Chapter 4: The Wedding Night
The wedding was small, just as they'd wanted.
Rin stood beside Sakura, her dark hair swept into an elegant twist, her eyes suspiciously bright. She'd been Sakura's rock through the chaos of the last year—the late-night phone calls, the pregnancy scares, the moments when Sakura had been sure she couldn't do it alone. And now she was here, holding Karu in her arms as Sakura walked down the aisle.
There wasn't much of an aisle, really. Just a garden path lined with wildflowers, a simple arch draped in white linen, and a handful of chairs occupied by people who mattered. Kakashi's colleagues from school, a few of Sakura's friends from the design studio, and the old woman from the corner store who'd watched Sakura grow up.
Kakashi stood at the altar, his hands clasped behind his back, his mask in place. He'd insisted on wearing it, even for this. "You've never seen my face," he'd said. "Why start now?"
But his eyes gave everything away. They crinkled at the corners, soft and warm, as Sakura approached. She wore a simple white dress that fell just above her knees, her pink hair loose around her shoulders, a crown of baby's breath tucked into the waves.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"You look like you're about to cry."
"I'm not crying. I'm just—allergic to flowers."
She laughed, and the sound carried through the garden, light and free. The officiant said the words that had been said a thousand times before, but they felt new here, weighted with the specific gravity of two people who had chosen each other against all odds.
When it came time for the rings, Kakashi fumbled with the box, nearly dropping it. Sakura reached out, steadying his hands, her laughter soft and forgiving.
"Got it," he muttered. "I've got it."
"Sure you do."
He slid the ring onto her finger—a thin band of rose gold, delicate and understated, exactly her. Then she slid his onto his hand, a matching band, and the metal felt cool and foreign against his skin.
"You may kiss the bride," the officiant said.
Kakashi lifted his mask just enough to press his lips to hers, a brief, tender brush. The guests cheered. Karu, in Rin's arms, let out a delighted shriek that made everyone laugh.
And just like that, they were married.
---
The reception was held in the backyard of their house, string lights draped across the patio, a small band playing soft jazz in the corner. Kakashi held Karu on his hip while Sakura danced with Rin, their laughter carrying over the music.
"You did good," Rin said, catching Sakura's hand and spinning her. "He's a keeper."
"I know." Sakura's eyes found Kakashi across the lawn, his mask slightly askew, Karu's tiny hand wrapped around his finger. "I don't know what I did to deserve him."
"Maybe you don't have to deserve him. Maybe you just have to love him."
"I do. God, I do."
The night wore on, warm and golden. There were toasts and tears and the kind of joy that felt earned, hard-won through months of uncertainty and doubt. When the last guests left, when Rin handed Karu back to them with a kiss on his forehead, Kakashi and Sakura stood in the quiet of their living room, the house still humming with the ghost of celebration.
Karu was already asleep in his crib, his small chest rising and falling with the rhythm of dreams. Sakura stared at her hand, at the ring that glinted in the low light, and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"We did it," she said.
"We did it."
"We're married."
"That's what the paperwork says."
She laughed, swatting his arm. "You're impossible."
"And yet you married me anyway."
"Best decision I ever made."
---
The honeymoon suite was everything they hadn't known they needed. A hotel in the city, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing the skyline like a living painting. The bed was piled with pillows, the sheets crisp and white, and someone had left a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver bucket.
But what struck Sakura most was the quiet. No baby monitor crackling in the corner. No tiny cries to attend to. Just the hum of the city below and the soft rustle of their movements.
"This is weird," Kakashi said, standing in the middle of the room, looking around as if he'd stumbled into a parallel universe. "I don't know what to do with myself."
"We could sleep," Sakura suggested. "That's a thing normal people do."
"Sleep? On a bed without a crib in the corner? I don't trust it."
She laughed, kicking off her heels. The carpet was plush under her bare feet, and she padded toward the windows, pressing her palm against the cool glass. The city sprawled below, a constellation of lights, and she felt, for the first time in months, weightless.
Kakashi came up behind her, his hands settling on her hips. His chin rested on her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he murmured.
"That I don't know how to be alone with you anymore."
"Me neither. But I'm willing to learn."
