Forty-three days until the planet descends…
The gates of Konoha creaked faintly in the night wind as Kakashi Hatake stepped beyond them. He paused on the dirt path that stretched into the quiet forest, his silver hair catching the pale moonlight. For the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar—ease.
He reached up and touched his left eye. The Sharingan beneath his forehead protector had always been both a gift and a curse. It gave him sight into a world others couldn't perceive, but it also drained him relentlessly, stealing his energy day and night. Yet now… for the first time, the eye rested quietly, no longer devouring his chakra.
His lips moved almost unconsciously, whispering into the cool night air:
> "Hokage…"
The word lingered, heavy with both longing and uncertainty.
"Is becoming Hokage really my wish?" he murmured, his voice low and uncertain.
Memories flickered unbidden. Minato-sensei's warm smile. Obito's reckless grin. Rin's gentle eyes. Faces that once filled his world, now long gone, swallowed by the cruelty of shinobi life. Each name was a blade in his chest.
He wandered toward a stream that wound its way through the forest and knelt at the bank. The water was clear, reflecting the moonlight like polished glass. When he leaned forward, his own reflection stared back—tired eyes, weary features, the mask hiding emotions he could never show. He barely recognized himself anymore.
The rippling surface blurred, and with it his mind sank into memories.
---
Childhood Dreams
Once, long ago, he too had dreams. Simple ones, fragile ones. Like every child in the Academy, he had shouted to the sky: "I'll become Hokage one day!" He believed those words, believed in the strength of bonds, in the idea that protecting comrades was everything.
But the years had carved those beliefs away. One by one, the people dearest to him had been torn from his side. His father, Sakumo, shamed by the village and driven to despair. Rin, whose blood stained his hands. Obito, whose dream was entrusted to him with the gift of a single eye.
The dream of Hokage no longer burned in his chest. It was a faint ember, nearly extinguished, smothered beneath the weight of reality.
---
The Anbu Years
As he gazed at the stream, darker memories rose—the years he spent in the shadows of Konoha, among the Anbu. Missions that left his hands red with blood. Silent assassinations, cold calculations, and endless political games waged by the village elders.
Konoha was hailed as a pillar of peace, but Kakashi had seen the rot beneath the surface. He had watched as Hiruzen Sarutobi, the so-called "Professor," allowed compromises for the sake of stability. He had witnessed Danzo's Root tear apart families and erase lives for the village's "safety."
Once, he had excused it all as necessity. The Sharingan's unrestrained drain kept his mind clouded, numbing him to the contradictions. But now… now his head was clear.
The haze was gone, and he could see everything.
> "So that's how it is," he whispered, voice heavy with realization.
The Uchiha massacre, the missing Sharingan eyes, the assets of the clan swiftly redistributed… They were not random accidents of history. They were deliberate, calculated, and quietly approved by the same Hokage who now lamented "regret" over children like Uchiha Gen.
Kakashi clenched his fist. The truths he had ignored were staring at him plainly.
---
A Crisis of Belief
His thoughts spiraled. What does it mean to be Hokage? He had always believed it was to protect the village, to shield it from harm, to embody the Will of Fire. But if that very Will of Fire was twisted, corrupted by politics and selfish ambition… then what was he striving toward?
Was he, Hatake Kakashi, truly suited to wear the Hokage's hat? Or was he just another weapon, forged by the hypocrisy of the system, too weary to question it until now?
He tilted his head back and stared at the endless night sky. Stars blinked faintly, distant and uncaring. For the first time, Kakashi felt small—an insignificant man in a world teetering on the edge of disaster.
"Perhaps," he muttered, "I should simply find Jiraiya-sensei first…"
It was the only thing he could cling to, a tangible mission amid the storm of doubt rising inside him.
---
In the Hokage's Office
Meanwhile, back in the Hokage's office, silence hung heavy. Scrolls and reports littered the desk, each one a piece of the impending storm. The essay of Uchiha Gen still lay on top, its elegant calligraphy stark against the dim candlelight.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat with his elbows on the desk, rubbing his tired temples. His face, lined with years of burden, looked older than ever. He had spent three hours reviewing reports, drafting orders, and considering strategies. By tomorrow, Koharu and Homura would return, bringing more voices into the council chamber.
The weight of leadership pressed down on him like a mountain.
