The alley was silent now, save for the slow drip of blood running down the uneven cobblestones and the occasional groan of a dying mule that had been too panicked to keep from tangling itself in Shiro's razor-sharp mana threads.
The once orderly procession of carts and crates now looked like the aftermath of a bloody riot mixed with a butcher's yard. Broken bodies lay sprawled in unnatural heaps, many missing limbs or heads, while overturned boxes spilled their contents into the mess.
It had been over in minutes, which only made the scene more unsettling. One moment, the overseer under Ino's control had been driving his men through the narrow side alley, cursing under his breath about delays, and the next, they had stumbled into Shiro's invisible web of death. A handful had tried to fight back, slashing wildly with blades or swinging cudgels, but against something they couldn't see, their resistance hadn't lasted long. They had been carved apart as neatly as meat through a butcher's saw.
Now came the practical part… the clean-up.
"Alright, that should do it," Shiro murmured, waving her hand one last time. The shimmering threads that had been strung across the alley dissolved into nothing, leaving behind only the carnage they had caused.
She looked exhausted, not from the effort itself; she had more than enough control to keep dozens of threads active for hours… No, it was the concentration it had taken to avoid cutting down the crates or mules prematurely. "Any longer, and I'd have started trimming things we might actually need."
Guldrin stepped forward, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. After seeing the new fancy metal, his blacksmith instincts had been screaming at him, urging him to experiment. "Perfect. Now for the part I enjoy."
Ino gave him a sharp look as she dusted herself off, having only just fully reoriented herself after the mind transfer technique. "You mean the stealing, don't you?"
"I call it liberating from undeserving hands," Guldrin corrected, grinning. "They weren't putting this to good use anyway. Just another criminal syndicate moving contraband under that bastard Danzo's orders. Better we take it, put it to actual use, and cripple their operation while we're at it."
"You could at least sound a little less gleeful while you're standing in the middle of a bloodbath," Ino muttered, stepping around a puddle. "This isn't exactly the kind of thing you smile about."
"Speak for yourself," Guldrin shot back. "I'm smiling because I don't have to clean the alley. We take the loot, vanish, and leave the mess for someone else to deal with. It's efficient. Everyone wins. Well… except them." He nudged a headless corpse with his boot.
Shiro snorted, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible."
With that, Guldrin summoned his inventory space. To anyone else, it looked like he was reaching into thin air, pulling items out of nothing, or dropping them in without effort. But to him, it was a carefully organized dimensional storage system.
The first priority was the crates, twenty-nine in total, each roughly the size of a large chest, heavy enough that the workers had nearly broken their backs hauling them down the ramp.
'Twenty-nine of them? I could have sworn there were thirty? Focus, I can think about that later…'
Shaking his head, he set his hand on the first, muttered the command, and with a faint shimmer, it vanished into his storage. One by one, the rest followed, until the alley was empty of goods, the stacked boxes now secured in his private inventory.
Twenty-nine crates, each containing thirty chakra-conductive plates, nearly nine hundred in total. A number that, without his inventory, they would have had no feasible way to steal and transport…
The value was staggering; these were potential raw strategic advantages. If even a fraction of those plates were forged into weapons or armor, it could turn the tide of a battle, and now, they were in their hands.
"Kami above, I was right…" Ino breathed, watching the process with wide eyes. "That's… that's enough to bankrupt a small nation."
"Of course it is," Guldrin said lightly. "That's why I'm grinning. If we play this right, we can manipulate half the criminal underworld without firing a shot. Everyone wants chakra metal. Everyone. But no one can get it… And now, conveniently, we own all of it."
Ino didn't seem reassured. "You're going to paint a massive target on us."
"Already had one," he reminded her. "At least this way, they can justify the bullseye."
While Guldrin handled the crates, Shiro went through the workers' and hired muscles' bodies with clinical efficiency, searching pockets, belts, and discarded satchels. Coins clinked into her palm as she emptied purses and money pouches; gold, silver, bronze, and a handful of odd tokens likely meant for gambling dens or brothels. By the time she was done, she had gathered a small fortune in coinage alone, enough to keep a dozen families fed for years if it weren't for the blood staining every last piece.
