Base No. 3, Equipment Department
In a dimly lit room with only a ventilation duct and a single door, towering four-tiered iron racks dominated over eighty percent of the space. The racks were laden with white masks adorned with eerie patterns, standard-issue cloaks, tight-fitting suits, kunai, shuriken, and other ninja tools.
On the uppermost tier of the racks, rows of sealed scrolls were neatly arranged, each marked with a bold red "Explosive" kanji on the back.
To the right of the racks stood a rectangular redwood desk. Before it, Hikari and Aburame Ryoma stood silently, their expressions unreadable. Behind the desk sat a dark-haired woman with a blank face, her head bowed as she filled out forms.
"Height?" she asked.
"One thirty-five," Hikari replied.
The pen scratched across the paper in quick, barely legible strokes.
"Weight?"
"Two fifty," Hikari said, pressing her lips together. She wasn't fond of that number—neither its literal meaning nor its implications.
Click.
The pen paused.
The woman slowly raised her head, her panda-like dark circles locking onto Hikari's youthful face. Her gaze lingered briefly on the black cloth covering Hikari's eyes before she lowered her head again to continue writing.
Scratch, scratch. Weight: 250 kg.
After writing, the panda-eyed woman hesitated, then added a decimal point between the five and zero, nodding in satisfaction.
"Codename?"
"Yato."
Scratch, scratch.
The question-and-answer exchange was brisk, the form quickly filling up.
Aburame Ryoma stood behind Hikari, silent and still as a cold wax statue.
With a click, the pen's tip retracted.
The woman folded the completed form, stamped it with a seal, and turned to select suitable clothing for Hikari.
"Can I wear my own clothes?" Hikari asked.
"On missions, you wear the cloak and mask—standard issue. Otherwise, do what you want," the woman replied, rummaging through the lower racks. She pulled out a set of clothes and handed them to Hikari, then grabbed a mask from the shelf. "Not many masks fit your face shape, so you don't get much choice. As for ninja tools, everyone's got a limited quota. You'll need to register what you take. I'd suggest stocking up while you're here."
"No need, thanks," Hikari said, accepting the mask and cloak without complaint.
The mask resembled the upper half of an owl's face, with strange red and black patterns framing the eye areas. It wasn't ugly, but it wasn't particularly striking either—just a standard design.
From the faint emotional glow above Danzo's head, Hikari deduced that his main reason for recruiting her was likely to counter Sarutobi Hiruzen. If her connection to the Root were exposed, it could disrupt Danzo's plans. He was likely more aware of this than she was, so he probably wouldn't send her on routine missions. These items—mask, cloak, tools—wouldn't see much use. As for ninja tools, unless they were relics of the Sage of the Six Paths, they wouldn't offer her much help.
"One more thing," the woman said, pulling out a dark green handbook and a black wooden disk from under the desk. The disk's surface was etched with intricate cursed seals, with a hollow square at its center. "This handbook lists the Root's rules, maps, and methods to unlock the base's sealing barriers. Memorize it to avoid breaking any taboos. Input your chakra into this disk, and it'll generate a unique symbol for your identification."
Carefully tucking the handbook away, Hikari took the disk, studying the intricate cursed seals carved into it.
The six-year ninja academy didn't just teach the Three Basic Techniques. It covered the Will of Fire, chakra principles, trap-setting, ninjutsu composition, hand signs, throwing techniques, taijutsu, genjutsu analysis, stealth, and reconnaissance—a comprehensive curriculum. Hikari, leveraging her fan club at the academy, had borrowed advanced textbooks from older students, some even containing basic knowledge of sealing techniques and cursed seals.
Sealing techniques and cursed seals might sound lofty, but they weren't as complex as they seemed. "Sealing techniques" referred to a broad category of ninjutsu. Just as Shadow Clone, Water Clone, and Lightning Clone all fell under "clone techniques," any technique that produced a "sealing" effect was considered a sealing technique. For example, if Hikari developed a technique to bind enemies with ropes, that would be a standard sealing technique. Her Rabbit Hair Needle, which blocked chakra flow in an enemy's meridians, could also technically be classified as a sealing technique.