Konoha had already begun mobilizing. Jōnin squads were recalled from missions abroad. Earth-style shinobi were tasked with reinforcing underground bunkers and defensive lines across the Fire Country. Supplies were being stockpiled, shifted quietly from merchants and warehouses. Letters had been dispatched to the Daimyo, securing funds and approval.
Every step screamed of preparation for war—or something far worse.
But these measures could not be hidden for long. Soon the other four great villages would notice. And then… suspicion, accusations, and perhaps even hostility.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, the smoke of his pipe curling like ghosts in the air. "This path is narrow," he whispered to himself.
---
Danzo's Interruption
The door slammed open.
"Hiruzen."
Danzo Shimura strode into the office, his cane tapping against the polished floor, his bandaged face set in its usual mask of severity. His single visible eye gleamed with cold calculation.
"You're about to send word to the other Kage, aren't you?"
Hiruzen frowned but did not deny it.
Danzo's lips twisted. "Don't be hasty. Convene a Five Kage Summit first. Only then should this information be revealed."
"You've been appearing more often than even Koharu and Homura lately," Hiruzen muttered, half in irritation.
"They're insects," Danzo replied dismissively. "Their opinions don't matter. What matters is timing. Tell the other villages too soon, and they'll panic—or worse, unite against us."
Hiruzen's gaze hardened. "Danzo, even now, you seek to weaken them? At a time when the world faces destruction?"
But Danzo was unmoved, his voice cold and measured. "The black market already whispers of disaster. Mercenaries and missing-nin are talking. The seeds of chaos are sown. Why rush? Let the others doubt, let them hesitate. By the time they act, Konoha will already be prepared."
Hiruzen's face darkened. "Who would believe such a prophecy without evidence? It sounds like madness."
Danzo shrugged. "Perhaps. But the less they believe now, the stronger our advantage later."
The Hokage's hand trembled slightly on the desk. He hated it—hated that Danzo's logic made sense.
After a long silence, he finally said: "Very well. We'll convene the Five Kage Summit first. Then the truth will be shared."
Danzo nodded, satisfaction glinting in his eye. "Good. This way, Konoha can rise after the disaster. When the other villages falter, we will endure."
---
Clash of Ideals
"Rise after the disaster?" Hiruzen's voice was soft, filled with a sorrow that cut deeper than anger. "Danzo… Have you considered what Konoha itself will suffer? When ruin falls upon us, when fire and stone bury our homes, how much strength will we have left to rise again?"
Danzo's reply was sharp, unwavering. "When Tobirama-sensei fell, when the village was left scarred, did we not rise again? Destruction is not the end, Hiruzen. It is the beginning. As long as Konoha's will survives, we endure. We dominate."
For once, his tone softened, carrying a rare edge of concern. "You're old. You should rest. Let others carry the weight now."
Hiruzen looked at him wearily. "And what of Uchiha Fugaku's eyes?"
Danzo paused, then sneered lightly. "He never awakened the Mangekyō. They're nothing special. A keepsake at best. You and I can each keep one, if sentiment matters so much to you."
The Hokage gave a hollow chuckle, a bitter taste on his tongue. "Black humor, as always."
Danzo turned to leave. "I'll have them delivered. Rest, Hiruzen. Tomorrow, you'll need your strength to face the others."
The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.
And in the corridor beyond, Danzo's expression twisted into contempt.
> Hiruzen… You grow weaker by the day. To haggle over a single Sharingan… pathetic. You no longer deserve the Hokage's seat. Only I, Danzo Shimura, can lead Konoha back to greatness.
His footsteps echoed down the hall like the march of fate.
---
Back on the Road
Far from the political games of Konoha, Kakashi walked beneath the moonlit trees, unaware of the schemes unfolding behind him. His doubts still gnawed at him, but with each step, his mind grew sharper.
He pulled his forehead protector slightly upward, exposing the scarred skin around his left eye. To his astonishment, the eyelid trembled… and closed naturally, as if the Sharingan were finally obeying him.
His breath caught. "It can close… on its own?"
For years, it had been an unblinking eye, always open, always consuming chakra. And now, as though awakening to a new will, it rested.
The endless drain on his body ceased. Silence returned to his mind.
Kakashi lowered his hand, his gaze softening. "Obito… what exactly did you leave behind in this eye?"
The night offered no answer, only the rustle of wind in the leaves.
But something deep within the Sharingan stirred—a resonance, faint yet undeniable.
The future was shifting.
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