After a brief summary of the past few days, Rin Nohara took her leave.
Hagoromo had reached a point of weary acceptance regarding his new title, "White Yaksha." It wasn't the worst thing he could be called; at least they hadn't dubbed him the "Fuzzy-Haired Masked Man" or something equally ridiculous.
What surprised him, however, was that Kakashi stayed behind after Rin left.
Hagoromo found this odd. He and Kakashi didn't exactly have a deep history. In fact, he could probably count the number of sentences they'd exchanged on both hands. Was Kakashi here to stand guard? That seemed unlikely.
"Um..."
Kakashi finally spoke, but he hesitated, looking almost... embarrassed? Bashful?
It was hard to tell with the mask, but the look in his eyes gave off that distinct impression. Wait, wait, wait, Hagoromo thought, his mind racing. Don't look at me like that. This story isn't heading toward some weird romance subplot, is it?
Fortunately, Hagoromo's overactive imagination was just that. Kakashi was here on professional business.
"Kamishiro..."
"Just call me Hagoromo," he interrupted, still not quite comfortable with formal honorifics like -kun or -san.
"...Hagoromo. There's a Jutsu I want to show you."
Without waiting for a response, Kakashi's hands began to blur. He wasn't looking for guidance; as a fellow shinobi, he simply felt an ethical obligation to show the original creator that he had—well—replicated the technique.
Ox — Rabbit — Monkey.
A sphere of crackling blue lightning erupted in Kakashi's palm.
Chidori (or Raikiri). It was supposed to be the Copy Ninja's only original technique, but in this timeline, while he could use it earlier than expected, his claim to the title of "Original Creator" had tragically vanished.
After the brief demonstration, Kakashi quickly dispersed the lightning. Playing with high-level Ninjutsu in a hospital tent was frowned upon, and the technique was far too chakra-intensive to maintain for show.
"I'm sorry... I found myself able to use your Jutsu without really trying. It was like the logic of the technique was already sitting in my head," Kakashi said, his voice tinged with the guilt of a thief. To a ninja, stealing a signature technique felt a lot like regular theft.
For Hagoromo, this was a non-issue. In fact, it was the best-case scenario. When he had used the technique in front of Kakashi, he had specifically intended to "return" the Jutsu to its rightful owner.
However, for the current Kakashi, the technique was still unrefined. Due to his body's lack of natural resistance to high-voltage chakra, he could only use it a limited number of times per day. It was a high-risk, high-reward move: lethal to the target, but dangerous for the user.
Hagoromo, thanks to his unique constitution, was immune to electrical feedback, allowing him to spam the move. Kakashi didn't have that luxury.
"Um... sorry..." Kakashi muttered again when Hagoromo didn't immediately respond. He assumed Hagoromo was angry about the unauthorized "copying."
"Oh? No, it's fine, Kakashi. Treat it as your own. You can use it, teach it to whoever you want—it doesn't matter to me," Hagoromo said quickly. As long as he could still use it himself, he didn't care who else had it in their arsenal. He certainly wasn't going to claim a patent. Even without his intervention, Kakashi would have invented it eventually.
"Huh?..." Now it was Kakashi's turn to be bewildered. He didn't understand. Shouldn't Hagoromo be furious? Shouldn't he be demanding an equivalent high-level Jutsu in exchange?
"Look, you said the logic was already in your head. Even if you'd never seen me do it, you would have developed it yourself soon enough. Don't worry about it."
Kakashi: "..."
Hagoromo went further, reassuring him repeatedly until a very confused Kakashi finally left the tent. The boy genius couldn't wrap his head around such selflessness. Hagoromo had even given him tips on the technique's weaknesses—specifically the lack of tunnel-vision protection during a linear strike.
Finally alone, Hagoromo felt restless after three days of bed rest. He grabbed an oversized white hospital gown hanging from the end of his bed, slipped on a pair of slippers, and wandered out into the camp.
The "hospital" was really just a collection of large tents. Outside, the midday sun was bright, and the camp was a hive of activity. Medical ninjas in white uniforms hurried back and forth.
The scars of the battle from three days ago were everywhere. The ground was gouged, tents were pitched at odd angles, and dark, dried blood stained the soil. At least the bodies had been cleared away, or he would have seen far worse.
He wandered aimlessly until he found himself in front of a familiar tent. It was the Command Tent—miraculously still standing despite being the most obvious target for a surprise attack.
Curiosity got the better of him. His sensory "radar" was currently switched off to save energy, so he didn't realize there was anyone inside. He pulled back the curtain, expecting an empty room.
He was wrong.
Tsunade was sitting there, her brow furrowed as she pored over a mountain of paperwork.
"Tsunade-sama?" Hagoromo said.
He was surprised. If Tsunade was here, why were there no guards outside?
"Hagoromo? You're awake. Have a seat. I'll be with you as soon as I finish this."
She glanced up briefly before burying her head back in her work. A hard-working Tsunade was a rare sight—a version of her that wouldn't resurface for many years, even after she became Hokage.