The moon hung low over Konoha, casting a pale, silvery light that filtered through the leaves and shadows. Kakashi moved soundlessly along the village streets, the warmth of battle long faded, replaced by the crisp chill of night. In his mind, the day's events replayed, each moment and decision weaving together like tangled threads in a vast web.
Reaching his doorstep, he paused, feeling a weariness in his bones that went beyond mere fatigue. His first kill. He hadn't hesitated, hadn't let fear take hold. But now, in the quiet aftermath, the memory weighed heavily on him—far more than he'd expected.
"I'm home," he called, though no one answered. The silence wrapped around him like a familiar shadow, deep and unyielding.
Inside, the familiar scent and silence greeted him, filling the space with an odd comfort. He moved toward the bath without a word, letting warm water wash over his skin in hopes of dispelling the lingering echoes of the battlefield. But even as he scrubbed, fragments clung to his mind—the flash of lightning, the fierce clash, the cold finality in his opponent's eyes.
Once dressed, he returned to his small room, collapsing onto the bed with a quiet sigh. His gaze fixed on the ceiling as the mission played back in his mind, each detail sharper than any kunai.
"I can't rely on others. Not on people who don't know me, or those I don't trust." Yasu's hesitation echoed in his mind. He understood it, accepted it, but it left a bitter taste. If trust in his team was impossible, he needed strength—enough strength that he wouldn't have to rely on anyone at all. The path ahead suddenly seemed steeper, more treacherous. For the first time, he felt the distance between himself and the power he would need to face the real threats—those far deadlier than rogue chunin or unseen dangers on the battlefield.
The Gacha system he'd been granted was powerful, but there was no guarantee that the future templates would bring him the strength he needed. Surviving against the likes of the Ōtsutsuki clan felt like a distant, almost unreachable goal. It had granted him tools, even an advantage, but not certainty.
He wanted control. He wanted strength he could shape—not fleeting gifts that might or might not come. And he certainly didn't want to rely on something like Obito's Mangekyō Sharingan.
That path had always troubled him. He didn't want power born of tragedy, power borrowed from another, as if his worth depended on someone else's story. He saw it clearly: even with the Mangekyō, Kakashi had never reached the heights of those who came before him. Madara, Hashirama, even Jiraiya—they possessed a strength Kakashi knew he couldn't simply inherit.
"Super Kage." The phrase floated in his mind, like a distant challenge. He knew that reaching that level required more than borrowed power. Jiraiya's Sage Mode, the Third Raikage's raw strength—abilities rooted in relentless mastery, not fleeting fortunes.
His fingers curled into fists, a quiet determination simmering within. He couldn't just wait and hope. He would have to carve his own strength, piece by piece, until there was nothing he couldn't face. This life—this second chance he'd been given—it wouldn't be wasted following someone else's path.
He would surpass them all, create something wholly his own, and walk a road only he could forge.
With a steadying breath, Kakashi closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and when it did, he'd begin again, sharper, and more focused than before.
---
Root Base
Seated in his dimly lit office, Danzo scanned the report in his hands. It was a copy of Mikoto's mission summary, detailing the ambush, the rogue ninjas, and her observations of her team. Such reports were more than mere records—they were keys to understanding each shinobi, the foundation on which decisions are made about their futures.
Reading the line where Kakashi had killed his opponent without hesitation, Danzo's expression darkened, a spark of approval tainted by frustration.
"Damn Hiruzen," he muttered. "Kakashi is perfect for Root."
He would have him—maybe not now, but soon enough. Kakashi would become a perfect weapon in Danzo's hands, forged to serve Konoha in the shadows.
He turned to other reports piled on his desk. One, stamped in red from ANBU, confirmed the ambush had been orchestrated by Kumogakure's death squad. They were designed to fight to the last breath, leaving no secrets behind.
Another file noted Jiraiya and his team's mission near the Kumogakure border. Minato had been promoted to Jonin—no surprise there. At fifteen, Minato was already displaying the kind of promise that made him valuable in Hiruzen's plans. Danzo knew it was only a matter of time before Hiruzen pulled Kakashi from the Uchiha's team, likely transferring him to Minato within the next half-year.
"Hiruzen won't let the Uchiha have a hold over Kakashi," Danzo thought. "He wants Kakashi to fill Sakumo's void."
Then, Danzo's gaze landed on a line that made him pause. Jiraiya was pushing for Minato to gain access to a jutsu from the Forbidden Scroll.
"Tch. I won't allow that," Danzo muttered, a touch of disdain creeping into his voice. Did Jiraiya truly think any prodigy could master those techniques? He doubted Minato had the capacity, but he knew Hiruzen's approval was inevitable. "Minato is part of Hiruzen's plans. He'll allow it, no question."
Danzo clicked his tongue, his irritation laced with grudging respect. Hiruzen would never let Orochimaru become Hokage; he needed a controllable figurehead, not someone with Orochimaru's ambition. Jiraiya, despite his strength, lacked the political mind for the role. Tsunade, paralyzed by her hemophobia, was out of the question. The White Fang is already dead. No need to consider the Uchiha as a competitor.
With his main rivals eliminated, Hiruzen had no challengers for the Hokage position—at least not until he could put his own plans into motion.
then there was Minato. Civilian-born but talented, student of Jiraiya and soon-to-be husband to the Nine-Tails' Jinchuriki. Danzo pondered it all, pieces falling into place in his mind.
Hiruzen had cultivated bonds between them, ensuring Minato's loyalty by tying him to Kushina. It was a calculated move, a way to keep Minato from going rogue and to prevent Kushina from ever taking independent action. Danzo begrudgingly admired Hiruzen's methods, though he would never admit it openly.
"He should have let me handle her," Danzo thought with disdain."I would have shaped her into the perfect weapon, molded her without question or hesitation—a tool in absolute service to the village."
But Hiruzen, with his ideals, had never fully appreciated what true loyalty looked like.
"The Third Ninja War has begun. Many will die, and many will survive—but I will use this chaos to rise above them all. Just wait, Hiruzen. I will become Hokage."
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