The blade-light that had once struck fear into countless people appeared again, as two arcs of sword-light.
There was no doubt, it was the same blade.
And that was Kakashi's weakness.
The same sword technique, when used by different people, would carry different styles.
The blade-light woven by Kakashi was derived from Sakumo Hatake's technique. Against enemies, it was naturally peerless, but against Sakumo himself, it was like comparing an adult to a child.
An imitation might match the quality of the original, but it could never surpass it.
One ahead, one behind, an unbridgeable gap.
"Don't you understand yet?"
Sakumo's short blade pressed Kakashi back again and again. As long as he found the slightest opening, one strike would be enough to end Kakashi's life.
Though Kakashi was at a complete disadvantage, he managed to seal every crack in his defense in time, preventing the collapse of his wall.
As long as he guarded each fracture, the balance could be maintained.
If he failed, the wall would shatter, and with it, his life.
"The sword is dead, but the man is alive."
That steady voice was drowned beneath the ringing of blades.
Kakashi gave no reply. He no longer had the luxury of words; even his eyes were gradually failing to follow his father's sword. He could feel himself stepping closer and closer toward death.
How could he find even a single thread of victory amidst this overwhelming tide of defeat?
Why were his hidden strikes always one step slower than his father's?
Why did every cunning angle, no matter how carefully chosen, get parried so effortlessly?
Even when he deliberately altered the trajectory of the same technique, why did it always return to the same path?
Clang, clang, clang...
White light collided, repelled, and merged.
Each clash of their short blades produced a burst of sparks.
Every strike released an invisible slash of killing intent, only to cancel each other out, yet that very danger was what made the exchanges so perilous.
Kakashi felt as though a great mountain pressed down on him. His breathing grew heavy, and no matter how hard he fought, he could not find a chance to breathe.
"How do I break through this barrier?"
In the tangle of steel, Kakashi's gaze sharpened. Should he abandon his clan's sword style against his father? Doing so might only lead to an even swifter defeat.
He had focused his spirit to the utmost, striking with maximum speed and strength, yet still he could not overcome Sakumo's sword.
Were it not for his battlefield-honed instinct for danger, he would already have lost miserably.
As time dragged on, his disadvantage grew more obvious. Within a single minute, the next strike could pierce his heart.
The pressure mounted, the sword-light drawing closer and closer to his forehead. Kakashi felt the breath of death itself.
Vaguely, he realized, so long as he stubbornly used the Hatake style as he thought he had mastered it, he would never find a path forward. Only by changing something could he grasp a glimmer of hope.
But how should he change?
Clang!
His solid defense suddenly collapsed.
Sakumo's blade cut through his guard and stabbed in diagonally.
Kakashi's face darkened; he hurriedly raised his sword to block.
A tearing sound, blood sprayed.
A deep wound opened across Kakashi's chest. He frowned, retreated a step, and managed to rebuild his defense, buying a single breath of respite.
"…"
Sakumo said nothing. Yet as his blade cut into his son's body, a ripple spread through the heart that had always remained perfectly still in battle.
He had always believed emotions had no place in combat, but now, they stirred. And still, they did not slow his strikes, for he was an Edo Tensei body, his hands would faithfully deliver the most merciless attacks whether he wished it or not.
"The only one who can surpass me in swordsmanship… is you, Kakashi. Not even Ye Zi could reach that level." Sakumo suddenly spoke.
Indeed, even Ye Zi, who had pushed the basics of swordsmanship to their extreme, could not defeat Sakumo. Sakumo's sword was not only fast and fierce, but also steady. He fused two completely different extremes into one.
For killing, it was lethally sharp. For defending, impenetrable.
Ye Zi's sword embodied the pinnacle of speed and ferocity. Sakumo's blade reached that same peak, but added steadiness. Thus, when Ye Zi fought him, he could clash for hundreds of rounds without falling behind.
But Sakumo's hidden steadiness always let him endure, while Ye Zi's unchanging speed would inevitably falter.
Without Sasori's support, Ye Zi would ultimately have lost. That was an undeniable fact.
Yet times had changed. Sakumo did not know Ye Zi had grown stronger.
If they fought again now, Sakumo would surely fall within three hundred exchanges.
Hearing his father's words, Kakashi clenched his teeth. He remembered his own vow... to surpass Ye Zi.
But now, before him stood an immovable mountain. To reach his goal, he had to climb past it.
"My own path…"
White light filled Kakashi's eyes—wind, and thunder.
What he truly excelled at was lightning.
In truth, within the Hatake style of blending wind and thunder, the wind was only a garnish for him.
If lightning was stronger, why restrain it? Why keep it equal to wind?
Once a breakthrough appears, countless thoughts branch forth like threads, until at last the right one emerges.
Kakashi's eyes brightened. He had mastered both the nature and form transformations of lightning. But in his pursuit of perfect wind-thunder fusion, he had always held lightning back, forcing it to remain balanced with wind.
But if that balance could not surpass his father, why keep it?
Only by clashing against a wall of the same style could he realize his chosen path was wrong.
"Here it is…"
Beneath his mask, Kakashi's lips curved faintly. Sakumo could not see the smile, but he sensed the change at once.
"Your aura has shifted, it more sharper, more piercing... So, you've found it," Sakumo thought, relief in his heart. His sword, however, did not falter.
His ferocity and steadiness, like wind and lightning fused, were the culmination of his skill.
But fusion did not require a perfect one-to-one ratio. Every master of the Hatake style carried their own proportion. Each had to find the balance that suited them best.
He did not know if Kakashi had truly found it, but since change had begun, the outcome would surely be different.
From a one-sided defeat to the possibility of victory, the difference could be decided in a single breath.
The wind in Kakashi's blade weakened, or rather, the lightning grew stronger.
This shift made his strikes just a little faster, though his invisible slashes lost some force.
Crackle, crackle, crackle...
As they exchanged blows, the merging of invisible slashes carved more and more shallow wounds across Kakashi's body. But his expression never wavered.
At this rate, within a minute, he would be covered in hundreds of cuts. Perhaps he would die. But now, he had seen a way forward.
Amidst the clash of blades, Sakumo saw his son's expression, and his eyes grew warm.
"The only one who can surpass me… is you, Kakashi."
He thought this quietly, as though already seeing the end.
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