Chapter 4: End of Konoha's White Fang?

𝘋𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘋𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘋𝘪𝘯𝘨

"Hah… hah… As expected, I still can't find a single opening, even with you going easy on me," Hikaru smiled bitterly at his sparring partner.

Sakumo simply shook his head in response. "If you could find a single opening of mine after such a short training period, then I would be a true disgrace."

It had been four months since the White Fang had first agreed to train Hikaru. Although he had been unable to find a single opening in his teacher, the young Uchiha had taken to the lessons rather well. Moreover, practicing in every spare moment he had, meant that he could progress his actual instruction a lot faster and improve more than he ordinarily would.

His foundation was solid, his physical fitness had improved leaps and bounds, and his swordplay was adequate. Most importantly, he had learned several sword techniques from Sakumo, even though, for the time being, he couldn't use them due to his too-low chakra reserves.

As for Sakumo, he was noticeably more lively than he was previously. While most would consider that a great thing, Hikaru did not. For the young Uchiha, it was a real problem that the severity of Sakumo's mental state had lessened so considerably.

𝘜𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮? 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯-𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘳… 𝘕𝘰, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦.

Pushing past his last-minute second thoughts, Hikaru formed a grateful smile on his face, bowed his head, and thanked Sakumo for the lesson.

"Same time tomorrow, sir?"

"If that's what you want," the man replied as he waved his hand and disappeared using the Body Flicker Jutsu.

Using the time spent walking home to hone his plans finely, he took longer than usual to make it to his house. He had already made the necessary preparations before leaving but still had to ensure he said the right words and made the correct facial expressions. At this point, he was a fine actor, but he could never let his guard down when trying to deceive a shinobi like his mother, even if she had massive blinders regarding her young son.

"Mom, dad, I'm home!" He shouted, placing his sandals in their designated area and walking towards the dining room.

Typically, his arrival would be met with joyful shouts in return, but this day was different. Both his parents were seated at the dining table with severe expressions on their faces, looking directly at him as he entered the room.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴? 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴.

"Sit down, Hikaru. We need to have a talk."

Taking a moment to glance between the two, the boy then stammered out a reply to his father, "Y-yes, father."

After seating himself across from both of his parents, he asked them what the issue was.

"Karu…" Taking a breath, Ahma collected herself and started again, "You love the village, right?"

"Of course!" Hikaru nodded with such fervor that he almost believed it himself. Almost.

Examining Hikaru's face, Ahma's tight facial features softened ever so slightly. "You also understand the importance of rules, right?"

"Yes, rules are what hold everything together; you say that all the time."

Taking a second to form the right words, she settled on simply being direct. "Karu, that Sakumo Hatake is not a good man."

Seemingly shocked at her sudden mention of his mentor, Hikaru's mouth was agape.

"B-but, he's the legendary White Fang!"

Ahma gritted her teeth, "No, no, he is not." She once admired Sakumo greatly, so it was all the more difficult for her to accept that such a person could be a near-traitor.

Confused, their son stared at his mother as if she was crazy.

"What your mother means to say, is that Sakumo Hatake is no longer that great man once known far and wide as the White Fang of Konoha. Anything he once was, he is no longer. The White Fang could not, would not have broken the rules that every shinobi must follow, and failed such an important mission. The White Fang is dead. Sakumo the traitor remains."

Speaking for the first time, Sora made his own views on the matter quite clear. His father's strict adherence to the rules and extremely low opinion of Sakumo came as quite a shock to Hikaru, as he had never seen this side of him before. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴...

"B-but, he was just doing what he thought was right."

Ahma spoke once more. "And in doing so, he hurt the village that he swore allegiance to and claimed to love greatly. Because of his actions, because he childishly wanted to save several comrades of his, he killed hundreds more of Konoha's loyal shinobi. Does a person who serves and loves their village do such a thing?"

Hanging his head low, Hikaru mumbled in response, "No…."

"We know you've been training under him for the past several months, and while I am very disappointed that you kept this from us, most of all, we're just worried about you. We don't want you to get some silly ideas in your head and hurt Konoha. Most of all, we don't want you to end up like Sakumo Hatake, a disgraced and broken man." For the first time since she started speaking, Ahma's voice was soft and gentle.

Sora smiled at his wife and clasped a hand over hers on top of the table. "You're a smart boy. We hope you can understand why we can't allow you to keep training under that man."

"I understand…"

"If it's a matter of needing a good teacher, there is more than one fine swordsman within the clan that would happily instruct you if I asked."

Hikaru just mutely nodded.

Ahma and Sora shared a look; it seemed that things were worse than they thought. Their son had apparently gotten quite close to that man.

"I think it's best if… I speak to Sakumo Hatake to make sure he understands."

"No, mom, I…." Lifting his head, his eyes quivered yet glinted with determination, "Can I tell him myself first? You always say a man should take responsibility for his issues. Wouldn't it be cowardly of me to not even tell teach- I mean Sakumo?"

Clicking her tongue at his instinctive use of such a respectful title for Sakumo, Ahma felt conflicted. On the one hand, she couldn't bear the thought of her son being poisoned any further, but on the other hand, it was exactly as he said.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥? Not only would he lose faith in her as a guiding hand in his life, but he would also not comprehend the importance of taking responsibility for his own affairs, instead relying on his mother to do so.

Begrudgingly, she accepted. "Fine. But, I won't wait very long for you to say your goodbyes."

"Thank you!" Grateful for his mother's permission, he then fell into a moment of reflection, "How did… you find out?"

"Silly boy, you should know you can't keep things from this here, mother of yours! I'm a lieutenant in the Military Police Force now, ya know?!" She exclaimed proudly, trying to lighten the mood.

