Moonlight filtered gently through the shingled rooftops of Konoha, bathing the Hidden Leaf Village in silver as a cool breeze stirred the leaves that had given it its name. But beneath the quiet hum of night, something older stirred—a whisper of distrust, the shadow of betrayal.
In the forest clearing just outside the village, masked figures stood in complete silence. No more than eight of them, but the air was tight with pressure. A black scroll hung from a tree branch behind them, fluttering slightly as it caught the wind. A summoning seal was burned into the dirt, still smoldering faintly.
Jiraiya stood at the center, arms crossed. His white mane rustled slightly, but his gaze was steel-sharp.
"You're sure?" he asked, his tone low but filled with restrained urgency.
The toad on his shoulder gave a solemn croak. "We've tried every method, Jiraiya. Every plane, every contract. There's... nothing. We can't reach him. We don't even know where he is."
The ANBU squad exchanged subtle glances beneath their masks. That wasn't something you heard every day—not from the summons of Mount Myōboku.
Jiraiya let out a slow breath. "Then we treat this as a worst-case scenario. Someone has taken Naruto... or worse."
He turned to the ANBU, his voice now the command of a war-hardened veteran.
"You are the most trusted agents the Hokage and I have. This operation doesn't leave this clearing. From this moment forward, you're shadows within shadows. Do not reveal yourselves to anyone but me or the Sandaime. Not even your commanding officers."
There were no salutes. No shouts of affirmation. Only nods—silent and swift.
Jiraiya gave one last look toward the village before they vanished in a coordinated flicker. "Hang in there, kid," he muttered. "We're coming."
In the Hokage Tower, the flames of a half-melted candle flickered lazily as two men stood over a desk littered with maps and mission files.
"I'm recommending a B-rank assignment," Kakashi said calmly, his single visible eye focused on Hiruzen. "For Sasuke and Sakura."
Hiruzen didn't look up immediately. "I would have expected you to recommend C-rank."
"I want to see how they handle themselves under real pressure. I'll be with them."
Hiruzen folded his hands. "Hmm. And if something goes wrong?"
"Then I'll handle it."
The old man considered him for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But Yamato goes with you. No exceptions."
Kakashi smiled slightly. "I expected that."
Then he vanished in a puff of smoke, revealing a spent shadow clone. Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, hands resting thoughtfully on his cane. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence.
Then: "You may go," he said aloud.
All at once, the shadows in the corners of the room shifted, and the real ANBU—hidden since the moment Kakashi entered—silently dispersed, vanishing without a sound.
When the room was empty, Hiruzen stood. The weight on his shoulders seemed heavier than it had earlier. He made a few precise hand signs, and pale-blue kanji flared to life across the walls and floor. A suppression seal. Then, in the far corner of the room, he placed his hand on the wall.
He moved it slowly—left, then down—until his fingers brushed something ever-so-slightly off. A single brick, rougher than the others.
Click.
With a low rumble, the wall shifted, revealing a stone passage barely large enough for a grown man. He stepped inside, and the entrance resealed behind him. The corridor was narrow, silent... and old.
This place wasn't in any blueprint of the Hokage Tower.
It had been built by Hashirama himself. After Madara had whispered a terrible possibility into his ear—that one day, the enemy wouldn't come from outside the walls... but from within them.
A clone of Hiruzen stood waiting inside the hidden room, leaning against the wall, arms folded. Upon seeing the original, it smiled.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to get here."
With a puff, it vanished, memories flowing into the original like a second heartbeat. The room was dim but alive with energy. The far wall was completely taken up by a massive board. Red strings connected notes, photos, transaction records, clan files, and personal profiles. At the center was a large photo of the village council.
Hiruzen walked toward it slowly, his eyes scanning the countless scribbles and annotations.
There were pictures of each council member, lists of their businesses, investments, meeting records, even their hobbies. Reports from their jōnin guards—each handpicked and sworn to secrecy—detailing everything from suspicious conversations to minor offhand comments.
Some notes were underlined in red.
Some were circled in black.
And some were tagged with chilling reminders:
"Referred to Naruto as 'the demon' on three occasions. Directly contradicted council secrecy protocol."
"Spoke of the Fourth with bitterness. Suspected political resentment."
"Attempted to block ANBU protection over orphanage budget."
Yet not one was arrested. Not yet.
Because Hiruzen knew: if the council felt safe, they would slip.
He lowered his head, his hand curling slowly into a fist. "Naruto... all of this... was because I failed you." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
He remembered a younger self, full of resolve and principle. He remembered a friend and student who turned to darkness. And he remembered a boy with a grin like the sun, alone on a swing.
"I've grown soft," he muttered. "Too slow. Too hesitant."
But no more.
He raised his head, eyes burning with fire again. "Your status as a jinchuuriki was a secret known only to the council. If the villagers know... if the shinobi know..."
His eyes settled on a photo of one of the more outspoken elders. "...then there's a traitor in our ranks."
And that thought—more than anything—terrified him.
