New Paths

Sakumo walked tensely through the camp, his movements precise and controlled, but inside, a storm was raging. Behind him followed Kakashi and Shikato, though his mind was still caught up in the conversation with his son. He struggled to calm the turmoil within and regain control over his emotions, but it was no easy task. The talk with Kakashi had taken an unexpected turn, cutting him deeply. The idea that Kakashi was willing to turn to Danzo if necessary had struck a blow he hadn’t anticipated. For a brief moment, he’d lost control—something that almost never happened.

Sakumo could feel the tension in his body as he took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. But the idea of Danzo, and what it could mean for Kakashi, refused to leave him. His son was the most precious person in his life. He had to protect him—even if it meant making decisions Kakashi might not understand.

He’d spent the entire night awake, pondering how to handle the situation and what consequences it might bring. He’d concluded that the best course of action was to correct his own mistakes by giving Kakashi a chance to be a child again. Back at the Academy, surrounded by other kids, Kakashi might learn what he had missed by growing up far too soon.

Sakumo had considered every possibility, hoping he could reason with Kakashi in a calm discussion. But now it was clear how naive that plan had been. Kakashi was no longer the child he had imagined in his mind. A bitter feeling crept in—not towards Kakashi, but towards himself. He should have thought more deeply about the situation, but in his desire to protect Kakashi, he had lost sight of reality.

He had rushed things, and instead of resolving the tension, he had made it worse. Never had he wanted to reach a point where Kakashi and he became estranged. Kakashi was all he had left—his family—and all he wanted was to keep him safe. But now, it felt as though he had failed in that goal and had only widened the gap between them.

A heavy shadow loomed over him as he thought about the possibility that his son might continue to distance himself—and Sakumo could hardly blame him. The idea that Kakashi might no longer trust him hurt more deeply than any wound he had suffered in service to the village.

Just before they reached the tent where the meeting was to take place, Shikato suddenly stopped Sakumo in his tracks. “Sakumo!” he called, his voice firm but calm.

Sakumo paused, turning slowly to glance briefly at Kakashi, whose expression was blank and unreadable. Then he turned back to Shikato and gave a brief nod.

Shikato cleared his throat before continuing, his face serious. “Could we talk for a moment in private?”

Sakumo cast one last look at Kakashi, who stood silently, waiting. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw worry in his son’s eyes. Letting out a quiet sigh, he finally nodded and addressed Kakashi. “Go ahead into the tent. Tell them we’ll join shortly. Sit in the back and stay quiet, Kakashi. Keep out of the discussion.”

Kakashi regarded him for a moment, and Sakumo caught a glimpse of concern in his eyes. After a brief hesitation, Kakashi nodded and disappeared into the tent. Sakumo watched him for a moment before turning back to Shikato. “What’s on your mind? How can I help?”

Shikato stepped closer, raising an eyebrow slightly as he scrutinized Sakumo with a piercing gaze. “That’s what I wanted to ask you,” he replied, genuine concern lacing his voice. “What happened between you and Kakashi?”

Sakumo drew a deep breath, resting a hand against his forehead as though the weight of the past few hours had physically manifested. “I tried talking to him,” he finally murmured, before turning away with a quiet, almost bitter chuckle. “It seems I managed to mess it up spectacularly.”

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the ground as if searching for answers there. Then he looked up at Shikato, who watched him with patient understanding. “I spent the whole night thinking about how to handle this situation. But having Kakashi here, on the front lines—it’s too much. He’s only six. Six! He has no place in this war. He should be at the Academy, playing, learning, being a child. So, I thought the best thing would be to send him back. But I acted too quickly, made a rushed decision, and only made things worse. It’s my fault.”

Sakumo paused, closing his eyes for a moment as if to process his own words. “When I told him my plan, he was anything but agreeable. He... he threatened to go to Danzo if I really sent him back.”

Shikato remained silent for a moment, as though weighing the gravity of the situation. Finally, he exhaled deeply and began speaking in a calm but firm tone. “Recognizing that you made a mistake is the first step,” he said, his serious gaze fixed on Sakumo. “But what made you think it was the right decision to send Kakashi back to the Academy? Do you really believe he could just go back to being a child?”

