Natsuhiko had no idea that, having just dealt with Pakura, he had already invited yet another layer of trouble upon himself.
For now, his thoughts were occupied elsewhere—entangled in the affairs of the Uchiha. After all, in his possession lay something the clan coveted above all else: a coveted position within the ANBU. It had been a week since his last meeting with Uchiha Shin, and in that time, missions had proven to be the perfect distraction. Especially when they took him far from the village, a single assignment could stretch across several days, quietly eroding the passage of time.
"I wonder," he murmured to himself, lightly tapping his fingers against the table, "whether the seed I planted has begun to change… or if it remains as it was."
The path he had laid out for Uchiha Shin seemed, at a glance, utterly impossible—little more than an illusion of opportunity. And yet Natsuhiko knew better. If handled with care, if guided with precision, even the most improbable course could be made real.
Because Uchiha Fugaku… was, in certain respects, hopelessly foolish.
A crystal-clear life-or-death choice had been placed right in front of him—save the Hokage's life, or follow Danzo's orders.
And he had actually chosen wrong, obediently following Danzo's instructions. Could you believe it?
Even though Root had indeed mobilized at that time, and the reflection of the Sharingan had appeared in the Nine-Tails' eyes.
But had Danzo actually deployed all of Root against the Uchiha?
And would Danzo have dared to attack the Uchiha without hesitation while the Nine-Tails was rampaging?
Moreover, the Uchiha at that time, even if they couldn't win, could have defended themselves. When everything was over, they could have filed a counter-accusation—for example, claiming they wanted to help but were obstructed by Danzo.
That would have been ten thousand times better than being identified by others as having not mobilized at all, almost defaulting to admitting involvement in the Nine-Tails incident!
Making such a disastrous choice on such a life-or-death decision—Natsuhiko expressed that he truly couldn't understand it!
Especially since this guy was constantly wavering, never knowing which path to choose.
He put on a facade of being fair and just, but in reality, he had no opinions of his own and could only lean toward whichever side was more powerful.
For such a person to be clan head, especially at that critical juncture—it would have been a miracle if the entire clan hadn't been annihilated!
Natsuhiko didn't want to waste such excellent resources as the Uchiha, so he had to make some choices. Since Uchiha Fugaku was unreliable, why not create someone more reliable himself?
Of course, "more reliable" was relative. This was an age where mediocrity was the norm, where one simply compared degrees of failure. Natsuhiko was confident that, with himself pulling the strings from the shadows, things could hardly turn out worse than they had under Fugaku.
Still, it would require resolve—resolve from that man himself. And in the future, careful control would be essential.
As for whether Fugaku possessed the Mangekyō Sharingan…
Natsuhiko could not say for certain. But even if he did, it was not enough to instill fear. As long as he avoided falling prey to genjutsu, escape would always remain an option. His speed alone—his near-broken ability to traverse space—was something Fugaku would struggle to counter, Mangekyō or not.
"Though," Natsuhiko admitted inwardly, "dealing with him directly wouldn't be easy either."
The Mangekyō Sharingan was an existence both strange and terrifying beyond compare. Natsuhiko, as he was now, could face down a hundred shinobi without flinching. But in a one-on-one confrontation against the Mangekyō… he could not claim certainty.
The Sharingan was already infamous for its overwhelming strength in single combat. And once it evolved into the Mangekyō, that power reached a nightmarish extreme.
If its wielder cast aside all restraint—burning through their vision to unleash its techniques, even summoning Susanoo—then their strength would not merely remain confined to duels. It would expand, transforming them into a force capable of dominating entire battlefields.
After all, it was the ultimate manifestation of Yin Release—its offensive and defensive power standing at an almost untouchable height. No matter how bold Natsuhiko might be, if his own attacks lacked the necessary force, there would be little he could do against Susanoo.
If only I could reach the level of Hashirama Senju, he mused idly, to summon a Wood Golem… or even the Thousand-Armed Buddha.
Of course, Uchiha Fugaku hardly deserved to be met with techniques of that caliber. Those were powers meant to contend with a fully matured Susanoo—perhaps even its complete form.
The thought lingered for a moment before Natsuhiko suddenly paused, then let out a quiet, self-amused breath, shaking his head.
He had not even confirmed whether Fugaku possessed the Mangekyō Sharingan, yet his mind had already raced so far ahead. It seemed, in a way, that he was overestimating his opponent.
Preparation was never a mistake—but neither was it wise to underestimate himself.