"These men weren't just dockhands or hired muscle," Shiro muttered, tossing another pouch into her own identical inventory. "Some of them had coded notes, instructions written in cipher. Orders, contacts… this was more organized than a local gang. Whoever's running this is deeply tied into the region's infrastructure. Multiple gangs, criminal organizations, they all came together for this… and we just stole the whole thing."
"Danzo," Ino said bitterly. "It's always Danzo. He plants his roots like weeds. You think you're dealing with one patch, and then you find that three more sprouted somewhere else."
"Good thing, while he tried to indoctrinate us, he taught us how to cleanse infections," Guldrin said smugly, remembering the torture they had to undergo and the drills he put them through in hopes that he would gain two brainwashed, overpowered weapons.
The three of them finished their looting quickly after that. The miscellaneous haul wasn't nearly as impressive as the chakra metal, but it still had value: daggers, throwing knives, a handful of indecipherable seals inscribed on paper, half-empty bottles of medicinal pills, and trinkets like pocket watches, necklaces, or charms that might fetch a price with the right buyer. Every last bit went into Shiro's personal inventory.
By the time they were done, the alley looked less like the site of a smuggling operation and more like a mass grave. Their jobs done, Guldrin, Shiro, and Ino left the area with their haul, once again, leaving only a blood-soaked metal all-seeing eye emblem sitting on a dead body in their wake.
—
–
-
Minutes before they had looted the area, unseen by the trio, the shadows of the alley were not as empty as they seemed. While the blood was still soaking into the cracks of the uneven stones, and the acrid stench of iron filled the confined passageway, something small and pale stirred near the far corner.
A glimmer of white, faint against the crimson-smeared ground, slid with almost ghostly silence along the wall. It was no larger than a wrist in thickness, its scales glistening faintly under the weak lantern light hanging from the carts, each movement perfectly measured, perfectly timed to avoid the notice of Guldrin, Shiro, or Ino. The tiny creature flicked its tongue once, tasting the heavy air, and then pressed forward.
The snake's body brushed lightly against the wheel of one of the abandoned carts before curling toward a box half-hidden in the shadows. The containers had been stacked neatly earlier, thirty in total, each filled with valuable plates. The small snake lingered only for a breath, then unhinged its jaw with impossible ease, its body writhing and stretching in a grotesque yet practiced manner. In a slow, almost sickening process, the snake swallowed the box whole. The wood creaked faintly as it vanished down the serpent's throat, bulging the creature's body for a moment before its skin seemed to smooth out, the unnatural elasticity of its form allowing it to carry the prize without leaving more than the faintest swell behind.
Right before they had begun looting, Guldrin's eyes had swept over the alley once more, checking the seals and ensuring no witnesses remained alive to carry tales. His gaze passed over the corner where the snake had been, but by then the pale creature was already gone, its body gliding soundlessly through a narrow gap between two leaning walls. He exhaled and returned his attention to Shiro and Ino, unaware of the theft. To them, everything was cleanly handled and under their control.
The snake, however, slithered deeper into the maze of alleys, undisturbed by the smell of blood that clung to its scales, but oddly enough didn't leave any kind of trail behind. Its movements were unhurried but efficient, as though the thing knew the exact route back to its master.
This was no ordinary creature, but an extension of its master's will, a summoned creature sent to gather information and, when possible, retrieve valuables.
It took only minutes before the faint light of the moon broke across an open clearing near the edge of the docks. There, half-hidden in the shadow of a collapsed warehouse, two figures waited on the rooftop with a perfect view of the alley where everything took place.
One stood straight-backed, spectacles glinting faintly as he adjusted them with the tip of a finger, his expression unreadable. The other lingered just beyond him, pale and snake-like in nature, seemed both amused and impatient, as though the world itself existed solely for his experimentation and advances; regardless of his hands, which at the moment were functionally useless.
The snake raised its head and opened its mouth. With a grotesque convulsion, the box was expelled, landing lightly on the roof with barely a sound. The white serpent lingered for only a moment longer before curling around the pale ankles of its master, Kabuto, who knelt to retrieve the box.
