The Land of Fire's border, Kannabi Bridge.
It was raining hard.
Young Kakashi knelt in the mud, his left hand clamped tightly over his left eye.
Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped down, mingling with the rain.
Standing before him was a mysterious man in a black robe, wearing a one-eyed mask.
"Take this eye as a gift from me."
The masked man's voice was hoarse, laced with a twisted smile.
"Then take it with you... and watch closely as this world rots."
Kakashi raised his head.
In his only remaining eye were hatred carved into his bones and pain that seemed bottomless.
It wasn't only his left eye he had lost.
He had also lost... his last shred of faith in the word "comrade."
An underground facility somewhere.
Older now, Kakashi drove the Chidori in his hand through a young girl's chest.
Rin.
His former teammate, the person he had sworn to protect.
Blue lightning raged through her body, destroying every last trace of life.
She looked at Kakashi. There was no resentment in her eyes, only relief and a hint of... sadness.
"Kakashi... I'm sorry..."
She fell.
Kakashi stood motionless, the Chidori in his hand still shrieking.
His eyes were as hollow as empty sockets.
Beside them, a man wearing a spiral mask burst into crazed laughter.
"Look, Kakashi! This is the comrade you wanted to protect!
This is the truth of this rotten world!"
Obito.
Once his closest friend, now a madman bent on destroying everything.
In front of the Konoha Memorial Stone.
Kakashi was a Jonin now, wearing a mask, his silver hair stirring gently in the wind.
He stood before the monument without moving.
Many names were carved into the stone.
Rin.
Obito.
Namikaze Minato.
And... Hatake Sakumo.
He reached out and traced his father's name with his fingertips.
His touch was featherlight, as if afraid to wake something.
"Father..."
He spoke softly, his voice carried away by the wind.
"If you were still here... what would you do?"
No one answered.
The Memorial Stone stood in silence, like a gigantic tombstone, burying all the words that had never been spoken.
Many years later.
The Hokage Office.
The Sixth, Kakashi Hatake, sat behind his desk, working through mountains of paperwork.
He was old.
Gray streaked his silver hair, deep wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes, and his back had begun to stoop.
The office was spacious, but so empty it made his heart uneasy.
A picture hung on the wall. It showed Team Seven—Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke.
Their young faces brimmed with energy.
But the picture had been taken many years ago.
Naruto was away on a mission, Sakura was swamped with work at the hospital, and Sasuke... spent most of his time traveling and rarely returned to the village.
Kakashi set down his pen and rubbed his temples.
He looked out the window.
The lights of Konoha came on one by one. Cooking smoke curled into the air, and children's laughter drifted from afar.
It was a peaceful scene.
But he felt a loneliness that had seeped into his bones.
He had no family, no partner, not even a friend he could speak to from the heart.
His entire life had been marked by loss.
He had lost an eye, his teammates, his teacher, and his father.
And it had all begun...
That night, when his father ended his own life with the White Fang Short Blade.
From that moment on, the surname "Hatake" became synonymous with disgrace.
From that moment on, he learned to hide everything behind his mask, wrapping himself in coldness and rules.
Because his father had taught him one thing with his life: letting emotions rule you would destroy everything.
Kakashi closed his eyes.
For a long time.
When he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was weary calm.
He picked up the next document and returned to work.
As he had every day before.
As he would every day to come.
The illusion shattered.
Like a mirror breaking, the cruel scenes—Kakashi losing his left eye, Rin pierced by the Chidori,
Obito's manic laughter beneath his mask, the lonely silhouette before the Memorial Stone, the aged profile in the Hokage Office—all burst into shimmering fragments.
Then reality pieced itself back together.
The same dojo, the same extinguished oil lamp.
The moonlight remained unchanged.
Hatake Sakumo knelt on the floor, both hands braced against the boards, his whole body shaking violently.
Cold sweat soaked his clothes, and his bangs clung to his pale forehead.
He gasped for breath, like a drowning man who had finally surfaced, each breath weighing a thousand pounds.
The illusion's afterimages still lingered before his eyes.
His son's hollow eyes.
His friend's twisted smile.
The cold names carved into the Memorial Stone.
And... Kakashi Hatake, sitting alone in the Hokage Office, growing old without anyone by his side.
"No... It isn't real... It's not..."
