The next day, on the academy podium, the Third Hokage—Sarutobi Hiruzen—was delivering another one of his famous heartfelt speeches.
"Where the leaves dance, the fire will burn. The flames will continue to illuminate the village and allow new leaves to sprout…"
Konoha Limited Super S-Rank Genjutsu: Will of Fire — activated.
Kakashi yawned. Loudly.
The students around him, practically vibrating with patriotic fervor, clearly didn't share his enthusiasm. Must be nice to still have that kind of emotional bandwidth.
He didn't doubt the sincerity of the Third Hokage. In the original story, the old man went out swinging, fully committed to the ideals he preached. But Kakashi—who had nine years of modern education and a fully upgraded BS detector—couldn't help but view things through a… slightly more cynical lens.
Yes, the Will of Fire is a noble philosophy—protecting comrades, sacrificing for the village, warm fuzzy feelings, etcetera.
But let's not forget: Ninjas are still glorified mercenaries in themed pajamas.
Their job description includes assassination, sabotage, espionage, and the occasional babysitting mission that goes wildly off the rails. Whether the target is innocent or guilty often depends less on morality and more on which client has deeper pockets.
And under Hiruzen's leadership, the village had no problem sending literal children to war. Great PR, questionable ethics.
The dream of becoming Hokage? Zero appeal. He had taxes in his past life and emotional trauma in this one—no need to add paperwork and assassination attempts to the list.
"Kakashi, what are you thinking about?" Rin leaned in, whispering beside him.
Her soft breath tickled his ear, making it warm. Great. Now his face was blushing and itchy. Fantastic.
"Oh, I was just wondering why that Obito guy isn't here yet," Kakashi replied, casually glancing around.
During the past year, he had basically lived like a highly efficient ghost. Training alone, eating alone, shopping alone. The only people who occasionally interrupted his one-man apocalypse were Rin, Obito, and Gai—with varying degrees of helpfulness and chaos.
Speaking of chaos...
Gai once barged in while Kakashi was mid-wardrobe change, stared in wide-eyed horror, and left in complete silence. He hadn't issued a single "youthful challenge" since. Small blessings.
"Yeah… Obito's late again. Today of all days too," Rin muttered, frowning.
"Maybe he's helping an old lady cross the street again," Kakashi offered with mock-seriousness. "Or rescuing a cat stuck in a tree while explaining his tragic backstory."
"Still," she said, glancing around. "He's going to miss the whole opening ceremony."
"Tragic," Kakashi deadpanned. "He'll never recover from missing a lecture on shinobi ethics and communal tree-planting."
As the Hokage wrapped up his rousing finale, the students began dispersing under the guidance of the teachers, buzzing with excitement over their freshly implanted Will of Fire.
Suddenly—
"Oh no, oh no, oh no! This is the one day I absolutely can't be late!"
A whirlwind of goggles, sweat, and panic sprinted toward them from the front gates.
Uchiha Obito skidded to a halt, dramatically deflating when he saw the ceremony already ending. Classic Obito: always arriving just in time to miss the important part.
Kakashi strolled past him, paused, then turned with exaggerated solemnity. "You're late to the opening ceremony. Might as well give up on being a ninja now. Dream's over, kid."
He even threw in a theatrical shrug.
"Tch!" Obito scowled, his goggled eyes narrowing behind the lenses.
"It's fine," Rin said, handing him a folder with a smile so radiant it probably had its own chakra nature. "I got the orientation packet for you."
"M-mine?" Obito stammered, pointing at himself like someone who'd just been handed a free lottery ticket.
"Yes. As long as you write a short reflection on the Will of Fire, you won't fall behind. Just like last year."
"Rin, you're the best!" Obito clutched the folder like it contained secret Uchiha techniques and lifetime ramen coupons.
Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Keep babying him like this and he'll still be late to his own funeral."
"You want to fight, you mop-haired jerk?!"
"Huh?"
"You heard me!"
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did!"
"Wrong again."
"Ugh! Idiot Kakashi!"
Rin just giggled quietly beside them as the two boys bickered like grumpy cats in flak jackets.
Eventually, they reached the school intersection, and Kakashi broke off to head home.
"Seriously, what am I doing arguing with a ten-year-old?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.
The headache was only partly from Obito. Some of it, he suspected, was leftover psychic static from the soul fusion. Side effects: sarcasm, chronic inner monologues, moderate ninja-induced fatigue.
He kept walking, only to pause in front of a warmly lit storefront.
"Ichiraku Ramen."
The sign glowed like a beacon. A salty, savory beacon of hope.
As he stepped inside, a friendly voice greeted him before he even reached the counter.
"Evening, Kakashi! The usual?"
"Evening, Teuchi-san. One large miso ramen. Extra chashu and egg. Thanks."
"Coming right up!" the chef called out cheerfully.
"Kakashi!" a small voice chirped.
He looked down to see a young girl peeking from behind the counter. Big brown eyes blinked up at him excitedly.
"Oh, hey, Ayame."
He patted her head lightly, earning a wide smile. She was always happy to see him—possibly because he once let her see his face, or maybe because he didn't treat her like a kid.
That, or she was just an innocent soul who hadn't yet figured out how sarcasm worked.
Within minutes, a steaming bowl of perfection arrived.
Kakashi clapped his hands together.
"Itadakimasu."
The ramen was a symphony in a bowl. Tender pork, umami-rich miso, chewy handmade noodles. Teuchi wasn't just a ramen cook—he was a food genjutsu specialist.
No wonder Naruto practically worshipped the guy.
Five minutes later, the bowl was empty. Stomach full, soul slightly less jaded, Kakashi paid his bill and walked out into the evening air.
Then he stopped.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted three familiar silhouettes sitting at an open-air izakaya across the street.
One of them had long, pale blonde hair. Her face was fair and striking, her figure... well, even gravity was struggling to keep up.
Yup. No doubt about it.
Senju Tsunade. Granddaughter of the First Hokage, legendary medical kunoichi, degenerate gambler, busty battle medic—take your pick.
Beside her sat the other two-thirds of the Sannin:
Jiraiya, the human embodiment of "I swear it's for research," andOrochimaru, whose aesthetic screamed "This wine pairs nicely with forbidden jutsu."
Kakashi blinked. That... wasn't right.
At this point in the timeline, Tsunade should've already left the village, emotionally wrecked after Dan and Nawaki's deaths.
Then again, Naruto canon wasn't exactly a paragon of chronological consistency. And with him as an added variable in the mix, all bets were off.
He turned to walk away.
Paused.
Then turned back.
A bold, ridiculous idea slithered into his mind—and refused to leave.
Kakashi exhaled slowly, stepped forward, and walked toward the Sannin's table.
After all, what's the worst that could happen?
Besides crippling injuries, psychological trauma, and maybe getting roped into one of Orochimaru's "internships."