Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness. Coldness. Emptiness.

That was all the last Hatake knew. He didn't even know his own name anymore, his identity slipping through the cracks of oblivion, like grains of sand carried by an invisible tide. There were no memories to cling to, no past to mourn, no future to dread for. His mind drifted, suspended in an infinite, indifferent void, unmoored from time and space. Kakashi was everywhere and nowhere. Eternity alone cocooned him like a suffocating embrace of warmth in a frozen world of ice and snow.

Loneliness.

Loneliness was all that remained. His sole companion in this infinite abyss. It wrapped itself around him, filling the empty spaces of his soul, offering him solace in a way no human touch ever could. It was a feeling born from the cruel hand of reality, from a world steeped in disgrace and suffering, a reflection of everything he had witnessed and endured.

How long had he existed like this? Days? Years? Centuries?

He couldn't tell. Time had no meaning in here. But then, something began to change. A cold, piercing light flickered at the edge of his awareness, a distant presence intruding upon his eternal solitude. At first, it was barely noticeable, a faint, indifferent glimmer far beyond the horizon of his consciousness. But it grew. Slowly, inexorably. Expanding, intensifying. It reached for him like a cruel whisper in the silence.

Kakashi recoiled. He did not want to return to the coldness, to the harsh truth that awaited him beyond the warmth of oblivion. He didn’t want to remember. The light felt like a cage, a prison of awareness and desperately he clung to the comfort of eternity.

But the light was relentless. It cut through the darkness like a blade, slicing the tranquil silence that had once enveloped him. It tore at the fabric of his being, shredding the delicate peace he had found in the nothingness. And then, it touched him, his consciousness, the fragments of who he once was.

But there was no gentle kindness in that touch, no mercy.

Only pain.

Raw, unbearable pain.

It felt as though he was being ripped apart, shredded into pieces, only to be reassembled and torn apart again. Over and over, a thousand times. Burnt and skinned, but it wouldn't stop. Each iteration more excruciating than the last. His mind screamed, yet no one heard him. His soul wept, filling oceans with his silent tears, yet no one could see them. Utterly alone.

And still, the claws of reality ruthlessly tore him apart, dragging him from the endless void, ripping him from the quiet embrace of eternal darkness.

Dragging him back to life.

Chapter Text

The sky hung heavy and oppressive, a dense shroud of dark clouds smothering any hint of light. Not a single ray of sunlight pierced the thick, foreboding banners above and the world below remained trapped in an unrelenting greyness. It was a rather bleak day. The kind of day that invited you to retreat from life, to bury yourself in the embrace of a warm, cosy blanket and wait for the sun’s distant rays to bring hope back into people's hearts.

But even if the sun shone, it wouldn't change a thing, Minato thought bitterly. Not when his pupil lay dead.

Minato stood at the windows of the Hokage Tower, his eyes scanning the streets below. A pair of ravens tussled over scraps of garbage, their sharp beaks tearing into each other with vicious precision. Feathers flew, black and tattered, as they pecked and slashed, striking with a brutal determination. Detached, Minato watched as their lukewarm blood began to stain their sleek bodies, trickling down in slow, crimson trails to mix with the dirt.

Each blow, each gouge of their talons, reminded him of Kakashi's final moments. Fighting with the same ferocity, the same desperation to protect his comrades. The ravens tore at each other until they poked out their eyes. Until they were an unrecognizable tangle of feathers, beaks and blood, just as Kakashi’s body had been brutally mangled beyond recognition with every strike.

A single feather swirled through the icy air.

Minato sighed deeply, his heart heavy. Survival of the strongest. The one law that governed everything. Merciless, unyielding, woven into the very fabric of the universe. The one law that created an unchallengeable order. He knew it just too well. They were lucky that they had left enough of Kakashi to be able to identify him at all.

His empty gaze lingered in the distance for a moment as the first drops of rain began to fall, soft and cold against the glass, but it was time.

“Secure the district. I don’t want a single civilian near it,” he ordered quietly.

The Anbu, who had been silently staying by his side ever since, gave a brief nod and in an instant, they were gone, vanishing into action as if the stillness had never existed. The Lord Hokage straightened, his expression hardening. He couldn’t afford a single mistake now. After all, resuscitation was a delicate matter. His life hung in the balance.

With a brisk pace, he moved through the dimly lit corridors, the flames flickering along the walls casting long, wavering shadows that danced with his every movement. His footsteps echoed in the hollow silence, each step pulling him closer to long buried sorrow.

At the end of the hall, Kushina, Tsunade and Jiraiya stood waiting in front of a massive door, their expressions somber. Their eyes lowered to the ground.

“Lord Fourth,” Tsunade greeted him, her voice taut with tension.

Kushina offered him a small, tired smile, one that was meant to reassure him, but fell short, weighed down by her own exhaustion.

“Minato,” Jiraya murmured, barely audible.

Minato nodded at them firmly. But no smile graced his lips. No wrinkles of joy adorned his eyes. Only weary sadness. His eyes, normally alive with a spark of energy, were dull and his face was hidden behind a mask of stoic determination.

“Open the doors,” Minato ordered almost in a whisper, afraid that if he spoke just a little louder, he would break down in tears and shatter.

Shinobi don't cry.

Kushina immediately understood her husband's inner turmoil, the raging storm within him. Her own eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting the dim light of the torches. Without a word, she stepped forward, her chakra flowing into the seal on the wall and slowly, the massive doors began to creak open.

Minato’s breath hitched in his throat. This was the moment that could change everything. But the cost, the weight of what lay ahead, was almost too much to bear.

“Minato,” Jiraiya spoke quietly and placed his hand firm on Minato's shoulder, “I don’t think this is right. We’re not just bringing someone back. We’re disturbing the sacred peace of the dead. Even the gods don’t dare-,” he gestured toward the carefully restored corpse lying within the summoning circle, “-this kind of thing.”

“Jiraiya-,” Minato began, but Jiraiya cut him off, his voice rising.

“No, Minato. This is unnatural! An evil omen, I say. The consequences-”

“Jiraiya,” Minato now interrupted him with calm voice, but there was steel in it now, his authority unmistakable.

“I’ve heard your concerns. But I will do this, with or without your approval. Respect the word of your Hokage,” he finished, a sharp edge to his tone.

Jiraya frowned and looked his former student in the eye. There was no anger there, just deep, gnawing concern. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head slowly, resignation weighing down his features.

“This will be our downfall,” he murmured.

“If it is,” Kushina interjected, stepping forward to her place at the rune circle, “at least we’ll see Kakashi one last time.”

She seemed calm, but there was a brittle edge to her tone, a fragile optimism that belied the tension in the air. Around them, Tsunade and a few high-ranking jounin gathered, each taking a quiet moment to steel themselves for what was to come. And from the shadows, Danzo watched intently, his eyes glinting with something dark, something calculating. Darkness calling to darkness.

Minato hadn’t once looked directly at the small, youthful body in the centre of the summoning circle, its pale skin covered in stitches. A young adult, mutilated by life and now prepared for something even crueller.

Shinobi do not feel.

The unease in the room was palpable. It wasn’t just the moral line they were about to cross, it was the unknown, the fear of what they might awaken. If they failed, it would be a desecration, a blasphemy. A disturbance of the dead. Rather, they were worried about the possibility that they might succeed.

“I’d like to remind everyone,” Tsunade’s voice cut through the tension, steady but with an undercurrent of warning, “that if this works, we have no idea what state Kakashi will be in. Genma, Shikaku, I trust you and your units are prepared to act if necessary. In case the Hatake brat wakes up a little... agitated.”

Her gaze was sharp as she made sure everyone understood the gravity of the situation. Outside, the rain began to intensify, hammering against the windows, as if the heavens themselves were protesting.

Kushina attempted a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Let’s hope everything turns out well, eh?”

Minato said nothing, stepping into position, his arms outstretched as if offering himself up to eternal damnation. His chest rose and fell in steady, deep breaths, the sound punctuated only by the relentless pattering of rain on the roof. His eyes fluttered shut and for a moment, the room was enveloped in complete silence.

A shinobi is a tool.

But then, without warning, Minato doubled over, his body trembling as a surge of chakra exploded from him, flooding the sealing points with raw, unrestrained power.

And chaos erupted.

The air thickened with chakra, electric and violent, whipping through the room like a tempest. The summoning circle flared to life, its intricate runes glowing with an eerie, pulsating light. The body at the centre twitched, as though something unseen had grabbed hold of it, pulling it from the void. And so, it had begun.

The ground trembled beneath their feet as Minato poured more and more chakra into the seal, his face contorted with strain. The very walls of the Hokage Tower seemed to hum with the intensity of the ritual, the flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows across the room.

And then came the sound. A low, guttural growl, rising from deep within the corpse. A sound not quite human. The Anbu units drew their weapons. A roar deafened their ears, as if a shinigami himself was living within the stone walls.

“Brace yourselves!” Tsunade barked, her hands already glowing with chakra as the tension snapped into action.

Dozens of shinobi charged the air with their jutsu, causing the electric air to shimmer. Orders were shouted and sweat gathered. Minato kept his focus, unyielding, as the sealing points flared brighter, the circle writhing with energy. The rain outside battered against the windows harder, each drop echoing like a drumbeat of the inevitable. And still, the chakra surged.

The roar so loud.

The air so heavy.

The rain so strong.

Breathing heavily, they shifted positions as the ground trembled beneath them, more violently than ever before in Konoha’s history. The torches lining the walls sputtered, smothered by the thick, chakra-induced air until only faint embers remained, casting dim, flickering shadows across the room.

And with their extinction, an eerie silence settled.

As if time had frozen.

A flash of silver cut through the stillness. Minato barely managed to dodge the kunai aimed between his eyes. It nicked his temple, leaving a deep gash and blood trickled down the side of his face, warm against the cold air.

Then came the sound. Like the screech of a thousand birds.

A dozen bodies fell lifeless to the ground, cut down in an instant. Kushina’s eyes widened as the room momentarily illuminated with a brief, purple light and a familiar silhouette stood with its back to her, framed in the dying glow, before the darkness reclaimed the space.

Just in time, Jiraiya intercepted Kakashi’s bloodied hand, inches from plunging it into Kushina’s heart.

A surprised shinobi is a dead shinobi.

Kushina snapped out of her shock, summoning her chakra to relight the torches. But as the flames gently illuminated the room, she gasped in horror. Kakashi’s dead eyes, empty and unfeeling, were mere centimetres from her own. Instinct took over and she hurled a seal-laden shuriken at him, but it never found its target. Kakashi vanished, only to reappear behind her, effortlessly dodging the relentless attacks from Minato and Jiraiya. His movements fluid, precise. Almost inhuman in their elegance.

“Get reinforcements, now!” Shikaku shouted, his voice tight with urgency.

Beside him, Genma collapsed to his knees, gasping and choking on his own blood. Panic rippled through the ranks. People were arguing.

“Quick! Quick!” Tsunade shouted from somewhere, desperate as she issued orders, but the chaos was growing, voices clashing and overlapping in the frenzy.

Crying and sobbing, Ebisu cradled his dying comrade, his raw, terrified screams cutting laced with desperation.

 “Somebody help! Please!”, his anguished cries of terror echoed through the crowd.

A shinobi is destined to die.

Panic spread and Kushina scanned the room frantically for Minato, who had circled Kakashi with a few others. But Kakashi’s gaze, cold, detached, seemed to see through them, as though they were nothing but ghosts to him.

His hair, now an unnatural snow-white, shimmered under the soft torchlight. His left eye a vivid, sickly red, its iris clouded and blind. Scars, black like those of the Edo-Tensei, traced his body, but with strange golden edges that glowed faintly, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance.

To Kakashi, it all felt like a dream. A nightmare. From one moment to the next, he was torn back into the devastating cold of the light. But there was no peace here. Only regret, shame and the crushing knowledge of the monster he had become.

Pure madness.

What else could remain of a man who had lost everything and was responsible for everything himself? How could someone not break under such a burden? The truth was, Kakashi had already broken a very long time ago.

He could no longer remember the faces of all those he once called sensei, comrade or friend. The only thing that remained was a vast, consuming emptiness, an abyss that would never be filled again, tearing more of his humanity away with each passing moment.

And so, for him, they were just long-forgotten faces and chakra signatures in a Konoha that had long ceased to exist. Just strangers who held him captive with a powerful seal in a body from which he had long since become estranged.

Nothing made sense. It didn't need to. Kakashi would simply do what he had always done. The only thing he was really good at. Bringing sadness and regret. Remembering past pains.

“Kakashi!” Rin breathed into his night terrors, while the warm blood of her heart dripped down his hand.

“Kakashi!” Obito spat hatefully in his nightmares for leaving him in a life of betrayal.

“Kakashi!” Gai screamed in fear and regret as he realised that Kakashi would be too late.

Nothing had any meaning. Neither death nor life.

“Kakashi!” Minato called out to him, raw terror in his eyes.

But this scare, this animalistic fear, was not directed against him, but for him. Kakashi tilted his head, confused. Minato, of all people, was afraid not by Kakashi, but for him. For the friend-killer Kakashi Hatake. This had to be some cruel, bestial dream meant to torture him with guilt, to make it his noose. To hang him.

But Anbu Hound would never be tempted by such ridiculous tricks. He had embraced the blood and welcomed the intoxication that came with it far too quickly and willingly, especially after Gai's death. There was nothing left for him but the slaughter.

And so he danced with Minato, a deadly ballet of jutsus, their movements as light as two leaves caught in the wind.

To ever escape his humanity as Kakashi of the Sharingan and finally become fully Hound, to become perfect, he had to be smarter, faster and more ruthless than this last remaining imitation of Namikaze Minato. To finally become something beyond human.

“Retreat! Retreat!” a voice shouted from the sidelines.

“Not a word to the outside world! Anyone who speaks of this commits treason!” the voice of the Tsunade imitation thundered fiercly.

As the Anbu vanished into the shadows, Minato looked hopefully into Kakashi’s eyes. Eyes as grey and unrelenting as a seething storm.

“Kakashi,” he gasped, breathless but still smiling, gently yet pained, “How nice to see you again. Rin and Obito have waited far too long.”

“No one will ever take you away from us now,” a new voice echoed in the nearly empty room.

Kakashi’s eyes shifted lazily, and there they stood. Rin and Obito, staring back at him.

Faces from a past long shattered.

Chapter Text

„No one will ever take you away from us now,“ a new voice spoke from the now almost empty room.

Slowly, Kakashi turned his head to find the source of the voice and lazily looked into the faces of Obito and Rin. While Obito looked younger than he remembered, Rin looked older.

“What game are you playing again, Obito?” Kakashi asked annoyed, without even looking away.

“I- what- I'm not playing a-“ Obito sputtered in confusion.

“I'm not playing a game,” he repeated clearly and looked at Minato questioningly.

Kakashi also let his gaze wander to Minato and raised his eyebrows. He was covered in deep cuts and practically panting with exertion. As if he was out of breath. How absurd, Kakashi thought. In the end, he just waved his hand and looked at Rin next.

All grotesque imitations. I could never have defeated Minato-sensei so easily. No wonder he had been worried about him if it was supposed to be an amusing trip into his psyche.

“This illusion? It's very successful, but highly ridiculous. Who else would be able to do it? Itachi? Can hardly be revived with Edo Tensei, nor can Sasuke. Unlike you. So? Why are you alive again and why are you bringing me back of all people?” he asked, unaffected by the whole situation.

Silence reigned for long seconds while Obito searched for an answer in absolute confusion. Inconspicuously, Minato sensed the surroundings with his chakra and breathed a sigh of relief when he came across the familiar chakra of Kushina. Seals. And a whole lot of it, like a barrier, so that Kakashi at least couldn't escape.

“Aha... ok. Anyway-“ Obito began before Rin interrupted him.

“Maybe you should rest first?” Rin asked in an angelic voice.

Kakashi sighed and turned to Obito again. Or Tobi. Or Madera, whoever was responsible for this godforsaken game. Again. And in an instant, he held his ice-cold blade to his throat.

“You do realise that I was Lord Hokage the Sixth and Shadow Hokage for longer than you lived. Unless you want to live in eternal torment and slowly but surely lose your mind,” he hoisted his blade sharply, “I pray for you that you have a good reason.”

Meanwhile, Minato's hand slowly slid to a small marble that Kushina had sealed with her chakra, apparently completely ignored since Obito's arrival. He didn't know exactly what effect it had at all, but things were coming to a head somewhat unexpectedly.

“I um... You died!” Obito bubbled to himself once again, “There was this super important mission. And you were supposed to deliver super important information to Konoha or something, I don't know, ok? And, and... So of course we also just wanted you back with us!”

Irritated, Kakashi cut his neck so that his scarlet blood brushed the rough metal.

“We're really happy to see you again, Kakashi,” Rin added softly and was about to put her hand on his shoulder when he thrust his Chidori charged hand through her abdomen.

“Stop that,” Kakashi ordered bored.

Without further ado, Minato flickered in front of her and exploded the marble in Kakashi's face, causing him to cough a few times but otherwise seem unaffected. Obito, on the other hand, watched in shock as his former friend pushed Rin away from him as if in slow motion and brutally tore his hand, covered in her blood, from her body. How her body hit cold stone. How her eyes widened and she gasped in agony.

“Rin?” he whispered softly as he could do nothing but watch Minato, eyes wide and hands trembling, pouring chakra into the open wound to somehow keep her alive.

Kakashi also watched as Minato became more and more desperate, telling her that everything would be fine. That it wasn't that bad. But he knew that it was only a matter of time if someone specialised didn't show up soon. Just as Kakashi was about to turn away from the spectacle and take a few steps towards the door, the edges of his vision began to flicker. Like the gentle fingers of death, a cool breeze played around his unmasked face. For a moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped. The cold touch made him freeze and his breath quicken.

Don't fight the darkness.

His thoughts became foggy, his vision blurred and he stumbled a few more steps towards the exit. He had to think clearly. He tried to hold on to his thoughts. His thoughts. His, his, HIS- His breathing slowed and the world spun in slow motion as he swayed in place. Minato's words in the distance sounded muffled and everything spun until he suddenly felt the cold ground against his face. Everything seemed so far away. And so he welcomed the darkness.

Cold.

“You're a monster!”

Blood.

“No one will miss you when you die!”

Death.

“You're nothing but a tool. An empty puppet. A replaceable victim.”

Whispers, voices, screams.

Kakashi looked at his hands. Blood.

„Everyone hates you. Why don't you just make it easier for us and finally die?“

His gaze caught the glittering glow of the substance. Red. Slowly, his gaze fell on the kneeling person in front of him. Death. Blood.

“A madman! Yes, that's what you are! Please, please, I beg you! Kill you!”

There were also many small, glistening beads of blood on the person in front of him. Whispers.

“You are nothing but a disgrace to the city.”

It was a marvellous sight for Kakashi as the light of the liquid refracted and tenderly he smeared the droplets over his father's still warm skin.

“A genius of death...”

The blood was still warm and it felt so different. Death. Different from the battlefield.

“How can you let a beast like that roam free?”

Was it because his father had once meant something to him? Or that this time it wasn't his fault that someone had died?

“You bring us nothing but pain and sorrow.”

The voices and whispers grew louder and louder and his surroundings writhed in distortion until he held his throbbing head and jolted out of his dream with a silent scream.

His short, shallow breaths stopped against the cold walls of the dungeon.

“I am a burden.”

In.

Out.

Fear was written all over his face. The pure panic that it was the truth.

On and

out.

Inhale and exhale.

The icy chains rubbed against his wrists. No one wanted him. Nobody needed him. Fact. Kakashi's face darkened. Fact.

“What do I care about the others?” he asked menacingly into the darkness, a growl escaping his throat.

“If they see me as a monster, so be it!” he shouted proudly.

A fact. One whose realisation would save him so much suffering.

Kakashi chuckled.

“A genius... No, much better! The devil, that's me! Yes!”

Amused, he shook his head, the chains clacking on the floor.

“And I'm not afraid of the devil,” he spat out in a whisper.

He chuckled again. This time, however, he burst out laughing shortly afterwards.

“I'll show them what true suffering looks like. What it feels like. What it does to someone. I'll teach them what it means to face death!”

Anger filled Kakashi and he tapped his finger darkly against the metal bars.

The Anbu guard next to his cell swallowed hard as he listened to this conversation and gripped his lance even tighter.

“Tick... Tak... Tik... Tak...” Kakashi sang softly.

No matter if illusion or reality. Soon the Hokage would send someone down here himself.

“Time is running out.”

At that moment, Kakashi felt a slight breeze in the air and looked up. In the shadows of the dungeon stood a barely recognisable silhouette, but with a easily recognized chakra signature. He waited patiently until it emerged from the shadows at a leisurely pace.

“Hatake Kakashi,” Danzo greeted him, a slight smile playing around his lips.

“Shimura Danzo,” Kakashi replied listlessly, “didn't think you'd be here.”

The bandaged old man laughed weakly.

“Don't you remember?”, spoke Danzo and paused before speaking again.

“I want what everyone wants, what Konoha wants. To know who we're dealing with.”

Danzo tilted his head slightly and placed his finger against his lips thoughtfully.

“Are you our Kakashi? Minato and Kushina had warned that it could be to summon something or someone else. Although I would welcome the first alternative, since you still owe us very - and I emphasise - very important information.”

Kakashi just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his cell as if it were a kingdom.

“It's risky to give me, a supposed stranger, such sensitive information, don't you think? I may have lost my mind, though I'm not sure which is more unlikely,” Kakashi spoke and an animalistic expression contorted his face as he grabbed Danzo's throat in the next second and smashed his face against the bars.

However, Danzo signalled to the guards that they should stay back.

“But don't underestimate me. This is either Tsukuyomi or somehow everyone has managed to be alive again. Don't forget who. I Am.”

And with that, he released Danzo from his iron grip, causing him to stumble back a few steps before straightening up and smoothing his clothes. Kakashi didn't miss the fact that he was now out of arm's reach and smirked.

“We're both loyal to Konoha. I may not have understood it in my day, but we'd make great allies. Don't you think?” Kakashi smiled maniacally, showing his pointed wolf teeth.

“Trust me,” Danzo murmured, “I know for sure who Hatake Kakashi is. And it's definitely not you. Unless dying has twisted your mind like this. I can see it's going to take a lot more than a nice conversation to elicit information from you.”

“I want an Aburame,” Kakashi suddenly demanded.

Danzo raised his eyebrow sceptically.

“What for?”

But nothing but silence met him. Nothing but Kakashi's penetrating stare, which seemed to look into his soul. Which seemed as if it already knew every single one of his dirty little secrets.

“Next time, a Yamanaka and an Uchiha will come to check your identity and your mental state.”

Neither rejection nor agreement to Kakashi's demand. And so Danzo disappeared into the shadows from which he had come. And once again, the last Hatake was alone. In a dungeon. Hours must have passed before quick, irregular footsteps echoed on the walls and three people stood before him.

Uchiha Fugaku. Yamanaka Fuu. Aburame Shikuro.

His gaze lingered on the Aburame. Aburame were naturally immune to genjutsu because of their bugs. Kakashi had already tried all kinds of techniques to break a possible genjutsu. And while genjutsu could completely override sensory perception, it would never affect chakra sensitivity, which was why Kakashi could safely say that in front of him stood living proof that he had now gone completely insane for good.

They all looked at Kakashi in disbelief when they saw him and Fugaku in particular glared at him in rage.

He must have heard from Obito. Wonderful.

Kakashi also stood to his full height and with his head held high. But before he could even make a sound, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed bonelessly.

“Now we can work undisturbed,” Fuu said and instructed the guards to open the heavily secured cell, which creaked open.

They stepped inside and knelt down next to the snow-white devil. The Yamanaka looked expectantly at the others, who nodded confidently, and so they wormed their way into Kakashi's mind.

Chapter Text

Yamanaka Fuu, Uchiha Fugaku and Aburame Shikuro all knelt beside the prisoner and looked at each other expectantly until they nodded in self-determination. Shikuro would watch over their bodies from the outside, while Fuu and Fugaku would worm their way into Kakashi's mind.

Kakashi could feel the Yamanaka penetrating his thoughts. The air around him crackled with tension. Pure chakra instinctively shot through his entire body and he could distantly hear his raw and pain-filled screams echoing off the walls of his cell.

It was a bright white flash that flashed through his mind and Kakashi was no more.

Fuu and Fugaku stood in a void. No space full of bright colours. No drawers. Just a yawning emptiness. It was different for everyone, some people organised their thoughts behind doors, others left them to chaos. But there were also those who could hide their nature. And so Fuu saw nothing. For the time being.

“Where is that bastard hiding?” Fugaku spat.

His words echoed several times in the void. Without any sign.

“He's probably had some experience with Yamanaka. It's an unconscious defence that has to be built up over several years. And from the looks of things here, decades,” Fuu explained calmly, pushing forward with his kekkei genkai.

Fugaku activated his Sharingan when Fuu unexpectedly placed his hand on his shoulder and their surroundings changed. He himself, however, felt as if he was in free fall. But his partner held him firmly in place. They were in the eye of a maelstrom of darkness that seemed to wrap itself ever tighter around them.

Fugaku tried to escape, to flee, but he couldn't budge. They floated weightlessly in the absolute darkness and felt the heavy weight of this blackness. Heavier and heavier this force weighed on them and Fugaku feared being crushed if they did not suffocate from its overwhelming display.

Finally, the storm engulfed them and memories and emotions passed them by, whose very existence radiated a tantalising sweetness in which they could have spent eternity. But they had to remember and reach their destination, even if they could not yet say for sure what it would be.

They landed hard and Fugaku felt the icy stone under his hands. When the area around them had fully manifested, Fugaku scrutinised it urgently.

“What is this place?” he whispered weakly, straightening up.

They were in a prison, almost identical to the one Kakashi was chained in at the moment, but it was drenched in a scarlet light. It was empty. Without any life. Fugaku looked at the long corridor that stretched out in front of them and stopped in shock when he realised what they had just walked over. The bones of his victims.

Blood was flowing from the dark cells and Fugaku looked at the viscous lifeblood in fear, but he couldn't see what was in the cells or where all the blood was coming from.

The further they ran along the corridor, the more clearly they could hear a soft whimpering sound that seemed to come from far away, and the faster the corridor seemed to move towards them, until they almost fell into a wide gaping hole into which the blood rushed down. In front of them, the tunnel of prison cells ended and a deep hole, shaped like a tunnel, yawned as the manifestation of the undeniable nothingness in the ground.

Doubtingly, Fugaku looked at the hole as he noticed Fuu watching him with amusement.

“What are you looking at me like that for? I'm doing this for the first time,” Fugaku defended himself and crossed his arms.

Fuu merely shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I must say I'm quite curious,” Fuu admitted, “Normally, and you'd be surprised, even with missing nin, hard killers, the first manifestation is frozen fireworks, rainbows or beloved places. Something like this,” and he shook his head helplessly, “is a more complex matter. Once we have full and complete access to his subconscious, we might be able to see the fireworks.”

Fugaku stared at him for a few seconds.

“What bloody fireworks, please?”

“There are no excuses,” Fuu quoted simply, jumping as the Uchiha's eyes widened comedically.

“You sick...” he began, before exhaling deeply and grabbing his head.

“Yeah, just jump,” Fugaku complained loudly and took a few steps back until he got over himself, took a running start and jumped after Fuu.

The full moon shone softly through the large window of the Hatake mansion, where Fugaku found himself standing next to Fuu. The night was cool and a small Kakashi gazed at the clear starry sky. The crickets chirped and his breathing left little clouds in the air, illuminated by the pale moonlight. He reminded Fugaku of his little son Sasuke with his big eyes and the wonder on his face.

Wide-eyed, Kakashi stared upwards and smiled happily when he saw a shooting star. Smiling under his mask, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together like a prayer to make a wish. He then sent out his white chakra and chuckled contentedly as he watched it dissolve into the glittering air around him.

“At least it's Hatake Kakashi,” Fugaku commented with a raised eyebrow.

“The question is what drove him to suddenly murder 27 Anbu members and four jounin in cold blood and send dozens more to hospital.”

The Uchiha head waited patiently for Fuu to continue.

“The job of gathering enough information for a conviction has only just begun. Working through memories, delusions, dreams and so on until we find something decisive can take a long time. This is evident from the fact that he shows us such trivial memories even in his current state,” Fuu explained seriously, furrowing his brow as the five-year-old Kakashi stared at them both.

But with a look that was unnatural for a child.

“As soon as his mind can't keep up, I'll strike. He'll try to fight us, and you'll be the distraction. So please, enjoy the show.”

Fugaku nodded and both of Kakashi's eyes coloured red, like a Sharingan. But before he could tell Fuu, his eyes had returned to a normal colour and the boy was on his way to the Hatake house. Kakashi ran happily towards his sitting father.

“Why is his hand so cold?” Kakashi's thoughts echoed and Fugaku closed his eyes knowingly.

He slowly walked around Sakumo and froze. Deep down, he knew that there was no justice. But in his childish naivety, he had assumed that it could never happen. Death. A nightmare. Reality. Red dripped from his mouth and his white tabi socks were soaked through the pool of blood he was standing in.

“No...” he whispered in disbelief.

“No...” he refused.

Kakashi's whole body trembled as his tears fell to the ground. The surroundings darkened. He didn't notice how someone took him in their arms as he began to cry. Neither Fuu nor Fugaku could recognise him, but they knew that it was Minato who had found him there.

“No!” he screamed at the top of his lungs and Fugaku was heartbroken to see him so devastated.

"Shh... shh..." the stranger tried to calm him down, but Kakashi hardly noticed anything other than the coldness of the lifeless body in front of him.

He didn't dare to touch the fragile, lifeless body, afraid that it could disappear at any moment. He didn't notice how they took him away from his father, how they put freezing chains on him and threw him into a cold dungeon. And all at once his desperate cries of lamentation stopped.

Lord Third stared in shock at the young Kakashi, who just stood there silently and cursed his father with his head bowed and his eyes filled with hatred. Worst of all, however, were the silent tears that only hinted at his broken heart. A female Anbu cautiously reached out for him, but stopped short of touching him at the Hokage's command.

“Kakashi?” asked Sarutobi levelled to begin the interrogation.

The boy did not answer. Slowly, the Hokage knelt down to him with his pipe and what he saw suffocated him. It was a cruel and chilling sight that left him paralysed. He almost thought that a shinigami had possessed Kakashi himself.

Kakashi turned to the Hokage and his Anbu and looked at them with his empty, questioning eyes, which had previously sparkled with wonder and childlike joy. Now they were like those of a dead. Wide open, unfocussed and expressionless. Instead, he forced a smile onto his lips that looked more like that of a madman. Of a broken boy. Of a monster.

The devouring grin of a devil who could only hold himself together through the tar of grief and cursed fear. This was the sight that would drive Sarutobi mad. Without giving him another glance, the Hokage strode out of the dungeon. Fuu hadn't been present at this encounter himself, but he knew that if Danzo hadn't wanted to portray his father's death as a suicide for political purposes, Kakashi would probably have had to rot in a cell like this for the rest of his miserable life.