He paused before continuing, his voice steady but piercing. “When you allowed him to become a Genin, it wasn’t a whim. You did it because he didn’t belong there anymore—because he was bored, unhappy, restless. What makes you think that’s suddenly changed?”

Shikato turned slightly, his eyes sweeping across the camp. “You’re forgetting that Kakashi has a team now. He’s begun to form bonds, to make friends. And what about Minato? Kakashi cares about him, and Minato is just as important to Kakashi as Kakashi is to him. You can’t just come between them and sever that connection. You can’t take him away from what matters to him now.”

Shikato paused and looked directly at Sakumo, his words cutting to the heart. “Put yourself in his shoes. Imagine if, back then, you’d been forced to return to the Academy, losing your team and your sensei. What would you have done?”

Sakumo remained silent for a moment, breathing deeply. His shoulders sagged slightly as his gaze drifted toward the darkening sky, where heavy clouds were gathering. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder echoed. “The only thing I truly want is to protect him,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t bear to lose him, too. He’s... he’s all I have. My only family.”

Shikato’s expression softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on Sakumo’s shoulder. “Then tell him that, Sakumo,” he said gently. “Maybe then he’ll understand why you acted the way you did. Kakashi is smart and remarkably mature for his age. Trust him and speak to him as an equal.” A small smile tugged at Shikato’s lips. “Make him clear proposals—suggest that he stay in the village for now and focus on his training. He wants more than he can currently handle. His place right now is with his team and on missions that match his abilities—not on the front lines.”

Shikato paused, his gaze steady but kind. “And don’t worry too much. I doubt Kakashi was serious about going to Danzo. He’s far too sharp and knows all too well the dangers that would come with such a move.”

Sakumo stared at Shikato, the words resonating deeply. Finally, a faint smile crossed his face, and he nodded. “As always, you’re right,” he admitted, his thoughts straying to the tent where the meeting was about to take place. The urge to speak with Kakashi immediately weighed on him, but he knew the meeting was also crucial. “I’ll talk to him calmly and apologize. I was too hasty and should have thought things through.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked seriously at Shikato. “I’ll never stop wanting to protect him, but I can’t let my care smother him.” He briefly placed a hand on Shikato’s shoulder. “Thank you, Shikato. Without your advice, I might have made an even bigger mistake.”

Shikato smiled knowingly and nodded. “Then let’s wrap this up quickly so you can have that talk with Kakashi.” Sakumo returned the smile, a small spark of gratitude in his eyes.

Shikato waved dismissively, his tone warm and light. “No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.” With a slight tilt of his head toward the tent, he added, “Come on, let’s get this over with.” With relaxed yet purposeful strides, he led the way into the tent.

Taking one final deep breath, Sakumo stepped into the tent, gathering his focus as he moved forward with steady, deliberate steps. All eyes turned to him immediately, but he maintained an unwavering facade, letting his inner tension disappear behind a mask of discipline.

He positioned himself at the table, the maps and reports scattered in disarray before him. Briefly, his gaze lifted, instinctively seeking his son. Kakashi sat at the back of the tent, silent, almost unapproachable, yet his sharp eyes moved attentively over every motion and every word spoken in the room. His expression remained cool and inscrutable, but Sakumo could see his son absorbing every detail.

Sakumo forced himself to set aside thoughts of Kakashi and focus entirely on the meeting. He scanned the faces around the table: Orochimaru, with his impenetrable gaze; Shikato, calm and composed; and the four other advisors, not all of whom were in his favor. Especially the Hyuuga, whose rigid posture and tightly pressed lips made it abundantly clear he viewed hesitation as weakness and was firmly advocating for a direct assault.

