"Kenichi, you seem a bit distracted today."
Kakashi gave his friend a curious glance. Ryujin Kenichi's performance during their sparring had been noticeably off tonight.
Just yesterday, Kenichi had kept up with him move for move, but today, he hesitated, lost in thought more than once.
"Ah, sorry, sorry, Kakashi. I was just... thinking about something." Kenichi shook his head and offered a small, apologetic smile.
It was sincere enough to make Kakashi feel slightly awkward.
Kenichi wasn't the type to slack off without a reason.
As Kenichi looked at Kakashi, that same apologetic expression lingered. The truth was, today was significant—very significant.
Amid the calm days of peace that Konoha had enjoyed, a pivotal moment in its history was quietly unfolding.
Today was Kushina Uzumaki's due date.
Of course, a regular Chūnin like Kenichi shouldn't have known that. But his teacher—Orochimaru—had hinted at it. Whether it was intentional or not, Kenichi picked up on the clues.
"Naruto Uzumaki…" Kenichi murmured quietly. The very name carried weight.
This was the day Naruto Uzumaki would be born. The future Child of Prophecy, the one who would change the shinobi world.
Yes, in the distant future, there would be Boruto—his son, and a story that lacked the same fire—but for now, the world was about to start Naruto's journey.
Still, that was for the future.
Today, Kenichi had other matters to deal with.
"Kakashi, have a drink." Kenichi suddenly said, holding out a chilled bottle with a smile.
Kakashi accepted it without much thought. He'd been over to Kenichi's place many times recently, and Kenichi had a habit of drinking these flavored concoctions every night.
He took a swig without hesitation, the familiar taste washing over his tongue.
Outside, the sky was fading into dusk. Soon, Kakashi would have to head off for his shift with the ANBU.
His time off had only been granted because Minato-sensei—the Fourth Hokage—knew how close he and Kenichi had become over the past few months.
"Kenichi… sorry. I'll have to head out soon," Kakashi said, offering a rare smile.
"Ah, I figured. No worries, just finish your drink before you go," Kenichi replied with a relaxed grin.
Kakashi didn't question it. He downed the last of the drink in one go, then stood, gave a short wave, and turned to leave.
Kenichi followed him to the door, still smiling—until Kakashi turned his back.
Then, he struck.
A surge of Yang chakra, refined to its purest form, burst from Kenichi's palm and into Kakashi's back. The chakra control needed was on the level of high-level medical ninjutsu, like the Mystical Palm Technique.
Kakashi barely had time to react. His body stiffened, and dizziness overwhelmed him in an instant. Between the chakra overload and the anesthetic Kenichi had laced into the drink, Kakashi collapsed at the threshold of the house.
"Sorry, Kakashi," Kenichi murmured as he caught his unconscious friend.
This technique—the Mystical Palm Technique—was dangerous if misused. Overloading a person with pure Yang chakra could disrupt their nervous system and knock them out cold.
But Kenichi wasn't an ordinary medic.
He'd inherited the Sage Body from the First Hokage's genetic line—thanks to Orochimaru's experimentation. His Yang chakra reserves were massive and potent.
He dragged Kakashi inside and placed him gently onto a table.
"Honestly, if my research were further along, I wouldn't have to go this far," Kenichi muttered, looking at the glass container in his hand.
Floating inside was a three-tomoe Sharingan—an eye collected by Orochimaru during the Second Great Ninja War.
The legendary Sannin had several such "collections," and Kenichi had begged for weeks before Orochimaru finally agreed to give him one.
He needed it for what came next.
"Obito might notice... but that's fine," Kenichi said to himself, placing the eye carefully on a surgical tray beside Kakashi.
What he planned to do next could change everything.
Time was tight, and the task ahead was far from simple. There was no time for idle chatter.
Ryujin Kenichi, moving with clinical precision, retrieved a sterilized scalpel from his pouch. He leaned over the unconscious body of Hatake Kakashi, his single eye obscured by blood and dirt. Kenichi's gloved hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but anticipation. The Sharingan... a power he'd long desired.
With a practiced motion, he began the delicate procedure. Extracting the eye was risky—even with basic medical ninjutsu, there was always a chance of damage to the optic nerve. But Kenichi had trained under Root's medics, and Danzo's methods—though brutal—were effective.
He carefully removed Kakashi's transplanted Sharingan, the eye originally given to him by Obito Uchiha, and placed it into a preservation vial. Then, from a separate container, he drew out another Sharingan—this one intact and bearing three tomoe, freshly harvested from an unnamed Uchiha. He implanted it swiftly into Kakashi's now-vacant eye socket. A glow of chakra wrapped around his hands as he used basic medical ninjutsu to accelerate the integration. The process wasn't perfect, but it would hold—for now.
"Three tomoe… fully matured. Such beauty," Kenichi murmured as he examined the original Sharingan, now sealed in a special glass container. "The Mangekyō... could I force it to awaken somehow?" He smirked, already considering a dozen experiments.
Once the eye was in place, Kenichi wiped away the blood and laid Kakashi onto a nearby bed. The Copy Ninja would be unconscious for a while, but with his resilience, not for long.
Then the ground shook.
A deafening roar split the night. Kenichi turned toward the window just in time to see the monstrous figure looming over Konoha—the Nine-Tails, Kurama, had been released.
His lips curled into a fascinated grin. "So… the Fourth Hokage is fighting fate tonight."
Unless Hiruzen Sarutobi intervened—which was highly unlikely at his age and station—Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki's deaths were all but sealed. Not that Kenichi cared. What interested him more was the chakra—dense, unrefined, and demonic—leaking into the very air.
Dragging Kakashi along a back alley, Kenichi moved through the chaos. Screams echoed, shinobi darted across rooftops, and civilians stampeded through the streets. No one noticed a lone man in a bloodstained coat.
He ducked into the shadows, hoisting Kakashi against a wall, then letting him slide down. With a quick glance around, Kenichi swiped a mask from a merchant's abandoned stall and pulled it over his face.
He muttered to himself, "According to what I know, someone managed to extract a portion of the Nine-Tails' chakra that night… Maybe I can do the same."
Even non-jinchūriki had once wielded tailed beast chakra. The transformation of the chakra cloak intrigued him—an unstable but potent phenomenon. If he could gather even a fragment…
"Kenichi, where are you going?"
The voice was soft, serpentine, and unmistakably amused.
Kenichi froze. Slowly, he turned—and saw golden eyes glinting in the moonlight. Orochimaru, his mentor, stood at the end of the alley, his expression unreadable.
"Sensei…" Kenichi said, forcing a calm he didn't feel. "I thought you were… occupied."
Orochimaru smiled, that thin, knowing smile that always meant trouble. "I was. But I couldn't help noticing some… extracurricular activity."