Night gradually fell as Kakashi and the others finally reached the shore.
The sky hung low and heavy, its dull gray suggesting that rain was imminent. The air itself felt oppressive, thick with a quiet tension that pressed against the chest and made even breathing seem burdensome.
Kakashi glanced up at the sky before signaling the others to disembark at once. The place they had chosen to land lay dangerously close to Kirigakure, and for Anbu operatives like them, proximity alone was a risk they could not afford to ignore.
"Are you ready?"
Only after Pakura stepped slowly out from the cabin did Kakashi speak, his voice low and steady.
"I know you're filled with anger… with resentment. You may even think we're deceiving you. But I'll say this plainly—everything you've been told is the truth."
"Truth?"
Pakura stared at him for a long moment before letting out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Who knows what's true or false? In the end… it doesn't matter to me."
"Doesn't it?"
Kakashi met her gaze, his tone unchanged as he shook his head slightly. "Betrayal is never something one can ignore. And when it comes from the very village you believed in… I imagine it's far worse."
She did not answer.
But in her eyes, a faint shimmer of tears had already begun to gather.
Because it was true.
To be betrayed by the very place one had devoted everything to—one's loyalty, one's life—that kind of pain was beyond words.
If only they had told her directly… if only they had given her a reason, a justification—perhaps she might have found a way to accept it.
Ever since reading the intelligence Natsuhiko had shown her, she had thought deeply about it, piecing together the truth behind it all.
Or rather… the truth behind him.
Rasa.
It had been his decision—one he had pushed forward, with the approval of Sunagakure's higher-ups.
To solidify his position as Kazekage, to erase the stain of his poor performance during the Third Great Ninja War, he needed results—tangible gains for the village.
And the easiest opportunity lay in the Land of Bears.
With Iwagakure forced to remain wary of Kumogakure, a gap had appeared—a chance Rasa could not ignore.
Sunagakure no longer needed to contend with Konoha directly, and within its borders, only Kirigakure continued to stir trouble.
If that trouble could be eliminated, they could focus entirely on confronting Iwagakure.
And as for how to calm Kirigakure…
The answer had already been given.
Her.
The kunoichi who had slain more Kirigakure operatives than anyone else. The wielder of a rare kekkei genkai—valuable not only in battle, but in research.
She was the price.
The offering.
The solution.
She had been abandoned. Deceived. Sent to die without ever being told—without ever being given the chance to choose.
"Even if they had just told me…" Pakura lowered her head, her body trembling faintly. "Even if they had ordered me in the village's name… even then… even then—!"
"If they had told you, you might have refused—or worse, something could have leaked," Kakashi interrupted calmly, his tone devoid of judgment. "And if it had been framed as a mission, it would have left traces. Risks they couldn't afford."
He met her gaze, his expression unchanging.
"So you had to remain in the dark. You had to go to your death without knowing. And you understand this as well—afterward, your body would still have been taken for study."
There was no cruelty in his words, only blunt truth.
"They believed you wouldn't accept it. And more importantly, they were already at their limit. They couldn't wait, and they couldn't afford to lose. Your fate…" he paused briefly, "…was decided long ago."
It was the truth.
And Pakura knew it.
Had she been given such a mission openly, she would have hesitated. She might even have refused. And even if she had accepted, it would likely have been alone—perhaps accompanied only by a handful of Anbu sent to ensure the task was carried out.
A mission with no return.
A sacrifice dressed in silence.
Once she chose to refuse the mission, all of Rasa's plans would collapse.
And if she were to abandon it midway, leaving the Anbu trailing behind, the mission would automatically be deemed a failure.
The risk was far too great—far safer, far wiser, to say nothing at all.
After a long pause, Pakura finally lifted her head. Her eyes were cold, almost detached, and she fixed her gaze on Kakashi for a long moment before speaking in a measured, biting tone.
"And what about Konoha?" she asked. "What exactly is your village thinking? Sending me here just to watch Kirigakure deal with me—to make me lose all hope so that you can swoop in and 'save' me?"
