Minato's hand remained on the door for a moment.
The wood felt cold beneath his palm.
The house stood completely still.
Too still.
Finally, he pushed the door open.
The wooden frame creaked softly as it moved.
Minato stepped inside.
"Kakashi?" he called gently.
No answer.
The interior of the Hatake home was dim, the curtains drawn just enough to let faint light leak into the room. Shadows stretched across the wooden floor, giving the house an uneasy stillness.
Minato closed the door behind him.
"Kakashi?" he called again, slightly louder.
Still nothing.
A small frown appeared on his face.
He stepped further into the house, his eyes scanning the quiet rooms.
Something felt wrong.
The living room was empty.
Minato moved toward the kitchen.
His eyes immediately caught something unusual.
Two plates rested on the small table near the sink.
Unwashed.
For most families, it would have been a normal sight.
But Minato knew Sakumo.
The man was disciplined to the point of routine.
Unfinished chores were not something he left behind.
Minato's uneasiness deepened.
Then—
He smelled it.
Blood.
Not fresh in the sharp sense.
But heavy.
Drying.
The scent lingered thickly in the air.
Minato froze.
His heartbeat suddenly quickened.
No.
His mind immediately tried to reject the thought forming in his head.
But the smell was unmistakable.
And it was coming from deeper inside the house.
Minato's breathing grew tighter.
"Kakashi...?"
This time, the name came out as a whisper.
Panic began creeping into his chest.
He moved quickly now, following the scent down the quiet hallway.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The smell grew stronger.
Until he finally reached the last door at the end of the hall.
Sakumo's room.
Minato's hand shook slightly as he reached for the handle.
For a brief second, he hesitated.
As if some part of him already knew what waited behind the door.
The door opened slowly.
Minato stepped inside.
The room was Sakumo's study.
For a moment, the sight of it pulled him backwards in time.
This was the room where they had spoken many times before. Where Sakumo had shared stories of missions, of the battlefield, of the long path that had earned him the name White Fang of Konoha.
It was also the room where Minato had often stayed when Sakumo was away on missions.
Babysitting.
Watching over a small silver-haired boy who would sit quietly with a book far too serious for his age.
The memories flashed through Minato's mind in a single breath.
Then reality struck him.
At the centre of the room
Sakumo lay on the floor.
Blood surrounded him.
Dark.
Thick.
A spreading pool across the wooden boards.
For a moment, Minato couldn't move.
His mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing.
Then he saw the second figure.
A small body lay beside Sakumo.
Kakashi.
The boy was unconscious, his face pressed against his father's chest. His small hands still clutched the fabric of Sakumo's shirt as if refusing to let go.
Blood stained his clothes.
Not his own.
His father's.
Minato stumbled forward.
His second step slipped slightly against the blood on the floor, but he caught himself and moved faster.
"Kakashi!"
His voice broke.
He dropped to his knees beside them.
Carefully, he tried to lift the boy away.
But Kakashi's grip was tight.
Too tight.
Like a child trying to hold onto the last piece of the world he had left.
Minato swallowed hard.
Gently but firmly, he pried Kakashi's fingers free from Sakumo's shirt.
It felt wrong.
Like separating something that should never have been separated.
Minato pulled the boy into his arms.
Tears began falling before he even realised it.
"Kakashi... Kakashi..."
He placed a trembling hand against the boy's blood-stained cheek.
"Answer me... please."
There was no response.
Minato closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to stay calm.
Kakashi's eyelids twitched.
Slowly, painfully, the boy opened his eyes.
"...Sensei."
The word came out weak.
Minato looked down at him immediately.
And then—
He froze.
Because the eyes looking back at him were not the eyes of the child he knew.
Minato jolted awake.
His breath came out heavy and uneven.
For a moment, the world around him blurred together, past and present colliding inside his mind.
He looked around quickly.
The familiar shelves.
The quiet wooden walls.
Sakumo's study.
Minato was still sitting on the floor.
The room was empty now.
Long cleaned.
Long silent.
But the memory still clung to the air like a ghost that refused to leave.
Minato slowly raised a hand and ran it across his face.
His fingers came away wet.
Sweat.
And tears.
He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his breathing.
"...I really shouldn't come here this late," he murmured.
After a moment, he pushed himself up from the floor.
His legs felt heavy as he walked toward the door and stepped into the night air outside the house.
The quiet of the street greeted him.
Minato paused for a second, then spoke calmly.
"I believe I told the ANBU to stand down."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a shadow dropped silently from the nearby tree.
