Kakashi caught the flash of surprise across Meian's face and allowed himself a rare smile. "Don't look so shocked. With your aptitude, you deserve a Jōnin-level instructor."
He hadn't planned to make such a promise when he'd arrived.
Meian's expression softened into something almost cautious. "So I'm getting special treatment?"
Kakashi's low chuckle was genuine. "You could say that."
After an hour of conversation, Kakashi departed into the late evening. Meian retired without fanfare, his mind already turning to the day's lessons.
---
Outside Meian's residence, Might Guy stepped from the shadows near the street corner, arms crossed. His posture screamed confrontation.
"Kakashi. You've been keeping secrets lately," Guy said, his usual boisterousness tempered by something harder underneath. "I've challenged you to sparring matches dozens of times. You've turned me down every single time."
Kakashi approached with the unhurried gait of someone entirely at ease. "You've known me for years. Surely you understand what I do."
"Your taijutsu tracking remains abysmal, as always."
Guy didn't rise to the bait. Instead, his gaze intensified. "Is that child really worth consuming so much of your attention?"
A long breath escaped Kakashi. He leaned against the nearby wall, hands buried in his pockets. Above them, the moon hung pale and distant, casting faint shadows across the street. Pedestrians moved past, utterly blind to the weight of their conversation.
"He reminds me of myself," Kakashi said quietly. "But I have no desire to see another version of me walk these streets."
Guy's jaw tightened. He understood the weight of those words—understood what Kakashi meant without needing elaboration. Silence settled between them, heavy and knowing.
"After all these years, you still haven't released it," Guy said finally.
"That wasn't your burden to carry."
Kakashi shrugged, a faint smile touching the edge of his mask. "I recommended he learn taijutsu from you, actually. He refused."
Guy's eyes widened. He stared at Kakashi as if the man had spoken in a foreign language. "He turned me down? Turned down the chance to train in the glorious flames of youth?" His fists clenched. "What a tragedy!"
Given their history, Guy would have agreed to anything Kakashi asked without hesitation.
Kakashi's mouth twitched. "Count yourself fortunate. The alternative would be far worse."
He glanced at Guy's suddenly animated form. "I was hoping he'd gain some... social flexibility from you. Clearly, that was optimistic."
Kakashi wanted Meian to grow beyond the isolation that had defined his own youth—but not so far as to become this. Not to burn with the uncompromising intensity that drove Might Guy.
"I think he'll surpass me one day," Kakashi said, his gaze drifting to the full moon above. A faint smile played at his lips. "Perhaps he'll reach heights like the Fourth Hokage."
Guy's frown deepened. "You're being reckless with your expectations. How can a child possibly surpass you and match the Fourth Hokage? Is his talent truly that extraordinary?"
Kakashi kept his eyes on the sky. His voice remained calm, measured. "He will."
"Why?" Guy pressed.
"Intuition, perhaps," Kakashi replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Guy threw his hands up. "Intuition? There has to be something concrete. You don't invest this much effort without reason. What is it about him?"
Kakashi turned to watch the foot traffic moving past them. When he spoke again, his words came deliberately.
"He's six years old. I taught him three jutsu—two C-rank, one B-rank—and he executed them flawlessly after a single demonstration." He paused, letting that sink in. "But more than that, he has genuine hunger for knowledge. Most people fall asleep during my technical lectures."
Kakashi's gaze shifted pointedly toward Guy.
Guy's face flushed slightly. He'd asked Kakashi to teach him ninjutsu once, years ago. The experience had been... forgettable. He'd struggled to stay conscious through the theory alone.
"What Meian demonstrated was different," Kakashi continued, unmoved by Guy's embarrassment. "He listened with complete focus. He recorded everything, understood it thoroughly. That's the only reason he could perform the jutsu on first attempt. And when he cast them..." Kakashi paused. "They were noticeably more powerful than my own."
"He's a prodigy. That's the simplest explanation."
Guy's expression shifted—understanding finally crystallizing. "You never commit to someone without compelling reason. He must be exceptional." His eyes brightened with sudden fervor. "I want to meet him."
"Perhaps I should teach him taijutsu as well. Maybe he—"
Kakashi raised his hand, cutting him off with the efficiency of long practice. "Don't. He has zero interest in taijutsu. Beyond that, his hand-to-hand combat already exceeds his age group significantly. You know how consuming serious taijutsu training becomes."
"Some dedicate their entire lives to perfecting it."
Taijutsu demanded both natural gift and unwavering commitment—a marriage of talent and sacrifice that few could sustain.
Meian had refused the path, and Kakashi had no intention of pushing him toward it.
But Guy's eyes blazed with sudden intensity. "Wait. He's already surpassing his peers through self-training alone? Kakashi, it's a criminal waste for him to avoid taijutsu!" He stepped forward, fists clenching with purpose. "He clearly possesses natural talent in hand-to-hand combat. How can you be certain he wouldn't want to train with me? He hasn't witnessed my full strength yet! Once he does—"
"You're delusional," Kakashi interrupted flatly.
Guy's stance solidified, becoming something almost sacred in its determination. "Kakashi, I've made my decision. That boy will train taijutsu under me. You know the Eight Inner Gates needs an heir!"
Kakashi felt his patience beginning its descent toward the event horizon.
He had studied the Eight Inner Gates himself—understood their mechanics and destructive potential. But unlike Guy, he'd never made them his singular obsession. He understood the cost: if Meian learned that technique, other ninjutsu would wither from neglect.
"Absolutely not," Kakashi said, his tone brooking no argument. "His future doesn't lie in taijutsu, and he will never master the Eight Inner Gates. Stop considering it."
Guy didn't respond—couldn't respond. His excitement had reached a fever pitch where Kakashi's words simply couldn't penetrate.
Kakashi studied his oldest friend and felt something dangerously close to despair. "I regret telling you anything about him."
Guy grinned with unshakeable conviction. "I will absolutely convince him to train with me. In taijutsu, only you and the Hokage stand as my equals in all of Konoha!"
Technically true. Their levels were genuinely comparable, a fact forged through years of mutual development. When they were younger, Guy's hand-to-hand combat had lagged significantly behind Kakashi's overwhelming versatility. Kakashi had been gifted across every discipline—a prodigy who seemed to master anything he touched.
Perhaps that's why Guy had fixated on him as his eternal rival. It wasn't mere friendship binding them.
Kakashi was simply that talented.
---