Naruto: King of Hell

Santoryu, fully aware of Kakashi's likely next move, closed his right eye and focused all his senses through Observation Haki. He channeled it with full intensity, filtering out everything else. He was hunting for even the faintest tremor—any sign of underground movement.

He didn't have to wait long.

Subtle vibrations began to pulse beneath his feet—small at first, then growing steadily stronger. Kakashi was on the move, tunneling beneath the surface just as Santoryu had predicted. Santoryu stayed perfectly still, waiting with razor focus.

Then—just as the vibrations crept directly beneath him—he moved.

In one clean motion, Santoryu leapt into the air and reopened his right eye. A split second later, a hand burst from the ground where he had been standing—fingers outstretched, reaching to grab his leg.

It was Kakashi.

But instead of snaring his opponent, Kakashi's hand met a flash of steel.

Santoryu swung mid-air with surgical precision, and the edge of his blade sliced across Kakashi's palm, leaving a sharp, stinging cut. Kakashi recoiled immediately, his plan falling apart in an instant. He had hoped to pull Santoryu underground and end the fight with a clean ambush.

Instead, he took damage.

Grimacing from the pain and knowing the element of surprise was gone, Kakashi surged up from beneath the earth, abandoning the failed Double Suicide Decapitation Technique. His expression was no longer calm. The failed strike had rattled him—not just physically, but tactically.

He had underestimated just how precise Santoryu's sensory abilities had become.

Kakashi stood still, holding his injured right hand. A clean cut ran across his palm, a clear reminder of Santoryu's precision and awareness. He looked directly at his opponent, eyes steady but thoughtful.

"I won't say I've used everything in my arsenal," Kakashi admitted, his voice calm but honest. "But even if I had… I can't say with certainty that I'd win. That tells me everything I need to know. This fight served its purpose."

He exhaled quietly, then shifted his gaze toward the distance—toward the man who had been watching anxiously all along.

Raising his uninjured hand, Kakashi called out, "Uncle, you can come now."

Santoryu's father, tense with anticipation, began walking briskly toward them. Relief and concern fought for space on his face as he approached. His steps were quick, but his mind was racing faster.

Meanwhile, Santoryu began to power down. He calmly deactivated the Eight Inner Gates, his energy visibly settling as the surge of power receded. With practiced ease, he sheathed each of his three swords, one by one, until they rested securely on his body. The battle was over, and he moved like a warrior who had expected nothing less from himself.

By the time his father reached them, his eyes flicked between Kakashi's injured hand and his son's composed stance. His voice came out tight, laced with nervousness.

"Well?" he asked, barely hiding his anxiety. "How did my son perform? Can he… become a ninja?"

Kakashi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful but resolute.

"His Three Sword Style may be unconventional," he said, "but it's clear he's poured everything into mastering it. The technique is refined, disciplined—far from a gimmick. After facing him myself, I can say with confidence: he's honed it to a high level. His speed, strength, and instincts compensate for everything he lacks—whether it's the inability to use even basic ninjutsu or the blindness in his left eye."

There was no hesitation in his voice. It was a clear acknowledgment.

Santoryu's father gave a slow, deliberate nod. Pride lit up his features, and a quiet smile touched the corner of his mouth. Hearing this kind of validation from someone like Kakashi meant everything—it was proof that his son's dedication had borne real results.

But behind that pride, there was also a shadow.

He couldn't ignore what came next.

With Kakashi's approval, Santoryu would officially be allowed to become a ninja. That meant missions. Danger. The harsh, unpredictable life of a shinobi. It was the very future he and his wife had tried to protect their son from. And now, there was no more denying it.

He was proud, yes—but he was also afraid.

Still, as he looked at his son—calm, steady, and strong—he knew the decision was no longer his to make. The boy had become something more. And it was time for them, as parents, to harden their hearts and let him walk the path he had chosen.

Kakashi turned his attention back to Santoryu. "There's still plenty of time left in the day—it's only morning," he said. "I'll head to the Hokage's office around noon, or whenever he's available, and inform him about your situation. I'll also report on our duel."

He paused for a moment, then added, "But just so you're prepared—he might want to test you himself first, probably by having you spar with someone else."

Santoryu nodded respectfully. "Thank you Lord Kakashi."

Kakashi gave a small smile. "You don't have to call me 'Lord Kakashi' every time. Just Kakashi is fine."

Santoryu nodded again. "Understood, Kakashi."

There was a subtle relief in his tone. As someone who had transmigrated from another world, Santoryu had always felt awkward addressing someone younger than himself with such formal honorifics. But his father—coming from a branch family of the Hatake clan—had instilled in him a deep-rooted sense of respect for the main family. For that reason, Santoryu had always used terms like Young Lord or Lord Kakashi when speaking to him, out of consideration for his father's pride and tradition.

Now, with Kakashi himself lifting that formality, Santoryu felt freer to speak naturally—without guilt or conflict.

Santoryu's father made no objection to the change in address. After all, it was Kakashi himself who had invited the informality. Instead, with a respectful yet friendly tone, he spoke up from the side.

"Clan Head, why don't you come with us and have breakfast? It's already prepared at our home. I'll ask my wife to take a look at that cut on your hand and apply some ointment."

Kakashi gave a slight nod. "Alright. That sounds good."

With that, the tension of the battle behind them, the three turned and began walking together toward Santoryu's home. The morning sun was still climbing, and for now, there was peace.

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