Problems
Sakumo stared grimly at the map before him, his forehead deeply furrowed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pressed his fingers to his throbbing temple. The sharp headache spread through his head, accompanied by a wave of exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. It felt as if problems were brewing like an endless storm above him. All he wished for was the end of this war – to return to his village, to the familiar warmth of home, back to Kakashi.
But they were trapped in a hopeless situation. The troops were stuck, unable to take even a single step forward. The enemy had strategically positioned themselves and blocked the only way, relentlessly besieging them. The Shinobi from Iwagakure had taken control of a crucial route, cutting off their path and making any movement impossible. Two endless weeks had already passed, during which they desperately searched for a way out. Sakumo refused to order a direct attack on the enemy troops. The open terrain meant nothing but death and inevitable loss. Too many comrades would lose their lives, and that was a price he was unwilling to pay – at least not as long as there was still a glimmer of hope for another option.
“What if we take a detour instead of going straight through?” one of the advisors suggested, pointing with his finger to an alternative path on the map, his eyes on Sakumo.
Another advisor, a serious-looking man from the Hyuuga clan, stood with his arms crossed at the table, scrutinizing the group with a sharp gaze. “That would be an unnecessarily long detour, wasting precious time,” he replied coolly. “It’s time we consider a direct assault.” His penetrating gaze finally rested on Sakumo, who silently stared at the map.
Sakumo’s hands clenched into fists, tension evident in his knuckles. For days, the voices had grown louder, increasingly demanding a direct attack. But he knew the consequences all too well and would not allow so many lives to be risked needlessly. “As long as they don’t attack us, we stay on the defensive and wait,” he explained firmly, although he felt the unrest bubbling within him. He struggled to maintain control.
The Hyuuga let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “If we continue to hesitate, it will soon be too late!” he retorted sharply, his eyes sparkling with impatience. “We can’t wait forever. You need to take action!” His tone was demanding, almost accusatory, as he challenged Sakumo with his gaze.
Sakumo immediately fixed him with a cold stare, and his chakra flickered ominously, a clear warning. “Have you even thought about what it would mean to face them in open field?” he growled, each word sharp as a blade. “Iwagakure has the strategic advantage. We would be an easy target, and the blood of our comrades would soak the ground. I will not take that path – and that is my final word!” His voice echoed in the room, unmistakable and final, as he met the Hyuuga's gaze firmly.
Before anyone present could respond, the tent entrance opened, and another figure stepped in. Sakumo's gaze shifted and landed on Shikato, who approached him with a serious expression. “Forgive the interruption, but there’s news that can’t wait,” he said in a calm yet urgent voice, his gaze fixed firmly on Sakumo. Sakumo knew Shikato well enough to recognize immediately that it was indeed urgent – and that what he had to say could decisively change the situation.
Sakumo turned resolutely to the two advisors. “You both are dismissed. It’s getting late, and we will continue our discussions tomorrow.” His voice was firm, and he could feel that the fatigue in their faces also reflected the oppressive tension of the day. The two nodded, their expressions relaxing slightly as they accepted the request and left the tent.
Sakumo watched them go and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. The silence around him was almost tangible, broken only by the soft rustling of the tent walls in the wind. He knew that the coming days would be crucial, and the responsibility for the welfare of his men weighed heavily on his shoulders.
As he turned around, he noticed Shikato still leaning against the tent wall. “What is so important that you interrupt us?” Sakumo asked, his voice now calmer but still filled with anticipation.
Shikato cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking with a serious expression. “We have received reinforcements, and they bring crucial information.” A brief, intense moment of silence settled between them, their gazes locking firmly. Sakumo felt a gnawing sense of dread spreading in his chest – what he was about to learn would undoubtedly bring new problems with it.
Sakumo nodded silently to him, signaling to bring in the reinforcements. They had been waiting for their arrival for a day, and deep down, he feared that they must have been delayed. A faint shadow of worry crossed his mind as he hoped that the delay did not indicate serious problems.
Before Sakumo could think further, Orochimaru entered the tent, his expression dark and tense. He nodded to Sakumo in greeting, and in that moment, Sakumo realized that something serious must have occurred. The ominous expression on the Sannin's face spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation. But just as he was about to find the words, the tent flap opened again, and his heart skipped a beat. Kakashi! Why was he here?
