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Sakura trees were in blossom, and the petals that fluttered carelessly in the spring breeze reminded him of his late and beloved mother.
That day, Iruka celebrated his sixteenth birthday. He didn't have many people to celebrate with. To be honest with himself, he knew that he wasn't necessarily liked by his classmates or the rest of the village.
But he had eagerly awaited his sixteenth birthday. He had isolated himself in a secluded corner of the Konoha forest, the one above Mount Hokage, with a small, cloth-covered box in his hand.
On your sixteenth birthday, open it, it's your legacy , his mother had told him one day while she was cleaning the attic.
Iruka opened the box and a scroll appeared before his eyes. The young adolescent carefully unrolled the yellowed parchment. Symbols spread across the paper, some familiar, some not. At the centre was the emblem of Uzishiogakure.
His mother had told him stories of Uzushio, the village of his ancestors, destroyed during the war because of their formidable skills in fūinjutsu. She had been one of the few survivors, like Kushina, who had sought refuge in Konoha.
Iruka studied the scroll for hours. He went to the small lake in the heart of the forest and began to perform the signs. The water trembled, sometimes rising, but always falling back, splashing his sandals as if mocking him.
Finally the sun went down. It had been a bitter failure.
As he was about to turn back, he noticed an ANBU standing motionless on a branch, watching the lake. Without really thinking, Iruka hid behind a tree. Your curiosity will be the end of you one day! His father had always whispered to him.
The ANBU gracefully descended from his perch and approached the lake with nonchalance. The water rose, not in a simple column, but in a perfect swirl that danced in the air for several seconds before solidifying into a series of sharp spikes that embedded themselves into the tree trunks around him.
Iruka swallowed hard, grazed by one of the ice spikes that had pierced the tree to his right.
The ANBU wore a mask depicting a dog. Hound, he thought. He had heard of them, one of the best elements of the Anbu.
Unaware of his own imprudence, Iruka moved slightly forward to get a better view, but a dry and sharp voice made him jump.
"Have you nothing better to do than spy on an ANBU?"
The ANBU he had been watching was only a clone, and the real Hound was now standing behind him. He turned slowly, instinctively clutching the Uzushio scroll to his chest.
"I wasn't spying on you, I was training," he replied confidently, raising his chin. "And I was studying this," he said, showing the scroll.
The eyes behind the dog mask narrowed and fixed on the parchment. "A scroll from Uzushiogakure," the ANBU remarked, a note of surprise in his usually detached voice. "Where did you get it? It's a relic that can't be found in the hands of just anyone."
"It belonged to my mother," Iruka replied defensively. "It is my inheritance."
A heavy silence fell, in which Hound seemed to evaluate him. "Umino," he said finally. "Your mother was Umino Kohari, right?"
Iruka nodded in surprise. "You knew her?"
"She trained several of us Anbu the basics of fūinjutsu," Hound replied simply. "A remarkable woman. Umino was her married name, wasn't it?"
"Yes. She took my father's name, as did I." Iruka's heart tightened. "She left me this scroll, but I can't understand half the instructions," he admitted.
"May I?" Hound asked, holding out his hand.
After a short hesitation, Iruka entrusted the precious parchment to him. The ANBU studied it in silence for several minutes, his gloved fingers barely touching the fragile paper.
"This is an suiton fuinjutsu technique," he finally explained. "It combines water manipulation and protective seals to create a defensive vortex that can also serve as an attack." He handed the scroll back to Iruka. "These techniques should come naturally to you with time and practice."
"Really?" Iruka couldn't hide his scepticism. "I've been trying all day and all I could do was splash myself with water."
A curious sound emanated from behind the mask-something that vaguely resembled a muffled laugh.
"You focus too much on form and not enough on intention," Hound said. "The fūinjutsu of the Uzumaki is not like other ninja techniques. You have to feel the flow of the chakra, not just direct it."
"That makes no sense," he said confused.
"Show me what you've learned so far."