There had been a time when he failed to recognize his own strength, when hesitation had entangled him so deeply that he could not decide how to act. He had brooded over it endlessly, to the point where even his thoughts began to feel numb and unresponsive—a state he now recognized as dangerous.
In truth, I'm far stronger than I give myself credit for… so why overthink it?
Leaning back into his chair, Natsuhiko let his weight sink into it, stretching slightly as if to ease both body and mind into a more comfortable state.
But just then, a sharp, urgent knock at the door shattered the moment.
He straightened immediately.
After all, he was a division commander—certain appearances had to be maintained.
Once composed, he called for the visitor to enter. Yet the moment he learned the reason for the interruption, his expression shifted in an instant.
..
"Let me confirm—you're Pakura of Sunagakure, correct?"
Inside the Third Division's lounge, a man stepped forward to block Pakura's path just as she was about to find a place to rest and wait for Natsuhiko to assign her an identity and quarters.
It was Aburame Tatsuma.
His voice was low, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth. An oppressive chill seemed to cling to him, seeping into the air around him. Though his words took the form of a question, there was no room for denial in his tone.
Pakura frowned slightly, studying the man before her, unable to make sense of the situation. Judging by his attire, he was clearly a member of the ANBU as well.
Recalling what Natsuhiko had said earlier—that Konoha was far from peaceful beneath its surface—she hesitated for only a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and giving a small nod.
When one stood beneath another's roof, there was no avoiding the need to bow one's head.
Her identity was far too sensitive. It was precisely because of that sensitivity that she wished to avoid unnecessary trouble.
She had already made her choice, and having done so, she intended to follow through. She was a rootless person now, severed from her past; if she had found soil willing to accept her, then she would prove her worth within it.
"I am Pakura," she said calmly. "But not the Pakura of Sunagakure. That woman… is already dead."
"Then it is you."
Aburame Tatsuma paid no heed to her distinction, his gaze as indifferent as ever as it settled on her.
"In that case, you'll come with us."
"Come with you?" Pakura's frown deepened, unease flickering in her eyes. "Why? And who exactly are you?"
"Who we are is none of your concern," he replied flatly. "But as a former shinobi of Sunagakure, your presence within the ANBU raises serious issues."
As he spoke, chakra began to stir faintly around him—subtle at first, then unmistakable. The same shift rippled through the others who had arrived with him. They were all members of Root.
"You have two choices," Aburame Tatsuma continued, his voice like ice. "Come with me… or be taken."
The moment his words fell, several strands of cold, oppressive chakra locked onto Pakura at once, pressing down on her like an invisible weight.
It was not a bluff.
If anything went wrong, they would act without hesitation.
Pakura's fists clenched tightly at her sides. Though she had no clear understanding of what was unfolding before her, one thing was certain—she had stepped into serious trouble.
A faint bitterness welled up in her chest, tinged with quiet sorrow. For someone like her, a figure no different from a missing-nin, choosing to join another village—worse still, to enter the ANBU—had perhaps never been a wise decision. And yet, she had never truly been given a choice. That man—Natsuhiko, the one they called "Nightingale"—had been far too forceful, leaving her no room to refuse.
Closing her eyes briefly, she forced herself to suppress the anger rising within her. It took a long moment before her tightly clenched fists slowly loosened.
When she opened her eyes again, she gave a small nod. "I understand. I—"
"Wait."
Before she could finish, a figure stepped forward from behind.
It was Kakashi Hatake.
His voice cut cleanly through the tension as he approached, his gaze settling sharply on the group before him. "Who are you," he asked evenly, "and why have you come to the Third Division to take one of our people?"
"Who we are is none of your concern, Captain Kakashi," Aburame Tatsuma replied with a faint frown, though his composure quickly returned to its usual cold detachment. "Your duty is simply to follow orders."
Kakashi paused for a fraction of a second, his expression shifting as recognition flickered behind his masked gaze. "You…," he murmured, as if recalling something long buried. "Root, isn't it? I didn't expect to run into you here."
The memory surfaced clearly now—after his first mission with Natsuhiko, when they had returned and encountered members of this shadowy faction. That experience had left a deep impression on him. It had been the moment he realized that within Konoha, alongside the ANBU, there existed another organization just as secretive… and far more unsettling.
Now, hearing that same voice again, he instantly recognized the man who had once intervened on their behalf.
"If you know who we are," Tatsuma said flatly, "then you should know what to do."
There was a hint of surprise in his tone that Kakashi still remembered him, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. His voice remained as cold and impersonal as ever.
