Ishiki strode swiftly toward the shimmering bubble—only to find that the shinobi trapped within had chosen death over capture. Flames had erupted from inside, self-immolation through jutsu. The bubble shattered, but it was too late. The fire had already consumed its caster.
Chakra didn't care for intentions. It didn't discriminate between user or enemy. Under flame, all burned equally.
Fair and impartial—mercilessly so.
"One left. Take him—we're moving to support the captain." Hyūga Tokuma tossed the bound shinobi toward Ishiki. "Thanks."
"No problem," Ishiki replied, catching the unconscious man. It wasn't until then that he noticed how limp the captive was—already blacked out. Tokuma had handed him off for a clear reason: he needed to keep his Byakugan active, scanning the terrain. Babysitting prisoners wasn't an option.
Ishiki didn't mind. A captive was a useful piece on the board—worst case, he could always use him as a meat shield.
"Let me take him," said Muta, stepping up. His voice calm, but the faint chittering from beneath his cloak betrayed the presence of his insects, restless for work. "He won't give us anything even if he wakes up. Better I just take control—maybe extract something that way."
"No rush. Let's find the captain first—he may have a better plan." Ishiki passed the man to Muta anyway. He wasn't heartless. He just couldn't stand the idea of starving bugs.
Muta hoisted the captive with one hand. Beetles skittered into the man's clothes almost instantly. He adjusted his glasses, then moved to follow Tokuma and Ishiki, heading in the direction Inuzuka Ze had disappeared.
They hadn't gone far before Ze came charging back toward them—low to the ground, on all fours, panting, his expression grim.
"He ran?" Tokuma asked, blunt and surgical.
"Yeah. Got away," Ze muttered, reverting from his beast mimicry state.
Ishiki's gaze dropped to the gash on Ze's chest—a shallow but precise knife wound.
"Captain, let me patch that up," Ishiki said, already reaching out. One hand released a ripple of Hamon energy; the other surged with green healing chakra. The dual powers spread over Ze's wound like silk, weaving regeneration and life together. The bleeding stopped, the wound closed.
"That's enough," Ze said firmly, brushing him off.
Ishiki could've erased it completely in five minutes—but he stepped back. Orders were orders.
"The explosion earlier blew our cover," Ze continued. "We relocate, then interrogate. If nothing comes of it—we take the head."
Still deep within the borders of the Land of Grass, that kind of explosion would've drawn attention from Grass-nin and Iwa-nin alike. They needed to move.
They did—fast. No further ambushes came. But Ishiki noticed something. Ze kept looking at the prisoner. A strange expression on his face. Disbelief. Confusion. Maybe even guilt.
Ishiki filed it away.
A suspicion coiled in his mind. Those enemies—they weren't Iwa. Not Grass either. Their tactics were too precise. Their concealment too meticulous. It reeked of someone trying not to be recognized.
Konoha's Foundation.
Danzo's ghosts.
That would explain Ze's expression. He recognized them.
If they were Root, then interrogation was pointless. They weren't like other shinobi. They didn't have identities. No names. No feelings. No past. No future. Only missions. And for the mission, they'd sacrifice everything—including themselves.
Even talking was forbidden. Most were under curse seals—vocalizing secrets meant death, instantaneous and violent.
This was the real Foundation. The real "Root."
And yet Danzo's ideal was flawed. Those who best fit his vision never had the potential. The real talents—Kakashi (briefly a member), Tenzo (later Yamato), Kabuto, Sai—all turned on him. Orochimaru didn't even count—he was never loyal to begin with.
Danzo's Foundation? A graveyard of betrayal.
Still, Ishiki couldn't help but sneer. Danzo had really underestimated them. Two squads? That's all? And even they weren't pure Root—probably just a couple of Foundation shinobi leading standard ANBU.
Root's entire core numbered seventeen, Danzo included. Seventeen with special abilities. But none of these enemies had shown that kind of strength.
Had Danzo coordinated this with the Third? If not, why didn't Ze, Tokuma, or Muta attack Ishiki mid-mission? That would've been Danzo's style—turn the allies against him.
Unless this was a test. A probing strike. The real attack still coming. These nine were just fodder.
Ishiki stayed alert. He wanted Danzo dead—but the old bastard never left the village. Until Ishiki unlocked the right Stand for assassination, he didn't have the means to kill him quietly.
Still, letting Danzo keep scheming behind the scenes burned at him.
I need a way to draw that fossil out…
He kept pace, watching the others. Especially Ze. If Ze had received a separate mission from Root operatives, Ishiki needed to know. That lingering inner conflict on his face—he couldn't hide it from someone like Ishiki.
But Ze never looked at him.
Paranoia? Maybe. But paranoia had kept him alive this long.
They crossed through the borderland meadows into the forested mountains beyond, stopping at a hidden grove. Muta's bugs were already poised to burrow into the captive's skin when Ze raised a hand.
"Muta. Don't bother. He won't say anything useful."
Three sets of eyes turned to him.
"You know something?" Muta asked, without surprise.
Ishiki saw it now—Muta and Tokuma had noticed Ze's earlier change in expression too.
"I recognized them," Ze said. "They were shinobi selected by the Foundation."