Chapter 71 – A Hero's Treatment
With the arrival of spring, the streets of Konoha once again bustled with villagers.
Where there are more people, there are more tongues wagging. And where gossip gathers, rumors thrive.
Lately, two new tales had spread widely:
The first was about Tsunade-sama and her disciple, whispered in hushed tones… but quickly refuted by Hiruzen Sarutobi himself, so it was likely false.
The second, however, had no one coming forward to deny it—rumors that Konoha's White Fang had failed a mission, killed a comrade in frustration, and lost his arm as karmic retribution.
That silence made it clear—it was true.
Of course, it was Danzō's handiwork again. The same ruthless political move. From the moment White Fang personally struck down Shimura Hanegawa, he had branded himself as Danzō's political enemy. There was no going back.
To borrow a famous line: This isn't a dinner party—it's a struggle where only one side survives.
The rumor was still fermenting, but its effects had already begun to take root.
---
At the Hatake compound, Sakumo Hatake sat quietly. With only his left hand remaining, he traced the edge of his short blade—the chakra-forged tanto that had earned him the title White Fang.
Metal capable of conducting chakra was rare, and this blade's worth exceeded the lifetime earnings of most jōnin.
Yet now, such a fine weapon had no right hand to wield it.
For a swordsman, losing his dominant arm meant inevitable decline. As for retraining his left hand… no. The name White Fang should not be tarnished by a clumsy shadow of its former self.
With a quiet sigh, Sakumo shifted his gaze to the cradle nearby, where his infant son lay sleeping peacefully. Kakashi Hatake—the only family left to him since his wife's passing during childbirth.
When Kakashi grows up, I'll entrust White Fang to him.
Sakumo made up his mind.
---
"Damn White Fang! You killed your own comrade—how do you even have the face to come back here?!"
Rotten vegetables and eggs flew over the compound wall. The Hatake clan shinobi on guard immediately leapt out, capturing the unruly villagers in moments.
Sakumo, expressionless, kept his eyes on the blade across his lap, unmoved.
"Pah!"
One of the captured villagers, wearing a coarse hemp shirt, spat deliberately—his spit landing squarely on the treasured tanto.
"You—!" The Hatake guard roared, raising his fist in anger.
"Enough." Sakumo lifted his left hand to stop him.
"What are you pretending for?!" the villager sneered. "Lord Shimura Hanegawa was an honorable shinobi—why did you kill him?! Your Hatake clan has no conscience!"
"And you call yourself a protector of Konoha? Protect what? Didn't the Rain ninja blow up the dam under your watch? Don't you know the refugees downstream are selling their own children just to survive?!"
The accusations came like arrows. At first, Sakumo remained unmoved, for his conscience was clear. But at the second charge, his eyes lowered, and shame flickered across his face.
The villager wasn't wrong. He hadn't protected Konoha as he should have. Because of his failure, many had died.
Sakumo's silence emboldened the man further, and soon his insults turned more vicious, more personal.
---
"What do you think you're doing?"
A calm, clear voice rang from above.
The villager and Hatake guard looked up to see two masked ANBU perched on the rooftop—one wearing a fearsome Hannya mask, the other a radiant sun mask—both tilting their heads as they stared down.
Ren Minamoto had arrived. Since stepping inside, he had listened to the insults hurled at Sakumo. And Ren, for all his sharpness, could not stand to see a hero humiliated.
His question carried the weight of judgment, though he did not direct it at the villager, but at the Hatake guard.
"I'm asking you—what is your duty?"
Ren raised his hand, coldly pointing straight at the guard.
"M-me? I'm responsible for guarding the Hatake compound… keeping it safe…" The young shinobi's voice faltered.
"Then is it safe now?" Ren tilted his head.
"S-safe… N-no, not safe…" the guard stammered.
"Pah, why trouble a mere genin?" Sakumo frowned. "He only graduated last year."
Ren snorted. "Spare me. I was on the battlefield a year after graduating. If he can't even tell safe from unsafe, he'll die before he ever learns what real combat is."
He and Minato Namikaze leapt down from the rooftop, circling around Kakashi's cradle and teasing the baby.
So this was Hatake "Fifty-Fifty" himself. As a child, Kakashi was already strikingly handsome—perhaps one day he might even rival Ren in charm.
"This is my son," Sakumo said softly, his voice gentler now. "Kakashi. Just turned one."
"Why not let him call me godfather?" Ren chuckled. "Neither Minato nor I have children yet. And this kid's got talent."
Minato nodded in agreement.
But Kakashi only stared at Ren's fearsome Hannya mask—and burst into loud wails.
---
Meanwhile, the captured villager and Hatake guard stood awkwardly aside. The once arrogant villager had lost all his bravado with the arrival of the two ANBU.
After all, no ordinary man dared provoke ninja—especially not figures like Ren or Minato. Heroes like Sakumo were easy targets for the mob. But men like these? Untouchable.
As the saying goes: Even a gentleman can be bullied, if done with formality.
The villager dared not speak further. But Ren wasn't about to let him off so easily.
Ren stepped forward until he stood right before the villager.
The reflection of the Hannya mask shimmered in the man's pupils, twisted and terrifying.
"Gojō Ryō, isn't it?"
"Y-yes!" The man in the hemp shirt nodded instinctively.
"I know you. You spoke up for Hanegawa, not out of loyalty or justice, but because every day when he passed by, he bought dried fruit from your stall. He paid generously. Now that he's dead, your profits are gone. Isn't that right?"
Ren's gaze was like a void, a vortex that seemed to drag Gojō Ryō's very soul into it.
"Y-yes—no! No, of course not!" The man nodded before quickly denying it, his words tripping over themselves.
Such a thing could never be admitted aloud.
Ren's tone, however, remained calm and merciless.
"Whether you admit it or not doesn't matter. Because today, you die."
The words fell like a death sentence, his eyes cold and empty as glass beads.
---
Sakumo Hatake stirred slightly, his body rising from his seat. He would not sit idly by and let Hannya commit a reckless act.
"On what grounds?!" Gojō Ryō's voice rose to a shrill pitch, desperate to be heard by every ear in the neighborhood. "Just because I cursed White Fang a few times, I deserve to die? Does Konoha have no laws left?!"
Ren tilted his head, the faintest curve touching his lips.
"Gojō Ryō… tell me. In Year Thirty-Six of Konoha, when your wife went missing—wasn't the case handled by Hanegawa himself?"
Sweat gathered at the man's temples, his jowls trembling. "So what if it was? Lord Hanegawa upheld justice. He was efficient! My wife's killer was caught swiftly!"
Ren gave no rebuttal. He simply drew his blade, Jūan, from its sheath.
"Hannya!" Sakumo barked, his voice sharp with warning.
Ren ignored him. Cold steel pressed against Gojō Ryō's throat as Ren leaned close, whispering into his ear.
"Your wife asked me to bring you a message. In the next life… don't sell her to Hanegawa again."
The blade whispered across his flesh with surgical precision.
Blood erupted in a crimson fountain, spraying from the villager's neck.
"Ugh… ghhh—"
No last words. Only a look of sheer disbelief frozen on his face as he collapsed.
---
"Hannya! Killing a Konoha civilian without cause—you'll come with us."
The moment Sakumo had been slandered, these men were nowhere to be seen. But the instant Ren acted, they appeared like phantoms.
Four masked figures dropped into formation, surrounding Ren.
Their masks bore the feline design of the ANBU, but Ren knew better. These weren't ANBU.
They were Root—Danzō's shadows. Tasked with monitoring White Fang… and now, they had stumbled into something far more interesting.