Reluctantly, Iruka performed the mudras he had been practising all day. As before, the water trembled, rose slightly and then fell back.
"You're forcing it," Hound observed. He approached Iruka and adjusted his posture. "Your chakra must flow like water."
The contact of his gloved fingers made Iruka shiver.
"Try again," he encouraged. "But this time, think of the water not as something to be controlled but as an extension of yourself."
Iruka closed his eyes. He visualised his chakra as a stream winding through his body to his hands. Then he did the mudra again, concentrating.
This time the water rose in an undulating column that held for several seconds before collapsing. It wasn't very good yet, but it was a considerable improvement on his previous attempts.
"That's... that's great!" exclaimed Iruka, elated. "How did you know?"
"Your mother was not the only one who taught me the techniques of the Uzumaki Fuinjutsu," Hound replied evasively. "These techniques are rare and precious, as are those who can master them."
There was something in his voice - a kind of respect, maybe even admiration - that made Iruka blush.
"If you really want to improve," the ANBU continued, "meet me tomorrow evening at the top of Mount Hokage."
Hound disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves, leaving Iruka alone with his scroll.
During the following nights, Iruka met Hound at the top of Mount Hokage. The ANBU was a demanding but fair instructor, teaching him not only the technique from his scroll, but also more general skills in stealth, camouflage and chakra detection.
Each session began with meditation in front of the illuminated village, followed by practical exercises. Iruka learned to make the water dance in increasingly complex swirls, to create temporary protective barriers, and even to use the moisture in the air to create small liquid seals that would explode on contact. The more he progressed, the more Iruka felt connected to his heritage, to that part of himself he had always known without ever truly understanding.
And the more time he spent with Hound, the more he felt drawn to him. One evening, Hound had taken off his armour and tank top after training. That night, Iruka understood that he was gay. Oh, yes, very gay. Like, really, really gay. As gay as a sixteen-year-old adolescent in the middle of puberty could be.
On the last evening of the holiday, as the sun set over Konoha, Hound gave Iruka a small notebook filled with notes on the techniques of Uzushiogakure.
"I can't accept..." Iruka started.
"Shh," Hound interrupted. "This knowledge rightfully belongs to you."
Finally, Iruka accepted the notebook with reverence, feeling an invisible bond between himself and the ANBU who had led him to his lost heritage.
"Thank you... Anbu-san."
"Happy birthday, Iruka!"
At eighteen, Iruka had become a respected chūnin. Under Hound's secret tutelage, he had developed skills in fuinjutsu and suiton techniques. The notebook of instructions Hound had given him never left him, always in an inside pocket of his vest.
"Thanks, everyone," Iruka said, smiling at his friends who had invaded his small apartment for his birthday.
The party was in full swing when Iruka noticed a small package on his windowsill. Intrigued, he discreetly slipped away and opened it. Inside was a ticket for Ichiraku Ramen and a note: "Mount Hokage, midnight". Under the note, something heavy and metallic.
His heart leapt. He knew this handwriting, the same one that occasionally annotated the margins of the notebook.
At half past eleven, after seeing the last guest out, he unwrapped the mysterious gift completely. His eyes widened. In his hand, he held a kunai of a design he had never seen before, decorated with spirals engraved into the metal.
He hurried to Mount Hokage, the precious kunai carefully stored in its sheath. Arriving at the summit, Iruka found Hound sitting on the edge of the cliff, gazing down at the village below.
The sky was dark, clear and full of stars. Iruka stopped a few metres away.
"You came," Hound said without turning around.
"I always do," Iruka replied and went to sit beside him. "Thank you for the gift. It's..."
"A chakra-conducting kunai," Hound confirmed. "Specially designed for Suiton techniques. It will amplify your chakra and facilitate barrier formation."
Iruka stroked the metal. "I cannot accept something so precious," he said, though his tone suggested he had no intention of returning it.
"It is rightfully yours," Hound insisted. "It should be in the hands of someone who carries that legacy."
"How did you get it?" Iruka dared to ask.
