"Where... am I?" Kakashi said as he rose from his bed he sat there and observed his surroundings.
The room around him was immaculate, filled with an air of sophistication and opulence.
The walls were painted a soft ivory, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the light filtering through the tall windows. Heavy velvet curtains, a rich royal blue, framed the glass panes, offering a view of the winter landscape outside.
Snow blanketed the ground, sparkling like diamonds under the sun, and the distant peaks of mountains loomed majestically in the background.
Kakashi shifted his gaze to the furnishings.
A large, ornate bed dominated the room, its headboard intricately carved with motifs of elegant roses and vines. The plush bedding was a mix of whites and blues, creating a serene atmosphere that beckoned him to relax. A delicate lace canopy draped gracefully from the top of the bed, fluttering slightly with the gentle breeze that slipped through the cracked window.
Beside the bed stood a polished wooden nightstand, on which rested a small vase of fresh flowers—a burst of color against the room's muted tones.
He noticed a framed photograph next to it, though he couldn't discern its contents from his angle. The floor was covered with a soft, ivory carpet that cushioned his feet as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Against one wall, an elegant vanity table held various cosmetics and brushes, reflecting the soft light and adding to the room's charm. A large wardrobe with sliding doors stood opposite, its surface gleaming and adorned with delicate handles shaped like snowflakes.
As he rose from the bed and took in his surroundings, a wave of disorientation washed over him. The room was undeniably beautiful, yet it felt foreign as if he were stepping into someone else's life. The gentle sounds of laughter and music grew louder, hinting at a world beyond the confines of the room.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was meant to be somewhere else, doing something important. The echoes of his past life lingered in his mind, and a sense of urgency tugged at him.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, his body feeling strangely light, almost ethereal. Each step he took was tentative as he moved toward the window, curiosity drawing him closer. As he pulled the curtain aside, the brilliance of the outside world met his eyes—a sunny day with the Schnee garden below, a stark contrast to the chaos he had just escaped.
The garden was a breathtaking expanse of meticulously maintained beauty, adorned with vibrant flowers that danced gently in the soft breeze. Brilliant white lilies and delicate bluebells intermingled, their colors shining in the sunlight. A fountain bubbled in the center, its crystalline waters sparkling like diamonds, while small birds flitted from branch to branch, singing a sweet melody that filled the air.
Kakashi stayed silent as he collected his thoughts. He still felt a bit dizzy, but that wouldn't matter.
He looked at his body. It felt even lighter, younger even.
He stepped away from the window and opened the door, only to meet a butler who was about to knock.
Klein's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, bowing slightly. "Good morning, Master Rinko. I trust you are feeling well?"
Kakashi's brow furrowed as he instinctively tapped his body to check for any burn marks.
Memories of being crushed under the meteor, the searing heat enveloping him, flooded back.He remembered the pain, the overwhelming sensation of being fried from head to toe. But as his fingers brushed against his skin, he felt nothing but smooth, unblemished flesh beneath his fingertips.
No scars, no burns—nothing to indicate the intense suffering he had endured just moments before.
"I... I'm okay, I think," he replied, his voice steady but laced with confusion. "What happened to me?"
Klein straightened, his demeanor respectful and calm. "You were found unconscious in front of your room. I discovered you and immediately brought you inside. Fortunately, you seem to have recovered quite well."
Kakashi was still absorbing what Klein was saying when he instinctively stepped backward as the butler entered the room. His gaze landed on a nearby mirror, and a sense of unease began to settle in the pit of his stomach.
As he approached the mirror, he felt an odd sensation wash over him. His reflection stared back, but it wasn't the familiar face he had known for years.
The features were distinctly different—youthful, with soft, delicate lines that spoke of nobility. Silver-white hair framed his face, contrasting sharply with the porcelain skin that seemed to glow in the morning light.
He leaned closer, inspecting every detail: the shape of the eyes, the slight curve of the lips, the pointed chin.
They were features he had never seen before, yet they felt strangely familiar as if they belonged to him but were entirely foreign at the same time.
This was not the face of Kakashi Hatake, the legendary Copy Ninja; it belonged to someone, a boy with blue eyes and snow-like hair.
Panic flickered in his chest, but he pushed it down, focusing on the calm demeanor he had honed as a shinobi. "What happened to me?" he murmured, half to himself and half to Klein, who observed him quietly from the doorway.
"I was..." Kakashi muttered, the memories of his past life flooded back—his battles, his friends, and the tragic end that had left him in despair. Was this some kind of afterlife? A rebirth? He felt like a ghost haunting his own body.
"Your family believes you've simply been resting too much," Klein said, his voice soothing. "They care for you deeply, and they were worried when you didn't join them last night."