The instant Kakashi saw what was on screen, he froze in his seat.
Then an emotion too complicated to name erupted like a volcano, shredding his composure in one blow.
He shot to his feet, staring at the screen.
"That… that can't be!"
This time, it wasn't the blurry red-haired glimpse from last night.
It was a clear, unmistakable figure.
A beautiful woman with bright, flame-red hair, an apron tied around her waist, and a warm, lively smile—busy in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Her side profile was gentle but spirited, her eyes bright and tender.
Uzumaki Kushina.
Kushina-senpai, alive and breathing as if she'd never left.
Not only that—
Kakashi's eyes darted across the background.
The cozy kitchen, the living room visible beyond it, the layout, the furnishings, the decorations on the wall…
This house… this style… this floor plan…
It's here. It has to be.
This is Minato-sensei and Kushina-senpai's home!
He was absolutely certain he wasn't wrong.
Back then, as Minato's most trusted student, Kakashi had visited countless times—
Even if some details differed slightly from his memories, the overall structure and feeling were identical.
But that home…
To erase all links between Naruto and Minato, and to protect Naruto's safety, the Third Hokage had ordered it sealed up shortly after the Nine-Tails incident.
Even the records were top-level classified.
Naruto couldn't possibly know this place existed.
Let alone its interior.
So what the hell was this?
If last night could still be written off as coincidence or subconscious projection—
Then what about now?
This perfectly clear image, this accurate location… there was no way it was coincidence.
And there was no way Naruto could've imagined it out of thin air.
[Ding! Kakashi Hatake's emotional fluctuation detected! Emotion Points +1000!]
"Kakashi-sensei? What's wrong?" Sakura's worried voice came from beside him.
She and Sasuke both looked at him, baffled.
To them, the screen showed nothing special—a gentle red-haired lady cooking in a warm home. Why was their teacher reacting like this?
…
In the last row, hidden in the unobservable shadows, Shigure rubbed his chin, eyes glittering with calculation.
He glanced at his system panel again.
Dream Master System
Current Dream Level: 1 (7450/100000)
Dream Targets: 1
Audience: 3
Dream Instance Limit: 1
Current Instance:"The Flash Lives" — In the night fate demanded death, the Yellow Flash crushed the enemy's scheme instead.
…
According to the system, these instances weren't empty hallucinations. They were "parallel-world fragments" simulated from reality itself.
In those fragments, a crucial historical node might shift, and a totally different future would bloom from it.
"Only something based on a 'realistic possibility' can stir genuine emotion to the maximum," Shigure murmured to himself. "Kakashi's reacting so strongly because he's not just seeing images—he's seeing a past or future that could have existed."
But he also understood the limitation.
At Level 1, he couldn't freely create instances or paint someone's dream on a blank canvas.
He could only choose a key life node of his target and make a "micro-adjustment."
He could change only that one decisive branch.
That was why he'd picked Naruto as his first target.
Naruto's life was overflowing with regrets and unrealized possibilities.
Change that first tragedy, and everything afterward would twist into a completely different shape.
That kind of massive contrast was the best catalyst for Emotion Points.
"Enjoy it," Shigure thought, eyes on the screen. "This is another possibility's 'reality.'"
…
Onscreen, dream-Naruto looked dazed.
He sat dumbly on a soft living-room sofa, staring blankly around.
This was… a home.
A clean, bright home—one that felt warm.
The air was rich with the smell of food coming from the kitchen next door.
He turned and saw a dining table covered with a checkered cloth, already laden with steaming dishes.
There was his favorite miso ramen, golden omelet rolls, fresh green salad, and a huge platter of simmered pork that looked incredible.
In the open kitchen at the other end of the room, a red-haired woman moved about.
Her motions were practiced. She hummed a little tune off-key while sprinkling seasoning into a pot.
Dream sunlight was always so bright, spilling through the window and outlining her face in soft gold.
Naruto's heart began to race.
Who was this red-haired lady?
She felt… familiar… close…
Just then, she seemed to notice his gaze. Turning around, she smiled at him with impossible gentleness.
Carrying a final plate of freshly fried chicken from the kitchen, she set it on the dining table and called to him with a lively, doting voice:
"Naruto! Why are you still sitting there? Go wash your hands! Dinner's ready!"
-------
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