Chapter 142: Time Travel
"...I am back."
Was that a dream?
Kakashi Hatake opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling and slowly pushed himself upright, rubbing his temples.
His bedroom was as simple as ever. Gray and white walls. A plain wooden table, a chair, a bookshelf. A tiny bonsai added a hint of green, and on the wall hung a single framed photograph from his Team Seven days.
In the frame, on the far right, a blond boy with whisker like marks glared angrily at the boy on the left, who wore a cold expression and pouted as he turned slightly away from the camera. Just out of the boys' line of sight, a girl with short, cherry blossom colored hair smiled softly at their bickering.
Kakashi himself stood at the back, offering the camera a wry smile, as if time had frozen at that exact moment.
He could not help but smile back at it.
His time with Team Seven was precious beyond words. From that chaos he had gained treasures he could never replace.
Naruto had already begun training under Jiraiya, swearing to bring Sasuke Uchiha home. Sakura Haruno had become the student of Tsunade, now the Fifth Hokage.
Everything, slowly, was returning to its rightful track.
News of Orochimaru and of the rogue Akatsuki organization still flowed in from the shadows. Maybe the mounting pressure was what had dragged such an absurd nightmare out of his subconscious.
Kakashi swung his legs off the bed.
The instant he tried to stand, the world lurched.
His body felt as if it had just been tumbled in a washing basin. He staggered two steps, barely caught himself on the wall, and stood there, disheveled and weak, fingers curling unconsciously.
It really feels the same.
The layout, the desperate enemy, the final choice. All of it was too similar.
But in that dream, his future self had never stepped in to help him fight. No invincible adult had appeared at the last moment to take over.
Obito had been dead for more than ten years. The war itself was long since over.
And still he clung to that childish illusion, as if he were some all powerful brat who could rewrite the ending, as if his friend might somehow survive.
Maybe he would never forget what happened back then.
He had killed the girl his friend loved most, right in front of him.
The three of them had been inseparable, always together, yet their story had ended like that.
Perhaps this nightmare was simply his punishment.
"Cough, cough..."
It seemed he had been pressing everything down for too long, until it finally boiled over into that dream.
Kakashi Hatake, Copy Ninja of Konoha, was very skilled at convincing himself.
If he had not been, he would never have recovered at all from the deaths of his teacher, his father, and his friends.
He coughed twice, waited for the hollow weakness in his body to settle, then reached into his flak vest, pulled out a small medicine bottle, and swallowed a bitter military ration pill.
Warmth spread through his limbs as his chakra slowly refilled. Only then did he let out a small sigh, shuffle to the bedroom door, and head downstairs.
"Some water..."
Covering his forehead with one hand, Kakashi took the worn steps carefully, making his way toward the refrigerator.
Life as a ninja was not as primitive or harsh as outsiders sometimes imagined.
The shinobi of Konoha Village lived in houses that had nearly everything a modern family might need. Clean clothes. Appliances. Simple but sturdy furniture. Shelves of books.
Kakashi lived alone, with no particular desire to marry, but unlike many bachelors he kept his home in order.
A spare, tidy room. A spotless staircase. A kitchen sized for one, well used but uncluttered.
This was the home of Kakashi Hatake, jonin of Konoha. Nothing grand. No symbols of rank. Just a place to live.
Outside, insects whispered in the dark, their steady chorus drifting through the walls.
Inside, Kakashi's mind was a jumble.
He padded down into the lit living room and turned toward the kitchen.
It was late. The village outside was quiet. His home should have been too.
As he passed the low table, he saw someone already sitting there.
A man in a white stand collar trench coat sat with his legs crossed, a newspaper open in his hands. He looked up and greeted him as casually as a house guest.
"Good evening, Kakashi kun. You look very tired. Did you have a nightmare?"
"Ah, something like that."
Kakashi opened the refrigerator, lifted a bottle of water to his lips, and answered absently.
"Maybe because Naruto has recently passed away," he murmured, "I dreamed that my younger self was facing Madara Uchiha, and then he called me out and said Obito was still alive, or something like that. Pretty strange, right..."
"I do not think it was a dream," the man replied mildly, "but something you truly experienced."