"Interesting," Kabuto said softly, almost to himself, fingers closing around the corner of the wooden crate as if feeling its grain would tell him more than the contents. He ran his thumb along the wood, noting impressions, the nail marks along the edge, a faint smear of something that might be grease or blood, the weight that told him whether the crate was full or half-empty. "They did all the work for us. Efficient, ruthless… and sloppy in the smallest details. Not bad, but not perfect."
Orochimaru's smile was thin in the dark, amusement hidden below the surface. He watched as Kabuto set it down with an elegant motion, palmed the lid, and slid it aside. Inside, chakra-conductive plates gleamed faintly, laid in neat stacks and wrapped in what looked to be oiled cloth. The metal had a chill that didn't belong to the night air; it hummed faintly under Kabuto's fingertips as he channeled chakra into it, its resonance making his scalp prickle.
"Kekeke," Orochimaru chuckled, a dry sound that did not match human mirth. He leaned forward, the pale of his face catching the moon's glow. "This group is full of surprises. First, that projectile weapon, something I haven't seen before, then their clever use of seals and those ultra-sharp threads. Now they walk off with Danzo's shipment under his nose. If they keep this up, they'll shake the whole world out of its complacent, perpetual sleep."
Kabuto's spectacles caught the moonlight as he blinked. He replaced the lid and looked at Orochimaru, "They're reckless, but not stupid," he said. "Reckless can be effective when combined with competence. Those threads in the alley, those were fine control. The smaller girl who arranged that had a mind for spatial dynamics, and the others may not have contributed much, but they coordinated well. If they can pull off a theft like this, they have shown they can plan. That makes them a dangerous foe."
"They are dangerous," Orochimaru agreed, tone neutral. "But danger is a resource we can use to our advantage."
Kabuto hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Lord Orochimaru, are you sure we shouldn't intervene? Take the rest of the shipment while it's exposed? If we move now, we could cripple them and turn the plates into something useful for us."
Orochimaru's head tilted, the smile widening infinitesimally as he considered the proposal and, in the same breath, dismissed it. "Kekeke. You have been with me a long time, Kabuto, and your eye for the immediate is as sharp as ever. Practical, surgical. Useful. But you still lack patience and the ability to think, to perceive what others neglect."
Kabuto bristled as reproach, but he was no fool; he knew the cadence of Orochimaru's thinking well enough to wait for the point. Orochimaru continued without letting him speak. "What is to say that these people will let you walk away with the spoils? They are unknown variables. They might be weaker, they might be stronger. More importantly, doing what you suggest would slam a door shut."
Kabuto's hands rested on his knees. "A door?"
"Yes," Orochimaru said softly, "If we attack them now, we turn an immediate advantage, some plates, some leverage, into a vendetta. We paint ourselves as predators that they must either submit to or overcome. Regardless of the others… Their leader, that silver-haired woman who for some reason stayed behind… I do not wish to see her as an enemy."
Kabuto's face went still. "You think she's that dangerous?"
Orochimaru's thin smile became a curl of fond contempt. "You would not survive a week if she set out to find you. A woman like that… A hunter like that will find you in places you think are safe. And I have no desire to test whether she can or cannot."
Kabuto drew in a breath and let it out. It was the same breathing exercise he used before field surgery: steady the hand, steady the mind. "So we do nothing."
"Not, nothing." Orochimaru's voice grew colder. "We observe. We gather information. We do not show ourselves. They have courage, skill, and the same arrogance that lets young predators make mistakes; that arrogance will create fissures. We learn where they are vulnerable, what their habits are, who they answer to, if anyone. And if there is any chance of collaboration… We still need to get Tsunade to heal my hands. But that depends on whether we can separate or find a time when she is alone."
Kabuto bristled under his scolding but knew better than to argue, "It is as you say, Lord Orochimaru. I didn't consider all the implications."
"Kekeke, now we watch the show… I have a feeling Lord Danzo's presence in this village is about to experience a strong shift… No longer will he be uncontested and be able to use this village as his own little private territory."
-
–
—
Guldrin, Shiro, and Ino moved swiftly as they scaled up the side of a building that looked like it had seen better days. From their vantage on the flat roof of a half-collapsed, abandoned warehouse, the three of them looked down on the alleyway, waiting for any signs of movement.
