Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 33: ANBU

The walk from the barbecue restaurant to the Hokage building felt like a funeral march. Each step carried Rei deeper into a web of obligations and compromises that would define the rest of his shortened life. The evening air was thick with the promise of rain, and the shadows seemed longer than they should have been, as if the village itself was mourning what he was about to become.

Sarutobi Hiruzen listened to Rei's carefully rehearsed explanation with the practiced attention of a man who had heard a thousand similar confessions. But when Rei mentioned Danzo's recruitment attempt, the Third's weathered face darkened like storm clouds gathering over the mountains.

"That bastard," Hiruzen muttered, his pipe clenched between teeth that had ground through decades of political betrayals. The curse word sounded strange coming from the grandfatherly Hokage, but it carried the weight of friendship twisted into something ugly by ambition. "I treat him like a brother, and he goes behind my back to steal my people."

The paperwork that followed was a ritual of signing away pieces of his soul. Each form bound him tighter to the shadows, each signature a nail in the coffin of whatever normal life he might have imagined. The ANBU registration process was thorough and invasive—background checks that went back generations, psychological evaluations that probed for weakness, and finally the curse seal that would ensure his silence even in death.

When Hiruzen finished arranging the details, his voice carried the satisfaction of a chess player who had just secured checkmate. "Danzo thinks he can manipulate everyone around him," he said, more to himself than to Rei. "Some of his games are starting to go too far."

That night, Rei lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying every moment of his induction into ANBU. The other operatives had stared at him through their masks with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. A child barely past his twelfth birthday, wearing the fan of the most distrusted clan in the village—he might as well have been a walking contradiction.

The whispers had followed him through the ANBU headquarters like smoke. First Uchiha in ANBU history. What was the Third thinking? Can we really trust someone with those eyes? Each comment was a reminder that his bloodline was both his greatest asset and his most dangerous liability.

The memory examination had been particularly brutal. Yamanaka specialists rifling through his thoughts like pages in a book, their mental fingers leaving traces of violation that would linger for days. The curse seal that followed felt like molten metal burning into his tongue, a constant reminder that even his voice no longer belonged to him.

The next morning brought the political earthquake that Rei had been expecting. The sound of raised voices carried through the Hokage building's thick walls, three of Konoha's most powerful figures tearing into their leader with the fury of betrayed allies.

"I don't agree!" Utatane Koharu's voice cracked like a whip, her usual composure shattered by what she perceived as a fundamental threat to village security. "He's Uchiha! Two-tomoe Sharingan at his age—what if he becomes another Madara?"

Mitokado Homura's agreement came like the tolling of a funeral bell. "What are you thinking, Hiruzen? Have you completely lost your mind?"

But it was Danzo's contribution that cut deepest, his words wrapped in the false concern of a friend who only wanted what was best. "The Second Hokage created the Police Force specifically to keep the Uchiha away from sensitive positions. You're undoing decades of careful policy. If something goes wrong, the village will pay the price in blood."

Sarutobi Hiruzen's face had turned the color of old charcoal, his pipe forgotten in his clenched fist. The hypocrisy was staggering—Danzo had been ready to recruit Rei for Root just yesterday, but now that the boy had slipped through his fingers, suddenly he was too dangerous for any special unit.

"Strange," Hiruzen said, his voice deceptively calm, "yesterday you were eager to have Uchiha Rei join Root. What changed your mind so dramatically?"

The silence that followed was delicious. Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura turned on Danzo with the fury of allies who had been kept in the dark, their whispered accusations filling the room like poison gas.

Danzo's recovery was masterful, his voice never wavering from its tone of righteous concern. "Root is a training ground, not a position of critical trust. ANBU protects you directly, Hiruzen. If something happens to you, the entire ninja world suffers."

The logic was flawless and completely transparent. Danzo could accept Rei in Root because Root was his domain, where young shinobi could be broken down and rebuilt in his image. But ANBU answered to the Hokage, and that made them untouchable.

"The matter is settled," Hiruzen declared, his voice carrying the finality of a judge pronouncing sentence. "Uchiha Rei has the Will of Fire burning in his heart. All we need to do is guide that flame properly."

