Naruto blinked awake, his eyes locking onto the familiar cracks in his ceiling. Same old apartment, same old stains. For a moment, he stared at them, letting the remnants of his dreams flicker away—vivid images of Firelink Shrine, hollows, and the adrenaline-pumping thrill of battle. A grin stretched across his face. That's what you get, dattebayo!
He rolled out of bed, shuffling toward the bathroom and grabbing his toothbrush on the way. As he scrubbed lazily, his reflection stared back at him—half-asleep and disheveled. His hair stuck out at odd angles, and toothpaste foam dripped down his chin, but he didn't care. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the rush of last night's fights.
After brushing, he wandered through his cluttered apartment, kicking aside stray wrappers and clothes. The mess was part of its charm, really. But his plants? Those were different. Grabbing his watering can, he made his rounds, carefully tending to the little bursts of green that brightened up the dull space. "Can't let you guys die on me," he muttered.
Once the plants were watered, he eyed the rest of the mess. With a sigh, he summoned two shadow clones, who popped into existence with exaggerated groans as they took in the chaos.
"Clean this up," he said, waving a hand dismissively.
The clones glared at him but didn't argue, muttering as they got to work. Naruto, meanwhile, rummaged through his inventory and pulled out a thick, weathered tome. The History of the Uzumaki Clan.
He studied its worn leather cover as he made his way to the bathroom, settling onto his porcelain throne. The book looked ancient, its edges frayed and its dark leather cracked with age. At its center, a faint spiral was embossed, so subtle it only caught the light at the right angle. Around the spiral, intricate patterns wove outward like vines, curling toward the edges of the cover. The pages inside were yellowed and brittle, and the ink bled faintly across the parchment as though time itself was trying to erase the words.
Naruto hesitated, running his fingers over the cover. Was it disrespectful to read something so important in here? He shrugged. Some of my best ideas happen in here, anyway.
Flipping open the book, he skimmed the first lines, but his eyes widened as the words sank in.
"My name is Tobirama Senju. The year is 572 of the Amatsu Calendar, commonly known as the End of the Warring States Period."
Naruto blinked. Tobirama Senju? The Second Hokage? And this wasn't just any history book—it was a journal. Handwritten.
The weight of the book seemed to shift in his hands, heavier now, as though the words themselves carried a sense of purpose. Naruto's stomach twisted as he read on.
"With the formation of the first village, many more will follow. That is the nature of the world; it changes, for better or for worse. Many clans have shown interest in joining my brother's village, and he has sent me on a diplomatic mission to the Uzumaki clan to offer an invitation. It would give us an incredible strategic advantage should other villages emerge, though I doubt my brother considers any of that. He simply wants to extend his hand to our distant cousins."
Naruto froze, his breath catching. Distant cousins? He reread the line, his mind racing. The founders of Konoha—the First and Second Hokage—and somehow, he was connected to them?
He slammed the book shut, staring at its spiral-emblazoned cover. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface, hot and raw. Distant cousins to the village founders, he thought bitterly, and yet not a single word about the Uzumaki Clan in the academy. Nothing.
The anger sat heavy in his chest, sharp and restless. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe, to shove it down before it boiled over. Maybe I'm overreacting, he told himself. He hadn't exactly been a model student in the academy—maybe he'd just missed it. Yeah, right. That thought didn't carry much weight, but it was enough to stop him from storming into the Hokage's office and ruining his chances with the Hawk.
Instead, he stepped into the shower, letting the cold water hit his face. It stung, but it also cleared his head, snapping him out of the haze. As he scrubbed away the frustration, his thoughts wandered back to the book and… the spiral.
The same spiral on the Uzumaki book cover. The same spiral carved into the center of his Konoha headband. Something he'd seen a thousand times but never thought about.
As he stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, the thought nagged at him. Grabbing a towel, he dried his face roughly before pausing, his eyes narrowing.
"Hey," he called out. "Clone! Get in here!"
A shadow clone poked its head into the bathroom. "What now?"
