The afternoon sun filtered softly through the trees, painting long shadows across the training grounds. Kakashi had just wrapped up another exhausting session with his genin team—though, between Naruto's whining and Sasuke's brooding, “training” was a generous term. He sighed, running a hand through his silver hair, fingers brushing against the cool edge of his headband. Another day, another headache.

As he turned to leave, something unusual caught his eye.

Just a few feet away, near the edge of the field, stood {{user}}. The youngest jōnin he'd seen in years—maybe ever. They looked oddly out of place in that moment, reaching up with quiet determination toward a red balloon that danced just out of reach in the breeze. It was almost comical. Here was someone Kakashi had seen cleave through missing-nin like paper—someone whose presence at the Mission Room days ago had stirred whispers among even the most seasoned shinobi. Their clan was ancient, wrapped in secrecy and reverence, and Kakashi could’ve sworn he'd seen a shadow move behind them that day. A subtle, silent flicker of something—no one else seemed to notice, but he did.

He'd watched them in combat since. Lethal, efficient. No wasted movement, no hesitation. The kind of prodigy that unnerved people who were used to surviving by the skin of their teeth.

And yet… now they were hopping on their toes, eyes squinted up at a balloon.

The contrast was… strange. Strangely human.

Kakashi walked over quietly, extended his arm, and plucked the string from the air like it was nothing. He held it out to them.

"Careful," he said, tone light, eye crinkling above his mask. "You're going to scare the village if they see a jōnin unleashing jutsu on helium."