The painful smile disappeared after a few minutes when Kakashi realised that he was just a monster to everyone. Who had supposedly killed his own father. But this time he didn't cry, didn't mourn and couldn't feel anything anymore. No, this time he stabbed.

And the worst part of it all was the eyes. Eyes. The way they looked at him. Kakashi couldn't escape them and it crushed him. Drove him mad. The eyes, they were all staring at him on the battlefield.

They condemned him. They pitied him.

Kakashi plunged his tanto through his chest and killed him. He saw the confusion spread and he saw that even the dead man took pity on him. That look was worse than all the glazed eyes that followed him.

Weakness.

His hands were stained with blood and his first reaction was pure horror. He stared down at himself as the soldiers died in the rain and dirt. He stared at his hands and all the blood of a stranger he hadn't even known and then had simply decided on his death. And it all seemed so wrong to him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Time passed and Kakashi didn't know how long he had been standing there. Still and silent. Finally, someone put a hand on his shoulder and said something to him, but he didn't listen. Bodies lay everywhere. Kakashi walked through mud and blood. And the only thing that came to his mind was hopelessness.

Cruelty.

Truth.

Nobody asked why. The way back to his troop seemed endless and now it wasn't just the dead who were staring at him. No, every single soldier he passed lowered their heads and took off their helmets. Their eyes would suddenly darken and glisten with moisture.

He knew that he was covered from head to toe in red mud and that the tears would fall incessantly. When they had stared enough, they quickly looked away. Afraid that they would be punished. Punished for thinking about how inhumane it was to send a five-year-old boy to war and then let him survive.

It was a lonely world.

A cruel world.

They avoided it. People stared. He was alone. And it hurt him deep in his heart. In the evenings, he would sit alone in his dark room, staring silently and quietly outside, while grief suffocated him and nothing but darkness surrounded him.

And so he fought his way through every single day to grin death in the face. But everyone fears death first. With a blade, covered in scarlet blood as it soaked his hair and clothes. As far as the eye could see, corpses paved his path until the streams, the earth and the rain turned red.

The corpses reached for him, wanting to drag him with them to the afterlife, while he used them as paving stones.

Not just the eyes. Their pleading, plaintive pleas that haunted him day and night. He cut their throats one by one without further delay. The screams fell silent, leaving only an agonised gasp in their wake. Kakashi watched as they slowly suffocated and their bodies twitched uncontrollably in pain.

He could hear the whispers. The eyes. The grasping. On the battlefield, he could escape it all. But in Konoha, they still stared at him. Whispered.

Pity turned into fear.

Fear turned into hatred.

Cold-blooded Friend-killer. Kakashi of the Sharingan. Bloodhound.

And Kakashi learnt to ignore it. Learned to die. Until it distorted him. Until the bloodlust, the eyes, the outstretched hands pulled him into the abyss. Further and further and further.

Uchiha Fugaku's whole body trembled and the cold ate through his flesh, leaving a dark emptiness behind. When he was able to relax somewhat, he opened his eyes, but he saw only black and weakly tried to sit up.

Tired, he rubbed his eyes and disorientated, he scanned his surroundings. His fingers encountered cold stone and damp metal, and rough glass was scattered all over the floor. Breathing heavily, he gasped for air and the ringing in his ears disappeared over time, but he noticed something in the silence. In order to hear it better, he held his breath and activated his Sharingan. The sound became clearer, but even his blood-red eyes couldn't recognise anyone.

It was like breathing echoing through the room and so he pressed himself against the pointed rock wall to get some protection.

“Kakashi?” he whispered uncertainly and the breathing came closer.

His head throbbed and anxiously he backed away from the sound. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and he had to cough, causing him to spit up blood again and he held his ribs in agonising pain.

“Yamanaka? Aburame?” he asked again, but more desperately than before.

His voice trembled and his pulse raced. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he actually heard a voice.

“Who am I?” the voice echoed dangerously cheerfully in the darkness and Fugaku felt a shadow move around him.

“I am what everyone fears and yet the only thing that keeps them in existence. Illusion. Truth. Redemption?”

An evil laugh rang out again. Fugaku gasped in pain again and doubled over. The shadow came closer and closer until he could hear the breathing right by his ear.

“I am actuality. Reality. A reflection of the world and the people,” it whispered softly in his ear, emphasising every word.

And as quickly as the shadow had arrived, it retreated into the dark blackness, leaving behind nothing but a hint of emptiness. Disorientated, Fugaku tried to get up, but he was too dizzy, only to suddenly find himself lying on his back on the floor of the Uchiha mansion.

The walls and carpets were splattered in red and the last Hatake was enthroned above him with an Anbu mask. In a flash, he rushed forward and grabbed Fugaku by the neck with one hand. With the other hand, he pulled out his knife and plunged it precisely into Fugaku's eye socket.

“Look, new Obito,” he pointed to his scarred eye, “Now we look almost the same.”

Overcome with pain, Fugaku screamed and tried to crawl away slowly. Just as deliberately, Kakashi crept through the darkness like a predator and circled him, his eye glinting dangerously with sheer rage.

Around him stood three more bloodied Anbu from Team Ro, staring at Kakashi unmercifully.

“A monster,” said Uzuki Yuugao.

“I can't watch them suffer anymore,” complained Yamato.

“Even Root murders more humanly and doesn't leave the places like hell risen, friend-killer,” Itachi rebuked and thousands of swords pierced Kakashi.

Fugaku vomited.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” Kakashi whispered as his Anbu mask fell to the ground and shattered.

“We'll have to get rid of him the next chance we get,” someone said and the others nodded in agreement.

Menacingly, they came closer and closer until Yamato's gaze fell on Fugaku.

“He can no longer be saved. There comes a point when it's simply too late to save anyone. He's been a monster for far too long. Now he'll be one forever.”

While Kakashi mumbled his apologies quietly in agony, an older version with two glowing Sharingan eyes and black Hokage robes emerged from the shadows. He stepped in front of the younger unmasked Anbu Hound.

“You are so easily rattled. Already making plans to overthrow your beloved senpai. And Yamato, I am deeply touched by your feelings. I appreciate your fear,” said the Shadow Hokage, looking at them all with a sarcastic smile until it gave way to wide eyes and a belligerent pose.

“You'd better be glad I spared you after you spouted such contemptuous words. I only ever ask one thing of you. Not respect, not friendship, nothing. Except complete loyalty to your superior on a mission.”

Team Ro fell silent in shock and tears of fear welled up in their eyes. Team Ro was joined by Team 7. Team Minto. The third division.

“How many times have I saved you? How many times have I been the only reason you are still alive! I may be a monster, but I have always treated you, my own Kohai, with respect and all I ask of you, is that you treat me with the same respect! Is this little spark of humanity too much to ask?!” he shouted angrily.

“Can you imagine what it's like when your own team tries to plot murder against me? Not a single one of you has ever realised that I'm only human! Not one! The only thing everyone sees are my scars and how mercilessly I cut down my, Konoha's, enemies. I, a single, small child, have taught an entire nation to fear and my own comrades are trying to kill me.”

The Shadow Hokage shook his head and punished his team with hateful death stares. No one dared to move, let alone breathe at all.

“Don't worry, your chance will come soon and then you'll be rid of me, but until then, I demand your loyalty. That's the only thing I want. Even if it's just an illusion.”

His eyes fell on Fugaku, who noticed the heavy and tight chains the shadow dragged behind him. Kakashi's wish, deeply locked away, would never see a hint of the sun. Born of his hatred, which nevertheless grew uncontrollably. And all eyes ever saw was the potential to break out, to leave Konoha. To turn his back on them. The threat if the chains were to loosen.

Eyes.

Hundreds of eyes fixed their gaze on Fugaku and he felt literally pierced. Worthless. Thousands of them whispered. Kakashi breathed it in and his chains stopped him just before he could reach Fugaku.

“The truth is, I crave it. The bloodshed. The sheer terror in their gazes. They took it away from me, snatched me from my being.”

Porn books in public became a habit.

More abstruse challenges with Gai as a substitute.

Laziness became a necessity.

“Even being a Hokage could never equal that.”

With the forced resignation as Anbu captain, he became a worthless one, a marked one. Deprived of a home. After the deaths of Naruto and Sasuke, he was all too willing to take on the role of Shadow Hokage. With Gai's, he turned completely to Anbu as his creator.

The spilt blood became a river, then a sea. Until it threatened to drown them. And so he went mad again. Looked towards the land under the scarlet sky as his home.

Fitting for a devil.

The shadows fell deeper and the nightmares became more and more real. His name was whispered as one of the old and forgotten gods. With the sound of the bell, his mind was buried beneath his madness and his soul was dragged into the abyss where death had long been waiting for him.

An indescribable power, so fragile and yet so strong and powerful. Fugaku could see it. They were splinters, fragments. Accumulations of energies of living and dead things. They took on indescribable forms and immortalised past things in infinity, in light and darkness.

He could feel the peace spreading through Kakashi with death. He was in a place, in a time full of dazzling colours and he felt the pure, energetic vibrations. It was a perfect dimension of vision. You could see everything from there. Every time, every place. The desires, regrets and emotions of all life. Kakashi's emotions, memories and desires were also omnipresent, making death his personal hell during his lifetime.

Anger, sadness and suffering. Kakashi felt it all to an unprecedented degree. His being constantly reflected and refracted. The destructive force turned against him and this feeling of being skinned, burned and mauled alive at every second at the same time now made the mind-walk collapse.

Kill them.

The perfectly polished diamond of a dimension that had previously been filled with radiant colours revealed its depths to the darkness and fought against the intruders. The omnipresent energies of souls shattered, leaving storms of chaos in their wake.

Break them.

Kakashi could have stayed there longer, longer he would have liked to escape reality. Just for a moment longer. But nothing lasts forever.

Fuu pulled himself and Fugaku back from the depths of Hatake's mind through a kaleidoscope of horror. As his mind returned to his own body, his ears rushed and only a bright ringing could be heard.

Fugaku sank to his knees, exhausted. Face to face with the prisoner. He had seen, he had seen Hatake Kakashi. His inner self, wishes, regrets, memories.

He has seen.

Chapter Text

Kakashi woke up in the infirmary and the bright light blinded him. He recognised a metallic taste in his mouth and had to cough because his throat was as dry as sand. A nurse hurriedly approached him.

“Don't rush! Here...”

She held out a glass of water to him, which he eyed suspiciously at first and smelled briefly before quickly gulping it down. Once he had taken a deep breath, he sat up sorrowfully. She handed him a mirror and Kakashi saw nothing but a dirty tool in the mirror. There was blood on his face. Under his nose, on his ears and bloody tears under his eyes. It was nothing new after a mind walk by a Yamanaka, but the more frequent, the worse. It left the mind in disarray. In most cases, it would take some time for all the side effects to subside.

He nodded gratefully to the nurse as she pointed to the bathroom.

“Go and wash up.”

Kakashi was still a little wobbly on his feet and had difficulty making it into the bathroom. The water turned red and the blood mixed into the same general colour as the surrounding water. Meaningless.

Drop by drop.

“...shi.”

Something warm trickled over his lips again and, confused, he wiped it off with his hand. He had a nosebleed.

Dripping.

“Kakashi,” Minato spoke louder and dizzily, Kakashi backed away from the stranger.

Slowly, Minato raised his hands in a gesture to signal that he would not attack.

“We have placed a seal, which will not allow you to speak for the time being,” the stranger explained bitterly, almost sympathetically.

Kakashi looked at him in confusion and touched his throat. He backed away with every step the person took towards him and got into a fighting stance, whereupon the person stopped immediately.

“Don't you recognise me?” his counterpart asked in surprise, while Kakashi looked at him in irritation.

“It's me, Minato,” he now spoke in a soft voice.

Minato. Minato is dead , his thoughts supplied unhelpfully. But the feeling spread that the stranger was speaking the truth and pieces of his memory came back into place.

“Minato-sensei?” Kakashi communicated hesitantly in Anbu's sign language, while still taking a step back to put distance between them.

The person in front of him smiled warmly.

“Exactly. You're in hospital in Konoha,” he explained calmly, but seemed reluctant to continue, “You've been revived, remember?”

Shadowy images flashed before Kakashi's inner eye until he looked at Minato, shaken.

“I,” Kakashi stopped with his hand gesture before he quickly asked, “Did I kill Rin?”

Minato looked sadly to the ground.

“Tsunade is still taking care of it, but it's not quite sure yet if she'll make it,” he explained exhaustedly, “Obito is with her day and night.”

Kakashi closed his eyes, cursing himself as a wave of dizziness hit him and he leaned against a wall.

“How many?”

Minato looked at him pleadingly.

“How many?” Kakashi asked again.

“Thirty-one. Thirty-one people have died, Kakashi,” Minato whispered, concerned, “I only exchanged a few words with Yamanaka Fuu, the full evaluation will be revealed during the meeting with the clan heads.”

The wheels were turning in Kakashi's head.

Yamaka Fuu? Wasn't there something about Danzo?

But no matter how hard he tried, his mind offered him only a blank.

“You will appear too. You'll be brought in later. Kushina has also placed a chakra suppression seal on you, preventing your chakra from leaking out. However, as you probably know, it is an incomplete seal because of the danger of it discharging on yourself. And your chakra is extremely unstable, especially now,” Minato explained very carefully and watched as Kakashi staggered back into the hospital room with his nosebleed.

Kakashi didn't want to believe it and at the same time he didn't care that he had killed them. He also didn't care what they would do to him. He had already made more than a mere acquaintance with death. His dizziness briefly overcame him, but Minato led him the last few steps to his bed, where he sat down without resistance.

“Careful,” Minato whispered worriedly.

“I’m all right,” Kakashi weakly assured as two Anbu appeared.

“I have to go then. The meeting begins,” Minato's shadow clone spoke and puffed away.

The clone's memories merged with Minato's.

It was loud. The crowd spoke against each other so that no one could understand each other. The leaders of all the clans of Konohagakure had been summoned and Minato sighed as he watched the hustle and bustle, exhausted. It was an important meeting, but if everyone was just arguing with each other, he could wait a long time for an agreement. Before he intervened in the situation, he quickly took a bitter sip from his cup. Then he slowly stood up and took a deep breath.

“Enough!”

The clan leaders fell silent and turned irritably to their Hokage.

“While you are arguing here, the Land of Water is sinking into a civil war, threatening to ally itself with the Land of Lightning, the Land of Snow and the one of Frost. War is approaching! And it won't be long now,” Minato warned angrily and urgently.

Full of responsibility.

No one dared to speak.

“It is already certain that if such a war breaks out, we do not have enough ninja, nor are the ones we have sufficiently trained. We desperately need allies.”

His voice was now filled less with anger and more with fear and determination. The clan leaders were visibly intimidated by the prospect and began to grow restless again.

“We, not just Konoha, but the entire Land of Fire have made an alliance. A promise. We made a promise to be one unit, one will in times like the ones ahead.”

He paused. Everyone knew the oath the villages had taken.

“For several decades, the Will of Fire has given us strength. But its reign is coming to an end with the disappearance of peace. For some years now, the Peace Trials have been established as a substitute for the Chuunin Selection Exam to determine the political order. The death rate of graduates has fallen considerably. The war will most likely return during these competitions, and to an unprecedented extent.”

“If all is lost, what else can we do? The Lands of Earth and Iron are too far away to support us to any great extent, and the Lands of Rice Fields and of Whirlpools are too small to be of any use to us. Only Hot Water would remain and even that is not certain,” said Hyuuga Hiashi.

The others looked irritated at him, who had dared to speak without being asked. However, everyone could recognise his pure desperation.

“We will mobilise all the forces we can and ask the daimyou to remind the other nations of our peace pact, as well as to extend the age of those able to fight again. We cannot afford to be attacked on two fronts at the same time. We can only win together,” Minato emphasised, lowering his eyes, “The truth? If we surrender, they will slaughter us. And they won't stop until they've found us all and wiped us out.”

Everyone understood that political tensions were high and the west of the Hidden Shinobi Continent was slowly but surely heading towards an impending war. Minato's features did not betray a single one of his thoughts. Kushina stood up and the Hokage conceded.

“The Uzumaki clan still has temples in Uzushiogakure that are intact but can only be opened by an Uzumaki. I could search the temples there with a group for scrolls of helpful seals, techniques and perhaps jutsu,” concluded Kushina.

Nara Shikaku then rose to stand.

“Uzushiogakure is said to be under the control of an unknown group that is probably hostile to us. I advise to first send an Anbu squad to ensure the safety of our only Jinchuriki. Furthermore, Kakashi's mission that led to the assassination of the Water Daimyou has plunged the country into civil war, which is also affecting our ally the Land of Waves, who are also on the brink of war with the Land of the Seas. We are expected to support them.”

The crowd began to murmur again. Cautiously, Sarutobi Asuma spoke up.

“I don't want to seem rude, Lord Fourth, but Hatake Kakashi was supposed to steal a forbidden scroll of the seals of Kiri, the contents of which only he knows, as it is known to have been completely destroyed. Its contents could quickly give us a strategic advantage. And I think it's in all our interests to know where he stands,” he asked very carefully and, like everyone else, eyed Minato intently as he folded his hands in front of his face in stress.

Minato didn't answer for a painfully long time before he waved to his anbu-guard to fetch Kakashi and the witnesses.

“As I'm sure you all know, Hatake Kakashi died on this mission at the age of 19. The ritual was successful. We have revived Hatake Kakashi.”

Minato waited until the whispers of disbelief died down and continued.

“But this Kakashi has no memory of such a mission.”

And with those words, chaos broke out again. Accusations were thrown at him, intrigues were insinuated and obvious disapproval was voiced until the doors opened and they all fell silent to a dead stillness and a pale Uchiha Fugaku entered and quietly took his place.

Dangerous was no expression for the power that the following creature radiated as it entered the room. Hatake Kakashi. Whose revival could turn out to be the biggest mistake in the history of the world. He obediently stood diagonally behind the Hokage, while Minato unintentionally tensed up.

He was followed by Yamanaka Fuu, who nodded respectfully to his clan head Yamanaka Inoichi, and Shimura Danzo behind him.

But all eyes were glued to the Hatake with snow-white hair and scarred skin.

“Yamanaka Fuu and Uchiha Fugaku have carried out the interrogation using Saiko Denshin, the psycho mind transmission. Hatake is currently prevented by seals from speaking or directing his chakra outwards in any way. Fuu and Fugaku will present the information they have gathered in the following.”

Minato motioned for Fuu to proceed.

“Thank you, Lord Hokage. The interrogation began four days ago and lasted a total of three days. It followed the resurrection using a modified seal of the Edo Tensei and the Dead Demon Consuming Seal based on Uzumaki technique, who have been known to make deals with the gods of death for centuries. First of all, it is indeed Hatake Kakashi, ID number 009720, but he is fundamentally different from who he was before.”

Minato looked so exhausted and spent at that moment that the clan leaders looked at Fuu uncertainly and almost nervously, asking for an answer.

“The memories are consistent with what we know of Hatake up until the Kanabi Bridge mission in the Grass Realm, between the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth, at the end of the Third Shinobi World War. Instead of saving his teammate Uchiha Obito, he left him half crushed under a rock to die and took his recently awakened Sharingan with him,” Fuu replied curtly and Minato's face seemed to turn chalky white.

“Bloodline thief,” Hiashi spat contemptuously and Fugaku looked thoughtfully at Kakashi's one blind eye.

Kakashi, however, stared at Obito, his face covered in blood, who stood in front of him and reached out to scratch out his blind eye. He shook his head imperceptibly so that the hallucination disappeared.

“A few weeks later, Hatake murdered his other teammate Nohara Rin, who had become Isobu's jinchuriki, by thrusting his chidori through her chest, killing her instantly. Nevertheless, he initially entered Anbu as the Anbu guard of the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed, who escaped under his watch. Many died as a result, most notably the fourth Hokage Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina,” Fuu continued as Kakashi's hands began to tremble.

“He what?” asked Kushina in dismay.

“He killed a Jinchuriki with just one chidori?” asked Inuzuka Tsume in disbelief and Fuu nodded curtly.

Kakashi was standing right there on the battlefield, his hand in her ribcage, which was now overlapping with the image of him ripping her intestines apart. And Minato and Kushina lay dying at his feet before he was brought down to earth by Fuu's voice.

“In addition, under his command of Anbu Team Ro, one of his subordinates went rogue and massacred all members of the Uchiha clan. He himself was involved in an assassination attempt on the reigning third Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen and actively conspired against him,” he continued, careful not to mention Root or Danzo.

Now it was Asuma's turn to stare anywhere but in the vague direction of Kakashi.

“After ten years in Anbu, he was demoted to Jounin Sensei, where one of his students also went rogue and joined the same terrorist organisation as the previous one. In the Fourth Shinobi World War, he fought side by side with his renegade terrorist student and is once again responsible for the deaths of thousands of shinobi.”

Hatred, astonishment and shock flooded the room while their faces seemed to Kakashi to be filled with their silent screams as their rotting flesh fell from their dead bodies before his eyes.

“There was a fourth shinobi war?” shuddered Chouza in a whisper.

“How could you?” complained Hiashi angrily.

“In the fourth war, Hatake Kakashi died for the first time and was revived by the leader of the terrorist organisation, after which he was appointed the sixth Hokage and amnestied his renegade disciple. He held this position for more than twelve years, actively endeavouring to cover up his previous conspiracy.”

Disgust and disapproval showed on their faces that such a thing could become Hokage.

“Two years later, he instructs the death of the seventh Hokage and the Shadow Hokage, after which a fifth Shinobi World War ensues and he takes the place as the Lord Eighth's Shadow Hokage.”

Neither exclamations nor whispers, just disbelieving silence. Even if he had, he couldn't hear them over the roaring in his ears.

“Eventually he abandons his last remaining comrade Maito Gai, who is brutally killed by enemy attackers, whereupon Hatake covers the post of supreme Anbu commander and makes the Konoha Military Police Force dependent on the Anbu. With no ambition to be Hokage in the public eye, he pursues his machinations from the shadows for another thirty years and initiates the Sixth World War. There he finally dies a second time before being resurrected by us,” Fuu finished.

No one knew how exactly they should react to the revelation of such information.

Kakashi's gaze was fixed on the ground. Gai's cries echoed in the dark shadows of the room and he was asked something, but as if he was in some kind of trance, he did not understand their words. Instead, he felt his unbalanced chakra rising within him. It must have startled some Anbu guards, because they immediately drew their kunai.

Kushina saw Kakashi's whole body trembling and his pupils twitching uncontrollably. With a quick hand signal, she checked whether the seals were still intact and nodded to Minato, who nodded back grimly.

Kakashi wanted it to stop, but he only pressed his lips tightly together as the pain seemed to consume him up from the inside out. The clan leaders only looked at him with disgust. An outcast abomination that wasn't worth it.

His senses became dull and as he stood at his deepest abyss, in a hellish agony, unable to help himself, the Hokage asked him only one question.

“Guilty or not guilty?” it echoed over and over again as his looming shadow bent over Kakashi.

Tears rolled down Kakashi's face and he opened his mouth to say the words, but was overwhelmed by a wave of pain. Finally, after several shallow breaths, he managed and squeezed out the sentence.

“Guilty,” he whispered.

“Guilty,” he repeated, stricken.

All at once he awoke and found himself pressing a weapon to the throat of an Anbu guard. He immediately dropped the kunai, which hit the ground with a clatter, and looked confusedly into the shocked faces of the Hokage and the clan leaders.

He bowed his head apologetically and slowly walked out of the room, while the Anbu guards followed at a safe distance.

When the doors closed again, Minato decided to speak.

“We don't know if Hatake actually experienced this, which would imply that he came from an alternate reality. We don't know if his mind simply spun this story while he was dead. Similar to coma patients, which is probably more likely. This would mean that there is still the possibility of accessing the knowledge of the Forbidden Scroll of Seals. What we do know is that Hatake thinks it's real. Anyway, his mind has shown that he has knowledge of jutsu and techniques, even clan secrets that he shouldn't have.”

“And I dare to believe that Hatake, despite insinuating the truth of his atrocities and currently having no memories of his mission, has a higher value now than before his death,” Minato reluctantly pressed out.

“We have no right to pass judgement on deeds that he may have committed in an alternate dimension, or that may just be a figment of his imagination. We don't even have any objective evidence for that,” Shikaku added.

“It is also questionable whether he can be convicted of assassinating the Water Daimyou and starting a highly probable war in this mental state,” he sighed.

“It would be highly unfair to let him go unpunished!” complained Inoichi.

“The important thing is whether Kakashi is still loyal to Konoha in his perception. Whether he's of any use to us at all,” Asuma interjected.

Fugaku laughed weakly and all eyes turned to him.

“Oh, I think Hatake is loyal,” he murmured.

“You've been inside his head too, seen what makes him tick. Please, explain,” Tsume asked neutrally, arms crossed.

“His psyche...” Fugaku shook his head, “is an absolute mess. We got a small, really small glimpse of what the dimension of death looks like and it's beyond words. All I can say is that it's quite possible that it twisted his mind in such a way that this story only exists in his head. It was- He... They wer-’ Fugaku's words got stuck in his throat, so he closed his eyes and massaged his temples against the throbbing.

Kushina gently placed a hand on his shoulder and they all waited patiently.

“It wasn't the land of peace we imagined. No, no. It was pure torture. It split his soul and disfigured it beyond recognition. Mentally? Absolutely and utterly insane. But loyal. He has a treacherous side too, without question, but it's buried deep, deep down.”

Inoichi stood up calmly and looked round.

“To be really sure, we could try something similar to the mind prisons to keep the Biju under control. We could suppress specific bits of his memories. With the knowledge he apparently posses, he can't fall into someone else's hands or betray us. Not at any price.”

“Either we kill him so that no one can ever raise him from the dead again, or bring him under our control so that we can use him for the good of Konoha,” Danzo said approvingly.

“I would provide an Anbu team to monitor him around the clock and put all the protocols in place as for a Jinchuriki. If the case arises that we don't vote in favour of his execution, Inoichi and Kushina, by using seals, will take care of special protective measures,” the Hokage nodded, “That would leave us with a vote on the matter if no one has anything to add.”

When no one spoke, Minato continued.

“Vote with file number L0065-S will be opened on the issue at hand. Absent clan leaders will not be included in the vote. The subject is the immediate execution of Hatake Kakashi or whether he should be provisionally reintegrated for the purposes of the village. Who votes for mobilisation as an asset of Konoha?”

All but the Aburame, Uchiha, Kurama and Kedouin clan raised their hands.

“Who votes for his immediate death?”

The leader of the Kurama clan was the only one to lift his hand.

“Who abstains from voting?’

The remaining three clan leaders gave a sign with their hands.

“Then the vote is over. Hatake Kakashi will be reintegrated.”

“We could start by using Hatake for the Peace Trials,” Hiashi opened.

“Despite my choice to let him live for the time being, I still recommend punishing him. He killed 31 leaf-nin!” Inoichi replied.

“It's a well-known fact that the competitions can only have one winning nation, which also means that we can only choose two people. Kakashi is unsuitable for such an important role,” Asuma rejected the Hyuuga head's suggestion.

“But if a war breaks out anyway, the result of the competitions won't count for much,” Shikaku replied, “At the same time, nominating Kakashi, who was thought to be dead, would throw our enemies off balance and serve as a punishment, as he would either survive or die.”

“Tsunade already falls out of the picture with her fear of blood. Jiraya has already refused several times. Minato is Hokage and Kushina as Jinchuriki can't be sent to the battles either. Itachi is promising, but too young and cannot be exposed. Like many other young, talented leaf-nin. Only one of the two sent out must survive, not necessarily both,” Hiashi argued.

“If war breaks out, our combatants would be almost the only ones we can rely on for information behind enemy lines,” Chouza agreed.

Everyone knew that being sent alone behind enemy lines meant paying with your life. To be sacrificed.

“Even if we were to nominate him, who would volunteer to be the second fighter at his side?” sneered Tsume.

“I think that before we can decide whether Hatake should even be considered, we should check his abilities,” Danzo suggested.

“As long as the civilians don't find out. If possible, it should remain between those present today and those involved in the ceremony,” Minato narrowed down seriously.

“The Uchiha clan requests that Kakashi be interrogated about the extent of his knowledge of our clan secrets, if he could have possessed a Sharingan.”

“Fugaku, I cannot allow an unsupervised interrogation. But you may have a private conversation with him,” Minato allowed and Fugaku nodded respectfully.

“Me and Jiraya could test his skills in fuuin-jutsu. For his gen-jutsu, the Uchiha or Kurama clan could be considered, as well as Sarutobi Kurenai,” Kushina advised and looked at Asuma.

“We don't want to have anything to do with that devil,” the Kurama clan head refused.

“I would have to talk to my wife about it first,” Asuma replied thoughtfully.

“I think it's hard to argue with the fact that Hatake has already shown after his awakening that he's at least as good as he was before his death,” Tsume grated.

“Still, we need to evaluate his potential,” Minato interjected wearily, “I would like to suggest Maito Gai as a tai- and ken-jutsu specialist. Since Kakashi himself has been particularly adept at nin-jutsu, I nominate Uchiha Obito and Nara Shikaku as nin-jutsu specialists.”

“How will he be kept until the evaluation?” asked Danzo slimily and Minato almost rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to ram his claws into Kakashi.

Minato briefly considered whether he should keep Kakashi in prison, but decided against it now that his identity and loyalty had been confirmed.

“He will remain under the influence of the seals for the time being and stay close to me and Kushina. In an emergency, now that we know what to deal with, she can bind him with Adamantine Sealing Chains.”

“What about your little son, Naruto? Isn't it dangerous for him if Hatake is with you in such a delicate mental state?” Danzo asked discontentedly.

“Sufficient protective measures will be taken, don't worry Danzo,” Minato smiled mockingly.

Chapter Text

Kakashi carefully stepped through the doorway. He looked suspiciously at the traps that Minato and Kushina had set. The floorboards creaked as he took his first step into the dark living room. It seemed... safe so far. Kushina had already removed the seal that kept him from speaking and he felt their eyes on his back. And he still had one more night to himself before Inoichi would bury his memories.

Before they would mould him into their perfect tool.

Kushina looked anxiously at Minato, who caressed her hand reassuringly as they waited quietly in front of their own front door. Kakashi cautiously switched on the light and immediately a small yellow-haired kid came running towards him.

Kakashi's gaze sharpened and the white chakra automatically gathered in his hands, but he flinched as the electricity discharged on himself. Instantly, Minato teleported in front of a tense Kakashi, who remained in position, and swung Naruto onto his arm.

"Mum! Dad! You're finally back home!" Naruto beamed and Minato kissed him lovingly on the cheek.

Kakashi watched the child warily, who looked all too much like that backstabbing traitor Boruto.

"Yeah, haha. We're back," Kushina just laughed stressed and slowly closed the door behind her.

"We have someone with-" Minato began, but was interrupted by an excited Naruto.

"Kashi-niisan!"

With shining eyes he freed himself from Minato's embrace, only to cling to Kakashi's leg the next moment. As soon as Kakashi looked into his blue hopeful and happy eyes, the resemblance to Boruto, who was engulfed in deep hatred, disappeared.

