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"This boy will be a worthy rival for you."
Guy is too young to fully appreciate a compliment from Konoha's White Fang — the name of this legendary shinobi means little to him yet. Guy has one goal: to enter the Academy. Everyone else made it. Genma Shiranui made it. That loser Obito Uchiha made it. Asuma Sarutobi, the Third Hokage's son, obviously made it.
"You're no worse than any of them," his father repeats to him. "Your Springtime of Youth will simply come later. Everything in its own time."
It brings little comfort, especially after taking a look at that diligent little genius with the masked face — always gloomy, always scowling. But his father reminds him of Sakumo Hatake’s words again. The very name Hatake serves as a reminder of Guy's own insignificance, yet at the same time, it offers hope.
"Thank you for the support."
"Thank you for the support," Might Duy wants to say. "Thank you for encouraging my son. You have no idea how rarely he gets to hear things like that."
(Almost never.)
In all his six years of life, Might Guy had almost never heard a word of praise from anyone. Except his father. And Sakumo Hatake.
"What did he do?" Guy asks, glancing at the hunched man who is no older than his own father, yet now looks nearly twice his age. What could this gray-haired old man have done — someone who, just a couple of weeks ago, was a strong, powerful warrior?
Might Duy remains silent.
He and Sakumo Hatake had only met a few times, but Sakumo was one of the few villagers in Konoha who never laughed at Duy. The playground is spacious today; there aren't many children around. Duy remembers how his own generation had nearly twice as many kids. Some of them he can no longer recall — they died on missions or during the war. With others, ties were simply severed; after all, who needs the company of an Eternal Genin with no hope of career advancement?
"Aren't you truly ashamed to sit next to me?" Duy wished he could ask. But instead, he says, "Fine boy you have there. Quick and clever."
"Mine?" Sakumo asks. "A brilliant little guy. I adore him."
Of course. Every parent adores their child. Duy has no other family left, no woman who gave him his son. Sometimes it is hard for Duy to fathom how anyone could fail to love their own child — the only close bond left in his world.
"I wanted to say thank you. Guy told me how Kakashi beat up those two chunin. Said they were insulting both me and him, and Kakashi stood up for us. Though Guy still hasn't figured out why — whether to teach those boys a lesson or just to show off..."
"Well, Kakashi does love doing that," Sakumo chuckles softly. "Or maybe his sense of justice kicked in. Sometimes he reads a story and comes to me saying, 'This character acted unfairly! Why weren't they punished at the end?'"
Sakumo laughs — a quiet sound, like the creak of an old door hinge — before breaking into a dry cough.
"Thank you for raising him that way," Duy says, lowering his eyes with a gentle smile.
Sakumo sighs.
“Dad, let's go already!" Duy hears a bright, clear young voice, and Sakumo slowly rises from the bench. He walks over to the child, who looks tiny beside him, and ruffles his thick, pale hair. Off they go — a father who wears his heart on his sleeve, and a son whose face is hidden away from the world.
Might Duy sighs. Their green jumpsuits — his and Guy's — can probably be spotted a mile away and draw smirks from almost every passerby. But Sakumo Hatake doesn't laugh; he merely gives a respectful nod, though he rarely shows himself in public these days anyway. Duy bows his head in silent understanding. Duy thinks that raising children together would have been easier.
Duy thinks. Duy observes carefully. Duy stays quiet. Duy's heart pounds in his chest as he stares at Sakumo's long, snow-white ponytail.
A chill runs down Guy's spine. The Sakumo Hatake he remembers — confident and bright — is now staring right past him with bloodshot eyes, as if he had awakened the Sharingan overnight and used it twice in a row. The Hatake clan had always struggled with small chakra reserves.
"Hey there." A smile comes to Sakumo with great effort. "Is your father home? Can I speak with him?"
Guy blinks.
"He finally got a mission!" Guy announces proudly. "Dad will be back soon, but I'm not totally sure... what if the mission takes longer..."
He speaks the word mission with such deep pride in his voice that Sakumo can't help but smile. But his smile is fragile, and tiny tears glisten in the corners of his eyes.
"A mission, huh... that's good. Wish your father luck."
Guy sees the hunched back, the thinning (or is it just his imagination?) white ponytail, the slightly trembling hands. He sees it all. And he rushes back inside.
The next morning, no one can talk about anything other than Sakumo Hatake.
"Who leaves a child like that? He's so young, only six years old!"
"Serves him right! I haven't slept in months just trying to feed my family!"
"I actually feel bad for him. Imagine having the whole village turn against you..."
"I never trusted him anyway. 'Legendary shinobi,' my foot..."
"I just hope Kakashi can wash away his father's disgrace."
"Dad..."
"Hm?"
"What happened to Kakashi's dad?"
Might Duy's lips quiver.
"He's gone."
"Gone...?"
"He died."
"But what about a funeral?" Guy vaguely recalls a time a few years back when one of the elders passed away. "He's a legendary shi... he was a legendary shinobi..."
Might Duy cannot find the words to explain that for Sakumo Hatake, the village would never hold a funeral.
Later, Guy finds Kakashi near his house. He is sitting on the doorstep, knees pulled tightly to his chest, facing the front door. His shoulders are shaking.
Now, all these years later, Guy is almost afraid to look Kakashi's way. When he looks at Kakashi, he sees his father — that Sakumo Hatake he remembers so vividly from his final day. A slumping Sakumo Hatake with red eyes, a weary gaze, and trembling hands and lips. Maybe he had been crying before that moment. Just like Kakashi. Guy hasn't seen Kakashi cry since that day, but he can feel it — he has. Many times.
There was darkness inside Sakumo Hatake.
Whatever Kakashi was like before, he changed drastically after Obito's death. Guy watched him from afar — Guy was terrible at hiding, but Kakashi only ever saw the inscription on the black memorial stone. Nothing else. Friends, classmates, the Hokage — it felt as though everything else had ceased to exist for him.
"Shall we spar, my rival?!" Guy places his hands behind his back to stop himself from slapping Kakashi on the shoulder out of habit.
Silence. No annoyed grumbling, no sigh, nothing that would give him away.
These days, Kakashi hides his face behind two masks — and perhaps he finds comfort in that. Guy's eternal rival barely fights back anymore because he is practically collapsing from exhaustion. ANBU work is brutal, especially on the mind, and Guy would much rather see Kakashi struggling to deal with a team of fresh genin. Instead, he watches Kakashi constantly change his gloves, desperately washing blood off them and off the mask he just replaced.
There is darkness in Kakashi Hatake. Far too much darkness, and Guy cannot stay silent about it.
Did his father see the very same thing in Kakashi's father back then? Sakumo had needed help. Guy feels ashamed even thinking about what thoughts his father might have had about Sakumo, but now, he understands.
Sakumo Hatake needed to be saved. And Kakashi needs to be saved, too.
That lifeless, detached look; those stupid books (of all things — How a Shinobi Should Die); those sluggish movements; the way he ignores every attempt to reach out. Guy would rather see him reading his romance novels. Anything, as long as he keeps reading.
Guy sighs.
"We need to save Kakashi's heart from the darkness, and we need to talk to the Third," he tells Asuma and Kurenai over tea. Teaching genins will do him good.