Kakashi needed to do some missions to distract his mind from his current situation. Just like when his sensei, teammates or father died, he wanted to escape the reality through missions.
To do that, he needed handlers—fixers who could connect him to clients willing to pay for his unique talents. It was simple. Missions don't find you. You find them.
Kakashi leaned against the window of his cramped apartment, the glass cool against his palm as he gazed at the neon-lit streets below.
Hell's Kitchen was alive with noise—car horns, shouted arguments, the occasional wail of a siren. It was a far cry from the serene forests of the Land of Fire, but it suited him. It was here where he lived and worked.
Cheap rent, close to work, and crawling with criminals. The neighborhood's reputation for crime was a double-edged sword: it drew attention away from a lone Japanese migrant, but it also meant danger lurked in every alley. Kakashi didn't mind. Danger was familiar, a language he spoke fluently.
His choice of Hell's Kitchen wasn't random. Beyond the practical—affordable housing and proximity to his job—the area was a melting pot of immigrants, faces from every corner of the globe living here.
No one questions a stranger here. But the real reason lay in the intel from his ninja hounds, particularly Pakkun, who had been sniffing out leads since their reunion.
The hounds had uncovered something intriguing: a group in Hell's Kitchen using chakra. Not much, barely genin-level, but it's there. The group, shrouded in secrecy, enhanced their physical abilities with this faint energy, unaware of jutsu or the deeper mechanics of chakra control. They're amateurs, but they know something.
Kakashi's mind churned. 'Are they a remnant of some ancient shinobi lineage of this world? Or did chakra manifest here independently?'
'The group operated in the shadows, their activities murky—smuggling, protection rackets, or worse, according to the hounds' reports. They could be handlers, offering me missions. Or they could be a threat.'
Either way, he needed to know more. Infiltrating their ranks or earning their trust could open doors to the city's underbelly, where mercenaries like him thrived.
'I'll start there.'
As a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf and a former ANBU operative, Kakashi was no stranger to morally gray missions.
Assassinations, espionage, sabotage—he'd done it all, his hands stained with blood for the sake of Konoha. A shinobi doesn't question orders or missions.
Emotions are a luxury. The mantra, drilled into him since childhood, had carried him through the darkest days—his father's suicide, Obito's death, Rin's blood on his hands.
Yet, even in the ANBU's shadows, Kakashi had a line: he wouldn't harm the innocent, wouldn't betray those he swore to protect.
'Lets see if this organisation is really suited for my needs. I'll take any mission, but I won't cross that line. In this world, that meant avoiding jobs that targeted the vulnerable. Criminals, corrupt officials, rival gangs—those are fair game.'
His apartment, sparsely furnished with a futon, a desk, and a stack of tech manuals, was his base of operations. While his shadow clone played Sukea at the grocery store, the real Kakashi studied, trained, and planned.
The technology of this world fascinated him, its potential both thrilling and daunting. Phones that span continents, databases vaster than any scroll, weapons that rival Tailed Beast Bombs. He'd learned enough to hack basic systems, but he needed more—how to build, how to counter.
He still had plenty of time with him.
Time he used to train his Mangekyō Sharingan. The eyes, once Obito's, were now his, integrated into his body in ways he still didn't fully understand.
Previously, the Sharingan had drained his chakra, a constant tax on his non-Uchiha body. Here, it was different. No strain, no blindness. Repeated use of the Mangekyō—Kamui's warping power—should have clouded his vision, yet his sight remained sharp.
'It's as if I'm Uchiha now.' He gave a wry smile as he thought about this.
Kakashi's hypothesis about this was bold and well hypothetical, 'When I crossed dimensions, I didn't have Obito's eyes implanted. The Sharingan had been sustained by the chakra Obito gifted him from the Pure Land, a final act of redemption. Somehow, that chakra merged with mine, rewriting my body. The vortex, the crack in reality itself, must have catalyzed it, fusing Obito's legacy into his very being. The Sharingan is mine now, permanent, without the cost.'
It was a theory, unproven but plausible, and it explained the seamless power he wielded.
The most intriguing change was access to Obito's version of Kamui: intangibility. In his world, Kakashi's Kamui sent objects—or himself—to a pocket dimension. Obito's allowed him to phase through attacks, his body slipping into that same dimension momentarily. It's like walking through walls, but trickier.
Training it was grueling, requiring precise chakra control to shift only parts of his body. He practiced in the apartment, phasing his arm through the wall, then his torso, but timing was everything.
'Too slow, and I'm hit. Too fast, and I waste chakra. Progress was slow,' but Kakashi was patient of nothing else.
Yet, for all his progress, a deeper struggle gnawed at him.
'What am I fighting for? In Konoha, his purpose was clear: protect the village, guide his students, honor the fallen. Here, he was alone, cut off from Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and the home he'd sworn to defend. No mission, no goal.'
This realization had forced Kakashi to confront his future. It was the reason Kakashi decided to do Mercenary work.
'If I can't go back, I need a purpose.'
Mercenary work was the obvious choice, a return to the life he knew. Shinobi work, just with a different name. He'd find handlers in Hell's Kitchen's underworld, starting with the chakra-using group.
They're his entry point. If they proved hostile, he'd neutralize them. If they were allies, he'd leverage their network. Either way, he'd carve a place in this world, mission by mission.
And it was time for him to confront this mysterious ninja group of this world.
'It will be interesting.' Kakashi thought
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Author Notes
I have given more explanation to why Kakashi chooses to do Mercenary work. He needed a purpose to live after all the lose he had faced. Poor Kakashi
Anyways, Enjoy