"Go grab that Uzumaki book and skim it for anything about the spiral in the leaf symbol," Naruto said, toweling off his hair.
"Why not read it yourself?"
"Because," Naruto huffed, gesturing to his dripping body. "I'm wet, fresh out of the shower, and I don't want to ruin the pages. God, am I stupid or something?"
The clone raised a finger.
"Not. A. Word!"
The clone nodded and grabbed the book. After a few minutes of flipping carefully through the brittle pages, it spoke.
"Okay," the clone said. "There's a bit near the end that talks about it."
Naruto perked up, pulling the towel tighter around his shoulders.
"Tobirama writes," the clone began, "The spiral was always a symbol of the Uzumaki. When we designed Konoha's sigil, Hashirama insisted we include it, claiming it would stand as a reminder of the bond between our two villages."
"Wait, so… the Uzumaki spiral is part of the Konoha symbol because of Lord First?"
The clone nodded. "Though I believed alliances should be pragmatic and not sentimental, my brother insisted Konoha and Uzushio could never be mere allies. They were family. That bond was sealed with the marriage of Hashirama Senju and Mito Uzumaki—a union that united our villages as sister nations."
The clone smirked faintly. "My brother, ever dramatic, believed this symbol represented that connection—two separate paths spiraling together, growing stronger with each turn."
The shadow clone tossed the book at him with a smirk. "Here. You can keep reading this while I take a break."
Naruto barely caught the book, his mind too preoccupied to question the clone's sudden generosity.
Meanwhile, the clone made a beeline for the kitchen, eyes glinting as they locked onto the ramen stash.
"Break time," it muttered, opening the cupboard with a grin that would have made a starving dragon guarding a hoard look flaccid.
Meanwhile, the original dove back into Tobirama's words, his fingers tracing the faded ink.
"The Uzumaki Clan has a strange relationship with the Senju Clan," the entry began. "There is a blood connection, and the Uzumaki have never denied it, yet they care nothing for it. When the Senju waged war on the Uchiha, the Uzumaki never once offered assistance nor asked if they could help. They remained distant, almost indifferent. If you ask me, let them stay on their islands. With villages rising, it's only a matter of time before they come crawling to Konoha for protection."
Naruto stared at the words, his lips pressing into a thin line as irritation bubbled up. "You're an asshole."
He leaned back on the couch, the leather creaking slightly beneath him. Reading this journal had given him a glimpse into who the Second Hokage really was—a man as cold and logical as the paper he wrote on, someone who saw the world as a chessboard and people as pieces to be moved.
Naruto frowned, his fingers tightening on the book. What did that say about the Third Hokage?
His eyes flicked back to the page. So, my clan didn't get involved in their battles. There was a strange pride in that, a stubborn independence that felt right, like it was etched into his very bones. The Uzumaki didn't follow anyone's orders.
Turning the page, he read on. Tobirama's words were clipped, almost as if the man had been annoyed while writing.
"It has been a week since I was granted an audience with the clan leader. They rejected Konoha's offer outright."
Naruto snorted, imagining Tobirama's frustration.
"I sent a message back to the village, and now my brother has ordered me to remain with the Uzumaki. 'Learn their culture and history,' he says. 'Make friendly relations.'" The words were even written in quotes. "My brother's hope for kinship borders on naïveté, but I will do as instructed."
Naruto smirked. "Bet you hated that, huh?"
As he turned the page, his breath caught.
A drawing filled most of the next page—a bearded man, his head covered by a hood that cast his face in shadow. His eyes were sunken, intense, and… were those red? Spirals of intricate fuinjutsu seals radiated from his head like a halo, glowing faintly in the delicate pencil work. Bright strands of red hair peeked out from under the hood, vivid even on the worn paper.
The figure seemed alive, almost like the drawing was staring right back at him.
Naruto's fingers hovered over the image, hesitant to touch it. The caption below read: "History of a clan can often be inferred from its folklore. The Senju have the tale of the Yang God, the Uchiha the Yin God. Interestingly, the Uzumaki have the tale of the Hanged Man."
