Anyone who had watched Naruto knew about the legendary White Fang of Konoha—
Hatake Sakumo, Kakashi’s father.
His strength had surpassed even the Three Sannin, and Kakashi himself would later become one of Konoha’s most famous shinobi.
Because of them, the Hatake name would eventually become renowned throughout the village.
But having actually lived in this era, Sora knew the truth.
Before the rise of the White Fang, the Hatake clan was nothing special.
At best, it could be considered an ordinary shinobi clan.
Compared to clans like the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka, the Hatake were inferior both in military strength and financial resources.
The problem lay in their bloodline.
Members of the Hatake clan were naturally born with relatively small chakra reserves.
Even though many of them were highly skilled with swords, shinobi warfare wasn’t fought with blades alone.
Ninjutsu flew everywhere on the battlefield.
Against enemies capable of bombarding an area from a distance, swordsmanship was often difficult to fully exploit.
If not for the limitation of their chakra reserves, the Hatake clan might have stood just beneath Konoha’s three great clans.
But there were no “ifs” in reality.
So in the newly founded Konoha, the Hatake were still only a minor clan.
There were barely more than fifty members in total, and their compound wasn’t particularly large.
Only a few days had passed since Sora’s burial when Hashirama and Madara’s battle erupted.
Because of that, no one had moved into his little courtyard yet.
Unfortunately…
Almost everything he’d owned before his death had already been burned along with him.
Clothes.
Accessories.
Personal belongings.
Gone.
Sora stood inside the nearly empty room and looked around.
Only some basic furniture remained.
He sighed.
“Great.”
“Another pile of money I have to spend.”
He walked over to a mirror.
Looking at his reflection, Sora immediately noticed the changes in his body.
Compared to how weak and frail he had been before death, his current hunched posture was almost entirely deliberate.
He could straighten his back whenever he wanted.
His energy and vitality were even better than they had been during his youth.
Only the wrinkles across his face and his completely white hair still made him look ancient.
Curious, Sora casually threw a few punches.
Then some kicks.
He followed that with more than a dozen push-ups.
Then another dozen sit-ups.
Finally, he grabbed a table weighing several dozen kilograms and lifted it with one hand.
The smile on his face grew wider with every test.
“This great dog yōkai bloodline really is amazing.”
“I still look like some seventy- or eighty-year-old geezer, but physically I’m already comparable to a young man.”
He flexed his hand.
“My strength might even surpass that of most ordinary people.”
More importantly—
Ever since acquiring the great dog yōkai bloodline, his body had continued changing.
Rejuvenating.
Strengthening.
Restoring itself.
“If this keeps up…”
Sora grinned.
“Looks like I’ll be living for quite a few more years.”
Knowing that he wasn’t about to drop dead again anytime soon immediately put him in a much better mood.
So Sora went straight to Hatake Suiin and borrowed ten thousand ryō.
Elderly clan members were normally supported by the clan anyway.
And considering Sora was Suiin’s own great-uncle—and had never been someone who wasted money recklessly—the clan head didn’t hesitate to give it to him.
Sora bought new daily necessities.
Cooking utensils.
A fresh tea set.
And, naturally—
tea leaves.
Once everything was ready, Sora settled comfortably into his small sitting room and brewed himself a pot of tea.
In his previous life, he had been born in China, the birthplace of tea culture.
Because of that, tea had always held a special place in his heart.
He drank some almost every day.
Unlike certain people who used tea to make themselves look refined and sophisticated, however, Sora had never cared about any of that.
He brewed tea.
Then drank it.
That was it.
He simply enjoyed the peace and quiet.
As for properly “appreciating” tea?
He didn’t understand it.
And he had no intention of pretending he did.
Sora leaned comfortably against a large wooden chair on the floor, took a sip—
and sensed someone approaching.
Two men dressed in traditional clothing had arrived outside his open courtyard.
On their backs was the unmistakable red-and-white fan crest of the Uchiha clan.
The middle-aged man among them carried a gift box.
He had just raised his hand to knock when Sora spoke from inside.
“No need.”
“Come in.”
Since acquiring the great dog yōkai bloodline, Sora’s senses had become extremely sharp.
Besides—
they were standing right outside.
It wasn’t exactly difficult to notice them.
The two Uchiha entered the courtyard.
Sora remained lazily reclined in his chair, sipping tea.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Uchiha kids.”