"From someone who was dear to me," the ANBU replied evasively.
They remained silent for a moment, enjoying the spring breeze and the view. Iruka had long since understood that his feelings for the ANBU went beyond simple adolescent desire. The man had given him so much.
"I have a mission tomorrow," Hound finally announced. "Long-term."
Iruka felt his heart tighten.
"How long?" he asked.
"I don't know. Some missions don't have a set return date."
Another silence. Iruka felt Hound's gloved hand rest on his, and his heart offered him an unwanted orchestra in his chest.
"You have made good progress, Iruka. You don't really need my lessons anymore."
"I will always need you," Iruka replied hastily. Too hastily . "I mean, for training."
"It wasn't planned, but..." Hound turned to him and even through the slits of the mask, Iruka could feel the intensity of his gaze. "I have one last birthday present for you."
The ANBU slowly raised his hand to his mask. Iruka held his breath. Hound lifted it just enough to reveal his mouth and chin.
Before Iruka could register any details of his face, his lips were on Iruka's, soft and warm.
It wasn't butterflies he felt in his stomach. He would have called it a storm of pink cherry blossom, hanami in his body!
The kiss was brief, almost hesitant, but it left him completely dazed. His first kiss, on Mount Hokage, with an ANBU whose real name he didn't even know.
"I will return," Hound promised, putting his mask back on.
His fingers lingered on Iruka's cheek for a moment, then he disappeared as silently as he had appeared.
The kunai of Uzushiogakure weighed heavily in Iruka's hand.
Sitting under a particularly lush tree in Konoha's central park, Iruka watched the pink petals swirl in the breeze. Two years had passed since the kiss on Mount Hokage and Hound had never returned.
Iruka had seen the ANBU several times in the village, but always from a distance, and not once had Hound shown any familiarity towards him. As if those nights of training, that kiss, had never happened.
Only the Uzushio kunai he always carried with him reminded him that those moments had been real.
"This frame is absolutely perfect!"
The enthusiastic voice pulled Iruka out of his melancholic thoughts. A few metres away, a young man stood with a camera in his hand, his eyes shining with admiration. He wore simple but elegant clothes, a scarf around his neck and a beauty mark at the corner of his mouth.
"Excuse me," the stranger continued as he approached, "but would you allow me to take your photograph? With the cherry blossoms and your thoughtful expression, it's just what I'm looking for for my portfolio."
Iruka blinked in surprise.
"I... uh... I suppose so," he replied, not quite knowing how to politely refuse.
"Wonderful!" the stranger exclaimed with a broad smile. "My name is Sukea, an independent photographer. And you are...?"
"Iruka. Umino Iruka."
"Nice to meet you, Iruka," Sukea said. "Could you repeat your pose from before, with that slightly lost look? It was perfect."
Iruka complied awkwardly. Something in Sukea's gaze disturbed him.
During the photo session, Sukea guided Iruka with precise gestures.
"If you allow me," Sukea murmured, his warm breath against Iruka's ear. "Just for another angle."
Iruka froze, suddenly aware of the proximity. Sukea's hands were warm, soft, but there were calluses that betrayed a more active life than that of a simple civilian photographer.
"You're not really a photographer, are you?" Iruka asked calmly without turning around.
The man pouted. "You haven't even seen my photos yet, you're going to offend me."
Iruka wanted to go further. The man could be an undercover spy, an enemy of the village! But there was something in his naivety, in his smile and in those gentle gestures that prevented Iruka from doubting further.
"Forget what I just said," Iruka said and resumed his pose. "You can continue a little longer. I'm in no hurry."
After several shots, Sukea lowered his camera and sat down next to Iruka without ceremony.
"So, what's a handsome teacher like you doing alone in a park on a holiday day?" he asked with a charming smile and Iruka felt his cheeks blush.
"It's... it's my birthday, actually."
"Really? What a coincidence!" declared Sukea. "We must celebrate this. Let me offer you dinner to thank you for the photos and to celebrate your day."