"Step aside," he continued, "or I will be forced to act."
Kakashi did not move.
"Do you have an order from the Hokage?" he asked instead, his voice low but firm.
"To reassign an ANBU operative requires the Hokage's authorization. Without it, I will not allow you to take one of ours."
"We act under Lord Danzō's command."
At the mention of Danzo Shimura, Tatsuma's voice grew even colder, and the chakra surrounding him surged, locking onto Kakashi with unmistakable intent.
"I'll give you one last chance," he said. "Stand down. Otherwise, you will be treated as a target."
Kakashi's gaze remained steady, unyielding.
"Sorry," he replied calmly, though a chill had entered his tone. "I don't answer to any 'Lord Danzō.' I only follow the Hokage's orders."
As his words fell, he drew his blade in one smooth motion.
The sound of steel rang out—and in the same instant, nearly every ANBU operative within the lounge followed suit, unsheathing their weapons as one.
The air grew heavy, suffocating, as an oppressive tension filled the room, thick enough to choke on.
Behind his mask, Tatsuma's expression darkened. This was the first time he had encountered someone who dared to defy Danzō's authority so openly.
"I see."
He took a slow breath, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword. In the next moment, countless tiny black shapes began to pour from his body, writhing and spreading like a living shadow.
"ANBU operative Kakashi Hatake of Konoha," he declared coldly, "for violating regulations and defying superior orders, you are to be treated as a rogue ninja. Attack."
The instant his words ended, every Root operative moved as one, weapons drawn, their killing intent spilling forth without restraint. It surged forward like a tidal wave, engulfing both Kakashi and Pakura.
The sheer pressure forced Pakura to grit her teeth.
She had heard the name Danzō before, though only in passing. She did not know his exact position, nor the extent of his authority—but she could already tell he was no ordinary figure.
And the fact that Kakashi was willing to stand against him…
That could only mean one thing. This was not merely Kakashi's decision—it was the will of the Third Division's commander.
It was Natsuhiko's will.
Could it be… that they were truly willing to clash with one of Konoha's highest authorities—for the sake of someone like her, someone whose very identity was so precarious?
Pakura drew in a slow breath, silently gathering her chakra. If they were willing to stand for her, to regard her as one of their own, then she could not afford to falter or disgrace that trust.
"Since that's the case… then I—"
"Who gave you the audacity to cause trouble in the Third Division?"
The voice cut through the tension like a blade—familiar, yet carrying a faint strangeness that made it all the more arresting.
At the instant it sounded, nearly everyone turned toward the doorway of the lounge.
Their commander had arrived.
And yet, something about him felt different.
His tone remained as gentle as ever, soft and almost pleasant to the ear—but beneath that calm surface lay a coldness so sharp it seeped into the bones of everyone present.
"Nightingale…"
Aburame Tatsuma drew a quiet breath, his gaze settling on Natsuhiko, tinged with something faintly complex.
Once, they had tried to recruit this man—only to be refused without hesitation. As one of Danzo Shimura's personal guards, Tatsuma knew well that Danzō had even considered forcing him into Root by more coercive means. Yet the Hokage had vetoed that plan, leaving Danzō with nothing but lingering resentment.
And now, Natsuhiko had become… troublesome.
The events in Sunagakure were no secret within Root. As operatives who thrived in the shadows, they were keenly aware of the terrifying feats Natsuhiko had accomplished. Fear was inevitable—but so, too, was respect. In the shinobi world, strength commanded reverence, and Natsuhiko's overwhelming display of power had earned exactly that.
And yet, despite that respect, they now stood on opposing sides.
Because they were shinobi—Root shinobi above all—and obedience to Danzō's will was absolute.
"Division Commander Nightingale," Tatsuma began again, steadying himself. "We are here under Lord Danzō's orders—"
"Save it."
Natsuhiko stepped forward, placing himself squarely in front of Kakashi Hatake and Pakura, shielding them both before cutting Tatsuma off without the slightest courtesy.
"This is the ANBU," he said calmly, though the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "Not Root. Since when did Danzō's orders carry authority here? And who gave you the right to declare an ANBU operative a rogue ninja?"
His words left little room for rebuttal.
As the commander of an ANBU division, Natsuhiko possessed both the authority and the standing to challenge such actions outright. Though ANBU and Root might appear similar from the outside, they were fundamentally separate systems—and Natsuhiko's rise to this position had come, in no small part, from severing the influence Danzō once tried to exert over the ANBU.
