Kakashi stared at the balloon, then at Renjiro, then back at the balloon. The absurdity of the situation pressed against his skull like a physical weight.
He had been a jōnin for a while. ANBU. War veteran. One of the most accomplished shinobi of his generation. And now he was being told to start with a water balloon? The same exercise he had completed as a genin, under Minato's patient instruction, when the Rasengan was still a theory being tested?
"I trained this extensively with Sensei," Kakashi said, "When he was developing the Rasengan."
Renjiro's expression didn't change. He simply waited.
Kakashi pressed on, the words coming faster now, driven by something that felt like pride but tasted like fear.
"I'm not sure what you can offer beyond what he already taught me." A pause. "No offence… but you're not exactly like Sensei."
Renjiro tilted his head slightly, "In what way?"
Kakashi felt the shift in atmosphere but couldn't identify its source. He answered honestly, the words coming from a place he hadn't fully examined.
"While I respect you as a shinobi, Sensei—" He paused, searching for the right words. "He's a genius. A creator. He doesn't just master techniques; he invents them."
Kakashi didn't realise what he had done. But Renjiro did.
'This bastard.'
The thought was ice-cold, cutting through the calm he had maintained all morning. For a moment—just a moment—he considered it. The Rasenshuriken. Forming it here, now, in this ruined training ground. Letting Kakashi see what true invention looked like.
He bit the inside of his mouth. The sharp taste of copper grounded him.
'No.'
The flash of impulse subsided, controlled, suppressed. He had nothing to prove, certainly not to Kakashi.
His Sharingan activated.
The tomoe spun, once, twice—and then they shifted. The tri-wheel Mangekyō gazed out at Kakashi, and the world became very, very small.
Renjiro's voice, when it came, was not loud. It didn't need to be.
"If your sensei is that great… go ask him about the Sharingan."
Kakashi froze.
'So this is the Mangekyō...'
The thought was distant, academic, as if coming from somewhere outside his own skull. He had heard the war stories. Everyone had. No one had ever described the eyes clearly. The descriptions were always the same: pattern, swirl, impossible. As if the mind refused to hold the image. As if looking directly at them was something the brain protected itself from.
He understood now.
He had seen battlefields where Renjiro had fought. The aftermath. The silence. The absence of prolonged engagement. You either ended the fight immediately, or you didn't end it at all. There was no in-between.
Kakashi forced himself to breathe. To think. To rebuild the composure that had served him through ANBU missions and war.
"I apologise," he said, and the words came out steadier than he felt. "I didn't mean to imply—" He stopped, regrouped. "Sorry, I said Sensei is better."
The words hung in the air. Renjiro's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes shifted.
Kakashi realised, too late, what he had done.
Renjiro's voice was dry, "So let me get this straight."
He began to walk, slow and casual, the water balloon dangling from one hand. "I put you under genjutsu—twice. I beat you in a fight, without effort. I offered to train you, for free..."
He stopped a few feet away, tilting the balloon so it caught the light.
"And you're still begging me for more?"
Kakashi opened his mouth. Closed it. There was no defence. No argument. Nothing he could say wouldn't make it worse.
Renjiro turned the water balloon over in his hands, studying it as if it held the secrets of the universe. Something that made the hair on the back of Kakashi's neck stand up.
"I used a basic genjutsu on you. Twice. Enough to knock you out, nothing more."
A pause.
"I've been… gentle."
The word landed like a stone in still water.
Kakashi's mind, trained for threat assessment, began calculating distances, angles, and escape routes. The calculations were grim. There were no good options.
Renjiro looked up from the balloon, "You have two choices."
His voice was calm. Non-negotiable. A statement of fact, not opinion.
"Take the balloon. Do the exercise. Shut up and learn."
He paused. The Mangekyō spun lazily, patient, eternal.
"Or refuse. I'll cancel the training. And you'll pay compensation for wasting my time."
Renjiro watched him, and for a moment—just a moment—something like satisfaction flickered in those impossible eyes.
'This was always going to happen,' Renjiro thought. *Our history. ANBU. Fighting together. It made him comfortable. Familiar. He forgot what I am.'
He thought about the past, about missions where they had been equals—or close enough. About the easy camaraderie that had grown between them over years of shared danger. Kakashi had never treated him as anything other than a peer. A friend, even.
He sighed internally. 'But I expected more from his behaviour. More awareness. More… respect for the gap between us.'
A strange thought surfaced, unbidden: 'If this were a book, we would've already started our training two chapters ago.'
He almost smiled. Almost.
Kakashi's spine tingled.
It wasn't the Mangekyō's pressure—that was still there, a constant weight at the edge of his consciousness—but something else. Something older. A memory, surfacing unbidden.
'Kiri. Ambush. The war.'
Kakashi's throat was dry.
Renjiro's voice cut through the memory.
"You will be the fourth target."
Kakashi's eye widened.
"Kushina." Renjiro counted off on his fingers. "Minato. Sama." A pause. "And now you."
The names landed like blows. Kushina—the Nine-Tails jinchūriki, one of the most powerful shinobi alive. Minato—the Yellow Flash, the man who had turned the tide of the war single-handedly. And Sama—Minato's sister.
'If those two fell to his genjutsu…'
The thought didn't finish. It didn't need to.
Kakashi's instincts, honed by years of survival, screamed at him to move. To run. To put distance between himself and the man who had just listed two living legends as casualties of his power.
He didn't run. He couldn't. His body had stopped listening to commands that weren't "hold the balloon and wait."
Renjiro's voice was almost gentle. Almost.
"First lesson of the Sharingan…"
He raised his hand, and the Mangekyō caught the light, patterns shifting, deepening, opening—
"Genjutsu—"
"I surrender."
The words came out raw, urgent, driven by an instinct older than pride. Kakashi moved before he could stop himself—not away, not toward, just forward, closing the distance, grabbing the water balloon as if it were a lifeline.
He stopped inches from Renjiro's chest, breathing hard, the absurd toy pressed against his palm like a shield.
"I surrender," he repeated, and this time the words were steadier. He forced himself to meet those terrible eyes.
"I crossed a line. I shouldn't have compared you to Sensei. I shouldn't have assumed I knew what you could teach."
A pause. His grip tightened on the balloon.
"I'm sorry."
Renjiro studied him for a long, breathless moment. The Mangekyō's pressure didn't ease, but it… shifted. Became something less like a blade at the throat and more like a hand on the shoulder. Still dominant. Still absolute. But not lethal.
He let out a soft sound. Not quite a sigh. Not quite a laugh.
"Hmph."
Kakashi felt his shoulders loosen a fraction. Not enough to relax—he wasn't sure he would ever fully relax around Renjiro again—but enough to breathe.
Renjiro reached out and took the water balloon from his unresisting fingers. He held it up between them, turning it slowly, letting the light catch on the thin rubber.
"You think it'll be that easy?"
Kakashi's mouth was dry. "No."
"Every dog has its day." Renjiro's voice was almost philosophical, as if discussing the weather. "You've had yours. Many of them, actually. War hero. ANBU captain."
He caught the balloon, stilling its motion. "But today…"
He met Kakashi's eyes, and for the first time, there was something almost like warmth in his expression. Something that might have been a smile, if smiles could be dangerous.
"You, my friend, will live in your purpose."
He tossed the balloon. Kakashi caught it.
"Today, you learn."
=====
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