"No," Kakashi replied, shaking his head gently. "The captain's orders were clear: you were already dead. You were to be eliminated by Kirigakure's shinobi, and before your body could be recovered, Sunagakure's Anbu would intervene—either to retrieve it or destroy it entirely."
From his pocket, Kakashi drew a scroll, the kanji for "corpse" boldly inscribed across its surface.
It was clear that every contingency had been planned. This mission had not only been approved, but jointly sanctioned by Hiruzen Sarutobi and Minato Namikaze. With such backing, there would be no shortage of resources.
Yet as she listened, Pakura's expression darkened.
So this was Konoha's intent—to erase her completely from the shinobi world… and, in doing so, fracture the already fragile relationship between Sunagakure and Kirigakure.
By Kakashi's account, they would impersonate Sunagakure's Anbu and carry out the aftermath themselves.
Such an outcome would never satisfy Kirigakure's expectations. And when that happened, the conclusion would be inevitable—
Sunagakure had broken its word.
What followed would be continued harassment, perhaps even escalation—conflict that might grow sharper, more relentless than before.
The thought stirred something uneasy within her.
That village… it had been her home, the place that had raised her.
And yet—
Strangely, beneath the bitterness, there was also a flicker of something else.
A grim, fleeting sense of satisfaction.
Was this what revenge felt like?
She had given everything to that village—her loyalty, her strength, her life. And in return, she had been cast aside.
Did she not have the right to repay that betrayal?
"…What a despicable plan."
After a long silence, she closed her eyes and spoke, her voice low and steady.
"Was this your captain's idea? Who is he?"
"You've already met him," Kakashi replied, his tone sharpening slightly as his expression grew more serious. "He's the one who captured you. The commander of our Third Division."
He paused, then added,
"And in the future… he will be your commander as well."
"So it's him…" Pakura exhaled softly, something unreadable passing through her gaze. "Then it seems I'll be joining the Anbu… Konoha's Anbu, no less. Serving under the very person who took me prisoner."
The memory remained vivid in her mind.
That man—young, yet overwhelmingly powerful. Ruthless. Unpredictable.
And yet, for all that, she realized something unsettling.
She did not even know his name.
Not his identity. Not even a codename.
"Who is he?" she asked at last. "Your captain must have a name."
Kakashi met her gaze.
"Remember it well," he said quietly. "He is Konoha's Nightingale."
...
Within Yugakure, inside an abandoned building hidden from prying eyes, Natsuhiko stood in silence, his expression calm as he regarded the four Kumogakure Anbu before him.
Their condition was poor—broken, battered—but after being tended to by the Senju squad, they had regained consciousness. At the very least, they were no longer unconscious.
Yet the fear had not left them.
It lingered plainly on their faces, impossible to conceal.
The four Kumogakure Anbu could hardly process what had just happened. In barely ten seconds, one man had incapacitated them with such flawless, almost instantaneous precision that it felt surreal. Even knowing who they were facing—after all, it was Konoha's Nightingale—they still could not fully accept the reality of their defeat.
"Awake already?" Natsuhiko's voice, when he spoke, carried a sudden warmth, gentle yet calm. "I apologize for putting you in this state. But I trust the leaders of Kumogakure will understand—after all, we are still at war, aren't we?"
His words drew the four Anbu's attention immediately. Since waking, they had been preoccupied with fear and suspicion, wondering what this Nightingale of Konoha intended for them. Their chakra had been sealed, and the poisons they carried removed—clear signs of interrogation—but now, looking at Natsuhiko, they sensed something different from what they had expected.
According to his explanation, there was no contradiction. Kumo and Konoha had never signed a ceasefire, and technically, they remained enemies. In that light, encountering each other on the battlefield—and even being captured—was a natural consequence of their hostilities.
"What… what do you want from us?" One Anbu finally asked, his voice low and hesitant, as if speaking aloud might summon death itself. "We are only ordinary Anbu. There is nothing we could possibly offer you in terms of information."
"Relax," Natsuhiko said softly, shaking his head. His tone remained warm, but there was a subtle edge beneath it, an unspoken command that pressed upon them like a weight. "I am not interested in intelligence on Kumogakure. My mission concerns only Yugakure. That is all the information I need."
