After the procedure, Shinnosuke slowly opened his eyes.
A crimson gleam lit up the dim room, and three perfectly formed tomoe swirled to life in his new Sharingan. A breath caught in his throat as the world sharpened—details leapt into focus, every flicker of chakra now a visible current flowing through the air.
The sensation was intoxicating.
For the first time in his life, the battlefield that had always been shrouded in uncertainty felt… clear. Predictable.
Shinnosuke's lips curved into a rare smile, his voice low but brimming with wonder. "Thank you, Kakashi."
Kakashi didn't return the smile. His single visible eye lingered on Shinnosuke's face—at the pride and gratitude there—and for a moment, something in him twisted.
This wasn't triumph. It was a dangerous secret.
He folded his arms and spoke carefully, each word measured. "Don't let this feeling blind you. What we've done tonight… If it's discovered, it won't just fall on your shoulders. It'll drag us both under."
Shinnosuke blinked, his new eye flickering faintly as his expression hardened.
"Now is a dangerous time," Kakashi continued, lowering his voice as though afraid even the walls might hear. "Lord Tobirama has seized full control of the village. He despises the Sharingan—sees it as a curse that corrupts its wielders. If this comes to light, you won't get a second chance."
Shinnosuke's brief smile faded, replaced by a solemn nod. "I understand. I'll… tell Father myself, when the time is right."
But as Kakashi spoke, Shinnosuke couldn't ignore what he felt—how unnaturally smooth the procedure had been.
There was no violent backlash, no overwhelming drain, not even the heavy exhaustion he had braced himself for. The Sharingan's chakra merged with his own like two rivers flowing into the same stream, a perfect synchronization that sent a thrill down his spine.
Perhaps… this was fate.
Shinnosuke reached for his ANBU mask, slipping it on as he turned to leave. His silhouette was sharp against the faint candlelight as he murmured to himself:
"I'll protect Father. I'll protect the entire village. The Will of Fire… will never burn out."
The conviction and hope in his voice was ironclad.
Yet, behind him, Kakashi stood motionless, his gaze heavy. The phrase—Will of Fire—hung in the air like smoke, and he found himself staring blankly into the still pool just outside the window.
His own reflection stared back.
Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. Every muscle in his body ached, and a bone-deep weariness seeped into him, making him feel ancient beyond his years. The calm surface of the water reflected not just his familiar masked face but something… off. Something distant.
And as he stared, memories resurfaced like dark clouds.
Obito's voice in the Kamui dimension, filled with conviction.The eye he had accepted without question.The night Konoha burned under the Nine-Tails' fury.
From initially understanding Obito and accepting Obito's gift, to gradually recognizing Obito's ideals later, and even, to some extent, beginning to help him in his insane plans that would end the world.
Now, he had actually personally transplanted Uchiha Fugaku's Sharingan to Shinnosuke who could also now be compromised in the future by Uchiha gen...
Thinking about it, was there any fundamental difference between his current self and Obito, who attacked Konoha on the night of the Nine-Tails? Could it be that, without him realizing, his thoughts and ideals had quietly undergone such a massive yet casual change?
Kakashi silently gazed at his reflection in the water, his doubts and struggles intertwined, leaving him feeling an unprecedented sense of confusion and anxiety.
The reflection in the water seemed to mock him, its eye glinting with a strange sharpness. Kakashi's thoughts churned, whispers rising in the back of his mind.
When did it start?
Was it when he saw Obito again in the Kamui dimension?
Or even earlier—when he first dared to dream of becoming Hokage himself?
The Kakashi staring back from the water appeared calm, almost serene. Too serene.
He met his own gaze, and a chill ran down his spine. The man in the water felt… alien. His expression was unreadable, his Sharingan faintly glowing like a watchful eye.
For a fleeting second, Kakashi wasn't sure which one of them was real.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, turning to leave. But as he walked away, his reflection didn't follow.
The Kakashi in the water remained, still and unmoving, its eye tracking him with quiet scrutiny.
A ripple distorted the reflection, and as it finally dissolved into the surface of the lake, its last lingering glance seemed to carry a silent mockery, a warning that seeped into Kakashi's bones.
The night air was cool, but the back of his neck prickled with unease.
When Kakashi returned to camp, the first thing he noticed was a small, round face cautiously peeking out from behind the flap of the tent.
The soft afterglow of dusk bathed little Naruto in warm hues, making his figure seem even smaller and lonelier, yet somehow... more endearing. His messy blond hair glimmered faintly in the fading light, and there was a shy, almost expectant look in his wide blue eyes.
Kakashi raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his single visible eye."...Naruto? What are you doing?"
Startled, Naruto spun around, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. He hesitated for a moment, fumbling with his words before pointing timidly toward the inside of the tent.
"Uh... nothing, really. I just... made some instant noodles. I thought... maybe we could eat them together when you came back."
There was such genuine hope in the boy's voice that Kakashi felt his chest tighten. Stepping into the dimly lit tent, he spotted two small pots set carefully side by side. The noodles inside had been boiled soft, sitting in over-soaked broth, clearly waiting too long for him.
A rare, gentle smile tugged at Kakashi's lips. "You made these for me, huh?"
Before Naruto could respond, a loud rumble broke the quiet, and both of them froze. Naruto's face turned crimson as he clutched his stomach, avoiding Kakashi's gaze.
Kakashi chuckled softly, kneeling down to inspect the food. "Let's start over. I'll make us something a little better."
Naruto's eyes lit up with anticipation as Kakashi, without missing a beat, began moving with casual expertise. He drained the overcooked noodles, reshaping and refreshing them with practiced hands before dropping them into a fresh pot. The rhythmic sound of chopping soon followed as he sliced sausage into thin, even pieces, then cracked two eggs with a flick of his wrist, their golden yolks sizzling as they met the heat.
In moments, the smell of warm broth and sizzling sausage filled the tent, soft and inviting. Naruto's stomach growled again, this time louder, making him duck his head in embarrassment. Kakashi only chuckled.
When the food was finally ready, Kakashi handed Naruto a steaming bowl. The boy's expression brightened instantly as he inhaled the comforting aroma, and the corners of Kakashi's visible eye softened.
Watching Naruto eagerly dig in, Kakashi felt an unfamiliar warmth rise in his chest—a quiet, steady sense of purpose. He wasn't just watching over Minato's son... he was sharing something precious with him. For Naruto, this simple meal seemed like a feast; for Kakashi, it was a reminder of how fragile and precious this bond was.
Outside, hidden among the shifting shadows of the trees, Jiraiya watched in silence. His large frame leaned against the bark of a tree, arms folded loosely, but his expression was tender. The sight of Naruto laughing softly at something Kakashi said, cheeks full of noodles, made a rare, warm smile curl across the Sannin's face.
"...Naruto, Kakashi... You two really are something special," Jiraiya murmured under his breath, voice tinged with pride and bittersweet fondness.
Tobirama's decision to have him monitor the boy and his guardian had seemed harsh at first, but deep down, Jiraiya had wanted this assignment. In these dark, uncertain times—when Konoha's leadership itself felt fractured, when tension between Tobirama and Hiruzen brewed like a stormcloud—he needed to see this.
Needed to see hope.
Because even on the brink of apocalypse, scenes like this were a rare reminder of what they were fighting for.
Jiraiya closed his eyes briefly, letting the laughter and warmth spilling from the tent soothe the gnawing unease in his chest. For now, he'd remain in the shadows, guarding silently. Watching was enough.