The Yellow Flash and The Village of Mokugakure

[Kakashi Hatake]

Kakashi heard the voices of his comrades fade to a dull murmur as he pushed his way into the dense foliage surrounding their little training grounds; no sooner had he broke the treeline than the voices were snuffed out entirely. If nothing else, the shinobi had to admit that the Tangled Green was quite aptly named.

Although the ANBU captain’s senses told him a myriad of different species skittered through the trees above his head and grasses beneath his feet, he found himself crouching at the banks of a bubbling river. The water was not very deep, bearing closer resemblance to a brook than a full-fledged waterway. Kakashi couldn’t be sure that the species of small mammal and reptile that he sensed were suitable fodder for he and his companions, and likewise the vegetation was somewhat suspect. Fish seemed to be a safe choice, being both confined to the waters before him (and therefore not needing to be tracked and snared) and unlikely to be venomous. With this realization, he set to work.

Some moments later he sat upon the bank, a jury-rigged net of a few lengths of his steel wire and a few handfuls of twigs set at a choke-point where the river ran the most narrow. His legs were crossed beneath him as he stared serenely into the calmly bubbling waters. Kakashi’s sharingan revealed to him the river’s secrets, the locations of the various marine life laid bare before him. Since being gifted with the magical eye in his youth, the silver-haired ninja had obtained remarkable powers of perception, among other useful skills. With its power, the scarecrow had escaped death a fair few times to be sure. In the Omniverse, though, its faculties seemed somehow different. Namely, his powers of perception seemed to be much stronger. 

Hiraishin no Jutsu, he thought. The Flying Raijin Technique. Named after the mythical thunder god, the skill allowed one to move with unparalleled speed, as if having the blessing of heaven itself. Kakashi had mimicked many jutsu throughout his life, but being able to replicate an S-ranked technique created and in turn perfected by two of the most prodigious Kage in recorded history was certainly not something he could boast as an accomplishment. That was, until today. Twice in the past twenty-four hours, Kakashi had managed to perform the feat as if it were any other garden variety jutsu. As he drew his fishing trap from the river and parceled its contents, his mind puzzled over the implications. Was his sharingan becoming stronger, or was this simply part of Omni’s gift of “gaining anything desired”? Perhaps both? Thoughts troubled him as he made his way back to camp.

---

Kakashi doused their fire as Kito and Minato lay themselves down upon their bedrolls. With the recent defeat of the Orcish Makhel clan, the silver-haired shinobi did not desire to take unnecessary risks, even on their remote mesa. Years of ANBU training taught him that the best course of action was to sleep in shifts to avoid ambush, though he had chosen to ignore this inclination. Both he and Minato were seasoned war veterans and thus slept quite light. Were they to be attacked, one or both would likely sense the assault before it could claim any lives. Having snuffed out the flames, he quickly laid out his bedding and drifted off to sleep.

KAKASHI!

He was running.

Dusk enveloped his surroundings as the man’s legs churned through a mad dash, limbs driving him forward despite pain and rigidity. Peripheral vision faded and blurred as his tired lungs heaved desperately for oxygen to supply his frantic body. A tide of adrenaline spurred his heart to beat a rapid rhythm, anxiety filling the pit of his stomach with a pool of lead. The sole factor keeping him from vomiting was the desperate pleading in his mind: Rin!

His bare feet left the earth as the forest became thicker, his calloused soles tearing as he kicked off from the barky flesh of the encroaching trees, though he felt nothing. He grabbed desperately with both raw hand and ragged foot to keep himself moving, the feeling of shredding flesh muffled by numbness. He could not stop; he was a man possessed. Sweat dripped from his clammy skin, the cool night air doing little to lessen the stress. The man’s body seemed to him to contain greater strength than he knew, as if enrobed by some benevolent being that spurred his otherwise weakened body forward. 

Perhaps he knew not his own strength.

The traveler's keen eyes caught sight of a clearing ahead, what little light remaining of the day peering back at him through the now sparse growth. Anxiety began to fall away as he reached his destination. He was here. She’d be safe now.

A familiar sound met his pallid ears, the cacophony of crying birds. Then, a scream.

Her scream.

All at once the frantic man vaulted forward, landing upon a high bough. Whip-like branches caught him across the face, opening up fresh cuts on his moist flesh. He ignored the pain as he peered desperately into the clearing, sharp eyes catching sight of the scene unfolding in the clearing.

She was there. Rin’s body hung limp, her expression hidden by the shoulder of another: A man whose fist was alight with cyan luminescence, arm clean through her torso.

He saw himself.

Thoughts raced as he brought inhumanly pale hands before his eyes, clamping down on handfuls of dark hair. Emotions reached a fever pitch as he threw his head back, calling out to the heavens in a voice not his own.

---

Kakashi’s eyes bolted open, right hand instantly shooting up to cover his left eye. The socket burned white-hot, as if pierced by searing blade. The air was knocked from his lungs as he rolled onto his side, body contorting in pain as the agony threatened to blind him. Seconds later, the pain vanished as quickly as it came. For several long moments the shinobi fought to calm his breathing, to keep himself from crying out. After what felt like an eternity, he fell uneasily back to sleep.