Chapter 9: Dispatch
Although the exterior of Aizen’s residence exuded an old world charm, his writing room was quietly equipped with electricity.
Sotis, late at night, he could be seen alone inside—writing in silence, whether from lancholy or sudden inspiration.
It had to be admitted: Aizen Sosuke was one of Konoha’s finest masters of calligraphy and painting. Even daimyos from other nations occasionally sent emissaries to purchase his works.
There was sothing inexplicable about his brushstrokes—an allure that drew people in, made them want to get closer… and then made them want to kneel.
Even Kakashi, who harbored an instinctive unease toward him, couldn’t deny that Aizen’s calligraphy was beautiful.
But tonight, the man sitting in the brightly lit writing room wasn’t Aizen.
From the doorway, the figure appeared to be a man in his twenties. He wore a Konoha forehead protector and a pure white haori, kneeling on the tatami with a numb, sorrowful expression.
The difference lay in the haori itself—embroidered on the back was the Uchiha clan’s crimson fan crest, alongside a large character: “六.”
In Konoha, no one dared to wear the Uchiha fan lightly. The clan’s reputation was fierce; their pride and temper legendary. To bear that symbol ant one belonged to power—and danger.
It was the first ti Kakashi had ever seen an Uchiha looking so defeated. He couldn’t help but stare a little longer.
Then, under the lamplight, he noticed sothing strange.
The man had no shadow.
“…Forget it,” Kakashi murmured to himself. “It’s Aizen’s business anyway. He’s an advisor now. It’s normal for him to have strange connections.”
Realizing this wasn’t sothing a six-year-old should involve himself in, Kakashi decided to leave quietly. He turned to head toward his room—
—but froze as the kneeling Uchiha suddenly trembled, sensing his presence.
The man’s head jerked up, eyes gleaming crimson.
Kakashi’s breath caught.
Sharingan.
The Uchiha’s gaze locked onto him—and then, from the silence, a familiar voice spoke.
“Ah, Kagami-kun.”
The tone was calm, low, and magnetic—filled with warmth that seed almost unnatural in the night air.
Aizen’s figure appeared in the room where monts ago there had been no one.
Wearing his usual haori and glasses, he moved to the inkstone, his posture graceful, his expression serene.
“I’m surprised to see you here at this hour,” Aizen said, his voice soft yet composed. “Was your previous place too dark for you?”
“…I want to fight for the village.”
The man—Uchiha Kagami—glanced briefly toward Kakashi’s direction before facing Aizen again. His expression remained numb, his voice heavy with sadness.
“The village is at a turning point. We’ve discussed it. We have to act—at least take the first step. The Third Shinobi World War is about to break out. We have to stop it.”
Aizen didn’t look up. His brush glided across the rice paper, forming the single word “war” in bold black ink.
“As far as I can rember,” he said quietly, “I’ve never stopped you.”
“Aizen,” Kagami said, his tone tense. “We don’t have much ti left. You understand what that ans for you, don’t you?”
“How could that be?” Aizen replied gently. “I’m quite satisfied with what I’ve accomplished. You already have the ability to stand on your own. The rest will happen naturally.”
He placed the brush down and looked at the character he had written. His voice carried a strange calm, persuasive yet chillingly detached.
“Besides, this war is rely the continuation of the last. Its purpose is the sa—to secure a better future. So tell , what reason do you have to prevent it?”
“Even if it’s futile,” Kagami said firmly, “we have to try.”
“Try what, exactly?”
“To bring peace to the world. To tell them this was just… a mistake.”
Aizen chuckled softly, his tone faintly mocking.
“Well then, Second Division Acting Captain Dan-kun, and Sixth Division Acting Captain Kagami-kun,” he said, emphasizing each title. “I’m sure the two of you are capable of handling things on your own.”
“If that’s all, then there’s no way to protect Konoha.”
“Protect Konoha?” Aizen repeated, sighing as he adjusted his glasses. “Just because you wish to?”
His voice grew quieter—gentle, but edged with conviction.
“Konoha doesn’t need the protection of one man. It needs unity—everyone working together. If victory requires a single person’s sacrifice rather than the combined strength of many, then the village’s entire purpose is lost.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“The First Hokage didn’t dream of a perfect world built on one person’s martyrdom. He built this village as a ho for those broken by war—a place sustained by everyone’s hands, not one individual’s.”
His eyes softened, though his tone remained firm.
“Kagami-kun, Konoha is a village, not a tool for personal salvation or self-validation. Do you not trust the judgnt and ability of the Third Hokage?”
Aizen’s words were persuasive, brimming with conviction and the essence of the Will of Fire.
