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Chapter 66: The Fox in the Camp
The intelligence delivered with the scout's last breath hung in the command tent like a poisoned fog. Even Hatake Sakumo, a man tempered by countless battles, felt a jolt of cold apprehension.
Two full squads of Iwa's elite assassination units, operating unseen behind Konoha's lines. Their targets could be logistical hubs, command personnel, or⊠high-value combatants operating independently. They were daggers aimed at the heart of Konoha's presence in Rain Country. While the main bases of each village were relatively secure fortresses, the vast, rain-swept territory between them was a hunting ground. For such units to slip through the net entirely was a catastrophic intelligence failure. An unchecked blade like that could gut their war effort.
Losing a figure like Jiraiya, Tsunade, or Orochimaru wouldn't just be a tactical blow; it would be a massive strategic and morale defeat. They were symbols of Konoha's next generation of power, the Hokage's own students.
Sakumo's mind was already moving, summoning sensory ninja and intelligence officers to cross-reference patrol logs and last known positions. A rescue operation was taking shape in his headâa fast, hard strike to extract his people and crush the infiltrators.
But before he could give the order, the tent flap was thrust aside without ceremony. The man who entered moved with a stiff, deliberate authority that brooked no challenge. It was Danzo Shimura, advisor to the Hokage and the shadowy commander of Root. He rarely appeared openly on the front lines, preferring to operate in the murk of espionage and provocation. His presence here, now, was an ill omen.
"Sakumo," Danzo said, his voice gravelly and final. "You cannot move from this base."
Sakumo's gaze, sharp as the sword at his back, met Danzo's single visible eye. "If I do not go, there is no one else capable of reaching and extracting Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru in time. They are the Hokage's students. Their loss is unacceptable."
Danzo's frown deepened the lines on his face. "We are in a stage of stalemate and probe. The supreme commanders of each side have not yet taken the field. If you, the White Fang, Konoha's acknowledged war leader, sallies forth prematurely, what message does that send? It suggests desperation. It reveals a lack of depth in our strength."
A flicker of something dangerousâthe faint, cutting aura of the White Fang itselfâleaked from Sakumo's controlled posture. "I will not go as 'Hatake Sakumo, Commander.' I will go as another blade in the night. I will eliminate the threat with decisive force, and in doing so, I will reinforce Konoha's reputation for ruthless efficiency. No one will know the commander left his post. My mind is set, Danzo. Do not waste your breath."
The two men locked eyes, a silent battle of wills between Konoha's glorious hero and its hidden manipulator. Danzo's eye narrowed, displeasure radiating from him. In terms of seniority, he was Sarutobi Hiruzen's peer. Sakumo was a junior, a successor. Yet, power and battlefield acclaim had a hierarchy of their own. Reluctantly, with a silent curse, Danzo gave a stiff, shallow nod.
"Do not be gone long," was all he said, turning away, the dismissal clear.
Insolent pup, Danzo seethed internally, his hand tightening on his cane. To dismiss my counsel so readilyâŠ
Unburdened by Danzo's machinations, Sakumo moved. He selected a small team of specialistsâHyuga clansmen for their all-seeing eyes, Inuzuka trackers and their partners for their unmatched noses. They left the base like ghosts, melting into the relentless rain.
The Land of Rain was a tracker's nightmare. The perpetual downpour was nature's great eraser, washing away scents, footprints, and chakra residue. They followed the faintest trails, the zones where the metallic tang of blood stubbornly clung to the sodden earth despite the rain's best efforts.
After an hour of tense, silent travel, the Hyuga scout raised a fist. Everyone froze.
"Byakugan shows⊠carnage. One hundred meters ahead, in a shallow valley."
Sakumo led the approach. The scene that unfolded was not a battlefield; it was an abattoir.
Iwa-nin corpses lay strewn in the mud, their positions telling a story of sudden, overwhelming violence. Limbs were severed, torsos cleaved, heads separated. The rain diluted the blood, but could not wash away the sheer volume of it. Sakumo's boot nudged a spherical objectâa head, its features frozen in a rictus of pure terror, eyes wide and white.
