Chapter Text
The mornings in Konoha were always accompanied by the crisp chirping of birds and the long, resonant tolling of the bells drifting in from the Ninja Academy in the distance. For Hatake Kakashi, today was supposed to be a momentous occasion—barring any unforeseen mishaps, he was set to take charge of the legendary Team 7—a squad notorious for being a magnet for trouble—in his new capacity as their Jonin Squad Leader.
But mishaps, as always, arrived sooner than tomorrow.
Kakashi was woken up by a sensation of being "weighed down."
It was a strange feeling—not the suffocating paralysis of sleep demons sitting on one's chest, but rather a tangible, substantial weight pressing down right there on his sternum. It felt as though two of his ninja hounds—perhaps Pakkun and the others—had decided to nap on his chest, bobbing gently with the rhythm of his breathing. Still groggy, he attempted to roll over, only to feel a sensation of suffocating tightness radiating from the fabric stretched across his chest.
"Mmph..."
Frowning, Kakashi opened his eyes and instinctively reached a hand toward his chest; his palm instantly sank into a mass of astonishing softness.
In that instant, the mind of the former ANBU ace—now Konoha’s foremost technical expert—went completely blank for a full three seconds.
He sat up abruptly, and the tight-fitting black combat uniform he habitually wore to sleep let out a faint, delicate *rip*—the sound of fabric giving way under unbearable strain. Kakashi lowered his gaze, his usually dead-fish eyes now bulging wide in sheer astonishment. Gone were the flat, taut pectoral muscles he was accustomed to; in their place stood a pair of towering, dizzyingly voluptuous curves that stretched the fabric of his bodysuit until it was nearly translucent. As his gaze drifted lower still, something even more despairing occurred. His once-well-fitting top—its fabric now stretched taut across his chest—had ridden up drastically at the hem, leaving his flat, toned stomach completely exposed to the air.
With trembling hands, Kakashi pressed his fingertips gently against his abdomen.
It was gone.
His hard-won, sharply defined abs—the product of countless hours of grueling training—had vanished without a trace. The sensation beneath his fingertips was soft, warm, and smooth—the tender skin of a woman lacking physical conditioning, cushioned by a thin layer of subcutaneous fat.
"Is this... a genjutsu?"
He scrambled—or perhaps, given the circumstances, "she" should be the pronoun now—to clamber off the bed.
Barefoot on the floor, Kakashi could even feel the excess flesh on his inner thighs quivering slightly. He rushed into the bathroom, bracing his hands against the sink as he stared—unblinking and horrified—at the figure reflected in the mirror.
In that moment, Hatake Kakashi experienced a profound sense of utter collapse—a feeling akin to dying while still alive.
The person in the mirror possessed a messy mop of medium-length silver hair; his signature Sharingan remained, the scar over his left eye was still there, and there wasn't even the slightest sign that his height had diminished.
But...
Kakashi turned his body to the side in despair. The reflection revealed a breathtaking, dramatic S-curve.
Far from becoming petite or delicate due to the gender swap, this body retained his impressive height of 181 centimeters. Yet, his formerly lean, masculine inverted-triangle physique had been completely remolded into a stunningly voluptuous hourglass figure. His shoulders had narrowed slightly, while his waist had cinched in to an astonishingly slender circumference; his long legs were now straight and shapely.
Worst of all—as if governed by some twisted law of conservation—the weight of the muscle mass he had lost seemed to have been entirely converted into fat, accumulating with ruthless precision and utter absurdity upon his secondary sexual characteristics.
Full in the front, round in the back.
It was, quite simply, the pinnacle of a mature, seductive female physique—the kind that would have made Lord Jiraiya suffer a fatal nosebleed on the spot.
Kakashi took a deep, shuddering breath, his gaze trembling as it drifted downward toward his lower body. He reached out a hand, groping toward his crotch with one last flicker of hope.
It was empty.
In that instant, the worldview of Konoha’s "First Technician" shattered.
"Calm down... Hatake Kakashi, you have to stay calm."
She murmured to the beauty staring back from the mirror. Though her voice still carried its characteristic languor, it had clearly taken on a more magnetic, gentle quality—the cool, sultry tone of a mature woman.
To verify this absurd reality, Kakashi raised a hand and, trembling once more, pressed it against the soft flesh of her chest—flesh that was currently rising and falling with her rapid, panicked breathing.