Put simply, Danzō had no authority here—he never had.
"Division Commander Nightingale…" Tatsuma's voice lowered, colder still. "Are you also going to defy Lord Danzō's orders?"
Aburame Tatsuma knew at once that something had gone terribly wrong. Yet for the sake of Danzo Shimura, he could not retreat—nor could he afford to fail the mission entrusted to him.
"Defy Lord Danzō's orders?"
A faint smile touched Natsuhiko's lips.
"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough," he said softly. "Let me repeat myself."
His voice remained calm, almost gentle, yet beneath it lurked a danger that coiled tighter with every word.
"This is the ANBU—not Root. And yet you, a Root operative, dare to storm in here, seize one of our people by force, and even presume to label an ANBU captain a rogue ninja…"
He paused, his gaze sharpening ever so slightly.
"If anything, it seems to me that you're the rogue."
The words fell lightly, but their weight was suffocating. As Natsuhiko spoke, Tatsuma felt that invisible pressure mounting, tightening around him like a noose. By the time the final sentence left Natsuhiko's lips, it was as though the very air had been drained from his lungs.
To be branded a rogue ninja by an ANBU division commander, under such clear justification—
That meant…
"Watch out!"
Tatsuma's shout tore through the air as his hands flew into motion, forming seals at blinding speed. A swarm of pitch-black insects burst forth, weaving themselves into a spreading net.
But he was too late.
As a division commander of the ANBU, Natsuhiko possessed both the authority and the grounds to pass such judgment—and the moment he did, he acted without hesitation.
In an instant, he vanished.
Before anyone could react, he had already appeared behind a Root operative. His blade flashed from its sheath like lightning, a streak of cold blue cutting through the air with lethal precision as it traced across the man's throat.
A faint hum followed.
The shinobi barely registered the chill at his neck before warmth began to spill from it—life draining away before he could even comprehend what had happened.
But Natsuhiko did not linger to watch death take hold.
His chakra shifted, and in the blink of an eye he was gone again, reappearing at the side of another target.
All that earlier exchange with Tatsuma had never been an attempt to avoid conflict. On the contrary—he had already decided that these men would die.
A group of Root operatives barging into ANBU territory, posturing arrogantly and attempting to seize someone right before his eyes… if he failed to seize such an opportunity, then he would truly be a fool.
The ANBU was not Root. They had no obligation to bow to Danzō.
And as a division commander, it was his duty to protect his subordinates—especially someone like Pakura, whose identity was sensitive and whose allegiance was still newly forged. If she was to remain, then she had to be reassured… and protected.
Danzō really is a generous man, Natsuhiko mused inwardly, almost amused.
He had originally intended to proceed more gradually, but this unexpected move had forced the situation into his hands. In a way, it made him feel he ought to thank Danzō properly.
After all, had he not used that lizard to infiltrate Danzō's laboratory and obtain fragments of Hashirama Senju's remains, he might not possess his current strength.
Yes… Danzō truly was a "good man."
And good men deserved to be repaid.
His blade swept out once more, swift and merciless, cutting down another Root operative before the spreading swarm of insects could reach him.
But after felling two in rapid succession, Natsuhiko withdrew without hesitation, his figure flickering away from his original position.
The insect nets were already expanding rapidly, engulfing the remaining Root shinobi and sealing off space with writhing darkness.
He could likely have claimed another life or two—but he had no intention of letting those disgusting insects touch him.
Though his knowledge of the Aburame clan was not exhaustive—each member harboring different species within their bodies—he understood enough. There were members of that clan within his own division, and he knew just how troublesome, how repulsive those insects could be.
Some might even carry deadly toxins. A mere brush—or even the faintest inhalation of their scent—could lead to consequences no one could predict.
Natsuhiko had once fought Chiyo and developed resistance to her poisons, but vigilance was a virtue he had no intention of abandoning.
"Spread out," he ordered coldly. "Secure the entrances and exits—don't let a single one of them escape."
In a blur, Natsuhiko's figure returned to its original position. His hands moved swiftly through a sequence of seals, and at the same time, his voice rang out with calm authority as he issued orders to the surrounding ANBU.
For a fleeting instant, hesitation flickered across their ranks. They had all seen it—seen him kill without pause.
But such doubt belonged only to ordinary men. As members of the ANBU, they suppressed it almost immediately. Discipline prevailed. Moving as one, they followed Natsuhiko's command, spreading out with practiced precision to seal every possible exit from the lounge, cutting off any chance of escape.