"Captain," the Hyuga ninja reported, his voice tight. "The wounds⊠all are clean, deep cuts. A blade of exceptional sharpness, wielded with immense force."
"A master swordsman," Sakumo murmured, his analytical mind engaging despite the grisly scene. The efficiency was chilling. This wasn't a clash of squads; this was a predator dismantling prey.
An ANBU forensic specialist knelt by a body, examining the way a kunai pouch had been searched. "Sir, the post-mortem search pattern⊠it's Konoha ANBU protocol. The markings left to signal 'searched and cleared' are ours." He looked up, confusion in his eyes. "But aside from you, Captain, I cannot think of a single operative who could have done⊠this. Alone. Against two jonin and a full chunin squad."
Sakumo's stern expression didn't change, but a weight lifted slightly from his shoulders. This was the good news hidden in the horror. One of the two infiltrating Iwa squads had been erased. By whom? The question was immense, but the immediate threat was halved.
"Mark the location for cleanup detail," Sakumo ordered, his voice cutting through the rain. "We continue the search pattern for Tsunade's team. If we find no trace in the next sector, we return to base. One dagger is blunted. We must assume the other is still hunting."
Konoha Forward Base, Main Gate.
"Finally back to base," Moonlight Swiftfire breathed, the words heavy with exhaustion and relief.
The four members of Team Nine stood before the main gate, the rain plastering their filthy uniforms to their skin. They presented their ANBU identification tiles to the gate sentries.
The guard, a chunin with a pinched, weary face, checked them against his roster. "Lord Hatake is not in the camp. Lord Danzo is acting commander in his absence. His standing order: all ninja returning from external operations must report directly to him for debriefing. Security precaution. Enemy infiltration risks."
Swiftfire nodded. "Understood."
As they trudged through the muddy paths of the camp towards the command sector, Ragnar walked silently in formation, his mind racing behind the Rakshasa mask. This is new. This wasn't procedure a month ago. A cold trickle of suspicion, sharper than the rain, traced down his spine. Danzo was in charge. Danzo had new rules. The combination set off every alarm he had.
Command Tent.
A Root operative knelt before Danzo. "Lord Danzo, an ANBU squad has returned. Team Nine, reconnaissance and infiltration."
Danzo, seated at Sakumo's field desk, gave a dismissive wave. "Send them in. I will process their return." With Sakumo and most of the active ANBU captains gone, administrative duties fell to him. A tedious necessity.
The four ANBU entered, dripping on the tent floor. Moonlight Swiftfire saluted. "Lord Danzo. Team Nine, returning from extended reconnaissance in Sector Seven."
Danzo's single eye swept over them, initially bored. Then it paused. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. A lifetime in the shadows had honed his senses, and the scent that clung to them was unmistakableânot just the wet earth and iron of Rain Country, but the thick, cloying smell of fresh blood. Lots of it.
His gaze lingered on the one with the distinctive, demon-faced Rakshasa mask. A flicker of memoryâa report from Konoha, about a prodigy placed in ANBU, a boy with strange powers who had drawn his ire and his desire. The mask matched the description.
"Your return is noted," Danzo said, his voice deceptively calm. "But your state speaks of more than reconnaissance. You bear the stench of recent combat. Explain."
The sudden, direct question in Danzo's imposing presence caused a fissure in Swiftfire's composure. The pressure, the exhaustion, the memory of the slaughter they'd witnessedâit broke his discipline. He answered truthfully, the words tumbling out.
"L-Lord Danzo, we⊠we were ambushed. By an elite Iwa-nin assassination squad on our return route."
Ragnar's muscles tensed beneath his uniform. Idiot! he screamed inwardly. You never volunteer information to a spider like him!
Danzo's eye gleamed with sudden, sharp interest. The bored administrator was gone, replaced by the predator. He leaned forward slightly.
"An Iwa assassination squad," he repeated slowly. "And you⊠survived to report it?"
The unspoken question hung in the air, heavy and dangerous:Â How?
(End of Chapter)
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