It felt heavy in her grasp; her fingers sank effortlessly into the yielding tissue. This exquisite, unhindered sensation—so soft and springy to the touch—felt so real it made her want to weep.
"Release!"
Kakashi abruptly formed a hand seal, unleashing a burst of chakra as she let out a low shout.
Silence descended upon the bathroom, broken only by the rhythmic *drip-drip* of the faucet. The stunning beauty in the mirror continued to stare back at her, her expression one of utter breakdown.
Nothing happened.
"This is impossible..."
Kakashi refused to accept it. She yanked up her forehead protector, revealing her crimson Sharingan; the three tomoe spun wildly as she attempted to peer through the surrounding space, searching for chakra flows that simply weren't there. Immediately afterward, she flicked her right hand; a burst of blue lightning erupted in her palm—the genuine article: the Raikiri.
"Sizzle... *BOOM!*"
Her wild, uncontrolled Lightning-style chakra blasted straight through the bathroom mirror, tearing a massive, scorched crater into the wall behind it.
The intense chakra drain instantly left her body—still unaccustomed to such exertion—completely drained of strength. Kakashi’s legs went soft; overwhelmed by a sense of physical frailty she had never experienced before, she sank to her knees on the floor, gasping for breath as beads of sweat trickled down her slender neck and vanished into the deep cleavage of her chest.
It really... wasn't a genjutsu.
After half an hour of futile struggle, having completely depleted her chakra reserves, Kakashi flopped back onto the bed—lying there like a dried-up fish that had lost all will to live.
In her current state, even the simple act of rolling over felt like an unbearable burden on her chest. She turned her head, her gaze landing squarely on the photo frame sitting on the bedside table.
It was a group photo of Team Minato. In the picture, their blond-haired sensei smiled gently, Rin beamed brightly, while that goggle-wearing idiot wore a look of utter annoyance as he stared at his younger self.
Staring at Obito’s face in the photograph, Kakashi’s previously muddled mind suddenly experienced a flash of insight—like a bolt of lightning tearing through the night sky—and she recalled the bizarre, outlandish dream she’d had the previous night.
In the dream, amidst a swirling void of chaos, a voice of indeterminate gender had solemnly proclaimed:
“Hatake Kakashi, the timeline has shifted. To reclaim your original body, you must purge the malice and obsession from the heart of the one who ‘seeks to destroy the world.’ Only through love and peace may you return to being a man.”
Kakashi clutched her smooth, rounded forehead in anguish, letting out a long, drawn-out groan.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
She rolled over; her soft, slender midsection sank into the bedding as she moved.
“At least my chakra reserves haven’t changed.”
She gazed out the window at the peaceful streets of Konoha—pedestrians laughing and chatting happily, and wisps of steam rising from the shops selling dango.
“But… on a day this peaceful—the kind that just makes you want to take a nap…”
Kakashi buried her face in her pillow in sheer exasperation, her voice muffled and thick with utter despair:
“Who on earth has so much time on their hands that they actually want to destroy the world?!”
Kakashi rolled around on the bed in frustration; the single bed, already far from spacious, felt positively cramped now that it was occupied by this fuller, more voluptuous female body. With every roll, the heavy, soft flesh of her chest was uncontrollably squeezed and distorted; the strange, mortifying sensation forced the former ANBU assassin to come to an abrupt halt.
“Pull yourself together… You are a battle-hardened ninja.”
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to detach from her spiraling emotions as her mind began to race. Since the physical transformation was an undeniable reality, that dream remained her only lead. “Eliminating the malice of that ‘person who seeks to destroy the world’...” Kakashi sat cross-legged on her bed, propping her chin in one hand; her brow was furrowed with a gravity usually reserved only for S-rank missions.
As an elite ninja who had survived the Great Ninja War and served as the Captain of the ANBU, the list of dangerous individuals in her mind was—to put it mildly—appallingly long.
Could it be Danzo Shimura of the Foundation? That old geezer was always itching to stir up trouble.
Could it be Orochimaru, lurking in the shadows? His fanatical obsession with human experimentation certainly held the potential to destroy the world.
Or perhaps that stubborn faction from the Hidden Stone Village?
Or even... Kakashi’s gaze drifted toward the window as she thought of her sensei’s son—Naruto Uzumaki, the Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails. If the seal were to spiral out of control, it would indeed be a catastrophic blow to the world.
