Chapter 19: Watch Their Actions, Not Their Words
Midnight. The hour when most of Konoha slept.
But for those who carried the village's burdens, the difference between day and night had long since lost its meaning.
Inside a quiet room dimly lit by lamplight, Aizen sat behind a mountain of scrolls and papers, his brush moving swiftly and steadily.
The silence was broken by the soft sound of an Anbu kneeling behind him.
"Advisor Aizen," the masked shinobi said in a respectful whisper. "The Sandaime-sama has requested that you maintain a proper schedule for your health. It's already two in the morning. Please, take care of yourself."
"Ah, thank Sandaime-sama for his concern," Aizen replied, eyes never leaving the document. "But these reports are urgent. I'll rest once they're complete."
"But, Advisor—"
"There's no but," Aizen interrupted mildly. "It's the eve of war. Every shinobi is giving their all on the front lines. If I delay my duties simply because I'm tired, would that not dishonor their dedication?"
"…Yes, sir."
The Anbu bowed his head, admiration flickering in his voice before vanishing as quietly as he had appeared.
When the room fell silent again, Aizen exhaled softly. He gathered the completed reports into one pile and shifted the untouched stack closer.
Another mountain to conquer. Another battlefield—one fought with ink instead of steel.
Occasionally, he would pause, setting his brush down to think. His expression remained calm, detached, the light reflecting faintly off his glasses.
Then—
"…That Anbu was covering for you."
"Really?" Aizen replied evenly. "Then I must thank him."
Without turning around, he continued writing, his tone unchanging.
"So, where were we, Sakumo-kun? How did your heartfelt reunion with your son go?"
"…We talked about the graves."
"And it seems he mentioned me as well, didn't he?"
From the shadows behind the desk, a man in a white haori leaned silently against the wall. The faint light revealed the words Eleven written on his back.
Hatake Sakumo—the White Fang of Konoha—stood there, alive once more, his face calm but his eyes filled with turmoil.
Without the mask, he looked more human. More broken.
"…Is that why you've come to me tonight?"
Aizen's brush stopped mid-stroke. He turned slightly, his expression unreadable behind the gleam of his glasses.
"The man who once embodied the Will of Fire to its fullest now stands before me, seeking answers. Tell me, Sakumo-kun, what changed?"
Sakumo's silence was heavy.
Aizen resumed writing. "You know, it's fascinating. Those who least believed in the Will of Fire—men like Danzo and even Kagami—dreamed of becoming Hokage, of shaping the village in their own image. Yet they avoid me. And you, the one who gave your life for that same Will, now question it. What made the world shift beneath your feet?"
"…"
Aizen smiled faintly. "It's because the world you believed in no longer exists, isn't it?"
He dipped his brush back into the ink. "People's love for Konoha and their hatred toward me both stem from the same root—their attachment to what they already possess. They fear change because they have something to lose. But you, Sakumo-kun…"
He paused, his voice quiet, almost pitying.
"What is it that you fear about me?"
"This has nothing to do with our conversation," Sakumo muttered.
"It has everything to do with it," Aizen replied, still calm. "Fear. Understanding. The true nature of Konoha."
He wrote several elegant lines across the paper, annotations for a new reform proposal—his handwriting sharp yet graceful.
As Konoha's advisor, he had earned the right to reshape policy. His reputation was now firmly established. After only a month, both the Third Hokage and Danzo trusted him implicitly, and even the other two elders had fallen silent before his rising influence.
And yet, the man now wielding that power spoke in a tone almost melancholic.
"You're not afraid of change, or even of power," Aizen said softly. "You're afraid of me."
"Because once I decide to act… no one in this world can stop me."
He looked down at his work, a faint reflection of lamplight gleaming on his glasses.
"I know that. Which is why, until now, I've been searching for someone who can stop me."
Sakumo stared at him, confused and wary.
"Sakumo-kun," Aizen continued, "you're the kind of man who looks at a beautiful landscape and immediately wants to share it with a friend. You see beauty—and you reach out to others. That's what makes you human."
"But me?" He smiled faintly. "Even if I see something beautiful, I can't share it. Not truly. I've been like this since I was a Shinigami, and it hasn't changed in this world either."
He leaned back in his chair, his voice low and reflective.
"Back then, I despised the ignorant. I hated systems that trapped people in illusions of peace. I wanted to destroy them all and rebuild the world with my own hands."
"But now," Aizen said, the corner of his mouth curving upward, "I've found a better way. A quieter way. And for that, I need the world to understand me."
Sakumo's expression hardened.
"…You truly are the most dangerous man alive, Aizen Sosuke."
Under the soft glow of the lamplight, Hatake Sakumo looked at the man's back in silence.
He wanted the world to understand his ideals, to reshape it, and he spoke with open contempt for everyone else.
Who do you think you are?
