"Uchiha Munetsuki. By order of the Hokage, you are to follow me to Anbu."
The voice came from the corridor outside the Hokage's office. A shinobi wearing a white animal mask stood waiting, posture rigid and unreadable.
The operative's codename was Elephant—one of the Third Hokage's most trusted personal guards, if rumors were true.
Munetsuki narrowed his eyes slightly, observing him with quiet focus. The man's emotional presence was dark and muted, tinged with something heavy. Grief, perhaps.
"Understood. Thank you for the escort," Munetsuki replied politely.
Emotion, however, had no place in Anbu. Elephant gave him a cold glance and turned without another word, clearly uninterested in conversation.
So much for courtesy.
Munetsuki followed, suppressing a sigh. He had expected this reception. The Uchiha name carried weight, and not the good kind. Years of policy and political pressure had slowly isolated the clan, leaving suspicion in its wake.
The Anbu headquarters felt different from the rest of Konoha. The air was heavy, subdued. Nearly everyone they passed carried the same quiet sorrow.
So it really is because of Sakumo, Munetsuki thought.
Hatake Sakumo—elite jōnin, former Anbu commander, known across nations as the White Fang of Konoha. His reputation eclipsed even the legendary Sannin. Enemy shinobi had standing orders to abandon missions if they encountered him.
He had been more than a powerful fighter. He was a symbol.
And now he was dead.
Officially, it was suicide. A man who had once chosen comrades over mission success, later condemned by the very people he saved. Isolated, broken by whispers and blame, he ended his own life.
Munetsuki found the story laughable.
A man who carved his legend with a single blade did not crumble from rumors alone. In the end, Sakumo had simply stood in someone's way. When his name began to outshine the Hokage's authority, the conclusion became inevitable.
Call it suicide if you want. The result was the same.
Anbu induction was brief. With the Hokage's authorization, all that was required was a codename and a formal record.
"Name: Uchiha Munetsuki. Male. Fifteen. Rank: Jōnin. Codename: Owl. Specialties: Medical ninjutsu… and psychological therapy?"
The Anbu clerk paused, looking up in disbelief.
Anbu was an assassination and covert operations unit. Medical skills were rare enough, but psychological therapy?
"Yes," Munetsuki said calmly. "Mental trauma functions much like physical injury. Left untreated, even small wounds can become permanent. I specialize in helping people repair that damage."
The clerk hesitated. "I… think I understand."
"Actually," Munetsuki added, sliding a card across the desk, "I've recently opened a private practice."
The card read: Munetsuki Psychological Clinic.
He smiled faintly. "A guided-dream therapy. Patients are able to confront unfulfilled wishes and unresolved regrets. If you're interested, I offer a colleague discount."
The clerk glanced at the price and nearly dropped the card.
Ten thousand ryō per session.
"That's… not necessary," he said quickly, pushing it back.
Munetsuki accepted it with mild disappointment.
Once the paperwork was complete, Elephant spoke again. "You're dismissed. You'll be contacted when needed."
"Understood." Munetsuki turned to leave, then added lightly, "If you ever require psychological support, feel free to reach out."
His footsteps faded down the dim corridor.
Elephant watched him go, eyes heavy. "Owl," he muttered. "An unsettling codename."
"You're unusually cautious," the clerk said. "Because he's an Uchiha?"
"Not only that," Elephant replied. "I don't know why… but standing near him made me uneasy."
The clerk chuckled. "He's just a talented kid."
"Let's hope so," Elephant said quietly. "Today is the White Fang's funeral, isn't it?"
"Yes." The clerk's voice lowered. "I still can't believe it."
Elephant's tone hardened. "That's enough. Remember where we are."
The clerk fell silent.
Questions were dangerous. And Anbu did not ask them.
That night, Munetsuki returned to the Uchiha compound. After washing away the day's fatigue, he lit a simple brass candle in the corner of his room.
"I hope tonight brings a pleasant dream," he murmured.
Sleep took him quickly.
Dark mist spread through his consciousness. Time stretched, warped, lost meaning. Whispers drifted through the void—soft, fragmented, sometimes lucid, sometimes maddened.
His awareness sank deeper.
And deeper.
When it stabilized, he found himself standing inside a vast cathedral.
Every pillar, every arch, was constructed from bones—intertwined remains of countless species, stacked chaotically yet supporting the structure with impossible stability. The ceiling was crowded with skulls, hollow eyes gazing down into the hall.
At the center stood a massive cross formed of bone. Countless skeletal hands twisted around it, not in agony, but in reverence. Despite the grotesque imagery, the place felt eerily sacred.
Translucent faces pressed against the doors and stained-glass windows, silently screaming as they strained to enter.
Another figure appeared within the cathedral.
The first stood beneath the cross like a priest awaiting a confession. He smiled, as though he had known this moment would come.
"Now that you've seen your future," he said gently, "will you continue down this path?"
The second figure remained silent for a long time. "Is the future truly as you described?"
"You're free to doubt it," the first replied calmly. His voice carried warmth—and absolute certainty.
After a long pause, the second sighed. "Then I accept. I hope our efforts can change that future."
"The future I proclaim will come to pass," the first said softly.
Behind the haze, Uchiha Munetsuki smiled.
"Welcome to the Twilight Hermit Order," he said. "White Fang of Konoha."