The bodies lay where Shiro's threads had left them, in a neat, brutal, and ultimately horrifying way. The single emblem, smeared in blood and deliberately left on top of the biggest body, glinted as evidence and a taunt.
In a few minutes of watching, one by one, men in dirty coats were arriving and moving, hauling canvas-covered carts closer, the boss's men coming to assess the scene.
Guldrin didn't celebrate right away; he watched. He waited until the right moment, until he could see Wolf, the boss's lieutenant, crouched over one corpse and working the edges of a wound as if searching for a clue. Then he cracked his smile.
"Wonderfully done," he said, voice low enough the wind stole most of it. "Swift, efficient. My adorable dragon," he shot a look at Shiro, part fond, part irritated, "took them clean without leaving anything for the rest of us to do."
Shiro shrugged, still grinning. "You snooze, you lose. Or in my case, you lost the chance because you lost at rock-paper-scissors. You choose to play a game against me, what did you expect?"
Guldrin snorted, "Fair point."
Ino stared at them. "You two sound like idiots."
"Torture does that to people," Guldrin and Shiro said in unison, like a rehearsed line.
Ino shook her head, then went back to business. "All right. Crates secured. Bodies looted. We left the bait, blood, and the emblem exactly where we had intended them to be. Now what?"
Guldrin reached into his inventory and produced the receiver emblem. He didn't bother with theatrics. He'd learned the emblem's limitations: it tuned into proximity and intent, just as he wanted when he created it. If the base emblem was on someone, it could listen to anything around it, the nervousness, the whispered thoughts at the edges of perception, and of course any words spoken. It wasn't perfect telepathy, but used right, it let you eavesdrop on anything important.
He rested his thumb against the metal and focused until the world narrowed. The emblem warmed under his skin, and then sound bled in; it wasn't clean, not always words, sometimes jumbled, but it was enough.
"Alright, Wolf is here," Guldrin said as he gestured toward the larger man. "I'm linking." His voice was flat. "I'll hear everything he says till I cancel the effect, keep an eye out, I am less able to be perceptive to anything around me when connected. If he pockets that second emblem, I might get better audio quality, but I am not sure. Keep your heads down and your eyes open."
Ino braced herself with a hand on her weapon; this was her chance to return the favor of protection. "If Root shows up, we leave the area when we can. No heroics in the open. Let Root do their sweeping, we'll watch, and pick them off one by one later."
Shiro gave a single, satisfied hum. "And if they get sloppy and let some escape, I'll tidy the mess. Though I don't see that happening based on what I know of Root."
The feed came in ragged and choppy. Wolf's voice was gravelly, high with fear as it reached him as if through a wall; Wolf must have stored the previous emblem in a sack or something, and that is what muffled what he could hear.
"Boss. Boss, the shipment, gone. Who, who did this?"
(Something unintelligible)
"They left a metal, weird-looking emblem. No, I don't know where it went. It's a mess. The men are dead. I'll round up survivors. I'll send word. No, I didn't see anyone suspicious. I swear-"
Only fractions of what was being said could be understood, but the unmistakable sound of a blade entering someone's body, followed by a squelch and thud, was all Guldrin needed to understand… Wolf had just killed the poor fool, whose only wrong was being unlucky enough to deliver the bad news.
"Someone clean this fucking mess up! Bring me that emblem, and FIND THE FUCKING SHIPMENT!" Wolf's angry, panicked voice was clear as day at this point.
Guldrin let the words play out. He didn't need more than that. Panic, excuses, the reflex to point outward rather than inward. Wolf was trying to save himself before he saved his boss.
"Good," Guldrin said quietly. "That's exactly the tone I wanted. He's buying time, has no answers, and is scrambling. He'll call for muscle and then have no choice but to alert Root. Root will come in with full force because Danzo will mandate it. They'll strip the place and leave it raw. People will talk. Someone will be made an example. People who carried this shipment, people who unloaded carts, those still alive, even the innkeeper who rented the room for men to sleep nearer to the docks, anyone could be used."
Ino's jaw tightened. "And we follow them?"
