Kakashi felt a headache coming on. The two people standing before him were far too important—their roles in the grand scheme of things couldn't be overstated. There was absolutely no way he could let them go freely.
But given how urgent the situation was, he had no choice but to try everything he could to convince them to stay.
"I can return your weapons. I'll even let you walk away," Kakashi said, his sharp gaze locked onto Utakata. "But... the situation you're in right now is incredibly dangerous. Coming with us is the safest and wisest choice you can make."
Utakata, however, didn't hesitate. His refusal was swift and absolute.
"I won't take Hotaru with me—but I don't need your pity, and I don't believe in your so-called goodwill."
"Why!?" Hotaru was already too deep in the throes of love to pull herself out. She desperately wanted to follow Utakata, clinging to her devotion with every fiber of her being.
"Utakata-sama…" she said tearfully, her pitiful expression evoking sympathy from everyone who saw her. She looked at him, pleading with eyes full of hope and longing.
Utakata's heart stirred as he met her gaze. Of course he didn't want to leave her behind. But he had to think about what was best for her.
Despite how much her affection moved him, Utakata gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn away. He couldn't allow her to get dragged into this endless conflict and danger.
In his heart, he whispered: Hotaru, forgive me. I can't let you be hurt. This is the only thing I can do for you.
He did his best to bury any trace of emotion from his eyes, leaving only coldness and resolve.
"I taught you ninjutsu because I needed protection. That was all it was—a transaction. I was never truly your teacher, so you shouldn't expect anything more from me."
The moment those words left his mouth, Hotaru's face turned pale as a sheet. She couldn't accept it—this cruel truth tore at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably.
"Utakata-sama, how can you say that...? Were all your moments of kindness... just a lie?" Her voice cracked with despair, thick with grief.
Utakata clenched his jaw, pain and helplessness welling inside him. He couldn't let her fall any deeper.
"I was only using you. Now that I've gotten what I needed, you have no value to me anymore."
He turned his head away, unable to bear the sight of her shattered expression. He was afraid his resolve might falter.
Kakashi watched silently. He understood what was going on in Utakata's heart. So he changed his approach.
"Utakata, I get why you don't trust us," Kakashi said calmly. "But things are critical right now. Escaping Akatsuki alone is nearly impossible. We can protect you and Hotaru.
We're also working on ways to counter Akatsuki. If you choose to join us, we can fight them together. Even if you decide to leave afterward—we won't stop you."
As he spoke, Kakashi was making silent calculations. If it came to it, he might have no choice but to forcibly take Utakata. For the sake of the bigger picture, he was prepared for that.
The only reason he hadn't taken his own life yet was because his mission to protect Konoha remained unfinished.
Utakata fell silent. He couldn't deny that Kakashi was right—he couldn't stand against Akatsuki alone. And if there was still a chance to live... he didn't actually want to die.
But he couldn't let go of the resentment festering in his heart. His hatred for the Hidden Villages ran deep.
...
"Captain Kakashi, allow me to try."
As Utakata wrestled with his thoughts, a medic-nin from Kirigakure slowly stepped forward. His sudden presence put Utakata immediately on guard.
"You remember me, don't you, Utakata?" the man asked softly—yet the words struck Utakata like a hammer to the chest.
Utakata's eyes widened. He studied the man's face intently. There was something familiar—something he couldn't quite place.
His mind raced through memories, fragments of the past flashing by.
Then—like a bolt of lightning—the realization hit him. He knew this man.
It was his master's son.
The son of the very man Utakata had killed.
His expression twisted with shock, anger, and a trace of guilt. Emotions surged in a storm behind his eyes.
"I know what you're afraid of," the man said quietly. "You don't trust us. You don't trust the Five Great Nations. You're afraid you'll be imprisoned again. Aren't you?"
His tone was gentle, almost kind, as if he saw straight through all of Utakata's inner turmoil—and beyond the hatred between them.
"My father died by your hand. Right now, I want nothing more than to kill you. But both my duty as a shinobi and my father's final wish won't allow me to do that."
The man's voice trembled slightly. He was barely holding back the grief and fury.
"My father cared so much about you. He loved you more than I could bear. I was his son—but I was jealous of the affection he gave you."
Utakata snapped. His voice roared out, filled with pain and denial.
"Loved me? He just wanted the power of the Tailed Beast inside me!"
His heart was torn in two. He didn't want to admit his fault, but he also couldn't ignore the questions he'd been turning over for years.
Lies don't hurt. The truth does. Over the years, he'd sensed something wasn't right about what happened that day.
But he never had the courage to face it head-on.
The man sighed, seeing right through the cracks in Utakata's heart.
"It was a secret technique. The only way to extract the Tailed Beast safely. My father... didn't want you to suffer.
He went against Kirigakure's orders—risked everything—just to save you."
Utakata seized on the one hole in the man's story.
"Then why didn't he tell me? Why go about it like that? If that wasn't greed for the Tailed Beast's power, then what was it!?"
He still couldn't let go of the suspicion and distrust burning inside him.
The man's eyes were disturbingly calm—too calm. Like a still pond, emotionless and deep. His voice, though steady, carried a devastating truth.
"That secret technique required absolute speed. If the person receiving it so much as flinched or hesitated—the entire process would fail. And the backlash would kill the caster instantly.
My father knew this. So before he began, he wrote a letter. A final message, in case he died during the process.
In that letter, he begged me not to hold hatred toward you."
The man paused, a bitter smile playing at his lips—mocking, ironic.
"But what he never expected... was that it wouldn't be the secret technique that killed him.
He died because of your suspicion.
Not the jutsu.
You."
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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