The Hokage office was a pool of shadows, illuminated only by a single desk lamp. Hana Uchiha stood beside the desk, the Hokage hat a dark silhouette. Arrayed around the room, silent and still, were masked ANBU and emotionless ROOT operatives. In the center of the room, standing at relaxed attention, was Hatake Kakashi, his single visible eye fixed on the woman who had summoned him.
Hana's voice cut through the silent tension, her tone flat and devoid of theatrics.
**(do you want to be hokage? ,)**
The question was so direct it was jarring. Kakashi's eye crinkled slightly, the only sign of his surprise. He was used to subterfuge and politics, not a blade of a question to the throat. The masked figures around the room did not move, but the air grew colder.
**(let clarify something about your father death taking his own life but do you all remember his position? ,)**
A shockwave, silent but palpable, went through the ANBU. Kakashi went perfectly still. His father's suicide was the foundational trauma of his life, a wound so deep and private that to have it laid bare in this company was a violation. But Hana was not done. She was dissecting the wound in front of everyone.
**(he the anbu commander but his mission everyone was speaking of his failure but only the hokage should know the mission so it clearly that white fang the father of kakashi was threatened if he didn't kill himself then his son and the hatake clan will be killed)**
The theory, stated with such cold, brutal logic, hung in the air. It was a heresy against the official story. It implicated the previous regime in a political assassination disguised as a personal tragedy. The ANBU who had served under the White Fang or knew of his legend felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Kakashi's hand, hidden in his pocket, clenched into a fist. He had buried the pain of his father's choice for years. Now, this woman was telling him it might not have been a choice at all, but an execution.
**(as for who did it you all should have some idea, after all being on anbu or root it won't be easily to kill you by using people badmouthing you and spreading rumors)**
Her gaze swept over the masked faces. She was speaking their language now—the language of blackmail, coercion, and shadowy power plays. She was reminding them that they were all potential victims—or perpetrators—of such machinations. They knew the tools because they were the tools.
**(and sakumo was the anbu leader which means he not that easy swayed by rumors,)**
This was the final, crushing point of her argument. The White Fang was a legend of willpower and strength. The idea that mere village gossip could break him was always a weak, pathetic story. Hana was giving the tragedy a darker, more plausible truth: that he was broken by a threat he couldn't fight, a threat to his son and his clan. A threat that could only have come from the very top.
**(so kakashi knowing this do you still want to be hokage? )**
She finished, returning her flat gaze to him. She had not offered comfort. She had offered a devastating, life-altering possibility and then immediately tied it to the burden of the hat. The position of Hokage was now inextricably linked to the corruption that may have killed his father.
The room waited. The ANBU and ROOT operatives were statues, but their attention was entirely on Kakashi. His father's legacy, his own trauma, and the sins of the village were laid at his feet.
Kakashi was silent for a long time. He looked from Hana to the Hokage hat on the desk, then to the masked faces of the operatives who represented the village's darkest and brightest aspects.
Finally, his shoulders, which had been tense, relaxed. His visible eye closed, then opened. The lethargy was gone, replaced by a grim, weary resolve.
"The village that allowed that to happen," he said, his voice quiet but clear, "is the village that needs a Hokage who would never allow it to happen again."
It wasn't a 'yes'. But it wasn't a 'no'. It was an acknowledgment of the burden and a acceptance of the responsibility to change the very system that had created it.
Hana gave a single, slow nod. She had not convinced him with glory or duty. She had convinced him by showing him the rot, and appealing to the one thing that had always defined Hatake Kakashi: a desperate, buried need to protect his comrades. Now, his comrade was the entire village itself, and it needed protecting from its own past.