Chapter 3:
The Hokage Tower smelled like old paper, smoke, and regret.
Kakashi stood in the center of the office, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that made the room's occupants uneasy. Three ANBU lined the wall. Two elders sat to the side, faces carved from disapproval and habit.
And behind the desk—
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
He looked older than Kakashi remembered.
Not just aged—worn down. The pipe in his hand trembled slightly as he exhaled a thin line of smoke that failed to hide the redness around his eyes.
"Kakashi," Hiruzen said at last. "I'm glad you survived."
So that was how this meeting would begin.
"I was trained well," Kakashi replied evenly.
Hiruzen's gaze lingered on him, sharp despite the grief. "You were reported moving through restricted sectors without clearance."
The elders stiffened.
Danzo stood near the window, cane resting against his leg, visible eye half-lidded in false indifference.
"I followed a chakra anomaly," Kakashi said. "Standard procedure."
Danzo's eye opened fully.
"A civilian chakra anomaly," Danzo corrected mildly. "One that required no jōnin intervention."
Kakashi turned his head slightly.
"Incorrect."
The room chilled.
"The anomaly contained the Kyūbi," Kakashi continued. "Left unattended. Poorly guarded. Surrounded by emotional instability."
Hiruzen's pipe stopped.
"…You found the child," he said quietly.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
One of the elders cleared his throat. "That child is a danger. Proximity should be limited until proper containment measures are—"
"—already failing," Kakashi cut in.
Every eye snapped to him.
Hiruzen did not rebuke him.
Kakashi lifted his gaze, storm chakra coiled tight and disciplined—not flaring, not threatening, but present enough that everyone in the room felt it.
"You sealed a natural disaster into a newborn," he said. "Then isolated him. That isn't containment. That's negligence."
Danzo's fingers tightened on his cane.
"You presume much for a boy," he said coldly.
Kakashi looked at him fully now.
"I buried my sensei yesterday," he replied. "Forgive me if I'm impatient with bad decisions."
The words hit harder than any jutsu.
Hiruzen closed his eyes.
"…Minato entrusted me with this village," he said softly. "And with his son."
Kakashi blinked once.
The elders froze.
Danzo turned slowly.
"So," Danzo said, voice thin with interest, "you know."
"I can count," Kakashi replied. "And I can read seals."
A pause.
Then Danzo smiled.
"Then perhaps," he said, "you understand why the child must be controlled. Raised as a weapon. ROOT can ensure—"
"No."
The single word cut like a blade.
Kakashi stepped forward.
"You will not touch him."
The ANBU shifted, uncertain.
Danzo's killing intent flared—sharp, surgical.
And died.
Because the air rotated.
Invisible pressure pressed down on the room, not violent, not lethal—but undeniable. Papers rustled. The smoke from Hiruzen's pipe twisted into a slow spiral.
A storm—contained.
Hiruzen opened his eyes, sharp now.
"Danzo," he said quietly. "Stand down."
Danzo's smile vanished.
"This boy is unstable," Danzo snapped. "He carries a power he does not understand."
Hiruzen rose from his chair.
"So do we all."
Silence.
At last, Danzo turned away, cane tapping sharply against the floor as he left the room.
The elders followed, muttering.
Only Kakashi and Hiruzen remained.
The pressure lifted.
Hiruzen sank back into his chair, suddenly very tired.
"…You've changed," he said.
Kakashi lowered his gaze. "So has the world."
Hiruzen studied him for a long moment.
"Will you watch over the child?" he asked.
Kakashi nodded once. "From the shadows."
"And if Danzo moves?"
The corner of Kakashi's eye curved faintly.
"Then the storm moves too."
Hiruzen exhaled, long and heavy.
"For now," he said, "you will remain officially unaffiliated. No ANBU. No ROOT."
Kakashi understood immediately.
Freedom.
He turned to leave.
At the door, Hiruzen spoke again.
"Kakashi… Minato would have been proud."
Kakashi paused—but didn't turn around.
The wind outside the tower shifted, carrying with it grief, resolve, and the distant sound of a child breathing peacefully in his sleep.
The village had lost a Hokage.
But it had gained something else.
A guardian.