Cursed seals, on the other hand, were semi-automated ninjutsu—an alternative way to release techniques. By translating the chakra pathways and hand signs of a ninjutsu into abstract text, you created a "cursed script." Take the rope-binding technique as an example: if Hikari analyzed it and converted it into text, that would be a "sealing cursed script." By inscribing this script onto a chakra-conductive material, the technique could be activated with just a chakra input—no focus or hand signs required. This would result in a "Rope-Binding Seal" cursed seal.
The "Sealed Scrolls" that recorded forbidden techniques combined these elements. The principle involved transcribing a sealing technique's cursed script onto chakra-conductive paper, like the kind used to test chakra natures. Ninja tools were crafted similarly, though they often required rare chakra metals, making them expensive. Besides these materials, human skin was also an excellent chakra conductor. Some ninja skilled in cursed seals would tattoo them onto their bodies to boost their combat prowess. There was a time in the ninja world when many bore strange cursed seals on their faces or bodies, viewing them as symbols of strength. But as cursed scripts grew more complex and skin space became insufficient, this practice fell out of favor.
In short, sealing techniques and cursed seals were distinct concepts, though their compatibility led to frequent overlap.
Reading the cursed script on the disk, Hikari confirmed it wasn't a sealing technique or some powerful secret jutsu. As the woman had said, it was simply a cursed seal that generated a unique pattern based on chakra fluctuations.
A faint purple chakra aura gathered in Hikari's hands.
Buzz!
The disk vibrated, its symbols slowly emitting a purple glow.
Behind her, Aburame Ryoma's icy demeanor finally showed a flicker of emotion. Tiny black parasitic insects crawled from his eyelids, releasing pheromones of intense desire toward the purple light.
Yin?
Pushing his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, Ryoma suppressed the restless insects within him and stepped back three paces, retreating into the shadows by the door like a creature that could only thrive in darkness.
Buzz!
The cursed script on the disk lit up circle by circle, converging at the central square to form a unique pattern.
The three of them leaned in curiously.
The pattern was an incomplete circle formed by two overlapping wing outlines—one spiral-patterned on the left, the other radiating outward on the right. The intersecting arcs created an unclosed crescent moon and eclipse ring, with three diamond-shaped dots at the gap, shimmering like flowing water despite being static.
"This is your chakra fluctuation pattern," the woman said. "The village's outer sensory barrier records chakra fluctuations, which are converted into patterns like this."
Taking the disk from Hikari, she admired the beautiful, mysterious design for a moment before pulling out a blank sheet of paper and forming quick hand signs. The pulsating purple pattern solidified and transferred onto the paper, fixed in place.
"This is your mark now. Codename, mask, and chakra pattern—these three unique identifiers together confirm your identity far more reliably than an appearance that can be altered."
Handing the patterned paper to Hikari and stowing the disk back under the desk, the woman sat back down, motionless, as if her task were complete.
Glancing at the puppet-like woman and then at the cold, insect-like man lurking in the shadows, Hikari thought to herself that there weren't many normal people in the Root.
"Let's go," she said to Aburame Ryoma, clutching her pile of items.
"Hm."
Surprisingly, the usually stoic Ryoma responded, albeit curtly. It was a small step up from his previous uncommunicative demeanor.
Hikari blinked in surprise, then glanced at the emotional glow above his head. Amid the void, there was a faint trace of goodwill. If everyone's favor toward her started at a baseline of 100, Ryoma's had risen from a detached zero to a mere five—the kind of familiarity gained from a single meeting.
She didn't know where this sliver of goodwill came from, but as someone new to the Root, Hikari needed an information source. As Danzo's right-hand man and one of the Root's two elite Jonin, Ryoma was an ideal candidate.