Sakumo could almost feel the pressure emanating from the others—the impatient glances, the veiled disapproval. They wanted a swift, decisive solution—a strike that could turn the tide of the battle. But he knew such a move would cost countless lives. The front was unstable, and an ill-considered offensive might shatter the unity of their forces. He had yet to devise the perfect plan, but the risk of acting too hastily was too high. He needed time to find a strategy that balanced success with the safety of their troops.

Restlessly, his gaze flicked back to Kakashi. The boy was observing the proceedings with a seriousness far beyond his years. Sakumo felt the subtle pull of responsibility deep within. The next steps might not only determine the course of the battle but also demonstrate what it truly meant to balance responsibility and protection.

Sakumo let his gaze sweep slowly over those present, taking in their tense, expectant stares before finding quiet encouragement in Shikato’s calm nod. He took a deep breath and began to speak with a steady voice, carrying clear determination that filled the room.

“First, I want to thank all of you for being here today. None of us are unaware of how critical the situation is or the weight of the decisions we must make.” His eyes briefly landed on Orochimaru, who stood with his usual composed demeanor, though a faint tension flickered in his gaze. “Orochimaru arrived yesterday to reinforce us and has already provided a comprehensive report on the events he witnessed on his way here.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “The situation has grown significantly more dire, and I am aware that some of you—” his gaze lingered on the Hyuuga, whose clenched jaw and sharp features left no doubt about his stance “—are advocating for a direct attack. But before we rush into action, we must weigh the risks. There is too much at stake to gamble recklessly with the lives of our people.”

The Hyuuga’s piercing eyes locked onto Sakumo’s, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “That much is clear!” he hissed, his words sharp as arrows. “But surely by now you’ve realized we must act, Sakumo! We cannot afford to wait any longer!”

Sakumo paused briefly, gathering his thoughts, and met the Hyuuga’s fiery gaze with calm resolve.

“I understand your urgency to act,” he began slowly, carefully emphasizing each word to convey the weight of his consideration. “But the question is not if we act, but how. A direct assault would be nothing short of a waste of our forces—a disaster we can foresee. I will not jeopardize the lives of our shinobi on a gamble.”

A murmur spread among the advisors. Some nodded hesitantly, while others exchanged skeptical glances, their attention drifting toward Orochimaru, who watched with an enigmatic, unreadable smile.

“How long do you intend to wait, Sakumo?” the Hyuuga pressed impatiently. “The front will not hold indefinitely!”

Sakumo drew in a deep breath and raised a hand to call for silence. “I propose instead that we organize smaller, targeted operations. We need better intelligence on their movements and a way to disrupt their supply lines—”

“That’s useless!” the Hyuuga interrupted, slamming his hand on the table with a force that made the reports tremble. The air seemed to reverberate with his anger. Sakumo stood firm, his gaze unwavering, even as he realized that any counterargument risked escalating the tension.

"For weeks," the Hyuuga continued in a cutting tone, "we’ve been sitting here doing nothing but waiting for the inevitable while the enemy has already penetrated deep behind our lines. They are preparing for a counterstrike, and we are too paralyzed to act!" His voice was as sharp as a katana, his words razor-edged. "You’re far too naive, Sakumo, to assume leadership in a time like this! A true shinobi, a true leader, must be ready to make sacrifices!"

Sakumo absorbed the accusation, letting it wash over him without letting it seep in. He understood what the Hyuuga demanded, recognized the desire for strength and decisiveness, but he could not betray his principles—not if it meant sending his own men to die. Before he could respond, Shikato stepped in, his voice quiet yet commanding.

"Sacrifices, yes," Shikato said firmly, "but not senseless ones. A leader who gambles with the lives of their shinobi carelessly will soon find themselves without an army."

Sakumo raised an eyebrow as a murmur rippled through the gathered advisors. He cast a brief glance at the maps before him, drew a deep breath, and forced himself to remain composed. Then he raised his hand to silence the room. Instantly, a tense quiet settled over the tent, and all eyes turned to him.

"Tell me," Sakumo began, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge that cut off any hint of objection, "are you prepared to stand before our shinobi and tell them we’re sending them into a hopeless fight? Are you ready to tell them they’ll never see their families again?"