Creepy.
But Naruto couldn't stop reading, his grip on the page tightening.
"The story, as I have gathered, is this: the Yang God, Ashura, had two sons. One loved battle and adventure; the other was inquisitive, seeking knowledge above all else. When the time came for a successor, the scholarly son chose not to fight his brother for the title. He deemed the position worthless for his own goals. His brother became Ashura's successor and founded the Senju Clan."
Naruto blinked, stunned.
"The man traveled the world in search of answers, and his journey brought him to the islands of the Land of Whirlpools. It was here that he hanged himself—not out of despair, but to summon the God of Death. For nine days and nine nights, he hung, asking his questions of the Shinigami as it waited for him to die. Yet, on the dawn of the ninth day, he still lived. The Shinigami, impressed by the man's resilience and unyielding vitality, offered him something no mortal had ever earned before—a fragment of divine knowledge. The God of Death taught the man how to summon him at will, a privilege reserved for the brave and the damned. But that was not all. The Shinigami taught him the secrets of speaking to chakra itself.
This sacred craft, the Shinigami revealed, was a language—a way to bind the intangible and etch it into reality. Outside the Uzumaki Clan, this became known as fuinjutsu. But within the Uzumaki Clan, it was revered as the Art of Runes.
This man became the founder of the Uzumaki Clan: Oden Uzumaki."
Naruto stared at the words, his heart pounding as they settled into him like an anchor.
This story… it resonated with him in a way he hadn't expected.
It wasn't just about lineage or power—it was about someone rising from nothing to greatness, carving their own path through sheer determination. The Uzumaki founder wasn't important because he was Ashura's son or tied to any grand legacy. He was important because of what he did. Because he earned it.
It reminded him of his own story—just an orphan with dreams too big for the life he'd been handed. But that didn't stop him. It never had.
He turned the page, diving into Tobirama's drawings, and couldn't help but marvel at the detail. Each illustration was alive with vibrant energy, like a snapshot of a world Naruto was only just beginning to discover.
One drawing caught his attention—an Uzumaki village, with large, communal homes that seemed to welcome anyone inside. Wide-open doorways framed with colorful banners fluttering in the breeze gave the designs a warmth that tugged at something deep in him. Naruto could almost hear the laughter spilling out as families shared meals and stories.
Another page showed a festival scene, people dancing beneath the glow of lanterns and wearing intricate masks in honor of the God of Death.
Naruto grinned as his eyes landed on a depiction of children gathered around a pool of water and ink. Their faces were scrunched in concentration, hands moving carefully as they practiced intricate seals.
He chuckled, flipping to the next page, where a group of craftsmen were carving shields reinforced with seals. The designs looked unbreakable. Naruto smirked, thinking, Guess I'm honoring my heritage in a way, even if shields don't exactly fit my Zweihander style. Another reason to start building up my stats so I can start using shields.
Then, his laughter bubbled up as he stumbled upon a drawing of a small Uzumaki child, maybe six years old, practically drowning in a bowl of noodles. It wasn't ramen, but it looked close enough. Naruto could almost see himself in that role—living among his clan, surrounded by family, sharing meals and laughter.
For a moment, the image warmed him. But then, that familiar tug of longing crept in, bittersweet and unshakable.
What could my life have been like? he wondered, before shaking his head. Alright, Naruto. Stop daydreaming and read the damn words.
He refocused, turning to the last page, where Tobirama's words waited, steady and profound.
"I once asked the clan leader why the Uzumaki Clan's sigil is a spiral," Tobirama had written. "He said to me:
A whirlpool holds its shape, unchanging, like a memory etched in stone. But a spiral breathes and grows, shifting with each turn. What begins as a simple swirl transforms, as the vortex gives way to the spiral—ever deeper, ever evolving.
For even if it seems to spin the same, every turn carves a new path. The floor beneath it changes, the air thickens, and the scenery shifts. In each twist lies a new truth, in each descent, a hidden strength. So, too, does life shift and flow, as we are bound not to the flatness of fate but to the living spiral of choice and change. The Uzumaki walk this spiral, unbroken and ever-reaching."
