With the great enemy finally driven back, Kakashi lay in the swaying carriage and couldn't help but feel a chill crawl up his spine when he thought about everything that had happened during this war.
He was genuinely afraid that Uchiha Shisui—that well-meaning, dangerously naive genius—might one day slip into his tent while he slept and rewrite his mind with Kotoamatsukami.
Any lingering fantasy that Shisui could ever truly understand him had died somewhere on the flooded battlefields of the Land of Frost.
Shisui himself stood motionless on the roadside grass, watching the retreating convoy until the dust settled. The war between Konoha and Kumogakure had swallowed more than half the country, turning vast stretches of it into a merciless inland sea.
Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin, had set a new and terrible precedent in shinobi warfare: he weaponized the land itself, breaking dams and redirecting rivers until the Fourth Raikage's army drowned in the deluge.
Kumogakure's losses were catastrophic.
And the price of that victory? Kakashi had personally led eight hundred Konoha shinobi in a suicidal charge straight into the heart of the Cloud's main encampment, pinning the entire enemy force in place long enough for Jiraiya to finish his preparations.
The moment the news broke, it spread through the Five Great Nations like wildfire.
People were stunned—horrified, even—at Jiraiya's ruthlessness.
Yet when they put themselves in his sandals, almost everyone quietly admitted they would have done the same. One flood to end a war that would otherwise have claimed tens of thousands more lives? Any commander would have given the order without hesitation.
What truly unsettled people was discovering that the same Jiraiya who used to grin his way across battlefields, flirting with women between jutsu had this kind of ice in his veins.
By the time Kakashi finally woke, a full day and night had passed.
Weeks of constant high-alert fighting had left his body and mind wound tighter than a kunai spring. The moment the tension snapped, he'd crashed hard.
He blinked groggily at the rocking ceiling above him, then at the cushioned bench beneath him.
…This definitely wasn't the folding cot he remembered collapsing onto.
A bright, familiar voice piped up from his left.
"We're already on the road back to Konoha! And don't worry—I carried you onto the carriage very, very carefully!"
Kakashi turned his head. Might Guy was crouched beside him, beaming like a proud puppy, one thumb thrust triumphantly skyward, teeth sparkling in the afternoon light.
The mental image of Guy bridal-carrying him across camp was going to haunt Kakashi for years.
"…Guy."
Kakashi's voice came out flat.
"You have no idea how much I didn't need to know that."
Guy's grin didn't falter in the slightest.
Kakashi rubbed his temple and changed the subject. "How far out are we?"
"We'll roll through the gates tomorrow afternoon if we keep this pace," Guy answered cheerfully.
Kakashi pushed himself upright and glanced out the small window. A long column of supply wagons and troop transports stretched down the road, moving at an almost leisurely speed—nothing like the frantic, dust-choking dash that had carried them to the front lines weeks earlier.
"And your injuries?" a new voice asked.
Kakashi's hand twitched toward a kunai before his brain caught up.
Uchiha Shisui dropped lightly from the carriage roof into the compartment, landing without a sound.
"I'm fine," Kakashi replied, forcing his posture to stay relaxed.
He hadn't even sensed Shisui up there. Was it because Guy's presence dulled his instincts, or because he was still half-dead from exhaustion?
Either way, it was a problem.
Shisui hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of his flak jacket. "Kakashi-senpai… there's something I'd like to talk about. Alone, if possible."
Guy immediately started to stand. "Oh—uh—sure, I'll just—"
"No need," Kakashi cut in, catching Guy's sleeve. "Guy isn't an outsider. Whatever you have to say, you can say it here."
He wasn't about to be alone in an enclosed space with Shisui. Not now. Maybe not ever again.
Shisui's shoulders fell slightly. He looked like someone trying to smile through a cracked mask.
"…All right." He took a slow breath. "After this war… Lord Hokage will probably place even more trust in you, won't he?"
Kakashi turned back to the window, watching trees slide past. "Who knows. If you keep pushing yourself, surpassing me will be child's play for you."
Shisui gave a small, brittle laugh. "Then… allow me to congratulate you in advance, senpai."
Kakashi inclined his head, the gesture polite and utterly empty. "Thank you."
Silence stretched between them, thick enough to choke on.
Eventually Shisui bowed, the motion stiff. "I won't disturb your rest any further. Please take care of yourself, senpai."
He vanished back through the roof as silently as he'd arrived.
Guy stared at the empty space for a second, then scratched his cheek. "Uh… did you two fight or something? Because that was painful to watch."
Kakashi exhaled through his nose. "It's complicated."
"Shisui's a good guy," Guy pressed, frowning. "Gentle, polite—always helps the genin with their taijutsu forms—"
"Just… keep your distance from him for now, Guy."
Guy's frown deepened. "But he's our comrade."
Kakashi closed his eye.
If he were anyone else—if he didn't carry the weight of what he knew about the future—he'd probably like Shisui too. The kid was earnest, talented, and tragically convinced that "understanding" could fix everything.
But Kakashi sat squarely in the Hokage's camp, and the Uchiha clan's path was barreling toward collision with that camp like a runaway train.
In the original timeline, someone had once proposed to Fugaku that he use a Sharingan genjutsu to seize control of the Nine-Tails, unleash it on the village leadership, then step in as the hero who saved Konoha—becoming Fourth Hokage in the chaos.
Fugaku hadn't immediately refused.
He'd actually tested the plan with his Mangekyō ability to glimpse possible futures.
In that future, the village and the Uchiha destroyed each other.
So Fugaku rejected it.
But in the future Kakashi had seen—his own future, the one he was now living—the clan went through with it anyway.
Pushed by pride, isolation, and decades of resentment, even an indecisive man like Fugaku would eventually be dragged into a coup.
Position dictated perspective.
And Kakashi's position—groomed by Jiraiya, marked as a future Hokage candidate—put him on the opposite side of that coup.
Unless something changed.
His thoughts drifted to another name.
Uchiha Itachi.
To the clan, Itachi would one day be the ultimate traitor—a filial son who slaughtered his own family.
To the Hokage and the village elders?
Itachi was the perfect blade: loyal, selfless, willing to stain his soul black for the "greater good."
And his talent was undeniable. Even at thirteen, the boy was terrifying.
Kakashi stared out at the passing forest, mask hiding the faint curve of his mouth.
If an opportunity presented itself in the coming months… maybe it wouldn't hurt to start building a bridge to Itachi.
Just in case the worst came to pass.
After all, a righteous cause could justify many things—even turning a clan's prodigy into a weapon pointed at his own kin.
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