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "I am not. I will not start a war without thoroughly considering every possible option." His gaze moved steadily from face to face, unyielding and resolute. "It may be easy for you to call for a swift battle, but true leadership demands that we seek the best possible solution—not charge blindly into the next fight."

After a moment of strained silence, Shikato cleared his throat and spoke. "Sakumo is right," he began, his voice calm but firm, resonating with authority. "If we act rashly now, we risk needless losses and sacrifice lives without securing victory." He let his gaze sweep over the room, his words lingering in the air. "We must take the time to consider every alternative. There may yet be options we have overlooked."

Orochimaru cleared his throat softly, his slender fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. His cold, penetrating gaze lingered on each advisor as he began to speak, his voice low but commanding. "Time is not on our side," he said, his words precise and deliberate. "We must understand that our enemies will not remain idle. It’s only a matter of time before they outmaneuver us and launch their own attack."

The Hyuuga let out a sharp laugh, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, it seems I’m not the only one here who feels the clock ticking." His eyes narrowed as he focused intently on Sakumo. "You are a shinobi, just like the rest of us. We all know the price we must be prepared to pay—our lives, if necessary—to fulfill our mission. Or do you follow a different set of rules?"

His challenging tone created a palpable tension in the air, his words an open test of Sakumo’s resolve, ready to exploit any sign of hesitation.

Sakumo frowned, his brows drawing together as he prepared to deliver a sharp retort. But before he could speak, Kakashi’s voice unexpectedly broke through the silence.

"I have an idea!"

All heads turned toward Kakashi as he leapt to his feet, his eyes resolute and his face more serious than ever before. For a moment, Sakumo was speechless; his son suddenly seemed like an entirely different person—someone ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with the most seasoned shinobi in the room. It was as if overnight, Kakashi had gained a maturity unimaginable for someone his age.

Kakashi stepped forward to the table, his gaze unwavering, and spoke in a voice that sounded far older than his years. “There might be a way to reach them without suffering heavy losses.”

Before Sakumo could respond, the Hyuuga fixed Kakashi with a piercing glare and hissed, “Stay out of this, boy. This is no playground. I don’t know what your father was thinking, letting you be here in the first place. Sit down and keep quiet.”

The sharpness of his tone cut through the air like a knife, and his dismissive words drew raised eyebrows from some of the other advisors. Yet Kakashi remained unmoved, his eyes flashing coldly as he met the Hyuuga’s gaze head-on.

Sakumo turned to the Hyuuga immediately, his chakra flaring unmistakably and sending a menacing pulse through the tent. “Do not speak to my son like that,” he said, his voice calm but laced with an icy undertone that brooked no argument.

The air in the tent grew heavy with tension as the others glanced nervously between Sakumo and the Hyuuga. It was clear that Sakumo’s patience had worn thin, and he would tolerate no further disrespect toward his son.

“Perhaps we should hear what the young man has to say,” Orochimaru interjected smoothly, his eyes glinting as they rested on Kakashi, who had taken a position beside him. “I’ve spent some time with him recently, and I believe we should give him a chance. He’s more cunning than many here might think.” A faint smile played on Orochimaru’s lips as he studied the young shinobi. His unexpected comment caused the advisors to pause, momentarily uncertain.

Sakumo kept a wary eye on Kakashi, but the boy met his gaze without flinching. In Kakashi’s eyes, Sakumo saw an intensity he hadn’t noticed before—a blend of determination and maturity that seemed far beyond his years. There was something different about him, something that carried an unspoken weight. Sakumo could feel it in Kakashi’s chakra as well—focused, sharp, and nearly adult-like. After a long, silent moment, Sakumo finally nodded. “Alright. What do you have in mind?”

Kakashi gave a small nod, his gaze sweeping over the map until his finger landed precisely on a marked spot. His voice was clear and resolute as he continued, “We need to sneak around and strike their camp from behind. A surprise attack—quick and precise—before they even realize what’s hit them.”

The Hyuuga let out a long, exasperated sigh, shaking his head in impatience. “I feared as much. A child, thinking he can save the world on his own.”