By the time they had repositioned themselves, Natsuhiko had already completed his hand seals.
Only then did he release the technique he had been gathering.
"Water Release: Water Severing Wave!"
The moment his hands came together, a massive torrent of water erupted into existence, spiraling upward like a raging cyclone. It swelled and surged, expanding with overwhelming force before crashing forward like a collapsing waterfall, roaring toward Aburame Tatsuma and the Root operatives.
Using Water Release would inevitably interfere with the markers of his Flying Thunder God technique—but if he did not deal with those insects first, his next moves would become troublesome.
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
Seeing the oncoming deluge, Tatsuma immediately grasped Natsuhiko's intent. He did not even need to give the order—one of the Root shinobi reacted at once, forming seals at high speed. In the blink of an eye, a towering wall of earth rose up, solid and imposing, to intercept the flood.
But it was not enough.
The torrent slammed into the wall with crushing force. Under the sheer weight of the water—and the immense chakra infused within it—the barrier trembled violently before collapsing outright, shattered by the relentless surge. The waters did not stop; instead, they spread and gathered, forming a churning river that carved through the room.
"Damn it…"
A flicker of unease crossed Tatsuma's mind. Even though they had dispersed, countless insects were still swept away by the rushing current, torn from formation and scattered.
He had always known Natsuhiko was powerful—but that strength, in his understanding, had largely stemmed from his mastery of the Flying Thunder God. There had been reports of his proficiency in other techniques as well, yet this display… far exceeded expectations.
Such formidable ninjutsu, combined with space-time movement—
Is he trying to emulate the Second Hokage?
The water roared on, relentless and deafening, but Natsuhiko paid no attention to Tatsuma's thoughts.
His gaze remained fixed on the battlefield, and as the flood scattered the insects, his sensory perception expanded to its limit. In that instant, every single one of them fell within his awareness.
There were countless—an overwhelming swarm. Some drifted aimlessly through the air, others clustered tightly around the Root operatives, and still others were caught in the current, swept along by the raging water. None escaped his detection.
But he knew this level of focus came at a cost.
The strain on his chakra was significant. He could not afford to prolong the fight.
He had to end it quickly.
With that resolve, Natsuhiko's hands moved once more, forming seals in rapid succession as his chakra surged again, vast and surging like a storm about to break.
"Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet!"
At his command, the river he had created began to churn violently. From its depths, several massive water dragons rose, twisting upward with terrifying force. They let out thunderous roars as they coiled into form—then, without hesitation, they lunged toward the Root shinobi.
"Secret Technique: Parasitic Insects—Tempest!"
Faced with the onslaught, Aburame Tatsuma reacted instantly. Forming a seal with one hand, he drew upon his chakra, gathering it rapidly as he exerted control over the scattered swarm.
Under his command, the insects regrouped in clusters, converging in precise formations. Then they began to spin—faster and faster—until, in mere moments, the writhing masses transformed into whirling columns.
One after another, the parasitic insects became living tornadoes, spiraling violently as they rose to meet the charging water dragons.
The tornadoes of parasitic insects spun with violent intensity, their shrill hum filling the air as they surged forward and collided head-on with the water dragons Natsuhiko had summoned.
For a moment, the battlefield became a chaotic storm of motion—whirling columns of insects entangling with roaring serpents of water. They tore into one another relentlessly, biting, shredding, devouring. Yet it did not take long before the balance tipped. One by one, the water dragons were swallowed by the churning vortexes of insects, their forms collapsing under the relentless assault.
But the victory came at a steep cost.
Countless insects fell from the sky, their tiny bodies scattering across the ground and into the rushing water below. They drifted lifelessly in the current, forming dense clusters that floated aimlessly—clear evidence that they had perished in staggering numbers.
"Secret Technique: Parasitic Insects—Swarm!"
Even as the two forces clashed, Aburame Tatsuma had already begun preparing his next move. Natsuhiko noticed immediately, and without the slightest hesitation, he surged forward using his Water Body Flicker.
Yet Tatsuma was just as quick.
Almost the instant Natsuhiko moved, the technique was completed. A massive wave of parasitic insects burst forth from Tatsuma's body once more, spreading outward in a dense tide as they converged upon Natsuhiko's path, sealing off his advance.
Natsuhiko's rushing figure faltered for the briefest of moments.
It had to be said—Tatsuma's response was skillful. Knowing he could not directly track Natsuhiko's movements, he instead chose to cut off his avenues of attack, turning the battlefield itself into a trap.