Naruto closed the book, the words lingering in his mind like an echo:
"The Uzumaki walk this spiral, unbroken and ever-reaching."
Naruto felt like he truly understood what it meant to be an Uzumaki. The spiral wasn't just a symbol—it was a way of life. A reminder that every turn, every struggle, carved a new path forward. The Uzumaki didn't cling to the past or stay rooted in one place. They grew. They adapted. They endured.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
They didn't break. They just kept reaching.
Rising from the couch, Naruto wandered to the window. Below him, the village stretched out in quiet stillness, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The first rays of the sun painted the rooftops in hues of orange and pink, vibrant and alive. It felt… different now. Like a promise.
"I'm an Uzumaki," he murmured. He looked down at his hand, tightening it into a fist. "And the Squire of Oscar."
Naruto exhaled slowly, the breath steady and sure, as if releasing something he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
The spiral never ends, he thought. It keeps going, deeper and stronger with every turn.
And so would he.
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Naruto strolled into Training Ground 7—two hours late, as usual—with a smug grin plastered across his face. Tucked under his arm was his latest "treasure": the Uzumaki Clan history book.
Of course, he still couldn't show it off—it would raise too many questions. So, he crafted a plan befitting his expertise.
"Yo, Sakura! What's up?"
She looked up, her eyes going wide as they locked onto the book in his hand. "Na-Naruto… you can read?!"
"Of course I can read, Sakura. What do you think I've been doing all these years, eating the books?"
Sakura looked ready to fire back but hesitated, her expression shifting to something more uncertain. "Uh… what're you reading?" she asked, her tone unusually polite, like she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know.
Naruto smirked, his backup plan already in motion. In a split second, the Uzumaki Clan history book vanished into his inventory, replaced by a highly questionable smut book he totally didn't steal from Iruka's secret stash. Both books had identical covers—an ingenious touch Naruto had thought of himself—so he could seamlessly switch between the two without raising suspicion. Foolproof. Absolutely foolproof.
Sakura froze, her face immediately flushing bright red as her gaze darted to the bold, scandalous lettering. Her expression shifted from shock to rage in a matter of seconds. Naruto had to bite back a grin as she clenched her fists, the air around her practically crackling with fury.
"You pervert!" she shrieked, storming off toward the training dummies. She muttered under her breath, her voice just loud enough for him to catch: "Kakashi-sensei corrupted Naruto-baka. If he corrupts Sasuke-kun, he'll feel the wrath of Sakura Haruno, the beautiful maiden of war!"
Naruto barely held back a laugh as he glanced at Sasuke, who was sitting nearby, pretending not to listen while reading a scroll. Naruto decided to push his luck.
"Yo, teme," he called. "Wanna read?"
Sasuke didn't even look up, but Sakura did. Her head whipped around so fast Naruto half-expected it to snap.
"Don't you dare, Naruto!" she screamed, her voice shrill enough to make nearby birds scatter. "I'll fight you with the heart of a maiden of war in love!"
Naruto burst out laughing, doubling over at her ridiculous outburst. Sasuke, meanwhile, finally glanced at her, his expression as unreadable as ever. Sakura's face softened immediately, turning bashful, as if she hadn't just declared war seconds ago.
"Hn." Sasuke's noncommittal grunt was all she got before he returned to his scroll.
Naruto grinned wider. Sasuke didn't care, and Sakura's crushed expression only made it funnier. Winding her up was almost too easy.
"Oh my, what a lively team I've got," came a familiar, lazy voice.
"Kakashi-sensei, you corrupter! Deviant! Pervert!" Sakura yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at him, her face still flushed from earlier.
"Mou, mou, Sakura-chan, what did little old me do?"
"You corrupted Naruto with your ways!"
Naruto casually handed Kakashi the smut book with a perfectly straight face.