Iruka hesitated. He had planned to spend the evening alone.
"Okay," he finally accepted, surprised by his own decision.
The evening with Sukea was surprisingly pleasant. The photographer was funny, attentive and seemed genuinely interested in Iruka's life. He told him about his travels, the breathtaking landscapes he had immortalised.
The photos he had taken of Iruka were magnificent, and Iruka couldn't be more grateful for turning his sad birthday into something unexpected and joyful.
"But as you can see, nothing can match the beauty of a sincere smile like yours, Iruka-sensei," Sukea said, raising his glass in a toast after Iruka had tucked a copy of the photos into his vest.
"Do you flatter everyone like that, Sukea-san?" he replied, covering his embarrassment with a laugh.
"Only those who deserve it," he replied with a wink. "And please, just call me Sukea. There's no need for formalities between friends."
The evening went far beyond what Iruka had imagined. They walked through the illuminated streets of Konoha, stopping to admire the Hanami decorations, and Sukea took a few more pictures, even a selfie of them both with his Instant camera. Iruka wanted to look at it, but the man held it too preciously to his chest.
"It's my souvenir," he teased.
Iruka rolled his eyes, unable to hold back a laugh.
"If you want to keep it, you can. I've had enough pictures of myself today."
Their footsteps led them to Iruka's house and a comfortable silence settled between them as Iruka stopped at his door.
"Thank you for this evening," Iruka said sincerely grateful. "It was very pleasant."
"The pleasure was mine," Sukea replied.
He paused, seemingly searching for words, then slowly leaned towards Iruka, giving him all the time to step back if he wished. But Iruka didn't move.
"Come to my place," Iruka said, the words coming out of his mouth before he even had time to think about it.
"Are you sure?"
Iruka nodded, then almost ran to his door, closing it as quickly as Sukea had entered. Before he could react, he found himself gently pinned against the wall, the other man's lips only millimetres from his own.
Iruka should have been surprised, should have pushed away this man he barely knew. But something inside him recognised this presence. Like a physical memory that his mind could not formulate clearly. Maybe it was the alcohol, Iruka told himself. It certainly was.
Iruka grabbed each side of his face and pulled him in so that their lips met.
The kiss deepened and Iruka let himself be carried away by the sensation, by the warmth that spread through his body. Sukea's hands, the hands of a fighter disguised as the hands of an artist, began to roam over his body.
On his twentieth birthday, Iruka made love for the first time.
Later that night, as the moon pierced the darkness of his room, Iruka looked up at the ceiling and thought about the hours that had just passed. A part of him couldn't decide whether he would have preferred to be Hound. Because the other part of him screamed that it had been perfect, like in the most beautiful dream.
It made no sense, and again, it was probably the alcohol.
Next to him, Sukea slept peacefully. His make-up had faded, revealing paler features underneath.
"You're not asleep," Iruka murmured, gently running a finger over Sukea's cheek where a trace of make-up had been erased.
Sukea's eyes slowly opened and met Iruka's without surprise, as if he had been conscious all along.
Iruka propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at the man lying in his bed. "You're not a photographer, are you?"
"That question again, huh?" Sukea sighed, then nodded slightly. "You're too observant for your own good."
"You're the one who taught me that," Iruka replied instinctively before freezing as he realised what he had just said.
A heavy silence fell between them. Then, in one fluid movement, Sukea stood up and began to dress.
"I have to go," the man said hastily.
"It's night!" said Iruka. "Stay?" Iruka asked, getting up as well and wrapping himself in a sheet. "Will you come back?"
The man hesitated, already half dressed.
"I can't promise that."
"Okay." he replied, sitting on his bed, a note of disappointment in his voice. More than he cared to admit.
There was a long silence between them. Then, with a resigned sigh, the man sat down next to him.
"I'm sorry," Sukea began, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to... Well. I shouldn't have... It was important to me what we did, okay? But..."
