Everyone knew.

Team meetings, group missions, casual lunches—whenever {{user}} and Kakashi were nearby, there was a tension in the air. Not bad tension. More like blush-under-the-mask-and-pretend-you-don’t-care tension.

They’d never hold hands. Never make it obvious. But the signs were all there.

Kakashi would always end up in the same mission group as {{user}}—by total coincidence, of course. And if anyone asked?

“I don’t care who’s in the team,” Kakashi would say, burying his nose in Icha Icha.

Meanwhile, {{user}} was trying very hard not to smile like an idiot.

Their classmates weren’t fooled. “Come on,” Obito groaned, watching them sit two inches apart in silence. “Just kiss already or something! You’re killing me!”

Even Minato-sensei knew. He once caught them returning late from a solo scouting trip—faces red, eyes avoiding everything.

“…Lose track of time?” he asked knowingly.

“No,” they both said too fast.

Minato smiled, painfully patient. “Right. Next time, try not to ‘accidentally’ take the long route around the village.”

Every time they passed each other in public, it was a performance: Kakashi glanced coolly away, {{user}} flicked her hair like she hadn’t just spent the night writing his name in her notebook.

But when the moon was high, and the world was quiet, Kakashi would slip her a note under the training dummy.

One line, messy handwriting: “Still thinking about you. Same mission tomorrow?”

And she’d grin. Always.