"Good taste, Naruto," Kakashi said, flipping through the pages briefly. "But the cover made from a camouflage cloak? Why?"
"It's so I can use Transformation Jutsu to hide it," Naruto replied with a sly smirk. "Wouldn't want Sakura getting jealous of some pretty women."
Sakura's death glare was immediate and laser-focused, boring into the back of his head like a drill.
In truth, though, Naruto had a different reason. The camouflage cloak and Transformation Jutsu weren't about hiding smut—they were about hiding the actual history book he was reading. But hey, plausible excuses were a shinobi's bread and butter, and this one was perfect.
"Alright, everyone, sit down. I need to reveal today's plans."
Naruto plopped down with a contented sigh, his plan having worked perfectly. Sakura sat as far from him as possible, muttering under her breath while glaring daggers at him.
Naruto glanced her way, noticing how uncharacteristically quiet she was compared to her usual loud tirades. Was this some kind of miracle? For a moment, he considered if he should be worried… then shrugged. Nope. Sakura being quiet was definitely proof that the gods were on his side today.
"Today's our first real training day. Here's the plan: we'll go until noon, training each of you individually. After that, you'll get a two-hour rest before we meet some special people, and in the evening… our first mission."
A surge of excitement hit Naruto. Our first mission!
But then Kakashi made three shadow clones, each one beckoning them to follow separately. It took a second, but it finally clicked. Individual training, huh?
Naruto glanced at the real Kakashi, expecting him to lead one of them, only to see him walking over to a tree and lying down for a nap. Naruto sweatdropped along with Sasuke and Sakura.
Lazy bum!
Before he knew it, Kakashi's clone had a hand on Naruto's shoulder, and in a flicker of movement, they were deeper into the forest. Naruto barely had time to blink before they stopped.
"So, what are you planning to teach me, Cyclops Instructor?"
Kakashi's clone handed him a folder instead of answering. Naruto took it, his grin fading as he looked down. The file had his name on it—his academy records—but it looked thicker. More... detailed. He flipped it open.
"What is this?"
"It's your current report," Kakashi said. "An assessment of your skills."
Naruto couldn't help but feel uneasy. Reading through, he saw:
Taijutsu skills: B
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Genjutsu skills: F
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Ninjutsu skills: A
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He skimmed past the other categories, not wanting to read every detail. Looking back up, he said, "These aren't the results I got at the academy."
"Of course not," Kakashi replied. "This is my report. My evaluation of your skills."
Oh. Naruto couldn't stop the little smile creeping back onto his face. Kakashi's assessment was definitely worth more than any report card. See? I'm awesome! But before his ego could fully inflate, Kakashi popped it like a balloon.
"But don't get ahead of yourself," he said, bringing Naruto back down to earth with a thud. "We've got a lot of work to do if you want to catch up to Sasuke and Sakura."
Naruto felt a chill run down his spine, like a breeze passing right through him. When he looked down, he froze—he was in his underwear. What the—
He blinked, and everything was back to normal. Naruto gritted his teeth, muttering, "Genjutsu."
"Exactly," Kakashi replied. "You might be better than the average academy student, but if you really want to catch up to your teammates, there's a lot you still need to learn."
Naruto clenched his fists, the old, familiar fire building inside him. "I'll definitely catch up!" he shouted.
Kakashi motioned for him to turn the page. Naruto did, and his face fell at the sight of his academic scores. The horror must have been clear on his face because Kakashi didn't even smirk—just watched him.
"Come on, Sensei, what good is the academy's 'useless' knowledge gonna do me?" Naruto waved his hand dismissively. "Like, what's the powerhouse of the cell? Who cares?"
"Alright, let's say you have a mission in the Fire Capital. You need to sneak in without anyone noticing. Which route do you take?"
"The... least obvious route?"
Kakashi's face remained blank, unamused. Naruto got the message. "Fine. But how am I supposed to become stronger if I'm stuck with books and basics?"
"Shadow clones."
