Work Text:
Kakashi sat at the top of the vertical water tank, right above Sasuke, who had just pulled his arm out of the reservoir. A powerful jet shot out instantly, splashing the surface with a loud hiss. Next to him, Naruto did the same. He had damaged the tank too, but only a thin stream of water trickled out. Kakashi let out a sigh—part exasperation, part exhaustion.
He had just stopped his two students from literally trying to kill each other, and they were this close to dragging Sakura into their madness. She’d risked her life trying to get between them. In moments like these, Kakashi genuinely regretted accepting the responsibility of this chaotic trio. He didn’t have the patience or the will to deal with kids this explosive.
“You were really gonna kill Naruto?” Kakashi asked Sasuke, his tone mockingly light.
The young Uchiha shot him a cold glare, filled with quiet rage. This brat needs a slap, Kakashi thought, holding back. Still, he couldn't ignore what was behind that extreme move. Sasuke hadn’t just used Chidori to counter Naruto’s Rasengan. No, he was aiming for something much bigger: a possibility. A new power, something beyond the Sharingan. The Mangekyō Sharingan. A dark force strong enough to match Itachi. Kakashi knew that power all too well. He also knew what it demanded in return: the death of someone close.
A deep voice rose from below the tank.
“Probably wasn’t the smartest move teaching him Chidori, Kakashi.”
Kakashi tilted his head slightly. Down below, leaning against a wall with arms crossed, stood Jiraiya. His gaze was serious, almost heavy.
“And it wasn’t smart to teach him Rasengan either,” Kakashi shot back, irritation in his voice.
Jiraiya met his eyes for a second before looking away.
“Honestly, didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to use it against a friend… Something bad happen between them?”
“They’re deep in teenage meltdown mode. Constantly sizing each other up to see who’s got the bigger one. Gonna take more than a kick in the ass to snap them out of it. Especially Naruto…”
Kakashi glanced at the Kyūbi jinchūriki, who didn’t seem to notice the conversation. He stood still, expression blank, fists clenched tight, gaze lost in some inner storm.
Jiraiya sighed deeply. “I’ll handle Naruto. You deal with Sasuke. Teenagers or not, they’re still ninjas. We can’t let this slide.”
************************************
Hidden in the branches above Sasuke, Kakashi watched him. The genin was curled in on himself, shoulders hunched under the weight of thoughts too heavy for someone his age. He trembled slightly, wound tight like a cord ready to snap. In a whisper barely audible, Kakashi heard him say, “Naruto… how did you get so strong…” Then, lower, almost a growl: “Fuck you, Itachi…”
Kakashi understood. He understood that pain all too well. He’d felt that helplessness before. He too had hit the ground hard after facing Itachi. He too had his pride crushed by that cold, unstoppable force — the power of a true Uchiha. He never thought of himself as weak, at least not that weak. In Sasuke’s shoes, he might have lost it too, unable to hold back the rage.
Making a decision, Kakashi dropped from the tree and landed in front of his student, ready to block any escape.
Sasuke glared at him, brows furrowed, eyes hard.
“Leave me alone.”
His tone was calm, controlled, but every word oozed bitterness.
Kakashi wasn’t fazed. He slowly crouched down, deliberately, getting almost to eye level. Even like this, he still slightly towered over him.
“I’ve got a confession to make,” he said, placing a hand beside his mouth like he was sharing a secret.
Sasuke squinted at him, wary.
“Naruto can pee farther than you.”
Sasuke flinched, cheeks flushing. “So what? Why are you telling me this?”
But Kakashi caught the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. A half-suppressed smirk. His dumb joke had worked, even for a second.
“Just proves he’s better than you.”
This time, Sasuke shut down. His face tightened. The jab had hit a nerve. But Kakashi wasn’t here just to poke at him.
He softened his voice, more sincere now.
“Jokes aside. You’re a real genius, Sasuke. Don’t tear yourself down just because Naruto’s improving. He couldn’t stay a dumbass forever, y'know?”
