So said the title "White Fang of the Leaf" was a hollow boast.
Others whispered that he hadn't failed, but had abandoned the mission midway just to preserve the lives of Shima Shirokumo and another Jonin.
The rumors intensified, and the label of "incompetent" was pressed onto his head like a heavy iron crown. Even the market vendors, who once greeted him with reverent smiles, now looked upon him with blatant disdain.
For the people of Konoha, it was acceptable for other Jonin to lose; they could even stomach a defeat for the White Fang himself against a Great Nation.
What they could not tolerate was losing to a group of "nobodies" from a minor village.
they felt Sakumo Hatake had humiliated the village. With that level of skill, how does he have the nerve to co back alive? He should have just died out there.
Those past achievents on the battlefield? Probably eighty percent exaggeration. Or maybe he just stole the credit from his fallen comrades?
How tragic for his teammates—dying for nothing while he took the glory. Their widows and orphans aren't treated as families of heroes; they have to scrape by on pittance pensions while he walks around a "legend."
Initially, Sakumo didn't pay the rumors much mind. He believed his conscience was clear.
He stayed behind closed doors, sitting in his ho and polishing the short blade that had been his constant companion for years. The steel was brilliant, reflecting his pale, weary face.
Three-year-old Kakashi peeked out from the inner room, looking at his father timidly. "Papa..."
Sakumo looked up, saw his son's innocent face, and forced a small smile as he ruffled the boy's hair. "It's nothing. Papa is just thinking."
Kakashi nodded and retreated back into the room. He didn't understand why his father, who was clearly a hero, was being insulted by everyone just because of one failure. But he knew, with a child's intuition, that his father was deeply unhappy.
A few days later, Hiruzen Sarutobi visited in person. Sakumo sat kneeling on the tatami, bowing his head in greeting. "Lord Hokage."
Hiruzen sat across from him, remaining silent for a long ti before speaking. "Sakumo, I believe in your character and your strength. The contributions you've made to Konoha are not fabrications."
Sakumo didn't look up; he simply listened in silence.
"However... you know the state of public opinion in the village. The war has just ended, and everyone is trying to recover.
We need stability. In tis like this, soone needs to step forward to calm the storm. I want you to temporarily resign from all your posts and stay out of the spotlight. Once the dust settles, I will restore you to your forr rank."
Sakumo offered no protest. He simply obeyed. "I follow your command, Lord Hokage."
Hiruzen looked at him, a flicker of complex emotion in his eyes. He wanted to say sothing else, but ultimately only sighed and left.
It was the "best" way to appease the public—the post-war accumulation of grief, anger, and hatred needed a lightning rod.
That night, Sakumo sat alone, the short blade laid out before him. His gaze was calm, as if he were contemplating a profound truth. Kakashi was asleep. The house was silent, save for the chirping of crickets outside.
He picked up the blade and wiped it gently. This sword had followed him for twenty years. It had crossed countless battlefields and claid the lives of countless enemies.
It had protected his comrades and guarded the village. He had always believed he was doing the right thing. But now, he wasn't sure.
Did those people die because of my choice? Did the survivors truly live because of it?
He didn't know. He only knew that he was tired. Very tired.
The short blade was slowly pressed against his abdon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then—with a sudden, forceful thrust—he drew it across.
Blood splattered onto the tatami, spreading slowly. The short blade fell to the side, its steel reflecting his final expression. It was calm, serene, and full of relief.
When the news broke, Konoha was rocked once again—Sakumo Hatake had committed suicide!
Those who had gossiped, mocked, and slandered him suddenly fell silent. They had only wanted to vent their frustrations; they hadn't actually wanted him dead.
But soon, a new narrative erged: To break under such little pressure... his heart was too fragile to be called a true powerhouse.
Abandoning his own child, abandoning the village... what a waste of Konoha's years of cultivation and the Hokage's high regard.
Three days later, Shima Shirokumo, dragging his stump of an arm, personally organized Sakumo's funeral. He stood in the mourning hall, watching the three-year-old boy kneeling before his father's portrait without a word.
"From this day forward, I take you as my disciple." Shima walked up to Kakashi and knelt on one knee to et his gaze.
"Your father was the greatest ninja I have ever known. He shouldn't have died like this. I couldn't save him, but I can look after you in his stead."
Kakashi looked up. There were no tears in his eyes, only a vast, echoing emptiness.
Shima felt a sharp pang in his heart. He gripped Kakashi's shoulders firmly. "I will teach you everything I know. Kenjutsu, ninjutsu, and the laws of survival. That blade your father left you—keep it close."
Kakashi looked down at the short blade in his arms—the last thing his father had left behind—and gripped it tightly.
In the depths of the Root headquarters, Danzo Shimura's face was grim. He had ticulously calculated this plot to suppress Sakumo's prestige and pave the way for his own subordinates, but he hadn't expected it to end in suicide.
Sakumo's death had caused the public sentint to flip; those who once cursed him were now cursing the people who had slandered him.
"Sakumo Hatake... to think you were even weaker than Hiruzen!" Danzo spat in disgust.
In the Hokage's office, Danzo kicked the door open. "Hiruzen! Kakashi Hatake is a genius fueled by rage; he is an unstable elent within the village.
Hand him over to Root. We will forge him into the sharpest blade Konoha has ever seen!"
"Enough, Danzo!" Hiruzen Sarutobi erupted in rare fury. "You are the one who manipulated the rumors that led to this. Kakashi is the child of a martyr. I will not allow you to reach out and destroy him too."
"Furthermore, Shima Shirokumo has committed his entire clan's resources to take him as a disciple. The matter is closed."
"Hiruzen, you are too soft! Do you not bear responsibility for Sakumo's death as well?"
Hiruzen snapped his head up, slamming his hands on the desk. "Danzo, enough! I am the Hokage!"
"Haha, so the truth stings?" Danzo sneered. "Hiruzen, you will regret this!" He slamd the door behind him.
Hiruzen stood alone by the window, gazing out at the Hokage Rock. The faces of the predecessors stared back at him, and his own was among them. But for a mont, he felt utterly unworthy of the seat.
anwhile, in the underground palace.
Naoto looked at the fresh report and tossed the intel aside. "To think... in the end, he still died at the hands of a few rumors."
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