At that thought, Kakashi suddenly felt as though the once-peaceful Hidden Leaf Village was riddled with hidden explosive tags—a place where danger lurked around every corner.
“No matter who it is...” Kakashi gritted her teeth, and a blazing fire ignited within those typically languid, dead-fish eyes. “To turn back into my old self... for the sake of my abs... for the sake of my—no! For the sake of world peace, I *will* hunt you down!”
However, the immediate consequence of being so deeply immersed in this mental whirlwind—where “saving the world” was synonymous with “reclaiming her true self”—was that she was, quite gloriously, late.
When Kakashi finally rushed into the Ninja Academy, the classroom was already empty; only the very last group of students remained, waiting inside. The moment she slid the classroom door open, just as expected—
*Smack!*
A blackboard eraser, thick with chalk dust, landed with pinpoint accuracy right on top of her head, kicking up a small cloud of white powder.
Kakashi made no move to dodge. On one hand, she was accustomed to using such moments to lower her students' guard; on the other... she hadn't quite adjusted to the shift in this body's center of gravity yet.
“Hahahaha! See? I told you he’d fall for it!” Naruto pointed toward the doorway, clutching his sides with laughter.
“Idiot. How could a Jonin possibly fall for a trap like that?” Sasuke scoffed from nearby, though his eyes, too, were fixed on the doorway. Sakura, looking worried, tried to smooth things over: "Sensei, I'm so sorr—"
However, the trio’s voices cut off abruptly the moment the dust settled and they caught a clear glimpse of the figure standing in the doorway.
A deathly silence descended upon the classroom.
Kakashi let out a helpless sigh, picked up the chalkboard eraser lying on the floor, and brushed the chalk dust from her long silver hair. Then, she let out a sigh in a voice—deep, sultry, and distinctly feminine—that exuded the mature allure of a sophisticated woman: "Well... how should I put this? I was actually planning to compliment you on your energy, but right now... my first impression of you guys is actually pretty terrible."
Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura stood frozen as if struck by a paralysis jutsu; all six of their eyes were locked in a wide-eyed stare at their new teacher standing at the podium, their mouths gaping open in perfect "O" shapes.
*Th-this... this is our Jonin Squad Leader?*
"Alright, stop gawking. Let's head up to the rooftop."
Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable under their three pairs of burning gazes, Kakashi turned on her heel and walked out.
It wasn't until they reached the open expanse of the rooftop that the eerie silence was finally broken. The four of them sat down in a circle; as the gentle breeze swept past, and the moment Kakashi crossed her legs to sit, Naruto—sitting directly across from her—flushed a deep crimson, turning as red as a boiled shrimp and stumbling over his words.
"S-Sensei... um... could you maybe pull your vest down a little?" Naruto stammered, covering his eyes with his hands—though the gaps between his fingers remained wide open. "When you were walking over here just now... your ch-chest kept bouncing! Seriously!"
Kakashi froze mid-motion, glanced down at her chest, and immediately adopted an expression of utter resignation—as if she had completely given up on life.
It couldn't be helped; she really had tried her best.
She had rushed out the door in such a hurry that she hadn't had a single moment to go buy any women's clothing; she had no choice but to grit her teeth and put on her original combat uniform.
The black bodysuit—which had once fit her perfectly—was now being put to a grueling test. The highly elastic fabric was stretched to its absolute limit by her ample bosom, clinging tightly to every inch of her skin and accentuating two breathtakingly high, voluptuous curves. Because she wasn't wearing any undergarments—the kind specifically designed for women (a category of clothing that simply didn't exist in her home)—those two soft mounds beneath her bodysuit took on a natural, teardrop shape: slightly drooping, yet still firm and pert. With every breath she took and every movement she made, they quivered ever so slightly—a sight so provocative it would make anyone blush.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The absolute worst part was the dark green vest—the very garment that served as the symbol of her status as a Leaf Village Jonin.
The zipper, which was supposed to be pulled all the way up to the collar, could now barely make it past her slender waist. Any higher, and it was ruthlessly snagged by the sudden, abrupt protrusion of her chest. Encased in the black bodysuit, those two "colossal masses" spilled brazenly out of the vest's gaping neckline like a pair of cannonballs poised to explode; the deep cleavage between them lay completely exposed to the air, tracing the voluptuous curves of her tight-fitting suit.
