Moonlight blurred across the dunes. Wind howled through the sand like a living thing.
In the endless desert, a Sunagakure patrol squad moved under cover of night—silent, cautious, and tense—heading toward the abandoned village.
"This place is seriously cursed," one shinobi muttered under his breath. "Nothing but dead land."
"Enough," the squad leader snapped, cutting him off. "Focus."
"And don't forget who we're looking for—Lady Pakura. She's earned more for this village than you'll ever repay."
"Yeah, yeah… I know, Captain. It's just—" The shinobi's eyes drifted back toward the rear.
A bespectacled boy walked there—eleven or twelve at most, thin, polite-looking, almost too harmless. That alone irritated the patrolman.
"Why are we listening to this brat and coming all the way out here?"
"I'm sorry," the boy said quickly, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile. "I only suggested it because it might be possible…"
"And if we really find Lady Pakura's trail, then our records will—"
"Quiet." The captain shook his head, then glanced at the boy again.
"This place is remote, but that's exactly why it's a good hiding spot. We find clues. Once we do, ANBU handles the rest. Understood?"
"Yes!"
The squad answered in unison.
Then—
The ground moved.
The desert turned viscous—like mud. Before several shinobi could even react, their legs sank and were swallowed.
"Damn it—ambush!"
The captain's blade came out instantly.
But in that same instant, a freezing sense of danger crawled up his spine. His skin prickled.
He tried to form seals—
A cold flash cut the darkness.
His throat felt… strangely cool.
"So fast…"
That was the last thought he ever formed.
Before his vision faded, he saw earth spikes rise like teeth from the sand—
And every one of his men—except the bespectacled boy—was pierced clean through.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
Ren.
He looked over the corpses, then turned toward the boy with a dry, amused tone.
"So you're calling yourself 'Hideyoshi' now, Kabuto? If I kill you here, can we call it an accident?"
"Don't joke like that, Ren," Kabuto said, forcing a laugh as he adjusted his glasses.
His childhood "friend" hadn't changed at all.
Back in Root training, Ren had "trained" him with fists so often that Kabuto had genuinely wondered if he'd die on the sparring ground one day.
But this—this was different.
Ren had just erased an entire patrol squad in the time it took to blink.
Kabuto steadied his breathing fast. He'd been undercover long enough to regain control of his face.
"…Why are you in Sunagakure too?" he started, then immediately stopped himself. "Never mind. I shouldn't ask. You have your own mission."
He looked up sharply.
"You called me for a reason. What is it?"
"I need your help with something," Ren said, casual as if they were discussing the weather.
"And I'm guessing you won't refuse."
Kabuto's lips tightened.
He wanted to say Ren was crossing lines.
But one glance at the corpses—and one memory of Root—made that thought die in his throat.
"…Fine," Kabuto said quietly. "Tell me. I'll try."
"I need you to investigate Sunagakure policy," Ren said. "Specifically… anything involving Pakura."
"…Pakura."
Kabuto's face changed instantly.
The color drained.
"You—" His voice sharpened. "Did you kill her?!"
"Captured," Ren corrected, holding up a hand. "Not dead."
Then, calmly, he laid out his deductions: Sunagakure's funding crisis, the logic of buying peace with Kirigakure, the "cheapest" high-value bargaining chip…
Kabuto listened without blinking.
By the time Ren finished, Kabuto's expression had turned heavy.
If true, this was a world-shaking piece of intelligence.
And what disturbed him most was this:
Ren hadn't "heard" it.
He'd reasoned it out.
"…I need time to think," Kabuto said at last.
Then his jaw tightened.
"Damn it… my cover identity is only a genin. That makes this insanely hard."
Ren frowned.
"A genin?" he echoed. "That's… brutal."
He thought for a second, then asked quietly:
"If I create a big enough distraction, do you get an opening?"
"Only if the Kazekage leaves his office," Kabuto answered immediately. "And that's unlikely."
Then he shook his head, forcing himself back to control.
"I'll think of something. Don't act rashly. Don't expose yourself. Sunagakure's ANBU are moving too—your situation is already dangerous."
He paused.
And then his eyes hardened with resolve.
"…And I want in," Kabuto said.
"Not just receiving your information secondhand. I want to participate."
His voice trembled—just slightly.
"This could be my chance. A chance to return to Konoha. A chance to see Headmaster again."
He bowed deeply.
"Please, Ren. Give me that chance."
Ren stared at him.
In Root, bowing like that was a violation. A weakness.
But Kabuto wasn't doing it for pride.
He was doing it for Nono Yakushi.
Ren's gaze narrowed.
A thought flashed through his mind:
This is a chance for me too.
Kabuto still believed in Danzō. Still believed in "the higher-ups."
That faith only broke later—when the truth finally crushed him.
Ren could break it earlier.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Kabuto's shoulder, voice dropping.
"There's something you need to know."
"…What?"
Ren spoke evenly, almost gently.
"Headmaster left Konoha a long time ago."
Kabuto froze.
His face twisted as if he hadn't understood the words.
"…What did you just say?"
"You might not know this," Ren continued, "but I'm in ANBU now—not Root."
"My restrictions are still there, and I'm still forbidden from approaching the orphanage directly…"
"But I have more freedom than before. I used some methods to check."
Ren's tone remained calm—too calm.
"She's not there."
"And the messages you've been receiving…" Ren said, watching Kabuto's eyes widen, "are probably fake."
"That—" Kabuto stammered. "That's impossible…"
Ren didn't stop.
"You remember why Danzō came to the orphanage in the first place?"
Kabuto's pupils tightened.
"You mean… Headmaster…?"
"The chances are high," Ren said, letting out a slow breath. "She's too kind."
"She probably tried to trade herself for our freedom."
"But things didn't go the way she hoped."
Ren paused—deliberately—letting that hang.
Then he squeezed Kabuto's shoulder once, hard and grounding.
"Of course… this is still a deduction."
"But I have no reason to lie to you."
"We both came from that orphanage. You have a right to know."
"And like you said—if this operation succeeds, you might get to go back."
"And then you can investigate it yourself."
Kabuto stood there, shaking slightly.
Everything he'd been holding onto—every dream—wavered.
And in the desert wind, the silence between them turned sharp enough to cut.
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