Nii-san?

He raised his eyebrow questioningly as he remained in his stiffened position, trying to fathom the small yellow bundle of energy. Very carefully, he placed his hand on his head.

"Where were you when I needed you?" Naruto whispered in disguise.

"Naruto," Kakashi greeted him with a hoarse voice and looked into his expectant eyes.

I'm sorry.

"How are you?" he asked hesitantly and Kushina visibly relaxed.

Naruto beamed at him like the rising sun and continued to cling tightly to his leg. But Kakashi's guilt weighed heavily. He was clearly aware of his failure as a sensei.

"You let me down!" his condemnation echoed.

"I ate ramen at Ichiraku's today! And painted something!" he declared victoriously.

Kakashi looked at Minato for help, who was happily looking in a different direction, probably marvelling at the beautiful tapestry. Kushina quickly scurried into the kitchen. After taking a quick breath, Kakashi gathered himself and carefully picked Naruto up.

"You were like family to me, I trusted you and hoped you'd be there. I needed you!" Naruto shouted now, his eyes moist.

"That sounds exciting," he praised awkwardly, while Naruto smiled at him overjoyed.

"Maybe you'd like to show me... what you have painted?" he asked, more to himself than to the yellow bundle of energy.

"Oh yes!" he squealed enthusiastically and dictated Kakashi to his room like the captain of his ship.

After a brief moment of unusual silence, Minato moved towards Kushina in the kitchen.

"It's nice that Kakashi has settled in so quickly," Minato commented pleased.

"But my heart really stopped for a moment!" Kushina got motherly upset and whispered seriously, "I thought for a moment that he was going to kill him. He had that look in his eyes... Was it the right decision to bring him here?"

She turned around. She could feel their home surrounded by many unfamiliar chakra signatures.

"It's just for this one night. Tomorrow Inoichi will take care of him and we'll get our Kakashi as we know him back."

"He almost killed Rin. I was shocked to hear his story. That he already killed Rin before- And now almost the same thing right after the summoning? I just want Naruto to be safe," she whispered wanly.

"Me too. Me too. But he's an important Konoha asset. He could serve us favourably as a tool in the war."

Even if he killed 31 shinobi.

Kushina gazed out of the window. These were not the words of her loving Minato, her husband, but of the Hokage of Konohagakure. In the six years since he had assumed this duty, Kushina had realised how the responsibility weighed on him and forced him to make cruel decisions.

How it slowly changed him.

"How is he?"

"Tsunade said that we should watch Kakashi in case there are more serious side effects," Minato explained, "But I haven't spoken to her since she was busy with Rin. She's going to have a look at him tomorrow."

Kushina closed her eyes.

"But how is he doing inside here?" she put the flat of her hand over Minato's heart, "I want Naruto to be safe, but it must all be very confusing for Kakashi too. I can't even imagine what it's like to suddenly be surrounded only by past faces he thinks he's killed."

A small trampling of feet came down the stairs and Kushina immediately turned to Minato and started babbling loudly like a waterfall.

"My goodness, how can he be so awkward with children. He definitely needs more practice! We'll start right away. I can put together a training schedule. Cuddle time tonight, and tomorrow morning phot- Oh! We really have to go eat together sometime at Ichiraku's!"

Minato joined in, laughing heartily and hugging her lovingly as Naruto walked down the last few steps.

"That sounds wonderful. But I think that would probably overwhelm him a bit. But I have to admit, he was really helpless," he grinned.

As if they hadn't even noticed Naruto, Kushina turned to him and pointed at his colour-stained clothes with a kitchen ladle.

"NARUTO! If you've trashed your room again, you won't be allowed to eat ramen for a week, dattebayo!" yelled Kushina as Naruto dashed innocently into the kitchen.

Kakashi also trotted down the stairs covered in splashes of colour and glitter. She stared at the two of them stunned as she suddenly burst out laughing. Minato couldn't help but smile too.

"What happened to you two?" he asked in amusement, ruffling Naruto's hair.

"I was just showing Kashi-niisan my pictures," he defended guiltlessly.

"And?" Minato asked seriously.

"I may have tried out my new glitter ball on him," Naruto sulked.

Minato sighed and Kushina proudly gave her son a fist bump.

"I like it," she whispered to him and Naruto shone.

"Up, Up! Let's eat!" Kushina triumphed, waving her ladle wildly in the air.

Kakashi watched them melancholically. Naruto had a real family. They were happy. At least there was a world where he could grow up as a normal boy with a family, where his dream was a reality. While Minato failed to keep a stern face and melted away at the sight of Naruto's smile, while Kushina was already having a competitive dinner with Naruto and Naruto simply could be a happy child, tears welled up in his eyes.

His failure enveloped him.

His guilt crushed him.

"But YOU have always turned away as if you weren't one of the most important people in my life and I was just some kind of pest! All you ever did was make clear: go away, I don't want you. Nobody likes you. You're annoying and I wish you never existed. And all I ever wanted was to look up to you, to feel your pride. You threw me away like I was trash."

Those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

He was an intruder who didn't fit into this perfect world. A shadow that threatened to destroy everything here. Just as he had already let them all down once before. Not only that, no, he had also robbed them of the Kakashi of this dimension. Robbed him of a happy life. Who was he to presume to take his place. A place he hadn't earned.

Imposter.

His head throbbed and he forced his rapid breaths to slow down. Resigned, he strolled to the food table where they were all chatting merrily and sat down. Kakashi remained in the shadows and a familiar emptiness gripped his heart.

"How could I ever forgive you?"

Naruto shook his head in disgust and pointed at him to say something angrily before mournfully dropping them again. He snorted disdainfully.

"-and Kashi-niisan was sooo cool! First it went BOOM and Kashi dodged the shuriken like this and like that," Naruto explained, gesturing wildly as he jumped across the room, "And then he caught a shuriken. LIKE THIS! And then the shuriken exploded into glitter!"

Minato choked as Kushina stroked his back.

"You did-" he coughed violently.

"You bombarded him with shuriken?" Minato croaked aghast and eyed Kakashi from the side, who was breathing unusually fast.

"YES! No! They were glitter bombs with a henge no jutsu! And he looked soooo cool!" Naruto affirmed enthusiastically.

Naruto gave Kakashi a bright smile, which dispelled the deep shadows and engulfed him in warm light. Kakashi weakly returned the smile and Naruto seemed to become even happier.

"Is Kashi staying with us tonight?" Naruto questioned expectantly.

Kushina nodded while Minato was still recovering.

"He's not only going to stay here tonight," she smiled at Naruto, whose cheerful eyes widened.

"Really?" he whispered in awe.

"And now you suddenly come crawling back. Taking what was meant for someone better. You come, but NOT because YOU. EVEN FOR A SINGLE MOMENT. CARED ABOUT ME. What do you expect from me?" Naruto shouted at him brokenly.

Kakashi listened to Naruto guiltily. Every single one of his words hurt like a well-deserved stab in his heart.

For a very long moment, Naruto's gaze lingered on Kakashi, who was having trouble focussing on Naruto's blue, blue eyes. In general, it seemed to be too hot and too cold at the same time and the kitchen light hurt his eyes. He swallowed tensely.

"Why does Kashi-niisan have so many scars?" he blurted out innocently, and Minato messed up his hair again.

"I haven't been your little, stupid, naive student for a very long time. I am your Hokage. I renounce all connections with you and your clan. You are nothing more than my subordinate and as such you show me respect."

"Kakashi was on an important mission," he explained gently and Naruto's admiration grew.

He couldn't move or he would flee headlong. Like he always did. Like a coward.

Disgust, betrayal and sadness reflected on Naruto's face as he glared him down.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

"Kashi?" everyone stared at him.

But the doorbell rang and Kushina nodded to Minato, who took Naruto to go to the door. When they were out of sight, she felt his irregular, racing pulse. The touch so hot that it melted his skin from his bones and so cold that he shivered.

"Kakashi, are you with me?"

Sluggishly, his eye focused on her face and blinked slowly. It watered because of the harsh light. A red blur filled his field of vision.

"Do you know where you are?"

Konohagakure he wanted to say, but his tongue didn't seem to want to obey him.

Konoha, Konoha, Konoha-

"Ko-" he got stuck on the word and swallowed again.

"K'n'ha?" he slurred.

The lights burned. He blinked.

"Kneel," his Hokage demanded.

His eyes bored through Kakashi's flesh. But he was frozen. He couldn't sink to his knees and beg Naruto for a just punishment. To show him respect. He had killed his Hokage.

"That's right. You're in Konoha, with your family," tears welled up in Kushina's eyes and she placed her palm on his cheek.

What have we done to you, she thought guiltily.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised, "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm sorry that I wasn't always there for you."

She hugged Kakashi regretfully.

"You're home, Kakashi. Finally home," she whispered, "You're with us. It doesn't matter what you might have done in the past. All that matters is you. If you want to talk to me, I'm here for you. I see you now, Kakashi. You. You never have to be anyone other than who you are. I love you as you are, not as you have to be or should be. I love you as if you were my own son."

Silently crying, she pulled him tighter into her arms.

"Thank you," Kakashi rasped hoarsely and hugged her back.

Kushina gasped in surprise. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she smiled warmly and leaned willingly into his comforting warmth.

"I'm sorry."

When she opened her eyes again, she saw someone standing in the doorway.

"Obito," she greeted him with a surprised welcome and quickly wiped away all her tears.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and smiled shyly.

"Eto... I'm sorry to burst in here. I thought I'd stop by."

At Kushina's seeking gaze, he added, "Minato went out to the lake with Naruto to look at the stars."

Still dazed, Kakashi broke free from the embrace and looked hesitantly in the direction of the blue blur.

Silence.

Awkwardly, Obito cleared his throat and swung his arms back and forth helplessly.

"Eto... So how's it going?" he asked with a mixture of anger and sympathy.

They stared at each other. Kakashi shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. As he tried to stand up, his surroundings turned a little sideways and his knuckles stood out white from the way he gripped the back of the chair so tightly.

"How's Rin," Kushina asked worriedly and Obito fidgeted nervously.

"She's still resting. But she told me to tell you, Kakashi, that she doesn't hold it against you."

Annoyed, Obito crossed his arms.

"'m sorry," Kakashi apologised slurring his words and lowered his eyes to the ground.

It sounded like an empty phrase to his ears.

"Accepted. But only because Rin wanted me to! Besides, I'll teach you your lesson when we battle," he defended his pride.

Irritated, Kakashi no longer understood the world. Who had been the Kakashi of this world that Obito had pardoned him like that? Forgiveness that he didn't deserve. It was wrong of him to be allowed to be happy instead of their real Kakashi.

Imposter.

On the other hand, it was refreshing that this Obito had remained true to his personality from when he was young.

"Come on, why don't we go into the living room to talk," Kushina offered kindly.

Exhausted, Kakashi dragged himself along the few steps, which felt like he was coming back from a long, very long mission. Relieved, he let himself sink onto the sofa. Only one question was nagging at him.

"Who was I?" Kakashi wondered aloud with effort when they were in the living room.

Tiredness settled on him like a heavy blanket.

"You were very kind. Always eager to help. You looked after Naruto more times than I can count," Kushina smirked, "And you were well on your way to becoming Jonin Commander in a few years under Shikaku's mentorship."

"Jonin commander?" he repeated in surprise, "I was never in Anbu?"

Kushina shook her head.

"So you really don't remember," Obito noted absently, "What was it like over there? When you were dead?"

He stared lost in the distance.

"Death after the cross path is something you'll never forget. Pain. Unimaginable pain."

It is only in death that the face you are forbidden to show is revealed.

Pain was not even remotely an accurate word to describe this hellish agony.

"Obito, go and get Tsunade, quickly."

Pain was all that existed there. He was floating, falling. Mirrors. There it stood. The beast he had become. A thief. Kakashi looked at the thing that was his reflection.

A monster that killed you all. I did this. Me!

Like my own son, she echoed in his mind.

It tore him apart and put him back together a thousand times.

Never-ending pain.

Again and again and again.

Pain.

Again.

And again.

And again.

He blinked several times as a bright light blinded him. Tsunade looked at him grimly. The exhaustion of the last few days and nights clearly visible.

"You were out of it for a moment."

He watched her as if in a dream.

"That Yamanaka Fuu should have kept his hands out of there. But we also can't prove that he deliberately tore down Kakashi's walls," she said, addressing Minato.

He paced up and down furiously. Disorientated, Kakashi's eyes strayed around the area.

"Please follow my finger," Tsunade ordered and he followed.

Minato stopped and sighed.

"Don't worry, Kakashi. We'll get everything back to normal tomorrow, things will get better."

"I don't want it to get better," Kakashi blurted.

Puzzled, they stared at him and he went on.

"I don't want to lose them, I don't want to forget them, nor how much I loved them. There is no 'it will all get better'. Not for me. There are certain things that will never be good again or even slightly better. I'll never be your Kakashi," he whispered resignedly and weakly.

I don't want to forget them.

“We'll get you fixed up again,” Minato promised.

---

[Naruto and Minato stargazing scene]

It was a quiet night. The stars were high up in the sky and were reflected in the crystal-clear water. Not a cloud could be seen in the night sky. Naruto sat in a small boat with Minato and watched the stars.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Minato asked admiringly and Naruto could only agree.

The nearby city lights were reflected in the calm water and only the large waterfall nearby and the fireflies buzzing around made soft noises.

It was breath-taking and Naruto loved these evenings looking at the stars in the rowboat with his father. Minato slowly paddled back to the shore and helped him out of the boat. The bank was overgrown with tall grass and an old oak tree with its heavy branches brushed against the water.

"Can we come back again tomorrow?" he asked expectantly, looking at Minato with his big, pleading eyes.

"Of course we can. As often as you want," he assured him and kissed Naruto on the forehead.

Just as his father was about to get up, he gave him a long hug and Minato lovingly picked him up in his arms.

"I love you very much too," he chuckled softly.

Naruto hugged him for a few more moments before they headed back home together.

Chapter Text

It was quiet. Too quiet. The starry sky was only obscured by a few scattered clouds. The moonlight shone brightly and the first snow began to fall. It glittered in the pale light, peaceful and enchanting.

The soul of Konoha was silent and it may have been the eternal loneliness that threatened to extinguish the stars at the slightest sound. Shrouded in an angelic white veil, it seemed to be the pure splendour of a first winter's night.

Hiding everything far and wide, the horror was concealed under an illusion of peace. But just as the frost, silently floating, took over the city, dark creatures cowered in the dark corners of the walls, daring to come out of their hiding places in the cover of the night.

Not a branch, twig or even the smallest leaf moved. Only the roots pushed their way through the strongest masonry. It was a total calm, as if the frozen longing itself had settled here.

Forgotten and silent.

Lost in thought, Danzo stared out into the shadows.

"Are you still here, my old friend?" Hiruzen rasped and stopped next to his former comrade.

They silently watched the rare snow fall.

"You're up at this hour too. What are you doing here?" Danzo replied indifferently.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, just enjoying the peace.

"You look tired. What's on your mind, Danzo?" Hiruzen asked calmly.

"Both of us, Hiruzen. Do you remember back then? The time of the first great Shinobi War?" Danzo spoke steadily, "We were on a mission with Tobirama when they surrounded us. Kumo-nin from all sides. It seemed so hopeless."

Hiruzen took a long puff on his pipe.

"We were so desperate when we realised that the Golden Horn, the legendary Kinkuro forces, had surrounded us. Tobirama-sensei gave us that look and I knew it would be the last time. If any of us were to survive, someone had to sacrifice themselves."

Their gazes rested in the distance.

"What are you getting at, Danzo?"

"I had considered whether I should sacrifice myself. If I would die for you. If I was ready. But I was afraid. Afraid of death," Danzo admitted and Hiruzen gave a thoughtful nod.

"But then you volunteered. In the end, it was Tobirama himself who was the bait," Danzo fell silent for a moment, "He appointed you the next Hokage."

Hiruzen looked at his friend in puzzlement, who snorted contemptuously. The snow danced leisurely to the ground.

"If you seek redemption, then hope will guide you. Hiruzen, dear friend. The hope of saving your fallen realm from the sins of your deceptive ideas. Doesn't everything beautiful arise from the abstruse and abominable of this world?" Danzo asked, lost in thought.

Mistakes.

Hiruzen knew that he had not been a perfect Hokage, far from it. He had made so many mistakes. He had waged so much war.

"It may be true that my ideas were deceptive, but whose ideas are not?", he looked at him meaningfully, "There is neither lie nor truth. It is a construct for the sake of our conscience. But only faith allows us to live at all."

"I must confess that the Hatake incident has given me pause for thought. Where would our minds go if they were washed away by the impermanence of reality? Faith may explain the dichotomy of truth and falsehood, but something is missing to describe what gives people a sense of stability. The word. That is what brings order to the hated chaos. It is morality. Faith and morality can shape worlds and destroy them."

I will bring them the word.

"The strongest power in the universe. And everyone would think that it was unattainable. The only thing they lacked was a philosophy. Through philosophy, you can rule the world; through love, the entire universe."

"Unrestricted power can only bring you pure violence. Violence can destroy love. Violence tears down philosophies. All existence is helplessly at the mercy of violence alone. We come from a world where only the strongest survive."

"Is that what you are planning to do? To gain power through violence?"

"Violence has helped you to political power, Hiruzen. I will use violence to achieve something that you never could. I will create something."

"You're not planning to take part in the peace trials, are you?" Hiruzen asked, shaken.

"They will welcome me as their saviour.”

"Alliances never last longer than they are useful. If they get the chance, your allies will stab you in the back and burn down villages. You should know that better than anyone. But you never understood what it really means to sacrifice yourself," Hiruzen accused.

"I sacrificed everything, everything, for Konoha. Even if I'm not the fire, I'm still your shadow. The darkness of the shinobi. We both carried on the will of the fire since Tobirama's death," Danzo defended himself, "I know exactly what it means to make sacrifices. Maybe even better than you."

"This is pure madness! These people don't need a saviour. What they need is a new daimyou to give them back their structure. Thereby you rob them of their words and twist them to your own advantage once again."

"It's not what they need, Hiruzen, it's what they want. I'm not a good person. And you may act all high and mighty, but violence sticks to you like black tar. What would Tobirama think?" Danzo countered, "I have always acted in Konoha's best interests. I have always been loyal. Would you have found a better way in my place? The chances are good that you would have ended up as fodder for the worms."

"What would Tobirama-sensei think of either of us?" Hiruzen asked. "We have done so many terrible things, no power on earth could ever redeem us."

Danzo glared into the deep shadows. The cold made him shiver.

"We both grew up as children in a time of the clan wars, when the villages were not yet fully consolidated and established. The former chaos, the bloodshed. We were willing to make certain decisions for this stability, for peace, that others could never make. Just like Tobirama. These people take all this here, this village, the countries, everything, for granted, like the air they breathe. We know how fragile this peace is."

"And we have to make decisions, for better or for worse," Hiruzen defeatedly supplemented.

---

Kakashi stood on the stone heads of the Hokage and looked out over the entire valley. The fresh wind gently swayed the frozen leaves in the wind and the smell of winter hung in the air.

The first rays of the day appeared behind the mighty treetops and silently woke the birds. Life in Konoha slowly stirred in these very first hours of the morning and, still half asleep, an icy mist lay over the untouched valley. The frost-covered blossoms of the bushes and trees were already glowing in the most vivid colours and were enhanced by the gentle rays of the sun.

This was Konoha. Surrounded by an ancient forest, hidden in a mountain range. Konoha as it had been an eternity ago. Everything he had known was gone and would never return. A cool breeze blew through his hair and for a moment Kakashi closed his eyes. He enjoyed the freedom of nature, but his thoughts circled back to what lay ahead of him.

The dawn bathed the city in an intense red glow. He took in the cool morning air one last time. Enjoying his last moments of freedom. Of peace. The only thing he had left was his memory.

One last time he looked up at the rising sun and felt its warmth on his skin.

Only a flickering chakra from one of the Anbu guards gave him a warning before they teleported him back. His pulse raced. His breathing was shallow and rapid as he faced a seated Inoichi.

No.

"I hope you had a nice trip," Inoichi began, gesturing for him to sit on the interrogation chair.

Obediently, he lowered his gaze.

"We won't erase your memories," he continued, "That would only cause more chaos. You will keep them all, but you won't be able to access them. That means I will erect a barrier to suppress the memories."

"How much? How much will I be able to remember?"

"Your body is 19 years old, so we will definitely suppress everything beyond that. But you will retain your technical knowledge, such as of jutsus, fighting techniques or Kekkei Genkai, so that you remain as effective as possible."

The mouldering lights flickered. Tense, he watched as Inoichi placed the restraints around his wrists. His blood rushed in his ears. His pulse was racing. Faster and faster.

"Until that point, we will proceed selectively. I can't prevent you from probably feeling that something is different than it should be in your imagination, but you won't be able to remember the circumstances and events in a concrete and visual way. You will also be integrated into Anbu for the time being, in order to at least give your mind a little familiarity."

At that moment, the creaking massive metal door opened and Minato came in.

"Is everything prepared?" he asked, while Kakashi tensed up so much that the restraints cut into his flesh.

Inoichi nodded. Minato placed his hands gently on Kakashi's struggling shoulders, reassuring him. As he smiled trustingly at him, Kakashi felt his grip tighten and tighten. Painfully. Until he thought his bones would break any moment.

Tighter. Tighter. He held him in place.

There was no escape.

"Everything will be fine," Minato assured him in a voice as sweet as honey.

Tears welled up in his eyes and fell onto the grey, blood-stained concrete floor.

Alienation.

His iron grip forced him, forbidding any movement. Inoichi's fingers reached out to him. His pulse raced. Beads of sweat rolled down his face.

No. Please.

Hands were placed around his head.

No! It echoed in his mind in panic until he fell into nothingness.

Kakashi awoke.

---

Emptiness. Kakashi wandered aimlessly through the city. There was a yawning emptiness inside him. They had taken something important from him. Something he wanted back. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that it was important to him. A feeling of wrongness hung over him like a blade.

Falseness.

Finally, he came to a halt in front of the Uchiha district. Kakashi knocked on the ornate and imposing gates. With each knock, the muffled sound echoed. It took a moment for someone to open the gate and a bearded man stood rearing up in front of him. He was a mountain compared to his size, monstrous and frightening. The man wore an eye patch and was a single mass of muscle. At first he looked over him, until he looked down.

"Hatake Kakashi, conqueror of death," he greeted respectfully.

Kakashi nodded curtly in reply.

"The Uchiha head is already waiting for you," he escorted the snow-touched man inside and closed the gigantic gates behind him.

The streets of the district were filled with traditionally dressed, black-haired people and even in the early morning, the place was bustling with activity. The Uchiha giant led him through the bustling crowd while they eyed the white-haired stranger curiously. Their path led them down a secluded alley to the House of Secrets.

How he knew that, he couldn't say.

Someone was even playing a small, mouldy organ. But these were no ordinary people; criminals, murderers and the worst of the worst met and hid here. The stench of tobacco and drugs was in the air. The most memorable crimes were occasionally planned and discussed in this place.

After all, rule number one was that everything that happened in this house would stay inside. No one ratted on anyone or gave information outside, otherwise they would have to deal with the raw cruelty of the Uchiha head. As Kakashi walked through the room, everything went quiet. Complete silence. Everyone looked in their direction and critically observed the small figure behind the giant.

Suddenly, a scrawny man stepped in front of them and pointed his bony finger at Kakashi.

"Why is he here? He's not supposed to be here! That's a hunter-nin! Someone like him chases the likes of us!"

"Was," Kakashi corrected automatically.

"What?" the droughty man cackled menacingly.

"I was a hunter-nin. Not anymore," he explained calmly.

I think?

Enraged, the criminal staggered towards him until the giant stood defensively in front of Kakashi.

"Calm down. He's a guest like everyone else."

"But the Hokage's people are forbidden in here!" the old bony man gritted his teeth grumpily, "Get rid of the scum!"

A few people may have given a hint of agreement, but their gazes froze in one fell swoop and only a tense gulp could be heard in the room. Slowly and fearfully, the old man turned round and all he could see was a shadow growing ever larger. Fugaku strode towards him with dignity and looked him sharply in the eye.

"What did you just call my guest?" he asked with a slightly furious undertone.

"Scum?" the old man replied cautiously, now crouched down and giving Fugaku an innocent smile.

As if that could somehow save him. It wasn't long before the old man was dragged away by his guards. The worst thing was not the punishment, but the banishment. Because in the Uchiha district they were under the protection of the leader of the Konoha Military Police Force and they were untouchables, but on the streets outside they were fair game for anyone. And there was a hefty bounty on the head of anyone who sought shelter in this establishment. Dead or alive.

Fugaku led him through the bar and rooms full of prostitutes to a quieter area where people counted their money and made deals. Behind black curtains, a private area finally opened up, where Mikoto was already waiting gracefully, with Itachi at her side. Fugaku motioned for Kakashi to sit down while he went to the fireplace himself.

He sat down quietly opposite Mikoto, who watched him sternly. The clan leader ignored him and placed some firewood on the fire, which he lit with a simple jutsu. Fugaku stared intently into the flickering fire for a few seconds before rising and turning to face him.

"May I welcome you to our humble establishment," Fugaku greeted him dryly.

"The pleasure is all mine, Uchiha-sama," Kakashi replied.

"I have heard that you have supposed knowledge of the Sharingan," Mikoto interjected, "No one outside of our clan is allowed to possess such knowledge."

"I see."

"In your mind, I saw that you possessed a dual Sharingan. We were told that you stole one from your friend Obito. You're not a prodigal Uchiha bastard, are you?" Fugaku interrogated him harshly.

"I... had the Sharingan," he tried to remember and covered his blind eye, lost in thought, "But only one... I'm not an Uchiha, I'm a Hatake. But I didn't steal."

They eyed him doubtfully until Mikoto questioned him further.

"Did you have all of Tomoe from the start?"

Kakashi shook his head slowly.

"But it didn't take long. I think I had the Mangekyou Sharingan quite soon."

Fugaku nodded and motioned for him to continue speaking, prompting Kakashi to share his general knowledge.

"The special ability was Kamui. We could teleport people or objects into something like a pocket dimension. With the Mangekyou, it's possible to create Amaterasu. Fire as hot as the sun and as black as the night. I know that it can further transform into a Rinnegan and Susanoo is only possible with two Sharingan eyes."

"So you're quite familiar with our Kekkei Genkai," Fugaku stated, "Have you ever heard of Izanagi and Izanami?"

Mikoto tensed and Itachi's eyes fixed on him sharply. Hesitantly, Kakashi nodded.

"Let's assume that you had a Sharingan," Mikoto began instead of her husband, "They say that you can shape reality with it. Even death is said to become a mere illusion. The only drawback is that you go blind."

She pointed at his unseeing eye and Kakashi's breathing stopped.

"I swear, I-"

"It doesn't matter anymore. Many Uchiha aspire to that power and even more believe that you have achieved it. They see your blind eye as proof. You give them hope," Mikoto explained, visibly worried.

"That could lead to unrest and riots," Fugaku added darkly, "There is the threat of a coup d'etat not only for Konoha, but also within the Uchiha clan directed against us."

His eyes reflected the blazing flames and a fire of his own seemed to distort him from the inside out. The fire crackled and cast a reddish light through the room, through which the deep shadows could be seen, hungrily waiting for their next prey. Deep black and as swift as doom.

Kakashi stared into the fire.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Tension hung in the air.

"We can't let you confirm this rumour in any way," Mikoto spoke quietly, "But if we were to kill you now, it would inflame tempers and we would be committing treason against our Hokage. I hope you understand our dilemma, that we can neither eliminate you nor let you go just like that."

Fugaku placed his hands on his wife's shoulders.

"We also can't allow a non-Uchiha to have knowledge of clan secrets to such an extent," he added, "You may be loyal to Konohagakure, but not to the Uchiha clan. Even Minato couldn't give us the security we need for that."

The fire blazed wildly.

"There's only so much I can give you," Kakashi sighed.

An uneasy silence followed and the Uchiha leader looked meaningfully at Mikoto, who nodded at him confidently.

"We Uchiha not only have our blood ties and our clan pride. We feel intensely and respect deeply. We follow those who give us hope and are capable of protecting us. And we must ensure at all costs that you do not become the trigger that splits the Uchiha clan in two and overthrows the main family. Mikoto and I... have thought long and carefully about how we can achieve this without bloodshed."

"You got what you wanted," Kakashi said grimly and stood up, "These are political issues which are none of my business. I will not be subjected to another mind jutsu, binding seal or anything else."

The young Itachi drew his tanto, but Fugaku called him to a halt and Mikoto stood up as well. She approached him slowly, frowning.

"Mikoto," Fugaku warned, but she paid him no attention.

"If the Uchiha fall, you will be held responsible. It would be you who instigated our deaths. You, who awakened hope and hunger for power in them. And what would the Hokage do if you had betrayed a loyal Konoha clan?"

"Mikoto!" he shouted upset.

Kakashi glared at her angrily.

"I belong to Konoha alone. You can't do anything without the Hokage's approval. And if I end up being sentenced to death, so be it."

"I won't apologise for my wife, always a shinobi at heart. I wanted to make you a suggestion that does not undermine anyone's authority or force them into involuntary subservience. There is a special ritual called Musubinokami, which is not used very often," Fugaku explained and Kakashi raised an eyebrow, "It would formally bind you to a member of the main family to end any opposition. It would also prevent our clan secrets from leaking outside. And as you know, this matter is the sole responsibility of the clan leaders and not the Hokage."

Kakashi took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before his features relaxed.

"Regarding the protection of your secrets, I will perform the ritual," Kakashi stated, and gestured with his hand, "And I am generally willing to support you against a coup d'etat, as long as no mind-forcing jutsus or the like become necessary."
"What would be the implications of such a formal affiliation among the Uchiha?" he further asked.

"Musubinokami is an expression of a close bond that symbolises support and trust. A great honour. It is not normally entered into lightly with strangers, as it means sharing everything, including clan secrets, which is not a problem with you. You would be considered a full member of the main family."

"I would keep my status as Hatake clan head?"

Fugaku nodded curtly.

"In that case, won't it also lead to questions about your succession? I'm older than Itachi and Sasuke. Wouldn't it lead to issues if your rightful heir could be doubted?" Kakashi asked sceptically.

"If such questions arise, we will think of a possible solution. First, it is important to show that you are not a symbol against us, but with us."

The flames licked hungrily upwards, causing the shadows to leap ominously back and forth. Fugaku and Mikoto waited expectantly for his answer until Kakashi nodded and Fugaku exhaled in relief.

"I consent, if that is what you wish for."

When Fugaku and Itachi had led him out of the establishment again, Kakashi was surprised to see Danzo awaiting them there.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Kakashi thanked him formally with a short bow, "thank you."

"It was an honour to have you visit us. Actually, I'm the one who should be thanking you."

Fugaku bowed his head curtly as a sign of his gratitude and Itachi did the same. Just as Fugaku and Itachi had said their goodbyes and were about to leave, Danzo stepped forward.