"Only Yugakure?" another Anbu ventured, his words uncertain. "But why do you assume we would have that kind of information…?"
"Whether you do or not, I don't know. What I do know is this: do not try to be clever." Natsuhiko cut him off gently, yet the softness of his voice belied a pressure that made the four men's hearts pound.
"I have not struck you to kill, nor have I ordered my men to interrogate you. Consider this your chance. Fail to seize it, and I will have no choice but to act… after all, we are still at war. And remember, the information I require concerns only Yugakure—it does not involve Kumogakure's internal affairs.
"Moreover," he continued, his eyes glinting faintly, "You've seen my entry in your handbook, haven't you? Talk, and we all have an easy night. Keep quiet, and you won't be dying as heroes. Think it over."
Natsuhiko fell silent then, merely standing and observing the four Anbu, while behind him, the four Senju Anbu gradually stepped into view, aligning themselves in a perfect line behind him.
The room was dim; moonlight filtered through the broken window in slivers, casting pale silver across the floor. Yet it revealed little of their features. The long, dark silhouettes stretching behind Natsuhiko and his squad were terrifying in their simplicity, like five Shuras manifest in human form.
A palpable pressure pressed upon the Kumogakure Anbu, an invisible yet undeniable force that seemed to demand obedience. Any refusal or hesitation would be met with merciless consequences. Death might be the simplest outcome—but the most terrifying prospect was not the death itself, but the unimaginable torment they would endure before it.
In that quiet, darkened room, the five figures before them seemed less like men and more like inevitability itself—inescapable, merciless, and absolute.
This was absolutely not the outcome they had wanted to face, nor was it the ending they had ever imagined. And as Natsuhiko had already stated, the Nightingale of Konoha was the number one danger on their Anbu handbook—a figure so formidable that even encountering him could justify abandoning a mission. Yet here they were, confronted with a choice that they had never expected to have.
"You have sixty seconds to decide. Don't make me wait," Natsuhiko said softly, his gaze calm but piercing, observing their hesitation.
"Think carefully," he added, almost in a whisper. "Perhaps you are fearless warriors who do not fear death, but can you endure the feeling of living worse than dying?"
His words seemed to make the very air in the room heavier. Death, for Anbu, was hardly something terrifying. Perhaps for ordinary shinobi as well, it was just a part of life. But the torment of a fate worse than death—an existence so excruciating it strips away dignity and hope—was something no one could face without fear, not even an Anbu. Only those who had transcended pain itself, or possessed a will so unyielding it bordered on the unimaginable—like Morino Ibiki—could endure such suffering.
Time dragged on, each second stretching into a weighty eternity. The small room grew oppressively silent, a silence thickened by an almost tangible pressure that pressed down on every breath.
Finally, one of the Kumogakure Anbu could bear it no longer. He raised his head slightly, his eyes locking onto Natsuhiko's. It was almost at the last second of the sixty-second allowance that he spoke, his voice strained and reluctant.
"We… we do have some information," he admitted, his tone heavy with resignation. "We arrived here several days before you, and during that time, we visited the head of Yugakure several times and investigated many areas. Our most recent visit was just an hour before you arrived."
"Good," Natsuhiko said softly, nodding. His tone remained gentle, yet carried a weight that compelled obedience. "Continue. The more cooperative you are, the sooner you can rid yourselves of this trouble. Once we verify your information, we will let you go."
"I only hope you mean what you say," the Anbu murmured, his sigh deep but resolute. He squared his shoulders and met Natsuhiko's gaze with determination.
"Outside Yugakure," he began, "there is a small forest, and within it, a cave that houses some mysterious stone statues. We have also detected signs of human activity there, though we never actually saw anyone. If nothing has changed, this may well be the location of that secret cult.
"Our earlier visits to the head of Yugakure were intended to confirm the details of that site."
A cave in the forest outside Yugakure, lined with strange stone statues… Natsuhiko nodded slightly. He could not yet be certain of the truth, but the lead was promising. Until now, he had no information whatsoever; now, at last, he had something to follow.
..
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