Kakashi stood silently in front of the Memorial Stone, his gaze fixed on the engraved names that shimmered faintly under the fading light. The forest around him swayed gently, but he didn't seem to feel the wind. Even when Senmei Asahi and the others approached, his expression didn't change; he neither turned nor spoke.
"Hey! Kakashi!" Might Guy called out, his booming voice echoing through the grove.
But Kakashi didn't move. He remained motionless, the outline of his form almost blending into the stone before him, as though he belonged among the names carved upon it.
His despondency came as no surprise. Though Nohara Rin's death had not been directly by his hand this time, the choice forced upon him by the enemy—the brutal dilemma between saving Rin or saving Guy—had torn him apart. Even when Rin took her own life to protect Konoha, Kakashi was still frozen in that moment of disbelief. He had been standing here, before this same stone, almost every day since.
Yuhi Kurenai, Sarutobi Asuma, and the others exchanged uncertain glances before turning their eyes to Asahi. Their silent plea was clear—if anyone could reach Kakashi now, it would be him.
Among shinobi, genius carried both pride and isolation. Ordinary words rarely reached a person like Kakashi; only someone equally talented—or greater—could speak words that would be heard. When a common man spoke, it was dismissed as mere comfort. When a name carried weight, the same words could become truth.
Only words from those who bore "fame" were remembered as "famous sayings".
Taking a steady step forward, Asahi came to stand beside Kakashi, shoulder to shoulder. He let the silence breathe for a moment, his eyes flicking across the stone's cold surface. Hundreds of names gleamed faintly beneath the sunlight, each one representing a dream, a sacrifice, a story that had ended too soon.
"Kakashi." Asahi began quietly. "Do you believe people become souls after they die?"
Kakashi didn't reply, but his head turned slightly, just enough to show he was listening.
"If Obito and Rin are watching over you," Asahi continued, his tone calm but firm, "they wouldn't want to see you like this. They'd want to see you living—fighting—for the things they died to protect."
He paused, glancing sideways at Kakashi's single exposed eye. "Obito gave you his Sharingan because he wanted you to see the world in his place—to see the peace he dreamed of for Konoha. And Rin… Rin gave her life for that same peace. Both of them entrusted their futures to you."
The air around them grew still. Even the forest seemed to listen.
"Look at Konoha now." Asahi went on. "The peace you see today exists because of people like them. Obito and Rin would have no regrets knowing that their sacrifices helped build this. Not just them—every shinobi whose name is carved on this stone is a hero. But tell me, Kakashi… how many names can this small stone hold? Can it record every heart that beat for Konoha?"
His voice deepened. "No. Those who died still live—here." He pressed a hand gently against his chest. "They live on in those who remember, those who carry their will forward."
Asahi reached out, his fingertips brushing the surface of the Memorial Stone. "The dead can't return, but the living can honor their dreams. If you keep drowning in grief, you'll only betray the trust they placed in you—their belief that you would continue where they could not."
"Well said!" Guy declared loudly, pumping his fist. "Kakashi!"
Kakashi finally spoke, his voice low and hollow. "It's all because I was too weak. I couldn't protect Rin."
"You're right." Asahi said without hesitation. "You were weak. That's why you couldn't protect Obito or Rin."
Kakashi's head snapped toward him, eyes widening slightly in shock. But Asahi didn't soften.
"But if you continue to be weak," he went on, "then more comrades will die before you—while you stand powerless again. Is that what you want? Instead of mourning the past here, why not train—grow stronger—so that kind of tragedy never happens again?"
Kakashi said nothing. His hand clenched loosely by his side, trembling slightly.
Asahi's gaze softened just a little. "When Hyuga Keita died, I felt the same." he said quietly. "He died covering for me. I know what that kind of guilt feels like, Kakashi. That's why I understand you… but also why I disagree with what you're doing."
He stepped back, turning away from the stone. "I've always considered you my greatest rival. But if you keep wasting away like this, you'll lose the right to call yourself that."
With that, Asahi looked toward Kurenai and the others. "Let's go."
He walked slowly away from the memorial, the crunch of dry leaves under his boots marking each step.
The others followed reluctantly. Behind them, Kakashi remained unmoving, his figure cast long and thin by the setting sun.
Once they had left the clearing, Guy broke the silence first. "Asahi… is Kakashi going to be okay?"
"I've said everything I needed to." Asahi replied. "The rest is up to him. He'll have to find his own way through it."
