Falling for you - Kakashi x OC FF
He was my anchor - until he disappeared without a word. Now he stands before me again, as if nothing ever happened. But the past isn't so easily forgotten... and neither is my heart. A fanfiction about Kakashi Hatake and Akari Yukimura (OC).
Chapter 1: Shadows of the ANBU
The darkness smelled of blood.
Akari stood in the narrow training hall, her heart pounding faster than she wanted. Before her, two other candidates knelt on the ground, breathing heavily, defeated. They had fallen—and she was the last one still standing.
The masked man before her, the leader of the ANBU unit, let his gaze sweep over her. His voice was cold.
"You will be called Yuki. From today on, your old name no longer exists."
Akari—no, Yuki—lowered her head slightly. Her fingers were cold. She didn’t feel ready. She was twelve years old, and yet she stood here among elite warriors, those who erased villages in the night without leaving a trace.
But she had no choice.
Her family was dead, her clan wiped out. Konoha had decided that she would not be protected, but used. So here she stood.
"Your new captain will be Fukuro."
Yuki lifted her head as a silver-haired figure appeared beside the leader. A white ANBU mask with sharp, owl-like slits covered his face. His body was relaxed, as if none of this mattered—as if it was all routine for him.
"Hopefully, you know how to hold a sword."
His voice was deeper than she expected. Calm, but with a hint of sarcasm.
Yuki clenched her fists.
"Hopefully, you know how to keep your mouth shut."
A brief silence.
Then—a soft, amused sound behind the mask. Not quite a laugh, but something close.
"Bold."
Yuki said nothing. She wasn’t in the mood for humor.
But something about the way Fukuro tilted his head slightly—as if assessing her—told her that he had remembered her name.
And that he was curious…
The days blurred together. Training, eating, training, sleeping—if it could even be called sleep. Every hour pushed them to their limits.
Mornings began with physical conditioning. Hours of running through rough terrain, obstacle courses with sharp weapons that punished the smallest mistake.
"You will get faster," one of the instructors said emotionlessly as she hit the ground for the third time that day. "Or you will die. Simple."
At noon came weapons training. Kunai, wakizashi, bo staffs—every ANBU had to master them all. Yuki quickly discovered her preference for blades. She was precise, though not yet deadly enough.
"You fight like someone still deciding whether to strike. Stop that."
Her first opponent that wasn’t just a sparring partner came after four weeks.
A real prisoner. A condemned Nukenin, already sentenced to death.
"Kill him."
Yuki stood before him. The man was bound, on his knees. Blood clung to his skin, his lips trembled.
"Kill him."
Her grip on the kunai shook. The others' eyes burned into her.
She knew that not doing it was not an option.
And as the blade cut his throat, as the life drained from his eyes, she knew she had lost something she would never get back.
That night, she lost a part of herself.
Weeks passed. Yuki sat in the shadow of an old building, crouched next to Fukuro. The rain drummed against the rooftops as they waited for the signal.
Their first mission together.
Spying. Simple enough. A foreign spy had infiltrated Konoha—their task was to track and capture him alive.
Fukuro didn’t seem in a hurry. He crouched beside her, his mask facing the darkness.
"Nervous?"
Yuki didn’t even flinch.
"No."
A quiet snort.
"You’re a terrible liar."
Yuki turned her head slightly toward him. He was strange. Not as cold as the other ANBU, not as distant.
It was as if he was observing—not just the surroundings, but her.
"Why are you here, Yuki?" he asked suddenly.
Yuki was silent.
Why? Because she had no choice. Because she didn’t know what else to do with herself. Because Konoha had sent her here to ensure she was a tool, not a risk.
But she didn’t say any of that.
"Why are you here, Fukuro?" she countered instead.
He shrugged.
"Good question."
That was all he said.
The mission went wrong.
Yuki pressed against the wall, her breath ragged. She had been fast—but not fast enough.
The foreign spy lay before her, his arm broken, but he wasn’t alone. Two more shinobi emerged from the shadows, and before she could react, one of them grabbed her wrist and slammed her against the wall.
Too slow.
A kunai flashed. She tried to break free, but her movements were still imperfect.
And then—
A sharp hiss.
A shadow shot past her.
Blood splattered against the wall.
The shinobi stumbled back—a kunai lodged cleanly in his chest.
Yuki saw Fukuro land in front of her, a blade in his hand. His body was relaxed, but his stance betrayed deadly precision.
"Slow down, Yuki. You’re not immortal."
She gasped, her fingers trembling. But instead of scolding her, he slid his kunai back into its holster and held out his hand.
"Can you stand?"
Yuki stared at him. She was ANBU. She was supposed to do this alone. But her knees felt strangely weak.
Hesitantly, she took his hand. His fingers were warm.
And for the first time, she wondered—who was Fukuro really?
Time flew. Mission after mission.
They didn’t talk much, but when they did, it mattered.
Fukuro was the only one who looked at Yuki like she was more than just a mask.
After particularly difficult missions, they often found themselves on the same rooftop, in the same quiet conversation.
"You fight like you have nothing to lose."
Yuki scoffed. "Maybe I don’t."
Silence.
"Then you should find something."
She turned her head. That was the first time Fukuro had sounded like he was talking about himself—not just her.
Years passed, and with countless missions, an unbreakable bond formed between Yuki and Fukuro. Even if they never knew each other’s real names, even if their masks never fully fell.
And then…
One day, he was gone.
No explanation. No message.
She arrived at the ANBU meeting—and his seat was empty.
"Fukuro left."
That was all she got.
Yuki felt as if the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet.
He had been the only one who had given her even a sliver of light in the darkness. The only one she had truly spoken to.
And now, he had simply vanished.
She hated him.
For months, for years…
But the darkness was no longer as quiet as before.
Since Fukuro had disappeared, every mission felt heavier. Not because she couldn’t handle it alone, but because the coldness that surrounded ANBU had suddenly become unbearable.
But she wasn’t entirely alone. Fukuro was gone, but Tenzo was still there.
Tenzo was different—where Fukuro had been sarcastic and distant, Tenzo was steady and calm.
"Don’t worry, Yuki. I’ll watch over you."
"I don’t need a babysitter."
"Then I’ll just make sure you don’t get into trouble."
She wanted to argue. But the truth was—Tenzo was one of the few people who still made her feel safe.
She didn’t know that would soon change.
Her first meeting with Naruto was an accident.
Yuki—no, Akari. Out here, she could be Akari—stood on a rooftop when she heard a loud, clumsy thump.
"OWWW!"
She blinked. Below, a small boy with wild blonde hair and way too much energy lay on the street.
"Are you stupid?"
Another boy, slightly older, stood nearby with his arms crossed. His black hair was messy, his eyes tired.
Akari watched as the younger boy jumped up, dusting himself off.
"I’M NARUTO UZUMAKI! AND I’M TOTALLY FINE!"
Akari raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure? Looks like your brain is damaged."
Naruto blinked—then broke into a huge grin.
"YOU’RE COOL! WHAT’S YOUR NAME?!"
Shikamaru sighed, already regretting staying.
She didn’t know then, but these two would change everything.
And maybe, just maybe…
They were her light.
