“Stop it—”

He tsk’d as you sought out grey hairs in his already white hair. He’d be laughing if he wasn’t so self conscious about it. Not to mention that he’d been the one to ask you to do it. He knew he was nearing 50. At age 48, he was a well accomplished Ninja. A teacher, the 6th Hokage, an Anbu, your husband. All good traits. But still—

“Have you found anything yet?”

He was worried. If he hadn’t have stepped down as Hokage, he’d probably be dead by now. Again. And he couldn’t leave you.