Dropping one's gaze further down, one would notice that—due to a widening of her pelvis and a newfound fullness in her thighs—her once-baggy ninja trousers had transformed into a pair of skin-tight leggings. They stretched tautly over her long, shapely legs and her round, firm buttocks, accentuating every sensual curve of her flesh.
She looked less like a Jonin and more like some female spy clad in a "seduction combat suit"—an outfit designed specifically to bewilder and disarm the enemy.
Even Sasuke—the epitome of cool composure—shifted his gaze awkwardly, the tips of his ears turning faintly red as he stared intently at a nearby railing, as if convinced it held the secret scriptures for the restoration of the Uchiha clan.
Sakura, however, after recovering from her initial shock, let an expression of undisguised envy show in her eyes. She stared at Kakashi’s impossibly slender waist—one that looked small enough to be spanned by a single pair of hands—and the astonishing curves rising above it, unable to stop herself from murmuring aloud: "That is just too much... When I grow up, I really hope I can have a figure like yours, Sensei..."
"Ahem."
Kakashi gave an awkward little cough, attempting to steer the conversation back onto a professional track. Although it was a largely futile effort, she nevertheless tried to pull the vest—which simply refused to close—more tightly around herself, striving to project an air of authority. “Alright, let’s start with introductions. I am Hatake Kakashi.”
She paused, her mismatched eyes—one red, one black—sweeping over the three children. “Things I like, things I dislike... I’d rather not tell you. As for my hobbies... well, I have quite a few.”
“Tch—so all we learned was her name!” Sakura couldn't help but quip.
“However...” Kakashi’s gaze suddenly turned razor-sharp. Her normally languid, mature voice took on a new edge—a tone of seething, teeth-grinding ferocity. She clenched her fists, and her masked face seemed to be shrouded in a dark, ominous aura.
“My dream is... to hunt down that bastard who wants to destroy the world, beat them to a pulp, and then...”
Kakashi took a deep breath, then roared out her next words, enunciating almost every syllable:
“Turn back into a man!”
A gust of wind swept through, swirling a few fallen leaves into the air.
Kakashi regained her composure and looked earnestly at the three dumbfounded kids standing before her, adding: “Your teacher used to be a genuine, bona fide handsome man—don't you go getting that wrong.”
“Huh?!”
Naruto was the first to leap up, his eyes darting back and forth between the chest straining against her skintight suit—stretched almost to transparency—and her slender waist. His face practically screamed, *“Are you kidding me?!”*
“Sensei! You might be all mysterious behind that mask, but there’s a limit to how much you can lie!” Naruto pointed at Kakashi’s curvaceous figure and shouted his retort: “With a body like that—all curves in all the right places—how could anyone possibly think you’re a man?! Do you think we’re blind?!”
“Pipe down!”
Kakashi rolled her eyes in exasperation, completely ignoring Naruto’s loud protests. In her mind, her current female appearance was nothing more than an inconvenient shell; deep down in her soul, she remained that same cool-headed, elite male Jōnin. As long as she could track down that damn person intent on destroying the world, everything would go back to normal.
“Alright then. Tomorrow morning at 5:00 AM—meet me at the training grounds. And remember: don't eat breakfast. You’ll just end up throwing it back up.”
With that irresponsible threat tossed over her shoulder, Kakashi vanished in a sudden *poof* of white smoke. But before heading home to catch up on sleep, she had one crucial task she simply couldn't skip—reporting in at the Hokage Tower.
As the door to the Hokage's office swung open, Sarutobi Hiruzen was sitting at his desk, a pipe clenched between his teeth as he reviewed documents. When he looked up and saw a stunning beauty—with a voluptuous figure and a cascade of silver hair—walking in with a look of utter gloom on her face, the old man nearly dropped the pipe right onto his desk.
"Naruto? No... that chakra..."
"That is..." The Third Hokage narrowed his eyes; a flicker of shock flashed within those eyes that had seen countless people. "Kakashi?"
"It is I, Lord Hokage."
Kakashi let out a helpless sigh, her voice tinged with deep exhaustion. She stood before the desk; although she tried desperately to maintain her usual listless posture, the sheer, excessive weight of the burden upon her chest forced her to straighten her back to maintain balance—an act that, ironically, made it look as though she were deliberately flaunting her astonishing S-curve figure.
After a rather awkward examination and explanation, Hiruzen Sarutobi finally accepted the reality of the situation.