Sakumo ignored the Hyuuga, his full attention fixed on his son. “It’s a possibility we’ve considered,” he said evenly, “but the terrain is too rough. It would be nearly impossible for a full unit to advance undetected.”

Kakashi shrugged lightly, his expression confident and unshakable. “Who said we need to send the entire unit from behind?”

Sakumo’s brow furrowed as he studied his son closely. “What exactly do you mean?” he asked, his tone calm but edged with a hint of concern.

Kakashi stepped closer, his eyes still fixed on the map. “We don’t need everyone,” he continued. “Just a small, select group who can disguise themselves as the enemy. We use the terrain to our advantage, moving forward in small, well-positioned teams. We could outmaneuver their scouts and gain access from within without raising suspicion.”

Sakumo watched the seriousness in Kakashi’s expression and felt a newfound authority emanating from his son. The sharp, almost clinical clarity with which Kakashi presented his plan was striking—especially for someone so young.

“You’re sure this could work?” Sakumo asked, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and doubt.

Kakashi nodded firmly, his gaze unwavering as he elaborated. “If we’re careful, yes,” he said with calm conviction. “We don’t even need a large group. Honestly, one skilled shinobi could sneak into their camp undetected and create just enough of a diversion to draw their attention. That would give our troops the time they need to get into position.”

He lifted his head, his serious gaze sweeping the room as though fully aware of the weight of his words. “It’s all about timing,” he added. “A brief distraction is all we need to tip the advantage in our favor.”

Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, a sly smile curling at his lips. “I assume you’ve already decided who should handle this distraction, haven’t you?” His voice was cool, almost amused, as though he already knew the answer.

Kakashi met Orochimaru’s gaze steadily, his eyes firm yet cautious. “Yes,” he said calmly, a hint of confidence in his voice. “I’ll do it.”

“No way!” Sakumo interrupted sharply, his tone resolute. “You are not going out there and putting yourself in danger, Kakashi!”

His expression was stern and unyielding, but the deep concern in his eyes was unmistakable. The thought of sending his son into the enemy camp as bait made Sakumo’s heart skip a beat.

The Hyuuga gave Kakashi a curious look, his interest barely concealed. “And how exactly do you plan to pull this off?” he asked skeptically. “Distracting an entire camp on your own without being caught—do you really have a plan for that?”

Kakashi held the Hyuuga’s skeptical gaze with a composure far beyond his years. “It’s easier than it sounds,” he began, his eyes gleaming with determination. “You know the terrain around their camp—it’s unstable, rocky, and partially forested. Perfect for hiding.”

He pointed to a spot on the map, a small slope behind the enemy camp. “From here, I can use smoke bombs and noise to create confusion. And I have my pack to help. They can make the whole ruse more convincing. With the right techniques, I can make them think an entire team is attacking from this side.” Kakashi glanced briefly at Orochimaru, who smirked slightly, before continuing. “They’ll figure out it’s a deception eventually—but the few minutes it buys will be enough for our troops to advance.”

Sakumo took a deep breath, his eyes clouded with worry as they rested on his son. “And what if they spot you? If you’re discovered?” he asked quietly, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

Kakashi nodded slowly, as though he had anticipated the question. “I’m faster and smaller than most of them. I know techniques to escape, and I’m willing to take the risk.”

"And your pack?" Sakumo asked gravely, his eyes filled with doubt. "You haven’t been training together long enough… Do you really believe they’re ready?"

His voice was calm but firm, each word weighted with the concern and determination of a father who would protect his son at all costs. Sakumo could not allow Kakashi to take on a risk that neither he nor his pack might be ready to face.

Kakashi met Sakumo’s gaze head-on, his eyes unwavering and full of confidence. After a brief moment of silence, he nodded resolutely. There was a strength in his posture that surprised Sakumo and left him momentarily speechless.

“I’ve trained hard with them over the past few weeks,” Kakashi said calmly, though his voice carried an iron resolve. “They’re ready. And so am I.”

