Hakken's gaze lingered on Mikoto's round belly, a trace of emotion flickering in his eyes.
Sasuke Uchiha.
In the original story, he had always seemed like a particularly unpleasant character—
a boy who could speak of nothing but revenge, whose every action embodied the mindset of a true avenger.
There was a saying.
Madara Uchiha lacked trust, and so he walked the path of opposition against Hashirama Senju.
Itachi Uchiha lacked understanding, and so he bore the weight of infamy.
Obito Uchiha lacked love, and so he sought to overturn the world for Rin.
And Sasuke Uchiha—what he lacked was the harsh discipline life brings.
Hakken himself had once joked about that line, laughing as he repeated it.
But when he set aside that detached amusement and looked at Sasuke's life as an observer, he couldn't help but feel differently.
It hadn't been easy for him.
When Sasuke was a child, he was adorable—curious about everything, full of warmth toward those around him.
But Itachi's actions had destroyed all of that.
His love for life, his affection for his comrades—everything crumbled within that endless loop of Tsukuyomi.
Compared to Naruto, Sasuke had experienced the love of both parents and the care of an older brother.
That had been his happiness… and his misfortune.
Sometimes, to have something and then lose it hurts far more than never having had it at all.
Just like in love—singles might envy couples, but they could never understand the pain of a breakup.
It was the same kind of pain.
Sasuke's descent into madness for revenge wasn't just obsession—it was the only path left to him.
Hakken shook his head, then suddenly reached out toward Mikoto's belly.
Had anyone else done something like that, Fugaku would have stepped in immediately, his face full of suspicion.
But this time, he chose to trust.
He trusted his son's judgment—and the comrade who had once stood before his son to protect him.
The Uchiha weren't truly closed off; it was just rare for an outsider to reach their hearts.
A new life...
Feeling the faint spiritual pulse from within, Hakken blinked, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
The continuation of life was something worthy of reverence.
And women—mothers—were the most extraordinary of all.
It was almost impossible to imagine the pain Itachi must have endured when he raised his blade against his own mother.
Smack.
Retracting his hand, Hakken lightly tapped Itachi's cheek.
The young boy looked puzzled, clearly not understanding what that gentle slap meant.
"You must always honor your parents," Hakken said quietly.
The words left Itachi's face tinged with embarrassment.
Had Ken-san somehow realized he'd been so busy with missions lately that he hadn't spent much time with his parents?
"Thank you for your hospitality, Uncle."
"Tomorrow, Itachi and I will be leaving the village for a mission, so we'll be heading back now. As for Itachi's safety, please leave that to me."
Rising to his feet, Hakken clasped his hands respectfully toward Fugaku and Mikoto. He had eaten his fill, and the warmth of this family dinner had stirred something faint and unfamiliar within him.
"I'm counting on you, Hakken."
Fugaku nodded. As the clan head, he wasn't obligated to personally see off guests, so that task naturally fell to his son.
In the courtyard, Anko and Izumi were still admiring the cherry blossoms.
Anko, always the impatient one, knew her brother and the Uchiha clan leader might have important matters to discuss, so she had stepped outside early.
She was thoughtful—more than she used to be.
It seemed that after Orochimaru's departure and her experiences in ANBU, she had grown a great deal. That maturity was something Hakken admired.
When she noticed her brother approaching, Anko waved from afar, smiling brightly.
Beneath the cherry blossoms, the siblings stood close together as petals drifted down onto their shoulders. The scene stirred something in Itachi's heart—a quiet yearning.
Someday, he thought, he'd stand beneath the cherry blossoms with his own little brother, just like Ken-san was doing now. He'd tell him stories about the days they had fought side by side.
That image... it would be beautiful.
...
The next morning, several figures appeared outside Konoha's gates.
Hakken had always disliked emotional farewells before missions, so Anko was still sound asleep.
"This mission is going to be difficult. I don't need to tell you that," Kakashi said.
"I may have a bit more experience than you two, but before we move, I'll make sure to hear your opinions on how we proceed."
"Any questions?"
Kakashi was already a jōnin. After learning from the bitter lessons of his past, he had come to truly value his comrades.
It was rare to hear the cold, stoic Kakashi from ANBU speak words like these.
"Let's go."
The sky was just beginning to lighten, yet all three of them burned with quiet determination.
Each carried their own purpose as they set out toward the border of the Land of Lightning.
Through the dense forest, three figures darted swiftly among the trees.
But they hadn't gone far when a cold smile crossed Hakken's face. He turned to Kakashi. "You feel it?"
"Yeah. We're being followed. What's your move?"
Tracking and counter-tracking were common in a shinobi's life, but being tailed so soon after leaving the village was too strange.
That could only mean one thing—the pursuers were from Konoha.
"This is how we'll handle it."
Without another word, Hakken swung his blade.
A jet-black arc tore through the forest like a crescent moon of shadow. Several screams followed as masked figures emerged from behind them.
Getsuga Tenshō—A clean horizontal slash.
"The target is the blade. Don't bother taking prisoners," said the leader in a low, gravelly voice.
"The blade, huh?"
Hakken smirked. The moment he saw their masks, he already knew who they were.
To Itachi and Kakashi's shock, he suddenly tossed his sword toward the man.
Had he given up?
That wasn't like Ken-san at all.
Itachi frowned.
The masked ninja let out a cold laugh and reached out, grabbing the hilt.
He actually took it.
Hakken's lips curled in disdain. He raised his hand—and snapped his fingers.
Boom!
In the next instant, the man clutching the blade erupted into a cloud of blood, leaving nothing behind but a crimson mist.
A demon blade.
It truly lived up to its name.
"See? It says your blood…"
"…isn't tasty."
As the blade reappeared in his grasp, Hakken calmly wiped the blood from its edge. His pupils narrowed, sharp with focus.
Then, in a blur, his body moved.
"Come on," he growled. "Let's fight."
...
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