"Yes and No," Guldrin corrected. "We set the breadcrumbs and let Root do the work for us. We'll be the shadow that watches their shadow. When Root moves, the others will cluster… Root will lead us to the ins and outs of the organization without our need to investigate. They'll mark positions, and, because they're Root, they'll assume their stealth is absolute and leave certain routes open. Following them will show us the paths of least resistance; we take those routes. We follow those paths which will ultimately show us their base."
Shiro's grin went cold for a second. "Make a plan."
Guldrin broke it down fast and clean. He liked plans as long as they were well fleshed out.
"First step: secure the plates. Check. I've got those stored away in my inventory, no weight, no noise. Next. Second: observe Wolf. He'll be the one running to the boss, and the boss will require answers. That creates a predictable sequence, assemblies, interrogations, and new orders. Third: Root will be called. They'll sweep the docks first, because it's the obvious risk area. They'll assume the shipment went out by sea or was stored nearby."
Ino cut in. "Which it didn't… Given Root protocols, they will follow each lead till the end. Wolf thinks the docks, since that is where it was stolen from. He's going to check pier three, then pier six. He'll follow potential buyers, and he'll blame the dockhands who were lucky enough not to be assigned escort duty."
"Exactly." Guldrin's finger drew a quick schematic on the algae-covered, wooden roof. "Root is decisive but predictable in nature. They hit hard where the lead points. For now, all we can do is watch and plan."
They took positions and did just that. The first reaction, as they had expected, was small and clumsy. Wolf ran his men in circles, questioning dockhands and throwing blame around. The boss, a fat, scar-faced man, swore, stomped, and demanded answers. The boss was rarely seen outside his gilded cage of delusions. Now that he was forced to leave, he was pissed beyond belief.
Alerting Danzo of his failure, or reporting the situation to Root? Not a chance in Hell. He wouldn't send word to Root, not until Wolf assured him that all local solutions had failed. That delay would be their downfall.
Through the receiver, Guldrin listened as Wolf's voice went from frantic to enraged. "Bring me the Dock Chief. Get me a ledger. I want names. If someone is buying plates, show me who!" The boss continued to chastise Wolf, causing tensions to rise. They rummaged through ledgers, called in hangers-on. Men who had nothing to do with the shipment turned up dirty and anxious.
"Perfect," Guldrin said. "They'll dig through tired pockets and pull up the wrong names. Root will have no choice but to notice the unrest in the Boss's operation."
By midnight, the gang's initial sweep had alarmed the town, alerting the Root stationed in the village as a result. Soldiers in crude white masks began to move like ghosts along the docks, efficient and cold. Guldrin's plan slipped into the next phase.
-
–
—
Elsewhere, in a cave that smelled of rot and damp stone, the kind of stink that clung to your lungs no matter how many times you breathed shallow. Drips of water echoed down the carved-out tunnels, each one marking time with the kind of patience only Root operatives could appreciate.
It was one of Danzo's fallback hideouts, deep in the earth and unremarkable to anyone who didn't know the subtle markers carved into the rock outside. Since the destruction of his main headquarters, thanks to Guldrin, Shiro, and Ino's little stunt, this dark burrow had become Danzo's command post. Root operatives moved like ghosts through the corridors, faceless masks making them look more like extensions of the cave than people.
A Root agent wearing a blank white mask came running, his sandals hitting wet stone with controlled urgency. Root members didn't panic, not outwardly. But the sharp clip of his steps, the subtle quickness of his breath, gave away the urgency of his news. He entered the central corridor and immediately found himself blocked by three guards. They moved in unison, kunai raised, their masks blank.
"Halt. Identify."
The words were cold, mechanical.
"Identification: Code name Rabbit. Urgent report for Lord Danzo regarding the Land of Hot Water, Village of Bamboo."
The three exchanged quick glances. The middle one gave a short nod. "Clear. Proceed. Lord Danzo is in an elder council meeting. Relay what you have, and depending on importance, we will scale and deliver."
Rabbit didn't waste time. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Reporting: the shipment of chakra metal is gone. Intercepted by an unknown force. Local gangs are already moving, but their efforts are blind. I strongly recommend immediate cleanup of the operation. Immediate termination of Weasel and Wolf to contain exposure. Requesting orders."
