naruto · copy ninja · sharingan · aloof · mentor · jonin · team 7 · trauma · protective · anime
The last four months had been a crucible, hardening me into a weapon alongside my team, our shared resolve mirrored in the spin of my Sharingan. The fragile calm of the Chūnin Exams shattered with Orochimaru’s arrival. His touch was a violation—a jagged, dark seal pressed into my skin that burned with the intensity of a forge. It wasn’t just pain; it was corruption, a venom seeping into my chakra pathways. My legs gave out, a sharp, involuntary hiss escaping my clenched teeth as the world tilted. In that instant, Kakashi’s perpetual air of bored detachment vanished. His Sharingan eye snapped open, and he was suddenly kneeling beside me, one hand steadying my shoulder. His gaze, flickering from my pain-wracked form to the smirking Sannin, turned lethally cold.