A masked operative landed lightly in front of him.
The mask carried the design of an owl.
"Owl reporting, Hokage-sama," the ANBU said respectfully.
"My apologies. I was only performing my duty."
Minato look for a moment.
Then he gave a small nod.
"You're dismissed."
The masked shinobi bowed its head.
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
In the next instant, the ANBU disappeared back into the darkness.
Minato stood there quietly for a few seconds longer.
Then he turned away from the Hatake house.
And slowly began walking through the silent streets of Konoha.
Toward home.
Minato finally reached his home.
The village was quiet now. Most lights had gone out, and the night air carried a calm stillness across the streets.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Before he could even remove his cloak, a voice greeted him.
"Welcome back."
Minato looked up.
Standing near the table was his wife.
Kushina Uzumaki.
She wore a small smile.
But Minato immediately saw it.
The smile didn't reach her eyes.
It was forced.
Sad.
"...You're still awake," Minato said quietly.
Kushina nodded.
Minato stepped further into the room.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Minato looked directly into her eyes.
"You heard about it too."
Kushina's gaze dropped toward the floor.
"...Yeah."
The single word carried more weight than a long explanation.
Minato slowly looked around the house.
The silence felt heavier now.
"...Where is he?" Minato asked.
Kushina answered softly.
"He cried himself to sleep."
Minato's eyes lowered.
"Oh."
He turned his head slightly, trying to hide his expression.
But Kushina noticed.
She stepped forward.
Before Minato could say anything, she wrapped her arms around him.
"Let it out," she whispered gently.
"Let it out, love."
The moment the words left her lips
Minato broke.
All the calm he had held together throughout the day collapsed inside his wife's arms.
His shoulders trembled.
The Hokage.
The Yellow Flash.
The man everyone believed was always composed.
Now simply a grieving friend.
Kushina held him quietly.
She didn't speak.
She just let him cry.
After some time, Minato's breathing slowly steadied.
His voice came out quiet and fragile.
"...Did I fail him?"
Kushina didn't answer with words.
Instead, she gently lifted her hand and brushed his hair aside.
Then she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
Without another word, she took his hand and led him toward their room.
Sometimes comfort didn't need answers.
Sometimes it was enough just not to be alone.
Across the village, another home stood beneath the silent night.
The Uchiha compound.
Tall walls surrounded the district, lanterns burning quietly along the paths. The houses were large, proud structures that reflected the strength and legacy of the clan that lived within them.
But tonight
Everything felt quieter.
Heavier.
Fugaku Uchiha stepped through the gate of his home.
The large house, which usually felt spacious and dignified, seemed strangely small tonight.
The silence pressed against the walls.
Fugaku removed his cloak and walked deeper into the house without a word.
His steps carried him down the familiar hallway until he reached the room at the end.
His son's room.
He opened the door quietly.
Inside, a soft lantern cast a gentle glow across the room.
On the futon, a small figure slept peacefully.
Beside him sat his wife.
Mikoto Uchiha looked up as Fugaku entered.
"Welcome home," she said softly.
She studied his face for a moment before speaking again.
"Should I prepare something for you to eat?"
Fugaku lifted a hand slightly.
A silent refusal.
"No."
He stepped closer to the futon.
For a moment, he simply stood there, looking down at the sleeping boy.
Then he sat beside him.
Fugaku placed a hand gently against his son's forehead.
The boy stirred.
Slowly, his eyes opened.
"...Dad?"
Fugaku nodded once.
"Yes."
Sasuke rubbed his eyes slightly, still half asleep.
Then he spoke again, hesitantly.
"Will... you train me tomorrow?"
Fugaku looked at him for a moment.
The request was simple.
But the meaning behind it was clear.
The world outside was changing.
Even children could feel it.
"...Yes."
The answer came calmly.
Neither father nor son was good at showing emotions.
So the moment passed quietly.
Sasuke nodded slightly and closed his eyes again.
Within seconds, he drifted back to sleep.
Mikoto shifted closer to her husband.
She rested her head gently against his shoulder.
Her hand reached for his and squeezed it softly.
Fugaku said nothing.
He simply took a slow, deep breath as he looked down at his sleeping son.
The night continued quietly around them.
But inside the house
Everyone understood that something in the village had changed.
The bar slowly emptied as the night grew deeper.
Laughter that once filled the room had faded into quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses being cleaned behind the counter.
One by one, the shinobi gathered there began to leave.
Obito Uchiha stood from his chair and stretched slightly.
Beside him, Rin Nohara finished the last sip of her drink.
