Hatake Kakashi never considered himself among occult believers.
He was generally skeptical about astrology, tarot cards, blood types, and other pseudoscientific practices.
At festivals, if someone did manage to drag him there, he didn't trust the fortune-tellers at their draped booths. During friendly gatherings, he wasn't frightened by scary stories or tales involving supernatural entities.
Yes, Kakashi preferred to trust only his own eyes—and his nose, to be precise. And yes, Kakashi didn't believe in supernatural beings.
He knew they existed.
The day that convinced him of this seemed utterly ordinary. Young Kakashi could never have imagined that this unremarkable day would etch itself deeply into his memory and perhaps even become a significant part of his personality if not its very essence.
Like any summer in Konoha, that one was particularly hot. The sunset sky shimmered with a palette of colors. The setting sun on that fateful day was so vivid that, no matter how hard he strained his memory, Hatake wouldn't have been able to recall a single cool shade. Houses, trees, the familiar playground, and the children running to meet their parents—everything was bathed in golden-orange rays.
Kakashi's indifferent gaze lingered for a moment on one of the branches.
A small family of birds had made a home in a nest. It was rather odd that there was only one chick, but Kakashi's interest was missed by this detail. For a while, he watched the tiny feathered creatures until a cool breeze reminded him that it was time to head home.
Not that such a necessity particularly bothered Kakashi. The building that served as the home of the last remaining members of the Hatake clan, though far too large for just two inhabitants, successfully fulfilled its purpose.
As soon as it came into view, the boy's tense shoulders softened slightly, though his face remained hidden behind his ever-present mask. If someone had been watching him from afar, they might have noticed his steps quicken just a little—though Kakashi himself would never admit it.
„I'm home."- his flat, emotionless tone echoed off the walls.
Kakashi was about to slip off his sandals when a strange smell cut through the air. He sniffed, realizing that the familiar scent of wood and dust had mingled with something nauseatingly metallic.
Without a second thought, he bolted toward the source of the smell.
The boy flung open the shoji doors that separated the corridor from his father's room.
It was dark—at some point, the faint light of a candle had been snuffed out by the rush of air when the door was opened—but Kakashi could clearly make out the silhouette of Sakumo's body.
He started to approach but froze after taking just one step, his gaze locking onto the pool of blood soaking into the wooden floorboards.
What was Kakashi thinking at that moment? Absolutely nothing. For some reason, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the crimson mirror that distortedly reflected his contorted face. His mind seemed to completely block out the presence of the corpse in the room.
Kakashi had the odd sense that if he looked away now, he'd miss something utterly important.
His heart was pounding erratically, even though his body felt like it had turned to ice.
Hatake tried to focus on his breathing, but suddenly he noticed something strange in the reflection—a blurred, white silhouette looming over him.
That was enough to break him out of his stupor. He gasped sharply and turned around.
Standing before him was Hatake Sakumo. But... wasn't he dead just seconds ago?
"F...Father?" - Kakashi's voice faltered, barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to reach the ghost. Sakumo gave a helpless smile.
His weightless hand instinctively rested on his son's shoulder. Kakashi could swear he felt an icy chill where the dead man's hand touched him.
Sakumo's lips moved. No sound emerged, but Kakashi managed to read a single phrase off his lips.
"Will you forgive me?"
In that moment, time seemed to stop. Kakashi could feel the fragile connection between Sakumo's lingering soul and the world of the living weakening.
But he didn't notice the salty wetness soaking into his mask.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he screamed with all his might:
"NO!"
He didn't move, didn't make any attempt to stop the flow of tears streaming down his face. Through the blurriness of his vision, he could no longer discern the emotions on the faint spirit's face.
He waited, hoping Sakumo would say something else, but his father simply withdrew his hand. With one last glance, Sakumo disappeared beyond the open shoji.
Kakashi rushed after the ghost, ignoring his trembling legs, but the dim twilight of the corridor greeted him with nothing but emptiness.
Still dazed by what he had witnessed, Kakashi stumbled forward aimlessly, desperate to catch even the faintest glimpse of that vision again.
From beyond the front doors came the rustling noise.
"Father!"
He abruptly opened the front door but found himself staring into the worried sky-blue eyes of Minato-sensei.
Minato was asking him something, but Kakashi wasn't listening anymore.