Voices echoed in Kakashi's mind.
"Look at what you look like now…"
"Kakashi, I believe you'll find your own way…"
"Come on, you bastard…"
"We've always been with you…"
They weren't just voices—they were memories, fragments of bonds that had never truly left him. They reverberated deep within, pushing against the heavy fog that had long clouded his spirit.
Kakashi knew. He was caught in a genjutsu.
But strangely, he felt no anger. No desire to break free. Instead, a part of him wanted to stay, to soak in this warmth for just a little longer.
He wasn't angry at Uchiha Kai for casting it. In fact, he was grateful. Because in the illusion, he could finally hear them again—Obito, Rin, even Minato-sensei.
But illusion or not, Kakashi understood something now.
"…If I go to the Pure Land like this… Rin and Obito wouldn't smile at me. They wouldn't approve."
His voice was quiet, barely a whisper.
He opened his eyes.
The voices faded, like mist under morning light—but their weight, their message, had imprinted on his soul.
He wasn't cold anymore. The dullness that had clung to his eyes like a curse was gone. Even the Sharingan—scarlet and swirling—felt calmer. Less haunted.
Alive.
"…This feeling…"
He blinked, listening to the chirping birds in the forest canopy above. The same sounds that once agitated him now filled him with a strange sense of peace. For so long, anything vibrant, anything alive, had felt like an insult to his emptiness. But now?
The world was beautiful again.
The sun was warm. The sky was blue. It had always been that way—he just hadn't seen it.
"So beautiful…" he murmured.
His hand rested on the ninja blade at his waist. Slowly, he unsheathed it. The faint shing of metal against the scabbard sent a strange shiver through him. For the first time in a long time, he felt something from the sword. A connection.
Purpose.
Suddenly, his senses picked up footsteps—soft, measured.
He turned slightly.
No hostility. No need for caution.
He already knew who it was.
Sure enough, Uchiha Kai stepped through the trees. A child followed beside him.
"Yo. You're awake?" Kai said casually, but the glint in his eye betrayed satisfaction.
Kakashi nodded. "At first… it felt like a nightmare. But then, it turned out to be the most beautiful dream. Thank you, Kai."
"Don't thank me." Kai shrugged. "If you hadn't been able to face yourself, it wouldn't have mattered. You found your own way back."
Kakashi didn't respond immediately. He looked down at his hands, then to the blade, then finally to Kai again.
"I would've fallen… if it weren't for you."
Kai didn't press the point. He already knew.
Kakashi's eyes drifted to the girl standing beside Kai. Seven or eight years old, by the look of her. Timid, with large eyes that clung to Kai's figure for security. Her clothes were worn, mended repeatedly, and her hands showed signs of hard labor.
An orphan, Kakashi thought immediately.
"This child…?" he asked.
"Her name is Iori," Kai replied. "No surname. From an orphanage."
"I see." Kakashi's gaze softened. "Take care of her. In this era… kids like her don't stand a chance without someone."
He knew the pain well. After Sakumo's death, Kakashi had been alone for a long time. The silence that followed the loss of a parent was unbearable—especially in a world like theirs.
"Don't worry," Kai said calmly. "She's not a tool, or a weapon. She's… valuable in her own right. Eventually, she may become a ninja. But I'm not grooming her for missions."
Kakashi smirked faintly. "You've changed."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Have I?"
Kakashi nodded. "You see people differently now."
Kai didn't argue. Instead, he smiled—just a little.
Kakashi turned back toward the forest, toward the wind. "If there's anything I can do… I'll help."
Kai scoffed. "You can't even beat me right now. What kind of help are you offering?"
They both laughed lightly. It was a sound neither of them had heard from each other in a long time.
"But," Kai added, "I'm glad you picked up the sword again. You'll gain something from this. I'm sure of it."
Kakashi looked at the blade again. That strange connection—it was still there. As though the sword now resonated with his will.
He sheathed it with a swift, practiced motion.
He wanted to return. To test this feeling. To grow again.
Later… At Kai's Home
"You'll live here now," Kai told Iori. "Clean up and get settled."
For the first time, Kai noticed how small his house felt. It had been fine for three people—especially when he was out on missions most of the year. But the war was over now. Things were changing.
And with Iori here… it really was getting cramped.
He was second only to Fugaku in the clan now. Commander of the Konoha Military Police Force. His old house no longer fit his new life—not just in size, but in meaning.
"I'll do my best to tidy up," Iori said quietly. "But… I don't know what you want me to do here."
"Your job is to learn," Kai replied, his voice calm. "Ryoko and Keisuke Uchiha—my elders—also live here. But your role is simple. Study. Focus on the materials I give you."
"Study what?" she asked.
"Medical ninjutsu," Kai answered. "I'm not putting you in the hospital, but I want you to have skills. Real ones. Five days a week you study. Weekends you can return to the orphanage if you want."
She nodded slowly. Still uncertain—but no longer fearful.
Kai observed her quietly.
He didn't say it aloud, but she was important. More than she could ever know.
"Do your best," he said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Maybe… you'll become your village's pride someday."