Even Kakashi, listening quietly outside the door, found himself nodding unconsciously.
What Aizen said made sense.
If the Will of Fire was not fair—if it could not unite everyone—then Konoha was no different from the chaotic clans of the Warring States era.
Yet, despite the power of Aizen’s words, the Uchiha before him slowly shook his head.
His red eyes burned with sothing deeper than sorrow—sothing that could no longer be swayed.
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t believe it.”
Such a powerful answer even stunned Aizen.
Uchiha Kagami, still kneeling on the tatami, wore a calm and composed expression, as though he hadn’t just questioned the judgnt of the Third Hokage himself.
To the village, every Uchiha carried the potential for madness. Yet this “thorn” among them simply sat there, head bowed, speaking softly in a hoarse voice—like a man half-dreaming.
“What you said makes sense,” Kagami murmured, “but I’ve decided to go to the front lines. The mimicry process is nearly complete, and you’ll need the data, won’t you?”
“Then allow to repeat myself,” Aizen replied, his tone level. “I have never restricted your actions. I only advised restraint. If you insist on proceeding, I have no reason to stop you. I rely hope you make a rational choice.”
“So, you’re agreeing to it?”
“I never disagreed in the first place. I only offered a suggestion.”
Aizen pushed his glasses lightly, his smile as gentle and disarming as ever.
“I’ll just give you a reminder, then. Friendship and faith—those illusions—can be shattered easily by reality. If you choose to trust your old friends and lovers, the days ahead may be far more painful than you expect.”
Kagami lowered his gaze. “We do it willingly.”
“That’s good.”
Aizen nodded once.
And in the very next instant, the kneeling figure vanished before Kakashi’s eyes.
The movent was so sudden, so unnatural, that even Kakashi’s sharp senses failed to trace it. His instincts scread—his hair stood on end—and he spun around just in ti to et a pair of spinning crimson eyes.
Three tomoe whirled in the darkness.
Before he could think, Kakashi reflexively activated his Blut Vene, the faint blue light flashing across his body as he dropped into a guarded stance.
“What kind of body flicker is that?” he thought in shock. “Is there another Uchiha this powerful in the village?”
The man’s figure blurred—disappearing with a soft whoosh, only to reappear behind Kakashi.
Though Kakashi had intended to engage, his instincts scread caution. He gripped his kunai and short sword, preparing to counter.
But the man didn’t move to strike. Instead, that pale, almost lifeless face looked down at him with an expression too complicated to describe—part sorrow, part pity. It was as though he were looking at a child who had mistaken an illusion for truth.
“…Hatake Kakashi, is it?”
The voice was quiet, carrying a tone of lancholy far deeper than his years.
“The genius son of Hatake Sakumo…” Kagami murmured. “Next ti you spy on others, be more careful. Don’t let that man find out.”
“Huh? Aren’t you two in the sa group?” Kakashi asked bluntly.
“….”
For a mont, Kagami’s expression wavered between exasperation and grief.
“Things between adults,” he said at last, “can be simple—or very, very complicated. Aizen Sosuke isn’t like us. You’d do well to be cautious around him.”
“Oh, co now—you can’t just say that and expect to ignore it.”
The new voice ca from behind them.
At the doorway of the writing room stood Aizen, hands tucked calmly into his sleeves, that ever-present smile resting on his face.
“To attack in my own ho, and in front of no less—well,” he said lightly, “even a mild-mannered man like myself might be tempted to get angry.”
“If only you ever truly got angry, Aizen,” Kagami said dryly.
Aizen chuckled. “Is it really the ti to waste words? Dan-kun has been waiting at your eting point for over an hour.”
“…You’re right.”
Kagami gave Aizen one last long look. Then his figure blurred again—and vanished.
But this ti, Kakashi noticed sothing different. A split second before the disappearance, a black shadow ford at Kagami’s feet—like liquid ink—engulfing him completely.
Kakashi crouched down, studying the faint trace left on the floor.
Aizen walked over, his tone casual but his gaze sharp behind the lenses.
“Uchiha Kagami and Kato Dan,” he said. “Both are well known figures in Konoha. If you’re curious about them, ask around. You might discover sothing interesting, Kakashi-kun.”
Kakashi shrugged, brushing the dust off his hands. “Forget it. They’re your acquaintances anyway. I’m not that curious.”
“That’s a sha,” Aizen replied softly, smiling as he adjusted his glasses again. “Then the next step will be the research on the Blood Suit.”
Kakashi sighed, muttering, “The improvents are done. What’s next, huh?”
Aizen’s smile deepened, calm and knowing—as if every move, every word, had already been decided long ago.
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