“Kakashi!? What in the world are you doing here?” Sakumo’s voice trembled with suppressed anger, but he gave his son no chance to respond. Instead, he directed his piercing gaze at Orochimaru, who met him with a cool, unruffled expression. “Did you bring him here?” Sakumo continued sharply. “He’s still a child! He has no business on this battlefield!”
Orochimaru remained unfazed by Sakumo’s rising fury. With a slight raise of his eyebrow and a curt nod, he responded calmly. “He asked me to bring him. He was determined to see you, so I brought him along. Now I leave him in your care – it’s up to you to decide what happens to him.” His voice was cold and distant. “The rest he will explain himself.”
With those words, Orochimaru turned his gaze to Kakashi, his eyes fixed on the boy. “Perhaps you’d like to explain what happened on the way here,” he added, his tone simultaneously calm and menacing.
Sakumo raised an eyebrow, his gaze assessing Kakashi, who looked exhausted with dull eyes as he glanced over at Orochimaru. But Sakumo knew his son better than anyone else – something was off. Slowly, he began to move, each step accompanied by silent concern as he scrutinized Kakashi with a watchful eye.
The boy looked drained, as if he hadn’t slept for days. His whole body seemed to sway under an invisible weight, and Sakumo noticed the burned sleeve of his son. Yet, despite his exhaustion, Kakashi bore no visible injuries.
When Sakumo finally stood in front of Kakashi, his son slowly raised his gaze, and their eyes met. The fatigue reflected in Kakashi’s eyes cut deeper than words ever could. Gently, Sakumo crouched down to his son’s eye level and carefully took his arm in his hands. He examined the burned fabric and felt the skin underneath, relieved to find that his initial assessment was correct – no visible injuries.
“What happened?” he asked softly, his voice calm yet firm, like a rock in the surf. He searched for his son’s gaze, trying to see the truth behind the exhaustion. Sakumo wanted, no, he had to know what had put Kakashi in this state.
The tense silence in the tent lasted only a moment before Orochimaru, apparently losing patience, spoke up. “Your son thought it was a brilliant idea to confront four Shinobi on his own and ignore my orders,” he said with a cold sharpness in his voice. “If I had arrived just one second later, he would have died in an explosion – he walked right into one of their traps.”
His words echoed like thunder through the tent, and Sakumo felt a shiver of anger and worry race through his body. He did not take his gaze off Kakashi, but his heart ached painfully. The thought of having almost lost his son felt like a stab to the gut.
Sakumo could not deny the rising anger within him – anger that his son had been so reckless as to put his life on the line. He took a deep breath, striving for a clear head, but his voice came out sharper than he intended. “Kakashi... is that true?”
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his son intently, every muscle in his body tensing up. In that moment, it was not just the concern of a father but also the disappointment of a commander who knew that such mistakes could end fatally on the battlefield.
Kakashi's gaze remained dull and full of exhaustion, as if he were miles away. Sakumo let out a deep sigh; the answer he sought would not come now – not in this state. The journey to the front had clearly taken everything out of his son; his eyes grew heavier by the moment.
Without saying another word, Sakumo gently pulled Kakashi to his chest, disregarding the weak protests that Kakashi still managed to make. Instead, he simply held him tighter, wrapping his arms protectively around him and feeling the warmth of the small body gradually relaxing. In that moment, he was no longer the leader of a squad, no longer the "White Fang of Konoha," but just a father holding his son.
It wasn't long before Kakashi's head lay heavy on his shoulder, and his body went completely limp. The calm, steady breaths that now fell into rhythm revealed that he had finally fallen asleep. Sakumo felt a touch of relief as he gently rocked his son.
Sakumo took a deep breath before slowly rising, carefully cradling Kakashi to avoid waking him. He adjusted his son higher in his arms, feeling the weight now resting on his shoulders – not just the weight of his body, but also the burden of responsibility.
He cast a brief glance at Shikato, who gave him an understanding nod, as if he knew exactly what was going through Sakumo’s mind. Then Sakumo turned his attention back to Orochimaru, whose gaze remained cold and impenetrable.
“I’m surprised you didn’t punish him immediately,” Orochimaru remarked dryly.
Sakumo looked at his sleeping son and let his hand gently glide through Kakashi’s silver hair. It was a gesture of tenderness amid all the chaos, a moment of calm in a world filled with war. Then he straightened up and regarded the Sannin with a piercing look.