She turned in his arms, facing him. The lamplight caught the silver of his hair, the dark of his eyes, the mask that still covered his lower face. She reached up, her fingers brushing the fabric.
"Do you ever take this off?"
"For you? Always."
He pulled the mask down, letting it fall to the floor. For a moment, they just looked at each other—really looked. She traced his jaw, the faint scar that ran along his cheekbone, the slight stubble that roughened his skin. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Everything," she said. "I want everything."
---
The first kiss was tentative, almost shy. They'd kissed before, a hundred times, but this was different. This was the kiss of two people who had made a vow, who had promised to stay. It tasted like champagne and salt, and it lingered until neither of them could breathe.
Kakashi's hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slow and deliberate. He didn't rush. He drew out the moment, his fingers tracing the line of her spine as the fabric loosened, sliding down her shoulders.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
The dress pooled at her feet, and she stood in front of him, bare and unguarded. His eyes roamed over her, and she felt her cheeks flush, her hands moving to cover herself.
"Don't," he said softly. "Don't hide from me."
"I'm not used to being this—visible."
"Then let me get used to it for you."
He stepped closer, his hands on her wrists, gently pulling them away. He kissed her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat. Each kiss was a promise, a whispered psalm of adoration.
"You're so beautiful," he breathed. "Every part of you."
She reached for him, tugging at his shirt. He let her undress him, his skin warm under her palms, his body familiar and foreign all at once. They'd been together before, but this was new. This was the first time as husband and wife.
They moved to the bed, the rose petals scattering beneath them. The sheets were cool against her back, and he hovered above her, his eyes dark with want.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"You won't."
"I want this to be good for you."
"It already is. It's perfect."
He kissed her deeply, his hand cradling her jaw, and she melted into him. The world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the weight of his touch, the quiet sounds they made as they moved together.
And when they finally came together, it was tender and fierce, slow and urgent. He whispered against her skin, telling her she was beautiful, that she was strong, that he loved her with a depth he hadn't known he was capable of. She clung to him, her nails raking his back, her breath catching on sobs that were joy and relief and love all tangled together.
The city glowed beyond the windows. The lamp burned soft and golden.
And in that room, they claimed each other.
---
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating a shared rhythm. Kakashi's arm was thrown over her waist, his face pressed to the curve of her neck, and she traced lazy patterns on his skin.
"Was that okay?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"That was more than okay."
"Good. I was worried."
"You were worried about sex? You, who's allegedly so experienced?"
"I was worried about you," he said, lifting his head to look at her. "About us. About everything."
She cupped his face in her hands, her thumb brushing his cheek. "We're fine. We're more than fine."
"I know." He kissed her, soft and lingering. "I just—I never thought I'd have this. I never thought I'd want it. And now that I do, I'm terrified of losing it."
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
She shifted, pressing her body against his, her legs tangled with his. She looked at him, her green eyes bright and unflinching.
"Because I'm not going anywhere," she said. "And neither are you."
He held her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. Then he smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes, and pulled her close.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, the night stretching on. The city hummed its quiet song, and the lamp burned low, and the rose petals clung to the sheets like confessions.
At some point, they drifted off, their hands intertwined. When Sakura woke in the middle of the night, disoriented by the unfamiliar room, he was still there, his breathing slow and even, his arm heavy around her waist. She pressed a kiss to his chest and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of him pull her back under.
---
Morning came softly, a pale gray light filtering through the curtains.
Sakura woke to the sound of rain against the window, a steady patter that filled the quiet. She blinked, orienting herself, and found Kakashi propped on his elbow, watching her.
"Good morning, wife," he said.
"Good morning, husband."
"How did you sleep?"
"Better than I have in months."
He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I think I could get used to this."
"Used to waking up with me?"
"Used to waking up at all. I've been running on coffee and spite for years."
She laughed, tracing her fingers along his jaw. Her hand moved to the silk ribbon he'd tied around his wrist the night before, a jade bead glittering in the morning light. "You wore the bracelet."
"Rin gave it to me at the wedding. She said it was a tradition in her family. A gift for the groom, a promise to catch him when he falls."
"That's sweet."
"I don't know about sweet. But I figured I could use all the protection I can get."
He shifted, reaching for something on the nightstand. A small box, wrapped in simple white paper. He handed it to her, his expression unreadable.