"What should I call you?" she asked.
"…Ryoma."
They walked and talked, leaving the Equipment Department one after the other.
In the dim room behind them, the woman slowly lowered her head, dark hair falling over her cheeks as she slumped in her chair, as if asleep.
Tap, tap.
The sound of solitary footsteps echoed through the monotonous corridor.
Ryoma led the way, his black hood covering his forehead, moving silently. Hikari followed, holding her clothes and mask, her expression serious.
The woman in the Equipment Department had seemed unremarkable, but her chakra was strikingly strong—stronger than Hikari's and Ryoma's combined. Yet, oddly, she hadn't exuded any sense of danger, and her physical strength seemed average.
"Ryoma, what's that woman's name?" Hikari asked.
"…Don't know," Ryoma replied hesitantly, then added faintly, "Don't disturb her. That's Danzo-sama's order."
Hikari's eyes flickered at his words.
On the surface, Konoha had only one Hokage, but in reality, Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo co-ruled the village—one in the light, the other in the shadows. Together, they kept Konoha's clans in check. The Anbu and the Root were their respective forces, with the Root being smaller but steeped in secret techniques and forbidden human experiments. The waters here ran deeper than Hikari had imagined.
"Ryoma, how long have you been in the Root?"
"A long time."
"How long is a long time?"
"…I forgot."
Facing Hikari's probing, Ryoma paused. The cold, dim underground base made time feel meaningless. He couldn't recall when he'd joined the Root—or even why.
Tap, tap.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.
No matter how hard he tried, Ryoma couldn't remember when he joined or his reasons for doing so. All he recalled was a moment in endless darkness when someone reached out to him with a smile. He couldn't see their face or know their identity, but the warmth of that smile lingered.
The two walked on, passing rooms lined with sealing barriers and occasionally encountering Root ninja who bowed to Ryoma and Hikari in greeting. No one spoke further.
"We're here," Ryoma said, stopping abruptly.
Hikari, who had been quietly observing him, looked up. Before them stood two iron-gray doors, tightly shut, with red warning symbols and the words "Experiment Department" written above.
The Experiment Department? Where human experiments are conducted? They might have Hashirama cells here, Hikari thought, memorizing the route to this place.
"Chihaya To is waiting for you inside," Ryoma said, pulling open the door. Harsh white light spilled from the gap, illuminating the dim corridor.
Unaccustomed to the bright light, Hikari stepped back slightly. Having delivered her, Ryoma turned and left silently, leaving only a dark silhouette.
"If you ever remember when you joined the Root, let me know," Hikari called out, one foot already through the door.
"…Hm."
His familiar, cold response echoed as Hikari shook her head and stepped into the Experiment Department.
Outside, she was usually reserved, speaking little. But in the Root, surrounded by icy figures, she felt almost lively by comparison. Sometimes, it's all about contrast.
Clank.
The iron door closed.
The sharp smell of disinfectant wafted through the cold air. The temperature here felt at least two degrees lower than outside.
After spending so long in dim lighting, the bright lights stung Hikari's Byakugan, momentarily disorienting her. As her eyes adjusted, the familiar translucent world unfolded in her mind. Beyond the outer anti-snooping barriers, her Byakugan could now function. Most walls and wooden doors became semi-transparent outlines, though a few inner rooms remained impenetrable.
The Experiment Department was vast, larger than the meeting hall, divided into countless square compartments like a giant honeycomb under Hikari's 360-degree vision. Long fluorescent lights hung overhead, and medical staff in green surgical gowns, masks, and gloves moved about, pushing covered figures in and out.
There were no screams from test subjects or grotesque mutants. The place was cold, precise, and clean. If not for the iron restraints binding the limbs of those on the beds, Hikari might have mistaken it for an ordinary hospital.
"Is this the new test subject?"
A nurse in white, pushing a cart of instruments, emerged from the honeycomb and pointed at the silver-haired girl by the door, her voice tinged with excitement.
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