Snowfall

Your breath is ragged and wet. Hands and knees planted in the snow, the wet chill seeping deeper into your clothing. You try to compose yourself. The freshly fallen snow around you is a stark contrast to the growing pool of dark blood spreading bit by bit as the bleeding worsens. You cough, hand flying to the deep wound in your abdomen in an attempt to staunch a little bit of the blood when your abs contract with the cough. Blood sprays in small droplets in front of your face. This is bad. Very bad. 

Gathering yourself a bit, you raise your head enough to look at the devastation around you. The other two members of your squad are lying motionless across the small clearing; you stare, hard, and can just barely make out slight movement in each of their chests. Relief washes over you, and you force yourself not to think about how badly they may be wounded - they’re alive, for now, and that has to be enough to keep you going. You have to get back to the village. 

To your left, the enemies who ambushed your team lay dead. Two rogue ninja, headbands slashed in a sign of defiance against their village, had come silently out of nowhere and brutally attacked you and your teammates. The fight was vicious and long; all three of you were forced to use your strongest jutsu just to barely scrape out a victory, taking multiple deep wounds in the process. The ninja closest to you had managed to sink a long sword into your abdomen and twist it roughly in the final split second before you resorted to your own unique jutsu, one you preferred to leave unused, to slice off his head. His headband rests in the snow, four vertical lines slashed through the center. A rogue ninja from the Rain. 

You raise one knee, planting your foot on the ground, and manage to use your leg as support to stand up. Your breath catches in your throat, blood wetting your lips as you stand, sharp pain shooting through your abdomen with the movement. The snow is falling again. You can see it forming a fine white dust atop your comrades and your heart sinks. You can barely even stand. How will you ever drag both of them all the way back to the Leaf? 

Your vision blurs, or maybe it’s the snow falling faster, swirling hypnotically in front of you, the red pools of blood blending with the pure, bright white. Suddenly, you’re falling; slowly at first, then the world spins as you pitch forward toward the snow, vision fading, waiting for the impact that will surely knock your breath out — but it never comes. Instead, warmth envelops you, solid and comforting, and you feel your feet lifting off the ground. You wonder, just for a moment, if this weightless feeling could be the end … but no. You’re still in pain. 

You manage to open your eyes enough to see that someone has picked you up. It’s a young man in a black sleeveless top, strapped with weapons and wearing an Anbu mask. He has a mess of unruly white hair around the mask, some falling against the sides of his face as the dog-like mask angles down to look at your face. It’s expressionless, of course, with slanted eyes and red stripes along the cheeks. Looking so closely through the eye slits, you can just barely make out the color of his eyes. One dark and unreadable. The other a startling red. You see it for only a second before he closes the eye and looks away from you at the clearing. 

Lifting your head slightly, you see that there are more Anbu in the clearing tending to the other two shinobi. The scene swirls in front of you again, the snowfall blurring your vision like a film in front of your eyes as your head swims. You’ve lost so much blood. 

“Relax,” the man says in a deep, smooth voice. “You’re alright. Someone has gone ahead to warn the medical ninja to prepare. We’ll take you back to the village.” You cough again, turning your head so that the blood splatters onto your filthy, torn tunic and not onto his protective vest. Relieved and exhausted, your head drops onto the man’s shoulder and darkness takes over as he springs from the ground with you solidly in his arms.

Ten Years Later 

The clearing is alive. It’s the middle of spring in Konoha, the air warm and the breeze cool. You take in the gentle buzz of life in front of you - flowers blooming, little dots of color among the newly green grass, bees bouncing lazily from flower to flower as they sing their low hum, butterflies dancing through the air. The trees surrounding the serene little clearing are getting denser and greener by the day, throwing dappled shade across the ground as they sway softly. It looks very different than it did in the dead of winter ten years ago. 

You welcome the scent of damp dirt and fresh spring grass. Each year after the anniversary of the worst fight in your career as a shinobi, once the snow has cleared, you return to this clearing and remember. You remember the smell of blood, the sting of snow on raw skin, and the death of one of your comrades. You remember the way you let your guard down, the way you didn’t hear the enemy approaching, and the way the sword ripped through your flesh like a knife through raw steak. You remember the hope that bloomed in your chest when you saw they were still breathing, the weakness that overtook you, and the strong arms that saved you at the last moment. You give thanks for the comrade that made it through surgery and grieve the one that didn’t.

And you think of him. The Anbu with the white hair and the dog mask who made up for your failure as a team leader and saved two lives out of three. The single red eye. Even now you’re unable to tell if you really saw that or not — it was only a moment, and you had lost most of the blood in your torso by the point, with more flowing out at an increasingly steady rate. Those eyes, though. They haunt your nights, the mismatched colors swapping and swirling in dreamscapes built out of snow and blood, the only thing anchoring you in storms of chaos and terror. You wake at night gasping for air, grabbing at the long-healed wound in your stomach, with those eyes still hovering in your mind. You can picture them, only for a moment, glowing in the dark of your room, a false reassurance after fleeting nightmares.

In more recent years, you’ve become well acquainted with the reputation of a Sharingan user who doesn’t come from the Uchiha clan. Kakashi of the Sharingan — the Copy Ninja. Rumors abound regarding where he got his single Sharingan and how he’s able to use it with no kekkai genkai, but you’ve never been able to tell what’s true and what’s overblown gossip. You’ve never seen it for yourself. Still, part of you wonders if that could have been him that day in the snow. If maybe your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you after all. 

