Little baby drabble...with Kakashi!
In the Firelight
Sakumo looked at his son, the boy who had grown into a man in his absence. He still wore the mask that covered most of his face, but Sakumo could still see the toll the shinobi lifestyle had taken on him. He was almost thirty, and yet the depths of his dark eye held the lackluster glint of someone far older, someone who had seen terrible things, just as Sakumo had before ending his own life.
Kakashi had been his greatest regret.
It wasn’t that he resented having a child. He loved his son more than he could ever convey, but Konoha’s White Fang died knowing Kakashi had hated him for what he had done, despised him because the boy could not understand that rules, though important, sometimes had to be broken in order to save those you cared about.
And yet, Kakashi’s lips curved into a slight smile beneath his mask as they sat together in silence, firelight sending dancing shadows across his features. Sakumo could hardly believe his own ears when his son spoke softly.
“I’m proud of you now.”
Kakashi had learned what his father had longed for him to understand, but could not teach, could not explain. His son, seasoned by the painful losses of his own comrades now understood that the world was not painted in stark shades of black and white, but in gray that had to be discerned. Rules would be broken, people betrayed, but in turn, others that might have died would be saved.
The heaviness of despair and regret seemed to evaporate, leaving Sakumo cleansed as the person he cherished most stared into the fire, saying the words he had needed to hear so badly, but never thought would ever fall from his lips.
At last, Sakumo had his son’s forgiveness.