"What's this?"
"A wedding gift. I was going to wait until tonight, but—I don't know. I wanted to give it to you now."
She unwrapped it carefully, her fingers trembling. Inside was a photograph, framed in carved wood. It was from the wedding—Rin had caught them mid-laugh, their foreheads pressed together, Karu nestled between them. It was candid, unposed, and utterly perfect.
"Kakashi," she breathed.
"I'm not good with words," he said. "But I wanted you to have something to remember this moment. To remember how it felt to be this happy."
She looked at him, her eyes welling. "You're good with words. You're the best I've ever met."
"Then I'll keep saying them," he said. "Every day. For the rest of our lives."
She kissed him, and the rain kept falling, and the city glowed beyond the windows.
And somewhere in the house they'd built together, their son slept, dreaming of a future that was already unfolding.
The rain had stopped by the time they finally left the hotel.
Three days of room service and tangled sheets and conversations that stretched into the small hours. Three days of learning each other again, not as exhausted parents or sleep-deprived housemates, but as people who had chosen each other. Sakura had laughed until she cried at something stupid he'd said on the second night, and Kakashi had watched her with an expression she couldn't quite name, something raw and unguarded that made her chest ache.
They checked out on a Tuesday morning, the sky a washed-out blue, the city still damp and gleaming. Kakashi held her hand in the elevator, his thumb tracing circles on her knuckles.
"You ready to go back?" he asked.
"I'm ready to see Karu."
"He's probably forgotten us by now."
"He's six months old, Kakashi. He hasn't forgotten anyone."
"Tell that to Rin. She's been sending me pictures every three hours." He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the flood of images. "Look at this one. He's wearing a tiny hat."
Sakura leaned over, her cheek brushing his shoulder. In the photo, Karu was propped up in Rin's lap, wearing a knitted cap with a pompom on top, his face scrunched in what looked like mild betrayal.
"Oh my god, he's adorable."
"He looks furious."
"He looks like you."
Kakashi made a sound that might have been indignation, but he was smiling.
---
The drive home felt longer than it should have.
They'd rented a car for the honeymoon, a sleek little thing that Sakura had teased him about relentlessly. "You're not a spy, you know. You don't need a getaway car." But the seats were comfortable, and the heat worked, and there was something about the hum of the engine that filled the silence without demanding anything.
Sakura watched the familiar streets pass by, the houses growing more recognizable, the corners where she'd walked with Karu in the stroller, the coffee shop where she'd stopped every morning for a latte she never finished.
"Are you nervous?" Kakashi asked.
"About what?"
"Going back. Seeing him. Realizing that we're still the same people who left."
"Kakashi, we've been gone for three days."
"Exactly." His hands tightened on the wheel. "Three days is a lifetime when you're not used to being away from someone."
She reached over, resting her hand on his thigh. "We're going back to our son. Our house. Our life. That's not something to be nervous about."
"I know. I just—" He exhaled, long and slow. "I don't want to lose this. The feeling of being just us, even for a little while."
"You won't. This isn't a thing that disappears. It's just a thing that changes."
He glanced at her, a softness in his eyes that made her heart stutter. "You always know what to say."
"Someone has to be the calm one in this relationship."
"Hey, I'm calm. I'm the calmest person I know."
"You thought the baby monitor was broken for three hours because you couldn't figure out how to turn the volume down."
"That was a technical malfunction, not a panic."
"Kakashi, you unplugged the router and tried to call the manufacturer."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, a flush creeping up his neck. "I was tired."
She laughed, squeezing his thigh. "I love you."
"I love you too." He turned onto their street, the familiar rows of houses stretching ahead. "Even if you're mean to me."
"That's part of the deal."
---
The house looked the same as they'd left it.
Same white siding, same blue shutters, same overgrown hydrangea bush that Kakashi kept promising to trim. The front porch held a stray package and a pile of mail that had accumulated while they were gone. Through the front window, Sakura could see the soft glow of a lamp, and the silhouette of movement.
Rin must have seen them pull up, because the front door swung open before they'd even made it up the walk. She was holding Karu on her hip, her face split in a wide grin.
"Welcome back, newlyweds!" she called. "How was it? Did you sleep? Please tell me you slept."
"We—" Sakura started.
"Let's just say we tried," Kakashi finished.
Rin rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. "Get in here. This one's been asking for you." She looked down at Karu, bouncing him gently. "Haven't you, little man? You've been saying mama and dada all morning."
Kakashi froze, his hand on the doorframe. "He's been what?"
"Saying your names. Wait, listen—" Rin turned Karu to face them, his small body squirming with energy. "Karu, who's that? Who's that?"
Karu's blue eyes landed on them, wide and bright. For a moment, he just stared, processing. Then his face broke into a grin so big it seemed to take up his entire head.
"Mama!" he shrieked, his arms flailing. "Dada! Dada!"
Sakura's breath caught. She'd heard him babble before, strings of syllables that might have been words in another language. But this—this was clear. This was him calling out to them.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
Karu's legs kicked against Rin's hip, his whole body straining toward them. He reached out, his small hands opening and closing, desperate to be held.
"Go on," Rin said, her voice thick. "He's been waiting for you."
Sakura moved first, closing the distance and lifting Karu from Rin's arms. He latched onto her neck, his little fingers fisting in her shirt, his whole body vibrating with joy. He pulled back, cupped her face in his sticky hands, and looked at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.
"Mama," he said again, this time softer, almost reverent.
"Hi, baby," she managed, her voice cracking. "Mama missed you."
Kakashi stepped up behind them, and Karu's eyes found him over Sakura's shoulder. He squirmed, reaching for Kakashi with an urgency that made both of them laugh.
"Dada!" He bounced in Sakura's arms, getting heavier with each movement. "Dada!"
Kakashi lifted him, cradling him against his chest. The weight of his son was familiar and foreign all at once, the last three days stretching out like an eternity. Karu grabbed at Kakashi's mask, yanking it down with a practiced tug.
"Hey!" Kakashi protested, but Karu just giggled, delighted at his conquest. "That's supposed to stay on."
"Nuh," Karu said firmly.
"That's not a word."
"Nuh. Nuh. Dada."
Sakura and Rin were both laughing now, hovering in the doorway as the sun cast long shadows across the porch. Karu was squirming in Kakashi's grip, demanding to be held higher, closer, his face buried in his father's shoulder. When he pulled back, he reached for Sakura again, one hand gripping her shirt.
"Both," he demanded. "Mama and Dada."
Sakura moved into Kakashi's side, wrapping her arm around his waist. Karu beamed at them, held between them, whole and happy.
It was the first time. It had been three days, four nights, a lifetime of waiting. And there he was, this tiny person they'd made, calling them by name like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"There you are," Rin said softly, watching them. "There's your family."
Kakashi squeezed Sakura tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair. Karu grabbed his nose, babbling nonsense, and Sakura laughed even as her eyes filled.
"We're home," she said.
And they were.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of unpacking and laundry and the kind of quiet domesticity that felt revolutionary after the honeymoon's intensity. Karu trailed them everywhere, not willing to let either of them out of his sight. He sat in his highchair while Sakura made dinner, banging a wooden spoon against the tray and demanding they talk to him.
Kakashi leaned against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a smudge of flour on her cheek. She was laughing at something Karu had done, her whole face bright and alive.
"You know," he said, "I didn't think I wanted this."
"Wanted what?"
"Any of it. The house, the kid, the wife. I figured I'd spend my life alone, grading essays and talking to my plants."
"You don't have plants."
"That's the point. I was going to be so alone, I didn't even have plants."
She laughed, tossing a dish towel at him. "You're ridiculous."
"Just honest." He pushed off the counter, crossing to her side. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Karu watched them, his spoon frozen mid-bang, his head tilted like he was trying to figure out the mechanics of what he was witnessing.
"This is nice," Kakashi said. "This is—good."
"It is."
"I don't want to forget this. The feeling of right now."
She turned in his arms, facing him. "You won't. You can't. It's part of us now."
He wanted to say something—something about how he'd never expected to be here, how he'd never believed he could have this, how every day since she'd told him about Karu had felt like borrowed time. But the words got stuck, and all he could do was kiss her.
Karu let out a delighted shriek, banging his spoon again. Kakashi laughed, breaking apart from Sakura to look at him.
"You're lucky I love you," he said.
"Nuh," Karu said.
"Same to you."