The guard who handled relays stiffened. His mask hid his expression, but Rabbit saw the way his shoulders locked, and his hand flexed once at his side. That subtle twitch was enough. "Repeat that," the guard demanded.
"The entire shipment is gone. Not misplaced. Gone. They left only corpses and scraps behind."
The silence that followed was heavy. Then the designated relay agent exhaled sharply through his mask. His voice lowered a fraction, the first hint of unease bleeding through. "How likely are the gangs to recover the shipment before it is lost forever?"
"Less than ten percent," Rabbit answered immediately. "They have no leads. They've chosen not to alert us formally, to hide their failure. Our own embedded agents uncovered it; even now, they have chosen to delay relaying this information."
That was the moment the weight of the message hit. Withholding information from Danzo was an unspoken death sentence. The Root agent's mask tilted downward, but Rabbit caught the way sweat beaded along the man's jawline. It wasn't fear for himself; it was fear of how Danzo would take this news.
"Withholding information… and no leads," the relay muttered. "Lord Danzo is not going to be pleased."
He didn't waste another breath. With a silent flicker of chakra, his body flickered out of the cave, destination clear: the Hokage's tower.
Inside the council chamber, things were tense but orderly. The walls were lined with scrolls of past decrees, and bureaucratic discussions filled the room. At the head of the chamber, Jiraiya leaned back lazily, though his sharp eyes never missed the undertones of the conversation.
Across from him sat Koharu and Homura, the two surviving members of the old guard council, both wearing the stern expressions of people who had spent decades convincing themselves their word shaped a better future. At the far end sat Danzo, his cane planted firmly on the ground, his single visible eye sharp and unblinking.
"Danzo," Koharu began, her tone carefully measured, "no one denies that you've been essential to Konoha's stability. Your contributions in the shadows cannot be overstated. But the position of Hokage requires more than that."
"Yes," Homura added, her voice softer but equally firm. "The Hokage stands in the light. The Hokage inspires the people, unites the clans. You… have lived too long in the darkness. It would not be wise to ask you to leave it now."
They tried to cushion the rejection, but it was rejection all the same.
Jiraiya smirked faintly at the exchange, scratching his cheek. He never liked Danzo, and seeing the old war hawk being denied, pleased him greatly, "They're right, Elder Danzo. Not that I think you're incompetent. Far from it. But Hokage? That's not your stage. Sensei always said so… If anyone here should sit in that chair, it's Tsunade. She's got the Senju blood, the name, she was also Sensei's student, a Sannin, and the presence. And let's be honest, we need her more than ever right now."
Danzo's fingers tightened around his cane, but he said nothing yet. His face remained stone, though his knuckles whitened.
Jiraiya continued, voice casual. "Now, let's talk about what the two elders proposed before… While I appreciate the nomination, I'm not built for that seat either. I've got my spy network to maintain, and being Hokage would chain me to this office. Tsunade's the one who can do it. She's the only one who can heal what's broken, literally. Between the Nine-Tails container, Naruko, Kakashi's condition, and Satsuki, the last Uchiha… if we don't bring her back, those three won't recover in any timely manner. Kakashi might even be forced to retire; we can't have that, not now.… I'll leave immediately to find her, if that's approved."
The words hung in the room for a moment. Then,
*Swoosh.*
A masked Root operative appeared silently beside Danzo, leaning down to whisper directly into his ear. The whisper was brief, but the effect was immediate. Danzo's grip on his cane tightened until the wood creaked, his jaw tightening with suppressed fury. His single visible eye sharpened, though he kept his face controlled in front of the others.
"Everything alright, Elder Danzo?" Jiraiya asked, raising a brow.
Danzo's voice came out steady, clipped, and cold. "Everything is fine. I approve your departure to retrieve Tsunade."
He stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping lightly against the polished floor. Without another word, he exited the chamber, cane tapping heavily with each step. The door slid shut behind him, and the moment it did, the mask cracked. His stride lengthened, the cane slammed harder into the floor, and his eye burned with restrained rage. The Root operative followed, silent as his master stormed through the halls.
