Beneath him, Gai was a man possessed.

His movements, unpredictable, full of urgency; given what they'd been through, his passion understandable and welcome. Having spent what felt like days wrapped around Gai's midsection, his thighs chafed and burned, each upward stroke rattled his teeth in their sockets. Echoes of pain rocketed up his back, zigzagged down his legs and stung at the tips of his curled fingers with every downward stroke.

Always envied his stamina ... never been more grateful for it than I am now, he thought. Wouldn't be in this position though had I not been so damn needy. His arms, tight around that thick neck, his hips grinding into the small of Gai's back. Too weak, couldn't refuse him ... damn this willing body of his!

It was a wild ride spent in tears.

Happy ones for the brawny man under him though salty tracks of irritation belonged to Kakashi alone. Devoid of strength to pull down the hitate, every blink exposed the Sharingan; images of muscled shoulders and the crown of Gai's head would forever haunt his dreams. The sensation of a strong back pressed against his chest, the smell of parched air in coarse bluish black hair, the sound of Gai's rhythmic grunts as their bodies collided, now part of his memories for all eternity.

What was to be an affirmation of trust, would form the basis for challenges of loyalty and endurance in the months to come.

For the ragged, crescent shaped indentations left all over the other man's chest, abdomen and throat would he later apologize. Nope, that won't work either.

'Think nothing of it!' Gai would say. 'It is what friends do for one another. Besides, who knows how to relieve the stress of your body better than I, your eternal rival?'

He cringed, pushing the thought from his mind; remaining attached to the green beast as they neared the finish line required every whit of his concentration.

The end was near … they both knew it;

twelve miles inside Konoha's lush forests with another six miles to go before reaching the main gate of the village. The loud protests of their teams finally brought Gai to halt, grudgingly caving into their demands for rest and rehydration.

He's gingerly lowered to the ground, his back propped against the trunk of a massive oak. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with his old friend, watching the youngsters share meager rations and listening without laughing as they retold tall tales of valor, a driblet of nostalgia swelled in his chest. Soon, they'd stagger through those gates in the distance . . . exhausted, banged up, stronger for what they'd experienced, wiser about the world around them.