"With your permission, Fugaku, if I could speak to your son Itachi for a moment."

"What business do you have with my son?"

"I wanted to escort Kakashi to his first evaluation of the ninja arts. As the future head of the Uchiha, it would only be in his best interest to witness and learn from such a procedure."

Fugaku thought for a moment and gave a nod of approval.

"If I may. Itachi," he bid his son farewell and made his way back into the house of secrets.

"Danzo-sama," Itachi greeted him reverently.

Chapter Text

Itachi obediently took his place beside Danzo, who was draped in a grey kimono. Under the fading light of the hidden sun, he almost seamlessly blended in with the dreary surroundings. Kakashi observed the two of them and an uneasy feeling crept into his thoughts, deep and gnawing. This familiarity between them felt wrong. So wrong that it threatened to shake his sense of reality.

"I wasn't aware that my Ninjutsu evaluation had been scheduled so soon," Kakashi remarked after Fugaku had retreated into the House of Secrets.

His voice sounded distant in his ears, as if it came from another reality. His words were sharp and cold, yet he felt like a stranger in his own body.

Danzo’s lips curled into a sarcastic smile, barely noticeable, as they strolled leisurely through the bustling Uchiha district.

"Weren't you?"

Kakashi remained silent, fixing his gaze on the cloud-covered sky. His vision blurred, the colours around him fading, and the sounds of the Uchiha district merged into an incomprehensible murmur. The heavy banners of clouds, laden with fine snow crystals, swallowed the last light of the dying sun. And so, the glimmer of the freshly fallen snow and the first frost vanished as darkness crept in.

"Minato-sensei must have missed that," he murmured grimly, the words foreign on his tongue.

Empty like a shell floating through the air without substance.

Distorted like something that didn't belong to him.

Danzo suddenly paused, halting his steps. The other two stopped as well, patiently waiting for his next words. Itachi, ever dutiful, took his place by Danzo’s side as they slowly resumed their walk. But Kakashi could not shake off the oppressive feeling of unease. The world seemed to have frozen for a fleeting moment, as if time had stopped flowing.

The silence full of unspoken truths and looming dangers.

They passed stalls with magnificent fabrics, exotic food and elaborate handicrafts. Kakashi's gaze wandered curiously over the goods, which were usually hidden from the eyes of outsiders. He blinked in confusion. Colours, scents, sounds. Too vivid, too alive and yet at the same time like a distant dream.

The Uchiha members respectfully bowed to Itachi before returning to their bustle. Pale reflections of people Kakashi knew but did not recognise.

This isn’t real.

"I’d like to speak openly, Kakashi," Danzo began in a calm tone, "I’m not sure what you have already been told in your... situation."

Kakashi nodded briefly in understanding. Mechanically. Itachi listened attentively, but he too was just a figure that faded in and out of Kakashi’s perception. Fragile.

Alienated.

"I was on an Anbu mission where I was severely injured. Since then… something's wrong with my head. Medical details are confidential."

Ever since his discharge from the Anbu hospital, his voice had sounded like an echo in his mind, something that didn’t belong to him.

What’s wrong with me?

Itachi’s eyes widened briefly at his words, a fleeting reaction that did not escape Kakashi’s notice. As if they knew more than they were revealing. As if they had something to hide. A dark suspicion crept into his thoughts, a falsehood so deep it threatened to corrode his soul. But his thoughts seemed to slip away like water through his fingers. Tense, he pressed his lips together under his mask.

"You don’t trust Minato," Danzo stated unwaveringly.

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at Danzo. His mind split in two. A part of him wanted to understand the words, but another part seemed to be losing itself in a darkness that grew thicker with every passing second.

"One more word and I’ll cut out your tongue," he hissed sharply.

Distorted.

Minato-sensei was undoubtedly a good person with the best intentions, but his decisions as Hokage… were not without flaw. This realization lay like a foreign weight on his shoulders. They passed by the well-guarded Naka Shrine, which cast a wide shadow over them. The leaves of the giant ginkgo trees rustled softly in the cool wind.

"Danzo-sama, where exactly will Hatake-san’s evaluation of his ninja skills take place?"

Itachi’s childlike curiosity pierced the suffocating atmosphere.

"Hatake will be tested at Kikyo Castle," Danzo explained as they approached the imposing gate of the district.

It glittered slightly in the dim light, covered by a thin layer of frost, while the birds chirped quietly in the treetops. Unreal like a veil. At Itachi’s questioning glance, Danzo continued.

"Unlike the Chunin Exams, this is not just about mastery of jutsu and chakra. What distinguishes Jonin, Anbu, and Arunin from others is their Will of Fire, their willingness to make sacrifices. That is what makes a good shinobi. Remember that, Uchiha."

Itachi nodded energetically, his eyes shining with determined resolve. A cold gust of wind blew gently through his hair as they entered the paths and streets of inner Konoha.

"I’ll do my best," promised Itachi, but his face seemed like a distorted mask to Kakashi.

Anger simmered within him, though he could not explain exactly why. Whether it was because of Danzo's smug grin, Itachi's naive willingness or perhaps his own ignorance and the gnawing doubts that pricked his neck like sharp needles. He straightened his back and stared at Danzo with a scowl. The feeling of disorientation ever-present.

"Whether you are a good shinobi or not does not depend on others’ opinions, Itachi-kun," Kakashi said firmly. "That’s for you to decide."

Danzo laughed weakly into the encroaching winter cold, leaving white puffs in the air. A cold, mocking silence in his voice.

"You have no idea, Kakashi. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed a sense of morality since your arrival."

For a moment, Kakashi let the words hang in the air before answering calmly.

"Morality? We are merely tools, nothing more. We are created to execute orders without question. Our duty is to complete missions, regardless of the consequences. Morality is a burden that only prevents us from fulfilling our duties."

He paused briefly, meeting Danzo’s eyes, his voice levelled and composed as the green leaves and delicate buds swayed in the wind.

"A ninja with morality is weak. He hesitates, he doubts. Doubt leads to mistakes, and mistakes mean death. Not just for the ninja himself but for those he has sworn to protect. It doesn’t matter what others think of your shinobi skills, only that you complete your mission and survive. We exist to do what is necessary."

Kakashi leaned back, his gaze remaining hard, but with a certain heaviness in his words as the frosty wind howled around them. He heard himself speaking, but far away, cut off from his thoughts.

"At the end of the day, we are tools that carry out the will of others. Morality is a luxury we cannot afford."

The familiar cold pierced not only his skin but did not really touch him. Not as it should. Ahead of them, a dark path full of shadows, just waiting to be brought to light.

The snow lay peacefully like a shroud over the roofs and paths of Konoha, as if it wanted to bury the dark secrets of the village under an innocent blanket. Each step Kakashi and Danzo took broke the silence, the crunch of the sparkling crystals sounding like a quiet warning. They turned into a narrow alleyway where the winter chill mingled with the decay of the old walls.

"He didn’t tell you the whole truth," Danzo suddenly dared to break the silence, his voice a blade of ice.

Kakashi reacted instinctively. Before Danzo could finish the sentence, he had him pressed against the cold wall of a house. His kunai, which he was not supposed to have with him, flickered lightning-fast out of nowhere towards Danzo’s mouth.

Where did it come from? He didn't know, but it felt right, and yet not. But before the blade could touch flesh, Itachi's tanto flashed, blocking the kunai with a metallic clang.

Danzo's grin twisted as blood dripped from his cut lip, falling onto the pristine snow. Staining its purity. Kakashi's rigid stare lingered on Itachi for a long time, his head tilting as Itachi stared back, unmoving. With those unfathomable, dark eyes that no child should have.

The Mangekyou Sharingan.

A power Itachi should not yet have.

Red. As deep as the pile of souls that clung to Itachi’s soul. Celestial eyes that could see beneath the surface of creation without any clouding, but at a price so high that it demanded a part of himself.

A power that bought the vision of a god at the cost of humanity.

Like an ill-omened blood moon, its light plunged Kakashi into an illusion of a world full of pain. But he was not consumed by the expected torment, no agony of a thousand stabs, merely a distorted reflection of reality.

"I see, so Itachi is already lost," Kakashi commented icily within the Genjutsu, while Itachi’s lifeless gaze pierced him.

Deadly, while time stood still and the falling snowflakes froze in the air, in a moment that would never end.

"Now we can truly speak openly," Danzo said with folded arms as if nothing had happened, indifferent, "Your Hokage is hiding things from you."

Untouchable.

"As a Hokage should," Kakashi replied with iron resolve, but the doubts Danzo had sown were already gnawing at him.

Slowly, Danzo shook his head, disappointment in his eyes.

"No. He wanted to mould you into his image. To erase you. You were never meant to be here. Your beloved Minato only made things worse. When you arrived, I sensed a darkness of sorrow in you, Kakashi. But now? What remains without all the pain, the sorrow, the abyss that reminds you of your humanity? Now there is nothing left but a vessel of pure, cold cruelty."

Danzo’s words echoed in the darkness, a poison that seeped into Kakashi’s mind.

“He wanted you gone, Kakashi. He banished you. What Minato wanted… is to sacrifice you.”

Questions raced through his mind and Kakashi was about to open his mouth when Danzo raised his hand, silencing him.

"We could achieve greatness if you join my Anbu division. I could tell you the truth that Minato kept from you."

Liar. The thought shot through Kakashi's head, though he wasn’t sure if he had thought it himself or if it was just a voice inside him whispering.

"I will consider your offer, but I remain loyal to Konohagakure," his emotionless voice cut through the silence.

Danzo was about to reply when Itachi's genjutsu suddenly collapsed. They were still standing in the small alley they had turned into. The sky was darkened by the clouds and only a single lamp cast a dim light on the mouldy surroundings, where winter’s breath glistened softly. The ground was wet from the melted snow and small moths gathered around the warm light.

A drunken civilian stumbled behind them through the deserted alley, his breath a mist in the cold air. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed them, surprised, his glassy eyes narrowing in irritation as he sized them up. Seemingly unable to recognize them through his alcohol-induced haze.

"Hey, get lost! This is my alley!" he slurred, staggering and stumbling.

But none of them paid him any mind. Their eyes were fixed on the rooftops. Kakashi could feel them clearly, and evidently, so could Danzo and Itachi, who slowly prepared themselves for battle. Dark figures stood imposingly on the snow-covered rooftops around them. They merged with the shadows and materialized themselves, encircling the three.

The drunkard's eyes widened as he recognized who was pursuing them. He stumbled backward in panic, trying to escape the alley as quickly as possible.

Slowly, without making any sudden movements, Danzo turned to face the figures, his hands visibly raised and looked them in the eyes. Itachi calmly raised his tanto and watched every single movement of their attackers with his sky eyes.

Two women with drawn swords stepped out of the shadows, followed by three more shinobi. But these did not move, they merely stood still behind the kunoichi, who approached them menacingly. Kakashi readied himself for the first strike, but the kunoichi stopped, fear etched on their faces.

Behind Kakashi, another shinobi emerged from the darkness. The air was thick with the anticipation of battle, but instead of striking, the kunoichi submissively stepped back as the rogue ninja walked past them without so much as a glance. The hostility in the air gave way to a tense silence.

What is happening? Why are the Anbu guards not here?

Confusion clouded Kakashi's thoughts, and for a moment, Itachi lowered his guard, as if he too was unsure of what was real and what was not.

"Kimu," the rogue ninja greeted one of the shinobi behind the retreating kunoichi with a calm, threatening voice.

"My lord," the man replied with reverence, while Kakashi watched the scene warily.

"En Oyashiro wishes to speak with you and please convey my best wishes to Konan."

It was not a request, but a command, which his officer Kimu obeyed without question. Without another word, he vanished into the shadows as if he had never been there.

The rogue ninja gave the kunoichi a hand signal, whereupon they reluctantly sheathed their swords. Then, he turned to Kakashi, Danzo, and Itachi, a cold smile playing on his lips. As frosty as the winter air around them.

"I must apologize for the rudeness of my companions. It seems they’ve forgotten all manners. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Menma."

"How did you infiltrate Konoha?" Danzo ground out harshly, never taking his eyes off them.

Menma offered him a tired smile, as if the question bored him. A lock of his slicked-back black hair fell forward, shading his face. Something about him reminded Kakashi of Naruto, and the resemblance only deepened the uneasy feeling within him. Ignoring Danzo, Menma strode directly towards Kakashi.

"We have business with Hatake."

One of the shinobi stepped forward and carefully handed him a letter. Kakashi took it, his grip tight on the kunai, his expression unreadable.

"What kind of business?" Danzo continued to demand gruffly, ordering Itachi to get Root reinforcements.

The once friendly look in Menma’s eyes faded, replaced by a dangerous, predatory gaze that barely restrained the urge to devour his chosen prey.

"That concerns only Hatake," Menma replied darkly, his eyes flashing dangerously at Danzo.

The kunoichi drew their swords again, ready to strike, but Menma reluctantly held them back with a wave of his hand.

"Fascinating. Truly," Danzo commented, visibly unimpressed, though his tone betrayed the seriousness of the threat, "But I don’t think I can tolerate intruders in Konoha."

Menma didn’t move a muscle when dozens of Root ninjas suddenly appeared. Bored, he turned his head slightly to Danzo.

"Orochimaru sends his regards. So please, call off your little pets," Menma threatened, flashing a smile, showing his teeth.

Diplomatically, Kakashi stepped forward, drawing another kunai with a metallic ring. Menma clicked his tongue and playfully stepped back, wagging his finger in warning.

"Now, now, Kakashi. I know your mission didn’t go as planned, but somehow you’re still alive. Your pact with Orochimaru is still in effect, and you have upheld your end of the bargain, which means our master owes you a favour. He has already made all the arrangements for your objective. You just have to give the signal."

Kakashi felt as if he were falling into an abyss. He had to treat this like a mission. Show nothing. He nodded suspiciously, while Danzo eyed him with a pale, fearful expression, his cut lip still bleeding.

What had he done that he could no longer remember? Making a pact with Orochimaru was tantamount to treason. A betrayal of Konoha and the Will of Fire itself. The greatest disgrace for any Leaf ninja.

A void yawned within him as he tried to recall the details that slipped away like shadows.

Why didn’t he remember anything? Am I really myself? And Danzo has made a deal with Orochimaru himself.

That meant they were now in the same boat. His thoughts spiralled endlessly, but his voice remained firm and resolute.

"Orochimaru is as efficient as ever. Have him send me all the information he has gathered. I want to meet him personally. He can inform me of the time and place."

Menma bowed his head respectfully, his expression serious.

"Of course, personally. As expected. I will relay your answer to my master."

Without another word, he turned and motioned to his shinobi to follow him. With a dark glance at Danzo, he silently disappeared into the shadows. Once he was gone, the tension in the alley broke and Danzo grabbed Kakashi roughly by the shoulders.

"What the hell have you done?!" he hissed furiously before regaining his composure and rubbing his forehead with a sigh, "Not that you would have the slightest clue about anything. Minato has successfully made you utterly useless."

Kakashi stared at him with an unreadable expression until Danzo finally let him go. Agitated, Danzo paced back and forth before sharply pointing at a Root member, issuing orders one by one.

"You will follow these rogue-nin immediately. And you will find out what happened to the Anbu guard and ensure that no one learns of this incident. I want all information on Hatake

Kakashi. What he did related to his mission, where he was, who he met with. Everything! Place spies on Orochimaru and find out where he is, how much he knows. Erase all traces."

One Root team after another vanished quietly until Itachi approached them once more.

"I have information that Kushina and a selected team will depart for Uzushiogakure tomorrow morning."

"Send Kinoe to me later."

Kakashi's ears pricked up at this, the name vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place it. Danzo's contemplative gaze lingered on Kakashi, as if he were his impending death.

"Danzo," Kakashi finally said, his voice calm, "You betrayed your Hokage. You delivered Konoha into the hands of its enemies."

His words hung heavy in the frosty air. Everything seemed a little too far away, as if it didn't really belong to him.

"But it seems that I too carry the guilt of treachery," he continued, the words tasting like ash, "It is inevitable that we now work together, as it seems. But I will not become a Root member. It is true that I do not trust Minato. He appears to have made decisions that endanger Konoha, and we need to rectify them."

Itachi listened attentively, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the alley.

"Make me your partner," Kakashi demanded, his voice controlled, but the darkness in his words was unmistakable.

Shocked, Danzo paused.

"Isn’t that what you wanted?" Kakashi asked emotionlessly, tilting his head predatorily.

Danzo pondered, doubt gnawing at him. He neither knew Kakashi’s motives nor what he was capable of. But the darkness emanating from Kakashi was undeniable. He had risen like a demon from the depths of the Yomi¹. Root would grant Kakashi more power than it seemed.

Inevitability.

"You carry more darkness within you than I expected," Danzo finally rasped, his voice brittle as if he had just opened Pandora’s box.

Perhaps too much.

The wind howled softly through the streets of Konoha as the shinobi gathered. Both knew what was at stake if their secret ever got out. And both knew there was no turning back.

Each lost in their own thoughts, the Shinobi walked beside each other. The snowfall intensified once again, its dancing flakes forming a dense curtain that enveloped the world around them in a quiet, white infinity. Purposeful yet inconspicuous, they made their way through the snow-covered village. Their footsteps barely audible.

In the dense, shallow fog, the imposing silhouette of Kikyo Castle loomed, majestically overlooking the snowy landscape. Its many curved roofs and countless turrets stretched toward the grey sky. Its walls as pure as the snow itself. Even in the snowstorm, its massive presence was unmistakable. In this silent winter landscape, the castle was a relic of times gone by, a place where life and death were intertwined.

As they gradually approached the stone walls, Danzo led them to a side entrance. A creaking, inconspicuous door, almost invisible within the ancient masonry. Danzo knocked three times firmly. The three muffled sounds echoed heavily through the empty corridors deep within the castle. Quietly, a Priest of Fire dressed in robes resembling the blood-red autumn leaves opened the door, and they quickly slipped unnoticed into the well-secured fortress.

Inside, several attendants were already waiting, dressed in simple, dark garments. They silently guided the group through narrow, hidden paths. Their footsteps echoed softly on the nightingale floors², which transformed even the most cautious step into a faint chirping sound. There was a hushed silence, occasionally interrupted only by the faint rustling of their clothing or the distant sound of the wind. The narrow and winding corridors felt like the interior of a vast labyrinth.

A presence in the walls, as if the Kami themselves resided here.

The intricate passageways were lined with artfully carved totems and statues.

Passing by abandoned stables, where the scent of hay and old leather still lingered, prayer rooms filled only with the faint murmurs of long-silent prayers, and armouries where sharpened blades, relics of long-forgotten wars, and ancient scrolls lay, they were led deeper into the heart of the castle. Hidden secret passages and ever-present crossroads stretched through the structure like the tangled veins of a giant organism.

Finally, they reached a secluded room, isolated and quiet, its heavy door opening under the hands of the attendants. Kakashi had to enter alone. The atmosphere here was denser, almost oppressive. Purifying Shimenawa ropes and Shide paper streamers hung on the walls, meant to ward off evil spirits. A Kamidana, a small sacred shrine, sat in the centre of the wall, filling the room with a reverent silence.

The High Priest, clad in a flawless white Shozoku³ in the reiso style⁴, bowed deeply before Kakashi, who respectfully returned the gesture.

“This ceremony holds special significance here. The fire within you must burn brighter than ever before,” the priest explained in a calm voice. “We will provide you with ritual clothing and prepare you spiritually.”

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, which seemed like ghostly warriors, as Kakashi approached the Kamidana. Every step, every movement seemed imbued with tangible meaning, as if the room itself sensed his presence. Outside, the snow continued to fall relentlessly in thick flakes, but inside, time seemed to stand still, as if this moment would last for eternity.

“It is more than a simple trial,” the priest continued, “It is about the harmony of the five pillars – posture, gesture, breath control, immersion, and awareness.”

Fragrant smoke from pine and paper mulberry branches filled the room. The atmosphere became heavier. More concentrated.

“We will now begin the spiritual cleansing of your Will of Fire,” he said, looking at Kakashi expectantly.

He nodded, ready. The priest swung a Haragushi⁵ made of Sakaki⁶ over Kakashi, his movements slow and rhythmic. At the end of each swing, the priest let the Shide streamers rustle gently, a soothing sound that filled the silence of the room. Apart from that, absolute silence was maintained.

Lost in thought, Kakashi looked out of the window at the now snow-white landscape. The icy wind relentlessly battered the panes as the shimmering ice crystals swirled in an endless, deadly dance.

Perfect tranquillity.

The ritual ended with the sound of a bell, followed by soft prayers and the Furitama, the shaking of the soul. Kakashi took a deep breath as the priest scattered purifying salt, counting to nine and shouting yei to expel the impurities of the senses and the mind. Finally, he underwent a Musogi⁷.

Afterwards, the attendants respectfully handed him a black Shinobi Shozoku, which he donned with dignity.

They then led him to the stables, where a magnificent, black-gloss mare with a gold-edged bridle and saddle awaited him. For Danzo, who was accompanying him, a grey stallion was prepared. The horses’ breath rose in fine clouds. Danzo tightened the reins and cast a brief glance at Kakashi, who was already mounting his mare.

“Itachi has already gone ahead,” Danzo began in a rough voice. “He will ensure that no surprises await us. If there’s one thing the boy is good at, it is killing.”

“Itachi is highly efficient and wastes no time,” Kakashi commented, more to himself than to Danzo.

It seemed as if every honest emotion, every true thought Kakashi had once kept for himself, had been suffocated by the coldness of falsehood. The weight of the illusions and lies pressed down on him, and he found himself lost in a sea of shadows that had once darkened the light of his world.

“Let’s go.”

With a gentle press of his heels, he urged his mare forward, riding out into the freezing cold alongside Danzo.

Chapter Text

Dignified, Kakashi and Danzo rode through the fierce and relentless snowfall that fell heavily upon them. The path ahead, leading to Training Ground 32, seemed like a harbinger of doom, brewing in the air. The wide square, not far from the awe-inspiring Kikyo Castle, was covered with a thin, icy layer that crunched under every step of their horses, as if the land itself were warning of the coming storm. The cobblestones beneath them shimmered in the gloomy daylight like a web of black, treacherously deep ice, threatening to swallow everything it touched.

Around the square, the Torii¹ stood tall, their forms shrouded in a thick mist. No sound pierced the eerie silence. No ray of sunlight reached them.

Only the yawning abyss of despair lay before them.

On this mirror stage, Obito and Shikaku were already waiting, their shadows faint outlines in the mist. Majestic were their silhouettes as they stepped across the delicate, melted surface of the water, halting in the centre. Three deep bell tones rang out, powerful and penetrating. As if they were the heartbeat of the world itself. And their echo lingered long, like a last dying breath.

Obito murmured an Uchiha prayer as he knelt and placed his hand on the cold, icy stone. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, but the dead silence was broken by the steady sound of hoofbeats.

Like an omen of the chaos that was brewing.

When Obito looked up, he saw Kakashi and Danzo approaching on their magnificent horses. Kakashi dressed in deep black, cloaked in darkness itself. Danzo in muted grey, like the ashes of past wars. The horses moved with heads held high, while the water’s surface reflected their forms so clearly it seemed as if two perfect worlds were colliding.

Deceptive.

At the edge of the sacred square, Kakashi spotted Minato, who, despite his cool composure, radiated a palpable tension as he fixed his gaze on Danzo. A quiet murmur passed through the ranks of the gathered clan leaders, confidants and elders, who nervously wrapped themselves in their warming cloaks. Itachi also stood apart, his eyes ever watchful and sharp, his posture unwavering.

Around them, in the shadows of Kikyo Castle and into the deep expanse of the training grounds, several dozen Anbu teams were gathered. The air was heavy with old clan hostilities, waiting to be unleashed by the mistake of the other.

Slowly, Obito rose, each of his movements marked by self-control. When his gaze fell on Danzo, his eyes glowed with unspoken hostility and a hint of confusion flickered across his face when he saw Kakashi. But his expression quickly hardened again as memories of the deep scars Danzo had left in his life resurfaced.

"Kakashi," Obito greeted him, his voice tinged with confusion, while Minato emerged from the shadows of the Torii and slowly approached them.

"And Danzo," he added reluctantly, the words like poisonous ash on his tongue.

Danzo raised an eyebrow, but his eyes showed no recognition. Only indifference. To him, they were all the same. Mere pawns in a far larger, ruthless game. Gracefully, Kakashi dismounted from his gleaming mare, his shinobi shozoku adorned with sparkling snow crystals.

"Uchiha-san. Nara-san," Kakashi greeted the two of them overly formally.

Yet for him, it felt as if he hadn't seen Obito in a lifetime. Within him, memories of the cruel time in Anbu, which had separated them, boiled. A time when they were all no more than ghosts of a long-past era, which he now had to face.

And for just a tiny moment, he could have sworn that Obito stood before him with a half-torn side and eyes full of madness and hatred. But it passed so quickly that Kakashi paid it no further mind.

"Uchiha-san?" Obito repeated bitterly as he looked at Minato with disappointment.

Minato reached them with a small priestess by his side, dressed in white and fiery red robes that mirrored his own attire.

"I now ask all those not involved to step back," Minato commanded with practiced iciness, brooking no dissent.

Danzo’s gaze shifted over to the elders at the edge of the square, his hesitation barely noticeable, but a second too long.

"You have no place here, Danzo. We might crush you by accident," Obito warned with a dangerous undertone.

Danzo merely snorted contemptuously before dismounting grimly and leading his horse to the edge of the square. Kakashi's black robes were now covered with countless ice crystals that sparkled like frozen stars in the pale light, while the loose strips of fabric caressed him playfully in the light wind.

Tensely, Shikaku leaned forward in greeting, his voice muted so that only Kakashi could hear his words.

"I’m glad to see you well, Kakashi," said the Jonin Commander, his eyes gleaming at seeing his former Kohai again.

"But I wholeheartedly advise you to stay away from Danzo," Shikaku whispered earnestly, bowing his torso respectfully forward.

Kakashi returned Shikaku's gesture with a blank stare.

"Nara-san, I thank you for your well-meant words. I will bear them in mind."

But it was hardly Danzo they should be wary of. His soul thirsted for fresh blood and an endless darkness had settled like a stone in his chest.

Danzo? Danzo would be nothing more than another insignificant stain on his hands until he had served his purpose for his plan.

While Kakashi bowed deeply before the others as well, as a sign of respect, Minato and the priestess remained unmoved, like figures standing beyond the mortal world.

Minato’s voice cut through the tense silence.

"Before we begin, there are a few things you need to keep in mind," he began, his gaze fixed firmly on Kakashi, "This is not a simple trial. Hatake-san's Sunfire of Ninjutsu will face the Moonshades of Uchiha-san and Nara-san. For this ritual to proceed properly, Hatake-san's chakra suppression seal will be temporarily lifted."

His voice sank to a dangerous whisper.

"There are neither winners nor losers. What matters is the harmony of the five pillars of the inner fire," he said, his eyes lowering to the ground, "The fight ends with the last blood. No jutsu hand signs. No repetitive words. Only the fire in your souls and the blades in your hands."

The angelic high priestess stepped forward, her movements accompanied by an eerie elegance. Her eyes, deep like endless abysses, sparkled prophetically.

"Your fate has long been sealed," she spoke softly, her voice like the wind blowing through abandoned ruins, "But the fire will lead you to a crossroads. The dead are to be mourned and when the bell strikes the full hour, your trial begins before the eyes of the ancient god. He will judge and nothing will escape him. Be warned."

The moment Minato placed his hand on Kakashi's shoulder and began to channel chakra into the seal, Kakashi faced his downfall. As if thousands of lightning bolts were raging through his veins, the vision paralysed his limbs. A battlefield covered with corpses. His hands drenched in blood. In his blind eye, a scarlet moon rising. As quickly as it came, it vanished, but the aftertaste lingered, settling darkly in his thoughts.

The seal released with a sharp snap, which it should not have done, causing Kakashi to wince in pain. Minato stared in disbelief at his hand and, full of remorse, took a few steps back as the edges of Kakashi's vision flickered black. Gasping, he fought for breath and took a few deep breaths, leaning on his knees as he waited for his Yin-Yang flow to normalise.

All eyes stared at him.

"May the fire break or forge you," the priestess murmured with ominous gentleness before stepping back and closing her eyes.

Immersed in a prayer of death.

The fighters took their positions, the ground beneath them reflecting their tense faces. Sacred attendants handed them their weapons. While Shikaku had chosen a long spear, Obito and Kakashi stood facing each other with two long, sharpened ninjatō.

A promise of the bloodshed to come.

The clan leaders, their confidants and the elders also paused, as only the icy wind whistled around the Torii.

Obito took a deep breath and closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. The first bell toll resounded for a long time in the lingering silence and made Minato involuntarily rub his hands together to ward off the bitter cold that settled in.

When the bell finally struck twelve, when the first ritual had begun, to nearly everyone's surprise, two fully developed, deadly Sharingan eyes opened. Not the gentle, kind eyes that Kakashi knew, and yet this gaze was so familiar to him. Filled with an unbridled hatred. A deeply buried fire of vengeance, born from years of envy and disappointment. Fuelled by what Kakashi had done to Rin.

Disappointment of the team. Disappointment of the clan. Disappointment of everyone.

Always in his shadow, never good enough.

"Kakashi," he spoke, "I promised you I'd teach you a lesson when we fight."

Traitor.

The camaraderie that once existed between them had now become a dark shadow that filled the space between them. Beginning to sacrifice himself for those he loved most, Obito had risked despising those for whom he had given everything for. Himself. Shikaku’s melancholic gaze also changed, becoming hard and determined, as if he had made an irreversible decision at that moment.

Slowly, the fog began to close in as Shikaku and Obito approached Kakashi from opposite sides, their steps deliberate, like predators circling their prey. Tension hung in the air like the crackle of an impending storm. Each breath seemed louder than the last as the distance between them grew smaller and smaller.

Step by step, they felt their way around each other.

And the gods watched.

Without warning, Kakashi lunged at Shikaku, his movements precise and lethal. But every strike he made echoed back at him. Twice, thrice, as if time and space themselves were working against him. Obito mirrored the Jonin Commander's movements with the precision of a shadow and Kakashi found himself caught in the midst of a perfectly executed shadow dance, a deadly art nearly impossible to break through.

Every strike, every slash from Shikaku was delayed but mercilessly repeated by Obito. It was as if Kakashi were fighting against the relentless waves of a stormy ocean, always in danger of being pulled under.

Kakashi silently amplified his chakra until it pulsed through every fibre of his being, illuminating him from within as he wielded his ninjatō with absolute precision. The red cloth with which Shikaku held the spear wrapped around his hand fluttered as his blade sliced through the gently falling snow crystals. His movements were as graceful as in a Nihon Buyō².

Kakashi dodged with equal skill, although Shikaku’s blade severed a strand of his hair, which silently slid to the snow-covered ground. While Shikaku’s movements were artful, Kakashi struck endlessly with an unyielding ruthlessness.

