Outside Konoha's temporary encampment.
The night was hushed, the forest beyond the camp swallowed in darkness, with only the faint crackle of distant torches holding back the shadows.
Jiraiya walked with steady steps to a tent at the edge of the camp, where Kakashi was stationed. For a moment, he lingered at the entrance, his hand gripping the fabric as though uncertain whether to intrude. Finally, he exhaled, lifted the flap, and stepped inside.
Kakashi sat alone on a simple chair, posture relaxed but gaze sharp, the kind of stillness that carried the weight of constant vigilance. His mask and headband hid his face as always, but Jiraiya could sense the quiet intensity beneath.
Jiraiya broke the silence with a sigh and a gentle pat on Kakashi's shoulder. "Kakashi, it's late. Shouldn't you try to rest?"
Kakashi glanced up, offering a faint, almost tired smile."Naruto's asleep. I want to keep watch a little longer."
His voice carried no complaint, only quiet resolve.
Jiraiya nodded. He stood still for a beat, then his expression hardened, a rare solemnity settling over him."Actually… I just came back from the Uchiha compound. There's been… trouble."
Kakashi's single visible eye sharpened. He leaned forward slightly, listening.
"The Second Hokage—and Orochimaru—used Edo Tensei to summon Uchiha Shisui. They wanted him to undo Uchiha Gen's apocalyptic wish."
Jiraiya paused, his tone grave."But things spun far out of control. Instead of resolving the crisis, it may have made everything worse."
The tent fell into a heavy silence. Kakashi lowered his gaze, thinking, then spoke slowly, voice like steel wrapped in calm."The mutation… if it spreads, it could infect bloodlines. But even then, it might require precise triggers. Not every Sharingan would fall prey immediately."
After a moment, he lifted his eye again, cool and unwavering."Still… Lord Tobirama's methods are becoming extreme. That's what worries me."
Jiraiya's lips tightened. He followed Kakashi's glance toward Naruto, curled beneath his blanket, sleeping peacefully. Then Jiraiya's gaze returned to Kakashi, weighty and serious."Kakashi, your Sharingan—and the curse of Uchiha Gen—are at the very heart of Lord Tobirama's concerns. Tsunade and I have spoken of this often. That power is strange, dangerous, and its pull on the Sharingan is undeniable."
Kakashi was quiet for a long moment, then finally asked in a low tone:"Tell me, Lord Jiraiya… aren't you worried that I've already been infected?"
The question caught Jiraiya off guard. His eyes flickered with something unspoken, but he quickly masked it with a bitter smile."To say I'm not worried… would be a lie. But listen, Kakashi. If we were to treat you like an outcast because of fear—if we forced you into isolation or repeated a tragedy like the one that fell on your father—that's something I could never accept. Even the old man… even Hiruzen himself, would never allow such cruelty again."
His smile turned weary, yet earnest."We all know Tobirama has his reasons. His logic is unshakable. But people aren't just tools, Kakashi. We're shinobi, yes, but we're human too. Severing all bonds… living without emotion… that isn't survival—it's despair."
The weight of his words lingered in the air.
Jiraiya leaned closer, voice quieter, cautious but probing."So… what about you? Do you believe you've been infected?"
For the first time, doubt cracked Kakashi's calm. His visible eye clouded with conflict. After a long silence, he finally murmured:"…I can't say for certain. But one thing I know without doubt—I want to protect Naruto. I want to protect the comrades I still have. That desire, that emotion—it's real. Infection or not, it doesn't change that."
Jiraiya's hardened expression softened. He clapped Kakashi's shoulder firmly, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes."That's enough for me. Just keep being you, Kakashi. And above all—take care of Naruto."
With that, Jiraiya turned and left, his white mane brushing the tent flap as he stepped back into the night.
Inside, Kakashi let out a slow breath, as if a weight had finally pressed down upon him. His shoulders sagged slightly, and for a fleeting moment, the mask of calm cracked—revealing the exhaustion hidden beneath.