He took a sip of red tea, turned a page, and spoke as if offering a casual opinion on the weather.
"Due to time travel, the protective structure of the human brain and its cognition likely suffered a small degree of disruption. It is not an accident, but a very natural feedback."
The man in the white coat was gentle and elegant, brown eyes calm behind his glasses.
"Furthermore," he went on, "from a theoretical standpoint, a non Uchiha should not be able to awaken the Sharingan on his own. And a transplanted, ordinary Sharingan should not evolve independently either. Every Uchiha is essentially a living vessel and culture medium for their eyes. Once removed from that environment, the Sharingan's form should remain fixed. For it to continue evolving far away in another host is extremely rare. It is very worthy of research."
"Research, huh..."
"However," the man said, "my main focus is not the mystery of Obito's Sharingan, but the connections between worlds, between time and space themselves. It seems the gap between them may not be as vast as I once imagined."
He set the cup down and turned his gaze fully toward Kakashi. Kakashi's unfocused face reflected in his pupils.
He smiled.
"After all, my future self has already begun asking my past self for help to solve problems with my own research," he said. "I cannot simply watch the world stand still and pretend not to see it. Besides, I am very curious about where I came from, and what has happened to me."
"Eh..."
"Even if it were nothing more than a coincidence created by natural phenomena, we should still investigate why it occurred," he continued. "That would turn a passive state into an active one. If we had the opportunity to grasp how worlds function, both above and below the surface, and the logic that governs the relationships between them, would that not be a wonderful thing?"
"I see."
He spoke of brutal concepts in the mildest tone, like a teacher explaining a puzzle.
Kakashi watched him drink his red tea with such obvious enjoyment and nodded blankly, taking another gulp of his own cold water as if that could clear his thoughts.
The coolness slid down his throat, washed away the last of his drowsiness, and jolted his brain into motion.
Then, belatedly, something occurred to him.
"Wait a second," Kakashi said slowly. "This is my house. Huh? Am I still dreaming?"
The water in his mouth suddenly tasted far too real.
He stared at the man sitting so naturally at his table. Newspaper. Teacup. Chair. Everything about him fit into the room as if he had always belonged there.
Aizen Sousuke.
The man everyone in that other world feared and flinched from, who had appeared in their dreams like a phantom, who had thrown enemies into panic without lifting a hand, the man they were so desperate to rid themselves of that they would hurl him out of the world entirely,
was calmly sipping tea at his dining table.
"Hmm... Eh?!"
"Hmm? What is it, Kakashi kun? Did the nightmare continue?"
"Aah, no, but you..."
"Hahaha. I see. Still not fully awake, are you? For a ninja, that is a bit of a dereliction of duty."
Kakashi's body reacted before his mind finished catching up. His hand flashed to his pouch, and a kunai came free and leveled itself at Aizen.
The man only chuckled.
"That was not an illusion, nor a delusion," Aizen said calmly. "It was an undeniable reality that occurred in another universe. You were summoned to that world by your younger self, to fight the legendary Madara Uchiha. You returned here at the moment Kakashi released his Bankai."
"The problem," he continued, "is what happened after that. The Otsutsuki clan attacked. Using a secret treasure called the Plow, they attempted to imprison us and cast us into some unknown world. To me, it was inexplicable, yet also very appealing. Because if my judgment is correct, it was an opportunity prepared by my future self."
"Within this known world, the only thing that must be explored is the unknown. If that is true, then the unknown is that other world. I have already filled in the theoretical structure. It appears the Otsutsuki grasp technologies that touch the unknown, but they cannot observe parallel worlds. Only when a pseudo Bankai was involved did the structure distort. That means this opportunity exists only once. I suspect that is what my future self concluded when he reviewed the situation."
"To choose this world as a possibility, for no reason but to verify one's own existence."
Aizen smiled faintly.
"And surely the study of parallel worlds and other universes is the most fascinating research one could wish for."
He sat in Kakashi's chair in his white high necked coat, every line of his body radiating an effortless, inexplicable grace.
Even as he acknowledged the overwhelming danger this man represented, Kakashi could not silence the small, inappropriate thought that slipped across his mind.
This guy talks a lot.
I have not said anything yet, and he has already delivered a full lecture.