The shocked silence that followed was broken only by Koharu's strangled gasp. "You already inducted him? Without consulting us?"

The betrayal in her voice was almost pitiful. These three had ruled from the shadows for decades, their collective wisdom shaping village policy in ways the common people would never know. But now their leader had acted without them, and the foundation of their power was cracking.

Danzo said nothing, but Rei could imagine the expression beneath those bandages. To be outmaneuvered by a thirteen-year-old boy—the humiliation must have been exquisite. And men like Danzo remembered humiliation the way other people remembered birthdays.

I must not let him grow up, Danzo was undoubtedly thinking. The Uchiha cannot produce another Madara. Everything is for the village.

The morning brought a different kind of ritual as Rei reported to ANBU headquarters for his first assignment. The building was a maze of corridors that seemed to swallow sound, filled with masked figures who moved like ghosts through lives they had willingly abandoned.

His team captain introduced himself only as Senzō, his mask bearing the stylized features of a hawk. The other two members—Sparrow and Parrot—acknowledged Rei with professional nods that revealed nothing of their thoughts. When asked for his ANBU codename, Rei chose "Chi" without hesitation. Blood. It seemed appropriate.

Their mission briefed like something from a spy novel. Two Konoha shinobi, Noyama and Suikao, had attracted ANBU attention through their suspicious behavior. Weekly meetings, failed missions with convenient explanations, team members who died at opportune moments—the pattern was clear to those trained to see it.

"Intelligence suggests they may be selling village secrets," Senzō explained, his voice muffled by the hawk mask. "Our job is to confirm and capture, preferably alive."

The surveillance post they assigned him offered a perfect view of Suikao's modest home, where the two suspects met for their weekly coordination session. For over an hour, Rei watched them toast each other with sake, their body language relaxed and familiar. To any casual observer, they looked like old friends sharing drinks and war stories.

But Rei's eyes were not casual observers.

When Noyama finally left and began his journey home, the team split according to plan. Rei and Senzō followed their primary target while Sparrow and Parrot maintained observation on Suikao. The route led them through increasingly isolated streets, past houses that grew shabbier and more neglected with each block.

Noyama's residence was a study in calculated poverty—just run-down enough to avoid attention, with walls that showed signs of deliberate maintenance disguised as decay. The rat holes in the earthen walls looked random until you realized they formed a pattern, each one positioned for optimal concealment and access.

The little brown mouse that emerged from one of those holes moved with too much purpose, its head turning with an intelligence that spoke of more than animal instinct. When Rei activated his Sharingan, the thin thread of chakra attached to the creature's skull confirmed his suspicions.

"Captain," he whispered, his voice barely audible even to enhanced hearing, "that rat is a summoning beast."

The chase that followed led them through back alleys and forgotten corners of the village, the mouse moving with the confidence of something that had made this journey many times before. When it finally stopped in a secluded grove, Rei struck without hesitation.

The genjutsu he wove around the creature's mind was particularly cruel—he gave it the nightmare of castration, of watching its beloved mate coupled with its most hated rival. The mouse's anguished squeaking filled the night air as its little mind shattered under the assault.

Senzō's examination of the creature was clinical and efficient. A single cut revealed the intelligence cache hidden in its belly—coded messages that would damn both Noyama and Suikao once the cryptographers finished their work.

"You take point," Senzō ordered, his mask turning toward Rei with something that might have been approval. "Use genjutsu to subdue if possible. I'll provide support."

The irony wasn't lost on Rei as they prepared to spring their trap. Noyama had been clever, using summoned mice to carry intelligence between safe houses and foreign contacts. The system had worked flawlessly for months, might have continued working for years. But he'd never counted on the Sharingan, on eyes that could see the chakra threads that bound summon to summoner.

(Yes, Sharingan can see chakra links, its just Byakugan is way superior)

As they moved through the shadows toward Noyama's house, Rei couldn't help but wonder how many other systems would crumble simply because he existed in a place where no Uchiha had ever been before. His very presence was changing the game, making the impossible suddenly routine.

It should have felt like victory. Instead, it felt like watching dominoes fall in a pattern he couldn't predict or control.

Welcome to ANBU, he thought grimly, where even success feels like a type of defeat.

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