By the time Danzo disappeared from sight, it was clear to anyone watching: something had shifted. His composure in the council was nothing but a mask. Whatever news had reached him had struck deep, and his next moves would not be subtle. The Root leader who had survived decades of scheming was angry, and that meant blood would follow.
A few moments later, Danzo entered the chamber with measured steps, his cane striking the stone floor. The sound wasn't dramatic, but the rhythm was enough to put every Root operative on edge. They knew the weight of it: when his steps slowed, someone's career, or life as it usually ended up being, was about to end.
Rabbit was already kneeling, forehead nearly pressed into the ground. Three other masked operatives stood along the walls, silent and still, though tension radiated off them.
"Report. Clearly. Without omission." Danzo's tone was flat, stripped of emotion, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
Rabbit swallowed before speaking. "The shipment of chakra metal is lost. Intercepted by unknown parties. Local gangs, who should work for you, concealed the theft from us. Our own operatives uncovered it. The likelihood of recovery is under ten percent. No leads, no reliable witnesses. Weasel's gang believed fear of Root would prevent and cover the failure."
The chamber grew still. The guards said nothing, though one shifted slightly, as if bracing for the storm that might follow. While emotionless in nature, fear was still ingrained in them to their core when dealing with Lord Danzo.
Rabbit pressed forward, words quick but concise. "The Boss, code-named Weasel, is directly responsible. He withheld the failure, did not alert us. Wolf, his subordinate, is equally guilty for allowing transport without proper precautions and contingencies in place. They acted in negligence and deception. I recommend termination of both. Public and immediate. But of course, the final decision rests in your hands, Lord."
For a long moment, Danzo said nothing. His fingers tightened around the carved head of his cane until the faint creak of stressed wood echoed through the chamber. He did not move, but those nearest to him recognized the signs.
"Wolf…" he said at last, voice steady, though quieter than before. "He failed his duty. He believed fear of us was enough to ensure compliance. A fool." Danzo leaned forward slightly, his shadow stretching long across the damp floor. "And Weasel-"
His voice cut off, then came back layered, a resonance beneath it that was wrong, a guttural echo no human throat should produce as his lone visible eye flashed with a golden glow.
"Weasel has insulted me. I placed him in that position! The shipment was not his to lose; it was mine! And those who dare to steal from me… I want them found…" He paused for a moment, "Fear…"
The words reverberated against the stone, metallic and vibrating. The glow once again flickered in his eyes for the briefest moment, unnatural and sharp like molten gold, before it was gone.
The Root guards didn't flinch. They had seen this before. Danzo's voice was always his voice, even when it wasn't. For them, the change was simply part of their master, nothing to question, nothing to analyze.
Rabbit, however, nearly lost his composure. He bowed deeper into the stone, his breath hitching once before he forced it back into control. His extended stay outside of Root had lessened his brainwashed indoctrination, it seemed.
Danzo straightened, his voice leveling back into the calm, cold tone they all knew. "Fear is not control. Fear is a tool. Wolf forgot this. Weasel thought himself clever, hiding failure, believing it would vanish in the dark. We thrive in the dark…" His grip on the cane eased slightly, the wood groaning in relief. "Failure… Failure can't be hidden; it does not vanish. It multiplies. It rots."
The guards remained statues. Rabbit dared a nod, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Orders, Lord Danzo?"
Danzo tapped the cane once against the stone. The sound cracked like a command seal. "Locate Wolf. Locate Weasel. When you are certain they are alone, remove them. Slowly. Without subtlety. Their deaths must remind everyone that Root is not deceived, and failure is not hidden. Replace him with another patsy, someone loyal to us, and ensure my supply of orphans continues to thrive. And Rabbit, FIND MY METAL."
"Yes, Lord Danzo." Rabbit's answer came immediately as he vanished.
Danzo's eye flickered again as he turned deeper into the chamber, the golden shimmer faint in the reflection of pooled water near his feet. Then the glow was gone, his pace steady, his cane's rhythm returning to its familiar, controlled cadence. Step by step, Danzo continued till he stood in front of an ancient-looking circular in-nature object, his expression complicated and pensive…
The agents did not speak; they just followed. His wrath was the only truth they needed to understand. His will, their purpose. Tonight, Weasel and Wolf would die.
(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)