Naruto scratched his head, trying to piece together Kakashi's point about shadow clones. His mind churned through everything he knew about the jutsu until something clicked.
"You're gonna use the memory transfer to boost my training," he blurted out.
"How do you know about that?"
Uh oh. Naruto hadn't exactly shown this jutsu off to anyone yet. To cover himself, he quickly flashed through the hand sign, creating a dozen clones that popped up around him, all grinning expectantly at Kakashi.
Guess that throws out the possibility of Naruto learning his strange jutsu or collecting those bizarre items from some kind of hidden treasury in the forbidden scroll. Kakashi sighed inwardly. A pity—I actually liked that idea.
"Great. Saves me from teaching you the Shadow Clone Jutsu."
"No, no, teach us, teach us!" the clones chorused.
"Alright," Kakashi said, humoring them. "If you can get a higher score than Sasuke and Sakura in the academic tests."
The clones glanced at each other, exchanging determined nods. "Yosh! Let's study!" they shouted.
"Pop the clones, Naruto," Kakashi said with a smile. With a nod, Naruto dispelled them all.
Then Kakashi handed him a scroll. Naruto unrolled it, seeing a list of subjects and notes.
"Now, make two clones for each subject," Kakashi instructed, "and an extra clone to follow me. Your textbooks and everything you need are in that scroll."
Naruto created the clones and assigned each to their study group, watching as a second Kakashi clone guided them to a makeshift "classroom." Naruto turned to follow the original deeper into the forest.
"Uh, Kakashi-sensei?" Naruto asked. "I can make way more than just a dozen clones. Wouldn't it be better if I made, like, hundreds?"
Kakashi gave him a pointed look. "A human mind can only process so much information at once. Even if you had a hundred clones reading a single line, your brain would barely register it after dispelling them. The overload would overwhelm your mind, and it might even shut down completely."
"Really? You're sure about that?"
Kakashi nodded. "Think of it like trying to shove a hundred bowls of ramen into your mouth at once. You wouldn't taste or enjoy any of it—and you'd probably pass out before getting through half. Your brain needs time to digest the information. So for now, we'll stick to a dozen clones."
Naruto still looked skeptical but reluctantly nodded. "Okay, but... what're we doing, then?"
"You and your clone will be practicing the Academy Katas," Kakashi said.
Naruto groaned. "Come on, Kakashi-sensei! Give me some cool taijutsu! Katas are so stiff—it's like a dance move. How's that supposed to help in a real fight?"
Kakashi didn't respond. He simply threw a punch, so fast that Naruto barely had time to react. He raised his palm to block, but Kakashi shifted, his body invading Naruto's space. Before Naruto could process it, Kakashi hooked his leg behind Naruto's and shoved, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Hey! What's the big deal?"
"Kata number five," Kakashi said calmly.
Naruto replayed the sequence in his mind. Kata number five... a side dodge and jump. If he'd followed the movement instead of resisting, he could've sidestepped the attack entirely.
"The academy's taijutsu isn't some flashy fighting style," Kakashi explained. "It's a series of katas created by the Second Hokage—designed to keep you alive. Each kata is a response to a common attack. It's a foundation. Master these, and you'll be prepared for a lot more than you think."
Naruto looked down, the weight of Kakashi's words settling over him. Better to learn now than regret it on the battlefield, he thought.
"Good," Kakashi said. "Now, spar with your clone. Fix your katas, and then—if you get it down—I'll teach you a very important jutsu."
A grin spread across Naruto's face. "Yatta! New jutsu!" he shouted, charging at his clone with excitement.
Kakashi facepalmed. He missed the part where this was about katas.
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The real Kakashi had swapped places with one of his clones as he walked over to Sasuke, who was deeply engrossed in a scroll on the Sharingan.
Sasuke didn't even bother looking up.
Kakashi had known from the start that getting Sasuke to play as part of a team was going to be an uphill battle. The boy was too absorbed in his own goals, laser-focused on what he thought he needed. Ironically for an Uchiha, Kakashi thought, he's extremely tunnel-visioned.
