The final Dance of the Seedling Fern was Kimimaro's ultimate attack, fueled by squeezing the last drops of his life force and pushing his Shikotsumyaku to its limit.
At that moment, his body had already merged into the countless bone pillars. Every pillar shattered was a piece of his life fading away.
The drifting white bone dust in the air could well be called fragments of his body.
A killing strike born of life itself, his only way to prove his worth.
Even in his final seconds, he regretted that he could not do more.
He remembered that day.... A light at the mouth of the cave, suddenly blocked by a shadow. As he looked up, what first captured his attention were those pitch-black eyes with a depth approaching a bottomless scale.
Even backlit in shadow, he could clearly see the figure's pupils.
In that fleeting instant before his consciousness faded, Kimimaro saw another vision...
He was tugging Ye Zi by the hand, bringing him to the garden to admire the flowers he had tended so carefully. Yet even those blossoms could not compare to Ye Zi's smile.
"This… is all I can do."
In a silent cry, Kimimaro unleashed his self-shattering strike against Guy. Then his awareness sank into darkness.
To live only for another, was that sorrow? To give everything for one person, was it worth it?
That was Kimimaro's will.
As the bone pillars shattered, the swirling white dust was caught by the wind, spinning and reshaping into a vast bone flower in the sky.
A fleeting beauty, born from life itself, lasting only a few seconds.
The moment the bone flower bloomed was the same instant Ye Zi turned away, missing it.
He never knew that a small hand had reached out, trying to clutch his robe, but could not keep up with his speed.
If hearts could truly connect, then when Ye Zi glanced back and saw the drifting ash, perhaps he would have felt the depth of sorrow behind it.
For was his own life… not also lived for others?
Within the storm of bone pillars, Guy's fate was uncertain. The thunder of bone strikes and the drifting white ash forming a giant flower drew every eye.
Kakashi, locked in battle with Sakumo, couldn't help but glance toward Guy's direction.
That one glance nearly cost him his life.
"Focus."
Sakumo's White Fang shimmered with thunderous chakra. His blade swept in arcs, releasing invisible slashes toward Kakashi.
Kakashi tensed, fully focused, responding with his own invisible strikes.
The two waves of chakra-infused sword energy clashed in silence, the subtle snapping sound betraying the hidden killing intent beneath the stillness.
Same blade, same chakra nature.
Wordlessly, father and son fought with identical short swords, their duel like an echo of the countless sparring sessions they once shared.
Back then, Sakumo rarely spoke, while Kakashi silently searched for flaws in himself. It was this unconventional teaching that had forged the Kakashi of today.
The White Fang that had once terrified nations now shone twice over, two white lights clashing against each other.
But Sakumo, steeped in the way of the sword for decades, was more seasoned than Kakashi. Even though Edo Tensei had weakened him from his prime, after trading blows for a time, the balance shifted. From evenly matched, Sakumo now pressed the advantage.
His steady gaze fell on Kakashi's furrowed brow. The joy of seeing his son again was buried deep, hidden by a father's pride.
He didn't know how many years had passed since his death, but Kakashi's growth was undeniable. Even his swordsmanship had advanced greatly, which pleased him.
Yet, in their duel, Sakumo had also noticed the flaws in Kakashi's technique.
"Kakashi... you've grown."
With a single downward strike, Sakumo pressed Kakashi hard, a faint smile on his lips. In that moment, he felt a trace of gratitude toward Ye Zi.
Though he had died by Ye Zi's hand, and even in death had found no peace, he did not hate him.
From the day he became a shinobi, Sakumo knew that as his blade claimed more lives, his own end would come on the battlefield. He had long been prepared.
If not for this Edo Tensei, how else would he have been able to see Kakashi again, to witness his growth with his own eyes?
"But it's still not enough."
Kakashi gritted his teeth. Three minutes ago, he had begun falling behind, and since then, Sakumo's pressure had only grown.
But this was nothing new. In all their countless sparring sessions, he had always been suppressed. No matter how many times he lost, he never once tasted victory.
He was used to it. And yet, this was no sparring match.
Seeing his father again brought joy, but also fury.
The dead and the living should not share the same world.
When White Fang's blade blocked his, Kakashi knew: if he wanted to accomplish anything, he first had to surpass the towering wall of his father.
He could not lose. He had to win.
He forced his arm with reckless strength, knocking Sakumo's blade aside. But in that instant of overexertion, he left himself open.
Sakumo would not miss the chance. White Fang flashed like lightning, thrusting straight at Kakashi's heart.
Clang!
Barely, Kakashi deflected the strike. Then, instead of retreating, he lunged forward, closing the distance, crashing into his father's chest.
Sakumo sighed inwardly at his son's choice.
That flaw…
His wrist twisted. Switching to a reverse grip, he drove his blade toward Kakashi's temple.
"—!"
A stabbing pain lanced Kakashi's temple. Danger screamed in his mind. In a lightning-quick reaction, he raised his blade to intercept.
Clang!
Kakashi's short sword barely diverted White Fang, altering its course but not stopping it completely.
The blade scraped across his forehead protector with a sharp screech.
Following through, Sakumo delivered a kick, sending Kakashi flying.
As he tumbled away, his headband clattered to the ground, cleaved cleanly in half.
If not for that forehead protector, his temple would have been carved open.
"The Hidden Blade style passes to only one successor… but you still haven't found your own path."
Sakumo lunged forward, pursuing Kakashi before he could recover midair.
Hearing those words, Kakashi's eyes widened. He twisted in the air, barely managing to raise his blade.
A blinding arc of White Fang clashed against his sword.
The impact shrieked like thunder. Kakashi groaned, flung further through the air, slamming into the ground and rolling several times.
Dusty and battered, he forced himself up at once, but already Sakumo's blade was before him again, leaving no room to breathe.
"My own path…?"
Covered in dirt, breathing hard, Kakashi's eyes gleamed with a sharp, unyielding light.
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Currently on Chapter 625 - Crimson Eyes in the Clearing Dust