"So that's how it is… Orochimaru escaped again?"
Inside the Hokage Office, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, whispered solemnly as he listened to Kakashi and Jiraiya's report. His brows furrowed, and a complex expression crossed his weathered face—part relief, part regret. Though Orochimaru's crimes were undeniable, the pain of watching his once-promising student fall further into darkness still cut deeply.
"I understand. You're all dismissed. Jiraiya, stay behind."
The members of the Anbu—silent as ever—vanished into the shadows at Hiruzen's words, leaving only the old master and his once-boisterous pupil.
"What's the matter, old man?" Jiraiya asked with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
Hiruzen studied Jiraiya closely. He had expected him to be more broken, more affected by what had just transpired. After all, Jiraiya had stormed out of the village upon hearing of Orochimaru's betrayal—like a hurricane of sorrow and fury.
"You seem unaffected… You've already come to terms with Orochimaru's defection?" Hiruzen asked, genuinely curious.
Jiraiya's smile faltered, replaced by a somber calm. "He's made his choice, and there's no changing that now. All I can do is accept it and move on. There's no point in clinging to the past."
Though his tone was casual, the Third Hokage could sense the underlying ache. It wasn't so easy for Jiraiya—he just knew how to carry his grief in silence.
"Well… since you've come to terms with it… what do you plan to do now? Continue traveling the world?"
Jiraiya chuckled. "Naturally! I've still got plenty of research to do, after all."
"Research, huh?" Hiruzen smirked knowingly, puffing his pipe. "Still chasing after 'materials' for your books, are you?"
"Guilty as charged," Jiraiya said, laughing louder.
"You could stay," Hiruzen said suddenly, voice quieter but laced with hope. "Konoha is vulnerable right now. We need strong shinobi like you here."
The Third Hokage's tone grew heavier. His three students—Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru—had all gone their separate ways. Tsunade, broken by the loss of Nawaki and Dan, suffered from hemophobia and wandered endlessly. Orochimaru, once his brightest, had turned to twisted experiments and now deserted the village. That left only Jiraiya—loyal, yet always reluctant to be tied down.
"I'm sorry, old man… but you know I'm not made for staying in one place," Jiraiya replied softly, his usual humor gone.
Hiruzen sighed. He had expected this answer, yet disappointment still settled heavily in his chest.
"I suppose I'll just have to keep carrying this village on these old bones," he muttered, feeling the weight of time more than ever.
Jiraiya smiled sympathetically. "You've still got Shinnosuke and Asuma. They'll grow into fine shinobi."
(Since the manga never confirms Konohamaru's father's name, we'll use the widely accepted name: Sarutobi Shinnosuke.)
"Shinnosuke shows promise," Hiruzen admitted. "But Asuma… that boy's a headache."
"He's just in his rebellious phase." Jiraiya chuckled. "It's natural."
Hiruzen shook his head but smiled faintly. "You always did enjoy teasing me."
Suddenly, Jiraiya's expression turned serious. "But there's someone else too—Kakashi. That kid's grown. I was honestly surprised by how much."
"Kakashi…" Hiruzen said as he inhaled deeply from his pipe. "He's changed a lot since Minato passed. He was hollow for a long time."
"He's starting to move on. He's not consumed by guilt anymore. His heart is still burdened, but he's facing forward now. You should nurture him, old man. He could become a new pillar for Konoha."
The Third Hokage's eyes narrowed in thought. "You're right… The incident with Sakumo…"
"Forget it, old man," Jiraiya interrupted, his voice resolute. "Sakumo made his choice. He believed in the village, even when the village didn't believe in him. Don't let Konoha fail his son the way it failed him."
A long silence fell.
Finally, Hiruzen nodded. "I understand. Kakashi will be treated as he deserves. I owe that to both father and son."
"I'm counting on you," Jiraiya said as he turned toward the door. "Until Kakashi's strong enough, the village still needs you. But when that time comes… he'll be the one to inherit Konoha's will."
Hiruzen's lips curled into a quiet smile. "Hehe… Don't stay away too long."
"I won't. If something comes up, you know how to find me."
They shared a rare moment of mutual understanding—teacher and student, both weary but still holding on.
—
At Kakashi's home, the sky outside had long gone dark. Inside, Kakashi sat hunched over on his bed, face drenched in sweat. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and his entire body trembled.
His eyes were shut tight, but his expression was twisted in agony. His hands clutched his head as though his very soul was tearing itself apart.
Deep within Kakashi's mindscape, two distinct spiritual forces clashed violently.
One soul—bright and white—belonged to the Kakashi of this timeline. The other, darker and more somber, was the soul of the Kakashi who had experienced another life. The fusion between them had reached its climax.
The outcome was uncertain: either their minds would meld into one, granting Kakashi immense mental fortitude and clarity to wield the Mangekyō Sharingan—or they would collapse entirely, erasing both identities in the process.
His chakra surged wildly. The Sharingan in his left eye spun rapidly, the three tomoe forming a blur of red and black.
Kakashi gritted his teeth, letting out a stifled roar of pain. His chakra was nearly out of control, and the whirl of power threatened to consume him from the inside out.
Fortunately, he lived alone. No one could hear the cries of his soul breaking and reforming.
Within his mind, the two souls continued to spiral—white and black interlocking like yin and yang. Slowly, their collision transitioned into harmony, the chaos turning into rhythm, forming a perfect Taijitu—symbol of balance.
Then the image vanished, absorbed back into the core of his being.
At last, the fusion was complete.
Kakashi's new soul was no longer white or black, but a shining silvery hue—like his hair, like his future.
A strange calm washed over him. His thoughts cleared. Concepts that once felt vague now made perfect sense. His understanding of chakra flow and ninjutsu principles had become sharper, more intuitive.
His body was weak—drained from the inner war—but his spirit had never been stronger.
Kakashi sat up slowly. Sweat-drenched sheets clung to him. His breath still ragged, he leaned forward and touched the scar beneath his left eye.
The Sharingan opened.
The three tomoe spun as usual… but something was different.
The motion accelerated. Faster and faster, until the tomoe twisted and converged into a new form—a unique pattern, reminiscent of a black dart.
The Mangekyō Sharingan had awakened.