Uchiha Kai helped Kakashi make his way toward the Konoha Orphanage.
The orphanage, once run by Nonō Yakushi, lay on the outskirts of the Hidden Leaf Village—a quiet and secluded area surrounded by thickets of trees and moss-covered stone walls. Though it was rebuilt after the war, it still retained an air of abandonment, perhaps symbolic of the forgotten children it once housed.
During the Third Great Ninja War, many orphans came from across the nations—some from Konoha, others with more uncertain origins. Rumors of enemy infiltration had prompted the village leadership to place the orphanage in a remote zone, just outside the central residential districts. That also meant it fell under the regular patrol jurisdiction of the Konoha Military Police Force.
Although Kai had never been to this area himself, his surveillance of Uchiha Yuu's patrols and logs made the terrain familiar. He had once considered it an ideal place for an ambush: dense, quiet, isolated—perfect for a confrontation or a critical conversation.
He just didn't expect to use it this way.
As they neared the worn iron gates, Uchiha Kai came to a stop.
Without warning, his chakra surged.
In one fluid motion, Kai drew his chakra-infused blade—its edge glowing faint blue—and the tomoe of his Sharingan spun in his scarlet eyes. His movements were sharp, precise, devastating. Most shinobi would never react in time.
But Hatake Kakashi wasn't most shinobi.
Even off-duty, Kakashi's instincts were honed to a razor's edge—perhaps a side effect of years in the ANBU, where danger could strike at rest. Almost reflexively, Kakashi shifted, avoiding the blade as it whistled past. His hand reached for his forehead protector, lifting it to reveal the Sharingan gifted to him by Obito.
Kai's blade halted mid-swing. He didn't press the attack immediately.
"You're slower than usual," Kai said flatly.
Kakashi, panting lightly, pulled a kunai to defend himself, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What the hell was that for?"
Kai didn't answer. Instead, he kicked Kakashi back with a calculated blow—not lethal, but enough to rattle him.
"You didn't even bring your blade," Kai said coldly, watching Kakashi scramble to his feet. "If you face someone like me unarmed, you won't make it back from your next mission. Or anywhere, really."
His Sharingan flared.
Kakashi felt a tremor in his mind. A flicker of genjutsu? Illusion or reality, it hit fast.
His vision blurred.
By the time he shook free, Kai's sword was already inches from his throat. Lightning flickered along its edge.
Chidori Current?
Kakashi's limbs felt heavy. A tingling numbness spread from his neck down. He felt the touch of lightning and the weight of fatigue—and something else.
Peace?
Then came the darkness.
"Kakashi? Kakashi?"**
A voice stirred him awake. Gentle but urgent.
He groaned, reaching to his aching head. Slowly, painfully, memories returned—Kai's sword, the weight of defeat, the overwhelming sensation that maybe he wanted to lose.
He muttered, dazed: "Looks like I died... Not a bad end, if it's by the sword I gave him."
There was no bitterness in his voice. In fact, Kakashi sounded... relieved.
He understood Kai. He wasn't angry.
Kai, perhaps more than anyone else, knew how to force someone to confront themselves. Even if it meant nearly killing them.
Suddenly, he heard familiar footsteps.
He looked up.
Obito... Rin...
They were running toward him, smiling.
He stood to greet them—but something was off.
They didn't see him.
Instead, they ran past him. Toward another figure.
Kakashi turned.
Standing a few feet away was a younger version of himself—confident, upright, brimming with energy. Next to him was Namikaze Minato, who gave no glance Kakashi's way. His blue eyes, usually filled with warmth, held only the quiet sting of disappointment.
The younger Kakashi turned to him.
"So you noticed," the doppelgänger said. His tone was dry. "You're pathetic."
Kakashi winced.
"You're nothing but a ghost now. Living in the past, afraid of the future. You wear that ANBU mask even in your sleep—who are you hiding from? Yourself?"
Kakashi didn't answer.
"Are you still the Kakashi Hatake that Obito believed in?" his younger self snapped. "Or the one Rin said she trusted? Because I wouldn't follow you."
The real Kakashi remained silent, staring at his own reflection in a pool nearby.
The man in the water was grim, lifeless. The Sharingan in his eye made him look more like a specter than a hero.
"I'm not him anymore," Kakashi whispered.
He felt a sudden blow—a punch that knocked him flat.
"You're right," the younger Kakashi spat. "You're not."
Kakashi groaned, rubbing his jaw. The pain was real.
For the first time in years, something felt real.
Then, a soft voice interrupted the moment.
"Kakashi?"
He turned.
Rin stood before him—gentle, beautiful, and very much like he remembered. Her eyes shimmered with concern.
"Kakashi, you're struggling. But I know you. You'll find your way."
Behind her, Obito folded his arms, scoffing.
"You're lucky you're my friend," he said. "I gave you that eye so you'd protect what I couldn't. Not so you could wallow in guilt forever."
Kakashi's breath caught in his throat.
"I'm sorry..." he said, the weight of years breaking free. "I'm so sorry…"
Then, a warm hand touched his shoulder.
It was Minato.
"The mark of a true shinobi isn't power," Minato said softly. "It's how much pain you can bear—and still keep moving. You don't carry their deaths, Kakashi. You carry their will."
"You're not alone," he added. "Kai, Gai, Kurenai… we're all still here."
Kakashi blinked.
The illusion—if it was one—faded.
He sat beneath a tree near the orphanage, Kai leaning casually nearby with arms crossed.
No blade. No blood. Just silence.
"You passed," Kai said quietly.
Kakashi breathed deeply, as if coming back to life.
"...Thanks."
Kai shrugged. "Didn't do it for you. Did it for the kids who still believe in you."
The wind rustled the trees.
And for the first time in a long time, Kakashi felt... awake.