"Are you saying that you must find the 'person who wishes to destroy the world' in order to revert to your original form?" The Third Hokage exhaled a smoke ring, looking pensive. "Such a phenomenon is truly unheard of. However, seeing as there are no abnormalities in your chakra flow, and neither your ninjutsu nor your physical prowess have been compromised... for the time being, we can only let things stand as they are."
"Let things stand?" Kakashi widened her dead-fish eyes in disbelief. "Lord Hokage, this is incredibly inconvenient!"
"I will attempt to contact Tsunade; if anyone can spot a clue, it would be her," the Third Hokage said reassuringly. He then cast an appraising glance over Kakashi’s black bodysuit—which looked as if it were about to burst at the seams. "However, before that happens, you really do need to change your outfit. While a ninja must learn to adapt to their environment, going to instruct the Genin dressed like *that*... is indeed a bit too 'stimulating'." ”
Kakashi felt as though she had been granted a reprieve; she immediately headed to the Quartermaster’s Office to request a brand-new, extra-large Jōnin vest.
However, reality is often far crueler than one’s ideals.
Ten minutes later, standing before the fitting mirror at the Quartermaster’s Office, Kakashi gazed at her newly issued vest and fell into deep contemplation.
It was a pristine, dark-green, standard-issue Leaf Village Jōnin vest—thickly padded, designed to serve the dual purpose of providing defense and storing scrolls. Kakashi took a deep breath, laboriously tucking her ample bosom into the vest; then, gripping the zipper pull, she gave it a sharp yank upward—
“Zzzzzzt—”
Accompanied by a sound of grating friction that set one’s teeth on edge, the zipper struggled its way up the incline. Finally, it met just above her chest—now cinched painfully tight—effectively sealing those two mounds of soft flesh securely beneath the thick fabric.
“Phew… Success.”
Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief, observing her upper body in the mirror—which, at last, appeared somewhat “flat.” Although the chest area still bulged out noticeably, she at least looked like a proper ninja now.
But the very instant she exhaled that breath, the natural rise and fall of her ribcage generated an irresistible outward tension.
“SNAP!” ”
A soft *click*.
That poor metal zipper pull, as if unable to withstand the immense internal pressure—betrayed by the combined forces of gravity and elasticity—slid down with absolute smoothness...
“*Ziiip*—”
In an instant, it plummeted from her neckline all the way to her waist.
The majestic, snow-capped peaks that had previously been held captive instantly regained their freedom; they sprang outward abruptly, forcing the two flaps of her vest wide apart. Far from providing any coverage, the dark green vest now resembled a meticulously crafted picture frame—sitting perfectly at her slender waist—serving to showcase, like a centerpiece surrounded by stars, the deep, alluring cleavage and full, rounded curves encased within her tight black bodysuit.
Kakashi: “...”
Refusing to accept defeat, she took another deep breath and pulled the zipper back up.
She let go, then exhaled.
“*Ziiip*—”
The zipper slid smoothly back down to her midriff once again, and those two heavy, fruit-like mounds once again stubbornly “burst from their shells,” quivering ever so slightly in the air.
Kakashi stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror: *Even an extra-large size can’t save me? This actually looks even more risqué than it did a moment ago...*
“Forget it...”
In this battle against the combined forces of gravity and ergonomics, Hatake Kakashi chose to simply give up and go with the flow. She tugged at the zipper pull that had settled at her waist, thinking to herself with a sense of utter resignation:
*As long as I don’t feel awkward, the awkwardness belongs to everyone else.*
The following morning, at the training ground.
Unsurprisingly, Kakashi was late once again. As she finally sauntered into view beneath the scorching midday sun—approaching three children who were so famished their stomachs felt glued to their spines—she was still clutching a copy of *Make-Out Paradise* with its distinctive orange cover.
In this cold, hostile world where she had been cruelly transformed into a woman, only the written words of Lord Jiraiya could offer her a shred of warmth and solace.
Although, now that she was holding that book in her slender, elegant hands—framed against the backdrop of her own voluptuous, heaving bosom—she looked, from every conceivable angle, exactly like a perverted female teacher engrossed in some highly questionable reading material.
“You’re so slow!!” "Naruto and Sakura roared in unison.
"Sorry, sorry—I got a little lost on the path of life for a moment there..." Kakashi offered a casual, half-hearted apology as she set her alarm clock. "You have until twelve o'clock noon to snatch these two bells out of my hands. Whoever fails to get one goes without lunch—and gets tied to a log to watch me eat my bento."