Orochimaru hummed quietly, his finger gliding over the map spread out before him. A faintly amused smile played on his lips as his eyes fixed on a marked spot.

“While he didn’t exactly demonstrate his full potential on the journey here,” he murmured with a hint of dry amusement, “I think this is our best option at the moment. Kakashi has the skill to create the brief distraction we need.”

His tone was composed and calculated, as if he were observing a chessboard where the pieces were already positioned for victory.

The Hyuuga studied Kakashi again, raising an eyebrow. “I’m in favor,” he said finally, his tone clipped and decisive. “This is our best approach for now, and it’s worth trying. Besides…”—his gaze swept appraisingly over Kakashi’s slim frame—“he’s small and agile enough to sneak into their camp from behind.”

He paused, as though weighing the risks one last time, then shrugged. “We have nothing to lose—at least nothing that can’t be resolved otherwise.”

Sakumo clenched his fists, his entire frame tense as he struggled to suppress the emotions boiling within him. “Absolutely not,” he hissed with fierce determination, his gaze burning with protective resolve. “I said no, and that’s final. I will not let my son face such danger.”

Shikato took a deep breath, his gaze steady and piercing as he rested a calming hand on Sakumo’s shoulder. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions,” he said in a quiet but insistent tone. “Perhaps we should take a moment to consider if there’s another way—a less risky option that we might have overlooked.”

His voice was gentle, yet carried a subtle authority that seemed to diffuse the tension in the room. Sakumo hesitated, his gaze shifting to the map as he allowed his friend’s words to settle over him.

The Hyuuga let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “We’ve been running in circles for days, and we’re no closer to a solution. Why delay any longer?” His sharp gaze swept over the gathering. “The majority is in favor, so I see no reason to keep hesitating. And the weather is on our side—it’s dark, with rain on the way. That gives the boy a critical advantage.”

He let a brief pause pass before looking directly at Sakumo. "You're only against it because he's your son. But he's a shinobi like any other, sworn to serve the village. Or do you question that?"

With eyes flashing, Sakumo took a step forward and grabbed the Hyuuga by the collar. His grip was firm, and the tense silence in the tent seemed to make the air crackle.

"That doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch my six-year-old son be sent to war!" Sakumo hissed, his voice trembling with anger.

The Hyuuga held Sakumo's gaze and replied with a challenging glint in his eyes, "Then you should never have allowed him to become a Genin."

Sakumo’s fist trembled with fury, but before he could react, he felt a small hand gently take hold of his clenched fist. Surprised, he looked down and met Kakashi's calm, steady eyes. In their gaze was an unshakable resolve that made Sakumo pause for a moment. "It will be okay," Kakashi said softly, his voice calm but full of trust. "You can trust me."

Slowly, Sakumo released the Hyuuga and then turned to Kakashi. A deep, heavy sigh escaped him as he briefly closed his eyes. With a voice that conveyed both determination and concern, he said quietly, "Everyone leave the tent and prepare. I need a moment with Kakashi." Wordlessly, the advisors rose, each casting their own glance, and left the tent.

But before Shikato could reach the exit, Sakumo stopped him. "Shikato!" he said with a serious look. "I want you to take command at the camp during the attack."

Shikato looked at Sakumo in surprise, his expression full of worry and confusion. He hesitated for a moment before asking in a subdued voice, "And what about you?"

Sakumo turned calmly to Shikato, a faint but determined smile playing on his lips. "I’ll lead the troops. You stay here and coordinate everything from this point."

"Sakumo..." Shikato opened his mouth to object, but Sakumo raised his hand and lightly shook his head, then interrupted him with a serious look.

"We’ll talk later," Sakumo said, nodding to Shikato, who left the tent in silence. A deep sigh escaped Sakumo as he turned back to Kakashi. He took a step closer and looked him firmly in the eyes. "I want you to be honest with me. Are you really ready for what's coming?"

Kakashi nodded with steady determination, and in his eyes burned an unwavering will. "I'm ready," he said in a firm voice. "I promise you I’ll be cautious. As soon as it's possible, I’ll return to the camp with Shikato."