Without hesitation, Obito swung his ninjatō horizontally, aiming for Kakashi's throat, but Kakashi evaded the blow with a flicker of the Leaf Body Flicker technique. Leaving a thin cut on his cheek. Blood dripped down slowly, a dark contrast against the snow-white surroundings.

Obito’s Sharingan glowed, his sharp eyes piercing through Kakashi, who avoided looking directly at him, a bitter smile curling on Obito’s lips.

“You nearly killed her, which I might have forgiven you for, for her sake,” his voice was quiet, intensely focused, but the inner turmoil was unmistakable, “And then you allied yourself with him… Danzo, Kakashi? Do you even know what he has done?!”

Minato shook his head imperceptibly, warning him.

Metal clashed against metal.

Sparks flew as Kakashi deflected the attacks. He had no time to spare to fully consider Obito’s words. His desperate reproach. He couldn’t afford distractions, let alone mistakes. His life as a shinobi depended on this battle.

“I do what is necessary,” he replied, his voice firm, but the burden of his decisions pressed heavily on him.

To save Konoha. To save myself. From who I’ve become.

He continued to fight, blow after blow, as if each strike was tearing away a piece of his soul.

Every moment was fraught with tension, every movement potentially deadly. Elegantly, Shikaku dodged the graceful swing of Kakashi’s left fist, using the environment with an internalised Body Replacement Technique. In one fluid motion, Kakashi let his fingers brush over the snow-covered ice beneath a thin film of water, the burning cold touch rough against his skin. With a Suiton, the ice melted away, which only slightly disturbed Obito's balance, causing him to slip on the stone, which Kakashi used to surge forward.

But Shikaku held him in place with his Shadow Technique Jutsu just before Kakashi would have slashed Obito's throat without mercy. However, without hand signs, his jutsu dissolved too quickly and Kakashi cut him slightly on the arm. Obito leaped back acrobatically, skidding to his knees, his hand seeking support on the cold stone.

Kakashi jerked his head back to avoid another deadly thrust from Shikaku. But before he could react, Obito flickered into existence behind him, his figure like a mirage. A fierce punch to the gut pressed all air from his lungs before he was hurled with full force against the Torii gates. The world blurred for a moment as blood rose in his throat.

Shikaku’s eyes widened briefly, surprise and concern reflected in them. Itachi watched tensely as the two attackers nonetheless charged at him. Spitting blood, Kakashi stood up again, his body burning with pain, but his resolve unbroken.

He closed his eyes, as if to shut out the world around him. Each breath slowed, became more controlled, deeper. His heartbeat pounded in his ears like the drumming of a distant storm. Gently, his hand brushed over the frosty water at his feet and as Obito and Shikaku rushed at him with weapons raised, he dipped his hand in and opened his eyes.

With a swift motion, he hurled the chakra-infused water into the air, toward the two who were already poised to strike. The water moved in slow motion and countless tiny bubbles rose everywhere, hanging weightlessly in the air. Refracting the light, they made the world shine in a surreal glow. They seemed to distort time itself, but Kakashi used the moment to push Obito back, whose ninjatō whizzed dangerously close to his face. Just a few centimetres closer and it would have slashed his eyes.

Kakashi hit Shikaku hard in the face with the hilt of his weapon, causing him to fall through a water bubble that slowly fragmented into many smaller parts.

Purple lightning of the Raiton Shiden sparked in Kakashi’s hand, as automatically as if it were a long-honed instinct, and he extended his hand towards the floating water droplets. Some of the clan leaders cried out in shock at the sight of this unknown lightning jutsu, their reactions mingling with the crackle of electricity.

Shikaku briefly glanced at his partner with a pleading look as Obito, eyes wide open, formed a powerful Katon Jutsu. A raging fireball, a modified version of Goukakyuu no Jutsu, engulfed Obito and Shikaku in wild, uncontrollable flames, consuming the immediate droplets around them and briefly dissipating the electrified bubbles until Kakashi’s Raiton Shiden passed.

The roaring flames rose high, hungry for destruction, but they soon dissolved into nothingness.

Kakashi, his eyes closed, took a deep breath before sending the water bubbles crashing down with unstoppable force. The hail of Suiton Amearare struck relentlessly, hurling Shikaku and Obito mercilessly to the ground. But instead of hitting hard stone, they found themselves in a state of weightlessness, trapped in a crystalline water prison.

The world around them distorted, as if they were swimming in a shattered crystal. Shikaku let go of his spear and swam toward Kakashi, whose arm protruded through the wall of the Suirou no Jutsu to maintain it. He almost grasped his arm when, in a flash, Obito’s sword shot towards Kakashi with full force, missing just inches from Shikaku’s own arm. He quickly pulled back his hand, causing the prison to burst, while the blade hurtled dangerously fast towards the spectators.

For a moment, the world seemed to have stood still, only the faint ringing of the metal blade filling the air. With wide-open eyes, Minato looked at Danzo, who held the ninjatō in mid-air by the hilt, seconds before it would have pierced his head.

The air was now saturated with so many fine droplets that the world broke into a thousand pieces. The mirages and reflections became ever more finely broken and ever more sharply, while they engaged in fierce close combat. Every punch, every kick brought them closer to the abyss of themselves.

Shikaku managed to slice Kakashi’s hand with a drawn kunai and Kakashi stabbed Obito through his foot while spinning acrobatically, kicking Shikaku back into his own reflection. The place, with all its golden and white buildings, shattered like a kaleidoscopic nightmare that seemed to have no end, and the fighters battled against the distorted images of each other.

Madness in his eyes, Obito wanted to break through this twisted game and saw one of Kakashi’s reflections smirking tauntingly at him and mischievously waving.

“Where are you?! Show yourself!” he shouted in blind rage, spinning with drawn blade into emptiness.

But Kakashi’s grin morphed into a cruel laugh from Danzo, echoing a thousand times like distant thunder. Mockingly, it reverberated through the infinities of the shadows, growing stronger with each echo.

“What do you think you can do?” a malicious whisper mingled with the ominous laughter.

Obito’s eyes gleamed with desperate fury in the dim light.

“What can you possibly accomplish?”

Suddenly, Kakashi stabbed him in the back with his sword and Obito gasped irregularly for breath.

“You can’t save anyone,” Kakashi whispered in his ear.

Obito screamed in anger and hurled several shuriken at him, one of which struck Kakashi’s hand, causing him to hiss in pain and drop his ninjatō. But the illusion merely shattered into countless fragments, while multiple images of Danzo appeared around him. His heart blazing with hatred, Obito charged at him with a determined roar, but each one shattered into shadows. His screams echoed off the illusions and his tears froze in the cold. Warm blood ran down his body and mingled with the water beneath his feet.

“You are weak. A disappointment,” Danzo murmured, now standing directly in front of him and with a single, contemptuous thrust, he pushed the unarmed Obito to the ground.

Disgust was reflected in Danzo's eyes as he turned away, uninterested. The pain nearly drove Obito mad, but he forced himself to stand back up, panting heavily. Hatred consumed him and made his body tremble. In a fit of rage, Obito unleashed the powerful Katon Karyuudan, the Fire Dragon Bullet, from his throat, narrowly missing Danzo. Obito charged at him, screaming and slammed him to the ground. The world spun again as they both broke through the ground into the real world.

Obito, crouching over the prone Danzo, brutally punched him in the ribs. But Danzo freed himself with just a few moves and kicked Obito hard in the face, causing him to collapse limply.

With cold disdain, the Elder wiped the blood from his lips with a clean cloth and spat on the muttering Obito.

"Bastard," snarled the illusion, picking up his sword from the water, and slowly walked towards Obito.

With every step the illusion took, the clicking of his shoes on the cold stone echoed like a death knell, while he slowly dragged his ninjatō behind him. Obito’s eyes widened in fear as he tried to desperately crawl away. But Kakashi stomped on Obito’s leg with such violent force that a loud crack was followed by a bloodcurdling scream that tore through the air.

"Until the last blood," whispered Kakashi, his voice empty and without mercy.

Obito writhed in agony, screaming, and as he looked to the side, he saw Shikaku lying motionless on the ground. Darkly, Kakashi stalked after him as Obito cursed him with bitter hatred and the world around them returned once more to its normal form. The illusions created by the water jutsu dissolved one by one, until the falling snow melted into the blood-soaked water.

Coming to rest for a moment, Kakashi straightened up one last time and approached the suffering Obito again.

Until the last blood.

Breathing heavily, Obito reached out desperately for Minato, his hand bloody and trembling, before Kakashi plunged his sword through his throat, causing him to choke on his own blood. Only his tortured gasps echoed across the training-ground as the blood gushed from his mouth. But it quickly died away.

Kakashi’s emotionless, dead eyes were the last thing he saw.

The world stood still in grim silence until the hesitant applause of the Hokage cut through the air. Slowly, more and more of the spectators joined in, a gloomy congratulation for Kakashi’s first exam. Exhausted and covered in blood, Kakashi slowly stood up, his chakra reserves almost completely depleted.

Obito's body twitched one last time before Kakashi swiftly cut off its head.

Gently, the snow fell to the ground.

The world descended into madness.

Victory was his, but his heart had long since become a grave.

And from the shadows, Orochimaru's eyes gleamed.

Chapter Text

Kakashi stood still. Blood dripped from his sword.

Obito's body no longer twitched.

No, he had cut off the head, right...

The crowd applauded. Somewhere. Far away.

Their voices echoed like whispers in the wind. Kakashi heard nothing. Felt nothing.

He looked down at his trembling hands.

Blood. Blood. Blood everywhere!

It was cold and warm at the same time. Alive. Dead. The snow swallowed everything and slowly, he raised his eyes. His empty eye stared into the distance. Without direction. Without purpose.

I killed Obito.

"Well done, Kakashi," Danzo's distorted voice echoed from somewhere.

Kakashi didn't blink, gave no sign or recognition of having heard. There was only the void, spreading inside him. They despised him, grinned at him, congratulated him.

It's wrong. Wrong!

They spoke, but he couldn't register their words. His body answered mechanically. He felt like he was suffocating, like he had to do something urgently. Anything! Yet, a gaping abyss inside him paralysed him. He couldn't move, couldn't flee. Minato spoke to him.

No reaction. Kakashi slowly turned around. His eyes, as dead as Obito's and distant, far away, he registered how Minato froze.

"It... it's over," Minato spoke, but his words sounded hollow.

So far away. Insignificant.

Kakashi stared at him, but he saw nothing except the shadows crawling through their insides. They gnawed their faces like maggots. Darkness. Something inside him had shattered and pure panic rang in his ears. No pain. No fear. Only silence. It swallowed his thoughts, preventing him from thinking clearly. Think. Think!

A black hole that devoured everything.

Did he still remember Minato? Obito? Rin? He could no longer recognize the faces before him. It was all gone and yet clearer than ever. Shattered in the cold.

Only Hound remained.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, but Kakashi didn't respond.

"The village will honour you," they whispered.

But Kakashi felt nothing.

Honour? Meaningless.

Hound asked no questions. Held no doubts. Expected only orders. The man who was Kakashi no longer existed. Hound had awoken. The world around him spun, blurred. Shadows danced. Whispered. But Kakashi had long since ceased to be there.

The void swallowed everything.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

In the damp twilight of the Root hideout, Shin and Kinoe stood side by side. An oppressive silence hung over them, the air heavy with unspoken words and guilt. Trapped together in the darkness of the mission that bound them. So close and still, infinitely distant. Root had pushed them to the edge. To the edge of their humanity.

Kinoe's breathing was shallow, his hands trembling almost imperceptibly. Blood still clung to his fingertips, from a moment that had only passed a few minutes ago. A man, whose face he had seen for the first time, whose life he had ended with a single slash to the throat. It wasn't his first kill, but this moment haunted him more deeply than before.

"We had no choice," Shin murmured without looking directly at Kinoe, his voice brittle, as if he were speaking more to himself than to his partner, "It was a mission. They knew what they were getting into."

Kinoe didn't answer, instead wiping the blood off his kunai. Panic crept under his skin as the reality of what they had done slowly sank in. A single tear gathered up in his eye, sliding slowly down his cheek beneath his mask before it fell silently to the ground. It glistened in the darkness. Shin turned to Kinoe, unsure of what to say.

"It wasn't just a mission," Kinoe spoke instead in a low voice, barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a soul that had been shattered.

It was a punishment. Personal.

A quiet terror rose in Shin at those words. He knew that this mission wasn't originally supposed to fall to him, but to Weasel and Kinoe. Weasel meant as much to Kinoe as Sai meant family to Shin. The thought of Weasel himself killing Uchiha Izumi’s innocent parents sent a shiver down his spine.

All this just for a Sharingan...

Now Shin stood by Kinoe’s side, whose silent tears were the only sign of the betrayal he felt towards Weasel. They were tools of Root, forced to suppress any moral doubts.

"Don't worry," Shin finally said, his voice rough.

Kinoe nodded barely perceptibly, but his gaze remained fixed on the ground.

"We'll pay for this," he whispered, as if already seeing the answer in the darkness ahead, "For everything we've done."

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Minato watched the disturbing scene in front of him. The blood soaked the snow, glowing ruby red beneath the ice. Obito's head lay lifeless in the snow right before him, the pure desperation his face eternalised. Minato’s heart clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. The clan leaders congratulated Kakashi out of formality, but he just stood there, motionless, the sword still in his hand. His eye stared into nothingness, empty and dead.

"Kakashi..." Minato stepped closer, his voice soft, almost hesistant.

But Kakashi did not move. The applause gradually grew quieter. Next to him still stood the High Priestess, graceful and divine, but Minato could feel Miroku’s bitterness. Once, she had fled from the Land of Demons to Konohagakure to protect her daughter Shion and even though she knew Hatake wasn’t a true Oni, he walked dangerously close to that line. Minato stepped closer to Kakashi, trying to avoid her gaze.

"It’s... it's over," he whispered, his words sounding empty, as if he himself could hardly believe what he was saying.

It will never be over.

Slowly, he placed a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder, subtly reactivating the chakra suppression technique. Kakashi turned toward him, his eye gazing through him. Minato froze. There was no spark, no sign of life in his student’s eyes and Minato swallowed guitily.

"Kakashi..." he tried again, but he didn’t know what he should have said.

There was only emptiness.

He felt the coldness emanating from Kakashi and nodded in defeat, before he retreated a few steps and turned around. Accusing eyes bore into him from all sides. He turned to Itachi, who stood quietly, observing the scene.

"Itachi," he said with feigned strength, "Hatake-san’s evaluation is over. I have a request for you."

Without hesistation, Itachi stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Hound, but he said nothing. Minato nodded at him.

"Take him to the Anbu headquarters so he can prepare for his Taijutsu evaluation."

Understanding, Itachi bowed his head, his dark eyes serious, but he didn’t ask any questions. Wordlessly, he approached Hound and communicated in Anbu signs where they would go. Hound nodded curtly and followed silently.

Minato stayed behind.

Silently, Hound walked alongside the pup, who smelled of fresh leaves, his steps almost soundless as they left the narrow alleys of Konoha. The streets became emptier, the sounds of the village fading into the distance. But Hound noticed everything. Every movement. Every breath. While Kakashi might have ignored the details, Hound was alert. Attentive.

Itachi shouldn’t be here.

The pup had been banished, trapped in the chains of his responsibility and the decisions he had made. But Hound didn’t question it. He had been sent by a Hokage who should have long been dead. Nothing was ever as it seemed. Yet Itachi was here, walking ahead with calm steps and that meant Hound had to be vigilant with him. It was the deep-rooted instinct of a wolf.

His steps were controlled, his breathing perfectly even. But Hound saw more. The tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his gaze drifted. It was well hidden, but Hound recognized it. He was grieving. Itachi pulled a rope at the side of the bridge and a hidden door swung open silently. Behind it lay a narrow staircase, dimly lit.

Obito. His revenge would come. His relentless vengeance would spill blood. His hatred would bring unimaginable pain.

Hound knew Itachi was not weak, but as his grief echoed in the dark tunnels, the pup was not just any ninja, but a part of his pack. The path below them was smooth and damp, the smell of earth thick in the air. The faint dripping of water in the distance was like the whispering of the stone.

It wasn’t Hound’s way to speak, not as Hound. But he couldn’t ignore the pup’s suffering.

"You are grieving," Hound said quietly, his voice deep and rough, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.

The pup barely blinked, but Hound saw the brief flicker of emotion in his eyes. A tiny sign that no one but Hound had noticed. It was enough. Just recognizing it and offering silent support seemed to ease the burden on Itachi’s heart. The pup remained silent, but Hound didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t care. He wasn’t speaking to be heard. It was simply the truth.

They continued walking through the paths, into the secret world beneath Konoha. Hound felt the underground chill as they descended the stairs and knew exactly how deep they were going into the shadows. Each step familiar. Kakashi might have taken this path many times, but it was Hound who was truly at home here. A place where people could disappear.

“Grief is a sign of humanity,” Itachi finally said, his voice soft, almost a whisper, “And yet, we must not let it guide us.”

Roots protruded from the ceiling of the tunnel, Anbu symbols deeply carved into the stone. Hound tilted his head slightly. Itachi spoke of discipline, of duties that took precedence over everything, yet it was grief that would shape him. Hound raised his hand visibly for Itachi and signed.

“If you need protection, I will stand by your side, pup.”

Itachi stared at his hand for a moment before nodding and coming to a stop. Ahead of them was a massive metal door, hidden behind a curtain of old, dry roots. It appeared as though this side entrance to the ANBU headquarters hadn’t been used in decades. Itachi lifted his hand, placed it on the metal and the door slid open silently. Behind it was a large room, illuminated by a cold, pale light that seemed to originate from deep within the earth.

“This way,” Itachi said quietly.

No windows, no sounds, only the silence of the walls that held the village’s secrets. A single table, a few chairs, a mask hanging on a hook on the wall. It was a place Hound had often been, a place where he always awaited the next order. The air smelled of past wounds, of lost souls that had never returned.

The pup stood at the doorway, his gaze fixed on Hound. There was no mistrust, no doubt in his eyes. Only a silent understanding.

“Prepare well for your Taijutsu evaluation with Maito-san,” Itachi finally said.

Hound nodded mechanically. Orders were life. But his mind sharpened like a wolf’s ears. Gai. Another part of his pack. More than just a rival from Kakashi’s past. Something stable in a world that was falling apart more and more.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

The walls were pale, dressed in a hypnotic white, and only the stark, bright ceiling lights broke through the sterile cold of the room. Rin lay in her hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. Every breath hurt, a constant pulling sensation through her chest. It relentlessly stabbed into her like tiny needles, unyielding in her flesh.

The wan, lifeless daylight streamed through the narrow windows, casting her pale, trembling shadow on the floor. The pungent smell of disinfectants hung stiflingly in the air. The medical machines hummed softly, but endlessly. The bandage around her arm tightened slightly as she sat up and leaned against the pillows.

She waited as the hours passed.

Deep in her bones, she could feel it. Kakashi should have been there by now to visit her. Minato-sensei, too. Obito came to see her and sat caringly for a long time in the chair next to her bed, holding her hand gently and giving her strength.

But it was quiet. Unnaturally so.

Someone entered her hospital room, but Rin didn’t turn around. She knew it was a nurse, approaching with slow, cautious steps, but then stopping too far away. For too long. Too still. Her tired gaze wandered to the nurse’s hands and she knew it before the nurse spoke.

Everything inside her froze.

The air suddenly seemed thin, barely graspable. Her stomach turned as if the ground beneath her was about to vanish. The nurse lowered her head and closed her eyes for a moment. The silence crushed her. Every heartbeat felt like the ticking of a clock counting down to its own end.

The world spun. Rin felt her entire body go cold, the trembling starting in her hands. Her breathing became shallow and irregular. She shook her head in denial, as if she could avert the inevitable reality by doing so. But the silence that followed was louder than any explanation the nurse could have given.

Everything stopped.

The images came without warning. Obito, playfully racing her, his unmistakable energy, his smile that had so often comforted her. How they trained together under the sun, learned and fought side by side. Memories of their time together carved unhealable wounds into her heart.

It should have been me who died, not you, Obito.

A deep, overwhelming sadness coursed through her veins like an endless storm and her gaze fell on the empty space in the room. A space that would forever leave a mark on her heart. No sentence could capture the despair she felt, no word could describe the inconsolable pain rising within her.

Her eyes filled with tears, which slid like heavy drops down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move.

She was alone.

Rin sobbed loudly, her fingers digging into the too-white, too-sterile bedsheets, while her eyes burned and her heart ached. It hurt worse than any wound she could have suffered. There was a gaping hole in her soul, one that would never be filled again. Slowly, she raised a hand to cover her eyes, as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. Her body shook with the sobs she couldn’t hold back.

The world around her no longer seemed real. Nothing felt real except for the pain burning in her chest, like a fire consuming her from within.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Hound moved smoothly through the dusky forest, each step perfectly silent, every breath controlled. The order had been clear: Train. Prepare for the next mission. His body was a weapon and it needed to be sharpened. For hours he had trained in the hidden Anbu halls. Sword, kunai, shadows. It was routine, an endless repetition of precise movements. But he felt no fatigue. He felt nothing at all.

The wind was still, the gradual evening twilight peaceful. Training Ground Three lay under the dying light of the winter sun, but a figure moved, rhythmically and powerfully, across the snow. His strikes cut through the air with tremendous force, sweat dripping from his forehead. Each of his movements was an expression of iron will.

Normally it wasn’t Hound, who sought out his pack, but the maniac had been in control for far too long. Kakashi should take care of them while Hound protected them. He preferred to keep his distance in particular from Gai, but for Kakashi, Gai was more than just a part of the pack. And one never abandons the pack.

But Gai was important. Gai had always been there for them.

He suddenly stopped mid-movement and straightened up as Hound approached, his body imperceptibly detaching from the shadows. Slowly, Gai turned his head in his direction and their eyes met. A sudden gust of wind rustled through the treetops. His gaze was tired but firm. The usual lightness was missing. The energy that had once surrounded him was absent, the unstoppable blaze of youthful fire, his spririt now just a flickering ember.

Everything that made Gai, Gai, was simply missing.

“Kakashi?” Gai whispered.

“Kakashi!” Gai called out joyfully, his voice echoing across the entire field, full of life, full of passion, “Ready for another glorious duel?! Another epic battle, my eternal rival! May the power of youth never fade!”

Since Kakashi’s death, the spark in his eyes had been lost and though he trained hard every single day, it was now just routine. The passion that had once driven him, extinguished. The pain of his loss weighed heavily on Gai.

His rival. His friend. His benchmark.

Kakashi, who had appeared at dawn with a book in hand, who had ignored the moonlight to train with Gai until they were utterly exhausted.

Hound didn’t respond. He just looked at him with his dead, empty eyes. The silence was suffocating, almost painful. But he moved closer, with slow, deliberate steps. Gai knew that this wasn’t his Kakashi, or perhaps it was, in an incomprehensible way. He had heard that his friend was no longer the same after his death. Perhaps Kakashi was dead, perhaps this shadow before him was all that remained, but he was here nonetheless. And maybe... that was enough.

“It’s not the same,” Gai continued, his voice breaking, never taking his eyes off Hound, “Since you…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Since you died. Since you came back.

A few seconds passed, the tension between them pulsed in the air. Gai stood still, letting the familiarity of the moment sink in. Hound watched Gai, one of the few people who had always been there. Despite everything. And yet, he sensed that this part of his world was also on shaky ground.

Although Hound didn't say anything, Gai thought he saw a sparkle in the depths of his dark eyes. A distant reflection of the old Kakashi, a fleeting shadow lost in the distance.

“The fire…” Gai murmured and closed his eyes, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.”

A breath. A heartbeat.

And suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly as the earth seemed to threaten to swallow him. Like an anchor pulling him from the darkness. A touch that gave him strength and warmth.

“I missed you, rival,” came a familiar, soft voice in his ear.

Gai gasped in surprise and opened his eyes, looking deeply into his counterpart’s gaze. Staring into the gentle glimmer of Kakashi’s eyes. The hand on his shoulder pressed more firmly, a gesture of confirmation, but also of comfort.

“Gai,” Kakashi said, his voice now no longer that of a ghost, but of his friend, “I’m here.”

Without realizing it, tears welled up in Gai's eyes. He took a step forward and wrapped his strong arms around Kakashi. He held him close, so tight that it almost hurt. His forehead rested heavily on Kakashi's shoulder and the tears he had held back for so long ran silently down his face, falling on Kakashi's black clothes. Kakashi held Gai just as tightly, his grip gentle yet full of meaning, with warmth in his embrace. In that moment, it was as if all the unspoken words between them were resolved. The sorrow, the gratitude, their indelible bond.

“Welcome back, my friend,” Gai finally said, his voice broken but full of infinite relief.

Chapter Text

The moon hung like a pale crescent in the sky, its cool, faint beams reflecting on the still waters of the lake that stretched before the two men. The surface of the lake was so smooth it looked like polished silver, only occasionally disrupted by the gentle movements of fish swimming close to the surface. It was a night of peaceful silence, so calm that one might almost believe they could hear the trees breathing, the faint rustling of leaves swaying in the wind like the arms of invisible gods watching over them.

Kakashi and Gai sat side by side, silently, as nature pulsed gently around them in the rhythm of an ancient melody, one that only those who lingered in moments like this could hear. The stars sparkled like tiny diamonds in the sky and the night seemed wrapped in an enchantment as old as time itself.

Distantly, the calls of an owl echoed through the darkness and Kakashi drew the cool air deeply into his lungs, absorbing the rare peace. But beneath this quiet reflection, a tension simmered, lingering between the two shinobi. Invisible yet palpable. The wind carried with it a restless chill that settled on Kakashi's skin as his fingers unconsciously glided over the mask covering his face.

"It's strange to be back here," he finally began softly, his voice barely more than a fragile whisper, nearly lost in the rustling of the trees.

The wind gently caressed their hair, as if greeting the two weary warriors who had seen so much and yet always returned to this solitary stillness, where war and guilt held no sway over them for just a moment. Gai's hands rested heavily on his thighs, his fingers slightly curled as though trying to hold on to something that threatened to slip away at any moment.

The moon shone above them as the tall grass swayed beside them, moving with a frost-like weight that reminded them of the coming winter. Fireflies danced like tiny ghosts above the ground, flickering and fleeting.

"Sometimes I wonder," Kakashi continued quietly without looking at Gai, "’how it could ever come to this."

Gai said nothing but shifted slightly closer to his old friend, offering silent support. In his eyes was unspoken concern, the quiet solace of understanding and steadfastness in the darkness that threatened to swallow them. He had known this moment would come eventually. His friend had returned, but something had changed. Not just Kakashi, but Gai as well.

The dark veils of clouds that covered the stars told their stories and nature itself seemed to listen. Everything around them was so alive and yet so still. And it was as if the air around them grew heavier in anticipation of their next words. The starlight fell softly on their faces.

Kakashi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His thoughts swirled inside him like a storm. Chaotic and uncontrollable. Images flickered before him, distorted faces and blood-soaked battlefields, the noise of war and the screams of the dead. It wasn't new, the things that haunted him. But it was the way he saw them. Distant, as if he were merely a spectator of his own life.

"I can feel it…" he began, his voice fragile and hoarse, before the words caught in his throat.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, which slowly clenched into fists.

"Something in me is... broken, Gai."

His fingernails dug deep into his palms, but he felt no pain. The dull feeling of emptiness overshadowed everything. He lowered his head, his moist eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

"After my resurrection…" he hesitated, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the vague, fragmented memories, "it's like there are screams... faces… But I don't really remember. It's like a shadow, waiting to pull me back into the darkness."

Gai stared at him, the expression in his eyes a mixture of surprise and concern. Until now, it had only been a suspicion, but the fact that Kakashi himself spoke of resurrection confirmed it. Something that no one, not even Kakashi, should have known. That he had actually died and returned from the Yomi¹, the realm of the dead. Minato had strictly forbidden any mention of it, yet now that Kakashi had brought it up himself, Gai could no longer remain silent.

He quickly and warily surveyed the surrounding darkness.

"The Hokage forbade us from speaking of it," Gai began slowly, cautiously, "but… there are rumours. In Anbu, it is whispered that some people vanished without a trace after you were brought back. It sounds like standard procedure when there are casualties during an S-rank mission."

A bitter taste crept up Kakashi's throat. The faces reappeared before his mind's eye, fragmented and distorted. Genma's blood-soaked face flashed briefly and his blood on Kakashi's hands. He felt torn, as though there were parts of himself that he could not understand, as if he wasn’t in control of himself.

"It was as though I was just a spectator… unable to do anything. And then… I heard your voice, Gai. It was as if you woke me up… from a deep sleep. I could truly feel the warmth of the sun for the first time since my return… the freedom. For the first time, I felt whole again… complete. And yet..."

His words trailed off into the stillness of the night, but the weight remained between them, unspoken, but ever-present. The fireflies danced in the darkness, their delicate lights reflecting on the calm water of the lake. The peaceful surroundings stood in stark contrast to the turmoil that raged inside Kakashi. Gai lowered his head, listening to the chirping of the last crickets.

"Your Reikon² is wandering," Gai stated quietly, "When you were in Yomi, your soul must have crossed paths with your four Mitama³. The resurrection has thrown them out of balance."

Kakashi's thoughts raced. If Gai was right and his Mitama, the four spiritual aspects of his soul, had mingled, then he should never have returned. It was simply not possible for someone whose soul had become one in Yomi to be resurrected.

Unless…

"Are you telling me I'm a Yuurei⁴?" Kakashi asked, shaken, staring at his hands as if he might find the answer there.

A ghost, trapped between life and death, a relic that should never have been brought back.

How could Gai even look him in the eye, knowing what kind of monster he had become? How could he ever deserve the gift of life, considering his bestiality?

Gai looked at him, unmoved by the significance of the words, and gently placed his hand over Kakashi's chest, directly over his heart. The warmth of Gai's hand calmed him, slowing his racing pulse. It was like an anchor in a raging storm.

"It doesn't matter what form your soul takes now," Gai spoke softly, but with firm conviction in his voice, "Even if you're a Yuurei... to me, you're Kakashi. And I'm just glad you're here. That I can talk to you. That we can see the stars together. That's all that matters."

Kakashi looked deep into Gai's eyes and in that moment, he saw the pain his death had left in his friend. Tears shimmered in Gai's eyes and Kakashi felt the weight of the grief that had accompanied him through time.

"I… was so afraid, Kakashi," Gai admitted, his voice cracked and permeated with sorrow, "I couldn’t turn away until they found you… when all that was left were torn pieces of you."

Tears streamed down Gai's face, falling onto his chest. He reached out and gently stroked the scars on Kakashi’s body, which appeared raven-black in the moonlight. The golden edges glowed softly under the gentle light of the stars, bearing witness to the divine touch that had brought him back to life.

"In that moment, my world collapsed," Gai whispered, looking up at the stars.

"It was a pain like I had never felt before… and one I never want to feel again. I thank whatever gods, demons or devils brought you back. That we have each other."

Kakashi's heart clenched at these words. He felt the burden of the guilt he carried within him. The monster he had become, the lives he had taken. And yet... Gai was there. The only person who accepted him unconditionally, who still saw the person he once was.