“There’s little point in seeking answers now,” Sakumo said quietly, his voice calm but with a barely concealed undertone of accusation. “Tomorrow, when he has recovered, I will speak with him in peace and find out what really happened – and why he is here. But I have a feeling you showed him little mercy.”
Orochimaru's lips twitched slightly, as if he were amused by Sakumo’s accusations, yet his gaze remained cool. “He chose to come with me. I merely showed him what it means to be a Shinobi. It was his choice to push his limits.”
Sakumo scoffed quietly. “He’s still a child. And although he is determined, that doesn’t mean he should already know his limits. I will not allow him to get lost in this war just because you push him beyond what he can handle.”
Orochimaru relaxed against the table, crossing his arms over his chest and casually shrugging. “I believe that’s exactly what he needs here,” he began with a sinister smile that Sakumo knew all too well. “The boy is arrogant, thinks he’s already an experienced Shinobi. Instead of seriously focusing on his training and realizing his true potential, he’s eager to get to the front as if it were child’s play.”
He paused briefly, as if to give Sakumo time to process his words before continuing. “He seriously thought he could take on four Jonin.” Orochimaru let out an amused snort. “If you ask me, he urgently needs to be brought back down to earth. And what better way to do that than to show him that he’s nowhere near capable of keeping up on this battlefield?”
With a deep sigh, Orochimaru ran his fingers through his long black hair and regarded Sakumo with a scrutinizing gaze. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added with a hint of appreciation in his voice, “for his age, he’s exceptional – truly exceptional. But he’s still far from understanding the harshness and brutality of the battlefield.”
His words echoed in the tent, and Sakumo felt the sharp pain of the truth within them. Kakashi was talented, but there were things that even the greatest talent couldn’t replace – experience, maturity, and the ability to recognize the limits of one’s capabilities.
Sakumo let Orochimaru's words hang in the air for a moment, like fine smoke slowly permeating his thoughts. He knew the Sannin was not entirely wrong. Kakashi was gifted, talented, a genius – but that was exactly what made him so dangerous. Talents like his often burned the brightest but also burned out the fastest if not carefully guided.
“I understand what you’re saying,” Sakumo finally replied in a quiet but firm voice. “But my son will not learn life’s lessons in a way that tears him apart. I’m not ready to expose him to a fire he’s not prepared for.”
Orochimaru clicked his tongue, as if he could only shake his head at Sakumo’s protectiveness. “There is no grace period in the life of a Shinobi, Sakumo. He will have to learn sooner or later what it means to stand on the brink of life and death.” His eyes briefly flashed as he continued. “But I leave it to you how you teach him that.”
“And I will,” Sakumo said firmly, the hardness in his voice unmistakable. “Kakashi will find his way, but not through unnecessary recklessness. I will not allow him to be swallowed by the darkness before he understands the light.”
For a moment, silence hung between the two men, an unspoken respect but also a deep understanding. Sakumo had never intended to shield his son from the realities of the world – but he would be damned if he let Kakashi break in those realities.
Finally, Orochimaru nodded slightly, as if he accepted Sakumo’s determination, even if he didn’t necessarily share it. “Then I hope you’re right,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Because this world devours even the strongest if they’re not careful.”
“It won’t,” Sakumo replied, glancing at the sleeping Kakashi in his arms. “Not my son.”
Sakumo turned his gaze back to Orochimaru, his eyes narrowing as he tried to penetrate the Sannin’s true intentions. “You act as if Kakashi doesn’t matter to you,” he began, his voice steady. “But I see it in your eyes, Orochimaru. The boy means more to you than you would ever admit. What you’re trying to do is your way of protecting him – like a teacher who knows he must prepare his student for life, even if it hurts.”
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow slightly, yet his face remained expressionless, an impenetrable mask hiding any emotion. “Interesting interpretation,” he replied coolly, but Sakumo noticed a barely visible twitch cross the Sannin’s lips – an imperceptible crack in the otherwise perfect facade.
“In truth, you want just as little as I do for him to go to the battlefield,” Sakumo continued. “You’re trying to protect him in your own way, preparing him for what’s to come. But I’m sure: you would do anything to prevent him from getting lost on this bloody path.”
A long moment of silence followed as Orochimaru kept his gaze fixed on Sakumo, as if weighing whether to allow himself a hint of humanity. Finally, he snorted softly, his eyes flashing for a brief moment. “So you think you’ve seen through me?” He tilted his head slightly to the side, his voice barely above a whisper yet penetrating. “Maybe… or maybe I simply have no patience for another overconfident boy who thinks he can shape the world with his bare hands.”