"Yeah. I hope he recovers soon." Kurenai said softly, her expression heavy with worry.
Trying to change the mood, Asuma stretched and said, "Asahi, our classmates haven't gathered in ages. How about we go out for a meal?"
"Hey, Asuma, are you serious?" Kurenai shot him an incredulous glare. "You're actually thinking about food right now?"
"I won't go!" Guy said immediately, folding his arms with determination. "Asahi is right—if I keep slacking off, I'll just end up watching others sacrifice themselves! From now on, I'll train twice as hard!"
Asahi smirked faintly. "That's just like you, Guy."
"I won't go either." Asahi added after a moment. "I need to rest. The last two days have been… busy."
"Alright," Asuma said, raising his hands in surrender. "Next time then."
…
That small interlude, fleeting as it was, changed nothing in Asahi's daily rhythm. The next morning, the world resumed its usual pace, and so did he.
Upon returning home, Asahi immediately drew a bath, allowing the heat to loosen every knot of fatigue. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, letting his chakra settle. He needed to be at his best.
Being a shinobi of Konoha meant constant missions, many lasting days or weeks away from home. Only those assigned to the village hospital had anything resembling stability—and even then, crises arrived without warning.
But as Tsunade's successor and Konoha's foremost medical expert, Senmei Asahi's work never truly ended. After Tsunade's departure, he had naturally inherited the position of director at Konoha Hospital.
Perhaps, over time, the medical staff had grown used to Tsunade's hands-off leadership. They rarely disturbed Asahi unless something was truly beyond them. That suited him perfectly.
Within those quiet halls, his private research flourished. The vaccine for cell poison, a byproduct of Orochimaru's early experiments, had been successfully completed months ago. Each discovery brought him closer to the fusion he sought—the integration of Hashirama cells.
Ensuring that he would not be interrupted, Asahi locked himself inside his private laboratory. Shelves lined with medical scrolls and glass containers shimmered under sterile light.
He rolled up his sleeve and injected the prepared vaccine. The thin needle slid cleanly beneath his skin. He barely felt it.
The reason he chose Konoha Hospital for this dangerous fusion was simple: even with his skill, there was no guarantee of success. If something went wrong, he could call for aid immediately, and the best medical team in the world was only meters away.
After the injection, he began examining his vitals. Once he confirmed the vaccine's stabilizing effects had taken hold, he retrieved a sealed vial—the First Hokage's cell solution.
The liquid inside pulsed faintly, alive in an unsettling way. Hashirama cells were infamous for their extreme vitality; once introduced into a host, they devoured ordinary cells with terrifying hunger. If not controlled, they could grow uncontrollably, sprouting roots and bark through living flesh.
Orochimaru's research had sought to balance this aggression by gradually exposing human cells to the energy within Hashirama's tissue—training the body to adapt before the invasion became fatal. In theory, it was perfect. In practice, it was deadly.
Out of sixty test subjects, only one had survived.
Still, Asahi had no intention of repeating their mistakes. He had the vaccine. He had medical ninjutsu. He had control.
Taking a deep breath, he administered the fusion.
At once, agony erupted through his chest.
The First Hokage's cells were alive—ferociously so. He felt them gnawing at his tissues, spreading, multiplying, devouring. It was as though a thousand invisible insects were burrowing into him, eating and rebuilding his body cell by cell.
He clenched his jaw but didn't scream. His hand glowed faintly green.
Medical Ninjutsu ∙ Cellular Suppression Technique.
Chakra poured into the infected region, forcing the invasive cells to slow.
The skin around his chest turned pale white, veins pulsing faintly as the foreign cells expanded outward.
At the same time, Asahi took a syringe and slowly injected the cell poison into the same region. The formula worked—partially suppressing the Hashirama cells, though without the stability of the Sharingan's natural balance.
But that imbalance was exactly what he wanted.
The body could only grow stronger by confronting chaos. Controlled instability would push his cells to adapt, to evolve, until the balance he sought became natural.
He gritted his teeth as the dual sensations of burning and freezing warred beneath his skin. The pain was unbearable—yet in his mind, one thought remained steady:
'This is the price for strength.'
*****
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✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
✓ Naruto: Who Made Him a Ninja?
✓ Bleach: In My Second Reincarnation, I Became The Ninth Kenpachi
✓ To Love-Ru: Spoiler Route [R-18]
✓ Naruto: The Accidental Incubus [R-18]
✓ The Academy's Saint Is Too Popular, But He's Not the Protagonist [R-18]