"When you were a student, your theoretical grades were always excellent," Hyuga Seiran said, his eyes fixed on Kakashi with a faint, knowing smile. "I'm sure you're familiar with the Will of Fire."
Kakashi remained silent, his single visible eye narrowing slightly.
"Of course," Seiran continued, his voice casual yet cutting. "The Will of Fire was passed down by Hashirama Senju when the village was founded. It's the bond that holds the Hidden Leaf Village and its people together."
Seiran leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "So... what do you think made your father choose suicide in the end? After all this time, have you reached any conclusions?"
Kakashi hadn't expected Seiran to dodge his question and turn it back on him. After a brief pause, he answered, his voice rough. "Is it because of the priority between comrades and the mission?"
For years after his father's death, he'd agonized over that question—mission or comrades? In the end, he'd concluded that even if you couldn't complete the mission, sacrificing comrades was pointless waste. That conclusion had shaped his entire philosophy, the reason he'd earned such a terrible reputation.
"That's just the surface," Seiran said dismissively. "Do you really think a ninja like Hatake Sakumo would commit suicide over something so shallow?"
Kakashi fell silent. True, the issue ran deeper. But for White Fang, revered by countless shinobi, to take his own life over something like that? It didn't add up.
"Your father chose to protect his comrades and the villagers instead of the mission," Seiran continued. "Wasn't he simply interpreting the Will of Fire?"
Kakashi's breath hitched.
Wasn't that exactly what the Will of Fire advocated? A father choosing to protect his comrades... but then why? Why would those ninjas and villagers who supposedly upheld the Will of Fire treat him like that? Even the shinobi he'd saved...
Kakashi's mind jammed. He couldn't figure it out.
"Still not getting it?" Seiran rolled his eyes. "It was the Will of Fire—the one in their mouths—that killed your father."
"Impossible," Kakashi reflexively retorted. The Will of Fire had been drilled into him since childhood. Hearing Seiran speak of it this way, his first instinct was to resist. "Since the Will of Fire teaches ninjas to protect comrades and the village, there's no way someone like your father—who actually practiced that philosophy—would be treated like that."
"There's only one truth," Seiran said, his voice dropping to a cold, flat tone. "The Will of Fire is wrong. It's been wrong from the start. It's just a tool—power tactics made up by the people at the top to maintain their rule."
Every word hit Kakashi like a hammer, shattering something fragile deep within him.
"Maybe... maybe it's because his choice caused massive losses to the village..." Kakashi's voice cracked as he tried to fight back.
"Losses?" Seiran almost laughed. He stared at Kakashi with cold eyes. "What losses? Did they lose critical intelligence? Did the village suffer huge property damage? Or was it just... fabricated by the higher-ups?"
Kakashi felt his mind fracturing. His mouth hung open, but the last of his resistance crumbled.
How had he missed that? Losses. What losses? From the beginning, the rumors only mentioned "huge losses," but no one could say what they actually were. Even his father never told him. Just a baseless rumor...
Despicable.
At some point, Kakashi's teeth clenched, tears spilling down his cheeks. Father... were you wronged? Why?!
"Wake up, Kakashi," Seiran sighed heavily. "The Will of Fire has always been a tool for maintaining control. How it's defined, how it's explained—it's all in the hands of the people above."
Looking at Kakashi in tears, Seiran's expression remained unmoved.
"But... why? Why would they do that to him? Father obviously believed..." Kakashi's voice broke, choking on his own words.
"You said it yourself. Who doesn't know the name of White Fang? If nothing else, the Fourth Hokage was almost him. That status determined his tragedy. It's politics, kid."
Political struggle.
Kakashi's body swayed, his strength draining away. So his father's will... he already understood. White Fang was just a victim of a power struggle? Fighting silently to his death? That smiling father—he was suffering that much?
After a long time, Kakashi finally calmed himself. He gently wiped the tears from his face. His eyes were deep, pupils seeming to contain something dark—like a void.
Without a trace of emotion, he bowed slightly to Seiran. "Thank you for making me realize the truth of this world."
His voice was cold as a machine.
Seiran glanced at him. "I don't know what you're planning. Revenge? Leaving? But I want to warn you—don't be blinded by impulse."
"I understand," Kakashi said calmly. He turned and walked straight out of the tent. Unlike when he'd arrived, he moved now as if his soul had been extracted.
Seiran watched his retreating figure with cold indifference, a dark satisfaction settling behind his eyes.
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