The short blade danced in Kakashi's hand, merging seamlessly with the swirling mist rising from the waterfall.
Each movement of the blade seemed deliberate, yet fluid, precise, yet wild. The trajectory blurred at times, weaving in patterns of hesitation and confusion. It mirrored the turbulence inside Kakashi's heart—a storm he had long ignored.
His mind drifted.
Faces appeared—familiar, aching, haunting. Memories he had long buried surfaced one by one.
Sakumo Hatake. The White Fang of Konoha, a legendary ninja whose reputation rivaled the greatest of his time. Yet forced into despair by a failed mission and the betrayal of a comrade, he had chosen to end his own life. Kakashi had been left with guilt, anger, and helplessness.
Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage. The man who had given everything for the village, sacrificing himself to seal the Nine-Tails. Minato's devotion, his optimism, his unyielding faith in the future—these had always inspired Kakashi, yet left him hollow when tragedy struck.
And Rin… sweet, gentle Rin. A girl he had once protected with all his heart, whose life had been cut short amidst wars he could neither prevent nor undo.
All those he cherished had vanished, leaving only echoes and regret.
The one constant that remained, strangely, was Obito.
Even now, Obito had changed. His ideals had warped, his mind twisted by the scars of life and loss. He spoke of destruction as a means of healing his own pain. He had become radical, insane in Kakashi's eyes.
Yet in Kakashi's heart, he could not summon true hatred. Obito was still his friend—the one who had once fought by his side, who had bled and endured alongside him during the Third Great Ninja War. Their trust had been forged in blood, sweat, and silent understanding.
The softest part of Kakashi's heart—the part reserved for loyalty, for connection—remained untouched. It was still dedicated to Obito.
But guilt gnawed at him relentlessly.
If Obito's path of destruction comes to pass, if the world itself falls under his hands… will I not also be an accomplice? Am I not a culprit in this unfolding chaos?
The more he thought, the more his blade faltered. The controlled elegance of his earlier practice gave way to chaotic swings. Even the icy mist seemed to shudder with his indecision.
Obito noticed.
From the shadows, his single exposed eye narrowed. Something is wrong with Kakashi… something has shifted.
The blade flickered in the icy mist, reflecting shards of light and frost like a fractured mirror of Kakashi's soul.
Kakashi sighed softly, a low sound that seemed swallowed by the roar of the waterfall. His eyes dimmed as memories cascaded through him.
"Teacher… have I disappointed you?"
His voice trembled slightly. The words were almost a whisper, yet weighted with years of regret and longing.
"But… I need to protect Obito."
The admission hung in the air, fragile yet resonant. Obito's eye widened, complex emotions stirring beneath his mask.
This bastard… talking like that… Obito thought, a strange mix of disbelief and something softer stirring within him.
Kakashi's focus sharpened suddenly, his mind catching on a thought long avoided.
Minato Namikaze had had a child.
Born the night the Nine-Tails had attacked, the child had been burdened from birth with the fate of a Jinchūriki. Uzumaki Naruto, the child who inherited the weight of his parents' hope and sacrifice.
Kakashi's past self had ignored the boy. He had turned away from the truth of Naruto's existence, unwilling to confront the memory, unwilling to face responsibility for the legacy of those he had lost.
But now…
Now, a burning curiosity surged in him. A need to know, to see, to understand. He needed to witness how the boy carried his parents' legacy, how he survived, how he grew.
The desire was fierce, unyielding, unstoppable. It spread through him like wildfire, leaving no room for hesitation.
I must see him. I must understand him. I cannot remain indifferent any longer.
Kakashi slowly sheathed his short blade, the mist gently brushing against his face as if acknowledging his decision.
"Naruto…" he murmured, the single name carrying both determination and affection.
A low, hoarse voice interrupted him from behind.
"Kakashi, I didn't expect you to use a blade again."
Obito stood there, silent yet imposing. The mask covered most of his face, but the one visible eye revealed a depth of emotion, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.
He watched as Kakashi's movements had danced through the mist, fluid and precise, yet tempered with inner turmoil. The sight brought memories rushing back—of their youth, their shared victories, their battles, their training.
The boy he once knew… the genius Kakashi, proud and spirited… seemed to have returned, alive in every stroke, every slash.
And yet, guilt shadowed that brilliance.
Obito felt it piercingly. Kakashi's previous words—about protecting him, about his responsibility—struck deeply, reminding him of all he had lost, all he had become.
After a long pause, his own voice broke the silence.
"Kakashi… actually… there's something I've never told you."
Kakashi's eyes met his, alert now. "What is it?"
Obito's voice was heavier, layered with self-blame and sorrow. "The Nine-Tails incident… I caused it."
Kakashi's pupils constricted violently. The short blade in his hand shivered slightly.
"Obito… you…" he choked, emotions roiling like a storm inside him. He had suspected, but hearing it from Obito's own mouth brought a shock that threatened to unbalance him completely.
Obito's voice trembled. "Teacher… they… Minato and his wife… they died because of my foolishness. They could have lived, lived peacefully… and Naruto should have had his parents. All of it… my fault. Kakashi… will you blame me?"
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.
Kakashi exhaled slowly, a faint trace of bitterness and relief crossing his face. He stepped forward, closing the distance. His Sharingan glimmered softly in the mist.
"Obito… since you didn't blame me for Rin's death back then, how could I possibly blame you for what happened to Minato?"
His voice grew steadier, firmer, suffused with resolve. "The root of all tragedies lies not in us… but in this Ninja World, shrouded in hatred and misunderstanding."
He drew his short blade once more, letting the steel catch the cold mist, reflecting light and shadow alike. "This blade… it has been silent too long… but now… for you… it can dance again."
As he spoke, the Sharingan in both of their eyes resonated, a surge of power and emotion binding them.
Obito's exposed eye widened in shock, heart pounding. He had expected anger, hatred, perhaps even rejection. Yet here stood Kakashi, unwavering, offering not blame but understanding. A warmth he had thought lost returned to him.
Kakashi sheathed the blade fully now, gaze soft, steady, resolute.
"Obito… the past is gone. What matters now is the choice we make next."
"I've decided… to go see our teacher's child, Naruto. To see the young man who carries the hopes of our fallen comrades. Obito… will you come with me?"
For a moment, Obito's chest trembled. He had never imagined that such a promise could move him so deeply, after so many years, after all the darkness he had embraced.
"Thank you, Kakashi," he whispered, voice heavy with emotion and apology.
"But… I'll leave Naruto to you," he added, eyes lingering on the friend who had once been his whole world.
Compared to Naruto, his concern for Sasuke was far greater, tangled with strategy, obsession, and a flicker of paternal thought. Yet for now, he allowed Kakashi to lead, silently conceding this path.
In the mist and frost of the waterfall, two former comrades, scarred by loss and time, stood together. The air hummed with unspoken resolve. Sharingan eyes met, reflecting the weight of the past, the hope for the future, and the silent promise that some bonds could never be broken.
The short blade, once still, now danced again—carried not by anger, not by vengeance, but by loyalty, understanding, and the quiet flame of determination.
The dance had returned.
And with it, a new chapter of their shared destiny began.
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