White-Haired Kakashi, Copying Thousand Years of Death

Swish.

The wind blew past the small two-story building, leaving only the rustling of leaves.

No other sounds.

"Just my imagination?"

Uchiha Jin muttered, his gaze suspiciously fixed on the dense treetops.

Whoosh—

The night wind carried the sound of pine waves from the forest behind the Leaf, quietly sweeping over the eaves and landing on the crooked tree in front of the door.

Uchiha Jin stood in front of the worn-down two-story building, holding two large bags of trash in one hand.

He stared straight at that crooked tree twenty meters away.

A flow of light surged in the depths of his eyes.

Dynamic Vision, activate!

Whoosh—whoosh—

The wind grew stronger. Among the branches twenty meters away, a strand of silver hair swayed gently in the night breeze—like a spider's thread spun from moonlight.

"A white-haired Anbu. So it's Kakashi-senpai after all."

Jin smiled, casually lifting the two bags of trash as he greeted him.

Crack.

On the treetop, the figure's relaxed muscles tensed slightly.

"He recognized me?"

Kakashi's Adam's apple rolled beneath his mask, and a hint of interest flickered in his exposed eye.

"Who would've thought that after all these years, the Leaf would produce such an interesting kid."

Thinking this, he parted the branches and poked his head out to look.

The moment he showed himself, he was shut down.

"So, Kakashi-senpai, didn't you know that teaching a kid to drink expired milk and eat instant ramen isn't healthy?"

Uchiha Jin swung the two bags of trash in his hands, and a big pot came crashing down.

Crack.

A dry leaf snapped underfoot.

Kakashi, who had just shown his face, froze in place, his expression shifting unpredictably.

A trace of guilt and self-reproach crept onto his face.

To be honest, from the initial daze of losing his teammates to the later frenzy of killing enemies on the battlefield to numb himself—

Kakashi had once been lost.

And luckily, relying on his laziness and sloth, he managed to pull through.

But... that lazy attitude had stuck.

Now, being called out on it, a thought arose in his heart:

"If Minato-sensei knew his orphan was living like this, he'd probably be disappointed in me..."

Instinctively, he stopped in his tracks.

He didn't want to show himself.

Or rather, he didn't dare.

He didn't dare to face that face below, so strikingly similar.

Little Naruto really did look just like Minato-sensei...

Thinking this, he swung his hand, tearing through the leaves beside him to reveal two Anbu inside.

Two Anbu, who were eating meatballs and watching the show: ???

Wait, Kakashi-senpai, you—!

Their movements stiffened for a moment.

Instinctively, they turned to look toward the window.

Six eyes met.

"Oh! Isn't this the cat-faced uncle who was watching my house every day last month?"

Seeing the familiar outfit beneath the mask, Jin perked up, his voice rising noticeably.

"Why haven't you come this month? The new cat-faced uncle is a mute—he won't say a word."

"Tch, just goes 'ah-ba ah-ba'..."

Snap.

The two Anbu froze in place.

One of them, in particular, felt his mask crack with a dull thud, a fissure splitting open to reveal the pale face beneath.

He was on the verge of tears.

Almost crying.

During his surveillance of the Uchiha Clan, he'd spent every day perched in a tree, being teased and chatted up like a monkey by this brat!

And just to squeeze a few more words out of him, that damn Uchiha brat had even tempted him with bananas.

Bananas!

Did he really think he was a monkey to be played with?

As a chunin, he had his pride!

That was why, after gritting his teeth through two and a half years, he'd chosen to transfer.

But... who could've guessed he'd run into him here of all places?

The buzzing in his ears churned his mind into chaos.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, he barked out:

"Shut up!"

"I already requested a transfer—how the hell am I still running into you?!"

"Dammit, with the chump change I make in a month, why the hell am I risking my life?!"

With that, he turned and bolted.

Behind him, his Anbu partner hesitated for a moment, then silently followed.

