Early morning sunlight filtered through the paper screen, casting golden lines across the futon.
Kakashi, who hadn't slept a wink all night, returned home at first light, changed into black clothes, and headed out again.
Today was the funeral of Hatake Sakumo.
As the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave, the Third Hokage glanced at Kakashi. The boy silently shook his head.
Understanding his meaning, Hiruzen raised his left hand. An ANBU beside him stepped forward, formed a series of hand signs, and pressed his palms into the earth.
"Earth Style: Burial!"
The ground on either side of the grave rose up and closed in, covering the coffin and forming a smooth, domed grave.
The Third Hokage turned and approached the stone memorial. He looked at the freshly engraved name: Hatake Sakumo, and began solemnly recounting the legendary ninja's life and achievements.
Behind him, mourners dressed in black stood silently, white flowers clutched in their hands.
Kakashi watched it all quietly, a strange mix of emotions welling up in his chest. The fusion of souls had brought with it fragments of the original Kakashi's feelings.
This was a man who once made even the Sannin hesitate. A hero who had fallen from grace, now reduced to a stone slab and a handful of memories.
And now, Kakashi had no family left.
When the Hokage finished his eulogy, he walked over and stood in front of him.
"Kakashi... Sakumo was a hero of the village. From now on, I will be your family. The people of Konoha are your family."
Kakashi didn't respond.
The Third gave a heavy sigh. "Take your time. The village is here for you."
The funeral dragged on until dusk.
By the time Kakashi returned to the Hatake estate—his estate now—the silence hit like a Genjutsu. The rooms felt colder, emptier. After a brief shower, he collapsed into bed and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Kakashi didn't know how long he'd been out when he finally woke up, but his body had stopped aching.
Getting up, he walked into his father's study. He made his way to the corner shelf, where an unassuming book titled "Geography of the Land of Fire" sat gathering dust.
He pulled on it.
With a low rumble, the bookshelf creaked open, revealing a hidden stone doorway.
Kakashi formed a seal and pressed his hand to a chakra-sensitive panel on the lock. With a soft click, the stone door opened, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Grabbing a flashlight from the desk, Kakashi headed down.
The chamber below was made of green hemp stone, about the same size as the room above. Scrolls were neatly lined along rows of shelves, organized by category.
Kakashi skipped past the family history and most of the ninjutsu. He went straight for the one that mattered now:
"Hatake-ryū Kenjutsu" — Hatake Sword Style.
This was the foundation of the Hatake clan. The reason White Fang had dominated battlefields. More than mere swordplay, this was sword-style as ninjutsu—chakra-enhanced kenjutsu that could turn a blade into a storm.
Its greatest strength was its adaptability. By infusing elemental chakra into the sword, it could manifest different effects based on the user's nature affinity:
Fire Blade: Creates explosive heatwaves with every slash.
Wind Blade: Razor-sharp strikes that slice through armor like paper.
Lightning Blade: Piercing power that could, at its peak, even crack through a fully armored Susanoo.
Of course, the scroll forgot to mention the "fine print": stupidly high chakra requirements, brutal physical demands, and an equally ridiculous death rate among users.
Hatake kenjutsu—easy to learn, absurdly hard to master. No refunds.
Kakashi sighed, rolling the scroll closed and pressing it against his chest.
If he died, the entire sword style might vanish with him. No pressure or anything.
He left the other scrolls alone. They were mostly ninjutsu—useless for now.
He had the system. As long as someone else performed a jutsu in front of him, he could copy it instantly. That was the cheat code.
What he really needed was a body tough enough to use those techniques.
After sealing the secret room behind him, Kakashi sped through the forest and arrived at his usual training ground—a secluded waterfall within the Konoha Forest.
He removed his sandals and stepped onto the water barefoot.
This wasn't a kiddie pool chakra control exercise.
Standing under a crashing waterfall took constant adjustment. The sheer pressure made even drawing your weapon feel like fighting a tailed beast.
But he had done this before. White Fang had dragged him out here once during a "bonding moment" (read: attempted drowning).
Kakashi closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, syncing with the rhythmic flow of chakra used in Hatake-ryū.
His hand moved to his sword.
Lift. Slash. Thrust. Cut. Parry. Hook. Press. Break. Draw. Counter. Block.
Simple movements. Easy enough to perform on dry land.
Now try them while getting repeatedly punched in the head by a small river.
He gritted his teeth and began his routine. A thousand repetitions per movement. No shortcuts.
When it was finally over, Kakashi stumbled out of the river, soaked, shaking, and ready to collapse.
Tempting as it was to nap right there, he knew better. Wet clothes and a cold night could kill just as fast as a kunai.
He forced himself to stagger back to the village.
One foot in front of the other. Like walking on clouds made of pain.
By the time he reached home, showered, and collapsed into bed, even his dreams were sore.
One Year Later
The same silver-haired boy now danced beneath the waterfall with his blade, moving like a breeze through leaves.
Then, stillness.
Left hand on the sheath, right hand on the hilt, breath held, chakra focused.
Everything slowed.
He could feel wind-nature chakra spiraling through his palm, trembling with tension.
Now.
"Hatake-ryū: Wind Blade – Crescent Slash!"
With a sharp cry, Kakashi drew and swung in one fluid motion.
A thin crescent of energy split the waterfall clean down the middle, shearing it like a ribbon.
"Hah…"
He exhaled, sheathing the sword in one smooth motion.
A year of relentless training had finally paid off. The chakra nature transformation of wind was starting to bear fruit.
He had taken his first real step into Hatake Swordsmanship's core.
"School starts tomorrow, huh..."
Kakashi muttered to himself, stretching slightly.
Unlike the original timeline, he hadn't fast-tracked his Genin graduation after Sakumo's death.
Those D-rank missions could wait. He needed time. Time to build his body, time to train.
And thanks to Shadow Clone jutsu, his double had been attending class in his place all year—nodding, writing notes, occasionally throwing shade at Obito and Guy.
Only Rin and Obito seemed suspicious. Guy? He bought every excuse Kakashi fed him with the enthusiasm of a man convinced of destiny.
Still, for the official opening ceremony tomorrow, he'd need to show up in person.
Wouldn't want to start the year with the Hokage accusing him of academic cloning.
That'd just be awkward.