Hatake Sakumo whimpered in the darkness.
It had been weeks after the mission. He had locked himself in his study, refusing to exit out the compound for the fear of meeting the glazed eyes of Konoha. They hated him. They absolutely hated him.
Sakumo let out a choked sigh.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. His little boy had to endure the jeering and the scowls of the people, and for what? Kakashi did nothing but be the son of a disgrace- a loyal, faithful son who now had to ponder why everybody resented him. Sure, the little prodigy could tell what was happening. Hell, Kakashi stopped asking the man to train with him weeks ago when Sakumo decided to just let himself wallow in his grief.
But Kakashi was still Kakashi, and he still idolized his father. But that was what Sakumo was worried about. The thought of Kakashi siding with him, and the thought of his son earning the hatred of Konoha, was too much.
He stared at his cold, lifeless hands. When was the last time he had exercised? Ever since he locked himself up, his chakra slowly began to deteriorate. His body became more exhausted than ever. The White Fang, strong as he could be, crumbled under the unfairness of it all. He pulled on his hair, whimpering once more. He had no idea what to do. Sighing, his eyes trailed around the decrepit room, searching for something, anything.
Its lustrous glisten caught the corner of his eyes. Sakumo widened his eyes.
Yes. That was it. It was the only way to free him from this world, but also to free Kakashi from the pain he would have to endure. It was too late. The White Fang had already shamed his family, but that wouldn't stop anyone else from saving it. And that someone could only be his son- his loyal, faithful son who would never understand why Sakumo did what he did. But he didn't need to. Because Sakumo knew that Kakashi would him make him proud.
His fingers lingered over to it.
He knew that Kakashi would repute the Hatake name, and carry the Will of the Fire.
It was within his grasp.
He knew that Kakashi, his beautiful boy, would become a great shinobi and wield the infamous white chakra sabre, freeing the man of his regrets, and ultimately bringing him satisfaction that maybe, his death wasn't for nothing after all.
His grip on the hilt tightened.
It was the only way. Kakashi would never know his dying wish; he'd have to figure it himself. He was a prodigy, wasn't he?
Sakumo closed his eyes, as he angled it to his chest. He didn't wish to see his own blood.
He believed in his son. He believed, because what else could he do?
"Kakashi… I'm sorry…"
Blade met flesh.