Battle was imminent.
At first, Kakashi did indeed feel a faint sense of incongruity.
When Naruto came charging at her, screaming wildly with a kunai raised high, she instinctively tried to step back and dodge. However, the shift in her center of gravity caused her upper body’s movements to lag a split second behind her intentions—the weight of the two mounds on her chest not only obstructed her downward field of vision but, under the influence of inertia, also created a subtle sensation of drag.
"My center of gravity is too high..."
Kakashi silently assessed the situation in her mind. She was forced to abandon her usual broad, sweeping style of Taijutsu, opting instead to leverage the superior flexibility of this new body.
Faced with Sasuke’s fierce barrage of thrown shuriken, Kakashi chose not to meet the attack head-on. With a twist of her waist, she executed an incredible backbend—bending backward like a boneless water snake—her form-fitting outfit stretching taut to accentuate a stunning curve of waist and hip as she narrowly evaded the sharp blades.
As the battle progressed, she gradually regained her rhythm. Although this female body possessed slightly less raw strength than her previous one, its flexibility, agility, and neural reaction speed proved to be unexpectedly exceptional.
She began to weave through the trees—that body, which had initially felt like a hindrance... At this moment, her curves seemed to transform into a deceptive weapon. She landed lightly on a tree trunk; with a swift sweep of her long leg, she dispersed Naruto’s Shadow Clone, then—pinning Sasuke’s wrist with a single hand—she used a burst of subtle leverage to send the arrogant young genius flying.
Although the whole affair was a bit chaotic—her vest zipper even slid down another notch amidst the violent movements, revealing even more of the black bodysuit beneath—Kakashi had, at least, managed to preserve her dignity as a Jōnin in front of these brats.
...
At high noon, the alarm clock rang.
Naruto was trussed up tight against a log, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Meanwhile, Sasuke and Sakura sat clutching their bento boxes, gazing at the food before them with expressions of deep internal conflict.
Kakashi remained clad in her signature attire—a look that screamed, "I may be fierce, but I look incredibly sultry." She hid behind a tree, observing the trio through the gaps in the foliage.
When she saw Sasuke and Sakura—defying orders to do so—offer their own portions of bento to Naruto, the heavy weight lifted from Kakashi’s heart. She closed her copy of *Make-Out Paradise*, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.
"Alright. Time to wrap things up."
A puff of smoke erupted, catching the trio—who were in the very act of secretly feeding Naruto—red-handed.
"Ah!" Sakura recoiled in panic, snatching her hand back.
Sasuke gritted his teeth, gripping his chopsticks with wary vigilance.
Naruto, his mouth still stuffed with a rice ball, tried to offer a mumbled explanation.
The sky grew heavy with dark clouds, and a fierce wind suddenly whipped up.
Kakashi emerged from the swirling smoke, wearing what she *thought* was a menacingly grim expression.
"You three..."
She had intended to strike a pose of extreme ferocity—radiating pure killing intent—and use a low, gravelly voice to deliver the chilling message: "You guys are toast."
However, reality proved to be a cruel mistress.
The gale whipped her long silver hair into disarray, sending strands sticking to her cheeks, which were glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Her dark green tactical vest—already gaping wide from the previous battle—flapped wildly to either side as she moved. Her lithe, shapely figure—previously encased so snugly in her form-fitting bodysuit—was now laid bare for the three children to see without reservation. Her slender waist, her ample hips, and—most notably—her high, full bosom rising and falling dramatically with every breath...
The scene that unfolded looked less like the arrival of a terrifying, demonic drill instructor, and more like a "battle-damaged" version of a beautiful female superior throwing a tantrum.
Sasuke’s tightly wound nerves inexplicably went slack; he even turned his head away in sheer embarrassment.
Naruto, unsure whether to swallow or spit out the rice ball still lodged in his mouth, simply stared wide-eyed at Kakashi’s chest, completely oblivious to any supposed killing intent.
Sakura, while feeling a flicker of fear, wore an expression that conveyed something else entirely—a look of concern that seemed to say: "Sensei has such a great figure... but it looks like her clothes are about to burst at the seams!"
"..."
Gazing at these three brats who showed absolutely no signs of being intimidated, Kakashi felt a distinct twitch in her eyelid.
