Two of Konoha's ANBU divisions had been operating in the Land of Waves for two months now. Their supplies were completely drained.
Without soldier pills, it became difficult to find food—and even riskier, as scavenging could expose their position.
Without ninja tools, many ANBU had to carefully sweep the battlefield, making them vulnerable to traps left in enemy equipment pouches.
The Uzumaki shinobi, on the other hand, had no such concerns. Uzushiogakure still protected the nobility of the Land of Whirlpools, who provided them with resources.
To pressure the Uzumaki more effectively, the ANBU needed to cut off these supplies. They had to make the nobles realize—supporting Uzumaki now was dangerous. Fatal.
The noble town chief targeted by Yako's mission was the most vocal supporter of Uzushiogakure in the region.
Yako didn't tell Matsudori where they were going, or what they were doing.
ANBU operatives only needed to follow orders. Thinking wasn't part of the job.
Now that he was in command, Yako had also become an exploiter—cold to the lives of his subordinates.
The two moved toward the target town. Speed wasn't their priority—caution was. Staying alive mattered more than finishing quickly.
"Matsudori, how old are you?"
"Captain Fox, I'm twelve this year."
Fresh out of the academy. Another Chūnin promoted under the lowered exam standards.
Yako didn't know what else to say, so he asked, "What's your dream?"
"My dream?" Matsudori replied,
"My dream is to be like Lord White Fang—accumulate missions in ANBU, and become the strongest shinobi!"
White Fang of the Leaf—a legend of the ANBU. Grew stronger through constant combat, honed his kenjutsu until he reached Kage-level.
There were three ways for Konoha shinobi to learn jutsu:
First, inheritance.
High-tier jutsu and secret techniques spread like diseases—passed only by blood, from parent to child, through birth, blood, or bodily fluids.
White Fang's kenjutsu was passed down this way.
Second, trust.
If you earned the trust of a mentor or captain, they might teach you a jutsu. But finding such a match—rare and difficult.
Third, ANBU.
Do enough for the village and they might reward you.
This required luck—the luck to stay alive.
But it was the most "fair" path, and the backbone of ANBU loyalty.
"Good luck, Matsudori. You'll become a shinobi like Lord White Fang someday."
Outside the town, Yako used binoculars to observe from a distance.
The town housed about a thousand families, enclosed by wooden walls. Guard towers lined the wall every few dozen meters—inside were samurai, trained and paid by the noble.
Ordinary samurai trained physically every day. Armed with swords, even a Genin needed several strikes to take one down.
The more elite samurai could refine chakra, boosting their taijutsu—comparable to village Genin.
The best were trained only by the Land of Iron.
But they were still cheap. Disposable.
Yako and Matsudori found a blind spot in the guards' vision and slipped past the patrols, climbing over the town wall.
The town had an outer district and an inner one.
The inner district housed the noble and his offices.
Bustling nights were luxuries for places like the capital. Small towns like this kept a strict curfew for security.
The streets were deserted. Everyone hid indoors.
Civilians here could be killed by rogue ninja or shinobi from the Hidden Villages. They all clung to their local lords, hoping the nobles and their hired ninja would bring peace.
Yako and Matsudori made it near the inner district undetected.
"Careful," Yako warned.
A patrol of samurai appeared from the side. Yako slipped into an alley first.
Matsudori followed quickly.
Trash bins lined the alley. They each ducked behind one.
Once the patrol passed, Yako whispered,
"Matsudori, be extra careful now. Look for weak points in the defenses—we're going over the inner wall."
Like the outer district, the inner area had towers and samurai guards.
Once over the wall, they dropped low and crawled along the base of a building, hugging the walls as they moved.
Ten minutes passed before they reached the brightest-lit area in the compound.
Up ahead was the town chief's study.
Two silhouettes moved behind the window. From their shadows, it was impossible to tell who was the chief.
Suddenly, the window burst open. Someone leapt out.
An Uzumaki shinobi!
The noble stood by the window, stunned when the shinobi stopped speaking mid-sentence—then dove out the window toward the corner of another building.
Two more Uzumaki appeared, and samurai rushed in from nearby after getting word.
The rush of kunai slicing through air, the clattering of samurai armor—it all made Matsudori tense with fear.
Seeing Captain Fox's retreat signal, he bolted outward.
He hadn't expected an entire Uzumaki squad to be here.
Kunai thunked into wooden walls around him.
One caught his shoulder.
Another stabbed his foot.
Just as he was about to call for help—Captain Fox was hit by a kunai and vanished in a puff of smoke.
What?
A Shadow Clone?
When?
Matsudori suddenly remembered—when they infiltrated the inner district, the captain had disappeared for a split second. Then later hid behind a different trash bin.
A bitter laugh escaped him. In the academy, when they learned the Substitution Jutsu, the instructor emphasized one thing:
Find or create a moment when the enemy loses sight of you. That's the key.
Shadow Clone—an advanced form of substitution.
All of Captain Fox's dirty tricks… he used them on him.
His life, just like a clone, was a decoy for the enemy.
Matsudori looked toward the noble.
He'd suspected the mission might be to assassinate the town chief.
Sure enough, behind the window—Captain Fox appeared from the shadows, raising a kunai from behind the noble.
He had infiltrated flawlessly.
All eyes—Uzumaki and samurai alike—were focused on Matsudori. The captain had timed his move perfectly.
Matsudori and the noble would die in the same second.
When he was first recruited into ANBU, Matsudori thought he had special talents. That the higher-ups had seen something in him. That greatness was just ahead.
Months in ANBU revealed the truth—he was just a tool.
This morning, the captain had wished him luck, said he might become the next White Fang.
Now, to complete the mission, the same captain had sacrificed him—without hesitation.
So this was ANBU.
An Uzumaki shinobi approached Matsudori's corpse and peeled back the mask with a kunai.
Beneath it was a young face—twisted in resentment. What was he resenting in those final seconds?
Yako had told him nothing. Just "infiltrate the inner district."
No one would know the truth. Even if Uzushio recovered the body, they'd find no evidence.
"Damn it! The chief is dead!"
The shout from a samurai made the Uzumaki ninja spin around in horror.
There, slumped at the window, was the noble—dead, a kunai buried in the back of his neck.
"Shit!"
The Uzumaki cursed. All the negotiations, the planned support—it had all just gone up in smoke.