Chapter 27 – The White Fang's Guest
A few days had passed since their quiet walk home. The memory of Akira's words lingered in Sakumo's mind, circling like birds over a restless sky. It wasn't often that another child's perspective touched him, but there was something about this boy — something sharp and honest, beyond his years.
That evening, as Kakashi was cleaning his kunai at the table, Sakumo spoke without looking up.
"Kakashi," he said evenly, "bring Akira over tomorrow after the academy. I'd like to meet him."
Kakashi's hand stilled, his single visible eye widening just slightly. "…You want to meet Akira?"
"Yes," Sakumo replied, setting aside his blade. "You've spoken of him more than anyone else. If he's the kind of boy who can read so deeply into others… then I should see him with my own eyes."
Kakashi hesitated, then gave a small nod. "…Alright."
---
The Visit
The next day, Akira followed Kakashi through the quiet Uchiha streets until they reached the modest Hatake home. It wasn't grand, nor clan-like, but it felt… alive. The faint smell of oil and steel, scrolls stacked neatly, a training yard at the back — everything spoke of discipline, but also warmth.
Inside, Sakumo sat by a low table, his white hair catching the lamplight. His gaze lifted, steady but not cold. For a moment, Akira felt the weight of that legendary presence — the man known across nations, feared as Konoha's White Fang.
Then Sakumo smiled. "So you're Akira."
Akira bowed slightly, his voice respectful but steady. "Yes, sir. Thank you for inviting me."
Sakumo studied him closely. The golden Byakugan glint in Akira's eyes caught his attention first, strange yet regal. But what struck him more was the calm way the boy carried himself — no arrogance, no fear.
"I've heard a great deal about you from my son," Sakumo said. "More than he realizes he's told me."
Kakashi stiffened slightly, looking away, but Sakumo's smile only deepened.
Akira tilted his head. "I hope… good things?"
Sakumo chuckled. "Good, yes. Honest, more than anything. He says you see the truth in people, even when others look away. That's a rare gift."
For the first time, Akira's composure faltered. His hands tightened at his sides. "…I just said what I thought was right. That people shouldn't judge Kakashi's father only as a weapon."
Sakumo's eyes softened. He leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"You're right," he said, his voice carrying the weight of countless battlefields. "Too often, a shinobi's worth is measured by the fear he inspires. But true strength… is measured by what you choose to protect."
The words hung in the air. Kakashi's gaze flicked between them, a strange tightness in his chest. Akira nodded slowly, his golden eyes steady.
"…That's what I believe too."
For a moment, silence reigned, but it was not heavy. It was the kind of silence that felt like acknowledgment — an understanding passed without need for more words.
---
Sakumo's Reflection
Later, after Akira had gone, Sakumo stood at the doorway, watching the boy's figure disappear into the evening light.
(So that's him… the boy who carries two legacies, yet insists on being his own. His eyes aren't just bloodline — they're conviction. And somehow… he's already standing at my son's side, not as a rival, not as a friend, but something else. Something Kakashi himself can't name yet.)
Sakumo's lips curved faintly into a rare smile.
(Perhaps… that's exactly what Kakashi needs.)
---