If looks alone weren't scary enough, then it was time to bring out the special effects!
"Zzzzt—!!" ”
A piercing roar of thunder erupted suddenly, and a violent, blue-white lightning flared to life in Kakashi’s right hand. Illuminated by the electric glow, her face—ordinarily so beautiful—finally revealed a hint of ferocity and menace.
“To think you’d dare disregard my orders...” Kakashi lowered her voice, the radiance of her *Chidori* ionizing the surrounding air until it crackled and popped.
“Aaaah—!!!”
Sakura finally let out the terrified scream Kakashi had been expecting—a primal shriek born of an instinctive fear of death.
Hearing that scream, Kakashi felt a deep sense of satisfaction wash over her. Finally—*finally*—someone was showing some respect for the authority of a former ANBU assassin!
Highly pleased, she let the lightning dissipate; the fierce expression on her face melted away instantly, like snow beneath the sun, transforming into her signature gentle smile—eyes curving into crescent moons.
“You’ve all—passed!”
This sudden reversal left the three of them frozen in place, standing rigid as stone statues.
“Huh?!”
Kakashi shoved her hands into her pockets (though her pants were so tight she could barely squeeze them in); her back—usually slouched—now leaned languidly against a wooden post behind her as she explained in a lighthearted tone:
“That was your first lesson. All the groups before you failed precisely because they were *too* obedient—they blindly followed every rule without question. I sent every single one of them back to the Academy to start over.”
She gazed at the three children—each with a distinct personality, yet perfectly complementary to one another—and a flicker of nostalgia crossed her visible right eye, as if she were looking through them to see the Team Minato of days gone by.
“In the world of shinobi, those who break the rules and violate the iron laws are indeed branded as trash.”
Kakashi’s voice grew solemn, imbued with an unshakable resolve. As the wind ruffled her silver hair, she stood tall; in that moment—despite her feminine appearance—the commanding aura of a true powerhouse radiated from her, leaving everyone utterly awestruck.
“However...”
She leaned forward slightly, fixing her gaze upon them, and spoke each word with deliberate emphasis:
“Those who fail to cherish their comrades... are even worse than trash!” ”
Meeting the trio’s stunned gazes, Kakashi straightened up and gave a dashing thumbs-up:
“The training exercise ends here! Starting tomorrow, Team 7 officially begins taking on missions!”
“Yeah!” Naruto cheered, leaping into the air.
Watching the three energetic youths, Kakashi thought to himself: *Alright. Now that the first step has been taken, the next phase is to guide these brats through their missions while simultaneously hunting down that bastard who’s out to destroy the world.*
…
Deep within a dark, damp underground cavern, the colossal Gedo Statue stood in silent stillness. No sunlight reached this place; the only illumination came from faint candlelight flickering against the rocky walls, swaying gently in the shifting air currents.
A man wearing an orange spiral mask sat upon a stone throne, idly toying with a shuriken in his hand as he listened to Zetsu—who had emerged from the very earth—deliver his report.
“...That pretty much covers the situation regarding the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki. He graduated successfully, and the team assignments have already been finalized.” White Zetsu’s flippant voice echoed through the cavern’s vast emptiness. “However, there is a piece of *very* interesting news—specifically regarding his supervising Jonin, Hatake Kakashi.”
Obito’s fingers paused ever so slightly. Beneath his mask, his crimson Sharingan cast a cold, sidelong glance at White Zetsu; his voice was low and hoarse, radiating an aloofness that warned all others to keep their distance: “What happened to that piece of trash? Is he dead?”
“No, no, no—it’s far more amusing than death.” White Zetsu chuckled, his upper body swaying back and forth like a pitcher plant. “Hatake Kakashi has turned into a stunning beauty! And I’m talking about a top-tier stunner here—curves in all the right places. Even *I* couldn’t help but steal a few extra glances.”
*Snap.*
The shuriken in Obito’s hand crumpled, unconsciously twisted out of shape by his grip.
The air hung frozen in silence for a long moment.
“What the hell are you spouting?” Obito’s voice was laced with barely suppressed fury; had looks alone been capable of killing, White Zetsu would have already been reduced to a pile of mush. “What do you mean, ‘Hatake Kakashi turned into a stunning beauty’? You’d do well to cut that kind of humorless joke short—right now.” ”
In his mind, how could Kakashi—that piece of trash who lived his life like a walking corpse—possibly be associated with a word like "beauty"? The only explanation was—
"Did Konoha decide he knew too many secrets and finally kill him off?" Obito speculated coldly. "Did they find a body double? Or was it a Transformation Jutsu?"
