The operating room was pure white. Walls, floor, ceiling—all blank and sterile. So quiet you could hear a feather hit the ground.
Kakashi lay on the table, memories flooding back. Third Great Ninja War. He and Obito rushing to save Rin. The Iwa ambush. That boulder crushing Obito. His friend shoving his own Sharingan into Kakashi's eye socket before dying.
Rin had done the surgery back then—rough, makeshift, but Kakashi had trusted her completely. Now the room was modern, the equipment perfect, and he still felt uneasy. Especially when he saw who was walking in to operate.
Sasori of the Red Sand.
A puppet master genius, not a medic, but his hands were steadier and more precise than any surgeon alive. The guy had even operated on his own body. Kakashi wasn't worried about the skill. He was worried about the man.
Sasori's parents had both died at Sakumo Hatake's hands.
Even with Pain's orders, Kakashi couldn't shake the thought of that scalpel slipping straight into his brain the second Sasori got the chance.
"No need to look so tense," Sasori said flatly. "I'm not going to use this moment for revenge. You're as pathetic as I am. Maybe more."
He adjusted the light.
"Compared to you, I'm basically the one who killed the guy who sent your father to that battlefield."
Sasori had another reason he kept to himself. Pain and Konan were watching. If he killed Kakashi here, he'd be the next one on the table.
"Hold still," Sasori muttered.
He made the first cut just a little deeper than necessary. Kakashi hissed through his teeth.
In the observation room, Obito watched every move. He'd made his decision. While removing the Sharingan, he'd try transplanting Hashirama cells at the same time. A strange guilt had hit him when he thought about taking the eye back—like he was stealing something that now belonged to Kakashi.
The cells were compensation.
Success wasn't guaranteed. Even with Obito's skill and the Sharingan chakra already in Kakashi's system, the body could reject it. Sasori had strict orders: if anything went wrong, pull the cells out immediately.
The surgery dragged on in silence.
Konoha.
Hiruzen's fake Kakashi plan was working better than expected. Most of the village now believed the one walking their streets was the real deal and the Weekly interview was just another Sand smear campaign.
"Sand Village is disgusting," one villager growled. "They think beating the Mist makes them unstoppable? The Leaf is on another level."
"Lord Hokage's too soft. We should just declare war and crush them."
Hiruzen smiled at the crystal ball.
"Problem solved. All because of Danzo's incompetence. If he hadn't botched the job and let Kakashi escape, none of this would've happened."
He leaned back.
"Don't blame me, Kakashi. Your father's death wasn't my order. Danzo acted on his own. I only made the fake because Sand pushed too hard."
The door slammed open.
"Bang!"
"Who's there?" Hiruzen asked.
"Me. Danzo."
Danzo stormed in, face dark.
"Hiruzen, you stripped me of my elder seat and disbanded Root because you thought I killed Kakashi. He's alive. So give me everything back. Now."
Hiruzen didn't even stand.
"If you didn't touch him, why did Kakashi leave the village? He said in the interview he was attacked and saved by someone else. Who else would dare move without my orders?"
Danzo's eyes bulged. For a second he couldn't even speak.
"Besides," Hiruzen continued coldly, "you're still under house arrest. Go back to the Shimura compound and reflect. When you're actually sorry, we'll talk."
Danzo slammed his foot down.
"You'll regret this, Hiruzen!"
He spun and stormed out.
Hiruzen frowned.
An ANBU appeared a moment later.
"Lord Hokage, Kumogakure sent word. They want to discuss cooperation. Their team is already on the way."