You shake from your thoughts suddenly when a small flock of birds takes off from a nearby tree as if startled. You go still, instinct taking over as your breathing slows and quiets. Carefully, you scan the area, but there’s nothing to see. The trees maintain their gentle sway, undisturbed, and only little forest squirrels scamper beneath the undergrowth. You’re on edge here, even all these years later. You just can’t shake it.

You stand, stretching into the warm sun, letting it melt away the some of the tension in your mind, and take in one last look around the clearing. It’s time to get going. Lady Tsunade has called you and several of the other jōnin in for assignments onto several important new A- and S-rank missions. As you turn your back on the clearing and head back into the forest toward the village, you allow your thoughts to drift one final time to the Anbu who brought you back and wonder, as you always do, if you’ll ever cross paths with him again. 

———————————

Two hours later, you’re seated on the floor in the Hokage’s office, leaned against her desk, waiting on the other jōnin assigned to your mission. He’s late. Very late. Lady Tsunade had explained that the village was still hurting for help following Orochimaru’s assault a few years back, and while there were talented genin and chūnin coming in regularly, she was still forced to reduce jōnin teams to two on A-rank missions. S-ranks still received teams of three when possible due to their highly dangerous nature. You sigh loudly and drop your head a little too hard onto the desk behind you.

“This is the last time I put up with this disrespect,” Tsunade is mumbling to herself, annoyed. “Can’t rely on him to get anywhere even remotely on time.” She hasn’t quit frowning since shortly after you arrived.

Finally, a soft thunk at the open window has you jerking your head to the side to see a tall shinobi in complete jōnin uniform stepping down off the window ledge. You frown, your annoyance at having to wait for hours dampened by a nagging sense that you know this man. 

“Sorry,” he says as he stands up straight. “You see, there was this old woman —”

“Can it, Kakashi,” Tsunade interrupts with a frown before she lays into him. Kakashi? You tune out her lecture as you register the name and take in the man in front of you. Standard dark pants and undershirt. Mask covering everything from his color bones up over his nose. Leaf headband slanted across his forehead, pulled down to cover his left eye. Distinctive shock of bright white hair pushed back behind the headband and falling a bit to the side. You lock in on that hair, the color of freshly fallen snow, and think to yourself that it has to be him. That Anbu. You drop your gaze back to his uncovered eye, wondering if a good look at that dark color will spark any further recognition, only to find it already locked on you. You clear your throat and look down, bracing your hands on the floor to stand up. Kakashi moves in response, almost imperceptibly, in your direction as you stand. Nothing more than the slightest twitch of a shoulder, but it’s there. 

Back on your feet, you readjust the cloth of your tunic and sling your hair behind your shoulder. Tsunade has paused for a breath.

“My lady,” you interject, seizing the brief opportunity. “All due respect, but I think he’s got the idea.” You’ve known Tsunade for a very long time, long before she ever became Hokage; that relationship has earned you both her trust and a measure of familiarity in your address. “Maybe we can get to the mission? Keep ourselves on track for a timely start.” 

She frowns in your general direction, but softens a bit as she closes her eyes and takes a slow breath. In. Out. She lifts her eyes back to yours. 

“Very well,” she begins. “As you know, our resources are limited. I can’t spare enough jōnin to send out fully manned squads.” A nod from each of you. “I’ve assigned three-man teams to all our current S-rank missions. We’re currently working through our A-ranks. I’ve chosen teams carefully. You two have complementary chakra natures, especially with you both developing such strong original jutsu. I expect that you will work well together should any conflict arise.” You know she’s referencing his Chidori, an original lightning-style jutsu known for its incredible power. 

“Understood. What’s the mission?” Kakashi’s voice is low and even. Its familiarity rings in your ears with each syllable. You know that voice.

“I need you to deliver these documents to our allies in the Sand. They contain important information about the Akatsuki. There can be no mistakes. If these documents end up into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous for all of us, not just the Leaf.” Her eyes are dark and serious, her hands completely still on the desk in front of her. You open your mouth but pause when she lifts a hand to stop you. “I know. It seems easy, and hopefully it will be. However, we have reason to believe there is a risk of target from Rain ninja.” Your stomach bottoms out. You clench your fists as your palms grow damp, dread cascading down your spine. Kakashi watches you closely. You ignore him, although the feeling of his eye on you is intense to say the least. 

“The Rain? Why?” Your voice barely remains steady.

“We’re not the only village with rogue ninja. Many other villages have ninja who are in the Akatsuki or have been in the past. We know we can trust the Kazekage fully — Gaara is our strongest ally, and we need him to be in the loop in case of an attack. We can’t be too careful. Two jōnin traveling from the Leaf to the Sand may raise suspicions, so be on the alert.” 

“When do we leave?” Your jaw is set, breathing regulated. You cannot let this old fear get the best of you. You’re stronger than that. 

“Seeing as it’s a bit late,” Tsunade glares at Kakashi, “you will leave at first light. Take a few moments to get familiar with one another before you leave. Stock up on rest and be ready.” Her gaze slides to you. It feels like she can see into your head, into your soul. “Be safe.” 

“Yes, my lady,” you answer, bowing your head for a moment in acknowledgement. Kakashi echoes your words and follows you out of the office, gently closing the heavy wooden door behind him. You fully intend to walk away, give yourself some time to gather your thoughts and hopefully get some semblance of rest after the warning you just received. Until, of course, you hear Kakashi catch up to you with a wide stride and pause a half step behind your shoulder.

“So,” he drawls, voice slow and unhurried. “Y/N, is it?”