Alone, with only the sound of Naruto's steady breathing, he closed his eye and whispered to himself:"…I'll protect them. No matter what."
Guarding Naruto day and night, fully aware of the turbulence brewing in both the Land of Water and Konoha, Kakashi never dared to truly close his eyes. His body screamed for rest, his mind frayed to the edge of collapse. Every rustle in the dark made his fingers twitch toward his kunai, and yet the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him relentlessly.
Unbeknownst to him, his body finally betrayed him. Outside the tent, leaning against a post, Kakashi slipped into a shallow doze.
In that haze, it felt as if he were falling—sinking into a fathomless void. Shadows swallowed his senses, until he drifted in a realm of endless darkness and silence.
Then, a voice rang out.
Old, solemn, yet strangely gentle.
"Kakashi Hatake…"
His eyes snapped open. He found himself no longer at the campsite, but within a boundless dreamscape where the sky had no stars, only endless stillness. Floating in the emptiness before him was an old man—quiet, imposing, and otherworldly.
Two horns crowned his head, his long, gray-white hair cascaded down his shoulders, and a flowing robe of pure white wrapped around his tall frame. Six black magatama marked his chest, while his back bore the red swirl crest and the nine-square magatama pattern. In his hand rested a peculiar staff, and though his face was kind, there was majesty in his gaze—a calm depth that seemed to weigh entire eras.
Kakashi's breath caught. "You are…"
The old man gave a faint smile. "This old man is Otsutsuki Hagoromo. The name you are more familiar with… is the Sage of Six Paths."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Kakashi's face tightened. Sage of Six Paths? For a heartbeat, he wondered if he had fallen prey to some elaborate genjutsu.
But as if reading his mind, the Sage reassured him gently, "This is no illusion. I have been watching you… through Asura's reincarnation."
Kakashi's brow furrowed. "Watching me? Why?"
The Sage's eyes softened. "Because you are different from the others who have been tainted by Uchiha Gen's power. Though your Sharingan carries his curse, your will has not surrendered. You keep the darkness caged, never allowing it to consume you."
But before he could finish, Kakashi cut him off coldly, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Enough."
He didn't flinch, didn't bow, didn't waver. Instead, he glared at the legendary figure before him, unshaken.
"Whether it's you or Uchiha Gen, I don't care. I won't hear another word of your schemes. You're all the same type of people but simply on different sides—arrogant. So arrogant it disgusts me."
His voice grew heavier, like lead.
"You change people's lives, twist their destinies, as if they're nothing more than shogi pieces on a board. To you, it's all a game, isn't it? Looking down on us from above, pulling strings no one asked you to touch."
For a moment, silence filled the void. Then the Sage exhaled slowly, his gaze deepening with an almost imperceptible sadness.
"This old man does not wish to use you, Kakashi. I only wish to guide. The balance of this world is faltering. The storm is near, and the choice of a single man may decide the fate of nations."
His voice lowered, as though weighed by inevitability.
"Tobirama Senju is in mortal danger. His path may lead to a disaster that will consume the Land of Water. If you truly reject my guidance, then at least—for Konoha's sake—go to him. Prevent the tragedy before it takes root."
At that name, Kakashi's eyes sharpened. His heart stirred, his chest tightening with conflict. Tobirama. Of all people…
The man who never trusted him. The man who looked at him with suspicion, as though waiting for him to fail. And yet…
Kakashi's silence stretched. His fists clenched at his sides.
He despised being manipulated. He despised the idea of bowing to another's "arrangements." But this was Konoha. His village. His comrades. And even if Tobirama rejected him, even if his very presence was cursed—Kakashi knew where his duty lay.
Because deep down, he was already fractured.
Contaminated.
Walking the same path as Obito, spiraling toward ruin with every single choice he made. He was painfully aware of it, more than anyone else.
That was his torment.
His punishment.
His curse.
And now, the Sage's words only drove the knife deeper.
No.
I can't…
I won't… become like my father.
But Father…
Tell me… what should I do?