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I'm the Half-brother of Hatake Kakashi
Chapter 13 - Return to Konohagakure

Chapter 13 - Return to Konohagakure

Chapter 13 - Return to Konohagakure

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In the Hatake House, Orochimaru and Sakumo Hatake were sitting together like a pair of retired ninjas at a tea party, sipping tea and gossiping about the village like two old ladies over a plate of cookies. The room smelled like a cozy tea shop, a stark contrast to the dark, twisted schemes that usually slithered around in Orochimaru’s head.

“Senior Sakumo,” Orochimaru began, leaning in with an overly enthusiastic glint in his eye that screamed “trust me” but felt more like “run away!”

“What if we used this technique in thunderstorm-prone areas? Think about the power boost!”

Sakumo raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip of his tea as if he were pondering the mysteries of the universe. “Sure, but let’s be realistic here. It can’t rain cats and dogs every time we go into battle, right?”

Orochimaru waved his hand dismissively, fingers curling like snake fangs.

“Who says? We could totally develop a weather-changing technique! Just picture it: thunderstorms on demand, whenever we feel like it!”

Sakumo chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t sound too confident about that. What’s next? You’ll be telling me you can summon a rain cloud for a picnic?”

“Actually,” Orochimaru said, his eyes lighting up with manic glee, “I think I could make it happen! Just imagine the glory! Orochimaru, the Weather Wizard! I’ll be famous!”

Sakumo burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “You’re persistent, Snake! But seriously, how do you expect to change the weather? You’re not even wearing a wizard hat!”

“Possible!” Orochimaru insisted, practically vibrating with excitement.

This was the year when Sakumo, having more free time than a ninja during a vacation, decided to develop ninjutsu based on his son’s wild ideas. And who better to help him than Orochimaru, the mad scientist of the ninja world?

Chidori and Raikiri, the techniques Kakashi would eventually discover years later, were actually being whipped up by these two ninja geniuses!

As they experimented, Orochimaru realized this technique had potential. “It’s currently A-level ninjutsu, but with a little tweaking, it could reach S-level! We’re basically ninjas on the cutting edge of science!”

“Speaking of cutting edge,” Sakumo interrupted, glancing at the clock like it could magically speed up time.

“Kakashi and Mi Blade will be back soon. I heard from the Nara clan elders that this batch of battle teams is withdrawing to rest and renew.”

“Ah, yes,” Orochimaru nodded sagely. “My teacher is Hokage, after all. If anyone knows the scoop, it’s him. I’d trust his word over a gossiping cat any day!”

“No doubt, they should be back in two days,” Sakumo said, puffing out his chest with pride.

“My son’s out there being a ninja on his own! My decision to retire was genius! Now I can strut around like a peacock!”

News from the front lines was always exaggerated, like ninjas had become the village's best storytellers, spinning tales around a campfire.

They turned Kakashi and Mi Blade into legends, the “golden boys” of Konoha, making Sakumo walk around like he was floating on air.

“Especially when I chat with the old men,” he added, unable to hide his grin. “I feel like I should have a neon sign that says ‘World’s Best Dad!’”

Orochimaru leaned in closer, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face. “By the way, I got some news from Sarutobi-sensei! This time, Kakashi and Mi Blade might be promoted to Chūnin when they return.”

“Are they too young for that?” Sakumo asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Honestly?” Orochimaru replied, stroking his chin like a villain plotting world domination. “If they become Chūnin at this age, I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse. I mean, six-year-old Chūnin sounds adorable until you realize they might get mobbed by jealous friends and overzealous enemies!”

“When you put it that way, it’s downright terrifying!” Sakumo said, his eyes wide. “If they don’t have enough strength to back it up, that shiny title could become a giant bullseye!”

“Don’t worry!” Orochimaru exclaimed dramatically, raising his tea like a toast. “I’ll give them special training when they come back! We’ll turn them into ninja superheroes—capable of dodging jealousy and incoming shurikens!”

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With that bold declaration, they both erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the house like a pair of mad scientists plotting their next outrageous experiment.

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“Village gate!”

“We’re finally back!” Kamikawaki shouted at the top of his lungs, standing a few kilometers away from the gate like he’d just spotted his favorite snack vendor after a long, arduous journey.

“Where do you see the gate? Do you have a pair of Byakugan?” Mi Blade replied, rolling his eyes so dramatically they nearly fell out of his head.

The closer they got to Konoha, the more Kamikawaki became like a kid on a sugar high, bouncing off the walls of reality. It was like watching a puppy after a bath—so full of energy that you wondered if he might actually take off and fly.

With a burst of enthusiasm that could power a small village, Kamikawaki sprinted up a tree in one breath, his face lighting up like a kid who just found a stash of candy.

“I can already smell grilled meat, ramen, and those delicious three-colored balls! My nose is like a ninja radar for food!” he declared, practically drooling as he looked down from his lofty perch.

As he gazed down, he spotted imaginary civilians lining the streets, waving flowers and cheering as if it were a festival.

“Look! There are girls holding flowers! And Lord Hokage is standing at the end of the road, clapping like he just won a talent show!”

“Oh boy,” Mi Blade sighed, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge a stubborn thought.

“This is why we can’t have nice things. You’re imagining a welcome party that doesn’t exist. You do realize we weren’t in a war this time, right? The Ninja World is peaceful, and civilians are probably at home binge-watching soap operas instead of throwing parades.”

