Late night.
The Hokage Tower.
The helmet-loving veteran chain smoker finally wrapped up his work for the day.
Stretching lazily, he noticed a tuft of white hair by the window.
"Welcome back, Kakashi," the fatigue in his eyes eased slightly as he spoke. "Did you… see that child?"
With Kakashi's return, Konoha's strength had quietly increased again.
At the very least, the pressure on him felt lighter.
"…Mm."
Kakashi waved a hand, not mentioning Naruto at all. Instead, he brought up someone else.
"Does the Third know about the head of the Uchiha clan's… other kid?"
"Oh?" The Third Hokage tapped his pipe thoughtfully. "You mean Itachi? A very intelligent child. His understanding of the Will of Fire surpasses almost everyone in the village."
Praise surfaced rarely in his eyes—but when it came to Itachi, it was genuine.
Even as an Uchiha, he lacked that typical fanaticism and stubborn extremity.
Instead, he was calm, wise, and steady.
Kakashi shook his head. "Not Itachi."
"…Then Sasuke?" The Third pondered. "Still young, but his talent seems decent."
"It's Kai."
"Kai?" The Third paused. "That name sounds… familiar."
His mind turned, trying to form a clear image—yet it slipped away every time.
Like an old scrap pushed into a corner and forgotten, suddenly retrieved but impossible to remember.
After several attempts, a scene from four years ago finally surfaced.
Subconsciously, he asked, "That boy… is there a problem?"
"No," Kakashi replied after a brief hesitation. "He's just… very talkative."
He pulled out a notebook.
It was filled with dense notes—almost all of them things Kai had said.
But the very first page had been torn out.
That missing page recorded the connection between Kai and Naruto.
Kakashi had originally planned to present it to the Third.
But Kai's repeated mentions of the Fourth Hokage and his wife kept triggering memories—
Minato-sensei's guidance, Kushina-sama's warmth.
Maybe… it's not a bad thing for Naruto to have an older brother figure around.
With that thought, Kakashi chose to conceal the relationship.
He offered only a few vague remarks before taking his leave.
Behind him, the Third stared at the torn edge of the notebook.
That four-years-ago child resurfaced in his mind once more.
…
Rustle.
Morning mist still clung to the air when faint scraping sounds came from the Uchiha compound wall.
Like a puppy digging at bricks.
In reality, it was Sasuke, tiptoeing as he spread out a stolen blanket.
"Can sunbathing really make you stronger…?"
"It should… that guy said sunlight is a natural energy. When it combines with the human body, it produces chakra…"
Muttering to himself, he cast a cautious glance toward the house.
Seeing no one come out, he finally sprawled out like Kai always did.
To make it more authentic, he even stuck a foxtail grass between his lips, humming in a lazy, crooked tone.
Creak.
The wooden door opened.
Fugaku, up early, lifted his head—and saw his second son sitting there, apparently watching something.
He frowned slightly. "Kai, what are you doing here?"
"Oh. Watching a puppy dig at the wall."
"…A puppy digging?" Fugaku froze, suddenly tense. "Which wall?!"
"Sasuke said it's the third one on the left of the main door. The one with the cherry tree."
Thump.
Thump thump.
"My… secret stash…" Fugaku's face went pale.
For years, the amount of hidden money in the house never quite matched.
So he'd moved it outside—buried under the compound wall.
And now—
"Damn it! That brat Sasuke is asking for it!"
Snorting angrily, Fugaku stomped off in his wooden sandals.
Moments later, Sasuke's miserable screams echoed over the wall.
Heart-rending. Truly tragic.
Right beneath that wall lay a father's painstakingly hidden savings.
At the same time, the door slid open again.
Listening to the screams, Itachi sighed.
"Kai… did you take Father's money again? What was it for this time?"
In the household—aside from Fugaku—everyone knew Kai was the culprit.
Almost every time.
Sometimes it was food.
Dango. Itachi had eaten some himself.
Other times, it was money spent just to get people to chat with him.
The reasons varied wildly.
So this time?
Itachi sat beside him, curiosity in his eyes.
"Oh, nothing much. Bought some fruit and milk. Gave it to war orphans."
"…War orphans?" Itachi's gaze softened. "Kai… you've grown up."
He reached out instinctively to pinch his brother's cheek—
—and grabbed nothing.
Kai sidestepped neatly, grinning. "Itachi—today—"
Almost reflexively, Itachi cut in.
"Don't worry. I'll protect you and Sasuke."
"I'll stand from the village's perspective and do my best to stop this conflict."
"And if anyone tries to take Shisui's eyes—I'll kill them."
Halfway through, he paused, then frowned.
"But… why would anyone want Shisui's eyes?"
He truly didn't understand.
Shisui was a hero—already famous on the battlefield.
Why would anyone covet a hero's Sharingan?
Unless…
"…His Mangekyō?"
Tap.
At that moment, Shisui suddenly flipped in from the neighboring courtyard.
Dew clung to his hair, dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night.
"Itachi! Kai! You're both here—great timing! I've got good news!"
His voice wasn't loud, but his grin stretched ear to ear.
Kai's hand, propping up his cheek, froze.
In Shisui's excited pupils, he saw it—
An image of a one-eyed old bastard grinning in the shadows.
"I've named it Kotoamatsukami!" Shisui declared happily.
"This dōjutsu can alter someone's will without them even noticing! The only downside is the long recovery time!"
"This morning, I spent an hour discussing it in the Hokage's office. Elder Danzō even praised me—said I'm the hope of the Uchiha!"
Hands on his hips, Shisui looked ready to laugh toward the heavens.
He was stopped—cold.
"How many people did you tell?" Itachi asked quietly.
He finally understood why Shisui's eyes would be taken.
Explaining a dōjutsu in such detail—it was practically a user manual!
If they didn't gouge out your eyes, whose would they take?!
"…Not that many?" Shisui scratched his head, counting on his fingers.
"Just the Third Hokage, the advisors, Elder Danzō, the ANBU advisory division, and Root's sealing unit…"
This…
This this this…
In the end, Kai looked at the copy failed notification before him, patted the sunny, confident young man on the shoulder—
—and walked away, shaking his head.
Someone asked: where's the overconfidence?
Simple.
He trusted every man he met.
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