Because it meant that Konoha's greatest threat... may already be inside its walls.
Meanwhile, in a remote, open clearing on the edge of the training grounds, where Kakashi Hatake stood with his arms folded, a familiar book tucked under one arm yet untouched. Across from him, Sasuke and Sakura panted heavily, bruised and bleeding, engaged in an intense spar—not with each other, but with Kakashi's ninken, who circled them in a flurry of coordinated motion. Each time the duo lunged, they were outmatched, their strikes evaded or countered. The ninken weren't out to seriously injure, but they weren't holding back either.
Beside Kakashi stood a woman with short, dark blue hair and sharp amber eyes. Her left sleeve hung empty—her missing arm a lingering souvenir of an ANBU mission gone wrong. A faded scar ran down from her brow to where an eye once was, now covered by a stylized black patch. Her name was Reika, though Kakashi and the few close to her simply called her Rei.
As she watched Sasuke and Sakura stumble forward with ragged breath, her expression tightened. "You're pushing them hard," she muttered, her tone flat but the concern unmistakable. "Are you trying to turn them into child soldiers?"
Kakashi didn't look at her. "They already are," he said calmly. "Anyone who wears a hitai-ate becomes a soldier. The only thing that changes is how much experience they get before they have to act like one."
A beat passed. Then, with a groan, Sasuke dropped to his knees, followed quickly by Sakura, who collapsed onto the grass. Their bodies were littered with cuts and bruises, but they had lasted longer than Kakashi expected.
Without waiting for an order, Rei moved with silent urgency. Her hand, glowing with the soft green hue of medical chakra, hovered over each of them in turn. The cuts began to close, the bruises faded. "They'll wake up in an hour or two," she said quietly, "and they'll be sore as hell."
Kakashi pulled out a small pouch and began sorting through chakra pills and food supplements. Rei watched him in silence for a moment before speaking again, softer now. "Are you really okay?"
"I'm fine," he answered automatically, but he didn't meet her eyes.
Rei frowned. "You're lying. Again." She leaned back against a nearby boulder and crossed her legs. "Training your students won't bring back Obito. Or Rin. Or Minato. Or his son."
Kakashi flinched. His fingers tightened on the pill pouch before he slowly turned to look at her.
"I haven't forgotten," she said gently. "You're not the only one who knew."
He let out a breath, shoulders slumping. "I forgot that others knew. You... Jiraiya... the Hokage."
Rei nodded. "And a few others. But it doesn't matter, does it? You've gotten so paranoid since Naruto disappeared, you forgot how to trust. Even us."
Kakashi sank down onto a nearby rock, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's too late for me, Rei," he murmured. "I lost Obito because I was cold and cruel. I followed the mission and let my teammate die. I failed Rin... and I failed Minato. And now—Naruto—"
"You're not your father, Kakashi," Rei said quietly. "Don't fall into the same pit."
He looked up, startled.
Rei's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "Your father... he fell apart trying to be perfect. When the village didn't forgive him, he turned that shame inward until it killed him. If you try to carry all this alone, you'll break the same way."
Kakashi was silent.
"You're the last of your team. But that doesn't mean you have to be alone. Don't turn your students into soldiers just to punish yourself."
"...I won't change," he finally said, his voice hollow. "Nothing ever does."
Rei stood and leapt onto a tree branch above him. The wind tugged gently at the empty sleeve where her arm used to be.
She looked down at him. "Then at least try to be better. That's what your father would have wanted. Not stronger. Better."
And with that, she vanished into the trees, leaving Kakashi with nothing but his thoughts... and the heavy weight of the past pressing down on him like fog.
Better, not stronger, huh?
Must be nice, having so much freedom. Maybe he should retire soon. After finding Naruto, that is. That orange-loving SOB was too stubborn to die so easily. It was a pity that Minato's mind was only seen in Naruto when he did his pranks. He was one of the few nin who the orphan never victimised. He read the reports of some of the chuunin and low-level jounin who would chase Naruto after one of his, quote, ' Demonic constructs' and he was rather impressed at some them. ( Seriously, he somehow managed to swap the entire academy's supply with cardboard replicas that were surprisingly convincing to the touch and weight, at least to the chuunin instructers. Some of them were snatched by a few of the ANBU, who were genuinely impressed and were also reporting to the hokage directly about another one of Naruto's antics.
ANBU...
That brought back some memories. Especially during his younger years. He had done the most of his team missions with Tenzo, Reika and Itachi. Maybe two of them or sometimes all three. Those three were the closest ones he had to friends, especially after the kyuubi visited the village that night, bringing with it death and destruction. Now things were not what they were. Reika lost her arm and eye in a solo mission gone wrong. If he was late by a second as her backup, she would've died. Itachi went rogue and slaughtered his whole clan, but something in him made him consider the whole story as empty bull. Itachi was too noble. He hadn't talked to Tenzo in years.
"Yeah," he muttered, " Nothing lasts forever."
That sentence made him question himself more than once, but one of those questions bothered him the most.
How long would his team 7 last?