Kamikawaki chuckled, “At my age, I’m just full of romance! You’re ruining my good vibes with your negativity!” He puffed up his chest, as if trying to prove his point with sheer enthusiasm.

“Calm down, Romeo. You’re not in a ninja love story,” Uekawa Mu chimed in, playfully bumping shoulders with Mi Blade like they were in an action movie. “You might want to dial it down a notch. We’re almost back, but don’t go full drama queen on us!”

“Fine!” Kamikawaki pouted like a kid who just had his candy confiscated by an overzealous adult.

Just then, a voice shouted from behind the group, “Miblade!”

Everyone turned around, and there was Kakashi and his team, approaching with the casual swagger of someone who had just returned from a picnic in the park, as if dodging shuriken and saving the world were just another day in the life.

The moment felt so mundane, it could’ve been a scene from a slice-of-life ninja sitcom, and everyone couldn’t help but crack smiles as they resumed their journey toward home.

“Kakashi!” Mi Blade exclaimed, throwing a fist into the air like he’d just scored the last slice of pizza at a party.

“Yo, Sauki! You guys are back too!” Kakashi grinned, looking as if he hadn’t just endured a year of ninja boot camp and intense missions—more like a casual stroll in the park.

“Watanabe-senpai!” Kamikawaki waved enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his feet, eager to swap tales of bravery like they were trading Pokémon cards.

The two met in a dramatic fist bump, the ninja equivalent of a heartwarming hug, complete with sound effects that only they could hear.

“Looks like your power has increased again, Mi Blade!” Kakashi remarked, giving him an approving nod like a coach praising a star player.

“The same goes for you,” Mi Blade replied, his smile shining bright despite the fatigue hanging over him like a heavy cloak. After all, they were practically family now—ninja family, which is like regular family but with more shuriken and less awkward Thanksgiving dinners.

Kakashi leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal the location of the last remaining ramen shop in Konoha. “Hey, let’s try a sparring match when we get back!”

“Forget it!” Mi Blade shot back, waving his hand dismissively like he was swatting away a particularly annoying fly. “I want to go back to bed and indulge in some serious sleep—like three days and three nights’ worth! I’ve fought enough ninjas to earn my nap time!”

And with that, Mi Blade started strutting toward Konoha like he was walking the red carpet, leaving Kakashi shaking his head, half-laughing and half-worried about his brother’s questionable priorities.

To be honest, ever since Mi Blade leaped into this wild world of ninjas, he didn’t have the slightest desire to conquer the Ninja World or even think about surpassing the Six Paths. I mean, who needs that kind of stress?

His big accomplishment this time around was saving Sakumo Hatake’s life, which he proudly considered a solid win.

“Goal achieved!” he thought, striking a dramatic pose like he’d just snagged a trophy at the Ninja Olympics, complete with a fake crowd cheering him on.

As for what the future held—well, that was a job for Pain, Uchiha Madara, Hokage, and Sasuke. Mi Blade was perfectly fine kicking back and letting them handle all the heavy lifting while he focused on his own priorities: snacks and naps.

He’d been slogging away on the front lines this year, and let’s just say his motivation was about as low as a ninja with a broken kunai—flat out zero.

While other crossovers were out there battling high-ranking Konoha officials or frantically buffing up to take on Kaguya at the tender age of twelve, Mi Blade was over here living his best life with a very simple dream: save Sakumo, chill in Konoha, and level up slowly like he was playing a long, drawn-out video game.

His master plan? Build enough strength to protect himself, then hit the road, exploring the Ninja World like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet of adventures.

He had his eyes set on dating when he was seventeen or eighteen, getting married at twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and then lounging back to watch the live-action version of Hokage while munching on popcorn like it was the best blockbuster ever.

Retirement goals, anyone?

Life as a supporting character sounded like an exhausting rollercoaster ride, especially when you had to deal with the protagonist's constant angst and existential crises. It was like being stuck in a never-ending soap opera, but without the dramatic music to set the mood.

“Why worry about their hearts when I can worry about my snacks instead?” he chuckled to himself, envisioning a world where chips and ramen were the only matters of the heart.

“I wonder how my dad is doing at home?” Mi Blade mused, pondering his family tree, which was about as robust as a ninja’s excuse for being late—thin enough to slip under a crack in the door.

He had only two relatives in the world: Sakumo Hatake, the legendary ninja dad known for his heroic feats and unrivaled wisdom, and Kakashi, who was more like a younger brother perpetually stuck in a loop of terrible decisions and questionable fashion choices.

So, as long as nothing went haywire with either of them, the sky could fall, and he’d just grab an umbrella and wait for the storm to pass, sipping his drink with the nonchalance of a man who had mastered the art of relaxation.

“Who needs world domination when you have family and a cozy home?” he sighed, daydreaming about steaming bowls of ramen and afternoon naps instead of epic battles and dramatic showdowns.

In his previous life, Mi Blade was the poster child for the “average guy.” He went to school, landed a job, got married, had kids, traveled with the family, and then retired—basically living the dream in a cozy suburban bubble.

But here he was, battling ninjas and saving the world like a reluctant action hero instead of lounging on a beach with a cold drink in hand.

Kakashi, on the other hand, was still on that eternal quest for strength, like that one kid in school who kept raising his hand and asking,

“But who’s stronger: me or a rock?” The answer was usually a resounding “Of Course, I Am!”