The wind was sharp that morning — crisp, cold, and merciless.
Like the man who stood beneath it.
Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha, stood atop the cliffs overlooking the Hidden Leaf Village. His white hair shimmered under the pale dawn, his tanto strapped across his back, humming faintly with the residue of lightning chakra.
He had returned from another mission — successful, by all military definitions. But success meant little when your own village whispered your name like a curse.
Down below, Konoha bustled — merchants shouting, children running, shinobi patrolling — but none of them looked up. None dared to. The White Fang was once hailed as a hero; now he was the man whose "failure" cost the Leaf an alliance.
And all because he had chosen to save his comrades… over the mission.
"Hatake-dono," came a voice behind him.
It was an old ANBU operative, mask cracked from age and loyalty. "The council… they've called for you again. Hokage-sama wishes to speak."
Sakumo's jaw tightened. "I see."
He descended the cliffs in silence, each step heavier than the last. His chakra flickered — calm, refined, yet turbulent beneath the surface.
Konoha didn't know. They couldn't.
That he had sensed something wrong on that mission — a second presence trailing their team, chakra laced with Root's killing intent.
He wasn't supposed to survive that mission.
But the mission wasn't the true betrayal — it was what followed.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, flanked by two advisors and a shadow lurking quietly behind the blinds — Danzo Shimura, the unblinking hawk of Konoha.
"Sakumo," Hiruzen said gravely. "You disobeyed a direct order. The council demands accountability."
"I saved my comrades," Sakumo said simply. "The mission's success means nothing if we become corpses on foreign soil."
Danzo's single visible eye glimmered. "A sentimental answer. Not befitting Konoha's elite. You've jeopardized the village's reputation — and its alliances."
"Reputation?" Sakumo's voice hardened. "Do you serve reputation, or the people of this village?"
The tension thickened. Even Hiruzen's pipe trembled slightly in his hand.
Danzo spoke again, lower this time, a whisper that barely hid the venom.
"You've always been… too merciful, White Fang. Mercy has no place in the shinobi world."
Sakumo's chakra surged — silver lightning crackling faintly around his hand. "If mercy has no place here, then perhaps Konoha has lost its soul."
He turned sharply and left the office.
Hiruzen exhaled a cloud of smoke, weary.
Danzo smiled beneath the shadow.
Everything was proceeding as planned.
That night, Sakumo returned home to find Kakashi asleep — tiny, peaceful, unaware.
He smiled faintly, brushing his son's hair aside. "You'll be stronger than me, someday. You'll carry what I could not."
The moonlight reflected on the Hatake clan crest — a fang carved into silver. Beneath it, deep in the Hatake compound, lay a sealed door few had entered in centuries.
He walked to it, unrolling an ancient scroll bound with wax and blood. His father's writing etched across it read:
"The soul of the Hatake never dies. It only sleeps until the storm calls it back."
Sakumo's eyes narrowed. He had heard of it — the Konkō no Nemuri — Soul's Slumber Technique. A forbidden Hatake art meant to preserve consciousness beyond death.
His gaze hardened.
"If the village wants me dead," he murmured, "then so be it. But I will not give them my truth."
The candle flickered out.
And in the shadows, the White Fang began his final plan.