Kakashi, Do You Want to See Your Father Again?

Under Kakashi's gaze, Shiraishi opened the wooden box in his hand and discovered it contained a kunai specifically crafted by Minato for the Flying Thunder God technique.

"Minato is heading to the front lines today, isn't he?" After closing the box, Shiraishi looked toward Kakashi.

Kakashi nodded and explained on behalf of his teacher, "Master Minato intended to deliver this to you personally before leaving, but Elder Danzo had matters to discuss with him, so he entrusted it to me."

"Danzo?" The smile on Shiraishi's face deepened; he could likely guess the purpose behind Danzo seeking out Minato.

"If you have no further business, Senior, I shall take my leave." Having said that, Kakashi prepared to depart.

"Wait." Shiraishi called out to stop him.

Kakashi, who had already turned halfway, paused and faced Shiraishi once more.

"Are you heading to the front lines as well?" Shiraishi asked.

Kakashi shook his head.

"Then do you have any plans today?" Shiraishi continued.

Kakashi shook his head again.

"Then may I pay a visit to your home?" Shiraishi shifted the topic, asking with blunt directness.

Kakashi was left bewildered by the question. Who asks to visit someone's home the very first time they meet?

This friend of Master Minato's was truly eccentric!

Kakashi wanted to refuse, but out of respect for Minato, he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly agreeing, "Very well."

"Great, let's go then!" Shiraishi walked up to Kakashi's side with an air of familiarity, smiling as he urged him along.

Kakashi looked up at Shiraishi, question marks constantly popping up in his mind. What was wrong with this guy?

Though he was highly uncomfortable with Shiraishi's over-familiarity, Kakashi led him toward his home in silence.

After passing through three streets and a stretch of farmland, Shiraishi followed Kakashi to the front of his house.

Kakashi's home was located near the fields—a detached wooden house with its own small yard. It looked somewhat aged, possessing a rustic, countryside charm.

Logically speaking, given the fame of Kakashi's father, Hatake Sakumo, and the number of missions he had undertaken, their home shouldn't have been in such a dilapidated state.

Seeing the house in its current condition, Shiraishi was quite curious: where had all the money gone?

Shiraishi didn't press the matter, however. He followed Kakashi inside and, at his gesture, sat down on a cushion in the living room.

As Kakashi went to the kitchen to prepare tea, Shiraishi scanned the living room before his gaze settled on a short blade displayed on a wooden shelf.

The blade was encased in a dark yellow scabbard and appeared unremarkable, but in Shiraishi's eyes, it was surrounded by a dense aura of slaughter.

If Shiraishi's guess was correct, this was the very chakra-infused blade left to Kakashi by his father, the one that had been snapped during the battle against Hidden Stone ninjas by this prodigal son.

Soon, Kakashi returned to the living room with two cups of barley tea. Seeing Shiraishi's gaze fixed on his father's blade, he pressed his lips together beneath his mask, walked over silently, and placed the tea before him.

Shiraishi picked up the barley tea and, after watching Kakashi sit down opposite him, spoke slowly: "Kakashi, you are Minato's disciple, and you went out of your way to deliver his gift to me today. As your elder, I really should thank you properly."

Looking at Shiraishi, who was only a few years older than himself, Kakashi felt the urge to roll his eyes, but out of politeness, he replied courteously, "There is no need. This was Master Minato's instruction."

"No, no, this is a gesture from me, your elder." After taking a sip of the tea, Shiraishi set the cup down.

Shiraishi certainly wouldn't let a promising talent like Kakashi slip through his fingers, let alone considering the bond he shared with Obito.

Come to think of it, it was precisely because of Shiraishi—the butterfly effect—that Danzo had seen a glimmer of hope in becoming Hokage, and thus had not gone to the Land of Rain to stir up trouble.

With no interference from Danzo, and with Hiruzen Sarutobi currently in charge of Root, the Akatsuki in the Land of Rain had yet to face their first near-annihilation, and their leader, Yahiko, was still alive and well.

Shiraishi had seen all this intelligence within Root; monitoring and collecting foreign intelligence had always been a task for the organization.

As the current leader of Root, Hiruzen Sarutobi held a deep appreciation for the philosophy of achieving peace through communication, as advocated by Akatsuki.

Because of this, the first generation of Akatsuki had luckily avoided Danzo's conspiracies in the Land of Rain, escaping the tragic fate of near-total destruction.

"Kakashi, that short blade is a memento left by your father, isn't it?" Shiraishi looked toward the ninja blade, asking a question to which he already knew the answer.

"It is!" Kakashi looked toward the blade as well, answering calmly.

Under Kakashi's gaze, Shiraishi stood up and walked toward the blade resting on the shelf atop the cabinet.

Standing before the cabinet, Shiraishi turned his head to look at Kakashi. "Kakashi, do you wish to see your father again?"

Kakashi's eyes widened sharply. Although he had emerged from the shadow of his father's suicide with Obito's help, that did not mean he no longer missed him.

On the contrary, having experienced the sacrifice of close friends one after another—especially after killing Rin with his own hands—Kakashi felt an even greater need for the guidance of an elder.

"What do you mean by that?" Kakashi asked coldly. If Shiraishi weren't a friend of Master Minato, he would have assumed he was being mocked.

"I once obtained a long-lost secret technique. It originates from an ancient profession known as 'Spirit Mediums.' Spirit Mediums possess the ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead, and even with the gods of legend," Shiraishi explained in detail.

Kakashi frowned. To him, Shiraishi's explanation sounded far too bizarre; a profession like that sounded like a scam.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" Shiraishi saw through Kakashi's inner thoughts.

Kakashi said nothing, but the expression above his mask said it all.

Shiraishi smiled and reached out to take the short blade from the shelf. "The conditions required to perform this secret technique are so harsh that the tradition was lost during the chaotic Warring States period. I only stumbled upon it by accident."

As he spoke, Shiraishi drew the blade from its scabbard, revealing the broken remnant that was only a fraction of its original length.

"To successfully summon a spirit, not only must the soul harbor a powerful obsession at the time of death, but one must also find an object to which that obsession is anchored." Shiraishi pointed the broken blade at Kakashi. "As it happens, this ninja blade meets every single condition."

Kakashi could no longer sit still and stood up abruptly, a trace of excitement appearing on his face, though he dared not fully believe it due to lingering doubt.

"Is it true?"

"Of course!"

Shiraishi walked up to Kakashi and held the ninja blade out toward him. "With your longing for your father in your heart, smear your blood onto the blade."

Kakashi stared at the ninja blade before him, every memory of the time spent with his father flashing through his mind, and he slowly reached out to take the weapon.

Extending his right thumb, he placed it against the razor-sharp edge, his mind freezing on the moment he discovered his father had committed seppuku at home.

Without a shred of hesitation, Kakashi drew his right thumb across the blade; blood flowed from the wound, staining both sides of the steel red.

Shiraishi formed a hand seal, his expression solemn and upright, carrying an air of inviolable authority.

A gust of eerie wind swept through the living room, the temperature in the chamber began to plummet, and a mass of blue soul-fire manifested out of thin air before Shiraishi.

Kakashi's eyes widened, his face filled with astonishment as he watched the blue soul-fire dive directly into the blade held in his hands.