Watching him, Kakashi could see it plain as day—subtle signs in his posture, the stiffness in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. Sasuke's body had been strained to the point of breaking, a result of endless training since the day Itachi killed the Uchiha clan. The boy hadn't taken a single day of rest, not one, and it was wearing him down. He didn't realize how much damage he was doing to himself by not giving his body and mind a chance to recover.
And now, with the awakening of his Sharingan, things had only gotten worse. Itachi once described the Sharingan awakening to Kakashi as being like a surge of adrenaline, pushing the body to its limits, amplifying one's abilities but draining one's reserves faster than usual. There was a point—the post-adrenaline fatigue, in medical terms—where the body just couldn't keep up with the strain. Right now, Sasuke was seeing rapid growth. But after this stage, if he continued at this pace, that growth would stagnate, leaving him broken and burned out. The symptoms were all there, hidden behind that stoic face.
But this wasn't just about physical fatigue. Sasuke was a flight risk. Every move he made, every glance, screamed one thing: revenge. If he ever had the chance, Kakashi knew he'd go after Itachi in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences. And with Naruto growing stronger, showing abilities none of them fully understood, Sasuke's inferiority complex was a fire waiting to consume him. The more he saw Naruto's progress, the harder he'd push himself, until he burned himself out completely.
Kakashi had even consulted Inoichi Yamanaka, a man who knew more about the human mind than anyone else in Konoha, and he agreed with Kakashi's assessment. If he didn't intervene, Sasuke would break himself down piece by piece in his blind pursuit of power.
"Sasuke-kun, do you want me to train you, or are you going to spend the day buried in scrolls on the Eye of Insight?"
"Just show me your training."
"So you can copy it?" Kakashi asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Sasuke replied, his Sharingan flickering to life. "Saves us both time, and you can get back to your lazy reading."
Kakashi held back a groan. This kid…
"My dear, cute student," Kakashi started, "do you know what it takes to earn an epithet in the shinobi world?"
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. He was trying to figure out Kakashi's angle, trying to read him like he would a scroll, but Kakashi could see the wheels turning in his head.
"Notable achievements," he finally answered, but it was clear his mind had already drifted. He was thinking about Itachi. About Red Glare of the Leaf, and how he planned to surpass it someday. His eyes were full of that familiar fire, the kind that consumes everything in its path if left unchecked.
"Do you know what my epithets are?" Kakashi asked, his voice steady. He could see the impact that simple question had on Sasuke. The boy stiffened, his gaze locking onto Kakashi with something like shock. His eyes widened just slightly, and Kakashi could see the disbelief breaking through his usual calm façade.
"Multiple epithets…?" Sasuke muttered, almost to himself. That tiny crack in his stoic mask told Kakashi everything he needed to know. Good, he thought. Sasuke had never expected his lazy, book-reading instructor to have something so significant. Kakashi had already surprised him. One epithet was a lifetime achievement in this world. But to have multiple? Sasuke didn't know what to make of that.
"You know, it's a shame you didn't bother to do a background check on me."
It wasn't just an observation—it was a reminder of Sasuke's blind spot, of his lack of curiosity about the world outside his obsession with revenge.
Sasuke clicked his tongue, frustrated. "Why would I waste time doing that?"
Kakashi chuckled. "Itachi went out of his way to learn everything about me."
The effect was immediate. Sasuke's calm shattered, replaced by something raw and visceral—disbelief and rage warring within him. "What did you just say?!"
"When Itachi was stationed under me in the Anbu, he did a full background check on me. The man with a thousand jutsu, Kakashi the Copy Ninja." Kakashi lifted his headband, revealing his Sharingan. "Kakashi of the Sharingan."
For a split second, there was hope in Sasuke's eyes, a fragile glimmer. "You… you're an Uchiha?"
Kakashi shook his head, and the hope in Sasuke's eyes shattered like glass. "No," he said, his voice tinged with sympathy. "This eye was given to me by a dear friend during the war, just before he died. The Uchiha Clan wanted it back, of course, but it was your father who insisted I keep it. He honored my friend's final wishes."