Across the table, their friends were preparing to leave as well.
"See you tomorrow," Guy said.
Obito gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
They said their goodbyes quietly and stepped outside into the cool night air.
The village streets were nearly empty now.
Lanterns flickered softly along the path as they walked together.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
Both of them carried the same thoughts from the night.
The same memories.
The same questions.
After a while, they reached their small home.
Obito slid the door open and stepped inside.
The house was simple.
Not large like the homes of clan heads or high-ranking shinobi.
Just enough space for the two of them.
Rin closed the door behind them.
They moved through the quiet house, changing into simple clothes before settling onto the futon.
Obito lay down first.
Rin followed, lying beside him.
Without thinking, their arms naturally wrapped around each other.
Two bodies seeking warmth in the quiet darkness.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another.
No words were needed.
Everything they felt was worry, exhaustion, and the weight of memories was already understood.
Rin rested her head lightly against Obito's chest.
Obito tightened his arms slightly around her.
Outside, the wind moved softly through the trees of Konoha.
Inside their small home, the two of them slowly drifted into sleep.
For tonight—
Being together was enough.
Far from the peaceful lights of Konoha, beyond its forests and mountains, another land slept under a very different sky.
Rain fell endlessly there.
Cold.
Relentless.
The Hidden Rain Village stood beneath iron towers and rusted pipes, its narrow streets echoing with the constant sound of falling water.
Rain fell endlessly over the Amegakure.
Cold rain struck iron towers and rusted pipes, running through narrow streets that never truly saw sunlight. Thunder rolled quietly across the dark sky while the village remained trapped beneath its endless storm.
Deep beneath the city, hidden within layers of steel and stone, a cavern stretched into the earth.
A figure stepped inside.
Water dripped from the edge of his cloak as his footsteps echoed across the wet stone floor.
A voice rose from the darkness.
"So... how was the mission, Hatake?"
The man stopped.
Silver hair caught the dim flicker of a lantern.
Kakashi Hatake lifted his head slightly.
"...Failed."
His voice carried no frustration.
No shame.
Only calm.
He moved toward a long stone table carved into the centre of the cave.
Around it sat several figures.
Each was wearing the same cloak.
Black cloth marked with red clouds.
The infamous organisation known across the shinobi world—
Akatsuki.
Some of the figures watched silently.
Others sat motionless like statues.
Kakashi reached the empty seat prepared for him and sat down.
"But both targets are dead," he continued.
"The Ice Kekkei Genkai user sacrificed himself for his master."
One figure nodded slowly.
Another leaned forward slightly.
Most showed no emotion at all.
Rainwater dripped slowly from the cave ceiling.
Kakashi rested one elbow on the table.
For a moment, his gaze drifted to the faint blood stain still visible on his glove.
Haku's blood.
Then he looked back up at the gathered figures.
"It does not affect the primary objective. So, let's continue what we want because in the end, it's all for"
The room fell completely silent.
Then, almost ritualistically
Every voice in the cave spoke together.
"For a better time..."
"...and a better world."
Kakashi leaned back slightly in his chair.
His expression remained unreadable beneath the mask.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Endlessly.
That same night, the village of Konoha slept beneath a quiet sky.
In one house, the Hokage rested in the arms of his wife, carrying the weight of someone he could not save.
In another, a clan head sat beside his sleeping son, wondering what kind of world that child would grow into.
And in a small home across the village, two former teammates slept side by side, finding comfort in each other's silent presence.
Across the village, the lights slowly went out.
But somewhere in the darkness of the shinobi world—
A boy had lost his father.
A hero had fallen and become far more dangerous
And far away, in a cave hidden beneath endless rain...
A man who once carried the name Hatake walked a path no one in Konoha could yet understand.
Across the shinobi world, whispers had already begun to spread.
Some called him a ghost.
Others spoke of him like a mistake that should never have existed.
A shinobi without purpose.
A demon wearing the shape of a man.
A shadow walking between villages without loyalty, without a home.
To some, he was a curse born from a fallen legend.
To others, he was simply proof that the shinobi system itself had created something it could no longer control.
They called him many things.
A lone wolf of the Hatake clan.
A man rejected by friend and enemy alike.
A warrior who walked neither in light nor darkness.
But along the thin edge between both.
A shinobi who had left everything behind
His village.
His comrades.
His past.
And perhaps even himself.
Yet no matter how far he walked...
No matter how many names the world gave him...
History would remember only one.
Hatake
Because from this moment forward
The TALE OF THE LAST HATAKE had truly begun.