Such is the way of the shinobi. Hatake Kakashi, a jounin and sensei had heard it often.
He stared at his figure with one eye. The other was covered…as usual. It felt suffocated under the metal and cloth that bore the mark of the village of the Konoha. His covered eyelashes brushed cloth, dark blue, serene. The dark blue covered the rest of his face from the bridge of his nose to the base of his neck.Warm moisture had settled, making the environment underneath humid.
In the water his body of twenty-six years rippled slightly. The breeze rustled the tree leaves and stirred a cloud of dust around his sandaled feet. He looked down at his toes and wiggled them. A layer of dust had settled along their exposed surfaces. He felt the pressure of the weight of his body, pressing down on the soles of his feet. The day had been long, the sun had been hot, and his skin felt sticky from half-dried sweat. If he looked hard enough, his thick head of silver-white hair seemed to be more wilted than usual.
The breeze died. His clothes felt clingy, thick and uncomfortable against his unwashed skin. His eye! As long as there was no one around, then what did it matter? He glanced around with his one eye, in the rustling dark trees, in the shimmering moonlit water, in the bright sky full of stars. He sighed deeply and closed it, one of the few areas of bare skin that he showed on his body, and raised a cloth-covered right hand to the back of his head. He untied the band of metal and cloth around his head.
His hair fell down over his face and their roots creaked soreness from drastically changing positions. The band released his skin and dropped, cloth ends waving in its rip current, into his open left hand. He opened both eyes and looked at his reflection, now smooth and undisturbed in the water. The eye that had once been hidden looked menacingly back up at him through segments of hair, three marks rested in its bright red iris like commas. You're not mine, sharingan, but this body is…
He pulled the cloth off his hands and tugged at the one covering his neck and face, pulling it tightly over his head and freeing it. He threw all three carelessly behind him into the accumulating pile of articles. Suddenly he flung his head back and looked up again at the stars, running both hands through his hair behind him. The hair and fingers slid past each other, fluid-like.
He turned his attention to the vest and earth. The noise of the zipper seemed unnatural. He flung the vest behind him and his hands moved to opposite sides of his shirt. He pulled it off in one fluid motion. The moonlight reflected off his skin which seemed luminous and white.
Something rustled in the nearby bushes. His muscles tensed as he froze, intent on the sound. He sensed nothing. Slowly his heart returned to normal and as he turned his head to make one final check, his reflection caught his eye. Again, he froze. His strong shoulders tapered down, through his torso and to his waist. The moon glinted on the curved surfaces of muscles lying beneath the illuminated skin.
He slowly brought his hands to the top of his pants and unfastened them. He let them fall into a dark fabric puddle around his ankles. And slowly, ever so, he stepped out of the pool of clothes and walked down into the water. When the water came up to his knees he stopped. Then…he dove forward, face first into the lake. He swam hard and fast, his strokes powerful and smooth. Just as suddenly he stopped again, and flipped over onto his back. He started a leisurely backstroke and saw the celestial night stretched wide out before him, stars twinkling and glowing. With the wind and the water and the heavens and the creatures of the night he floated in the sublime tranquility.