Sakumo noticed the brief flicker of uncertainty in Orochimaru’s eyes – barely more than a blink, but enough to confirm his suspicions. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, and Orochimaru donned his familiar mask of indifference. Sakumo knew it was pointless to pursue the matter further; the Sannin would never reveal more than he was willing to share. So, Sakumo let the topic drop and turned to the essentials.
“Perhaps it makes more sense for us to focus on what has happened along the way,” Sakumo said, his tone now factual but laced with urgency. “And whether you truly are the only reinforcements that have reached us.” As he spoke, he carefully adjusted Kakashi in his arms, his grip protective, almost possessive.
He could not deny how much he wanted his son close to him at that moment, how strong the urge was to shield him from the cruel reality of war. The thought of letting Kakashi out of his sight for even a moment tightened his throat. “I won’t let him go,” Sakumo thought with grim determination. “Not now, not here.”
Orochimaru seemed to welcome the change of subject, and without hesitation, he responded. “A squad set out a day before us,” he began, his voice cool and matter-of-fact, “but they apparently fell into an ambush on their way to the front – four Shinobi from Iwagakure. It’s very likely they were all killed.” He paused briefly, as if to emphasize the gravity of his words. “When I finally arrived, there was no time for further exploration. I had to intervene immediately, or else this brat here,” he nodded in Kakashi’s direction, “wouldn’t have had a chance of getting out alive.”
A cold shiver ran down Sakumo’s spine as Orochimaru’s words echoed within him. Instinctively, he pulled Kakashi even closer. Yet outwardly, he showed no sign of his emotions; his face remained calm and resolute – the mask of a leader who does not show weakness.
Shikato broke the silence. “Were they planning to attack the camp from behind?” he asked thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on the map spread across the table. “With such a surprise attack, we would have never seen it coming. They could have caught us off guard.”
“I can’t imagine that,” Sakumo began, a contemplative expression on his face, but his voice firm and decisive. “A four-man squad against a fully staffed camp? That would have been their certain death. No, their goal was definitely not a direct attack.”
He took a brief pause, allowing his gaze to drift across the map. “It’s more likely they wanted to gather information,” he continued, “to identify the weaknesses in our defense lines. They aimed to probe our strengths and weaknesses – and then wait for the perfect moment to plan a targeted attack.”
Orochimaru nodded in agreement, his eyes flashing briefly. “I suspect the same,” he said, a hint of irony in his voice as he continued. “With a bit of luck, your son might reveal more to us. Perhaps he had enough sense to gather some information before throwing himself into his little suicide mission.”
Shikato cleared his throat and stepped forward. “If that’s indeed the case,” he began with a serious expression, “we must assume that Iwagakure is already preparing an attack against us.” His eyes narrowed as he looked directly at Sakumo. “We can’t afford to wait. We need to act – and do so before they put their plan into action.”
Sakumo nodded slowly, his gaze hard and resolute. “So a preemptive strike,” he murmured as he studied the map, weighing the strategic points. “We need to thwart their plans before they have a chance to strike.”
With his eyes focused on the map, Sakumo narrowed them in thought. He knew Shikato was right – a preemptive strike could be the key to bringing Iwagakure to its knees. But the cost would be high, and Sakumo was not willing to risk unnecessary lives. He felt the weight of this decision on his shoulders, as if the burden of the entire war rested solely on him.
“There is always an alternative,” he finally murmured, more to himself than to the others. “But… something about this plan feels wrong.”
“We should expand our defensive perimeter,” Shikato noted pragmatically, his gaze still on the map as he weighed possible points of attack. “We can’t allow ourselves to be that vulnerable again.”
“We will,” Sakumo confirmed, his gaze drifting back to Kakashi, who was still sleeping deeply. “We can’t afford to be unprepared – not anymore.”
Orochimaru watched the scene from the corner of his eye, his arms crossed loosely again. “You may have had some luck,” he remarked, his tone as casual as ever, “but war shows no mercy. It would be wise not to challenge that luck again.”
“That’s not my intention,” Sakumo replied with calm determination, his voice as firm as steel. “From this moment on, we will be prepared for any attack – and we will be ready when it comes.” He took a deep breath, briefly scanning the map before turning to Shikato with a resolute nod.
“I want the guard units reinforced immediately,” he ordered, his words clear and without room for doubt. “We cannot afford any more negligence. Additionally, we will meet tomorrow morning to devise a new strategy. A tactic that will allow us to break this blockade once and for all and push forward.”