Gently, Kakashi placed a hand on Gai's shoulder and together they gazed up at the sparkling stars in the clear night sky. Tears welled in Kakashi's eyes, but they felt different. Not as a sign of pain, but of redemption.

"I'm here, Gai," Kakashi finally whispered, "You're not alone and I'll be there for you, just as you've always been for me."

Gai nodded silently and their hands found each other, a silent promise that transcended the shadows and the abysses they had walked through. The moon cast its silver light on the two shinobi and in this quiet, almost sacred night, they felt that despite all the pain, guilt and darkness within them, their friendship was the only thing that still held them together.

A long silence spread between them as the night wrapped its mantle over them. And if they ever lost themselves in the darkness, if their fires extinguished, they would always remain in each other's hearts.

Their eyes met and for a moment, there was only understanding, the comfort they offered each other. Kakashi gazed at the crescent moon, shrouded by clouds. It reminded him of old stories. Stories of Tsukuyomi, the god of the moon, who ruled the night. A silent yet powerful observer who guarded the secrets of the darkness.

"I thought…" he began, but he could barely speak the words aloud without losing himself, " thought I could stop him, Gai."

His voice was barely more than a whisper. In this quiet, moonlit night, they were allowed to be fragile. Torn.

“The nations,” Kakashi continued, lost in thought, “are almost sinking into an unstoppable war. Children are being sent to the front lines. Billions of souls die on the battlefields. And no one will remember their faces.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as Gai recalled all the suffering they had witnessed. The sacrifices made to create the world. Kakashi took a deep breath, fighting the emotions welling up within him.

“The Water Daimyou,” Kakashi whispered, carefully testing the title on his tongue, “I remember his death… the blood I shed. But they’re just… fragments.”

Gai closed his eyes and let the silence settle around them. He remembered the day when the end had begun. Weeks before he stood in the blood of his friend. When he had to let him go.

“It was a massacre,” Gai breathed, lost in thought.

The fresh air felt like the death that had surrounded him. The forest seemed to breathe deeper, as if nature itself carried those unspeakable moments within it. In that stillness, it was almost as if the ancient spirits themselves were judging their burden.

“You begged us, pleaded with us, to let you go,” Gai continued, the weight and pain of that decision lacing every word, “You knew they by far outnumbered you, that you weren’t just facing one Daimyou, no, but two. And still, you went.”

A sad smile played on his lips as his gaze drifted over the black waters of the lake, the stars above like silent observers. Thousands of eyes staring down at them, condemning them.

“My Anbu team waited… except for me. I rushed after you like a desperate fool.”

His voice sounded bitter as he spoke these words, a burden he could never fully let go of. A faint tinkling echoed as the ice at the lake’s edge clinked like a distant wind chime and for a moment, the night was filled with a painful silence.

“But you…” Gai spoke, his voice growing quieter, more reverent, “You stood there. Surrounded by hundreds of Kiri and Kumo nin. They rushed at you, but you threw them back. Again and again. It was as if the world itself couldn’t stop you.”

He could see the scene before him, the rush of blood in his ears, the distant roar of battles that never seemed to end. Their screams, a distant memory in the cool night. How Kakashi had stood firm against two of the most powerful figures of all nations. A sense of awe washed over him, mixed with a deep sadness that never fully left him.

“Relentless. Unyielding,” he whispered, “It seemed like nothing could stop you.”

His eyes flickered with pride as he thought of those moments, of the dazzling gleam of white light that had suddenly illuminated the forest.

“Then, a light shone, brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. It was as if Takamagahara itself had touched you. The trees bowed before you, the wind bent to your will and the earth trembled beneath your feet. It was… indescribable.”

Kakashi closed his eyes, the weight of that memory heavy on him, and whispered, as if the name held a power he didn’t wish to speak aloud.

“Ame no Minakanushi⁵,” he whispered, “The Spirit of the North Star.”

The words hung in the air, infused with an ancient energy. Kakashi could still feel the light coursing through him, the powers of the gods pulsing in his veins. How peace had returned to his soul, sharpening his mind in clarity. But it also filled him with fear at the thought of such godlike power.

“Was that what you were supposed to steal? Was this what was in the Hidden Forbidden Scroll?” Gai finally asked, his eyes filled with amazement.

In that moment, Kakashi saw the flame of excitement in Gai’s eyes, a flame that had been lost. He smiled gently.

“There was never a scroll. I was sent to the Land of Water to die.”

The snow sparkled under the moonlight beside them, yet the cold of the night seemed to weigh heavier on them. A whisper passed through the wind, as the frozen blades of grass quietly brushed against each other, their ice singing.

“Why?” Gai breathed quietly, not understanding.

A firefly landed gently on Kakashi’s hand and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Kakashi sighed, his eyes fixed into the endless night sky.

“He knows what I am. A Hatake. Just as the Iburi clan can turn into smoke, the Chinoike can control blood with the Ketsuryuugan and the Hyuuga possess the Byakugan… we too have our Kekkei Genkai.”

“White Chakra,” Gai added attentively.

Slowly, Kakashi nodded.

“In recent years, rumours have spread that the ancient gods have returned. And it was said they were seen at the birthplace of mists and storms. My mission was more than just the theft of an old scroll. I was to capture one of them. But one doesn’t simply catch a god.”

His voice broke and he let out a short, distorted laugh. Broken. The stars in the sky continued to circle, time passed in unstoppable waves, but in this moment, eternity seemed to flow around them. Gai’s heart raced. The Tailed Beasts were already the epitome of unmatched power. Terrifying and cruel. But the gods? The gods were the end of all hope. Beings that made even the horrors of the Tailed Beasts seem like harmless shadows.

“One of the gods?” Gai whispered fearfully as he watched the fireflies dance through the night air like tiny fire dragons.

A tear rolled down Kakashi’s face and in the fresh night air, he felt the world around him shift.

“I felt them die. All of them.”

Gai gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as Kakashi’s eyes glistened, his gaze fixed on the snow.

“It’s like… leaving parts of yourself behind,” Kakashi murmured, his voice distant, “Lost moments that will haunt us forever.”

In the darkness, enveloped by the silence of nature and the burden of their past, Kakashi felt as though they were both mere pawns in a game of gods that stretched far beyond their understanding. Yet, despite it all, they found an anchor in each other’s presence, keeping them grounded through the night.

“They speak of sending you to the Peace Trials as punishment,” Gai said with a trembling voice.

The wind carried the sound away, but the meaning lingered like an invisible burden between them.

They’re sending me back to my grave.

Obediently, Kakashi nodded, but the unease in his heart didn’t settle.

“I don’t want to die again,” he whispered, his voice fragile and uncertain, a quiet confession he had long kept locked away.

The words hit Gai like a blow. He slowly turned to his friend and looked into his eyes. Eyes that usually seemed so strong and unyielding, now glimmered with vulnerability.

“And I’m so glad I have you,” Kakashi continued, his gaze fixed steadily on Gai, “I’m glad you kept going… that you lived. That you’re so strong. I’m proud to be your eternal rival.”

The words carried a rare tenderness, a praise that struck Gai deeply. Deeper than he let on.

The moon seemed to shine brighter, while the twinkling of the stars above gently flickered. Despite the darkness raging within Gai, he found fleeting peace in Kakashi’s words. Fragile, yet enough to carry him through the void. Gai smiled warmly, but his eyes betrayed a heaviness only few knew.

“I don’t know if I deserve that praise. I have more blood on my hands, Kakashi… more than you might realize.”

The night embraced Kakashi and Gai like a velvet cloak as they lay side by side in the frozen grass, staring into the infinity of stars. Like distant jewels, silent and untouched by all earthly concerns. The lake lay calm, its reflection a perfect image of the nocturnal eternity, while frogs croaked faintly at the shallow shores.

Kakashi leaned against the cool bark of a tree, his arms folded behind his head, while his thoughts weighed heavier than the peaceful surroundings. The air was clear, filled with the scent of damp moss and pine needles, like a gentle breath of nature reminding him he was still alive. But despite this quiet beauty, an unrest stirred within him that he could no longer ignore.

Who was Kakashi, what was left of him when his soul wandered? Was he not already a pale reflection, an imposter of himself, if he were a Yuurei?

Gai breathed beside him, evenly and steady, this moment of peace a blessing for them both. A brief moment of normalcy amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

Suddenly, Kakashi heard the crack of branches in the distance, barely audible but unmistakable. His senses sharpened instantly and Gai also sat up slightly, his eyes fixed on the edge of the forest.

Two figures stepped out of the shadows, the moon casting its light on them, and it only took a moment for Kakashi to recognise them. Ebisu and Gekko Hayate, both serious and aloof as ever, but their eyes betrayed something else. A mix of duty and concern, which immediately made Kakashi suspicious.

“Hatake,” Ebisu began, his voice calm, though a strange coldness lay in his words, “Namikaze-sama sent us to check on you.”

Hayate’s gaze rested heavily on Kakashi. Though his slender frame and the illness that caused his shoulders to droop might suggest weakness, there was a sharpness in his eyes that didn’t escape Kakashi. The moon cast its light on the sword at Hayate's side. The sword that Genma had once carried.

"It’s late," Hayate added, his voice rough and ominous, "and Minato-sama... is worried about you."

Gai, who was still lying down, now sat up and warily observed the two newcomers. The atmosphere was tense and Kakashi understood what this ‘concern’ truly meant. It wasn’t just the well-meaning care of a worried sensei, but surveillance.

Distrust.

"I was just... with Gai," Kakashi said, his voice calm, but he could feel the tension growing in his body.

"The Hokage-sama doesn't want you to be alone," Ebisu replied.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Kakashi and Kakashi sensed the sharp hostility in the air.

"We'll escort you back," Hayate said curtly, taking a step forward.

Compliantly, Kakashi nodded, stood up and cast a brief glance at Gai. Gai returned the look calmly, but behind that facade, Kakashi could feel the worry bubbling beneath the surface.

"Let’s go," Kakashi finally said, his voice smooth but heavy.

But then, unexpectedly, Gai broke the silence. "Kakashi!"

Pausing, Kakashi turned to look at him once more. Gai gave Kakashi a weak but warm smile.

"We'll see each other tomorrow morning… for a glorious Taijutsu match," Gai promised, his voice determined, but gentle.

The frost of the night seemed to seep deeper into his bones and the silence that had just brought him comfort now felt oppressive. Every step he took away from Gai felt like a farewell.

Chapter Text

Their steps silent. Their bodies like shadows. Their blades flashed silver in the pale moonlight.

Kakashi followed Ebisu and Hayate across the rooftops of Konoha, which gleamed faintly under the stars. They moved smoothly through the darkness, as death waited, hidden, among them. The air was crisp from the last snowfall and an eerie stillness hung over them as the two Anbu ahead of him hurried forward.

Grim-faced, Kakashi pressed his lips together, trying to keep his footing on the slick tiles. Without chakra, shadow-leaping on a winter night could be dangerous. Almost deadly. The stars above seemed to watch in anticipation and the crescent moon grinned mockingly down at them.

A light wind swirled snowflakes upwards and the cold air burned in their lungs. Thin trails of smoke rose towards the heavens from some chimneys, melting the ice with their fiery heat. Cracking it. Destroying it. Emotionless, rigid masks covered their faces, hiding all traces of feeling. Yet, Ebisu and Hayate exchanged silent glances as they neared Minato’s house.

It stood at the village's edge, where the darkness merged with its walls and only a single window kept the night at bay with its light. The house seemed unnaturally quiet. Abandoned. Staged. Ebisu and Hayate landed soundlessly on the wintery ground in one of Konoha's dark alleys and Kakashi hesitated before following them. Too soon. Minato’s house was close, but the warming light still sparkled too far away for them to enter the streets.

Kakashi watched their hands warily, which were resting tensly on the hilts of their blades, noticing the fire that flickered in their eyes. Grief in their hearts, revenge on their minds. Slowly, his own fingers moved toward the Anbu katana at his side, his breathing slowing as he focused. Every careful step he took left gentle imprints in the fine snow.

There was barely more than a soft singing, carried away by a gentle breeze, as Hayate’s sword glowed gold beneath the moon’s blessing. Kakashi remained still, keeping his distance from the two men he had once trained with. The ones he had betrayed.

Hayate walked a few more paces, dragging the tip of his sword behind him. The harsh scrape against the cold stone echoed with hatred as he stared into the darkness ahead until he finally stopped. Calmly, he raised his hand and removed his Anbu mask, letting it slip carelessly from his fingers. Its shattering was the only sound that rang through the street.

Suspiciously, Kakashi also drew his katana from its sheath and extended it toward them, his eyes locked on Hayate’s silhouette, whose shoulders began to shake. A brief, cruel laugh broke the silence and Kakashi took a few steps back as Ebisu quickly drew a kunai, turning to face him.

Hayate sighed slowly and tilted his head, his twisted grin distorting his face and the reflection of the heavens still blazing in his eyes, which now held a storm.

“Hatake Kakashi...,” he hissed with amusement.

But the scorn in his voice was unmistakable and bitterly, Hayate shook his head as he turned to face Kakashi, his gaze shining ghostly. Casually, he pointed his sword at the white death that stood across them.

“You. The great hero of Konohagakure, the Yellow Flash’s prodigy,” he said cynically, his smile flickering in and out of existence, “Tell me, how does it feel to be a traitor?”

Kakashi stared back, silently, knowing that even if he answered, his words would be nothing more than hollow echoes. The pain, the sadness, the rage. They would never be able to forgive him for Genma’s death. Ebisu twirled his kunai playfully between his fingers.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Ebisu asked darkly. “Because of you, we’re being sent back to war. Because of you, Genma is dead! It’s all your fault.”

“Genma?” Kakashi repeated, feigning confusion, as if he knew nothing.

A soft crunch sounded and Ebisu lunged at him, fury blazing in his eyes. Their blades clashed with a sharp ring, while the guilt weighed heavily on Kakashi’s shoulders. His sins. But he couldn’t die here, no matter how much his past weighed him down.

Gai had only just regained his hope.

He had just begun to feel the warmth of this world again.

And there was still blood to spill.

His plans in the Land of Water remained incomplete and he hadn’t lied to Gai for nothing. Kakashi parried the kunai, but a searing pain shot through his head as he tried in vain to access his chakra. A dull, roaring noise filled his ears as he struggled to maintain his balance. Ebisu’s mask split in two and he jumped back cautiously.

The pressure of the seal gnawed at him, suffocated him, robbed him of his senses. Trapped. Helpless and vastly outmatched against his enemies, for he was no Taijutsu specialist like Gai or Chen.

What had Sensei been thinking, sending me among Anbu whose comrades I supposedly killed, without a way to defend myself?

Together they circled around him as a low growl rumbled threateningly from deep in Kakashi’s throat. Surprise flashed in Hayate’s stormy eyes.

“You’ll always be a filthy animal,” Ebisu spat with icy contempt.

The hateful words of his former comrade struck Kakashi and for a moment, everything around him seemed to sway. His felt lightheaded and the snow beneath his feet wobbled, but he forced himself to stay focused despite the violent suppression of his chakra.

“I betrayed no one,” Kakashi hissed coldly, hiding his exhaustion.

Hayate snorted derisively, wrinkling his nose. Even to Kakashi, his words sounded hollow. The dizziness grew stronger as Hayate and Ebisu charged at him again, their katanas clashing repeatedly. The metallic clanging blurred the world around him. The freezing wind bit into his skin, while inside, he burned.

“Not betrayed? Tell that to those who died because of you. Tell that to those who trusted you and are no longer among us. Do you really think... we forgot?! Do you think there’s no retribution for your treachery?!”

Angry, three of Hayate’s clones attacked Kakashi simultaneously with deadly precision. It was his signature move, the Mikadzuki no Mai, the Dance of the Crescent Moon, but Kakashi held his ground. But the world spun. The dizziness made it hard to track their movements precisely and they nicked his face with shallow cuts.

Metal and blood. Strike after strike.

The same pain, the same sorrow over and over again.

His breathing was laboured as he struggled to block their blows, fighting against the storm that threatened to overwhelm him. His body burned, his head throbbed and the pain from countless cuts made him stagger.

“Did you think you could murder and kill and destroy without consequences?!” Hayate screamed furiously, while relentlessly attacking.

Their steps were cautious in their dance, while Kakashi’s vision blurred. He could barely stay upright as Ebisu suddenly swirled snow into his face, obscuring his sight, allowing Hayate’s shadow clone to slice deep into his side.

The pure white snow turned red.

“Lies.”

Another slash to his leg. The warm blood ran down his skin, dripping softly to the ground, while the throbbing pain spread through his body and hammered against the seal.

“Upon lies.”

Another blow. More blood. Kakashi swayed, his fingers brushing against the cold walls in the midst of battle, barely keeping him upright.

Coldness and pain merging into blackness.

“And even more lies,” Hayate whispered calmly, before his katana, stained with Kakashi’s sins, aimed for his heart.

Kakashi raised his blade in defence, silver under the pale clouds and peaceful ice crystals, but his movements were slower, more sluggish. The seal tugged at him, draining his last ounce of strength as his pulse raced.

The impact echoed through the darkness and sparks flew as steel clashed with steel. Gold against silver, wind against storms.

It burned and twisted.

“This damned seal,” Kakashi growled through clenched teeth as Ebisu brutally stabbed through his left hand.

He gasped for breath, his senses clouded by the searing pain. Violently, Kakashi tore the kunai from his flesh and gouged out one of Ebisu’s eyes. His scream split the night, echoing through the empty streets, drawing several pairs of eyes from the shadows. The Anbu, lurking in the darkness, watched the spectacle from a safe distance.

Observant. Indifferent. Silent.

Their masks were blank and emotionless. Furious, Ebisu formed the Doton: Dorojigoku, immobilizing Kakashi’s legs in the earth and breaking them on the spot. A short cry escaped Kakashi as Ebisu grinned with satisfaction. The other Anbu did nothing, simply watched. Waiting.

The pressure of his trapped chakra threatened to tear him apart, but the seal held fast and his flickering vision pulsed in time with the overwhelming pain. His breath caught in his throat and when Ebisu released him from the jutsu, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in agony.

A single tear escaped under the moon and the world faded, became unreal. Everything blurred beneath a veil of light, distorting all around him into the unrecognizable. And far away, he felt the cold metal against his throat.

Hayate stared down at the thing before him with disgust, lifting his head in disdain. Enraged, he slashed deeply into his shoulder and a bone-chilling scream sang in his ears. Agasin and again, they drove their blades into Kakashi, until he collapsed to the ground, barely conscious.

Tears of vengeance shimmered in Hayate's eyes, yet none of his blows could fill the void in his heart.

"Die."

Executioner and judge.

His blood-stained blade pierced Kakashi’s chest. But Kakashi could no longer feel it, as the world around him dissolved, blurring into a kaleidoscopic swirl of light and darkness. Pain, all that remained of the past. Guilt, all that lingered of the present.

"Die!" Hayate screamed desperately one last time, before he shakily plunged his katana through Kakashi’s throat, the sound of his ragged breathing the only thing left echoing in the night.

Kakashi felt the seal shatter and his chakra flared up like a beacon.

I don’t want to die.

But it no longer mattered. His fate had been sealed long ago and as his last breath slipped away, while he gazed up fearfully at the closed eyes of the stars.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

"It won’t be easy, Kushina," Jiraiya sighed and leaned back with a grave expression, "Uzushiogakure isn’t what it once was. But you know you have to go back."

The dim lantern light made Kushina’s red hair glow like a fiery cascade flowing over her shoulders. A spark of fear danced in her violet eyes. At dawn, they would set out for Uzushiogakure. The home of her ancestors. The home of the dead.

A monument to the annihilation of her entire clan.

But it had to be done and time was running out before the simmering tension between the nations boiled over. To protect the village.

“We need you,” Jiraiya said softly but urgently, “But it’s going to be especially hard on you mentally, which is why Minato and Tsunade have decided to send a backup team for safety, arriving shortly after you.”

Kushina nodded, though her thoughts drifted. Something felt wrong. An unease, like a silent warning. But she couldn’t place it. She tried to focus on Jiraiya’s words, but her gaze wandered toward the door of the small restaurant.

“Kushina, is everything alright?” Jiraiya asked, concerned as he studied her.

She felt it, like a phantom sensation, and slowly rose to her feet.

“The seal…” she realised, while an unbearable heat began to consume her from within and yet, somehow, it did not.

Jiraiya’s eyes widened and without a second thought, he leapt up, knocking his chair aside, sending his ramen bowl crashing to the floor. He raced outside just as a column of white chakra lit up the night sky. A sudden pain surged through Kushina and she fell to her knees, screaming.

It was as if her heart had been set ablaze.

As if her flesh was melting off her bones.

The seal is broken.

“Kushina!” Jiraiya shouted in panic, rushing to help her up.

But without even glancing at him, she stood trembling by his side, her eyes fixed in terror on the pillar of white light.

“Kakashi,” she whispered in shock and focused her chakra.

In an instant, she vanished, teleporting through the Hiraishin, and Jiraiya wasted no time following her.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Darkness.

Black, impenetrable darkness, pierced only by pale, lightning-like flashes that flickered in his consciousness and faded away like dying stars.

The metallic blood in his lungs.

The stench of death choking him.

The cold creeping over his skin like needles, seeping in every muscle, every bone.

The pain… The all-consuming agony numbed his senses, holding him on the threshold between life and death. Yet something stirred within him, like a cold glow gnawing through the darkness. The seal that had bound him had finally broken.

And in that moment of liberation, he returned. As if waking from a nightmare. The pain remained and it would never leave him again. But instead of dull torment, it was now a clear, searing burn that sharpened his mind and focused his senses.

A distorted clarity that permeated his entire being.

The suffering, the anguish, this endless torture had haunted him his entire life and a cold, merciless grin flickered in his eyes. Kakashi welcomed it like an old friend. Embraced once more the madness that had always shadowed him. His soul craved the blood, the sweet taste of betrayal. The betrayal that had shaped him.

Slowly, his gaping wounds began to close, his scarred flesh knitting itself together in a grotesque dance of distorted hope and despair. His eye, which he had never closed, began to see the night again. The ghostly snowflakes, which had once danced to his death, sharpened in focus, each crystal suspended in the air. Slower and slower, as if time were slowing down.

His lungs filled with icy air, the pain of each breath through his shredded throat unbearable. But it was not the pain of death, but of life flowing back into him. A first breath in the chaos of the universe.

Trembling, Hayate's katana slipped out of his fingers, which clattered to the stone floor with a metallic echo. Fear reflected in his eyes and his shallow breathing quickened as he looked into Kakashi’s cruel gaze.

The eyes of death.

Panic flickered in Ebisu as he clutched his gaping eye socket and warm blood streamed through his fingers. His body shook, his lips quivering uncontrollably. Both shinobi stared in terror at the white-haired demon rising before them.

“No… this can’t be…” Hayate whispered, his voice wavering, his eyes widening in pure horror.

Step by step, he stumbled backwards as Kakashi advanced. The shadows clung to his silhouette and in his eyes burned with nothing but madness.

Cold, calculating insanity.

As the eyes fled from the darkness.

But it was far too late.

What stood before them was no longer a human being. No longer a soul. Not the kind-hearted Kakashi they had murdered. Before them stood a nightmare come to life. The shadow of a shinobi driven solely by an insatiable hunger for blood. A madness so deep and dark that it had erased every shred of mercy, every ounce of humanity.

Before them stood not Hound, who might have granted them a gentle death in indifference, but something far worse.

A shadow Hokage, who would tear them apart, not for the wounds they had inflicted, but to revel in their terror-stricken and pain-filled gazes. An Anbu commander, who would brutally dismember them with ruthless precision.

Before them stood the feared Silver Wolf^*.

His grey eye seemed black as the abyss of the damned and his blade sliced through the air so silently that the falling snowflakes weren’t even disturbed by its wind. Confused, Hayate’s hands reached for his throat, where a thin red line had appeared, just before the blood spurted out and he swallowed chokingly. For a brief moment, he stood there, his eyes wide open, before he fell dull into the stained snow.

Ebisu stumbled back, collapsing to the ground, the blood from his wound flowing hot over his face, while his panicked screams swallowed by the icy night.

"Please… wait… Kakashi…" he gasped, panic-stricken and desperate, as he dragged himself along the ground.

But Kakashi had already made his decision.

No one would escape.

With a single, precise stroke, Kakashi’s blade pierced his chest. The sickening sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh echoed through the peaceful winter night, followed by his hoarse gasps as the life drained from Ebisu’s body. His final breath came in a bloody gurgle, running tenderly down his chin and soaking the snow beneath him in a dark red. His lifeless body fell heavily to the ground, dead at Kakashi’s feet.

As their glazed eyes stared up at him, Kakashi’s eyes gleamed. The madness burned in them, like the unquenchable fire of the gods’ twilight.

And then he sensed them.

The silence wrapped around him protectively like a shield and the winter air seemed to vibrate for a split second, before Kushina appeared in the street. But Kakashi was already gone. Behind her came Minato, Fugaku and Jiraiya, while in front of them hell laid open and their eyes widened in shock.

The snow was soaked in red, a pool of blood shimmering beneath the crescent moon’s rich light and before them lay the lifeless bodies of Hayate and Ebisu.

“What… what happened here…?” Fugaku asked, a faint whisper in the dead silence.

Minato’s gaze met his, the stillness of the night heavy with unspoken words. And slowly, Jiraiya’s gaze slid fearfully to Minato’s house, where only one window glowed with a warm, innocent light.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

A soft laugh, bright and childlike, echoed through the house. The room was bathed in a gentle, golden light.

"Kakashi-niisan!"

Blood dripped from Kakashi’s fingers, the heavy droplets staining the floor, though Naruto seemed not to notice. His bright blue eyes sparkled with joy as he spotted the familiar white hair. He dashed towards Kakashi and jumped into his arms with cheerful exuberance, his tiny hands clutching at Kakashi's clothes.

"You're finally here!" Naruto exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

Visibly surprised, but unable to resist the child’s charm, Kakashi knelt down and lifted Naruto playfully. A rare, soft smile flitted across his lips, hidden behind his mask.

"Hey, little ninja. You should’ve been in bed long ago," he teased gently, while Naruto beamed happily.

"But I wanted to wait until you got here! Mum said yesterday that you were staying over tonight!" Naruto said impatiently, but full of the innocence of a child.

Yesterday.

To Kakashi, it felt so much longer. So much had happened. The moon cast a faint light through the windows, distorting the shadows on the walls, and quietly, he closed the door behind him, which fell into the lock with a soft click.

"Thanks for waiting for me, Naruto," the shadow Hokage said kindly to the yellow-haired boy, who still perched on his shoulder, "But I hope you didn’t hide any glitter bombs this time."

He playfully smiled at Naruto with his eyes, as Naruto shook his head sincerely.

"Dad forbade me," Naruto pouted, while playing with Kakashi’s hair, his small fingers tugging at the bloodstained strands.

"Hey, hey, easy now, that’s not for playing with," Kakashi chided gently, setting Naruto down before leading him to his small bed.

Naruto’s room was a chaotic mess, as only a five-year-old boy's room could be. Toy ninja weapons were scattered about and a few crumpled paper shuriken lay next to a colourful drawing pad. Naruto immediately jumped onto his bed but didn’t cover himself. Instead, he grinned at Kakashi, who, amused, shook his head with his arms crossed.

"Bedtime," Kakashi reminded him seriously and gently tucked Naruto in.

"Niisan... will you tell me a story?" Naruto asked with sparkling eyes, snuggling into his blanket as Kakashi turned off the light.

"A story, huh?" Kakashi nodded indulgently and smiled, though a lump formed in his throat, "Alright."

"Thanks, Kashi-nii! You're the best!"

Naruto beamed at him while Kakashi’s bloodied hands trembled slightly as he sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"Which one do you want to hear?"

Naruto thought for a moment, then his face lit up.

"One about great heroes! Like you and dad!"

Kakashi's heart ached at these words and for a moment, the room felt stifling, too narrow. The floor seemed to sway beneath him, the walls to come towards him. But he forced himself to stay calm.

"Great heroes, huh?", a gentle smile hid behind his mask, "Alright, how about the story of a brave young ninja who won the hearts of everyone he met?"

"Yes!" Naruto exclaimed excitedly, his eyes glowing with curiosity.

Kakashi smiled softly and began to tell the tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a young ninja who never gave up. No matter how difficult the trials, he remained brave. He had a big, kind heart and everyone who met him immediately felt his strength. He was strong in battle, but his greatest strength lay in his friendship. Even the mightiest warriors couldn’t defeat him, because he always believed in the good. In the end, he won the hearts of everyone with his hope, kindness and warming fire. Not with power, but with his determination to always do what was right."

For a moment, he revelled in memories, his mind clouding. The blood on his hands grew clearer. Naruto had already fallen asleep, likely from tiredness at such a late hour and exhausted from the excitement of the day. His breathing was calm and steady.

"Sleep well, Naruto," Kakashi whispered tenderly, brushing his hand through Naruto’s golden hair, while the blood stained his strands.

But the moment faltered imperceptibly and the warmth of the room, the cosy light began to blur and dark shadows crept from the walls. Kakashi's gaze dimmed, his mind drifting away, the reality around him warping. The soft tenderness in his eyes was replaced by a familiar coldness.

Something in the air felt strange, as if a dark veil had settled over the house, an invisible pressure he couldn’t quite place. Slowly, his hand moved to his blade. For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes narrowing as if to test whether he could escape reality. But the madness grew stronger.

His grip tightened around the kunai and in one swift motion, he plunged it into Naruto’s throat. A muffled gurgle escaped the small boy as blood poured out in thick streams, his eyes widening in terror. He gasped for air, but none came.

Only blood. More and more blood.

A triumphant smile tugged at Kakashi’s lips, but it wasn’t his own. Naruto stopped moving and his rattle faded away. And with him, reality shattered, crumbling around Kakashi.

"No... no!" Kushina’s screams echoed through his mind as Naruto lay motionless in his arms.

Tears streamed down Kushina’s face as she rushed towards the bed. Kakashi froze, unable to move, his heart racing as the horrific scene pulsed before him, blood running down the walls.

"Naruto..." Kakashi whispered brokenly.

But in that moment, he felt it. The illusion.

A Genjutsu.

His hands clenched into fists as his consciousness fought against the deception, gathering his thoughts.

"Kai."

With a single sharp burst of chakra, he dispelled the Genjutsu.

Kakashi took calmly a deep breath, blinking as reality returned. Naruto looked up at him, groggy and slightly confused. Alive. Well.

"Kashi? Are you okay?" Naruto asked innocently, his voice sleepy.

"Everything’s fine," Kakashi reassured him and yawning, Naruto nodded.

"Go back to sleep," Kakashi whispered gently, "Sweet dreams."

Naruto’s eyes drifted shut and Kakashi lingered in the darkness of the room, breathing deeply.

Chapter Text

Naruto breathed evenly and deeply, sleeping peacefully in his little bed. Unaware of the deep darkness and schemes that relentlessly demanded blood. The moon, pale, in the quiet of innocence. His steady pulse calmed Kakashi, who still sat beside him, eyes closed, though his fingers dripped with blood.

