Unraveling the Knot, White Fang's Friendship

Land of Fire border, Kannabi Bridge.

The rain fell heavily.

Young Kakashi knelt in the mud, his left hand pressing firmly against his left eye.

Fresh blood seeped through his fingers, dripping down mixed with the rain.

Standing before him was a mysterious figure wearing a single-eyed mask and a black robe.

"Consider this eye a gift from me."

The masked man's voice was hoarse, carrying a twisted sense of amusement.

"And then, take it... and watch closely as this world rots away."

Kakashi looked up.

In his remaining right eye, there was bone-deep hatred and bottomless agony.

He had lost more than just his left eye.

He had also lost... his final shred of trust in the word "comrade."

An underground facility somewhere.

An older Kakashi stood as his Chidori pierced through a young girl's chest.

Rin.

His former teammate, the person he had sworn to protect.

Blue lightning rampaged within her, destroying every trace of life.

She looked at Kakashi, her eyes devoid of resentment, holding only relief and a hint of... sorrow.

"Kakashi... I'm sorry..."

She collapsed.

Kakashi stood frozen, the Chidori in his hand still hissing.

His eyes were as hollow as empty pits.

Beside him, the man in the spiral mask let out a maniacal laugh.

"Look, Kakashi! This is the comrade you wanted to protect!

This is the truth of this rotting world!"

Obito.

His former best friend, now a madman bent on destroying everything.

Before the Konoha Memorial Stone.

Kakashi was now a Jonin, wearing his mask, his silver hair fluttering slightly in the wind.

He stood before the stone, motionless.

Many names were carved upon it.

Rin.

Obito.

Namikaze Minato.

And... Hatake Sakumo.

He reached out, his fingertips tracing his father's name.

The movement was light, as if afraid of waking something up.

"Father..."

He whispered, his voice scattered by the wind.

"If you were still here... what would you do?"

No one answered.

Only the memorial stone stood in silence, like a massive tombstone, burying all the words that had been left unsaid.

Many years later.

Hokage Office.

The Sixth Hokage Hatake Kakashi sat behind his desk, processing a mountain of paperwork.

He had grown old.

His silver hair was streaked with gray, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deep, and his back was slightly hunched.

The Hokage Office was spacious, yet so empty it was unsettling.

A picture hung on the wall, depicting Team Seven—Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke.

Their young faces were full of vitality.

But that was a photograph from many years ago.

Now, Naruto was away on a mission, Sakura was swamped at the hospital, and Sasuke... he traveled abroad year-round, rarely returning to the village.

Kakashi set down his pen and rubbed his temples.

He looked out the window.

The lights of Konoha flickered on one by one, smoke curled from chimneys, and the laughter of children drifted from afar.

A very peaceful scene.

Yet, he felt a loneliness that seeped into his very marrow.

No family, no partner, not even a friend to whom he could speak his heart.

His entire life had been defined by loss.

Losing an eye, losing teammates, losing his teacher, losing his father.

And the origin of it all...

Was that night, when his father used the White Fang Short Blade to end his own life.

From then on, the surname "Hatake" became synonymous with shame.

From then on, he learned to hide everything behind a mask, wrapping himself in indifference and rules.

Because his father had taught him one thing with his life: letting emotions dictate your actions would destroy everything.

Kakashi closed his eyes.

For a long time.

When he opened them again, only a weary calm remained in his gaze.

He picked up the next document and continued to work.

Just like every day in the past.

Just like every day in the future.

The illusion shattered.

Like a broken mirror, those cruel images—Kakashi having lost his left eye, Rin pierced through by Chidori.

The crazed Obito beneath the mask, the lonely figure before the Memorial Stone, the aged profile in the Hokage Office—all exploded into flickering shards.

Then, reality pieced itself back together.

It was still the same dojo, still the same extinguished oil lamp.

The moonlight remained.

Hatake Sakumo knelt on the floor, his hands pressed against the wood, his entire body trembling violently.

Cold sweat soaked his clothes, and his bangs clung to his pale forehead.

He gasped for air like a drowning man who had finally surfaced, each breath as heavy as Thousand Jun.

Afterimages of the illusion still lingered before his eyes.

His son's hollow gaze.

His best friend's twisted smile.

The cold names on the Memorial Stone.

And... that Hatake Kakashi, sitting in the Hokage Office, growing old in solitude.

"No... it's not real... it's not..."

He muttered to himself, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Because it was too real.