“What do you want?”
The older of the two appeared to be in his sixties.
Despite his age, he respectfully lowered his posture.
“Elder Hatake protected Lord Hokage and brought him safely back to the village.”
“As fellow members of Konoha, we came to express our gratitude.”
“We weren’t certain what you preferred, so we prepared a monetary gift instead.”
As he spoke, the middle-aged man beside him raised the gift box.
But he didn’t physically carry it forward.
Instead—
the box floated through the air and gently landed on Sora’s table.
Sora raised an eyebrow.
Chakra threads?
His control is impressive.
He gave the middle-aged Uchiha another look.
Could be the next clan head.
“Oh?”
Sora smiled.
“It was nothing.”
“You’re far too polite.”
His mouth said one thing.
His hands said another.
Without the slightest hesitation, Sora opened the box.
His eyes immediately brightened.
Money.
A lot of it.
After roughly estimating the amount, there had to be around—
five hundred thousand ryō.
For Sora, that was a fortune.
His smile became noticeably warmer.
“With this much money, I’m guessing your question isn’t going to be simple.”
Sora calmly closed the box.
“But since you’re being so generous, ask away.”
“If I know the answer, I’ll tell you.”
The Uchiha clan head frowned almost imperceptibly.
To powerful shinobi like him, money wasn’t especially important.
Strength was what truly mattered.
Seeing Sora become so visibly interested in cash caused his evaluation of the old man to drop considerably.
Still, his expression returned to normal almost immediately.
“I want to know what happened to Madara.”
His tone remained calm.
“Although he is no longer a member of the Uchiha clan, he injured Lord Hokage.”
“As a member of Konoha, it is naturally our responsibility to punish such a traitor.”
Sora’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Crafty old fox.
That single statement sounded like a simple question.
But it accomplished several things at once.
Most importantly—
he had completely severed the Uchiha clan’s relationship with Madara.
Whatever Madara had done was Madara’s responsibility.
Not the Uchiha clan’s.
Sora took another sip of tea.
“When I woke up, I only saw little Hashirama lying there.”
“I didn’t see anyone else.”
He shrugged.
“Judging by how badly the battlefield was destroyed, though…”
“Madara might be dead.”
“If you’re asking me about the battle itself, I can’t help you.”
“I never saw it.”
Sora smiled faintly.
“After all, if I’d actually stood there watching those two fight…”
“I’d probably be dead.”
The Uchiha clan head frowned.
He wanted to continue questioning him.
But Sora had neatly blocked almost every possible path.
If Sora was claiming that he had only awakened after everything was already over, then there was little point asking what had happened beforehand.
After a short silence, the clan head stood.
“Thank you.”
“We won’t disturb your rest any further.”
The two Uchiha soon left the Hatake compound.
…
Back inside the Uchiha district—
the middle-aged man looked toward his father.
“Father.”
“Do you believe that old immortal?”
The Uchiha clan head was silent for a moment.
“Yes.”
“And no.”
“I can’t sense chakra inside his body.”
“That means he should still be an ordinary man.”
His eyes narrowed.
“But as long as Lord Hokage remains unconscious, we cannot confirm whether Madara is truly dead.”
His voice became colder.
“And I would prefer that he is.”
“Otherwise…”
“He’ll drag the entire Uchiha clan down with him.”
The middle-aged man’s expression hardened.
“If Madara is still alive, he may also be injured.”
“Should we find someone to…”
“Kill him?”
The clan head answered without hesitation.
“Use outsiders.”
“Yes.”
…
The Uchiha weren’t the only visitors.
Not long afterward, the Hyūga clan head arrived as well.
His gift contained three hundred thousand ryō.
And his question was essentially identical.
Sora naturally gave him the same answer.
What Sora hadn’t expected was that even an elder from the Senju clan would later come asking about what had happened.
That caused a thought to surface in his mind.
In the future, only Tsunade would remain as a known descendant of the Senju clan.
Sora had always found that strange.
But now…
Perhaps the answer wasn’t quite as simple as he had once assumed.
The larger a clan became—
the more complicated people’s hearts became.
Everyone had their own agenda.
…
One week later—
a message from the Hokage reached the major clans and Konoha’s elite jōnin.
An important meeting had been called.
And among those invited was someone who normally never would have appeared on such a list.
Hatake Sora.
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