Tekka slammed the notebook shut, as if afraid something might escape from its pages and consume him from within. He lifted his gaze to meet Akemi's eyes, unable to hide the shock on his face.
She simply shook her head, wearing a melancholic smile — one that carried all the anguish, doubts, and certainties about what that child, Riki, had already begun to write into his own story.
"He's not an ordinary child, Tekka... And what's coming..." she murmured. "Riki already feels it. Long before any of us."
The silence that followed was nearly unbearable.For a moment, it seemed even the war outside had stopped to listen.
Tekka was the first to break the silence, his voice tight:
"What do you mean by 'what's coming'?"
Akemi sighed, casting him a weary glance.
"Tekka, in recent months, Riki's been having recurring dreams. At first, we thought they were just nightmares... but as they began to come true, we realized it was something more. Something prophetic."
She stepped closer and pointed again to the notebook.
"He sees events... continuously. Scenes of war, of battles, of death. If you read carefully, you'll find an account of the battle at Kannabi Bridge — described with such precision, anyone would believe he had been there, among the dead and the surviving."
Akemi placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, a gesture heavy with sorrow.
"Read more, Tekka. Read everything. Then you'll understand…"
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the room. Her footsteps echoed heavily in the silence, while Tekka remained there, alone, with the diary in his hands — and a dark premonition growing in his chest.
He opened to the first page:
The Traps That Took the White FangJanuary, Year 82 After Konoha
On the first night of January, I dreamed.I dreamed of a suspended corridor, wrapped in shadows.
I saw a man marked with an "X" on his chin, leaning on a crutch in his right hand.He stood with his back to two kneeling men — one wearing a bear mask, the other a cat.
The broad-shouldered one, under the bear mask, bowed even further and spoke firmly:
"Reporting to Danzō-sama: Sakumo's popularity has reached alarming levels. Intelligence indicates his name is now the most viable candidate for the Hokage position, supported by the major clans... and also by Konoha's civilian population."
A tense pause followed before the second man continued:
"Reporting to Danzō-sama: Hiruzen's unpopularity has reached its limit. He's lost the support of the main clans. All he has left are Mitokado, Utatane, Kurama, Shimura, Sarutobi, Houki, Onikuma, Inuzuka, Lee, and Aburame."
The man with the crutch was silent for a moment, as if chewing the words with contempt.Then, without turning around, his voice cut through the air:
"So... Hiruzen is isolated.Aside from the minor clans that suck up to the throne, his base is meaningless."
Finally, he turned to face them.His eyes were as cold as steel.
"Listen carefully... we must push Hiruzen over the edge. There must be no chance for him to remain as Hokage."
He pointed to the man in the bear mask:
"You will spread rumors in Konoha. Amplify every mistake, every hesitation. Plant dissatisfaction."
Then to the one in the cat mask:
"And you...Lead a team to sabotage Sakumo's next mission. Make sure he fails disgracefully. Let the mission stain his name forever.I want his downfall... thunderous."
His eyes gleamed like blades as he asked the final question:
"Understood?"
Both nodded, not daring to raise their eyes.
Darkness swallowed me. I felt my body float in a cold void.And then, as if the world tore apart, I was no longer in the Valley of Hell, but in a formless state, hovering over a ravine where the wind howled like starving wolves.The sky, gray as lead, pressed down on the rocks of the Land of Earth. The air smelled of dust and death.
I didn't know where I was, or what I was seeing. I just... saw.
At the center of the scene, a man named Sakumo Hatake.He advanced with his White Chakra Blade, which gleamed like a beacon in the gloom.His silver hair danced in the wind.His eyes, sharp as a predator's, cut through the darkness.
He led three Konoha ninjas:A kunoichi named Hana, with fūinjutsu seals stitched into her tunic;Taro, a jōnin with quick hands and a fierce gaze;And a young chūnin, almost my age — at most eight years old. His hands trembled as he held the kunai.I felt a chill. It was like seeing myself in his place.
They moved like specters through the ravines, avoiding traps, any sound — twigs, leaves, stones.I could hear the gravel beneath their boots, muffled by the wind. Smelled the bitter scent of wet earth. I knew I wasn't there, but my senses betrayed me.
Sakumo raised his hand: silence.His blade flashed in a swift cut, destroying an enemy sensor.He was a monster, I thought. Magnificent.But soon I'd learn even monsters fall.
The target was an Iwagakure supply base, carved into the rock like a fortress.The plan was simple: Hana would seal the exits, Taro would eliminate the sentries, and Sakumo would destroy the core.
But then the ground shook.An explosion ripped through the ravine. Rocks fell like thunder.It was a trap.
I screamed. Screamed endlessly, but no one heard.Iwa shinobi emerged, shaping the terrain with earth jutsus, creating a deadly maze.
Hana screamed — her leg crushed by a slab.Taro threw shuriken, until a katana tore open his chest, blood gushing like dark ink.The chūnin ran, kunai trembling.
Sakumo fought like a demon. His blade sliced through flesh and stone in arcs of light.But there were too many. Countless.Then I heard Hana's scream pierce the chaos, and saw Sakumo hesitate.
His eyes locked on her. Then on Taro, who gargled:
"The mission... complete the mission..."
But something broke inside Sakumo.He was no longer the White Fang. Just a man. A father.
With a roar, he launched a wind jutsu, driving the enemies back with a storm of dust.He pulled Hana from the stones, grabbed the chūnin by the collar, and ran.The ravine collapsed behind them.
Hana's blood stained his tunic.Taro was left behind. His body swallowed by darkness.
Riki wanted to scream. To change fate.But the dream dragged him to Konoha.
The scene shifted.
We were in the Leaf Village.Konoha buzzed with venomous whispers.In the central square, shinobi and civilians cast hateful glances at Sakumo, who walked with his head bowed.The White Blade sheathed like a curse.
"Traitor," they whispered. "Weak."
And then I saw him: the man with the cane.His name was Danzō Shimura.In the shadows, his eyes gleamed with malice.
His agents worked like vermin: spreading rumors, bribing elders with promises, forging reports.They destroyed Sakumo with words.
I saw the bear-masked man whisper to a jōnin:
"He chose three lives over the village. What kind of shinobi does that?"
The lie spread like fire.
In the council, Danzō raised his voice — every word a blow:
"Sakumo Hatake betrayed our ideals. Because of his failure, Iwagakure advances. And our blood pays the price."
Hiruzen, the Hokage, remained silent.His pipe trembled in his hands.Not even he dared to defend Sakumo from the tide of hatred.
Even Hana — the one saved by Sakumo — gave in to the pressure:
"Maybe... maybe he did make a mistake…"
My chest tightened.They destroyed him.Not with kunai. But with words.
Everything went dark.
Sakumo was alone at home.Staring at the White Blade.
His eyes, once fierce, now... bottomless voids.I tried to scream. To stop him.But the world dissolved.
I woke up, gasping, in my room.