"But you're a travelling photographer and you can't stay in Konoha." Iruka finished for him and put his hand on his. "It's okay if you can't stay. Thank you for what we did. Sometimes, the best moments in life are the most fleeting, don't you think?"
Like the cherry blossoms in spring.
Kakashi Hatake.
Iruka remembered seeing Kakashi return to face Pain and later learning that the jonin had died protecting the village... only to be brought back to life, like all those who had perished that day, thanks to Nagato's sacrifice and Naruto's intervention.
Now, as night fell on the ruins of Konoha, Iruka found himself in an improvised tent.
In a twist of fate, Iruka shared this cramped space with Kakashi himself.
The jonin lay on a makeshift futon, his visible eye fixed on the canvas of the tent, silent and motionless.
The two men had not exchanged a single word all evening. Iruka decided to break the ice when he heard the Jonin's heavy breathing.
"How do you feel?", Iruka asked.
"Strangely well, for someone who died a few hours ago."
There was a hint of dark humour in his voice.
"Thank you," Iruka said after a moment. "For saving me. You didn't have to interfere like that."
"Of course I did," Kakashi replid without hesitation.
Outside, the sounds of the camp could be heard.
As Iruka settled down on his own futon, he also noticed that Kakashi was shivering slightly despite the warmth in the tent.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
"No," Kakashi lied coldly. "It's just that dying and coming back is not a very pleasant experience."
Without thinking, Iruka stood up and approached Kakashi's futon.
"Move over,"
Kakashi looked at him in surprise but obeyed. Despite Kakashi's coldness and mood, Iruka slowly lay down next to him.
"What the fuck are you doing, Iruka?" Kakashi asked, his voice almost harsh.
"What a comrade would do," Iruka replied.
They stayed like that for a moment, side by side, their breathing gradually synchronised. Iruka could feel that Kakashi's trembling was diminishing.
"You smell good," Kakashi whispered, half asleep. "Like sakura flowers."
The sudden soft tone surprised Iruka but he just nodded.
"It's the hospital shampoo. Not very masculine, I suppose."
"No," Kakashi murmured. "it's nice."
"Uh, okay." Iruka said not knowing what to do with this information. Maybe Iruka smelled of Kakashi's girlfriend? Did Kakashi have a girlfriend? He did not even know.
"I like the smell of cherry blossom. It reminds me of softer days.
There was a floating moment where time seemed to be suspended. Then, gently, Kakashi turned towards him.
"Iruka," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
"What?"
Instead of answering, Kakashi lowered his mask - a gesture Iruka had never seen before - and pressed his lips to his. The kiss was soft, hesitant, almost shy. Despite his stupefaction, Iruka let it happen, almost giving in to the unexpected kiss.
What the hell? He thought, his heart pounding.
When they broke apart, Kakashi quickly put his mask back on, as if he already regretted this moment of vulnerability.
"I'm sorry," he said in a hurry. "That was inappropriate. The stress, the death, the resurrection, all of it," he said, waving his hand in the air.
Iruka nodded, still dizzy from what had just happened. "Of course. It's understandable."
"You can go back to your futon, I'm feeling better."
Kakashi turned away and didn't speak to him for the rest of the evening. Not even in the days that followed.
Iruka quickly forgot about it. After all, Kakashi had died that day.
The three years after Pain's attack were a time of great change for Konoha. The rebuilding of the village, the Fourth Great Ninja War, the appointment of Kakashi Hatake as the Sixth Hokage... And himself, the headmaster of the academy!
Over the months, Iruka had found himself working closely with the Hokage on a project to reform the Academy. What had begun as formal meetings had turned into late-night working sessions in Kakashi's office, then dinners together while they finalised documents, and finally conversations that had nothing to do with work. They never spoke of the kiss in the tent again.
Iruka was discovering a Kakashi he had never suspected - a man who loved literature (his tastes were questionable thoug), who worried constantly about his former students, who carried the weight of his responsibilities with a grace that masked an apparent casualness.