"It’s the real deal, though. Her chakra signature hasn't changed at all, and there are no traces of a Transformation Jutsu," White Zetsu said, spreading his hands with an air of total innocence. "If you don't believe me, I have a visual recording—footage from the moment that female Kakashi was testing Team 7."
Obito fell silent for two seconds, then slowly pressed a hand against his forehead; beneath his mask, his brows were knitted tightly together. "…Show me."
White Zetsu obediently split open half of his body, using a specialized Ninjutsu to project a visual memory directly into the air.
The image lit up the dim interior of the cave.
The first thing to catch the eye was a familiar, unruly mop of long silver hair, along with a pair of dead-fish eyes that exuded an aura of utter listlessness—an aura palpable even through the screen.
Obito gave a cold snort, just about to mock this "imposter" for doing a surprisingly good job with the imitation, when his gaze suddenly froze.
In the footage, Hatake Kakashi stood with one hand planted on her hip—a pose that caused her dark-green Jōnin vest to stretch taut against her body, strained to its absolute limit.
Then, as if to validate White Zetsu's claims, the overburdened zipper gave a sharp *zip* and slid all the way down to her waist.
*Snap!* ”
Two massive, soft curves—tightly encased in a black bodysuit—suddenly sprang into view, completely exposed and rising and falling with her every breath. It was a breathtaking, blood-pumping silhouette—the kind of stunning figure possessed only by a mature woman.
The footage continued to play. To dodge a shuriken thrown by Sasuke, the female Kakashi executed a deep backbend—a move that demanded extreme flexibility. The fabric, clinging tightly to her skin, accentuated a slender waist—small enough to be spanned by a single hand—as well as... the incredibly full and shapely curves of her buttocks.
“What the...”
Obito froze completely in his stone chair, as if struck by a high-level paralysis jutsu.
The scene shifted to the exact moment Kakashi unleashed her *Chidori*. The blue crackle of electricity illuminated the face half-obscured by her mask; her gaze was sharp and fierce, yet when paired with the neckline that had fallen slightly open from her vigorous movements—and a single bead of sweat tracing a path down her slender neck into the deep cleavage below...
This wasn't the “First-Rate Technician of the Leaf” at all; she looked more like some kind of scandalous succubus!
“What the hell has this imposter been doing?!”
Obito shot to his feet so abruptly that the stone chair behind him scraped against the ground with a jarring shriek.
Beneath his mask, his weathered, half-scarred face flushed an uncontrollable crimson. The searing heat of his blush threatened to radiate right through the mask itself, causing his breathing to grow noticeably heavier.
His mind was in utter chaos.
Logic told him that this absolutely could not be Kakashi; Kakashi was a man—that cold-blooded bastard. This had to be some imposter who had appeared out of nowhere—wearing Kakashi’s face and Kakashi’s clothes—and was here... here, shamelessly flaunting herself!
“Utterly shameless!” ”
Obito cursed through clenched teeth, yet his eyes remained locked on the final frozen frame of the image—Female Kakashi smiling as she gave a thumbs-up to her three students. Though that smile was gentle, the subtle tremor of her chest left him feeling inexplicably parched, and a sudden flush of heat seemed to surge through his nasal passages.
“To think she’d go and mess herself up like this... Unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable!”
Obito took a deep breath, attempting to steady his heart—which was pounding like a drum—but his mind... His mind was consumed entirely by the fleeting instant when that zipper had slid open just moments ago.
“That imposter—not only did he steal that Sharingan, but now he actually has the audacity to tarnish the reputation of ‘Hatake Kakashi’ with such a lewd display...”
Obito clenched his fists; within his crimson Sharingan, swirling patterns churned as murderous intent boiled over—yet, it was intermingled with a sense of agitation and unease that even he himself could neither define nor explain.
“White Zetsu, keep a close watch on Konoha.”
Obito’s voice was slightly distorted by sheer indignation. He spun around abruptly, his black cloak billowing behind him, and strode rapidly into the depths of the shadows—as if to conceal something.
“Since Konoha dares to pull a substitution trick like this... I’ll go meet this ‘beauty’ personally, and let her find out exactly what happens to anyone who tries to impersonate that man!”