The candlelight in Akari's room flickered as a wind passed through—though the windows were closed. He paused mid-sentence, brush hovering over parchment. That chakra… it was familiar.
"You can come in," he said softly, without turning.
A faint shimmer in the air revealed a figure—hooded, slim, moving with the effortless grace of a trained shadow.
"I expected tighter security," the figure said. The voice was feminine, low and calm.
Akari raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky Raien's not home. He doesn't like guests who enter through walls."
The hood came down. Dark hair tied in a tight braid. Eyes like deep pools of ink.
"Izumi," Akari said.
She gave a small nod. "You're still alive. That's comforting."
"And you're still with the Watchers, I assume?"
"I go where the wind shifts." She stepped closer. "But tonight, the wind brought a warning."
Akari gestured toward the scroll. "I already have plenty of those."
Izumi's gaze landed on the parchment, then returned to him. "This one's different. There's a mole in the village."
Akari's fingers curled slightly. "You're certain?"
"Very." Her voice hardened. "They passed information to the White Fang group two nights ago. About the fragment. And about you."
Akari stood. "Do you have a name?"
She hesitated. "Not yet. But it's someone with direct access to the Hokage's inner circle."
Akari's expression darkened. "Then I don't have much time."
He turned, sealing the scroll again with a swift hand sign. The paper vanished into his guard. "Thank you for the warning. I owe you."
Izumi smirked faintly. "You already do."
---
Elsewhere in Konoha, in a candlelit study lined with scrolls, Tobirama Senju read a report with narrowed eyes.
He did not move when the door opened.
"What did you find?" he asked.
A shinobi entered, cloaked in standard Anbu black. "The chamber is buried. Nothing remains. But the chakra residue was… intense."
"More than Akari could manage alone?"
"Yes. Which means he had help, or the chamber had layers we didn't account for."
Tobirama set the scroll down. "Keep watching him."
The shinobi hesitated. "With respect, sir, if he's holding that much power—shouldn't we contain him instead?"
Tobirama's gaze was cold. "Contain him? No. We let him believe he's free. That's when people like him reveal the most."
---
The next day, Akari stood in the training grounds—alone, eyes closed, breath steady. Chakra gathered silently around him, pooling beneath the surface of his skin.
Then, in a blur, he moved.
Lightning cracked across the field as he shot forward, leaving afterimages behind. He moved with perfect silence, cutting through dummy targets with the precision of a storm.
But he wasn't just training. He was feeling something—testing the strain of the scroll's seal inside his body. It was growing… heavier.
Suddenly, a kunai flew toward his head.
He tilted slightly. It missed.
"Raien," he said, without turning. "Sneaking up on me is getting harder."
Raien landed beside him with a grin. "That's a good sign. You sleep at all?"
"Barely."
Raien handed him a wrapped rice bun. "You need to keep your strength. Especially if the whispers are true."
Akari raised an eyebrow. "What whispers?"
Raien grew serious. "Word is… someone's leaking intel to the outside. About you."
Akari was silent for a long moment. "I know."
Raien tilted his head. "You do?"
"Someone I trust told me. And I believe her."
"Then what's the plan?"
Akari's violet eyes glinted. "We lay the bait."
---
That evening, a sealed message made its way into the Hokage Tower—addressed only to "the one who listens in silence." It contained only a single line:
"Come to the shrine beneath the second moon. The truth you seek will greet you there."
And someone read it. Alone. Without speaking a word.
---
In the forest outside Konoha, two cloaked figures stood beneath a small, forgotten shrine.
One moved cautiously. The other—Akari—stood waiting.
"You came," Akari said.
The other froze. "You…"
Akari's hand moved, slow but firm. "You've been feeding them information. You know what this scroll can do. But you gave away more than that. You told them about my mother."
The figure hesitated, then removed the hood. A young jōnin—barely older than Akari—stood before him.
"She—she was my teacher too," the man said, trembling. "But she hid things from all of us. I thought they were protecting her legacy."
Akari stepped closer. "They're twisting it."
"I didn't know. I thought…" He trailed off, fear in his eyes.
Akari's voice was quiet. "Tell me everything. Now."