Naruto: Starting as the Third Hokage with Tears in His Eyes

Chapter 505 The Silent Handover Between Father and Son

After a brief silence, Kakashi took a deep breath of the cool air, which was mixed with the fragrance of grass and trees, and as if he had made up his mind, he finally moved.

He reached behind his back and, with fluid and solemn movements, removed the short sword, still in its sheath, from his waist.

The scabbard was as white as bone china, gleaming with a warm light in the firelight.

The black bandages wrapped around the handle were replaced by Kakashi himself; they were fine and tight, reflecting the meticulous stubbornness of a young man.

This is the sword of Konoha's White Fang, and also the most cherished honor and companionship of Kakashi Hatake's youth.

Kakashi held the short sword horizontally with both hands and respectfully presented it to Sakumo.

"Oh, Tosang, here's your knife."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally steady, like a mountain stream flowing through the valley, clear and firm, washing away the last trace of youthful naiveté.

Sakumo's gaze remained fixed on the sword, and he did not move for a long time.

His gaze swept over the almost invisible old scratch on the scabbard—a scar left during the last Shinobi World War to cover his comrades.

It's as if you can still smell the blood and smoke that filled the air back then.

Now, the one holding this knife is his own grown-up son.

Sakumo's gaze shifted from the sword to his son's black eyes, which reflected the firelight. There was no reluctance in those eyes, only a solemn sense of relief.

Seemingly understanding the question in his father's eyes, Kakashi straightened his back slightly and added, "Returning it to its rightful owner. Besides, the reward for this mission is enough for me to forge a sword that truly belongs to me."

His words carried a hint of pride that a young person might not easily detect and that they were trying hard to suppress.

"yes."

Sakumo Hatake's voice was soft as he looked at Kakashi and said approvingly, "I heard you were very active on the battlefield. Covering your sword with lightning chakra, you charged through enemy lines and slashed down foes..."

"That's great, Kakashi."

He looked at the short knife.

He personally handed this knife to Kakashi a few years ago, saying at the time, "Keep it safe for me for a while."

Kakashi kept it for several years.

The cloth straps used to store the knife handle were replaced three times, and the white paint on the scabbard turned a warm color from body heat and sweat.

Sakumo Hatake finally reached out his hand.

It was a hand with distinct joints and palms covered in new calluses, the calluses coming from the handle of a hoe and the reins, not the handle of a knife.

His fingertips first lightly touched the cold scabbard, as if probing a long-lost memory, before finally, with an almost unfamiliar gesture, he slowly grasped the hilt.

The residual heat on it belongs to Kakashi.

Warm, carrying the unique, burning vitality of a young man, it penetrated through layers of bandages and reached his palm.

Old friend, it's been a while.

Hatake Sakumo didn't say anything more, but simply took the short sword and, with a crisp click, clipped it back into the spot on his back that had been empty for so long.

The coldness of the blade and the warmth of the earth strangely merged into one at this moment.

Then, he raised his hand, which carried the scent of the fields, and covered his son's signature silver hair, rubbing it vigorously.

"...that farm."

Kakashi's voice was somewhat muffled, as if he wanted to ask something.

"Don't worry, your Uncle Deer Antlers is keeping an eye on things."

Sakumo Hatake smiled, his grip on his palm remaining firm.

"Tosang, your hair is all messed up."

Kakashi staggered from being rubbed, and the tension in his body, the string of ritual that had been taut all along, finally relaxed completely under the warmth of his father's palm.

"Next time we meet,"

Sakumo withdrew his hand, looking at his son's hair that he had ruffled, and the smile in his eyes deepened. "Let me see how much your swordsmanship has improved."

The silent warmth between father and son still lingers in the air.

Just then, a voice with a peculiar rhythm, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, squeezed through the crowd.

"Excuse me—are you Konoha's White Fang-senpai? Yo!"

Sakumo looked in the direction of the sound, his gentle gaze falling on the newcomer along with Kakashi's beside him.

The newcomer was unusually robust, standing out among the generally lean ninjas.

His healthy, dark skin gleamed with an oily sheen in the firelight, and beneath his short white hair was a crookedly tied headband.

But what first caught Sakumo's attention was the knife hanging on his body.

Too much.

Two are at the waist, two are behind the back, two are on the outside of the thighs, and one is placed horizontally at the lower back.

There were seven weapons in total, all of similar length, yet they were strangely integrated with the body, producing only a very slight metallic clanging sound when the user moved, demonstrating the absolute control the user had over both body and weapons.

Sakumo's gaze slowly moved upwards, finally settling on the sunglasses perched on his nose.

It was late at night, yet this person was wearing sunglasses.

"right,"

Sakumo Hatake nodded calmly. "Yes, that's me."

"This is Killer Bee from Kumogakure."

Kakashi added in a low voice beside him, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible helplessness.

"The Eight-Tailed Jinchuuriki."

As soon as Kakashi Hatake finished speaking, Sakumo's heart, which had long been accustomed to the crop growth cycle, suddenly contracted.

The Eight-Tailed Jinchuuriki... Kirabi.

On the battlefield, he unleashed seven swords simultaneously, and it is said that he tore apart many monsters from the Iwagakure squad.

The descriptions of the Eight-Sword Style and Half-Tailed Beast Transformation in the intelligence report flashed by in an instant, only to be suppressed by him again.

Sakumo calmly suppressed the instinctive wariness that belonged to Shiroya.

He noticed that the young face behind the sunglasses was slightly flushed because of his gaze.

This isn't the monster from the intelligence reports at all; it's clearly a... somewhat shy junior?

"senior!"

Killer Bee, seemingly oblivious to the sudden scrutiny, tossed his notebook upside down, his tone as excited as a fan meeting their idol, "I am Killer Bee. I've heard so much about White Fang's incredible swordsmanship, I'm practically hearing it all before my ears! Yeah!"

Even their greetings have rhymes and suffixes.

"oh--"

Sakumo's tone was calm, with the gentleness characteristic of an elder, "So you are the Seven Swords Style ninja who shone brightly on the battlefield."

"that,"

"Senpai Shirai, it's the Eight-Sword Style..."

Killer Bee corrected him quietly, then scratched his head vigorously, seemingly a little embarrassed.