Inside his dimly lit house, Kakashi sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, encircled by intricate sealing formulas. Anyone knowledgeable in fūinjutsu would instantly recognize this as the Four Symbols Seal (Shishō Fūin), a powerful technique designed to contain chakra.
With his eyes closed, Kakashi remained deep in thought. Candles flickered all around him, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. The room exuded an almost oppressive atmosphere, heavy with anticipation.
Suddenly, Kakashi's lone uncovered eye snapped open—his normal dark eye and the scarlet Sharingan gleaming under the candlelight. He exhaled, murmuring to himself, "It's time. The preparations are complete. I have to seal the Sharingan… Forgive me, Obito."
With swift, practiced movements, Kakashi formed a series of hand seals before voicing the technique, "Four Symbols Seal!"
In an instant, a powerful force surged through his body, suppressing the foreign chakra within his Sharingan. A distinct sensation rippled through him as the chakra that had been continuously siphoned into his left eye was now being pulled back into his body, invigorating his reserves.
Twice his normal chakra… three times… four times! As the Four Symbols Seal fully took hold, completely locking away the Sharingan's abilities, Kakashi felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The mental strain that had plagued him since acquiring Obito's eye vanished. His body, no longer burdened by the Sharingan's relentless chakra drain, felt lighter, stronger.
His chakra reserves had skyrocketed—tenfold.
For the first time in years, Kakashi felt the true depth of his own chakra pool. A rush of exhilaration coursed through him. He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power surging within. "So this is what it feels like to have an abundance of chakra… This is the level I was meant to operate at."
He understood now just how much the Sharingan had cost him. Unlike the Uchiha, whose bodies were naturally attuned to the dōjutsu, his own chakra was devoured at an alarming rate. If an Uchiha spent one unit of chakra to use the Sharingan, Kakashi had been spending ten. And unlike them, he couldn't deactivate it.
He had spent years covering the eye with his forehead protector, not just to shield it from unnecessary exposure but to slightly reduce its passive drain. Yet even that had only been a temporary solution. Now, for the first time since receiving it, he was free from its constant demands.
With his chakra no longer shackled by the Sharingan, Kakashi realized that his potential had changed drastically. His reserves had expanded to the point that, if he continued to grow, he might even qualify to learn Sage Mode.
"The first condition for Sage Mode is a vast chakra pool," Kakashi mused, his eyes gleaming with newfound ambition. "That was always my greatest limitation… but now…"
Of course, he had no intention of abandoning the Sharingan forever. It was a powerful weapon—especially his Mangekyō Sharingan's Kamui, a space-time jutsu rivaling the abilities of the most fearsome shinobi. Yet, in its current state, it drained him far too quickly. He needed a way to mitigate that cost, to wield it without debilitating himself.
He pondered solutions. Bloodline integration? The natural fusion of his DNA with Uchiha blood had never happened in the original timeline, even after years of usage. That path was clearly ineffective.
Then, there were Senju cells—the cells of Hashirama Senju. A method that had been proven to enhance chakra reserves and longevity. Yet the thought of tampering with his body in such a way repulsed him. Moreover, if such an alteration were discovered, he could never remain in Konoha.
For now, the matter would have to wait.
Kakashi let out a slow breath, letting the tension drain from his body. He was in high spirits. He reached beside his bed, grasping his prized blade—the White Fang's legacy, the Chidori-enhanced Tantō, Raikiri. Stepping out into the moonlit courtyard, he began to practice.
Each slash carried newfound strength, his strikes sharper, swifter. His swordplay, once limited by his chakra constraints, now surged with fluidity and force. He could almost feel the air crackle around him as he executed each technique, his control over lightning chakra precise and devastating.
His muscles burned with exertion, sweat soaking his clothes, but Kakashi felt no exhaustion—only exhilaration.
With a final flourish, he activated his signature technique. "Chidori Blade!"
Electricity surged through the tantō, extending its length beyond five meters. The courtyard was bathed in blue light as the blade sizzled, crackling with lethal precision. The sound of a thousand chirping birds echoed in the night.
Kakashi observed the blade calmly. This was the power of the Hatake clan—his true inheritance, unburdened by the crutch of an inherited eye. At this moment, he was no longer "Copy Ninja Kakashi," the wielder of the borrowed Sharingan. He was Hatake Kakashi, son of the White Fang, a shinobi in his own right.
After a few more minutes, the lightning blade dissipated, leaving Kakashi breathing heavily. Despite his expanded reserves, such techniques still drained him quickly. He half-knelt on the ground, catching his breath, but his mind raced with excitement.
For too long, he had been known only as the wielder of the Sharingan, but no more. His analytical mind, his unparalleled battle instincts, his original talent—none of these required that crimson eye.
And one day, even if Uchiha Madara himself were to return, Kakashi was determined. He would stand his ground.
Tonight was the beginning of a new path—a silent yet defining moment that would alter the course of his future.
The night was calm, but the wheels of destiny had begun to turn.