Without another word, Sakumo knelt in front of Kakashi and pulled his son tightly into his arms. Kakashi embraced him just as firmly, and for a moment, they simply held each other, as if the world around them had come to a standstill. Finally, Sakumo slowly released him and gently ran his hand through Kakashi’s hair. "When this is all over, we’ll talk about it calmly," he said quietly. "But I want you to know now how much I love you." With a tender gesture, he placed his hand on Kakashi's cheek and continued, "Take good care of yourself and don’t take unnecessary risks. Your pack will rely on their sense of smell and warn you in time. If it gets too dangerous, stop and pull out."

Kakashi nodded, and in his eyes, a mix of determination and affection reflected. "I'll be careful, I promise," he replied with a serious tone that sounded like that of an experienced shinobi. For a brief moment, his eyes searched his father's, as if he wanted to imprint his reassurance one last time.

Sakumo studied him for a moment longer, and a hint of pride shimmered in his gaze, though worry still overshadowed it. "Good," he murmured finally, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "I trust you, Kakashi. You're stronger and smarter than I ever was at your age. But never forget that you're not alone. Shikato and the whole camp will stand by you."

Kakashi straightened his shoulders and met his father's unwavering gaze before nodding slowly. "I'll come back. I promise you." With those words, he took a step back, his eyes clear and focused, as if already mentally preparing for the upcoming mission.

Sakumo had a hard time refraining from giving him more instructions. But he knew that too much worry and control would hinder his son rather than strengthen him. So he forced himself to support him, just as any shinobi and father had to do.

Slowly, Sakumo stood up and tried to give a reassuring smile, even though the worry inside him pressed heavily. "Rest for a bit while I finish the last preparations. Go to my tent and check your weapons, and don’t forget to replenish your gear pack."

Kakashi nodded calmly, then turned and left. Sakumo watched him go, a feeling of unease gnawing at him that he couldn’t fully explain. Kakashi seemed so composed, so much older and more serious than ever before.

For a moment, Sakumo furrowed his brow. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about Kakashi felt different today—a determination that seemed to overshadow the childlike fire in his eyes.

But Sakumo pushed the unsettling thoughts aside. There was much to prepare, and he needed to focus on what was to come. With renewed determination, he followed Kakashi out of the tent and watched as the boy moved confidently through the camp, each step purposeful and resolute. Shikato joined his side, arms crossed, looking in the same direction.

"He’s truly your son," Shikato remarked calmly, a note of admiration in his voice. "But tell me honestly, do you think he’ll make it?"

Sakumo merely shrugged slightly and kept his gaze on Kakashi, who was steadily making his way through the camp. "There’s no other choice," he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute. Then he turned to Shikato, whose eyes reflected quiet sympathy.

"If he comes back," Sakumo continued with a serious look, "I want you to take him immediately and keep him close. No matter what happens—promise me you’ll watch over him."

Shikato sighed softly, looked briefly down, then nodded slowly. "Of course, you can count on me," he said finally, his voice quiet and serious. For a moment, he studied Sakumo with a probing gaze. "But won’t you tell me what you’re really planning?"

"As soon as the distraction takes hold, I’ll go to Kakashi and get him out of there," Sakumo said with a calm but determined voice. "I won’t just leave him there alone."

Shikato nodded slowly and looked up at the darkening sky, where the first raindrops began to fall. "This is a huge risk, Sakumo," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "By doing this, you're making yourself a target."

Sakumo met Shikato’s gaze, a mix of determination and worry in his eyes. "Perhaps," he replied quietly, "but for Kakashi, I would take any risk."

Shikato turned slightly to the side, though his gaze remained fixed on Sakumo. "I trust you, but take care out there." His voice had a new edge, as though he wanted to say more, but it remained unspoken.

Sakumo gave Shikato a reassuring smile and crossed his arms. "Don’t worry," he said with a slight wink, conveying more trust than words ever could. Then, with determination, he turned and set off to make the final preparations.