I eventually woke up and realized it was almost midnight. My body still ached from the countless swings and repetitions of the breathing forms I practiced earlier, but my mind was more restless than my muscles.
"Wait… does this mean… Tengen exists in this world too?" I muttered under my breath, still trying to wrap my head around it. It made no sense. This was supposed to be the Naruto world, the shinobi world of chakra, jutsu, and clans… so why did the name Tengen pop up here? Was this some kind of fusion of worlds, or had I been reborn into a version of Naruto's world where the arts of the Demon Slayer existed side by side by shinobi traditions?
The thought alone made my head spin. If that was true… then maybe Breathing Styles weren't out of place after all.
I looked down at my reflection in the window's glass, faintly lit by the pale glow of the moon. My hair, white as snow, was unmistakable. A Hatake trait. That made me smile despite my confusion. The Hatake clan… white hair that stands out under any light. It's a double-edged sword, but one I'll gladly carry.
Just then, a voice broke me out of my thoughts.
"Oi, wake up. The patriarch has summoned you."
I turned to see a figure standing near the doorframe of my house. A clansman, his white hair tied back, his expression firm but respectful.
"The patriarch?" I asked, raising a brow. "At this hour?"
He nodded once. "Yes. The rest of the clansmen are already gathered. This isn't something that can wait until morning. He said it's urgent."
Urgent, in the middle of the night? That sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever this was, it wasn't ordinary.
I sighed and rose to my feet, brushing the dust and sweat off my clothes. "Alright, let's go."
The clansman gave a short nod, then turned and began walking. I followed close behind, my sandals making soft thuds against the wooden floors before stepping into the cool night air.
The Hatake compound was quiet, but I could feel a strange tension lingering in the silence. The moon hung high above, illuminating the path. Ahead, faint voices and the glow of lanterns signaled where the others had gathered.
As we approached, I couldn't shake the unease in my chest. A midnight meeting… the entire clan summoned… What could be so important?
By the way, what's your name?" I asked him.
"I'm Jeno Hatake," he replied. The way he said it made my blood boil—tskk, so irritating. It was as if he was flaunting his loyalty to the Patriarch. Loyal dogs like him… they always get in the way.
Still, I held back my urge. There were bigger things to focus on. The Hatake clan had fallen apart—other Jonins dead, only the Patriarch and I remained. But I wasn't about to waste my life serving under someone else's shadow. No, I would create something new.
Not a clan, but a family. The Hatake Family.
In my vision, every member would wield the Water Breathing style. I would train them personally, turning them into blades sharp enough to cut through the chaos of this world. Civilians too—I'd recruit them, forge them into loyal swords that belonged only to me and the Family.
And the best part? The breathing forms weren't just techniques anymore. Here in this Naruto world, they carried real, visible effects. Waves of water that surged with every slash, crashing torrents that my eyes could actually see. In Demon Slayer, the author said those visuals were only for demonstration… but here? Here they were real.
"Tch… how cool is that?!" I couldn't help but grin.
This world wasn't Demon Slayer. This was Naruto, where the lands weren't called Japan but bore their own shinobi nations.
Jeno eventually led me to the compound of the Hatake Patriarch. It was a structure that, at first glance, still carried the dignity befitting a clan head, even though the clan itself now stood on the very brink of extermination. Jeno walked ahead with quick steps, his loyalty clear, while I trailed behind, taking in the atmosphere with quiet calculation.
Inside the main hall, I saw them—what remained of the Hatake. Only nineteen clansmen in total, myself included. The sight was sobering. Their once-vibrant numbers had been reduced to so few, and worse still, most of them bore the marks of age. White hair dominated the assembly like snow in midwinter.
I carefully observed. Among the nineteen, only three were children—likely the last fragile threads of the Hatake's future. One of them, I mused, might very well become the ancestor of Hatake Kakashi. Among the rest, only four were women, their faces weary but resolute. The rest were men of varying ages, their eyes reflecting a mixture of stubborn pride and quiet despair.
At the center of it all stood the Patriarch. He was thirty years old this year, still young by shinobi standards. Tch. A bastard, really—hiding here in his territory while his clansmen had shed their blood for him. Now that his loyal dogs had been culled, the reality was plain. The Hatake were weakened, vulnerable, and ripe for a change in leadership. I couldn't help but think: Once the right moment comes, I'll take the reins myself.
The gathering fell silent when the Patriarch finally spoke. His tone was grave, his words heavy with significance.
"This meeting is important," he began. "The Senju and the Uchiha are extending an invitation to other clans. They wish to unite… to form something new. A Shinobi Village."
The moment those words reached my ears, my mind stirred. So, I'm here—the timeline where the villages are born.
The Patriarch went on, his voice carrying both weariness and determination. "The Hatake clan will join them as well. Our survival depends on it."
But his declaration unsettled me. Strange, I thought. If that's the case, then why do later generations speak of the Hatake's fall? My mind raced through possibilities. Perhaps something happened on the journey toward the Land of Fire. Maybe an ambush by rival clans during the chaos of the Warring States. That would explain why only a few survived to carry the name forward.
I clenched my fists, a bitter realization settling in. So this… this might be the very beginning of the Hatake clan's downfall.