The next morning, Oliver awoke to find a folded note slid beneath his door.
Training Field 13. Come alone. —Kakashi.
There was no mistaking the handwriting, or the subtle tone behind it—serious. No jokes, no doodles. Just the facts.
Oliver tucked the note into his pocket, grabbed a small notebook and a few pencils, and headed out.
Training Field 13
When Oliver arrived, Kakashi was already there, leaning against a tree and reading Make-Out Paradise. He didn't look up.
"You came. Good."
Oliver stepped closer. "What's this about?"
Kakashi closed the book and finally looked at him with his usual lopsided gaze. "You're at a crossroads, Oliver. You've stirred the waters of the village—more than you realize."
"You mean the manga?"
Kakashi nodded. "Yes. But not just that. The villagers like you. The kids admire you. And you're not even a Genin yet."
Oliver frowned. "Is that a problem?"
Kakashi straightened. "It is to some. Danzo has started making moves behind the scenes. Root has eyes on you."
Oliver's stomach twisted. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"Doesn't matter," Kakashi said simply. "You're different. You think differently. That alone is dangerous to some people."
There was a long silence. Birds chirped in the distance. Wind rustled the leaves.
"So what do I do?" Oliver finally asked.
Kakashi gave a rare serious look. "You keep creating. But you also start preparing."
He tossed Oliver a scroll. The seal on it was simple, but old.
"A gift. It belonged to my father. Inside, you'll find techniques most Chūnin don't see until they've proven themselves. But you've already done that in your own way."
Oliver held the scroll with reverence. "Why are you helping me?"
Kakashi turned, walking toward the edge of the woods. "Because the last time someone with ideas like yours tried to change things… no one helped him. And we lost him to the world."
Elsewhere — Beneath the Village
Danzo stood in front of a table where three masked Root operatives knelt.
"The boy continues to gain influence. He speaks softly, but his words carry weight. Children look up to him. Chūnin speak his name."
He paced slowly, cane tapping the stone floor.
"He has not sworn loyalty to Konoha. Not truly. Not yet."
One of the operatives spoke. "Shall we eliminate him?"
Danzo shook his head. "No. That would make him a martyr."
He looked up at a single candle on the wall, its flame flickering.
"No. We make him one of us."
Later That Night — Oliver's Apartment
Oliver sat by the window, scroll unrolled in front of him, eyes scanning the intricate chakra diagrams Kakashi had given him. His mind was split—part of him was excited to learn, to grow. But another part kept glancing at the shadows beyond the window, wondering if someone was watching.
He turned to his notebook and started sketching out the next chapter of Clarke Kent—a scene where the hero stands up against a powerful authority figure trying to silence his voice.
As his pencil moved across the page, he felt the weight of something bigger settling on his shoulders.
He wasn't just telling stories anymore.
He was shaping the future.