From the very beginning, Sakumo had disliked Aizen. He had seen that pride in Aizen's bones at a single glance. But Aizen never cared.
"There was once someone who said the same thing about me," Aizen remarked lightly. "At the time, I was surprised. I hadn't done anything wrong, so why did he think that way? Now, I finally understand something."
"What's that?" Sakumo asked curtly.
"Some people are simply talented."
Setting aside the finished documents, Aizen picked up the final batch and began marking them with his brush. His tone was calm and almost conversational.
"They instinctively piece together fragments of truth through language and observation. Yet when they glimpse that truth—when they feel it—they become afraid. So they reject it, hiding behind their fear instead of understanding."
He dipped the brush again, the scratch of ink against paper filling the quiet room.
"But deep down, you already know, don't you? Whether you live or die… it depends on my mercy. That's an unshakable fact."
Aizen's voice softened, but the edge behind it remained sharp.
"While I respect human courage, Sakumo-kun, I suggest you don't mistake my patience for weakness. If you do, things will turn ugly. Surely you wouldn't want your son to see his father like that, would you?"
"…"
Faced with the blunt threat, Hatake Sakumo said nothing.
Once hailed as the mightiest shinobi in Konoha—stronger even than the Three Legendary Sannin—he now stood in silence before a man who didn't even bother to face him.
And yet, he didn't argue back.
Because he knew that while Aizen was arrogant, hypocritical, and ruthless, what he said was, more often than not, true.
Aizen had no need for lies. He never hid behind comforting illusions.
Sakumo's feelings toward him were complicated. Unlike Dan or Kagami, Sakumo wasn't driven by ideology or clan loyalty. He valued friendship, loyalty, and the Will of Fire—but more than anything, he had wanted Konoha to become a haven for its children.
Dan was Tsunade's lover, tied to the Senju. Kagami was a proud Uchiha. Both had reasons to resist Aizen's reforms, to see him as a threat.
But Sakumo? He had no such excuse.
He had taken his own life. And yet, he lived now only because of Aizen.
Aside from his arrogance and sharp tongue, everything Aizen had done since arriving had been undeniably good for Konoha.
Kakashi was safe. No one bullied him. The village hadn't fallen into chaos after Sakumo's death. Instead, Aizen had quietly steered it toward recovery.
He revitalized the economy, strengthened the military, weakened the influence of the noble bloodline clans, and promoted capable young ninjas based on merit. He even introduced programs to address the psychological toll of battle—the Will of Fire Fund, the Team Cohesion Program, and the Comrades' Relief Initiative.
Under his guidance, the village began to heal.
Sakumo couldn't deny it. Aizen was doing what others could not. Even from a leadership standpoint, he was second only to the Hokage himself.
Perhaps the others should have listened to him instead of obsessing over family prestige and internal politics.
Dan's loyalty to Tsunade bound him to the Senju. Kagami's Uchiha pride bound him to his clan. Neither would ever accept Aizen's reforms.
But Sakumo? Did family honor or lofty ideals truly matter anymore?
Maybe once they did. Once, he had lived for those values.
But now—after seeing his son's silent suffering, his neglected grave, and hearing the cold gossip that followed him in death—he could no longer pretend.
Others had abandoned missions for the sake of comrades and were hailed as heroes. But when he did it, he was branded a disgrace.
Because he wasn't just anyone. He was the White Fang of Konoha.
And the White Fang was not allowed to fall.
Even now, he couldn't accept a man like Aizen running loose in Konoha. Yet strangely, he no longer felt the same burning hatred.
He had no real reason to kill him.
"It seems you've realized it," Aizen said suddenly, his voice cutting through Sakumo's thoughts.
"What you hate isn't my actions or the changes I've brought. What you fear… is me."
Aizen pushed his glasses up and neatly filed the documents into place.
"You're afraid because I possess both power and intellect far beyond your comprehension. You don't understand what I am, and humans fear what they cannot understand."
He turned slightly, his tone smooth as glass.
"People cling to what's familiar, to the world they know. Even when they realize that world is flawed, they refuse to let go—because the unknown is far more terrifying."
"So your fear, your hesitation, all of it stems from that. You're familiar with Konoha. With the Will of Fire. But tell me, Sakumo-kun—are you truly familiar with them?"
He leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidded with amusement.
"Perception and ideology shape your behavior. So I'll give you a suggestion—try to see this village from a new perspective."
"…"
Sakumo frowned. "You mean my current troubles come from misunderstanding Konoha itself?"
"I mean," Aizen replied smoothly, "that you should see Konoha not as the White Fang, but as Hatake Kakashi's father. Only then will you understand what this village truly is."
He smiled faintly, his tone both kind and cruel.
"I look forward to hearing your thoughts when that time comes."
Sakumo stood in silence, his expression unreadable.
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