Within three seconds, only Arata's head remained above the surface.
The swamp gurgled around him, pulling harder with every heartbeat.
Then—
Puff!
A cloud of white smoke erupted.
The body sinking into the mire transformed into a log.
"Hmm… Substitution Technique, huh?"
A faint voice echoed from the darkness, calm and amused.
"Not bad. You've learned to use the basics like a real shinobi."
The real Arata reappeared several meters away, crouched low, chest rising and falling rapidly.
He wasn't relieved — only more alert.
That jutsu was meant to kill me.
His eyes scanned the dark treeline, every sense on edge.
Who the hell is this?
I've never even offended anyone. Why would someone this strong come after me?
The kunai earlier hadn't been a warning. They'd been aimed to pierce through bone.
The branches ahead shifted.
A figure stepped into the moonlight — masked, calm, and radiating oppressive strength.
"Impressive," the stranger said evenly. "You're already at least chūnin level."
Arata's throat tightened. The man's voice was familiar, but the killing intent beneath it was faint — controlled.
Whoever he is, he's not trying to kill me.
If he wanted me dead, I wouldn't still be breathing.
Still, the sheer pressure radiating from him made even Tōichi seem weak in comparison.
The masked man stopped a few paces away.
Arata didn't move.
"…I don't recall offending you."
The man tilted his head. "Come with me."
Then, without another word, he turned and started walking.
Arata hesitated.
Every instinct told him to run.
But reason won out.
If he really wanted me dead, he'd have done it already.
With a quiet breath, Arata followed.
They crossed the empty streets, passed through the treeline, and finally reached the same lake Arata's team had cleaned just the day before.
Moonlight shimmered across the water's surface.
As the masked man stepped closer to the lake, a pale glint of silver hair caught Arata's eye.
His heart skipped a beat.
"…White hair? No way—"
When the man reached up and pulled down his mask, Arata's suspicion was confirmed.
Hatake Kakashi.
Arata exhaled sharply, a mix of tension and disbelief fading into confusion.
"Thank goodness… it's really you."
But that relief didn't last long.
He stared at Kakashi, unsure what to say.
Why would he attack a genin from another squad?
Was this some kind of payback? Some message meant for his teacher, Kimoto Tōichi — the former Anbu interrogator?
Arata frowned slightly. Maybe they had bad blood in the past… and I just became the message.
Still, it made no sense. Kakashi wasn't the kind to lash out without reason.
The silence between them stretched awkwardly.
Kakashi stood by the lake, arms crossed, his expression unreadable behind that single visible eye.
He waited for Arata to speak — but the boy didn't.
So, eventually, Kakashi broke the stillness.
"Arata Jingwen," he said quietly. "You did well back there."
Arata said nothing. He just watched him, expression calm, eyes focused.
For some reason, that unshaken composure caught Kakashi off guard.
Most genin — even the confident ones — would be trembling or demanding answers by now.
This boy simply stood there.
Even Sasuke had more ego than this.
Kakashi scratched his head awkwardly.
"You're probably wondering why I attacked you."
Arata nodded slightly. "I assume it wasn't just to entertain yourself, Kakashi-sensei."
That earned a muffled chuckle.
Still, there was something in Kakashi's gaze — disappointment, maybe.
The kid was calm. Too calm.
He hadn't shown fear, anger, or even much curiosity.
He was simply… measuring.
That kind of detachment was rare, even among seasoned jōnin.
Finally, Kakashi turned fully toward him, moonlight gleaming off his silver hair.
"My attacks were strong enough that most chūnin wouldn't have survived. You handled them — barely, but cleanly."
He paused, watching Arata's reaction.
"Your current strength… already surpasses most mid-level shinobi."
Arata nodded slightly, neither humble nor proud.
"Maybe. But I can feel the difference between us. You could've ended that fight any time."
His voice was steady.
"In front of you, I didn't have a chance to resist — and I know it."
Kakashi studied him quietly, the faintest hint of approval flickering behind his mask.
He'd seen too many young shinobi blinded by praise, too many drunk on potential.
But Arata wasn't fooled.
He saw things clearly — almost clinically.
Just like Kakashi once had.
A breeze rolled across the lake, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Kakashi smiled faintly beneath his mask.
"Good. You understand your limits."
He turned his gaze toward the moon, his tone almost too casual.
"Tell me, Arata… do you know why I attacked you?"
Arata's eyes narrowed slightly. "To test me. Or to test something else."
Kakashi chuckled. "Smart kid."
Then, in that lazy, half-teasing voice that always hid something deeper, he said—
"Let's just say I wanted to see if Konoha still has shinobi worth betting on."
Arata blinked.
He didn't fully understand — but he knew one thing for certain:
Whatever Kakashi's purpose was…
it had nothing to do with hostility.
It was interest.
And that, somehow, was even more dangerous.
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