Chapter 41: The Weight of Truth
Night draped its silence over Konoha, a heavy stillness that seemed to echo with the grief of the day. The funeral of Sakumo Hatake had passed only hours ago—an event that had drawn the entire village, shinobi and civilians alike, to mourn the White Fang. His loss was not just personal; it was the fall of a pillar.
But in one quiet corner of the Hatake household, the world had shrunk to just two boys.
Kakashi sat on the tatami, both eyes—sharp, unhidden, and weary—fixed on the floorboards. His body was still, but his chest carried the weight of words unspoken. He had been praised all day for his father's sacrifice, yet behind every smile, every murmur of condolence, he had felt the whispers. The betrayal. The dishonor.
And now, in the midst of his solitude, Akira appeared.
He did not knock. He did not announce himself. He simply stepped into the room, his presence soft yet unshakable. His golden Byakugan flickered faintly in the dim light, and for a long while, he said nothing.
Finally, Akira spoke, his voice low.
"Kakashi… I'm sorry."
Kakashi's gaze lifted, both eyes narrowing, suspicion mingling with exhaustion. "Sorry? For what? You didn't do this."
Akira hesitated, then walked closer. His steps were slow, as if he were stepping into a storm. "I was there… the night before. I stopped him."
Kakashi's breath caught, his eyes widening. "You—what?"
Akira lowered himself to the floor, his expression steady but weighted with guilt. "I stopped him when he tried to end his life. I took him somewhere… a place that belongs to me alone. A dimension created by my eyes."
Kakashi blinked, struggling to process the words. Both eyes locked onto Akira, demanding truth. "You're saying… you could have stopped this? That you had a way to save him?"
Akira's jaw tightened. "I tried. I gave him a choice. To stay hidden in that place—safe, alive—or to return here and face what waited." His voice faltered for the first time. "He chose this world, Kakashi. He chose his story."
Silence swallowed the room. Kakashi's lips parted, but no words came. His hands trembled, nails digging into his knees.
Akira looked at him, eyes calm but unflinching. "That's why I'm here. You deserve to know the truth. And you deserve to see where he chose not to stay."
Without waiting for permission, Akira's golden Byakugan flared. The room around them dissolved in an instant, swallowed by light.
When Kakashi blinked, he was standing in a world unlike any he had ever seen. Mountains stretched into the horizon, rivers cut through valleys, forests whispered in the breeze, and life hummed everywhere—birds, animals, insects, all untouched by the stain of war.
And at the center of it all, Akira stood with an aura not of coldness, but of protection and gentle strength. His eyes glowed with a power that was not Uchiha's crimson rage, but a blue radiance like the ocean, calm and infinite.
Kakashi stumbled a step forward, his breath stolen. "This… this is what you showed him?"
Akira nodded slowly. "Yes. And now, I'm showing it to you. Because I don't want you to carry only the weight of his death. I want you to know he had a choice. He chose because he believed his path, even if it hurt you, was still his own."
Kakashi's chest tightened, a storm rising inside him. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. "You… you should have made him stay."
Akira closed his eyes briefly, his tone both steady and aching. "I couldn't. A story forced is no story at all. Remember, Kakashi—there is always a cost. For making your story better, for not making it better. And it's you who will have to pay it. So decide carefully… which story you want to tell."
Kakashi stared at him, speechless, his two eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
For the first time since the funeral, his silence wasn't empty—it was full.
And in the vast, living dimension around them, the weight of truth finally began to sink in.