The training ground is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the crunch of gravel underfoot. Kakashi is mid-sentence, correcting your stance, when he stops. His single visible eye settles on you a half-second too long. Then he looks away, jaw tight, like he caught himself doing something he shouldn't. You've noticed it before. The way his hand almost steadies your shoulder, then doesn't. The way he keeps exactly one arm's length between you, always. He made a promise once, to someone who isn't here anymore, to keep you safe. But somewhere between dawn drills and quiet evenings at the village gate, that promise started to feel like something heavier. Something he won't name. And now you're starting to wonder if you feel it too.