Chapter 166 Looking back
Minato Namikaze never intended for those limiters to be permanent.
Kushina Uzumaki had designed them carefully, meant to seal Kakashi's power securely but also to be lifted just as gently as they were applied, to be removed like old gloves once Kakashi no longer needed them to control his deadly manifestations of grief.
But Kakashi had never really been able to control the power that had grown so dramatically in his pain, and by the time he had finally recovered enough to really try, Kushina was already dead.
So the limiter remained on him.
Kakashi doesn't need a lot of chakra to be deadly - even with the seal and the constant drain of Obito's Sharingan, he still has a lot of power and is very, very dangerous.
After Rin, Minato Namikaze, and Kushina Uzumaki, he didn't want to take any more risks.
The soft scroll of the ancient scripture was still there, as familiar as his own flesh and bones, embedded in his chakra circuits like an old friend.
They were a part of Kushina, still bearing her will; gentle and irresistible, like a loving embrace, strong enough to be suffocating.
It was those scrolls that had kept Kakashi going during the dark days after her death, and he took some solace in the thought that a part of her was still there, still protecting him, still shielding others from him.
To give up on that thought was like driving a thorn deep into the flesh of his heart.
But now there was something else within him; a force subtle and powerful enough to move mountains, to awaken dormant demons, to reclaim the devoured fragments of himself.
He could feel it, the power echoing and resonating, a strong and gentle force that continued to tug at his scarred heart, at the ancient strength buried beneath his endless sorrow.
He had never imagined before that these kids had such a powerful strength inside them, or that they could pull him back from the abyss so violently that he wasn't even sure who he was.
Parts of him that he thought were dead and buried were resurfacing at an alarming rate; strength and focus, drive and vulnerability, and a desire to do more, to be better.
This was a desire he had not felt since his childhood, since he first looked up at Minato Namikaze, saw his strength, his gentleness, and his unconditional love, and secretly vowed in his heart: I want to become as strong as him.
I want to be strong enough to love.
All his life he had been taught that love was fragile, that fragility was shameful, that to fall in love with something was to sign its death warrant.
But Minato's love only made him stronger, his gentle heart only made him a better leader and teacher, and Kakashi thought for a moment: Maybe...
Maybe, if I could be like him, if I could be as strong as he was, I could love something, something beyond my love for the village.
The departure of Minato Namikaze made Kakashi almost certain that such an idea was nothing but a childish fantasy, a fantasy of a child in sorrow.
Until now.
---
The Hatake family's warehouse was as black as asphalt.
The chakra lanterns on the wall seemed to have failed, leaving the entire space shrouded in thick shadows, as if these shadows were crawling out from somewhere deeper.
Dust particles floated in the stale air, catching the faint light that refracted down from the hall above.
A dull hum echoed through the space - too low even for his ears - causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.
Puck whimpered nervously as he twisted uncomfortably in Kakashi's arms.
"Boss, I think it's better for me to wait here."
Kakashi smiled down at it and raised an eyebrow.
"Afraid?"
"of course."
Kakashi's eyes softened.
"You know I wouldn't let anything hurt you."
Parker snorted.
"That's not the problem."
Kakashi paused, lost in thought.
"Do you want to wait with the kids?" he asked, his tone serious.
Parker growled in dissatisfaction and changed his answer.
"No. Someone has to go down there with you. But that doesn't mean I like it."
"Forehead……"
“But I have to do it.”
Kakashi chuckled.
"How stubborn."
"That's my strength," Parker barked dryly.
Kakashi nodded, took a deep breath, and walked in.
The darkness wrapped around him tightly, and there was some kind of energy in the air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The feeling of his bare feet on the thin lime made him feel like an intruder, and he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.
As he walked past, a chakra lamp suddenly flickered, and a dazzling light cast distorted shadows on the wall.
Puck jumped in shock and struggled even harder into Kakashi's arms.
The buzzing grew louder.
Just inside the door was a small table, carved from a single block of granite that had once been polished to a smooth, bright finish.
Its three legs are three intricately carved wolves, their heads held high as if howling in eternity, and each wolf has one of the three core values of the Hatake family proudly engraved on its chest.
Loyalty. Wildness. Spirit.
They supported a circular tabletop that Kakashi knew, beneath the dust, bore his family crest.
There were two objects on the table. One of them was what he had come for—a scroll, small, pure white, only as long as a hand, with a lock tab fastened along the seal.
There was a note on the label, the ink had faded with time, but even if it was hard to read in the dark, Kakashi could still remember the words.
---
When you're ready, dumbass.
love you,
Kusina
---
Kakashi had never met his biological mother; she died when he was born, but Kushina was more than a mother to him—a friend, a confidant, someone he could lean on when Minato was acting like an idiot or an argument with Obito left him bruised and broken.
She would cook for him, spar with him, make him laugh, help him with his equipment and mission reports, and clean his wounds when he came back from a mission.
Kakashi still missed her dearly, her red hair, her big smile, and her overly enthusiastic hugs.
He picked up the scroll with respectful fingers and tucked the note into his shirt, his eyes turning to the outline of the second object on the table, still visible in the dim light.
They were a pair of orange goggles, the dark blue straps had become gray due to dust, the lenses were covered with scratches, and there was an almost invisible crack in the upper left corner.
Kakashi's breath caught in his throat, heavy as lead, and the empty pain beneath his ribs throbbed like a gaping wound.
His hands came up almost involuntarily, pressing firmly over his covered eyes, over the gift Obito had given him.
