Qianyu had been keeping up with Miyuki Uzumaki through letters. She'd sent him a detailed account of the shifting winds in Konoha.
Hatake Sakumo had been stripped of all his duties. Confined to his home.
Miyuki had also dug into the source of the rumors about Sakumo. Her investigation led her to three of the four teammates from that fateful mission.
The mission Sakumo abandoned. All five members faced consequences.
One of Sakumo's teammates fumed. He felt the punishment was unjust. The decision was the captain's, he reasoned. He was just a subordinate following orders. Obeying.
Bitter and drunk, he spilled the story.
The other two had been nursing their own resentment, holding it in. Once their comrade broke his silence, they poured it all out. It was Sakumo's call, they claimed. They never wanted to abandon the mission. They were just subordinates. They couldn't defy their captain's order.
Tsugihisa, the man Qianyu had asked Miyuki to watch most closely, was quiet. He'd lost an arm and both legs. His shinobi career was over. After treatment at the hospital, his family took him home to recover. He hadn't been seen since.
But Miyuki had observed the other three teammates were now frequent visitors at Tsugihisa's home.
Qianyu finished the letter. Closed his eyes. Let it sink in.
His own teammates.
A cold, hard knot settled in his chest. Betrayed by the men who stood beside him. All to shift the blame entirely onto Sakumo's shoulders.
And Konoha's leadership did nothing to stop them. Their silence was permission.
If those three were circling Tsugihisa, they were trying to recruit him. To get him to point the finger too.
Once that happened… Sakumo's end was near.
"Time to go back," Qianyu breathed.
He burned the letter. Set out for Konoha.
Six days later.
Dusty and road-worn, Qianyu pushed open his front door. Miyuki was home, between missions.
A brief, warm moment. Then, business.
"Is it true?" Miyuki asked, her voice low. "The rumors about Lord Sakumo?"
Qianyu nodded. "Yeah. It's true."
He laid out the facts.
Miyuki's hand flew to her mouth. "How… How can that be? Was he wrong for saving his comrades?"
"He was right," Qianyu said, his voice grim. "And he was wrong."
Miyuki stared, uncomprehending.
"The Will of Fire Konoha preaches? Saving his team was right. But Konoha's ironclad rule? 'Never abandon a mission'? By that law, he was wrong."
"That rule is terrible!" Miyuki's brow furrowed. "Who could just watch their friend die? No one!"
"Every village is the same, Miyuki," Qianyu explained. "They need a spirit, an ideal, to foster loyalty. Belonging. But they also need tools. Shinobi who will complete the mission at any cost. That contradicts the Will of Fire. So they created a harsh, opposite set of rules. If the mission is trivial, saving a comrade is fine. But if it's critical? Abandoning it to save a friend is the ultimate failure."
"It's a contradiction," Miyuki said, the words sticking in her throat.
"It's pragmatism," Qianyu countered. "Some missions are worth any number of lives. Any sacrifice. Letting a comrade die then is an act for the village. In its own twisted way, that too is the Will of Fire. Sakumo's mistake wasn't unforgivable. And right now, in this war, Konoha needs his strength."
"Then why let the rumors spread?" Miyuki's head spun.
"Maybe they can't stop it," Qianyu mused. "The whole village is on edge. They need a pressure valve. And deep down, many already disagree with Sakumo's choice. The leadership is letting it run its course. A lesson for every other shinobi: see what happens when you break the rule."
That was his best guess. The higher-ups were probably waiting for the storm to pass before quietly reinstating Sakumo.
They never expected the man would choose to fall on his own sword. To become a martyr for the ideal they'd corrupted.
Sakumo's death would cripple Konoha. Their high-tier fighters were already stretched thin. Now they were losing one to friendly fire.
Miyuki sighed. "It's all so… convoluted. Anyway, you should see your student. This is hitting him hard. People point. They whisper whenever he walks by."
"I know," Qianyu said. "I'm going to him now."
A quick goodbye. He headed for the Hatake compound.
He found Kakashi in the training yard.
The boy wasn't training. He was raging. Punch. Punch. Punch. A wooden post took the abuse. No form. No technique. Just raw, frustrated force.
"I never taught you to train like that."
Kakashi's head snapped up. A flicker of light in his eyes—surprise, a ghost of relief—then swallowed by shadow.
"Qianyu-sensei…"
"How is he?" Qianyu asked, walking closer.
Kakashi glanced toward a closed door. "He stays in his room. Won't come out. I bring his meals. He just… lies there. Doesn't answer when I call his name."
"And you?" Qianyu's gaze was steady. "How are you holding up?"
Kakashi forced a thin, brittle smile. "I'm fine."
"Are you?" Qianyu pressed. "Your father. Choosing his team over the mission. Was he right? Or was he wrong?"
Kakashi's breath hitched. He looked down at the ground. The silence was his only answer.
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