Chapter 3: First Meeting with Kakashi

Kakashi (with his usual dead-fish eyes):

"..."

Takeshi (with an awkward but polite smile):

"..."

Kakashi was speechless. He had just heard his father's footsteps and happily pushed open the door, only to see his father standing there holding the hand of a kid who looked a bit younger than him.

If it weren't for the fact that the kid had black hair, the precocious Kakashi might've seriously thought he suddenly had a younger brother.

"Kakashi, I'm back." Seeing the two of them locked in an awkward stare, Sakumo scratched his head and took the initiative to break the silence.

"Mm, welcome back, Dad." Kakashi, having shed his earlier excitement, replied lazily.

Takeshi took the initiative to reach out his hand and introduce himself.

"Hi, I'm Takeshi."

Looking at Takeshi's thin, pale hand, Kakashi hesitated for a moment. But under Sakumo's hopeful gaze, he finally reached out and shook it.

"Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi."

Feeling the texture of Kakashi's hand, Takeshi silently noted in his heart—so many calluses. This hand was nothing like that of a normal child. It seemed Kakashi truly was a hardworking genius.

On the side, Sakumo felt a wave of relief. Thank goodness—Kakashi accepted him.

At least his son's personality hadn't gone completely astray.

Having been away on missions for long periods, Sakumo had always worried that Kakashi had no friends. In his eyes, although fulfilling missions was a ninja's duty, surviving long in the shinobi world required trustworthy comrades above all else.

"Takeshi will be staying with us for a while. When you're free, you can take him around the village." Sakumo seized the chance to help them get closer.

"Huh? But I still have to train..." Kakashi let go of Takeshi's hand and instinctively tried to decline.

"You can just take Takeshi with you," Sakumo replied cheerfully as he stood up, giving Kakashi no chance to refuse. He walked straight to the kitchen and tied on a pink apron.

"I'll go make lunch. You two go out for a walk—but don't go too far."

Pink apron?

Takeshi stared wide-eyed at Sakumo in full househusband mode.

So this was the legendary White Fang of Konoha?

Well... he really was a gentle man after all.

Lowering his head, Takeshi followed the unwilling Kakashi out of the house.

...

"Danzo-sama, may I ask what you called me here for?"

In the Root base, a hoarse voice echoed. Accompanied by slow footsteps, the pale-skinned Orochimaru emerged from the shadows.

Across from him, Danzo sat with his single eye half-closed, wearing his usual emotionless expression.

"I recall you have a certain technique... one that can determine if two people share a blood relationship?" Danzo's tone was cold and devoid of emotion.

But to Orochimaru, it was a rare surprise: this man who always dreamed of possessing both Wood Release and the Sharingan hadn't asked about his research progress in the very first sentence—for once!

Still, Orochimaru was Orochimaru. He quickly recovered from his surprise.

"Yes, that's correct, Danzo-sama."

Compared to studying Hashirama cells, this was a trivial task.

"I see..." Danzo slowly opened his eye and looked at Orochimaru, calculating silently.

Sure, his own researchers could probably do it too—but in terms of accuracy, they couldn't hold a candle to Orochimaru...

Still, he wasn't keen on letting Orochimaru know the truth behind this task.

Despite having mentally prepared himself, when it came time to actually speak the words, Danzo found himself hesitating again.

Orochimaru noticed Danzo's internal struggle. Curious, he didn't make up an excuse to leave early like usual, but instead waited with interest for Danzo to continue.

"I'll send two samples later. Check if there's a parent-child relationship."

After much inner conflict, Danzo finally decided to entrust the task to Orochimaru—accuracy took precedence.

But being cunning, Danzo didn't mention whose samples they were. He planned to decide how to handle things only after getting the results.

"I see. Understood. Then we'll meet at the usual place."

Orochimaru licked his lips with his tongue and agreed.

Once Orochimaru had left, Danzo immediately summoned a subordinate.

"Danzo-sama." A Root ninja wearing a mask and a black hooded cloak appeared instantly.

"Go. Find the child that Sakumo brought back. Get his sample. Send it along with mine to Orochimaru. Remember—absolute secrecy!" Even though he knew the subordinates were bound by cursed seals, Danzo still emphasized the need for confidentiality.

"Yes!" the ninja bowed respectfully and left.

After confirming the ninja was gone, Danzo tore off his composure and began pacing in agitation.

He... actually had a son?

He had never taken a wife. Becoming Hokage had always been his sole life goal... and now he had a son?

And such a small one, too?

Even though the child looked at him with fear, he was still his son.

Come to think of it, Hiruzen wasn't wrong. That kid did share some of his features from when he was young.

And that delicate, pretty face really did resemble that woman's...

No—that's a lie. He couldn't even remember what that woman looked like anymore. Back then, everything had spiraled out of his control.

But still, that was his son.

Even though the results weren't out yet, Danzo had already started thinking of Takeshi as his own.

How disgraceful. A man who had bathed in darkness, manipulated hearts, and stirred up the shinobi world—should've long since abandoned emotion. And yet, upon hearing he might have a son, he actually felt a faint stirring in his heart.

You've gone soft, Danzo.

"Gin!" Danzo suddenly stopped pacing and called out sharply.

"Danzo-sama." Another Root ninja appeared behind him, dressed similarly to the last, differing only in the mask pattern.

"The base is too dark. Later, go buy some candles. No—electric lights. Arrange to have lights installed. Make this place brighter." Danzo gave the order with a blank expression.

"Y-Yes." Though he paused for a moment, Gin still accepted the order.

"And prepare a large room. Get some daily necessities—for a child around four years old." Danzo added.

"Yes." Gin was even more puzzled now. But years of brainwashing had taught him never to question anything beyond the mission.