Sasuke’s body tensed. His fists clenched against his knees.
“That’s not the problem. I couldn’t even touch Itachi…”
No words were needed. Everything was written in Sasuke’s body—his silence, the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze kept drifting. Why is Itachi interested in him and not me? Why am I always second best? I’m weak. I couldn’t even beat Gaara. And Naruto… he found a new teacher. Stronger than Kakashi. All these thoughts were what Kakashi could hear inside him.
Sasuke looked up. Something flickered in his dark eyes — a strange intensity that unsettled Kakashi. A part of him shivered.
I know exactly what you’re thinking, Kakashi told himself. That look, he recognized it. Sasuke blamed him. Felt betrayed, abandoned. Kakashi’s heart clenched. He knew he’d failed him. Knew it too well.
He sat cross-legged, posture casually relaxed — a stark contrast to the weight of their thoughts.
“Itachi’s not human,” he said finally, voice rough. “Even the last Hokage wasn’t on his level.”
Sasuke didn’t move. His stare stayed sharp, cold as a blade. Kakashi continued, steadier, “Out of all of us, you’ve got the best shot at beating him. But you’re still young. Getting your ass handed to you is part of the deal. Takes time, hard work, and pure will. If it was that easy, I wouldn’t have ended up in a coma after fighting him…”
A heavy silence fell. Sasuke looked down, jaw tight. He was fighting something inside — ready to burst, held back only by pride. Kakashi didn’t need words. It was all written on that tense face.
He spoke more gently, “As for Naruto, don’t worry. Yeah, he’s working hard. But he’s also hiding a little secret. ~ Itachi doesn’t give a shit about him. It’s something else he and his buddy are after.”
Sasuke slowly looked up, a crease of doubt between his brows.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ask him. ~ And if he won’t talk, watch him with your Sharingan. As long as you can. But I bet you’ll need all three tomoe to see it clearly.”
Sasuke squinted, curious. Then looked up, a faint sigh escaping. It hit him: he should’ve thought of that sooner, analyzing Naruto with his Sharingan.
And in that mix of naivety and anger, Kakashi remembered something he often forgot: Sasuke was still so young. Fresh out of the academy, already caught in a game way bigger than him. Thrown too fast into a world where not all scars are visible—and the ones on the soul take forever to heal.
Sasuke’s voice broke the silence, his expression hardened. “Whatever. You really think you’re more useful to me than Orochimaru?” His hand rose to his shoulder, where the cursed mark pulsed faintly, like a venomous reminder.
Kakashi’s gaze sharpened. He heard the challenge buried in the words. Sasuke had every reason to doubt. Even under Kakashi’s watch, he hadn’t been able to beat Gaara, hadn’t laid a finger on Itachi. Meanwhile, Naruto—under Jiraiya, a Sannin—had grown faster, fought harder, and even managed to protect Sakura. Kakashi registered the comparison. But knowing Sasuke still saw him as the weaker option hit a little closer than he liked.
He took a slow breath, steadying the sharp edge of resentment rising in his throat. Then, slipping back into his usual lazy drawl, he snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered something trivial.
“Oh! The cursed seal. Forgot about that one. I’ve thought it through, and that power’s way too unstable. Orochimaru promised you strength, sure. But what he gave you? Something pretty trashy. The second you push your limits, you’re flat on your back. I doubt losing your mind will help you restore your clan’s honor.”
Sasuke shrugged. Trying to act unaffected. But Kakashi caught the subtle signs — the slight twitch in his temple, the tension in his neck.
“So what?” Sasuke said, voice low, almost hollow. “If that’s the price I gotta pay to get revenge, then fine.”
The silence stretched, heavy with everything left unsaid. Sasuke looked down. He looked done. Drained. Kakashi could tell — it wasn’t just physical exhaustion. It was the weight of the choice. He understood what it meant. Orochimaru had given him something tangible, even if flawed. A clear offer. A direct promise. How could Kakashi compete with that? He himself had failed against Itachi. And he hadn’t even been able to properly train Sasuke, his most gifted student.
Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was pride. But the thought of Sasuke running off and proving Kakashi was nothing more than another weak link in the chain burned deeper than he wanted to admit.
“No need to throw your sanity into the fire just yet,” Kakashi said, more sharply now. “There’s another option. One that actually suits an Uchiha.”
He was almost sure Sasuke already knew how to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan. And in a twisted way, Kakashi wanted him to succeed. He wanted to see him reach that level, cross that line. But he also knew exactly what that meant. And for someone who actually cared about the boy, lecturing him about it felt... wrong. The Copy Ninja wasn’t exactly in a position to play moral compass — not after everything he’d done himself. Atrocities no mission report could ever record. Things he’d done. Sometimes out of duty. Sometimes by choice. And if Sasuke had to sacrifice someone he loved to awaken that power…
Without saying a word, Kakashi slowly lifted his forehead protector, revealing his Sharingan. Then he reached out and gently placed his hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, inviting him to meet his stare.
A shiver ran through the young ninja.
The tomoe spun and warped, forming a twisted triple-bladed scythe, the tips meeting in a menacing geometric shape. Kakashi activated his Mangekyō Sharingan.
His voice dropped, low and almost funereal, “If you really want to unlock that eye… then kill me.”
Deep down, some part of him wanted it. A twisted kind of wish: to die by the hand of someone dear. Not for redemption—just to know he’d mattered enough to be the price. Selfish hope. And if Sasuke was truly capable of it, of going that far, then maybe he really did have the potential to surpass him. It would be an honor to be the key that awakened the true power of his esteemed student.
At those words, Sasuke froze, wide-eyed. His breath caught in his throat. His legs trembled. A wave of cold terror surged through him, awakening a memory he’d buried deep — one he never wanted to relive.
“How… how did you do that?” he asked, voice shaking, suddenly sounding way younger than he liked.
Kakashi deactivated the jutsu — it was draining his chakra way too fast. Then, with a smile dancing at the corners of his eyes, he replied casually, “I killed my girlfriend. ~”
Sasuke’s face went pale. Completely drained of color. It was like something shattered inside his mind, a wall crashing down.
And in the next second, fury took over. In a flash, he jumped up and slammed his fist into Kakashi’s face.
Kakashi didn’t move. He stayed seated, motionless, taking the hit without flinching. He deserved it.
Sasuke froze right after. He stood there, fists clenched, lips trembling, unable to say a word. But the look he gave said everything — burning with accusation, anger, and hurt. And Kakashi saw it clearly in that gaze: You’re just like him.
“It was pure chance. I didn’t even know that jutsu existed back then,” Kakashi muttered, voice dull. He let the sentence trail off, like he didn’t want to dig any deeper. Then, steadier, “But hey… if it’s power you’re after, I’m still your best shot.”
Sasuke turned away, face tight.
“And what makes you think I care about you enough for it to work?”
Kakashi gave him a crooked smirk.
“Touché. But I’d seriously advise you not to go after Naruto. You’ll regret it more than you can imagine.”
Sasuke hesitated. He blinked, jaw clenched. Then slowly inhaled, trying to regain control.
“Why would you be willing to die for me?” he asked, his voice low, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Don’t get me wrong. I never said I’d just let you kill me. ~ But the day you’re strong enough to do it, you might actually be ready for revenge. It should be enough to awaken your Mangekyō.”
Sasuke gave a faint scoff, though didn’t argue. His silence felt less like agreement, more like consideration.
A quiet tension settled between them, dense and unresolved. Then, almost as an afterthough, “Okay, that’s enough. I’m heading home. We’ll see about tomorrow.”
He paused, waiting for a response. But Kakashi said nothing. He just stared at him.
Taking that as tacit approval, Sasuke turned and walked away, steps fast and tense.
Kakashi stayed where he was, seated, gaze lost in the growing shadows. A faint smile tugged at his lips under the mask.
He had a feeling he’d bought them a little more time.