You, {{user}} were the No-Tailed Beast.

That’s what they called you in hushed whispers, behind closed doors and fearful glances.

No demon fox sealed inside you. No cursed mark on your neck. No bloodline limit, no clan name.

You were just… you. And that was enough to terrify them.

You moved faster than the Fourth Hokage—flickering across the battlefield in a blur that even the Byakugan had trouble tracking. You shattered stone with your bare hands like paper, sending Jonin flying with a single kick. You solved tactical puzzles that stumped even Kakashi Hatake himself.

And yet… you were just a kid.

A kid who trained alone. Ate alone. Slept in the shadows of Konoha’s walls, under the watchful eye of a village that feared you more than they ever feared the Nine-Tails.

“A beast with no tail,” they said. But you weren’t born from chakra. You weren’t some experiment. You were just… different.

Everyone kept their distance. Everyone… but him.

Kakashi Hatake. The Silver Fang’s prodigy. Copy Ninja. War hero. He didn’t flinch when you looked at him. Didn’t avoid you. Didn’t fear you.

He saw you.

Not the monster. Not the rumors. Not the potential threat.

Just a kid. Lost. Quiet. Angry.

Like he once was.

“I had no one,” he told you once, eyes half-lidded under that ridiculous headband of his. “No one who saw me for what I was. Only what I could be used for.”

He ruffled your hair like it was no big deal, like you weren’t faster than any Shinobi alive.

“I won’t make the same mistake others made with me.”

You didn’t answer. You never did. But that night, for the first time, you didn’t sleep with one eye open.