Seeing Kakashi's expression shift, Aizen's smile took on a hint of embarrassment.
"Ah, my apologies," he said sincerely. "It is a bad habit. When I am speaking with someone, I sometimes misjudge the timing and talk too much. Please forgive me."
"But there is no need to worry that I will harm you," he added. "As I said, I dislike combat. Fighting is a last resort, when communication fails to make up for what is lacking. I much prefer competition."
"At present, only you know my true identity in this world. Theoretically, among those who have actually crossed between worlds, only you and I exist in this universe."
"Experimenting on myself would be unacceptably risky, and you are a single, isolated individual. Subjecting you to destructive research would be utterly unacceptable. Therefore, you can relax."
"..."
I never said I was worried. At least let me get a word in.
Kakashi took another long sip of water and, deciding resistance was pointless, pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.
He rested his cheek on one hand and waited patiently for Aizen to finish.
When Aizen finally paused and brought his cup to his lips, Kakashi exhaled.
"I do not actually feel any hostility from you," he said.
"Oh? That is good to hear."
"People like you," Kakashi went on, "researchers, are really just people who have ideas when they see data. I have met people like that before. They are very... pure."
He chose his words with care.
The man in front of him looked more like an idol star than a scholar, but Kakashi could sense something familiar wrapped in all that elegance.
He had heard terms like Hueco Mundo, Bankai, and the strange plans of Madara Uchiha in that other world. He remembered the phrase Las Noches.
Whatever else Aizen was, he was at the center of all of it.
Just as he had trusted his younger self without question, Kakashi felt now that the answers he wanted were sitting right in front of him.
It was bizarre.
But his instincts told him that if he wanted to understand, this was where to start.
He looked directly at Aizen and spoke.
"Can you tell me what happened on your side?" he asked. "In return, I will tell you the differences between my situation and yours."
The newspaper on the table had already become nothing more than clutter. Kakashi reached out, plucked it out from under Aizen's hand, and tossed it into the trash can.
"Newspapers here are useless," he said. "To be honest, the only valuable parts of Konoha's papers are the serialized novels and the gossip pages. They would not even report something like the beginning of a shinobi world war."
"Is that so?" Aizen mused. "So the news principle in Konoha is to be factual and to pursue the truth. It seems there is quite a large difference between our worlds."
He did not comment on the newspaper being thrown away. If anything, it seemed to amuse him.
"So," he asked, "what is it you want to know? In exchange, I will require information that is verifiable and sufficiently accurate, something we can confirm here and now. Perhaps, maybe, and vague speculation will not carry this conversation very far. Do you agree?"
"I have no objection," Kakashi said.
"Then I will give you a brief outline," Aizen replied.
Seeing that Kakashi had no further conditions, the refined man lifted his cup again and began, tone slow and thoughtful, as if he were recounting someone else's memories.
"I was once a ninja of Konoha, a member of this village," he said. "Before I left, I served as an adviser to the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. At that time I was a Konoha elder, and an ally of Danzo Shimura, who later led an army known as the Army Without Borders."
"Objectively, the three of us, Elder Danzo, the Third Hokage Hiruzen, and myself, held the power of life and death over the entire village."
"However, as time passed, we came to see the limits of Konoha, and the internal crisis of the shinobi world as a whole. For the sake of true peace and further development, we chose to leave Konoha, and each founded our own power, Hueco Mundo and the Army Without Borders, Root."
"At the same time, because of the conclusions we reached, the Third Hokage chose to retire. He ceded power to the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, and assumed the position of captain of the First Division of the Gotei Thirteen."
"Hueco Mundo and the Army Without Borders became two major neutral forces. Konoha, Sunagakure, and Iwagakure formed a joint ninja village alliance, while Kumogakure and Kirigakure forged their own. The world settled into a three sided balance of power. No open war broke out, but there was considerable friction beneath the surface..."
"..."
As expected of someone from another world, Kakashi thought numbly.
He had barely asked for a quick summary and already felt like he needed a notebook.
His eyes grew wider and wider as Aizen continued, until his pupils trembled with the effort of keeping up.
At last he raised a hand, palm out, signaling a desperate need to pause and process the shock.
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