That loneliness deep in the marrow, that despair of being abandoned by the entire world.

That shackle he carried for a lifetime, one he could never set down—it was so real it made his heart palpitate.

He could even "smell" the damp scent of moss before the Memorial Stone, could "feel" the stiffness and ache in the joints of elderly Kakashi's fingers as he rubbed his temples.

This was no ordinary genjutsu.

This was... a glimpse into a corner of fate.

"This is the 'honor' you traded your life for."

Uchiha Ryūha's voice echoed in the dojo, as calm as if he were stating a fact.

Hatake Sakumo snapped his head up.

Under the moonlight, that Uchiha youth remained standing where he was.

He pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light.

"If you die, everything ends," Uchiha Ryūha looked at him, saying each word clearly.

"Yet you leave the heaviest shackles to the son you love most, forcing him to carry them for a lifetime."

"A father who cannot even protect his own son..."

Uchiha Ryūha paused, his voice soft, yet it struck Hatake Sakumo's heart like a heavy hammer:

"...how can you speak of honor?"

BOOM—

The final pillar supporting him shattered.

Hatake Sakumo swayed, nearly collapsing.

He lowered his head, looking at his own hands.

These hands had gripped blades, killed men, saved comrades, and were stained with countless blood.

He had once believed that this was the fate of a ninja—struggling between slaughter and protection, only to die in some unknown corner.

Or, like now, using a blade to end his own life to preserve a final shred of dignity.

But now, someone was telling him:

Your death is not dignity.

It is escapism.

It is cowardice.

It is dumping the weight you should have borne yourself onto the shoulders of a six-year-old child.

"I..."

Hatake Sakumo opened his mouth, but could not utter a complete sound.

He looked toward the White Fang Short Blade.

The blade still lay on the ground, its bright edge reflecting the moonlight as if mocking him.

Just a moment ago, he had been holding it, ready to plunge it into his own chest.

Looking at it now, the blade's edge felt like the fangs of a viper, radiating a nauseating chill.

"AH—!!!"

A low growl, suppressed to the extreme, burst from Sakumo's throat.

He lunged out with his hand, not to grab the blade, but to strike it away with a fierce swing!

SNAP!

The White Fang Short Blade was swiped away, crashing against the wall of the dojo.

Accompanied by a crisp clatter, the short blade hit the floor.

The blade bounced twice on the floorboards before finally coming to a rest.

Hatake Sakumo stared at that blade for a long time.

Then, he slowly raised his head to look at Uchiha Ryūha.

His eyes were bloodshot, but beneath the redness, something had been reignited.

It was neither hope nor fighting spirit, but a kind of... heavy determination.

"I..." he began, his voice hoarse, but every word was enunciated with weight, "will not die."

Uchiha Ryūha did not speak, merely watching him quietly.

"At least..." Hatake Sakumo braced himself against the floor, struggling to stand up, "not like this."

His legs were still weak and his body was still trembling, but his spine was held straight.

He was like a blade finally pulled from the mud—rusted and worn, yet the edge remained.

"What is your name?"

"Uchiha Ryūha."

"Thank you."

Hatake Sakumo bent at the waist, bowing deeply to Uchiha Ryūha.

"Uchiha Ryūha... I have remembered this name."

He raised his head, his eyes rimmed with red, but his gaze was clear.

"What you have saved is not just my life."

"It is Kakashi's future."

"This debt of gratitude..." Hatake Sakumo straightened up, looking into Uchiha Ryūha's eyes, and said each word distinctly, "I, Hatake Sakumo, will remember it."

The moment the words fell—

[S-Rank Worldline Alteration Mission: White Fang's Swan Song—Completed!]

[Mission Rating: SSS (Perfect Reversal)]

[Calculating Mission Rewards...]

[Base Reward: Karma Points +5000]

[Bonus Reward (Altered the fate of a key figure): Karma Points +3000]

[Bonus Reward (Prevented the fall of a Kage-level powerhouse): Karma Points +2000]

[Special Achievement "Light of Redemption" unlocked: Obtained SSR-grade Specified Draw Ticket x1!]

[Reiatsu capacity increased by 50%]

[Current: Fifth-Class Reiatsu (Lieutenant level)
Equivalent to the Chakra of an elite Jonin.]

[Current Total Karma Points: 11000 (Gained 700 Karma Points from the Third Hokage's focused surveillance and crushing the Root members sent by Danzo)]

[Specified Draw Ticket has been stored in the inventory and can be used at any time]