The Power of Belief

The group started in surprise, turning their heads to look.

Under the moonlight, a handsome youth with short black hair and glasses stood there, watching them quietly, though no one knew when he had arrived.

It was Uchiha Ryūha.

He wore a high-collared robe with the Uchiha clan's fan crest embroidered on the back.

His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed.

"Who are you?" the tall student frowned. "From the Uchiha clan? Don't meddle in other people's business!"

Uchiha Ryūha did not answer, merely walking over slowly.

His footsteps were light.

Yet for some reason, as he drew closer, an invisible pressure quietly enveloped the area.

The few students instinctively took a step back.

Ryūha walked up to Kakashi and stopped.

He did not look at Kakashi, but instead stared calmly at the tall student.

"The words you just said," Uchiha Ryūha began, his voice soft yet clearly reaching everyone's ears, "do you have the guts to say them again?"

The tall student swallowed hard.

He recognized the other boy—the Uchiha genius who had been the talk of the Ninja Academy these past few days.

The monster who had awakened an unknown bloodline limit and defeated Uchiha Setsuna in a single move.

But the pride of an older student forced him to bite the bullet and snap back:

"I said, Hatake Sakumo is a piece of trash! Abandoning a mission to save a comrade and causing Konoha—"

His words came to an abrupt halt.

Because Ryūha had raised his hand.

There were no hand seals.

There wasn't even any chakra gathering.

He simply raised his right hand, palm facing the boy.

Under the moonlight, that hand looked fair and slender, appearing completely harmless.

But the tall student's throat felt as if it were being gripped by an invisible hand, and he couldn't utter another word.

Every hair on his body stood on end, his pupils suddenly contracting.

He "saw" it—

Not with his eyes, but with his senses.

Behind that fair palm, it was as if a towering demon god stood.

Crimson pupils looked down upon him, and cold killing intent pierced his marrow like a physical blade.

What... was that?

An illusion?

No, it was too real.

So real that he could feel his heart pounding frantically, his blood running backward, his limbs stiff and unable to move.

"I, I..." He opened his mouth, but could not produce a coherent sound.

The other four students also sensed that something was wrong.

They could not see the "phantom" behind Ryūha.

But they could feel the air suddenly turn thick and frigid, making it difficult to breathe.

Was that... killing intent?

No, it was something far more terrifying than killing intent.

It was a form of oppression from a higher dimension, a pressure on the level of the soul.

"Get lost."

Uchiha Ryūha spat out the word.

The voice was very soft.

But to the five students, it sounded like a thunderclap exploding in their minds.

Without even thinking, their bodies instinctively turned and scrambled away from the training ground, not daring to look back.

A few seconds later, the training ground returned to silence.

Only Ryūha remained, along with Kakashi, who stood where he was, breathing slightly.

Ryūha turned around and looked at Kakashi.

Moonlight spilled over Kakashi's silver hair, and for the first time, a different light flickered in those dead, hollow eyes.

There was astonishment, confusion, and a hint of gratitude.

"They're gone," Uchiha Ryūha said, his voice returning to its previous gentleness.

Kakashi stared at him for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice: "...Thank you."

"A small favor," Ryūha said, adjusting his glasses. "However, avoidance won't solve the problem."

They left today, but they will come back tomorrow, and the day after that.

As long as there is no definitive conclusion regarding your father's situation, this criticism will not cease.

Kakashi's body jolted, and he looked up sharply: "You—do you also think my father did something wrong?"

Ryūha did not answer directly.

He walked to the bench at the edge of the training ground and sat down, patting the spot beside him.

Kakashi hesitated for a moment, walked over, but did not sit, choosing to remain standing.

"Hatake Sakumo is a hero of Konoha," Ryūha said slowly.

"He has executed countless S-rank missions, saved countless comrades, bled for the village, and rendered great service.

A single failed mission is not enough to erase all his achievements."

Kakashi's eyes brightened for a moment, but then dimmed again: "But... everyone says..."

"Everyone?" Ryūha smiled, a cold smile. "Who is 'everyone'? Are they the people hiding in the safe rear, who have never stepped onto a battlefield?

Are they the people who enjoy peace while pointing fingers at the heroes who protect it?"

He looked at Kakashi: "Kakashi, why is your father called the 'White Fang' of Konoha?"

Kakashi was silent for a moment, then whispered: "Because his short blade... is like a white fang, making the enemy tremble with fear."

"Then," Ryūha asked, "would a hero who makes the enemy tremble with fear become a piece of trash just because of one failed mission?"

Kakashi was stunned.

"Public opinion is a blade; it can kill without a trace," Ryūha said, standing up and patting Kakashi on the shoulder.

"But your father is the one who wields the blade, not the one being pointed at by it.

If he could fight his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, he can walk out of these idle rumors."

"The question is," he paused, looking into Kakashi's eyes, "do you believe in him?"

Kakashi shuddered.

"I..." He opened his mouth, but did not know how to answer.

Do I believe in my father?

Of course I do.

But... if my father was right, why does everyone say he was wrong?

Why do even the comrades he saved blame him?

"When you can't figure things out, go ask the person involved," Ryūha said, turning to walk out of the training ground.

"Instead of worrying here alone, it would be better to ask your father yourself—why he made that choice, and whether he regrets it."

His voice drifted back on the wind:

"The loneliness of a hero often stems from being misunderstood.

And as his son, your understanding might be exactly what he needs most right now."

Kakashi stood where he was, watching Ryūha's retreating back, motionless for a long time.

The moonlight stretched his shadow long.

For the first time, a faint light ignited in those dead, silent eyes.

"Father..."

He murmured, clenching his fists.

In the shadows outside the training ground, the Anbu captain "Kagami," wearing a cat mask, watched this scene quietly.

The recording scroll in his hand was already filled with writing:

"Target made contact with Hatake Kakashi, suspected chance encounter.

Intervened to resolve the situation; words were manipulative, purpose unknown. Recommend continued observation."

Kagami put away the scroll, his figure merging into the darkness.

The night wind blew across the training ground, swirling a few fallen leaves.

The night in Konoha was as tranquil as ever.