I sadly, do own Naruto, or else I would have renamed it Kakashi!


White Fang, Lightning's Howl: The Secret of the Hatake Clan

Revisiting the Past

"Heh. So this is the child of Hatake Sakumo. Pitiful really." The head of the Uchiha clan looked down his nose at the fourteen year old. Beside him, stood a small kid with black hair.

Yellow Flash smiled.

"Kakashi is an able shinobi, one any teacher would be proud of."

"Yes. Well, I hear the boy has a Sharingan. Given as a gift. It is amazing. Not only that an Uchiha would be foolish enough to share such a great gift but also that his body was great enough to bear it."

Kakashi glared at the lord.

"Even so," the frowning man said, "my boy, Itachi, is already showing promise. He for one will receive all the attention he needs and the instruction." He paused. "He will be a child worthy of our name. Not an orphaned child, son of a coward."

"You should know better than to speak like that," Kakashi's sensei said severly. "Hatake Sakumo was a great man, a Hatake, and Kakashi also bears potential."

"Hmmmm…" the Uchiha snorted, turning away. "Time will tell. Time will tell."


Time did tell. Interesting things.

Kakashi sighed. It was sad. That such talent, such gifts would cause such grief, such evil. It was a lesson he learned early – that arrogance and pride could bring a man down. That veangence was a dark path to tread – capable of destroying you. Itachi never figured it out.

What did the Uchiha receive? Death at the hands of the genius they coddled. Ironic and pathetic.

What makes a shinobi is not his jutsu but love, loyalty, courage and hard work.

Sasuke never seemed to figure it out. He was still in the dark as Kakashi once had been in the dark.

And he had to find out what power his father spoke of. Although, walking through this place would stir up more than just dust.


Climbing over the gate was easy, walking down the pathway was not. Old faces, phantoms of memories long past, peered out at him through the light shower that started to fall. The sky grew darker as heavier clouds moved in.

He remembered the face of the fat housekeeper as she strangled a chicken for dinner. He remembered the baker. The servant girl who giggled a lot over the stable boy. He remembered the swing, now hanging, one rope had rotted right off the branch, upon which he would swing in the breeze. The kitchen garden, now a wilderness of wild vegetables.

And the manor.

Walking up to the door, he pushed gently. It was locked. Sighing, he walked around, and found a slightly open window, clogged by crawling plants. Pushing past, he walked into what had been the main suite.

The walls were partially covered with creepers, everything else lay silently under white sheets. Walking past, Kakashi made his way into the open area, called the family parlour, where they had received important guests like the Hokage.

He peeked momentarily into his bedroom. It too was merely lumps of things under white sheets, although, he could see that he had left a lot of his stuff, right there. The tiny kunai. The small shuriken his father had ordered for him specially.

Then there was the study. Drawing a breath, to steady himself, Kakashi pushed the door open and walked through.