Fast!
Such a fast blade!
Intelligence failure!
A grave miscalculation!
The village's assessment of Konoha's renowned Kakashi had been disastrously off the mark!
As their captain vanished beneath that terrifying flash of steel, the three surviving Kumogakure shinobi froze in place, rooted to the ground.
Their captain's strength had been undeniable—they'd all witnessed it firsthand.
What kind of power did Kakashi possess to fell him with a single strike?
At just seventeen, he was every bit the equal of Minato Namikaze at the same age!
Shock gripped the remaining Kumogakure shinobi, but the man with the blade granted them no reprieve.
Your turn.
The white-haired youth stepped forward, and in an instant, his figure vanished, leaving only crackling sparks of electricity dancing across the empty earth where he'd stood.
In the pitch-black night, the gleam of Konoha's White Fang burned like a beacon. A single slash unleashed a blinding arc of light. The Kumogakure shinobi clutching the Hyūga heiress felt the world spin, his bearings lost in a dizzying whirl.
Thud.
He hit the ground hard—and stared down at a pair of feet.
His own.
The white-haired youth gently lifted the Hyūga heiress from the man's limp arms and turned toward the two survivors, blade resting lightly in one hand.
"You… you can't kill us."
"We came in peace…"
His words cut off abruptly.
Steel kissed his throat.
"S-see? You wouldn't dare—"
A crimson line bloomed across his neck as the blade flashed.
Kakashi stepped over the collapsing body without a glance and fixed his gaze on the last man.
The final Kumogakure shinobi stared in wide-eyed horror at the youth who'd dispatched three men without so much as blinking, now striding toward him with murderous calm. Cold dread prickled every inch of his skin; he stumbled back on instinct.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder, holding him fast.
He whipped around in panic—and met a pair of luminous, pale eyes.
"Kakashi, return my daughter to me."
"Then hand this one over to the Hokage."
Hyūga Hiashi had arrived.
Kakashi cradled Hinata close, meeting Hiashi's gaze with cool detachment. A single word left his lips.
"Done."
At his response, several figures materialized from the shadows. One rushed forward, face darkening as he took in the three mutilated corpses strewn across the ground.
"Kakashi, you've just started a firestorm."
The jōnin squad leader—head of the Nara clan, Nara Shikaku.
Kakashi's earlier strike had rung like a thunderclap, rousing every expert in the village.
The Nara compound lay closest.
"What did I do wrong?"
Kakashi's eye flicked toward him, unyielding.
Process and outcome aside—he'd thwarted Kumogakure's greed for the Byakugan and crushed their scheme in its cradle. That deserved praise.
Yet—
"We of Kumogakure came to Konoha in good faith to sign a peace treaty!" the last envoy spat. "Is this how you treat guests?!"
"Do you want the war to drag on?!"
Perhaps emboldened by Shikaku's presence—or by the man's own hesitation—the Kumogakure shinobi rounded on Kakashi with righteous fury.
"You—!"
The surrounding Konoha shinobi bristled, glaring daggers at the envoy's audacity.
But no one spoke. No one moved.
He was a peace envoy.
And war… war was a specter too cruel to invite back.
"Our Raikage carries the world in his heart!" the envoy roared. "He couldn't bear to see more lives lost, so he extended an olive branch!"
"And this is how you repay him?!"
This is how you repay him!
"Konoha will answer for this!"
Emboldened by the stifled rage around him, the envoy's arrogance swelled. His glare bored into Kakashi.
So what if he was the famous Copy Ninja?
So what if Konoha was the strongest village in the shinobi world?
They still had to bow.
"Who gave you the gall?"
Kakashi's voice cut through the night, flat and cold.
"Kakashi—!"
Shikaku sensed the shift and reached out to stop him.
His hand froze mid-air.
An arm hit the ground with a wet thud.
The envoy's.
When?
When had he even drawn?
Shikaku stared as Kakashi slowly sheathed his blade, words dying in his throat.
This was the prodigy who'd made jōnin at twelve, five years ago—who'd forged his own S-rank technique from nothing.
What heights had he reached now?
Shikaku watched the youth whose strike had outpaced even his seasoned eye, and for a moment, another figure superimposed itself over him.
A white-haired man in his prime.
A single blade that had once made the entire shinobi world tremble.
Konoha's White Fang—Sakumo Hatake.
His father.
Has the student surpassed the master…?
"Aaah—!"
"Aaaaaaah—!"
"Hahahahaha!"
"You're finished, Kakashi Hatake!" the envoy shrieked, clutching the stump of his arm. Pain twisted his face, but madness lit his eyes. "You're done! Hahahaha!"
"You're the sinner of it all!"
"I left him breathing," Kakashi said, voice like frost, "not out of mercy."
"The Yamanaka clan's mind techniques can scour his memories. We'll know if 'peace' was ever their intent."
"I imagine you're more familiar with their arts than I am, Shikaku-san."
He didn't spare the raving envoy another glance.
Shikaku's cheek twitched. He opened his mouth—then closed it, throat dry.
All he managed was a strained:
"…Good."
Too rigid, and you'll snap, Kakashi.
Shikaku watched the youth turn away, oblivious to the eyes tracking him. He reclaimed the hand of the dazed, golden-haired child beneath the lamppost and walked off into the night.
As Shikaku moved to report to the Hokage, his gaze swept the gathered Konoha shinobi.
He froze.
Admiration. Gratitude. Yearning.
So that's it, Kakashi…
People follow strength.
And strength?
It's doing what others won't—can't—dare not do.
Power without the will to wield it is just hesitation wearing a mask.
When did I start wearing that mask…?
Shikaku's gaze settled on the still-ranting envoy. His expression hardened.
"Take him to the hospital," he ordered, voice low and grave. "See that he's well cared for."
As Kakashi's silhouette faded into the darkness, Shikaku felt a pang—grief for his own faltering resolve, and a quieter sorrow for the boy who'd chosen the harder path.
Kakashi…
Are you ready to pay the price of being strong?
————
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