And somewhere along the way, without Iruka really realising it, his admiration might have turned into something deeper...
The night was well underway when someone knocked on his office door.
"Come in," he said distractedly.
Kakashi appeared, dressed in his official Hokage robes.
"Rokudaime-sama," Iruka greeted in surprise. "What can I do for you at this late hour?"
"I thought we were past the formalities, Iruka," Kakashi replied, his visible eye crinkling in what appeared to be a smile under his mask. "And I already told you to stop with the 'sama'."
"Force of habit. What are you doing here?"
"I've come to kidnap you," the Hokage announced casually. "You work too much. It's spring break, you should be celebrating."
"Says the man who sleeps in his office four nights a week," Iruka retorted.
"I have my reasons," Kakashi defended himself. "But tonight, I have something else planned. Come."
Intrigued, Iruka followed the Hokage through the deserted corridors and then out into the streets of Konoha. The night was mild, perfumed by the cherry blossoms. They walked in silence.
"I've always loved the late flowering of Konoha's cherry trees." Kakashi said. "They're still here for your birthday. Each year."
Iruka nodded, toughtfull, still following Kakashi with curiosity. It was only when they started to climb the path that led to the top of Mount Hokage that Iruka tensed.
"Where exactly are you taking me?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"You'll see," Kakashi replied, as mysterious as ever.
At the top, the view of the illuminated village was spectacular. Konoha had risen from its ashes, more beautiful and stronger than before. Kakashi led Iruka to the edge of the cliff.
"I come here sometimes when I need to breath," Kakashi said, looking at the village below.
Iruka nodded silently, overwhelmed by a wave of memories. It was here that he...
"I have something for you," Kakashi said, interrupting his thoughts. He took a small package out of his pocket. "It is to celebrate your adoption of Naruto."
Surprised, Iruka accepted the gift. "You didn't have to do that."
"Open it," Kakashi encouraged.
Iruka's fingers delicately peeled the wrapping to reveal a scarf of the deepest blue, almost indigo. The Uzumaki emblem shone softly in the moonlight.
"Kakashi..." Iruka caressed the fabric with reverence, recognising the quality and significance of the object at once. "This is a scarf from Uzushiogakure! How..."
"One of the few that survived the destruction of the village," Kakashi cut in. "It is said that these scarves were worn by the Guardians of Knowledge of Uzushiogakure."
Iruka looked up at him in amazement. "How did you get it?"
"It is a relic that Konoha treasures in the Mount Hokage," Kakashi replied. "It is rightfully yours. And after that, Naruto will inherit it. It's a fitting return."
Iruka wrapped the scarf around his neck.
"Thank you," he murmured, touched beyond words. "It's the most..."
He trailed off, unable to express what he felt. Kakashi had moved closer.
"A long time ago," Kakashi began, his voice deeper, more serious than usual, "I..."
Kakashi's fingers brushed the scarf, then moved hesitantly to Iruka's cheek, a contact as light as a feather.
"May I?"
Iruka let his cheek fall into his hand in response.
Lowering his mask, Kakashi leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, and pressed his lips against Iruka's. The kiss was soft but firm, as if it had been expected for years. Iruka closed his eyes and allowed himself to be carried away by the sensation. There was something about this kiss. Something familiar that made Iruka chuckle nervously.
When they finally broke apart, Iruka kept his eyes closed for a moment, savouring the echo of this contact.
"Hm..." the Hokage stammered, running his hand behind his neck. "Was that... strange of me?"
Iruka looked at Kakashi, really looked at the man before him - the elite Jōnin, the Hokage, the man. Then Iruka smiled, his most beautiful smile, before dropping his head to the shoulder beside him.
“It’s you again, uh?" he said, a softness in his voice.
Kakashi stared at him for a moment, surprised, then a genuine smile lit up his face.
"Always," Kakashi replied, voice shaking, pulling him closer, closer . "And forever ."
Much was for sure left unsaid to preserve the moment, but for the first time in a long while, Iruka felt that spring break had regained its magic.