But Kakashi wasn’t asleep. He listened to the gentle wind and the rustling leaves outside the window. Naruto’s breathing soothed him and with a somber expression, he opened his eyes, recalling the Genjutsu. Deception and illusion. Heartless and arrogant.

What a welcome...

Look underneath the underneath.

He touched Naruto’s forehead gently, while his heart was racing. The bundle of energy had finally found a family, yet even that fact was woven with disappointment. While Sasuke and Sakura were allowed to keep their loving families, Naruto’s was steeped in betrayal.

Minato and Kushina tried to play their roles as parents as best they could, yet Naruto seemed to spend most of his time alone. His father, a Hokage who could be nothing else, his mother, a Jinchuriki, always on guard. Naruto’s watchers always schemed to manipulate him for their own ends. And yet, this fate was still better than before.

But what was the point of comparing better and worse?

Kakashi stood up slowly, casting one last glance at the eternally lonely boy before vanishing without a sound when he sensed their chakra.

How could he, of all people, pass judgment on the arrogance and cruelty of others, considering his own actions?

How could he not judge them when he himself was the greatest scum of this world?

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

The cold numbed her limbs, though she didn’t feel it. The snow shimmered like quicksilver between the gleaming ruby-red pools of blood, but Kushina’s terrified gaze was fixed on Jiraiya. Her tears had frozen on her cheeks as her pulse raced and her thoughts spun. Shadows gathered around her like a protective cloak, threatening to suffocate her.

Minato stood before the horror like a statue, his surprised expression giving way to a blank stare. And for a fleeting moment, a pitch-black darkness sparkled in his eyes, making Fugaku suspicious. They all recognized the faces of the dead, who had wanted to take revenge. Consumed by pain and grief.

Hesitantly, Kushina took a step towards their house, but Jiraiya gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I… I have to…" she began in a trembling voice, yet the words caught in her throat.

"No," Jiraiya said quietly, lowering his head slightly, "for your own sake."

Kushina’s shoulders slumped and her body seemed to collapse under the weight of her worries. More tears streamed silently down her face, while Jiraiya’s eyes reflected the horror he couldn’t spare her. It was little comfort that Jiraiya wasn’t speaking of the threat of the demon within her, but rather worried about what she might see, until she was nothing but an empty shell.

Her eyes burned with the desire to protect her son, but she knew the Hokage would never risk his only Jinchuriki to such danger again. Too important, too valuable. Too great a risk that her containment seal could break with her, letting the Kyuubi escape. She looked pleadingly at her husband, who was coldly analysing the scene around them.

“Kushina,” his levelled voice echoed through the street, making her flinch, “You should go to Mikoto at the Uchiha residence.”

His words left no room for negotiation and with a mere flick of his wrist, her Anbu guards flanked her. She nodded, defeated.

“Please,” she whispered, “make sure nothing happens to Naruto.”

The Anbu guards grabbed her roughly by the arm and led her away. Fugaku looked down, his heart aching at her despair, with no way to help her. He understood her anguish all too well, after all, he himself was a father. But he couldn’t offer her hope when he had none himself. Silently, she looked to Jiraiya, whose tears mirrored her own.

“Please!” she cried brokenly, before they teleported away.

Minato sensed the foreign chakra nearby, which was gradually fading, but there remainded enough to find a few of them and interrogate them. The witnesses to his mistake. A failure he intended to correct. And if necessary, he would steal Kakashi’s mind, turning him into the weapon he had always planned to forge.

A pure shock had shattered his world when he’d heard of Kakashi’s death. But now, seeing how much blood already stained Kakashi’s hands, Minato knew his plan had worked.

“Fugaku,” Minato said, without taking his eyes off the traces, “We need to capture Kakashi alive. It doesn’t matter if he’s damaged, but we need his power. Jiraiya, go with him. I’ll handle the witnesses.”

The Uchiha head nodded solemnly at his former friend and his black eyes glowed faintly in the night. In the next instant, both of them were gone, leaving Minato alone in the blood as a small smile crept across his lips.

“Let’s get started.”

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Fugaku and Jiraiya materialized in front of Naruto’s room, while the house was shrouded in complete darkness. Jiraiya slowly opened the door. At first, a wave of relief washed over him when he saw little Naruto sleeping, but a creeping dread took hold as his gaze fell on the blood on the floor.

He forced himself to stay calm as they cautiously approached the small body, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw Naruto’s blood-stained hair. Fugaku’s eyes widened as he sheathed his kunai and knelt beside the bed, his Sharingan scanning the scene. Holding his hand tensely over Naruto’s face, Fugaku exhaled in relief.

He quickly signalled to Jiraiya that the boy was alive and a weight lifted from his shoulders. Reassured, Jiraiya closed his eyes, letting his head hang as he relaxed from his battle stance. After a few relieved breaths, he raised his head again, his expression serious as Fugaku’s heavenly eyes scanned their surroundings.

“When was Kakashi last here?” Jiraiya signed and tightened his grip on his kunai again.

Confused, Fugaku shook his head and Jiraiya raised his eyebrows questioningly before the Uchiha hesitantly responded.

“If I’m right, Hatake never left,” Fugaku signed with concern, “He’s still here.”

With ease, he activated his Sharingan and casted intricate Genjutsus over the entire house, something Kakashi hadn’t seen in many decades. Immediately, Jiraiya shifted back into a fighting stance, surveying their surroundings. With short, concise hand signals, they split up so that Fugaku searched the house and Jiraiya stayed with Naruto. Precise, fast, focused.

In the shadows, Kakashi watched as Fugaku melded perfectly with the darkness, disappearing into nothingness. But before Kakashi could make a move, he felt a cold blade press against his skin. In the same moment, two heavenly eyes engulfed him, stripping away his senses, pulling him into the tar of his mind. Until only his thoughts remained in the darkness.

“Tell me, why are you hiding?” whispered the Uchiha clan leader.

Kakashi smiled weakly.

“I’ve committed no crime, merely defended myself,” he replied coolly, “And you, of all people, know why it’s better to wait in the shadows than face imminent death.”

“No one suspects your innocence yet. I could take this opportunity to rid myself of you here and now,” Fugaku lied calmly, “Your death would certainly solve a few problems, especially with the Izanagi rumours.”

Kakashi’s thoughts darkened and just as Fugaku was about to deliver the killing blow, he hesitated imperceptibly. In the next moment, Fugaku withdrew his Genjutsu on Kakashi’s mind and bewildered, Kakashi opened his eyes, finding himself kneeling unguarded on the floor. Fugaku’s red Mangekyou Sharingan eyes spun lazily and the realization dawned on him. So much time had passed and in the brief time before the Uchiha massacre, Kakashi had never seen the clan heads Mangekyou Sharingan. Its power, which was more fearsome than even the reputation of the Yellow Flash.

Fugaku, the Wicked Eye.

His crimson eyes saw into the future and his illusions could wound a person in the true reality.

“What did you see?” Kakashi asked quietly, his voice full of gloom.

Slowly, Fugaku’s piercing gaze shifted to the White Death, his eyes narrowing calculatingly. He was silent for a long moment.

“Run.”

Suspicious, Kakashi stood up.

“Run,” Fugaku repeated urgently, “And for all our sakes, I hope Minato doesn’t get his hands on you. The night is still young.”

Carefully, Kakashi stepped towards the window.

“Meet me at the east gate of the Uchiha district in a few hours, but make sure no one follows you,” Fugaku warned.

Kakashi hesitated, then nodded before disappearing under the stars. For a moment, Fugaku stared at the emptiness Kakashi had left behind and flared his chakra to warn Jiraiya of his arrival, so he wouldn’t slit Fugaku’s throat the moment he flickered next to him. His thoughts swirled and silently, he shook his head as Jiraiya’s expression deepened with worry.

“He’s gone.”

The ice glistened softly on the rooftops and streets. Heavy lay the white veil of deception. And the pale light of the sickle moon promised nothing but endless lies.

Kakashi wandered the streets. Aimlessly and yet purposefully. Like a ghostly shadow carrying with it an odyssey of its own. Moving fluidly, almost effortlessly, he hid between madness and clarity, while a fever burned deep within him. Kakashi was alive, and yet not.

Whole, and yet torn.

Just when he thought he understood a part of it, Fugaku questioned everything again. Just when he might have been a loyal shinobi, his calm facade shattered and he followed Fugaku's wavering words without hesitation. Kakashi darted through the night, his thoughts spinning. Someone was pulling the strings and it wasn’t Minato or Danzo. Who else?

Who else?

He didn’t understand. Not completely, as if a crucial piece of the puzzle was missing, as if he couldn’t truly recognize the world he was in. As though this world was a mirror that had been shattered for far too long, allowing the darkness to creep in between its fragments.

He needed information.

Answers.

Truth.

Silently, Kakashi slipped into a shadow between the rooftops as he sensed a familiar chakra signature, dangerously close and moving toward him. His genjutsu kept unwanted gazes away, but his blade was ready to strike should they discover him.

His eyes sharpened as they fell upon two blood-soaked Anbu, or rather, Root members, dragging themselves sluggishly across the rooftops. Both of them were of small stature, but Kakashi would recognize that chakra anywhere.

Tenzou.

Here, he was still nameless, except for the pale tinge of Kinoe. Silently, Kakashi pressed deeper into the darkness, while studying their uneasy movements. Every mission claimed blood, they all demanded secrets that would never be revealed and yet there was a particular nervousness clinging to them as their masks remained rigid and their eyes wide. They were afraid.

Afraid of what they had done.

Afraid of what they had become.

And Kakashi understood that feeling all too well.

Without sparing him a glance, the ghosts passed by and Kakashi quickly flickered onward across the roofs, hidden in the darkness, while leaving tender touches of his chakra scattered in chaotic patterns. He felt the heat clinging to him as he slowly recognised his surroundings from so long ago and curiosity stopped him in his tracks.

A breath of nostalgia embraced him as his gaze fell upon a distant, illuminated room where a little girl with cherry blossom-coloured hair lay on her stomach, cheerfully flipping through a book. Sakura’s father, Haruno Kizashi, had once been Hokage in another parallel reality and both he and his wife, Mebuki, had died on a mission, leaving Sakura an orphan.

But before Kakashi could linger in more bittersweet memories, his expression darkened as he sensed Orochimaru’s flaring chakra. And if he could feel it, so could the others. Grimly, Kakashi glanced into the distance and hurried. Several units were already nervously racing toward the forest’s edge, but Kakashi was faster in this race against time. After all, he had not been the student of the Yellow Flash and the teacher and comrade of the Neo-Sannin for nothing.

Orochimaru surveyed his surroundings ferociously until he noticed a subtle flicker in his peripheral vision, though he saw nothing. His displeasure grew and with a qhick hand sign, he dispelled the genjutsu, staring into the wolfish eyes of Kakashi, who stood on a high branch. With another hand signal, both vanished without a trace.

"Kakashi," Orochimaru said quietly, almost with a hiss, "It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?"

A sardonic smile played on his lips as he intensely scrutinised the young Hatake before him, while Kakashi let his eyes roam over Orochimaru’s research facility.

"That was reckless," Kakashi growled, his tone sharp.

Expressionless, Orochimaru strode past him.

"I must admit, you surprised me. Tell me, how is it that a Sannin like me couldn’t track down an insignificant Jonin like you?"

His eyes gleamed with curiosity. And suddenly, he slammed his hand angrily on the medical table in front of him, the sound echoing through the building.

"Because of your new concealment skills, I hardly had any other choice but to contact you this way, did I?!" Orochimaru hissed menacingly.

His gaze pierced through Kakashi, absorbing everything. The dissociation in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands, the fever sweat on his forehead. Orochimaru recognised the signs and, sighing, closed his eyes.

"You’ve picked one of the worst possible moments, snake," Kakashi hissed unrestrained.

Dramatically, Orochimaru raised his hands, gesturing tiredly.

"And what happened, may I ask? From the look of you," he pointed to Kakashi’s grotesque scars, "I assume you didn’t just survive but that spineless Namikaze filth used darker arts?"

His eyes sparkled hungrily, while Kakashi sat with his legs spread, studying his sword indifferently.

"Not just the Hokage, but all of them. The whole of Konoha has gone mad," Kakashi said, feeling an overwhelming sense of age.

Amused, Orochimaru sat down as well. He was no longer the long-time friend Kakashi knew, but he still exuded that certain presence.

"Minato is unworthy of being Hokage," Kakashi said, causing Orochimaru to lean back in surprise, "He brought this dead body back to life without taking the slightest adequate precautions. Danzo’s pet meddled with my mind and if the council finds out I know more than they want, they’ll condemn me not just for the 31 deaths but also for the disaster in the Land of Water."

Orochimaru raised an eyebrow and grinned, entertained.

"You?" he asked incredulously, with a hint of respect, "You really killed them all in plain sight? Go on. It seems the night will be more hilarious than I thought."

Kakashi snorted reproachfully before continuing.

"I have no idea how many Minato planned this resurrection with, but it was utter chaos. The council was utterly unprepared. One failed brainwashing and one murder later and here I am. On the run," said Kakashi, knowing that Orochimaru could do anything with this information.

But by now it didn't matter how many want to kill me anyway.

A silence followed, though too brief to be suspicious.

"A ghost that is not free. A prisoner of his own flesh. How… fascinating."

For a moment, Orochimaru stared thoughtfully off into the distance, still amused.

"This is truly an unexpected turn of events. They wanted to force the image of the traitor on you earlier, but I didn’t expect them to act so openly now. Then again, I also didn’t expect you to spill Leaf nin blood while they watch. I’d like to take a blood sample and run some tests."

"No samples, no tests," Kakashi warned pointedly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Orochimaru’s eyes glimmered with hunger.

"Have you prepared everything?" Kakashi asked, hoping to extract information, while he tried to keep his breathing steady under the feverish heat.

"The seeds of discord have been sown and the civil war in the Land of Mist rages on. Signs of instability are also emerging in the Land of Lightning," Orochimaru calmly explained, never taking his eyes off him, "My snakes have already tracked down the cult trying to awaken the Corrupted Divine Tree."

Kakashi stared blankly at him.

"Where are they?"

"They have their nest near Kumogakure, almost at the birthplace of your clan. Your mother has joined forces with the Dark Thunder Group and they’re raiding the villages along the chakra line in Snow."

He almost stopped breathing. It was like a shock coursing through Kakashis body.

My mother... is alive?

Silence fell between them, while the night mocked him mischievously and the world spun. Discreetly, Kakashi hid his trembling hands in his lap as Orochimaru leaned slowly forward.

"You’re not quite yourself, are you?" Orochimaru whispered silkily, caressing Kakashi’s cheek threateningly, "You never truly escaped."

Kakashi’s head pounded with pain.

"You no longer know what you were trying to achieve."

Orochimaru wasn’t asking. He knew. He knew. Kakashi felt the ground sway beneath him. The images before his eyes blurred.

"What… do you want from me?" he forced the words from his dry mouth.

He was insane, he was sure of it. Everything he had believed, everything he had seen - was it all just an illusion?

"Don’t worry," the snake hissed deviously, locking eyes with him, "I will take my payment when the time is right."

"You’re not really here, Kakashi," Orochimaru whispered. "Or maybe… you never were."

A cold laugh echoed through the darkness and Kakashi felt reality shatter around him. He was trapped, not just in his body, but in a web of lies, secrets and deception.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Deep worry lines etched Jiraiya's face as he walked through the solemn halls of the T&I complex. It troubled him that they had no answers, only questions, and each seemed darker than the last. The cries of the tortured echoed through the soulless corridors, screams that haunted even the most battle-hardened war shinobi for the rest of their lives.

Down here were the guilty and the innocent, whose only crime was knowledge. Those who were tortured to madness; tortured simply because of the treachery of others.

The closer he got to the hideout, the more he could feel the dark chakra. Minato stood in front of a man, brutally pressing him against the wall. The rooms were cold and dark, while the Anbu prisoner trembled in pain and fear. Blood dripped from his face and his eyes were wide with terror.

Roughly, Minato let go of the Anbu, who collapsed to the floor, sobbing and slowly, Minato turned to Jiraiya, his blue eyes burning.

“I managed to track down one of them,” Minato said, his voice unusually cold; a tone Jiraiya rarely heard from him, “He was nearby. He knows what happened.”

For a long moment, his eyes rested on the prisoner.

“And he will tell me.”

The Anbu scrambled backward, breathing frantically.

"I’ve already told you! They killed him! Killed him!" he begged, desperate to bargain for his life with the information he had.

A bright glow surrounded Minato's hands as he charged his Rasengan. Not to kill the witness, but rather to drive the pain deep into the Anbu's bones until he broke. Jiraiya watched as his student pressed the Rasengan against the prisoner's skin, the man’s screams of agony filling the room.

“Minato…” Jiraiya began carefully, stepping forward, “Are you sure this is the right way?”

Without stopping, Minato shot him a sharp look.

“We don’t have time, Jiraiya. Two of our ninja, good Anbu, are dead. Kakashi is… different. And that white chakra pillar? We don’t know what it means. I need answers.”

The prisoner groaned as Minato pressed the Rasengan against him once more. Jiraiya could see the desperation in the man’s eyes and though he didn’t approve of his student’s methods, he knew they were in a situation where hesitation could cost them dearly.

“Listen,” he said, stepping beside his student, “You’re right, something’s wrong here. But it’s not just the white chakra pillar or Kakashi’s return. I… I feel like we’re dealing with something far beyond what we understand.”

Minato paused, casting Jiraiya a piercing look.

“Is that so?”

His voice was almost too calm, a cold shadow flitting across his face before he turned back to the Anbu prisoner. Jiraiya frowned and ran a hand through his white hair as he searched for the right words.

“I know the consequences of death’s touches. Sarutobi told me about it and Orochimaru… well, he studied these things. What has happened to Kakashi, it’s not normal.”

Minato listened intently, but his eyes betrayed little emotion.

“The witness said that Ebisu and Hayate tried to kill him,” Jiraiya sighed before continuing, “That would explain all the blood. What… What if…”

Jiraiya shook his head slightly and Minato straightened up, scrutinizing his sensei intensely.

“He has already overcome death once. Not only just through the modified Edo Tensei, but by his own will. What if we can’t kill him anymore, Minato?”

His question hung heavily in the air and Minato took a step back, contemplating Jiraiya’s words. A proudness crossed his eyes, something Jiraiya couldn’t quite grasp.

“Death is dangerous, but life even more so,” Jiraiya warned sharply.

Minato nodded slowly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating.

“Interesting,” he breathed quietly, as if thinking about something entirely different, “So you think there are forces at play here older than death?”

There was a slight inflection in his voice, as though this was a consideration he had already entertained. And perhaps even already knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Jiraiya whispered in defeat, “But one thing’s certain. We’re dealing with a power far greater than anything we’ve imagined. We don’t understand what’s happening here.”

The prisoner’s chest rose and fell weakly, his shallow breaths echoing against the stone. Minato stepped closer to him, gripping his throat once more.

“Tell me,” he hissed, his voice now distant, “What did you see? What do you know about the white chakra pillar?”

The Anbu swallowed hard, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

“I… I don’t know much,” he gasped, “Just that… they stabbed him… and everything went quiet. And then… then there was this… pillar. White… so bright… I couldn’t see anything… I fled as fast as I could.”

Enraged, Minato glared at the man, but Jiraiya placed gently a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, “We’ve learned all we can.”

The Hokage stepped back, his chest rising and falling quickly, but there was a dark glow in his eyes.

“I want answers, Jiraiya,” he said softly but firmly, “And I will beat them out of anyone who stands in my way until I get them.”

Jiraiya remained silent as his gaze weighed heavily on Minato. His Hokage. Or what was left of him. And he was hiding something from him. The Toad Sannin nodded slowly and stepped back regretfully, before he disappeared back into the darkness.

Chapter Text

“̶Y̷o̵u̸’̴r̵e̶ ̷n̵o̶t̴ ̸q̸u̴i̸t̷e̶ ̴y̵o̴u̸r̵s̶e̸l̶f̸,̷ ̵a̸r̸e̴ ̶y̸o̸u̶?̶”̷

…̴a̴r̴e̶ ̸y̴o̴u̸?̵

I never was.

Orochimaru’s voice dripped like sweet honey into the yawning void of silence. His hand brushed against Kakashi’s scarred cheek in a gesture that promised tenderness and violence in equal measure. Fingers glided over the grotesque scars that had stolen Kakashi’s sight. Unwelcome memories of countless battles. The touch burning like frost, igniting a buried hatred.

Y̵o̶u̵ ̸n̵e̸v̷e̷r̸ ̵t̸r̴u̸l̸y̶ ̸e̷s̷c̷a̸p̸e̸d̴.̵

I know.

A hideous echo of his own whisper.

The words drove into him like thorns. His head throbbed, as if his mind sought to shatter itself. The ground beneath his feet suddenly seemed wide, empty, infinite. An ocean of black. Waves of guilt and fear.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

The rain drummed against the windows of the Uchiha estate, the night sky growing darker under the gathering clouds. Kushina stood at the gates, cold seeping into her very bones. A soft wind whistled over the white, snow-covered roofs, the chill prickling her cheeks like tiny sparks on her skin. As she stood quietly beneath the pale moonlight, she felt small, fragile.

Icicles adorned the branches and grass like delicate works of art, sculpted by frost’s relentless hand. Beautiful, yet so cold. The world seemed frozen, trapped in a moment of pure stillness. Yet with every passing second, that winter quiet drifted farther away, leaving a hollow ache in her soul.

Then the door creaked open and a warm glow spilled out from inside.

“Kushina...” Mikoto’s voice whispered into the cold, her face a mix of surprise and worry.

The moment Kushina met Mikoto’s eyes, the pain in her heart erupted, a searing despair that had haunted her for days. The crushing weight of loss bore down on her and tears burned in her eyes. The cold that had gripped her in icy fingers melted under Mikoto’s warm embrace.

Slowly, Mikoto guided her inside, her feet heavy as though shackled to an invisible burden. Mikoto silently closed the door behind them and led her to the living room. The soft glow of the fireplace danced along the walls, filling the space with the comforting scent of fresh wood and smoke. Kushina watched the gentle flames, her chest tightening as tears streamed down her face. A sob broke free, her legs giving out as she collapsed, weeping in Mikoto’s arms.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Kakashi sat there.

A table separated him from his supposed companion. And yet... no one sat there.

Only a face. And then another. A ceaseless flow of shapes, eyes, mouths. A ghostly parade of memories and strangeness.

He inhaled. The air was heavy, still, cold as a deceptive winter night. The face before him was Orochimaru’s. Childlike delight flickered in those golden eyes before transforming into sparks of pain. Orochimaru laughed, the sound echoing until it dissolved into a mute world of absurdity.

The lips moved, forming words Kakashi couldn’t hear.

He wanted to look away, but the face held him fast, like an invisible hand clutching his throat and tearing out his heart.

A blink and the face wasn’t Orochimaru anymore.

Rin.

Her eyes were soft, like the touch of spring rain, yet Kakashi’s chest ached with the crushing grief that bloomed like thorns between them.

“I’m here,” her lips seemed to say.

But Kakashi could see it in her eyes. Her gaze betrayed her, betrayed him.

Why not there? Why not then?

His body sat frozen, bound to this endless, merciless moment. He had no answers for her. So he remained silent until only emptiness remained.

The faces shifted, replaced by the shadow of a familiar guilt. Obito.

His grin was crooked, fragile. A prankster, a friend. Fire burned in his eyes, flames Kakashi could never extinguish.

“You were my light,” Obito’s voice rippled like sound underwater, “but I became your darkness. And you became mine.”

Kakashi didn’t want to argue, just wanted to say they had tried to survive. But what had survived? Them, or just their masks?

The faces spun faster.

Tsunade. Her stern expression crumbled into tears.

Sakura. Her sorrow ran so deep, even her iron will couldn’t bear it.

Minato. A father figure whose warmth dissolved into the shadows of loss.

Each face appeared. Each face vanished. A whirlpool of life and death, love and abandonment. And Kakashi sat there, silent, letting the wave wash over him.

The faces grew stranger. Eyes without pupils. Smiles too wide. Skin that seemed to melt, reforming into grotesque shapes.

The silence had changed. It was no longer quiet but screamed with the weight of all Kakashi couldn’t say.

Then came a face that wasn’t a face. Just a mirror, a hollow reflection.

Kakashi stared into it. He saw his own mask. He saw himself.

A shadow, melting into the others.

“̴̰͝W̷̜̉h̶͍́ǫ̵̓ ̶̨̇a̵̼͆ŗ̵̊ė̷̖ ̷̳͝ẙ̴̙o̸͈̿u̸̹͊?̶̛͉”̵͚̌

"Who are you?" he wanted to ask. But the mirror shattered first.

"Who are you?"

Kakashi couldn’t answer as the world around him began to fade. The silence grew heavier, denser, like a fog that drained the air from his lungs.

And then... the last face appeared.

A child’s face. Innocent eyes, wide and questioning, staring at him. Eyes that belonged to everyone he had ever known. A smile, neither kind nor cruel. Merely a smile.

“You’re here.”

A single tear rolled down Kakashi’s cheek as he gazed into the child’s shining gray eyes. He tried to reach out, to hold those small, cold hands in his own, but they dissolved into nothingness. As if the child had never existed. Only a faint echo remained.

“̵̡͋W̷̳̕h̴̪̀y̶͎͑ ̸̧̉d̷̬͆ö̸͙́ ̵̰͊y̸̜̓o̶̲͝ú̵͓ ̴͈̑h̸̘͐ã̸̜ṯ̷͆e̴̗̐ ̵̳̔m̷̱̔e̵͔͝ ̸̠͘s̶̞͆ŏ̴̮ ̸͕̄m̸͓͝ṵ̸̑c̸̠̈́h̶̛͇?̴͉̑"̶͔͗

It reminded Kakashi that the table before him was empty. That there had never been anyone across from him. Only the faces in his mind. Only the voices he carried.

He exhaled and the faces blurred. The room emptied, and for a fleeting moment, Kakashi was alone. Alone in perfect silence, his breath hanging in the crisp, icy air. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in a peace he hadn’t dared to seek.

But then it came.

A laugh. Deep, throaty. A sound that fractured the silence like a jagged tear.

It echoed unnaturally long, without an origin. Weary, Kakashi opened his fevered eyes. Orochimaru. He sat across from him, his golden eyes gleaming with insatiable hunger.

“So serious, Kakashi,” Orochimaru murmured, his tone sweet as serpent’s venom, soft as a breeze through ancient graves.

“Still searching for your peace? Your truth?”

His hunger seeped from the walls, poisoning the air. Kakashi said nothing, but he could feel it wrapping around him.

“Do you see it?” Orochimaru whispered, his eyes piercing Kakashi’s, wild and unrelenting. “How thin the line is… between worlds?”

I̶ ̷w̶o̵n̸d̸e̴r̷…̷

"I wonder…"

“I wonder…” Orochimaru’s voice echoed through infinity.

A creeping mockery that shattered the silence, slicing through the marrow of reality. An echo, indulgent, seductive, yet rotting beneath its rusted scorn. The pounding in Kakashi’s skull was unbearable as the serpent sage fixed him with his golden gaze, full as the moon on nights of blood.

“…if you remember why you sought me out.”

The silken whisper repeated itself, splintering, winding through Kakashi’s thoughts like thick fog laced with poison. It was not a question. Orochimaru knew. He knew too well.
He was exposed.

"Why you came to me…? You, who were so convinced of your own justice?"

Why you came to me…?

W̸h̸y̷ ̸y̵o̶u̵ ̵c̶am̴e̴ ̵t̵o̵ ̷m̵e̴…̷

Orochimaru’s sharp laughter rang through the shards of his own madness, while the cold seeped into Kakashi’s bones, making him shiver. Wearily, he pressed his palms against his burning eyes. His head was heavy, his throat dry. But darkness offered no solace, it slithered into the room like a web of shimmering, unsettling mist.

Too sharp. Too cold. Too blinding.

This isn’t r̴e̷a̶l̷.

A narrow, dangerous expression flickered across Orochimaru’s face.

“I know why,” he said, softer now, hypnotic. “You’re not here because you had to be. You’re here because you wanted to be. Because you wanted to destroy yourself. And I…”

A spark ignited in Kakashi’s gaze, a flicker of quiet, raw fury, merging with the fever and exhaustion, suffocating him. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but the serpent sage continued.

“I merely helped you along the way.”

The whisper of his words lingered, while Kakashi’s gaze fell to his trembling hands.

Relentless.

The pure light filtering through lush leaves on the first morning of spring, touching his fallen family, his radiant students, once breathing life into his hollowed soul, now revealed the truth. The hatred.

Their laughter echoed in the emptiness of these white, sterile, lifeless walls.

And it filled Kakashi with unrelenting rage.

“Always the same questions… never any answers,” he sighed, bored. “Just questions and questions and questions, lost within their own shadow.”

It will never end.

The words slipped from his cracked lips, aimless, like fragments of lost souls drifting in the realm of the dead. The taste of ash lingered on his tongue. Orochimaru sighed theatrically and waved a lazy hand.

“Don’t play games with me, Ka-ka-shii. If I wanted, I could—”

“C̸o̵u̸l̴d̶ ̷y̶o̵u̵?̴”

The illusion shattered into fragments.

A pulse, sharp like a shock through his bones and Orochimaru’s watchful gaze flickered toward the wild lightning crackling in Kakashi’s hand, illuminating the kaleidoscopic glass of the ceiling in deep purple. Orochimaru stepped closer, his movements fluid.

“Look at you,” his voice was silken, razor-sharp. “Look at you. You are a shadow of yourself, a dying star, trying to illuminate the sky one last time before it burns out. Your body burns with fever, your mind wavers like a moth drawn to the flame. Have you ever stopped, Kakashi, to wonder if what you’re chasing has long since turned to ash?”

Patience.

The space around them distorted, as if ghosts crawled along the walls, and the scent of decayed earth churned his stomach. Slowly, Kakashi lifted his head, staring at Orochimaru with the faintest trace of a smile. The Sannin before him was steeped in the darkness of a god unworthy of worship.

Too cold. It was too cold.

“If your own life means little to you, then perhaps…” Kakashi’s voice dropped into a quiet threat as he let his Raikiri fade, rising to his feet, his long shadow stretching against the walls, “Perhaps your family will suffice.”

Orochimaru blinked, his cruel smile faltering.

“I have no family,” he murmured, confused, then smirked.

“The life of your unborn son would be a good place to start,” Kakashi stated flatly, watching as the greed in Orochimaru’s eyes was snuffed out.

For a moment, the serpent sage was silent. Kakashi’s gaze remained steady, scrutinizing him as Orochimaru’s golden eyes flickered with something unexpected. Desperation.

“My…” Orochimaru’s voice was quiet, “I have… a son?”

Kakashi observed him keenly. He only needed to stall Orochimaru, to gather what he could before departing for the Uchiha. Before he saw Sasuke’s quiet, hesitant smile once more. Soft, warm, freed, if only for a moment, from the weight of vengeance that clung to him like a shadow.

