Danzo.
It really was him.
Yako's expression hardened. He turned to Purple Cat.
"I'll handle this," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "From this moment on, you know nothing. Don't tell anyone—not even Commander Yellow Dog.
"Continue scanning their memories. I need the contact signal they were supposed to use with Fuguki Suikazan."
If Danzo had already obtained the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal, they'd never have gotten this far. But the Root operatives' minds were still open enough to extract information.
Purple Cat knelt again beside the corpses, pressing her hand to one of the skulls, her chakra shimmering faintly.
"They joined Root after the War of Uzushio began," she murmured. "Their intel is limited."
"That's fine," Yako said. "White Ram—hide the bodies. I'll bring them to Commander Yellow Dog later."
"Understood."
Yako removed his own mask and put on one of the Root operatives' instead.
"White Ram," he said, "wear the other one. Wait by the coast. Purple Cat—you hide farther back. Don't reveal yourself. I'll go out to the sea and complete the mission."
This was the most critical part of his plan.
Waves crashed against the black rocks, shattering into bursts of white foam.
Out on the water stood Fuguki Suikazan, his massive two‑meter frame rising and falling with the tide. His gaze slid toward the woman beside him.
That woman—she was no ordinary shinobi. Her medical and combat skills were both remarkable, and many in the Mist Village owed their lives to her.
He hadn't expected her to be from Konoha.
Just thinking about how many Mist wounded she'd treated made his skin crawl.
It was she who had brokered this meeting between Fuguki and the supposed Root contact, promising "mutual benefit."
'As expected of the The Wandering Miko,' he thought grimly. 'Her name in Kirigakure is surely false. I'll have to keep an eye on her.'
Two figures emerged from the palm‑shadowed grove along the coast.
One stayed at the edge, standing guard.
The other strode directly toward the sea.
Yako stepped onto the water, facing Fuguki across the moonlit waves.
He first looked to the girl beside Fuguki—a slender young woman with black hair and glasses.
From the memories he'd extracted, he already knew who she was—Yakushi Nonō.
They exchanged coded signals; both sides were genuine.
Yako tossed a scroll across the water.
"Let's keep this brief," he said. "Fuguki Suikazan—this is the operation plan. Five Konoha units will use the Twin Blades: Hiramekarei as bait to ambush your sword retrieval squad."
Of course, Yako had altered the contents.
Fuguki caught the scroll but didn't open it yet. His small eyes narrowed.
"I know what I'm getting out of this. But what do you gain? I can't imagine Konoha's Root being so… charitable."
"Your success is our reward," Yako replied smoothly. "All you need to know is this—the ambush is being led by an ANBU Squad Commander. He's been sowing tension between Advisor Danzo and the Third Hokage.
"He's obsessed with becoming Deputy Commander. His ambition is splitting ANBU from within.
"For Konoha's sake, Advisor Danzo has no choice but to act."
He didn't linger. One glance toward Nonō was enough before he vanished in a flicker of Body Flicker Technique.
Fuguki stared at the spot where he'd been standing, then turned to Nonō with a sneer.
"So even Konoha is tearing itself apart from the inside, eh? One ANBU Commander selling out his own squad… I thought only the Mist practiced the Blood Mist Purge."
Nonō adjusted her glasses calmly.
"Hidden malice from within a village causes greater harm than any enemy.
"If it were an ordinary Konoha shinobi, ANBU would have eliminated him directly.
But since it's ANBU itself… other villages must be involved.
Everything we do is for Konoha."
Fuguki chuckled darkly.
"Right. Everything for Konoha. Then I suppose I'm helping you, too."
He unrolled the scroll. The document detailed every element of the supposed operation—locations, timing, troop distribution. Perfectly clear.
He smiled, folded it up, and vanished into the mist.
Nonō turned in the opposite direction and began walking along the sand.
Ten minutes later, she halted.
The Root operative she'd met earlier—still masked—was standing ahead, waiting for her.
Yako faced her, his voice deep.
"Advisor Danzo requires intel on your Sword Retrieval Unit. Speak."
If he could extract accurate details about the Mist's operation, he'd control the flow of information—and the battle itself.
In the previous timeline, he'd been trapped in fog, blind to half of what had happened.
Nonō's expression didn't change.
"I don't know if Fuguki will alter our plans after receiving that scroll. But before tonight, the mission involved seven battalions—Hōzuki Muratsuki, Kurisame Tsumaru, Fuguki Suikazan, and four other jōnin. Seven in total."
"Seven squads. Got it."
Without another word, Yako disappeared in a flash, unwilling to stay near Nonō longer than necessary. The less contact, the less risk.
Far out at sea, Fuguki returned to a large vessel anchored beyond the surf.
In the main cabin, six jōnin were waiting. With him, they made seven.
At the center sat Hōzuki Muratsuki, his massive Blade resting against his shoulder.
"Fuguki," he said, "you're the head of the intelligence division. Did you bring us something useful?"
Fukuki nodded.
"My contact in Konoha delivered new intel. Five ANBU squads plan to ambush us on a hillside the night after tomorrow."
Muratsuki's gaze sharpened.
"A contact? You have a collaborator inside Konoha? What rank are they to know that kind of detail? This level of information must come straight from the Deputy Commander!"
Fuguki's face remained unreadable.
"Don't concern yourself with my sources."
"The report also says this: tomorrow morning, some of our own shinobi will begin dying—victims of the Water Gun Jutsu from your clan's secret technique.
"Their bodies will form a trail leading directly to the ambush site.
"If we find corpses killed by Water Gun Jutsu tomorrow, the intel is confirmed.
"My proposal: verify it tomorrow, then tomorrow night, we set our own trap near the same hill. When Konoha's five squads march in the following evening… we'll crush them."
The room fell silent for a moment—then several eyes gleamed.
A counter‑ambush. The perfect reversal.
But Hōzuki Muratsuki frowned.
"Fuguki, explain something first. You're just a standard jōnin. How did you even get this information? You were appointed head of Intelligence by Gensui, but this is far beyond your clearance. Are you lying to us?"
Fuguki's massive frame loomed larger, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. He twisted his thick neck and glared down at Muratsuki. His gaze flicked briefly to the Samehada's hilt.
"Hōzuki Muratsuki," he said coldly. "Aside from the blade left by the Second Mizukage, what do you even have?
"You don't understand intelligence work, so shut up.
"I don't owe you an explanation. My source must stay protected. If I reveal it, every spy in that network dies. You idiot."
The tension was instant and sharp.
The hilt of Samehada flexed as if alive—itching for blood.
Before it could go further, Kurisame Tsumaru barked,
"Enough! Both of you!
"Konoha extracted the Water Gun Jutsu from Hōzuki Lingetsu before he died. We'll confirm the intel tomorrow—see if anyone was killed by that technique.
"If the corpses match, the intel's real. If not, we deal with Fuguki then.
"There's no point fighting among ourselves now.
Reclaiming the Twin Blades: Hiramekarei comes first!
"Hōzuki Muratsuki, hasn't your clan shamed itself enough already?"
Muratsuki's jaw tightened. He wanted to explode, but for the sake of the mission, he swallowed his fury.
'Tomorrow,' he thought darkly. 'If this intel turns out false, Fuguki won't live to see another dawn.'