Anyway, with Kakashi-senpai here, it didn't matter whether they stayed or not.

Kakashi: ...

"As Anbu, scared off by a kid? Heh, too impulsive, you youngsters."

He let out a cold laugh, about to chase after them and drag them back.

But just then, the boy's voice drifted over from the window again:

"Kakashi-senpai, you wouldn't want your teacher to find out about this, would you?"

Crack.

Another branch snapped underfoot.

Kakashi sighed and halted his step.

His silver-white hair peeked out from among the leaves.

His gaze was heavy with suspicion: "Who the hell is this guy?"

A kid of five or six, yet he knew so much!

Even secrets about him!

This... was seriously off.

Could there be something wrong with the Uchiha Clan?

Maybe chatting with this little brat would turn up something unexpected.

With that thought, his contempt for the two Anbu who'd just fled only deepened.

A golden opportunity to extract intel openly, and they chose to dodge it.

"Tch, kids these days. Too impulsive."

He shook his head, standing straight on the tree trunk.

"Don't be so tense." Jin sat cross-legged by the window, casually flicking at the breeze in front of him. "I just wanted to ask Kakashi-senpai, when you use Earth Style: Earth Flow Wall, do you have to carve a dog head on it?"

Kakashi: Kind of wanted to leave now.

Three minutes later, Kakashi's brow furrowed slightly.

[Conversation Target: Kakashi Hatake.]

[Copyable Traits being analyzed.]

[Weak Constitution (Black), Sharingan (Purple), Fire Style Mastery (Blue), Water Style Mastery (Blue), Lightning Release Mastery (Blue), Earth Style Mastery (Blue), Taijutsu Mastery (Blue), Genjutsu Mastery (Blue), ...]

"Whoa! So this is the guy they call the little Jiraiya, the Hexagonal Warrior, Kakashi?"

"These stats..."

Honestly, Jin was a bit surprised when he saw the results of his scan.

Even knowing full well that this legendary Copy Ninja had countless techniques at his fingertips.

But even so, starting off with a series of masteries was still beyond his imagination.

The Sharingan might have played a part in this, but it couldn't have been too significant.

Otherwise, with so many Uchiha, why would most of them specialize in just Fire Release?

Was it that the others didn't want to master more?!

What's more, among all of Kakashi's mastery traits, if he randomly copied one, it should at least be a decent trait, right?

After all, the proportions were right there—it couldn't possibly end up being something like Weak Constitution.

Jin didn't believe his luck would be that bad.

Of course, if he got lucky and copied something like Lightning Cutter or Chidori, that would probably be even stronger.

With that thought, he couldn't help but start looking forward to the trait copy ten minutes later.

"Looks like I'll have to chat with Kakashi more often from now on."

Thinking this, Jin looked towards Kakashi, his gaze full of excitement.

Ten minutes.

Kakashi pressed his temple, finding it a bit noisy.

He had originally wanted to pry for information, but—this kid in front of him was just spouting nonsense!

And hitting where it hurt!

Sure, children say whatever comes to mind.

But—couldn't he show some restraint?

It was like he was stabbing a knife right into Kakashi's heart.

If the person in front of him weren't a child, Kakashi felt he might not be able to stop himself from picking up a Kunai and stabbing Jin's mouth to shreds!

Code
[Ten minutes of conversation with Kakashi Hatake completed. Attempting to copy trait.]

[Copy successful. Congratulations, host. You have obtained the special trait Thousand Years of Death (Black): Poking at people's sore spots with a special stance often yields unexpected results.]

After seeing the prompt, Jin's smile froze slightly.

Even so, he didn't need Thousand Years of Death...

Was he supposed to be on the battlefield, while everyone else was killing it, and he'd be hovering with Weak Presence on top of his head, Flying Thunder God under his feet, and Thousand Years of Death in his hands, poking anyone who took off?

Maybe—he should just fuse it?