Everyone was startled and turned to look.
Under the moonlight stood a handsome, black-haired boy wearing glasses, quietly watching them.
Nobody had noticed when he arrived.
It was Ryuha Uchiha.
He wore a high-collared robe embroidered with the Uchiha Clan’s fan crest on his back.
His hands were in his pockets, his posture relaxed.
“Who are you?” The tall student frowned.
“An Uchiha?
Mind your own business!”
Ryuha Uchiha didn’t answer, only stepping forward slowly.
His footsteps were light.
Yet somehow, as he approached, an invisible pressure quietly enveloped the area.
The other students instinctively took a step back.
Ryuha walked up to Kakashi and stopped.
Without looking at Kakashi, he calmly stared at the tall student.
“What you just said…” Ryuha Uchiha spoke, his voice quiet yet falling clearly into everyone’s ears.
“Do you have the courage to say it again?”
The tall student swallowed hard.
He recognized him—the Uchiha genius whose name had been circulating wildly through the Ninja Academy these past few days.
The monster who had awakened an unknown Kekkei Genkai and instakilled Setsuna Uchiha in a single move.
Yet his pride as an older student made him bite the bullet and push back:
“I said Sakumo Hatake is trash!
Abandoning a mission just to save his comrades, putting Konoha—”
His words cut off abruptly.
Because Ryuha raised his hand.
No hand seals.
No Chakra gathering, either.
He simply raised his right hand, aiming his palm at him.
Under the moonlight, that pale, slender hand looked completely non-threatening.
Yet the tall student’s throat felt as though squeezed by an invisible hand, unable to utter another word.
The hair all over his body stood on end, and his pupils shrank dramatically.
He “saw” it—
Not with his eyes, but through perception.
Behind that fair-skinned hand, a colossal demonic god seemed to stand towering between heaven and earth.
Scarlet pupils looked down upon him, and cold, murderous intent stabbed into his very marrow like something tangible.
What was…
that?
An illusion?
No, it was too real.
So real he could feel his heart hammering wildly, his blood running backward, and his limbs stiffening beyond his control.
“I…
I…” He opened his mouth, unable to produce a complete sound.
The other four students sensed something was wrong as well.
They couldn’t see the phantom image behind Ryuha, but they could feel the air suddenly growing thick and cold, making even breathing difficult.
Was that…
killing intent?
No, it was far more terrifying than killing intent.
It was pressure from a higher dimension, pressing directly upon the soul level.
“Get lost.”
A single word fell from Ryuha Uchiha’s lips.
The voice was very soft.
Yet to the five students, it sounded like a thunderclap detonating inside their minds.
Without even thinking, their bodies instinctively turned.
Scrambling and crawling on all fours, they fled the training ground, not daring to look back once.
A few seconds later, silence returned to the training ground.
Only Ryuha remained, alongside Kakashi, who stood in his original spot, breathing softly.
Ryuha turned around and looked at Kakashi.
Moonlight spilled across Kakashi’s silver-white hair.
For the first time, a different light flickered within his dead, lifeless eyes.
Astonishment, confusion, and a hint of gratitude.
“They’re gone,” Ryuha Uchiha said, his voice returning to its former gentle tone.
Kakashi stared at him for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice: “…Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.” Ryuha pushed up his glasses.
“However, running away won’t solve the problem.
They left today, but they’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after that.
So long as your father’s matter remains unsettled, this criticism won’t stop.”
Kakashi’s body trembled, and he snapped his head up.
“You—do you also think my father did something wrong?”
Ryuha didn’t answer directly.
He walked over to a bench at the edge of the training ground, sat down, and patted the spot beside him.
Kakashi hesitated a moment and walked over, but he didn’t sit, remaining standing.
“Lord Sakumo Hatake is a hero of Konoha,” Ryuha said slowly.
“He has executed countless S-rank missions, saved countless comrades, bled for the village, and performed legendary deeds.
A single failed mission is not enough to erase all his achievements.”
Kakashi’s eyes brightened slightly, but quickly dimmed again.
“But…
everyone says…”
“Everyone?” Ryuha smiled slightly, his expression somewhat cold.
“Who is ‘everyone’?
Those hiding safely in the rear who have never set foot on a battlefield?
Those who enjoy peace while pointing fingers at the heroes who protect that peace?”
He looked at Kakashi.
“Kakashi, why is your father called ‘Konoha’s White Fang’?”
Kakashi fell silent for a moment, then murmured low, “Because his short sword…
is like a pair of white fangs, striking terror into the hearts of our enemies.”
“Then,” Ryuha asked, “would a hero who strikes terror into the hearts of enemies turn into trash just because of one failed mission?”
Kakashi froze.
“Public opinion is a blade; it can kill without leaving a trace.” Ryuha stood up and patted Kakashi’s shoulder.
“But your father is the one who holds the blade, not the one pointed at by it.
If he could carve his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, he can walk out from these idle rumors.”
“The question is…” He paused, looking directly into Kakashi’s eyes.
“Do you believe in him?”
Kakashi shuddered all over.
“I…” He opened his mouth, not knowing how to answer.
Did he believe in his father?
Of course he did.
But…
if his father was right, why did everyone say he was wrong?
Why were even the comrades his father rescued blaming him?
“When you can’t figure it out, go ask the man himself.” Ryuha turned and began walking out of the training ground.
“Rather than agonizing over it here alone, why not ask your father in person—why he made that choice, and whether he regrets it.”
His voice drifted back on the wind:
“A hero’s solitude often stems from being understood by no one.
And as his son, your understanding might be the very thing he needs most right now.”
Kakashi stood frozen in place, watching Ryuha’s receding back for a long time.
The moonlight stretched his shadow out long across the ground.
Within those lifeless eyes, a faint ember sparked for the very first time.
“Father…” he whispered under his breath, clenching his fists tightly.
…
In the shadows outside the training ground, an Anbu captain wearing a cat mask—codenamed Kagami—watched this scene silently.
His recording scroll was already covered in writing:
“Target made contact with Kakashi Hatake, seemingly a chance encounter.
Intervened to assist him; words carried guided intent; purpose unclear.
Continuous surveillance recommended.”
Kagami stowed the scroll, his form vanishing into the darkness.
The night wind swept across the training ground, carrying a few fallen leaves.
The night in Konoha was quiet as ever.