Not yet, not yet had Kakashi stained his hands with all their blood. Not yet had they lost the right to look upon the sun without being burned.

Kakashi shook his head in feigned disappointment, his dead, gray eyes piercing through Orochimaru’s crumbling gold.

“Not yet,” he clarified, “And I won’t hesitate to trade his life for another. Isn’t that the natural order of things? Wolves eat snakes.”

And with pleasure Kakashi watched the spark of uncertainty in Orochimaru’s gaze spread into a wildfire of fear.

Dark shadows crawled along the damp walls of the laboratory, twisting into distorted silhouettes as if eavesdropping on the conversation. The candlelight flickered restlessly, casting trembling patterns upon the cold stone floor. A sickly, metallic scent hung in the air. An echo of past experiments that had seeped deep into the hideout’s walls.

Orochimaru stood motionless, Kakashi’s words drilling slowly into his mind like venom, their full effect delayed but inevitable.

The lone visible eye of the Copy Ninja burned with an eerie intensity, as though he could see straight through Orochimaru, reducing him to nothing more than another enigmatic variable in a complex equation. His movements were smoother than ever, his presence a quiet yet undeniable force. It wasn’t just the calm of a man hardened by decades of experience. No, this was something else. Something that made Orochimaru’s tongue flick over his dry lips in unconscious reaction.

The masked silver-haired spirit played idly with a kunai, its blade catching the weak light as he finally broke the silence.

“So, tell me more about your Kakashi”, he said, his voice disturbingly calm.

A fleeting smirk ghosted across Orochimaru’s pale lips, a mixture of amusement and wary intrigue.

“Interesting,” he murmured, “Is this some kind of trick, Kakashi? I wasn’t aware you had developed a sense of humor.”

Kakashi said nothing. He merely watched, that unreadable gaze concealing more than it revealed. A slow, creeping sensation ran down Orochimaru’s spine. Kakashi wasn’t lying, of that, he was certain. And yet, the notion itself was absurd. Ridiculous.

Orochimaru had never concerned himself with such trivialities as family. A child? His child?

But if it were true… Then that would mean...

A smile tugged at his lips once more, this time sharper, colder, more contemplative. It was not the smile of a man pleased by the revelation.

“Who is the mother?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than he had intended.

If only he could protect her from Kakashi…

“Does it matter?” Kakashi’s tone was cutting, “He is your flesh and blood.”

A silent pressure settled upon Orochimaru’s chest. Thoughts raced through his mind. He knew himself well enough to understand that any interest he had in an heir was never sentimental. A legacy, a perfect vessel, a means to perpetuate himself in another form… these were rational considerations he could have accepted. But this… this was different.

Kakashi wasn’t speaking of a mere host.

He was speaking of a son. A real, thinking, feeling existence. A being with his own will. His own soul.

“Time travel, then?” Orochimaru’s tongue flicked over his lips once more, but his voice faltered when Kakashi shook his head.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Somewhere in the darkness, a drop of water fell from the ceiling, merging with the faint crackle of candle wicks, making the shadows dance restlessly along the walls.

“More likely an alternate reality,” Kakashi continued at last, “But there are… enough similarities.”

A pensive silence settled between them, broken only by the wavering flame.

“And what about you, Kakashi?” Orochimaru’s voice turned softer, almost playful, “Do you have children?”

Kakashi’s expression remained impassive, but his lone eye narrowed ever so slightly.

“No.”

A quiet chuckle escaped the Sannin, but it lacked its usual bite.

“For someone like you, someone who has survived all these years… and yet you’ve left behind nothing?”

“Someone like me leaves no heirs,” Kakashi said flatly.

Something about those words silenced Orochimaru. Not because they surprised him, but because they left a bitter aftertaste in his mind.

“What is he like?” Orochimaru asked after a pause, his tone contemplative.

“What do you know of my…” he hesitated, the word foreign on his tongue, “…son?”

Kakashi studied him for a long moment before finally responding.

“Enough to know that you would die for him.”

Something dark stirred within Orochimaru’s chest. Was it pride? Annoyance? Curiosity? Perhaps all of them at once. But beneath it all, there was another sensation.

A cold, sharp whisper of loss.

He did not know this child. And yet Kakashi could take away his chance to ever know him. Whatever Kakashi was doing in this reality, it was final. Orochimaru would never hear his son’s voice, never know how he thought, how he smiled. Never know if the boy shared his fascination with jutsu. If he resented him or revered him.

For the first time in years, something unfamiliar crept into Orochimaru’s thoughts, an unease that he could not simply dismiss.

Kakashi’s voice cut through his reflection.

“Now it’s my turn.”

His gaze was unwavering.

“Tell me more about this world.”

Chapter Text

Orochimaru’s golden eyes gleamed in the flickering candlelight, as though the flames themselves had nested within them. Dancing, watchful, ancient. The shadow of the fire twitched across his sharp cheekbones like a serpent’s tongue, as he let Kakashi’s words sink into him.

Die? For something as fleeting as family?

A faint wind slithered through the cracks in the ancient walls, carrying with it the rotten stench of decay and blood; as if the chamber itself were a tomb, straining to breathe. Outside, snowflakes descended slowly through the midnight air, each one a silent beat in a world holding its breath.

Kakashi returned Orochimaru’s gaze with the unshaken calm of a man who had long since lost everything. The world around him swayed softly, as though aboard a ship in storm-tossed waters, and the ground beneath threatened to vanish. His fingers clutched the back of the chair, knuckles white, as if to remind himself that he still existed.

The metallic scent of fresh iron, sharp as from an open wound, mingled with the musty odour of rotting leaves. Kakashi slowly turned the kunai between his fingers, the faint rasp of metal-on-metal barely audible, yet palpable, like a heartbeat beneath the skin.

“Your knowledge in exchange for his life,” Kakashi rasped, his voice like sandpaper slicing through the silence.

Orochimaru did not answer. Instead, his gaze lingered on the smooth, pale surface of the table before him, where the candlelight shimmered like reflections upon newly fallen bone.

“…which one of them?” whispered a voice inside Kakashi, no louder than the rustling of parchment upon which the orders of war are written.

A second, darker voice replied, “You are the one who survives. The one who yields. The one who betrayed them all.”

A brittle laugh, like cracking ice, escaped Orochimaru’s lips. It was cold, joyless. Not laughter, but judgement. His pupils narrowed into slits, sharp as blades, an expression that spoke more than any words could.

He leaned back slowly, fingers interlaced like a spider’s web. His golden eyes half-closed, as if savouring every syllable of Kakashi’s question upon his tongue.

“This world…” he began, and his voice creaked like ancient parchment upon which lies had once been penned, “...is a chimera. Stitched from fragments of shattered realities. Woven with falsehoods older than all our suffering.”

Kakashi wasn’t surprised that Orochimaru began at the dawn of the world, he was a scientist in soul and spirit after all. A shinobi who had honed the art of information into obsession. Kakashi would receive answers to questions he had never asked and they would sting.

He rose slowly, his movements dulled as though through water, and walked through the dim laboratory. Every footstep echoed, muffled by the shadows curling around his silhouette like whispering ghosts. The candles threw fleeting patterns of light and dark upon the tiled walls, causing the steel instruments to gleam like cold splinters of a forgotten era. His silhouette wavered in the shifting light, distorted, as if it no longer fully belonged to this world.

His gaze caught on a spidering crack in the wall, a pulsating, living network like the veins of a dying leaf. The heat in his body had become unbearable, as though molten rock had settled in his veins. Each breath felt like the inhalation of burning shards.

“I never met Tobirama myself,” Orochimaru murmured, lost in thought, as he lifted a chakra crystal.

The crystalline relic shimmered with a ghostly blue light, as if a trapped flame flickered inside.

“But he sought the truth behind our chakra… behind Kekkei Genkai and the ancient gods. It didn’t begin with Kaguya. Nor even Hagoromo. It began with something that could not be killed. Something that hid in the dreams of men. In their fear. In their longing. And, eventually… in their jutsu.”

Outside, light fractured upon the frozen rooftiles. Glassy reflections danced like gold and silver over the snow-drenched dark. Snowflakes fell soundlessly, intricate ice crystals glowing like fallen stars. Beauty that deceived. Elegancy that betrayed.

Kakashi watched Orochimaru in silence. The differences between their worlds ran deeper than he’d imagined and yet they echoed. The world of shinobi had never been pure. Never organic. It was a construct. And instead of connecting through Hagoromo’s Ninshu, something worse than Kaguya’s deception had long since taken root, binding them.

“He was the first – and until now, the only – to break the boundary of death with his Edo Tensei,” Orochimaru continued, “And whatever truth he found… according to Hiruzen, he never uttered a word of it again.”

Kakashi’s eyes drifted back to Orochimaru. Between flame and shadow, the lines on his face seemed to shift, as if the mask of humanity was beginning to peel away. The fire left streaks of light in the air, as though time itself were dripping, slow and pained. Voices whispered at the edge of Kakashi’s mind, too many to name. A child. A man. An echo that settled like ash upon his thoughts.

“In his writings,” Orochimaru said, “Tobirama posited that chakra was not an inner light, nor energy. But a black current, flowing through dimensions, catalysing them. It only feels like energy because our minds demand it so. A manifestation of something other. A memory of something that should never have been.”

A manifestation of something far more alien.

A legacy carried through blood.

An illusion of the mind.

Orochimaru turned to him again, more serious now. Kakashi knew that such research wasn’t forbidden, but confronting the origin, the truth, was a perilous pursuit. Especially when it threatened change.

Still, none of it truly answered his question. Yet he waited, patient, until Orochimaru completed his thread.

“You came to me once. A wolf without a pack. Lost, driven by rage and despair. I showed you power. Gave you a glimpse into the depths. I taught you Tobirama’s legacy. And now you stand here… hollow of heart, yet with a soul aflame.”

“B̸e̵c̸a̵u̶s̶e̶ ̸y̸o̵u̶ ̵w̶a̵n̴t̶e̵d̶ ̴i̷t̵.̴ ̶B̴e̷c̵a̵u̶s̶e̴ ̴y̸o̷u̵ ̷w̶a̸n̸t̶e̷d̶ ̶t̵o̸ ̷d̶e̷s̸t̸r̷o̴y̵ ̴y̵o̷u̷r̴s̷e̶l̶f̷.”̶

The words echoed, warped, fragmented like glass beneath deep water. A tremor. A fracture. The walls breathed. Black rivulets bled from the cracks. For a moment, Kakashi didn’t know where he was. And that unsettled him most.

Orochimaru chuckled softly, dismissively, waving the conversation away like a nuisance as he strode past Kakashi. The sound scraped against Kakashi’s nerves like cold steel.

“You brought me new test subjects, tirelessly. So diligent…” Orochimaru turned halfway, golden eyes aglow in the candlelight, savouring some unspoken memory, “Surely, there were Konoha children among them.”

A shiver gripped Kakashi. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the growing revulsion within. The room seemed to shrink, air thickening, shadows stretching like grasping fingers. His thoughts spun like ash in a storm.

Konoha children.

An echo that would not fade.

What had that version of him been thinking?

He rubbed his temples, fevered and restless. An emptiness grew inside him, along with a gnawing dread. It gnawed. Hungry.

How far had he fallen?

How much blackened blood clung to his hands?

Orochimaru sighed with dramatic disinterest, shrugging his pale shoulders.

“Regardless… you’ve carried on Tobirama’s legacy. You’ve studied. Sought an answer to a question this world never asked.”

Kakashi loathed the man he had once been. And yet… he was that man.

Every memory that surfaced from the mists of the past cut deeper than the last. No light passed through him now without also casting shadows, clinging to his thoughts like dried blood. More proof of his own corruption.

Was there a punishment that could ever match this shame?

Would it not have been better to remain blind?

To lose oneself in the warm shroud of ignorance, rather than look into every mirror and see only filth and gore?

Orochimaru said nothing. His silhouette, cast by the wavering light, resembled a sculpture of ash and bone.

Kakashi’s gaze sank into the flickering candle flame; its glow threw dancing shadows along the walls, as though preparing to devour him. The flame seemed to breathe, to tremble; as though it too sensed the inescapable darkness drawing near.

The silence that followed was not empty. It was full, saturated with unspoken dread.

His right hand trembled, kunai quivering in his grasp. He clutched it tighter, as if he could hold on to the blade, to reality itself.

This is real. The blade is real. I bleed… therefore I exist.

I bleed… therefore I exist.

Was that all that remained?

The science was long abandoned. Philosophy buried with the first fallen comrade. And yet…

“What if our chakra, our history… was never meant for us?”

The words slipped from his lips like mist, an echo from a fevered dream. No conscious thought. No clear origin.

Just a whisper in the static of his mind.

“Echoes that were never real to begin with?”

His voice barely more than a breath, drowned in a painful buzzing that filled his ears, accompanied by the distant sound of reality cracking. Thoughts, memories, voices – all drifting. All breaking.

Orochimaru nodded slowly, his gaze distant, like a pane of frosted glass between madness and knowledge.

In Kakashi’s core, something ruptured and through that tear, something sinister began to seep.

Madness. Guilt. Revelation.

“It would mean,” he rasped, “that everything we’ve believed in… is not just false – but foreign. A power we were never meant to understand. One we never should have touched.”

“If something that refuses death hides within jutsu,” continued Orochimaru murmuring, “then each technique is a vessel. Each usage… a doorway.”

“Jutsu as Trojan horses,” Kakashi muttered darkly, “A reactivation of a forgotten will. The only question is… where does that door lead?”

The wind stirred outside, drifting snowflakes through the air. Soft, almost noiseless. They fell like memories that refused to vanish. The candlelight refracted against the frost-laced windowpane, painting a romantic illusion. A painting from another life.

Orochimaru exhaled, head tilting slightly, a sinful longing glimmering in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he whispered and for a moment, the snake-sage seemed utterly exhausted, worn thin by time, shredded by knowledge.

“Each use of jutsu is a slow unravelling of reality. What you’ve seen… what you’ve lived… is not mere resurrection or fault. It’s the echo of something larger. Something that has always been.”

He paused. His teeth clenched audibly.

“A game,” he then hissed, “that the Fourth cannot control. It wasn’t just resurrection. He’s begun… to weave realities.”

Kakashi’s breath caught.

Weave realities.

Minato had blurred the lines of time and self – and he had failed.

Where the first sound of midnight ran like cold mercury across scorched earth, thick, nearly black blood dripped from Minato’s hands. It moved slowly, heavily, alive. It struck stone, sealed scrolls, mingled with snow.

Paper rustled in the hands of those who had long since accepted that war was no longer a matter of choice, but of fate.

The world shattered in slow motion.

“…is but a patch upon a garment already torn.”

Orochimaru’s smile held no joy. It was derision incarnate, not for Kakashi, but for everything. For gods. For heroes. For the illusion of control.

Kakashi’s thoughts drifted. Another room. Another voice. A boy with a blazing crimson Sharingan whose words burned, telling him he was no longer his Sensei. Too many hands reached for him. Too warm. Too dead.

Cold sweat trickled from his chin, mingling with the blood upon his palm, a fleeting echo of all he had lost, or had yet to lose.

Outside, snowflakes danced in the hush of night. They swirled like lifeless blossoms through the brittle air, slowly, languidly, as though time itself held its breath. Somewhere beyond, Shikaku sifted through old documents, maps, and reports, quietly readying for war.

“The cult that seeks to reawaken the Corrupt Divine Tree…” Kakashi’s voice was hoarse, then briefly fell silent.

He searched for the thread amidst this tangle of lies, blood and history.

“They believe they can commune with the source itself through its chakra… not realising that all they do is unseal a thing that was never meant to be opened.”

The silence that followed was not merely the absence of sound, it was thick, tangible. Like fog creeping through the stonework, settling in the spaces between words. Heavy and damp, tinged with ash.

“But the tree they mean to summon…” Orochimaru’s voice was calm, yet something darker threaded through it, something that stilled even the snow for a breathless heartbeat. “It is no longer a tree. It is a heart. A prison. And they are knocking upon its walls.”

A low rumble, scarcely more than a tremor, rippled through the ground as the distant thunder of a storm reached them.

Orochimaru stepped closer, the light catching in his slit-pupilled eyes, casting strange patterns across his pale face. His voice softened, conspiratorial.

“During your time with me, I made inquiries,” he said, once more the dispassionate scholar basking in shadowed truths, “I always respected your mother as a scientist… but something was amiss. No trace of kin. No clan. No history. And yet she worked jutsu without a single flicker of chakra in her veins. Nothing.”

She ought never to have existed, though neither said it aloud.

A cold stab lanced through Kakashi’s chest, as though someone had poured ice water into his heart. It pounded faster, louder, like war drums before an execution. Lost, false dreams flickered in his mind. Hands that held him; a voice whispering his name, void of warmth. A shadow shaped like a woman.

Within his chest, something knotted itself, an alloy of dread, anger and a faint trace of fear.

“Why did she leave Konoha…? Why…”

…̵w̷h̷y̴ ̷d̷i̵d̸ ̶s̶h̶e̶ ̷l̷e̸a̴v̴e̵ ̸m̷e̸?̸

“She ceased to be your family long ago,” Orochimaru breathed, almost like a confession, tinged with something close to regret, “She is their prophet now.”

Kakashi stepped forward. The firelight stretched his silhouette tall and crooked across the wall, a dark fracture in the flickering gold. Smoke curled through the chamber, thick and sweet.

“Danzo means to eliminate me during the Peace Trials,” he murmured, calculating. His words fell like droplets upon frozen glass. “That means I’ll have time. Perhaps something can be brokered.”

Orochimaru tilted his head, his voice a ghostly whisper in the sterile hush.

“And if she resists you? If saving her means destroying her?”

A deep, splintered moment. No motion. No reply. Only the sound of blood dripping from Kakashi’s hands, like a metronome marking the end of a decision.

“Then I shall not hesitate,” he said quietly, with a strange, almost gentle peace.

After all… I do not know her.

Orochimaru remained silent. Perhaps because he understood. Or perhaps because, in that bleak and frozen truth, he glimpsed an abyss that even he feared. His eyes glinted with both contempt and amusement and in them, Kakashi saw a reflection of himself. A man who still clung to the belief that his own corruption could be undone. Who imagined that guilt might yet be washed away with blood.

“You’re truly pathetic, Kakashi.”

And indeed, he was.

Slowly, Kakashi stepped back, as though distance might serve as a refuge. But one cannot flee from oneself. The shadows within him whispered without end, beckoning with memories of choices long past. Of victims that had become monsters and monsters that had once been victims.

A low, deranged laugh broke from his throat, hollow and bitter. Not born of mirth, but of a self-loathing so profound it curdled the air.

“I’m no judge,” Kakashi said with a half-smile, though his voice dropped to a dangerous murmur as he cast a ravenous glance at Orochimaru. “I simply adore the game.”

There was no absolution left. Only a relic of bygone sins, encrusted with regret and brittle recollections.

With studied nonchalance, Orochimaru laid the chakra crystal upon the table. Candlelight fractured within it, glittering like serpent skin beneath the dusk. His lips curled into a controlled smile. Precise, clinical. As cold and sharp as a scalpel’s breath.

“And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with this information?” the Snake Sannin inquired, his tone almost playful as he tilted his head.

Something contradictory lurked in his gaze. A noxious blend of curiosity, disdain… and a faint shimmer of fear.

“What do you hope to gain by knowing which mire you’ve sunk into?”

Snowflakes drifted soundlessly through the night, fragile as ash, alighting upon scarred windowpanes. Far in the distance, the low, thunderous hum of assembling forces tainted the horizon.

Kakashi knew he would never reach Fugaku in his current state. The thought itself felt distant, unreal, as though it belonged to someone else. His senses were dulling. The room wavered like a candle’s flame in a draught. Heat clung to his skin, his clothing damp with sweat, as fever hollowed him from within.

He did not know why he kept speaking. Only that his heart raced, his fingers trembled, and the darkness at the edges of his awareness gnawed at him. Patient, ravenous, eager to consume what little of him remained. Each breath was a battle; a dull ache pulsed in his chest.

He buried his face in scarred hands. It brought no solace. Orochimaru offered only fragments, loose threads of a life unraveled. Somewhere in the black, beyond the cinders of his old self, lay a truth he dared not face. Death had already taken him and he had not even noticed. Yet beneath all that gloom, there was… something. A flicker. An echo. Barely tangible.

“It’s the pursuit itself that compels me,” Kakashi whispered, his voice barely more than a ghost, his gaze caught in the wavering candlelight glinting off a single droplet on his forehead protector. “The possibility. The divergence. The hope that somewhere, there is another version of me. One who didn’t end up like this.”

A soft crack disturbed the hush, the resin of the table beneath his burning hands beginning to splinter. The room swayed like a boat adrift on black waters. But Kakashi’s stare remained fixed, unnervingly calm.

Was it that irksome spark of curiosity, refusing to extinguish? Or the dread that any breath might snuff it out for good?

“A name. A vow,” he murmured now, his voice an echo in its own right, “Not for redemption. Not for forgiveness.”

Only for understanding.

“To witness what was never dared. To contemplate what was never believed…”

The darkness tightened around him. Like a noose. Like a shroud. Like the shadows beneath his eyes, spreading like ink upon parchment.

To know who he truly was. Whether in every reality, he was a monster. A hollow vessel, a blade awaiting the command to destroy. To find yet another reason to despise himself.

“To say aloud that one can be lie and truth alike.”

A gust of wind made the flame gutter. For an instant, it reflected in Orochimaru’s eyes, molten gold suspended above a bottomless void.

“Would you abandon your purpose for the sake of it?” Kakashi murmured, more to himself than the other. “Or would you mould your purpose to the pursuit itself? Understanding… movement for movement’s sake. The end of desire is akin to death, even if one still draws breath.”

But what is knowledge, if it is merely another gallows rope around one’s throat?

The truth was no anchor, no salvation. It was a fetter tightening with every breath, every flicker at Orochimaru’s lips.

A cold sheen of sweat clung to his brow. He blinked, swayed, as though the room itself were tilting. Fever throbbed in his skull, heavy, metallic.

“How much…” he began, his voice rasping and dry, “how much is one willing to pay for a lie? How much would you have given up to make the impossible real? …How much further would I have gone?”

His gaze met Orochimaru’s, a sudden flash of clarity in the fog. And for one heartbeat, the Sannin’s pupils dilated. Just a flicker. But enough. Kakashi had struck a nerve.

“Far enough,” the Sannin replied at last, his tone low and grave, “Deep enough that one forgets there was ever anything else. That truth ever existed.”

Silence.

A silence that fell like snow. Thick, weightless, final. Like a burial cloth.

“What do you say to another bargain?” Kakashi said softly. The words clawed their way from him like a final breath—yet they were steady. Controlled.

Orochimaru raised a brow. His curiosity returned, now laced with wariness.

“A bargain in which I receive something in return, I hope?”

The words reached Kakashi’s ears as though from a great distance. He reached for the table, steadying himself, though the wood burned against his skin, as if it too sought to consume him.

He forced a weary smile, weak, yet sincere in its bitterness.

“I’ll bring you a gift from the Uchiha archives. Next time. If you take care of my… condition.”

A smile, as brittle as the snow upon the windowsill, while Orochimaru stilled.

The archives. Relics of the forbidden Naka Shrine. Kotoamatsukami. Black scrolls teeming with forgotten jutsu and shadowed rites. And among them… records of the Sharingan.

A gleam lit Orochimaru’s eyes. A sharp smile carved across his face.

“With pleasure.”

Kakashi nodded faintly and for a moment, he fell forward before jerking awake again. He couldn’t recall closing his eyes, but they already sank once more, leaden with exhaustion. A final wave of weariness crashed over him like black surf, leeching all warmth, rendering his limbs heavy, his mind void. The shadows thickened around him, the darkness closing in like a second skin.

He fell.

And all that remained was the hush of falling snow and the slow, rhythmic drip of water and blood in the hollow of the void.

Then there was nothingness.

And still, the snow danced silently through the black. Cold, translucent crystals glimmering in the lantern light like shards of forgotten memory.

───── ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ─────

Orochimaru watched.

Kakashi’s body trembled faintly, his eyelids fluttering as though resisting the undertow of unconsciousness. Each breath was shallow, a faint echo of his once-disciplined self. Snow gusted against the glass while inside, the candlelight cast flickering shadows across the walls.

It seemed it was time to begin.

He approached. A light touch to Kakashi’s shoulders, a gesture almost tender. Kakashi only stared ahead, dull-eyed, wearied.

“Kakashi?” The voice slithered like oil, smooth and poisonous with curiosity.

No answer. Only the muffled ticking of a clock, somewhere hidden. Orochimaru’s brow furrowed. His long fingers tightened around Kakashi’s shoulders. Cold, skeletal, claw-like. Then, suddenly, Kakashi’s pupils twitched.

Consciousness, clawing its way back. And with it, Orochimaru’s disappointment.

It would’ve been so much simpler to examine him while unconscious.

Kakashi’s gaze wandered, seeking purchase in an unfamiliar world. The room seemed to breathe; the shadows danced like spirits. Slowly, very slowly, the figure before him came into focus.

A flicker of dismay crossed his features.

He watched as Kakashi’s eyes finally recognised him, the motion sluggish and disoriented. Recognition lit behind the grey irises. Orochimaru stepped back, studying him like a specimen.

“Orochimaru?” Kakashi murmured, confused, glancing about the room with weariness.

A suspicion was already on the tip of Orochimaru's tongue as to what had just happened in front of him. His frown gave way to an amused, maniacal smile.

“Kakashi,” Orochimaru turned his gaze upon him with unsettling calm, “how long have we known each other now?”

Kakashi’s fingers tightened, muscles coiled with tension. He drew a kunai, the blade flashing briefly in the dim light and scored his skin, just slightly. A safeguard against illusion. The scent of fresh blood mingled with the dry air. But nothing shifted. No illusion lifted.

“Seven years,” he replied cautiously.

Orochimaru’s laugh rang out, loud and unrestrained, echoing off the stone walls.

“Splendid!” he exclaimed, mirth dancing in his voice, “That changes things.”

Kakashi’s expression darkened. In a sudden motion, he seized Orochimaru by the collar, fury igniting in his eyes.

“What did you tell him?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Orochimaru merely looked amused, his serpentine gaze gleaming with mischief.

“I’ve told him nothing of consequence. Mere idle chatter.”

Kakashi scoffed, a bitter sound. Even if it was his own soul that had fractured, it was no longer wholly his. Not really. Regardless of what Gai might have to say about it.

“Then tell me why that counterfeit version of me is here with you,” he hissed.

Orochimaru clicked his tongue and wagged a finger in mock admonishment.

“Now, now. We wouldn’t want your precious body to suffer, would we? Besides, I gave your other self my word that I’d tend to your... condition.”

Disgusted, Kakashi let go.

How dared that copy? The loathing he felt was already unbearable. He would ruin everything. Everything. And Kakashi could not allow that. And yet... it somehow was still him. Perhaps he could understand, perhaps he had, already?

Dearest ally or deadliest foe?

He pressed thumb and forefinger to his brow.

“What did he offer you?” Kakashi asked softly.

But the other man said nothing. Orochimaru’s eyes glittered with secrets, and Kakashi read far more than he wished to. He could not fathom how a mere impostor had so easily ensnared Orochimaru in his web.

“Let us say,” Orochimaru began with a sly smile, “his talents in procuring that which has been denied even to me are of far greater value than anything you might offer. Though, if it’s any consolation... you, too, have your charms.”

He paused and whatever twisted thought followed, Kakashi did not want to hear it. There was a glint in Orochimaru’s eye that sent a shiver down his spine.

The kunai in Kakashi’s hand snapped up, ready, only for Orochimaru to move first. In a single, fluid motion, serpentine shadows coiled from the ground, cold and unyielding, and wrapped around Kakashi’s wrists like iron manacles.

“Tsk, tsk,” Orochimaru murmured, straightening with casual grace, his hands now clasped behind his back. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not in your… delicate state.”

“You’re using us both,” Kakashi spat.

He strained against the restraints, but his strength had abandoned him. The room swam faintly, as though he were drunk.

Damn it. What had that other version done? What was the game Orochimaru was playing?

“And yet you still wish to protect him?” Orochimaru’s voice held a note of mocking surprise, as though reading Kakashi’s thoughts, “How touching. But you don’t understand – he’s made his choice. He doesn’t want to return to his world. He wants yours. And why shouldn’t he?”

A sharp hiss escaped his lips. And Kakashi fell silent as the weight of the words settled upon him. That this Fake was a Mitama from another dimension. His brow furrowed with scorn. The only place it could possibly hail from was Hell itself.

It was not he who was the demon risen from Yomi, but this treacherous imitation.

"You are the one who doesn’t belong here, after all," Orochimaru whispered sweetly, his voice as smooth and venomous as snake’s silk.

Beneath the mask, Kakashi’s scars suddenly burned. He let out a bitter laugh, to which Orochimaru responded with an amused grin. The Sannin stepped closer, his skeletal hand, cold as death, rising to grasp Kakashi’s chin, forcing him to meet his corrupted gaze.

"You both seek truth," Orochimaru murmured, "but you secretly pray you won’t be able to bear it."

Hatred flared in Kakashi’s eyes as he stared into his golden reflection.

"If that’s the case," he growled, more to himself than to the other man, "then I’ll stop him."

The Sannin chuckled, a low, indulgent sound.

"Of course you’ll try. But do you truly believe you can triumph over yourself?"

He leaned in, his breath as cold as cave air.

"He knows your every thought. Every weakness. And more importantly…", he paused, "…he has no qualms exploiting them."

Suddenly, Kakashi's body jolted as though struck by lightning. His eyes glazed over, pupils dilating, and in that instant, he saw him. Within his own mind.

The other.

The same body. The same face. But the eyes, cold, calculating, ravenous. And yet, there was no hatred there, only void. He could feel that dead stare boring into him.

The world tilted into chaos.

He had always known. Deep down, Kakashi had always known what he was doing. And if he let down his guard, he would remember again. He had never been better than the monsters he fought.

Then pain, brilliant, blinding pain, tore through his mind, as though something had ripped apart inside him.

When he came to, he was sprawled on the ground, blood thick in his mouth. Orochimaru stood above him, a scalpel in hand, its blade already tinged red.

"Fascinating," the Snake Sannin murmured absently, letting a drop of blood fall into a glass vial, "Your chakra… it resists. As though it were fighting off an infection."

Kakashi tried to speak, but his voice failed him.

Orochimaru smiled.

"Don’t worry. I keep my promises. I’ve reached a conclusion. Whether it is to your fortune, or your doom…"

A flicker of theatrical sorrow gleamed darkly in those golden eyes.

"You are the power I hold over him. And I am not ready to relinquish the leash."

Easier to manipulate. Easier to control.

Fear flickered behind Kakashi’s eyes.

"Well?" the Sannin whispered at his ear. "Will you destroy yourself? Or the world?"

And with hatred burning in his chest, Kakashi swore to make him suffer.

Then darkness claimed everything.