But Natsuhiko was not so easily cornered.
His control over his body bordered on the unnatural. Even at extreme speed, he could halt himself in an instant.
With a sudden deceleration, his figure blurred—
—and vanished.
The Flying Thunder God activated once more, pulling him out of the encroaching swarm in an instant and depositing him beside a lone Root operative.
His blade moved lightly.
A single stroke was enough.
Deprived of the protection of his insects, the shinobi's throat opened beneath the edge of steel before he could react.
And Natsuhiko did not stop.
Almost in the same breath as the strike, his form flickered again, reappearing beside another target. The points he chose were precise—locations where the earlier water dragons had drained away the surrounding water, leaving gaps before the flood could reclaim them. He exploited those fleeting openings without hesitation.
Yet whether by instinct or sheer luck, that troublesome Aburame Tatsuma remained positioned within areas still covered by water, making him a far more difficult target.
Still, Natsuhiko did not rely solely on his marked points to wield the Flying Thunder God.
There were always other ways.
A low hum cut through the air—
Another strike.
This time, the Root shinobi managed a partial response, twisting just enough to raise his blade in defense. It was clear he was a veteran, hardened by countless battles.
But against an opponent who could traverse space itself, such efforts were futile without an equally extraordinary defense—or mastery of similar techniques.
The blade fell.
And with it, another life.
One by one, they became offerings beneath Natsuhiko's sword, their resistance little more than an illusion.
"Fall back! Regroup around me!"
Tatsuma had issued the command the moment Natsuhiko resumed his assault. Inside, his heart felt as though it were bleeding.
He had brought only six Root operatives with him. Within Root, teams were typically formed in pairs—meaning that in less than a minute since the battle began, Natsuhiko had already wiped out two full teams.
The training of a qualified Root shinobi was no simple task. Losses like this were not something anyone could bear lightly.
At last, the two remaining operatives converged at Tatsuma's side. In response, he summoned a dense mass of insects to surround them, forming a writhing defensive barrier.
Only then did his fury finally break free.
"Nightingale! Do you even realize what you're doing?!"
His voice rang out, sharp with anger—and perhaps, beneath it, the faintest trace of regret. He could not help but wonder why he had come here alone to begin with, walking straight into this nightmare.
Natsuhiko stood before him, calm and unshaken.
"Of course I do," he replied quietly.
Natsuhiko regarded Aburame Tatsuma with quiet composure. With a casual flick of his wrist, he shook the blood from his blade, the crimson droplets scattering across the already soaked ground. Then, almost unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"I don't know what gave you the confidence to come here—into my territory—at a time like this," he said lightly. "Perhaps the Hokage is occupied with other matters. Perhaps you thought that if you forced things far enough, made this into an established fact, there would be no room left for him to intervene."
His gaze sharpened, though the smile never left his face.
"But did you consider something first?" he asked softly. "Do you really think I'm someone you can afford to provoke?"
A chill ran down Tatsuma's spine as he looked at that expression. It was gentle—almost pleasant—and yet, for reasons he could not explain, it felt colder than any killing intent he had ever faced.
"…Are you planning to openly oppose Lord Danzō?" he asked, his voice tightening despite himself.
"Oppose him?" Natsuhiko tilted his head slightly, as though the question itself puzzled him. "Lord Danzō is certainly formidable—after all, he commands Root. But don't forget…"
His tone shifted, subtle but unmistakable.
"I am ANBU."
As he spoke, he lifted a hand in a small, almost idle gesture. Behind him, Kakashi Hatake immediately understood.
With a swift movement, Kakashi leapt to Natsuhiko's side and raised his voice.
"All shinobi capable of Fire Release—step forward!"
There was no hesitation this time. The ANBU operatives responded at once, those proficient in Fire Release stepping out and gathering without a word. Among them, Pakura moved quietly into position as well, her expression resolute.
Natsuhiko's smile deepened slightly as he looked back at Tatsuma and the two remaining Root operatives.
"My Water Release didn't quite wipe out your insects," he said, almost conversationally. "So now I'm curious… let's see whether they can withstand fire."
As he spoke, his blade shimmered once more with that cold, azure light.
"From the moment you stepped into the ANBU and tried to take my subordinate by force, your fate was already decided."
His voice softened, almost to a whisper.
"So… you may as well accept it."
Then, without the slightest pause—
"Attack."
The command fell like a final verdict, sealing everything that followed.