Konoha Year 54, December 13.
On the outskirts of the village, beneath a broken cliff where he had trained as a child, Kakashi stood scarfed and straight, headband slanted. Moke kept his hands clasped behind his back, taking in the forests of the Land of Fire. In his previous life he had never traveled; he had never seen a green ocean of evergreens that stayed lush even when winter sun chased the snow away.
Moke already had a rough plan for Kakashi. One day he would graft White Zetsu cells to boost Kakashi's chakra and balance the Sharingan. When the time came, Obito's eye would also have to be reclaimed. Twin Kamui was one of the strongest Mangekyo pairs in existence; even the Kaguya arc had felt its bite when Kakashi borrowed Obito's power.
That was for later. As a lifelong shut-in at heart, Moke believed in tomorrow's work staying with tomorrow. Today he wanted to see what Kakashi could really do.
"Kakashi, you start. Show me your strength."
"Yes, teacher."
The formality felt right. Teachers often traded blows before teaching. Moke had reshaped his face the night before; a teacher should not look like a kid.
"And use your normal arsenal. I'll suppress my abilities and go all out on defense. Don't worry about hurting me."
He was curious to see what a textbook shinobi fight looked like.
"Understood!"
Kakashi flashed the seal of confrontation; Moke did not return it. Kakashi let it pass. For a man who felt like a hermit-sage, Moke often ignored shinobi etiquette.
Kakashi dropped back, lifted the headband, and the three-tomoe Sharingan spun to life. His fingers blurred through Ox → Snake → Ram.
Water Release: Hidden Mist.
A thick tide of fog poured from his mouth and swallowed the cliff base. Moke studied the living eddies of mist. Visibility fell to an arm's length. He swept a palm; wind carved a lane that filled in an instant.
Footsteps came from left, right, and ahead. Three Kakashi burst from the haze with kunai in forward grips.
A probe. Moke slipped through the slashing triangles on reflex alone; even without formal taijutsu, his body and senses carried him.
"Kakashi, did you forget I have heart-sense."
He twisted past the triple lock of steel and heel-kicked behind him.
The real Kakashi had burrowed up like a mole. He ate the kick and burst into smoke. The tug came from below. Doton hands clamped Moke's ankle and yanked him into the earth.
A feint on all four fronts. The real one used the strike's rhythm and attacked from underground.
No. The pull was a decoy too. A faint tremor rippled through the soil. Moke's observation told him the changes, though not the target.
All four are clones. Then where is the real one. Still in the mist, or…
There.
He lifted his gaze to one of the feinting Kakashi. More precisely, to the kunai in that clone's hand.
Compared to the others, that clone's motion was a hair stiff. Moke had dismissed it. Now he saw it: the true body was hiding as the weapon.
Transformation Technique was stranger than he expected. He recalled Naruto's shuriken feint, Kiba's dog trick. He had not thought a full-grown man could shrink into a knife.
With a pop the kunai exploded into smoke. Blue light flared behind it and the air filled with a thousand birds.
Chidori. Paired with Sharingan's sight, it became the S-rank Raikiri.
The true Kakashi blitzed from the mist, lightning in his hand aimed straight between Moke's eyes.
Too slow. Moke's right arm hammered up out of the ground, caught Kakashi's wrist in a clean clamp… and the real finisher arrived the instant their eyes met. A needle-fine sway swam through Moke's vision. The Sharingan genjutsu had been the checkmate after all the scaffolding.
It lasted a blink. Three souls vibrated in unison, the copies in Moke's spirit snapped him free, and Kakashi's knees went out as his chakra bottomed. He dropped to the dirt.
Moke stared, genuinely impressed.
Of course it's you, Kakashi. You can force a fifty-fifty with anyone for a little while.
—
Moke stepped cleanly out of the ground, spiritual pressure shedding soil like water. He eyed the panting jonin without much pity.
Right. I forgot your name is also a unit of measure. I didn't even push and you're empty.
Still, he had a measure of the man. Floor: jonin. Ceiling: can threaten a Kage with a perfect setup. Burst and strategy were sharp, but against opponents who were durable or dirty, Kakashi's poor stamina made upsets likely.
The fight IQ was solid. Seeing that normal tools could not harm Moke, Kakashi spent everything to buy one clean look for genjutsu.
If it were a standard Kage… no, a standard Kage would not stand still to get worked. Alone, he could probably solo an elite jonin, but one misstep and the match flipped.
The Sharingan, as is, barely helped. No Mangekyo, no special tricks, just copying and motion tracking; it might be weaker for him right now than a pure path in the Hatake blade style.
In this world, flourish was fluff. In the end you measured chakra. Shinra Tensei was grand, but one pulse with an empty tank meant nothing. Even the Eight Gates were shackles undone to flood the body with borrowed fuel. Naruto and Sasuke at Six Paths still needed Six Paths power to cast Planetary Devastation at that level.
"Enough rest. You are way too fragile."
"Apologies, teacher. I disappointed you."
The one heartbeat of control over Moke had cost far more chakra than Kakashi guessed.
"It isn't all on you. The Sharingan doesn't suit your body. It drinks chakra."
Moke pressed a palm to Kakashi's abdomen and poured in a warm current. Fatigue peeled away.
"Teacher, this is…"
"My chakra. Purified. You've mastered the basics. In this state there is not much point in new techniques. From tomorrow, train like you want to die."
He thought of the Green Beast and set the bar.
"Start with Gai. Grind taijutsu. When you hit your limit, keep your Sharingan active. Burn it. My chakra should carry you for quite a while. When you run dry, come find me."
He had infused only a few hundred "calories," enough to keep Kakashi dangerous for a week or two.
Kakashi hesitated. "Taijutsu I understand. My stamina is awful. But the eye… I feel like my Sharingan already covers what I need in battle. Wouldn't training other ninjutsu be better."
Moke looked at him, amused. They were the same apparent age now, both eighteen or nineteen. With the mask, Kakashi was absurdly handsome. Without it he might be a little less than the legend, he thought.
"Do you know why I said Uchiha Shisui is Konoha's strongest right now."
Not counting Jiraiya, Moke added silently.
Shisui. His Body Flicker is famous and he has three tomoe like me, but he is only seventeen. I should not be that far behind. Unless…
Kakashi remembered the swirling pattern in the masked man's eye in the Death Forest. His face went cold.
"So the three tomoe can still evolve."
"You guessed it. Three tomoe is not the top. There are higher stages. Shisui has reached one. It is called the Mangekyo Sharingan."
Kakashi's brows knit. "But, teacher, I am not Uchiha. Can I evolve an eye that isn't mine. And even if I did, I can barely sustain three tomoe. If it awakened… I might get weaker."
"You are already there. Your Sharingan has long since crossed that threshold. Your strength simply cannot wake it yet."
Moke clapped his shoulder. He was getting bored. Time to go home and play cards. This time he would make Kushina play partners. Two of hers, two of his, truly fair.
He turned away, voice trailing back on a ribbon of sound.
"Just train. Solving your chakra problem is my job as your teacher."
"One more thing. Might Guy is probably top five in Konoha right now. If he opened the Eighth Gate today, even I would step aside. Chase him."
"Oh, and tomorrow bring every copy of Icha Icha you have hidden at home to my place. You will get them back when your Mangekyo opens."
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