Chapter 107: A Cynic's Sermon
After the hollow pleasantries about Kakashi's well-being, Sarutobi Hiruzen's expression shifted into one of grave seriousness. "Kagenori," he began, his tone implying a burden shared. "You have been within Konoha's walls for some time now. The situation in the Land of Grass grows increasingly tense. Your place is on the battlefield, as this crisis approaches. Every ounce of Konoha's strength is crucial now. We must stand united."
Internally, Kagenori felt a wave of cold disdain. So, the preamble is over. Now comes the command.
He arranged his features into a mask of pained conflict. "My apologies, Hokage-sama, but I cannot, in good conscience, leave for the Land of Grass at this time. To abandon my disciple in his darkest hour would be a failure of my duty as his sensei."
Sarutobi's brow furrowed, but Kagenori pressed on, his voice gaining a fervent, almost zealous tone. "Regarding the frontlines, might I suggest dispatching Master Jiraiya? With his power and Nara Shinsuke's strategic mind working in concert, I am certain they can stabilize the situation. You yourself told us at the Academy's opening ceremony, 'Where the leaves of Konoha flutter, the fire of its will continues to burn.' I have always held those words close to my heart. The Will of Fire must be engraved in our very souls."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense. "I see Kakashi as one of those young leaves, now wilting. It is my responsibility, my duty under the very Will of Fire you taught us, to remain by his side, to nurture him back to health. His talent is immense. With proper guidance, he can become the next White Fang, a pillar of Konoha's future. He is the future of our village. As his elder, I must trust in him, protect him, and help him sprout anew. For Kakashi, and for the future of Konoha, I believe you understand my feelings and my decision, Hokage-sama."
He had taken Sarutobi's own weapon—the sacrosanct language of the Will of Fire—and turned it into a shield. He watched, coldly amused, as the Hokage's face flickered with discomfort. To refuse now would be to publicly undermine the very ideology he used to bind the village together.
Sarutobi Hiruzen was trapped by his own rhetoric. And Kagenori's point about Kakashi's potential was valid; the boy was a strategic asset in his own right. After a moment of internal calculation, the Hokage nodded, a semblance of paternal pride forced onto his features.
"Kagenori," he said, his voice dripping with manufactured approval. "You have embodied the Will of Fire perfectly. It pleases me deeply. Very well, continue to support Kakashi for now. Help him emerge from this shadow."
Kagenori bowed his head. "I will do my utmost. The moment his condition improves, I will depart for the battlefield without delay."
He left the Hokage Tower, his expression darkening with every step. The sheer, galling hypocrisy was a poison in the air. This village demanded everything from its shinobi—their lives, their loyalty, their very souls—and offered nothing but betrayal in return. Men like Sarutobi Hiruzen saw people as pieces on a board, their value measured only in utility. The notion that everyone in Konoha was family was a lie, a pretty story told to children and fools.
That evening, after the silent meal, Kagenori stopped Kakashi as the boy turned to retreat to his room. "Kakashi," he said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "It has been days. It is time you accepted reality. We need to talk. Alone."
Uzumaki Kushina, washing dishes at the sink, paused, her eyes wide with a mixture of hope and worry.
Kakashi gave a slow, silent nod.
"We will be outside," Kagenori told Kushina.
"Okay," she whispered, watching them go.
He led Kakashi to the familiar training woods, the same place where the boy had felt the metaphysical snap of his father's death. They sat cross-legged on the cold earth, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above.
Kakashi's head remained bowed, a portrait of despair.
"Some time ago," Kagenori began, his voice flat and clear, "I asked you if you understood the Will of Fire. Do you have an answer now?"
Kakashi shook his head, his voice a raw scrape. "No."
"When you asked me if your father was wrong to follow it, I said I did not know. I could not comprehend his unwavering faith. But I can tell you what I see when I look at the Will of Fire."
Kakashi slowly lifted his head, his single visible eye a void of pain.
Kagenori met his gaze, his own eyes like chips of flint. "In my eyes, the Will of Fire is a joke. It is not that the spirit itself is inherently flawed, but that it has been corrupted by those who claim to uphold it. The First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, was its true progenitor. The Konoha of his era may have genuinely lived by it. But through generations of leadership, it has been hollowed out. It is no longer a creed to live by. It is a tool, used by the upper echelons of Konoha to manipulate and control those beneath them."
Kakashi stared, the words beginning to pierce through his numb haze.
"Your father," Kagenori continued, relentless, "was a tragedy born from this deception. The Will of Fire gave him a powerful sense of belonging. It made him willing to sacrifice everything for Konoha, to see its leaders as the very embodiment of that will. So, he acted in a way he believed was right, that was in perfect alignment with that spirit. And for it, he was condemned by the very system he served. It shattered his understanding of the world."
Kagenori leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But what truly broke his spirit, Kakashi, were the four men who came to see him at the end."
Kakashi flinched as if struck.
"I was there. I heard them. The three who spread the rumors, and the fourth—Tsuki, the man whose life your father purchased with his own honor. They stood in that room and blamed him. The man he saved turned on him. Can you imagine the depth of that betrayal? The absolute, soul-crushing despair? Lord Sakumo carried out the Will of Fire to its logical conclusion, and all he received in return was venom. That is why he took the White Fang blade and ended his life."
A tremor ran through Kakashi's small frame. Then another. A raw, animalistic sound tore from his throat. He surged to his feet, his entire body trembling, his eye blazing with a murderous intent so pure it was terrifying.
"I'LL KILL THEM!" he screamed, the sound echoing in the silent woods.
Kagenori rose calmly, his demeanor a stark contrast to the boy's erupting fury. "If you wish to follow your father's path straight into an early grave, then go. I will consider the time I've invested in you wasted."
Kakashi was panting, tears of rage and grief streaming down his face. "But they killed him!"
"They were the instrument, Kakashi," Kagenori said, his voice like ice water. "The trigger. But the one who loaded the gun, the one who aimed it at his head, was the entire, rotten, hypocritical system of Konoha—a village that long ago abandoned the true Will of Fire but still uses its name to deceive men like your father into dying for it! Do you understand me now?"
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