He paused as if to emphasize the importance of his next words. “But for tonight, we need to gather our strength. We need everyone at their best. Use this time to recharge. Tomorrow, we move on – and we will be ready.”
Shikato nodded firmly. “I’ll take care of it right away,” he replied, his voice steady.
Orochimaru casually pushed himself away from the table. “Let me know if you need my support,” he said, his voice laced with cool detachment. “For now, I’ll withdraw.” Without another word, he began to move away.
“Orochimaru!” Sakumo called out before the Sannin could leave the tent. Orochimaru paused, turning slowly, his gaze cool and impenetrable, as if he already knew what Sakumo was about to say.
“Thank you for saving Kakashi,” Sakumo said, his voice filled with deep sincerity. “I owe you one.”
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, a bemused grin flitting across his lips. “Coming from you,” he replied with a hint of skepticism, as if he could hardly believe what he had just heard.
He turned halfway, casting one last penetrating glance over his shoulder, and added, “I’ll hold you to that; I promise.” With those words, he disappeared from the tent.
Shikato gave Sakumo a scrutinizing look. “Do you really trust him?” he asked, his voice calm but with a touch of concern.
Sakumo offered a weak smile as he soothingly stroked Kakashi’s back. “I know that one should never take their eyes off Orochimaru,” he said thoughtfully, “and that one must approach him with utmost caution.”
His gaze softened as he looked down at his sleeping son. “But something tells me that Kakashi is indeed important to him, even if he would never admit it.” With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Sakumo turned to Shikato and winked. “You know, my gut feeling is rarely wrong.”
With an amused smile, Shikato shook his head. “Yes, yes, I know your gut feeling, Sakumo,” he replied with a chuckle. But his expression quickly turned serious as he focused again on the sleeping boy in Sakumo’s arms. “But tell me, what do you plan to do with Kakashi?”
Sakumo shrugged lightly, his gaze becoming contemplative. “To be honest, I don’t have a solid plan yet,” he admitted finally. “At the moment, there are no planned returns to the village, so I have little choice. Sending him back alone is not an option – that would be far too dangerous. He will stay by my side for now, but I will make sure he doesn’t move without supervision.”
He paused, running a tired hand over his face and sighing deeply. “Tomorrow, I’ll talk to him, find out what happened on the way here and why he’s even here at all. I can’t imagine Minato would have let this slip. Kakashi probably ignored him or went around him.” A hint of worry crept into his voice as he added, “It’s important that we don’t attract unnecessary attention. If the enemy finds out my son is here, it could become a problem. We mustn’t give them any further advantage.”
“They might try to use Kakashi against you,” Shikato concluded soberly, his tone taking on a serious, warning note. “We’ve talked about it often – he’s your greatest weakness. You’ve always tried to keep him hidden from the world, but here, at the front, that could become much more difficult.” He paused briefly to let the weight of his words sink in. “The danger is real, Sakumo. You know how ruthless the enemy can be when they scent weakness.”
Sakumo fell silent, nodding only in response, the weight of the concerns heavy on his shoulders. Shikato seemed to sense the unspoken tension and shifted the topic. “Don’t worry too much,” he said soothingly. “I’ll take care of everything else. You should try to get some sleep now. I fear the coming days will be exhausting.” With those words, he turned away and stepped out into the cool night, leaving Sakumo alone with his thoughts.
Sakumo lingered for a moment, holding Kakashi tightly and savoring the closeness of his son. Despite the rising anger over the fact that Kakashi was here and the circumstances that had led to it, worry also grew within him. Since his son’s birth, Sakumo had done everything to keep his existence a secret from the other villages. He wanted to ensure that Kakashi wouldn’t become a target at any cost.
But now, amidst the turmoil at the front, that seemed an almost impossible task. Rumors could spread quickly, and Sakumo knew he could not afford to be negligent. He was determined to protect his family at all costs.
With a deep sigh, Sakumo adjusted Kakashi and then set off. Shikato was right – he desperately needed sleep. Everything pointed to an imminent battle in the coming days, and they needed to be well-prepared. Sakumo would not stand idly by; he was resolute in fighting on the front lines when it came to it. But for now, it was time to retreat to his tent and find some rest. Kakashi would sleep beside him, and the next morning, a serious conversation with his son awaited that could no longer be postponed.