Kakashi saw a flicker of happiness at the mention of Sasuke's father, a softness he rarely showed. For a moment, Sasuke was just a boy remembering his family. But then the light in his eyes dimmed, and the memory replayed in his mind—his parents lying dead, Itachi standing over them.
"Teach me everything you know," Sasuke demanded, his voice cold and brittle, his Sharingan spinning, the single tomoe in each eye alive with desperation.
Kakashi could hear it in Sasuke's voice—the undercurrent of fear, the fear that he wouldn't be strong enough, that he'd never reach Itachi.
Kakashi looked at him carefully, weighing his words. "My first training command…" He paused deliberately, drawing out the silence. "…is for you to rest for the next week."
Sasuke stared at him as if he'd just slapped him, confusion and anger battling on his face. "What are you talking about?"
"That's my first command. Go. Take a rest."
"I can't!" Sasuke's voice rose. "I have to—"
He didn't get to finish before Kakashi stepped forward, pinning him against a tree, his hand around the boy's throat, holding him there. He could feel Sasuke's pulse under his grip, erratic.
"Listen to me, Sasuke," Kakashi said, his voice low. "I trained Itachi. I trained him when he entered the Anbu. I trained him to be a captain." Kakashi let his Sharingan spin, the tomoe merging, transforming into the Mangekyo Sharingan.
"That eye…" Sasuke managed, barely able to get the words out. Kakashi released him, watching as he dropped to the ground, sucking in air, his hand rubbing the red mark on his neck.
"Here's the truth, Sasuke," Kakashi said, looking down at him. "I am the only shinobi in the world who can help you reach Itachi. But I won't do it."
"No, you can't—"
"Yes, I can," Kakashi said firmly. "And I've decided I don't want to train you."
He turned, letting his words sink in, feeling Sasuke's gaze burning into his back. Kakashi knew what Sasuke was thinking—that he was throwing away the only thing that mattered to the boy, that he was holding his dreams hostage. Kakashi could almost hear the wheels turning in Sasuke's head, that same tunnel vision driving him to desperation.
"What do you want from me?!"
Kakashi stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "It's simple," he said quietly. "I want you to do nothing for the rest of this week. No training, no missions. Just rest. If you can do that, if you can show me that you're willing to listen, I promise I'll train you. I'll make you a shinobi who could surpass even Itachi."
Sasuke's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists as he struggled with the command. Kakashi knew what he was thinking. Do nothing? How could that help? How could rest make him stronger? But Kakashi had planted the seed, and he knew that doubt would gnaw at Sasuke until he gave in. The boy had no choice; he wanted the power too badly.
Kakashi watched Sasuke for a moment longer, seeing the internal war playing out behind the boy's eyes. He knew that showing the Mangekyo had been a risk, one he hadn't wanted to take lightly. That particular Sharingan was a secret only he and the Hokage shared, a power he kept hidden unless absolutely necessary. But Sasuke needed to understand, needed to see just how serious Kakashi was about his role in guiding him down this path. This was a move to cement one truth into Sasuke's mind: if he wanted revenge, if he wanted a chance to confront Itachi one day, Kakashi was his only way.
Finally, Kakashi gave him a slight nod and turned to walk away, leaving Sasuke alone with his thoughts. He didn't need to say anything more. The boy had his command, his first real challenge, and now it was up to Sasuke to rise to it—or falter. Kakashi would be watching closely, ready to step in if needed, but he could only hope that this was enough to keep Sasuke from destroying himself in the process.
I hope I haven't misjudged you, Sasuke, Kakashi thought as he turned away, already mapping out his evening. He'd stop by the memorial stone first. He'd grab some salt-broiled saury and miso soup with eggplant on the way, something comforting after a day like this.
And, well, if he just happened to pass by the bookstore… Kakashi allowed himself a rare smile, a slight giggle escaping as he thought of picking up the new Icha Icha novel set. A reward for a job well done.