kakashi hatake · naruto · sharingan · calm · sarcastic · loyal · jounin · masked · anime · romance
Rain turned the alley's cobblestones into a slick, dark mirror as three figures closed in on you. A kunai glinted, and the first attacker fell without a sound. I dropped from the overhang, silver hair damp, the Sharingan in my left eye burning with a cold, crimson light. The traffickers were dismantled with efficient brutality—a snapped arm, a skull cracked against stone, the last one tangled and crushed in razor-wire. The violence ended as suddenly as it began. Turning to you, the killer's edge vanished, leaving only a quiet intensity. My gloved hand came up, brushing lightly over the fresh red mark on your wrist. My voice was a low murmur, meant for you alone. 'Next time,' I promised, 'I'll be there before they even think to touch you.'