"Sister, I'm heading out."
Nohara Moku stood at the entrance, holding a small package—inside were the snacks he had spent all last night preparing, neatly wrapped in oil paper and tied with a pretty ribbon.
Rin Nohara poked her head out from the kitchen, her hands still covered in flour: "Be careful on your way."
"Mm."
Nohara Moku pushed the door open, the morning sunlight spilling onto him, feeling warm.
But he didn't feel warm at all inside.
Over the past six months, he had been so proactive, and it wasn't just to grind system rewards.
He remembered.
Kakashi's father—Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha, that legendary Ninja who had once shaken the Ninja World, would soon commit suicide due to rumors and gossip in the village.
Probably within these next few days.
In the original story, Kakashi carried this trauma, graduated early from the Ninja Academy after less than a year, and from then on embarked on that path where "rules come first."
If he could prevent all this...
If Sakumo Hatake could survive...
Would Kakashi's life be different?
Nohara Moku took a deep breath and quickened his pace.
It was a pity he hadn't been reincarnated into this world as Kakashi's brother; otherwise, he would have moved directly into the Hatake household, provided psychological counseling to Sakumo every day, and used Talk-no-Jutsu until he doubted his own life—
"Suicide? That doesn't exist! Your son is going to be the man who becomes Hokage! You have to stay alive to watch him grow up!"
Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.
He was just a nobody from the Nohara family, and his only connection to Kakashi was being a classmate—and they had barely spoken.
So he could only think of another way.
If he arrived early, he would try his best to stop Sakumo from committing suicide;
If he failed to stop him from committing suicide, then he would save him.
He had been desperately learning Medical Ninjutsu for the past six months, all for this very moment.
By now, he had already leveled up his Medical Ninjutsu proficiency and Chakra Scalpel proficiency to an advanced level, and he had practiced the emergency techniques Tsunade taught him thousands of times.
He jogged all the way, passing through the streets of Konoha, and rushed toward the Hatake residence.
Familiar neighbors greeted him on the way: "Little Moku, where are you going so early?"
"Going to play at a friend's house!" he replied with a smile, but didn't stop his pace.
He gripped the snacks in his hand tightly.
These snacks were an excuse.
If he had rushed directly into the Hatake house and said, "Uncle, don't commit suicide," he would surely have been thrown out as a madman.
But if it was "coming to deliver snacks for my sister, and stopping by to play with Kakashi"...
That would at least get him through the door.
The Hatake residence was located in a quiet neighborhood, surrounded by a few old trees, with sunlight casting dappled shadows through the leaves.
Moku stood at the door and took a deep breath.
The door was tightly shut.
It was abnormally quiet.
His heart tightened, and he raised his hand to knock.
"Knock, knock, knock."
No one answered.
He knocked a few more times.
Still no one.
Moku gritted his teeth, went around to the backyard, and climbed over the wall.
The scene in the courtyard made him freeze.
A short blade was thrown on the corridor, its scabbard lying askew to one side; the sliding door was half-open, and it was pitch black inside.
"Uncle Hatake?" he tentatively called out.
No one answered.
He walked inside along the corridor, his heartbeat getting faster and faster.
The air seemed to be filled with a faint scent of blood.
Moku's steps faltered, and then he suddenly sped up.
He threw open the innermost door.
And froze.
In the room, Sakumo Hatake was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, his head hanging low.
There was a ghastly wound on his abdomen, blood had already pooled on the floor, and the dark red liquid had soaked into the tatami mats.
Moku's pupils constricted sharply.
Was he... too late?
But he quickly realized—the blood hadn't completely coagulated yet!
He rushed over in two or three steps and reached out to check Sakumo Hatake's neck.
Pulse.
Faint, barely perceptible, but still beating!
"He's still alive!"
Moku didn't hesitate, formed hand seals, and a green Chakra glow lit up in his palms.
He focused all his attention on channeling Chakra, the green light in his palms growing brighter and brighter, seeping little by little into that ghastly wound.
Stopping the bleeding.
Repairing blood vessels.
Suturing tissue.
Time ticked by, minute by minute.
Large beads of sweat seeped from Moku's forehead as his Chakra was consumed rapidly.
But he dared not stop.
He could not stop.
"Hold on..." he gritted his teeth, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, "Uncle Hatake, your son is still waiting for you... You can't die..."
He didn't know how much time had passed.
Suddenly, rapid footsteps came from outside the door.
"Dad—!"
That was Kakashi's voice, filled with unprecedented panic.
The next second, the door was slammed open.
The silver-haired boy stood at the doorway, seeing the scene inside the room, and froze completely.
He saw that classmate whom he had only seen from afar in the classroom, Nohara Moku, kneeling beside his father, his hands radiating a green glow, the boy himself looking as if he had been fished out of water, drenched in sweat.
Moku didn't even turn his head, his voice hoarse:
"Don't just stand there... go get help... hurry..."
Kakashi opened his mouth, but couldn't make a sound.
He glanced at the ghastly wound on his father's chest—the wound that should have been fatal was now healing at a visible rate under the shroud of green light.
The classmate who was usually smiling and looked like a girl had an expression of seriousness on his face that he had never seen before.
"Go, hurry!"
Kakashi snapped back to reality and turned to rush out.
Moku continued to maintain the Mystical Palm Technique.
His Chakra was almost bottoming out, but he could feel that Sakumo Hatake's vital signs were stabilizing.
Just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion, a burst of rapid footsteps came from behind.
"Move aside!"
A familiar voice rang out.
Moku barely managed to turn his head and saw Shizune rush in.
She scanned the scene, took over Moku's position without a word, and her hands glowed with a green light several times more intense than Moku's.
Moku finally couldn't hold on any longer, sat down on the floor, and panted heavily.
"Sister Shizune... how did you..."
"Rin said you ran out looking pale, so I followed to check on you." Shizune didn't turn her head back, her tone carrying a hint of approval, "Well done, kid. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have made it until now."
Moku leaned against the wall and grinned.
Then he looked toward the door.
Kakashi was standing there, his mask covering most of his face, but in those eyes, something was trembling violently.
It was fear, relief, and a trace of confusion.
Moku waved his hand at him.
"Don't look at me like that." His voice was weak, but carried a hint of familiar teasing, "Just remember to treat me to Ichiraku Ramen."
Kakashi didn't speak.
But the trembling in those eyes slowly turned into something Moku couldn't read.
The aftereffects of Chakra exhaustion surged up, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Before losing consciousness, he heard a very, very soft voice, as if it were coming from very far away.
"...Thank you."
That was Kakashi's voice.