"Thank you, Lord Sakumo," Akira Hoshino said, relief flooding his voice. "I really didn't know how to handle Mr. Shinji without your help."
"No need for thanks. You should head home and rest, Hoshino-sensei. Leave the rest to me."
After Akira left, Sakumo crouched down to meet Naraku's eyes. His tone was calm. "All right. Let's go back."
"Back… where?" Naraku blinked, confused.
"Idiot," Kakashi muttered, squeezing his shoulder with an exasperated look. "He means back to our house."
Naraku's eyes went wide, words tripping over themselves. "N-no, that's impossible, Lord Sakumo. I'll just be a burden to you."
Don't take me seriously, I was just being polite! Naraku screamed silently in his head.
Completely unaware of his panic, Sakumo chuckled and ruffled his hair, nodding for Kakashi to bring him along.
Even standing inside the Hatake house, Naraku still couldn't wrap his head around it.
Was his luck really this ridiculous?
The White Fang of Hidden Leaf. The man who made Sand shinobi tremble during the Second War. And he was letting Naraku stay here just because he was Kakashi's classmate?
"Give me your hand."
Naraku obeyed, and Sakumo pressed his fingers lightly against his arm, testing his chakra flow. After a moment, Sakumo nodded.
"Your chakra reserves are low, but that's not your fault. Malnutrition. Once you eat properly, it'll rise."
He turned to Kakashi with a faint smile. "For Naraku to keep up with you even in this state—it means once he recovers, you'll be evenly matched."
Then he looked Naraku in the eye. "You have talent."
The words lit something inside Naraku—but only for a moment. Then the old weight of memories dragged him down. His chest tightened, and tears burned hot, spilling before he could stop them. Years of swallowed grief broke free all at once.
"T-thank you…" He swiped at his face with his sleeve, mortified. "Sorry, I shouldn't be crying…"
A towel dropped onto his face.
"Wipe it up, crybaby," Kakashi muttered.
"…System, how long till these leftover emotions wear off? Say something, damn it!" Naraku thought bitterly.
Still, the bond was obvious.
Sakumo's chest warmed seeing his son with a friend he trusted. For shinobi, companionship like that was everything.
"Enough for tonight. Wash up and rest. Tomorrow's a holiday—perfect chance for me to train you both."
"Yes, sir." Kakashi tugged Naraku toward their room.
Inside, Kakashi pulled out fresh bedding. "You sleep here. I'm taking a shower. Don't wait up."
"Okay."
When Kakashi came back, Naraku was still wide awake. Without thinking much of it, Kakashi flopped into his futon. "'Night."
But after a while, that steady gaze wouldn't go away. He turned his head—sure enough, Naraku was staring right at him.
"…What?" Kakashi grumbled.
Naraku's eyes curved, lips quirking in the faintest smile.
Probably the first time he'd ever seen him smile.
Not that Kakashi would admit it made him happy. He rolled his eyes. "Idiot. Go to sleep."
"Mm."
Morning sunlight streamed down, warm and clear.
In the Hatake yard, blades clashed. Sakumo wasn't really fighting—he was feeding Kakashi moves, drilling him in the Hatake kenjutsu style. Steel rang against steel, fists traded blows, every movement precise.
But it didn't take long before Kakashi's chakra bottomed out. Panting, sweat dripping into his eyes, he slumped back.
Naraku darted into the bathroom, returned with a damp towel, and handed it over. Kakashi hesitated, then pressed it over his face without a word.
"Naraku. Over here," Sakumo called.
Naraku jogged over and stood straight. "Lord Sakumo."
"You should be calling me 'sensei.'"
Naraku froze. His fingers twisted the fabric of his shirt as he stared at the ground.
Memories surged—his father's fists, his mother's absence, nights of hunger and cold. The weight of it pressed down, threatening to crush him.
Then a broad, steady hand landed on his shoulder, scattering the shadows.
"It's all right, Naraku. Nothing like that will happen again."
The breeze stirred the branches overhead, sunlight flickering through the leaves, sharp and bright.
"…Sensei."
He leaned into Sakumo's chest. Solid. Safe. Warm. For the first time, he realized—this was what a father's embrace should feel like.
And with that word spoken, something inside him shifted. The lingering bitterness and grief faded, like Naraku Uchiha's soul had finally unchained itself, drifting free as a breeze through the yard.
When he looked up, his eyes were no longer black. Crimson swirled, tomoe spinning slowly in each pupil.
"The Sharingan!"
Sakumo tensed instinctively, then relaxed as he remembered whose eyes they were.
"Naraku. You awakened it."
"…Huh?"
Naraku glanced around—and the world sharpened. Every detail came alive, colors brighter, movement slowed. He saw a beetle trembling beneath a blade of grass, wings flicking open in perfect clarity, every beat distinct.
No wonder awakened Uchiha looked down on outsiders. It wasn't arrogance—it was another level entirely.
So it wasn't just rage and grief that could stir the Sharingan. Warmth could, too. Maybe Naraku had already been on the edge, and the kindness of the Hatake father and son had pushed him over.
That's why Tobirama called them the clan of love. Enemies always understood too well.
"So clear… this is the Sharingan…"
He spun around, drinking in every corner of the world like it was brand new—until a stab of pain cut it off. His vision snapped back to normal.
"Your chakra isn't strong enough yet," Sakumo said quietly, steadying him with a hand. "That's why it closed."
Kakashi still held the towel Naraku had given him, his knuckles tightening.
His father had said Naraku could fight him evenly once healed. Now he had the Sharingan on top of it. He'd definitely surpass him if things kept up.
Kakashi wasn't arrogant—he could accept being outpaced. But his pride, his drive, refused to surrender so easily.
Just wait, Naraku. I'm not letting you pull ahead that easily.
Determination burned in Kakashi's eyes.