He murmured to himself, but there was not the slightest conviction in his voice.
Because it had felt too real.
The bone-deep loneliness, the despair of being abandoned by the entire world.
The shackles he would carry all his life, never able to cast them off—they had felt so real that his heart still raced.
He could even "smell" the damp moss before the Memorial Stone, and "feel" the stiffness and soreness in the old Kakashi's knuckles as he rubbed his temples.
This wasn't an ordinary genjutsu.
It was... a glimpse of one corner of fate.
"This is the 'glory' you traded your life for."
Uchiha Ryūha's voice rang through the dojo, calm as if he were stating a fact.
Hatake Sakumo jerked his head up.
Beneath the moonlight, the Uchiha boy still stood where he had been.
He pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold glint.
"You died and brought it all to an end." Ryūha looked at him and spoke, each word deliberate.
"Yet you left the heaviest shackles to your beloved son, forcing him to bear them for the rest of his life."
"A father who couldn't even protect his own son..."
Ryūha paused. His voice was soft, yet it struck Sakumo's heart like a heavy hammer:
"...what glory could he possibly claim?"
Crash—
The last pillar holding him up crumbled.
Hatake Sakumo swayed, nearly collapsing.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
These hands had held blades, killed people, saved comrades, and been stained with countless lives.
He had once believed this was a shinobi's fate—to struggle between killing and protecting, then die in some forgotten corner.
Or, like now, to end his own life with a blade and preserve what little dignity he had left.
But now, someone was telling him:
Your death isn't dignity.
It's running away.
It's cowardice.
It's pressing all the weight you should have borne yourself onto the shoulders of a six-year-old child.
"I..."
Hatake Sakumo opened his mouth, but couldn't form a complete sound.
He looked at the White Fang Short Blade.
It still lay on the floor, its gleaming blade reflecting the moonlight as if mocking him.
Just moments ago, he had held it, ready to drive it into his chest.
Now, its edge looked like the fang of a venomous snake, radiating a nauseating chill.
"Ah—!!!"
A suppressed growl burst from Sakumo's throat.
He suddenly reached out, but instead of grabbing the blade, he swung his arm hard!
Smack!
He swept the White Fang Short Blade away, sending it crashing into the dojo wall.
With a sharp impact, the blade clattered to the floor.
It bounced twice on the boards, then came to rest.
Hatake Sakumo stared at the blade for a long time.
Then he slowly raised his head and looked at Ryūha.
His eyes were bloodshot, but beneath the red was something newly kindled.
It wasn't hope, nor fighting spirit, but a... heavy resolve.
"I..." he began, his voice hoarse, each word weighted with effort. "I won't die."
Uchiha Ryūha said nothing, only watched him quietly.
"At least..." Hatake Sakumo braced himself against the floor and struggled to his feet. "I won't die like this."
His legs were still weak, and his body still trembled, but his back was straight.
Like a blade finally pulled from the mud, rusted but still sharp.
"What's your name?"
"Uchiha Ryūha."
"Thank you."
Hatake Sakumo bent forward and bowed deeply to Uchiha Ryūha.
"Uchiha Ryūha... I'll remember that name."
He lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, but clear.
"You've saved more than just my life."
"You've saved Kakashi's future, too."
"I'll remember this kindness..." Sakumo straightened and met Ryūha's eyes, speaking each word slowly and firmly. "I, Hatake Sakumo, will never forget it."
The moment his words fell—
[S-Rank Worldline Alteration Mission: White Fang's Swan Song—Complete!] [Mission Rating: SSS (Perfect Reversal)] [Calculating mission rewards...] [Base Reward: +5,000 Karma Points] [Bonus Reward (Changing the fate of a key figure): +3,000 Karma Points] [Bonus Reward (Preventing the death of a Kage-level powerhouse): +2,000 Karma Points] [Special Achievement "Light of Redemption" unlocked: Received ×1 SSR Card Selection Ticket!] [Reiatsu cap increased by 50%] [Current: Fifth-Level Reiatsu (Vice-Captain level) Equivalent to the chakra of an elite Jonin.] [Current Karma Point total: 11,000 (Earned 700 Karma Points for being closely monitored by the Third Hokage and defeating Root members sent by Danzo)] [The Selection Ticket has been placed in your inventory and can be used at any time]
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