After Chiyo left, the Hatake Clan's courtyard fell into a brief silence.
Kakashi stood beneath the eaves, his small hand clutching the hem of his father's clothes as he looked up at the man who had once been high-spirited but was now steeped in despondency.
He had never seen his father like this before.
Like a broken blade, its edge utterly gone.
"Dad..."
Kakashi spoke softly, his voice carrying a trace of unease.
Hatake Sakumo looked down at his son. The concern hidden in those dead fish eyes made his heart tremble.
He slowly crouched down, his rough palm resting on Kakashi's silver hair as he spoke quietly.
"Are you afraid?"
Kakashi shook his head and stared stubbornly at him.
"I'm not!"
Sakumo smiled, and a long-lost sharpness returned to his expression.
"Good."
He rose to his feet, his fingers lightly brushing White Fang. As Chakra flowed through it, the blade gleamed with a chilling cold light.
"Today, Dad will teach you something."
He pushed open the courtyard gate, and sunlight poured in, illuminating his upright figure.
"A true ninja is never crushed by rumors."
When Hatake Sakumo appeared on the street with Kakashi, the previously noisy crowd fell silent at once.
Those clamoring villagers and ninja now looked as though someone had seized their throats.
They stood frozen in place, even their breathing turning cautious.
Sakumo's gaze slowly swept across the crowd. His eyes were calm, yet they carried an invisible pressure.
He said nothing. He merely held Kakashi's hand and walked forward step by step.
The crowd automatically parted to make way.
Someone wanted to speak, but upon meeting those sharp eyes, the words reached their lips and were swallowed back down.
People farther away saw the scene.
"That's... Hatake Sakumo?"
A Chunin muttered softly.
"Wasn't he already..."