Rolling his eyes, Sora pulled out a note from his pocket, "What your mother means to say is that she found this loose page of yours lying around and was too nosy to leave it alone."

Scowling at her husband for ruining her attempt to show off, she continued off where he stopped. "You don't have to worry about buying a gift for that man anymore, right?"

"Right." Though he looked slightly conflicted, he still agreed with his mother.

"Good boy. When are you next going to see him?"

"I… already made plans to go tomorrow."

"Then I will make sure someone covers my shift. Now, let's eat, shall we?"

The following day, Hikaru appeared at the training ground before his teacher. However, he did not immediately pull out his tanto and begin doing warmups as he usually did.

Immediately sensing the change in his student, Sakumo quirked an eyebrow, "Is there something wrong?"

Averting his gaze, the boy slowly began to speak. "I can't be trained by you anymore."

Sakumo froze for a second, then spoke with an indifferent, bordering on lifeless tone, "I see…."

At this point, he should be used to it, should stop expecting things to be different. But, however tiny the spark of hope that began to burn within him was, it still burned; now, it was just as effortlessly snuffed out as a candle in the wind.

"I-I carved a gift for you," the boy took a piece of wood as large as his face out of his bag. "But I know now that I was just being foolish, that I shouldn't give such gifts to a person like you…." Smiling bitterly, he shook his head as he dropped the gift onto the ground, letting it fall into the mud. Then, turning around to leave, he took one last glance at the man, a glance filled with such disdain that the White Fang almost fell to his knees when he saw it.

Brimming with self-loathing and anguish as he stood still with a blank expression on his face, he didn't notice the appearance of another person until she was right in front of him and glaring at him with enough killing intent that it was a miracle she hadn't already stabbed him.

Although he heard every single word venomously thrown at him, many of which hurt and only made him feel darker and darker, his eyes never moved from a spot on the ground. Over time, the emptiness inside him gnawed away at him, growing and growing until he felt nothing but hollowness like he was missing a piece of himself.

A cold void that originated where his heart was and slowly spread throughout his body, sucking away every emotion, all of his self-loathing and pain, all gone and replaced with an aching coldness that emanated desire. The desire to feel anything at all. He would do anything to escape the clutches of this cold void.

Even the overwhelming pain that came with his feelings of loss and self-hatred was preferable to this. His hands itched, wanting to reach toward his tanto. It was like a craving; he felt as if he was in a trance as he thought how sweet it would be to feel, to spill his own blood, hot to the air, a rush of adrenaline and hormones coursing through him. Surely that would chase away this void that plagued him; surely that would bring him back to life, even if ever so briefly; surely that would be the sweet release that he needed more than anything.

After a while, that woman stomped off, seemingly frustrated by his lack of responsiveness. He continued to just stand there, wondering what the point of holding on was. Why should he continue to suffer this? It never seemed to end.

Then some of the woman's words came back to him: "Just you being near my son is like a poison! You poison his mind with your traitorous ideals and you poison his reputation and any chance he has of a future by association!"

𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦? He was reviled by everyone in the village. He couldn't step outside his house without receiving scornful looks and hateful words, but what hurt the most was that those were nothing compared to the gazes and words he received from the very same comrades he had sacrificed that one mission to save. Was he really ruining his son's future by just being his father?

Crouching down, he picked up the gift his former disciple had handmade for him. It was a carving of the Hokage Rock; all three Hokage of Konoha had their likeness carved on the mountain. Yet, there was a new addition to this piece of wood; right after the Third Hokage was the smiling face of a man that looked exactly like the one holding the carved wood.

As if looking into a mirror, Sakumo stared at the miniature copy of his face, trying to divine some truth from it. For an hour, he stood there, trying to find the answer to his questions, to his emptiness in this child's interpretation of who he was. But, in the end, he found nothing. That wasn't really him on the Hokage Rock; it was a child's imagination of someone that looked like him, nothing more. And yet, even that fake version of him that this child so adored was now dead as well, just like the old him; the boy knew the real him now. Suddenly, that glance of pure disdain flashed through his mind again. Truthfully, that expression of his former student had replayed in his mind more than once over the past hour.

Holding it for so long, he naturally noticed the grooves carved into the back of the wood. Then, turning the piece of wood over, he saw the words his student had painstakingly carved just for him.

It read: "It's never easy to do the right thing. Yet, you did what you thought was right, sir. A man should take responsibility for his actions, that is also the right thing to do. That is why to me, you are just as great as any of the Hokage!"

Naturally, all those words of praise meant nothing now. The person who carved them no longer believed them. Sakumo, as great as any Hokage? It was a ridiculous notion.

"What I thought was right…." Sakumo muttered these words, pondering on them deeply. "A man should take responsibility for his actions…."

Taking his eyes away from the gift, he walked a short distance, now overlooking the great tree that was Konoha. The legacy of the First Hokage. His home.

𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺… 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘒𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘩𝘢...

Sighing, he turned his gaze upwards towards the rolling thunderclouds.

𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮… 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦…

Raindrops began to fall, splashing against his silver hair first, then running down the rest of his body, but he didn't feel it. No rain could be colder than the emptiness he felt inside.

Summoning his trusty canine partner, he gave the dog some instructions and words to impart to his son. At first, the dog attempted to argue, plead, to beg, but once he saw the look in his master's eyes, all he could do was cry out a long whine before sprinting off to fulfill his master's dying wish.

With a final look at his beloved home, the White Fang of Konoha opened up his flack jacket, exposing his torso, and pulled out his signature blade, ready to shed some blood with it for the final time.

Holding it in front of him, he injected chakra into it, just to see it in all its glory for one final time as he drove it into his own chest, piercing his heart, his body collapsing to the ground.

Staring straight up into the rain-filled sky, he had but one last thought before he passed.

𝘒𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳...