The night is still.

It is silent for most. Kazuha hears symphony. The crickets low hums, the whirring of the fan, but most beautiful of all, the soft breaths of his partner.

His fingers trace her bare back. Stars, constellations. Patterns drawn with calloused fingers, knicked and scarred from a lifetime of battle.

Her skin is so soft. His fingers run down the notches of her spine. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. Pure, unrelenting. That is what his love is.