The captain still knelt, voice sharp and respectful. “Commander. I’ve brought Okabe, as ordered.”

From the far end of the dark chamber, the figure sitting in shadow spoke, calm but heavy.”…So this is him. Step forward.”

Okabe bowed lower, pressing his knees into the floor.

“Commander. Okabe Tatsuya reporting as instructed.”

The masked figure’s tone carried no warmth.

“You understand what it means to stand here?”

“Yes, Commander,” Okabe replied quickly. “It means I am trusted enough to report directly to you.”

A faint hum, almost approval.

“Good. Then show that trust was not misplaced. Speak.”

Okabe drew a breath, keeping his head low.

“The mission against the foreign cell was carried out. The depot is destroyed. Their intelligence cache is gone.”

However, the Commander’s voice cut through again, sharper than a blade.

“Spare me of it, Okabe. I already know that. What I want to hear about is the Senju boy.”

Okabe’s head stayed bowed. “He survived, and he destroyed the cache himself.”

Okabe actually hadn’t been told outright that the boy would be finally directly targeted by someone specifically during this mission.

His Anbu Captain had only ordered him to watch the Senju more closely than ever, warning that the smallest detail missed would bring punishment.

From that alone, Okabe pieced together his own conclusion that something was bound to happen on this mission.

So he quickly adapted to this question just now.

That same Anbu Captain standing here was also the one who had separate contact with Renjiro and Kanae, pulling them into the game as well. 

He also happened to be the second most important figure in the Anbu, just beneath the Commander himself.

The only reason Okabe knew more about this particular Captain, even about his fighting style and techniques, was because the man, or better said, probably a teen back then, had once been his direct superior.

They had worked side by side for years, carrying out many missions together back when the Captain was still active in the field.

At that time, he had been a teenage prodigy within the Anbu, already far beyond his peers in skill and discipline.

Okabe had watched him rise in fighting power with startling speed, climbing the hierarchy until he secured his current position as the Commander’s closest shield.

Now permanently stationed within the village, he no longer led missions outside.

Okabe, in turn, had been reassigned under other captains whenever he left for operations.

For reasons never spoken aloud, he was also the one the Commander trusted most, which probably wasn’t only about his strength.

Technically, all captains shared the same rank, but this one carried a higher weight than the rest of them.

Unlike his peers, he almost never set foot outside the Hokage Building right now, not to mention the village.

His sole duty was to guard the Commander, the Hokage, and the heart of the village itself.

Anyways, regarding Renjiro and Kanae, Okabe understood why.

They weren’t just recruits; they were meant to check each other, restrain each other, and make betrayal impossible.

That was why two fresh, fitting, talented, and potentially interested Academy graduates had already been marked and approached for training under Anbu once the higher-ups and they reached a consensus on this ‘monitoring mission’ and their futures within Anbu as regular members thereafter.

But only Okabe was told more. Only he was trusted with the boy’s true origin and backstory.

He needed that knowledge because his role was heavier; he had to watch the Senju more closely than anyone else.

If there were surviving subordinates, hidden contacts, or any dangerous stirrings of the old bloodline, Okabe would be the one to notice.

He had to know what he was looking at to monitor, and, if it came to it, control the boy.

Okabe inhaled, steady but cautious, continuing.

“…I didn’t see his clash inside the depot myself. I drew out and was tied down in a battle with nearly all of the infiltrators, at the same time, to allow him to strike the depot from the back. But when he separated from us to strike the outpost, something clearly happened there.”

The Commander’s tone cut across like a blade. “Something? Be precise, Okabe.”

Okabe inhaled slowly. “When he was supposed to destroy the intel, he disappeared from the battle zone for a short time. According to Kanae Hyūga, he ran into her mid-combat. She said his chakra pathway system was largely unstable then, his movements clumsy and ‘untrained’, his chakra near his brain was especially swirling, like he’d been hit by a powerful genjutsu, which he also admitted. He even told her he needed to ‘recover and meditate’ to survive before going back to finish his mission. She relayed all of this to me after she separated from him again and baited away the enemies toward me to help him meditate.”

From the side, the Captain gave a quiet scoff.”Meditate? In the middle of an enemy outpost? That’s strange.”

Okabe continued carefully. “That’s what she thought, too. She used her Byakugan to scan him. She told me later that, at that time, his chakra flow and brain activity were erratic, but by the time we regrouped, she signalled to me that those things had fully calmed. She also signaled to me that the only oddity she noticed remaining was around his soul, chakra gathered strangely near the brain, and that even she couldn’t explain it any more than.”

The Commander leaned forward, his voice low and cold.”So his body balanced out quickly. That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“Yes, sir,” Okabe said. “And there’s more. We all witnessed something else. For the first time, he revealed a unique ability. He froze his wounds in place.”

The Captain interjected, almost amused. “Froze? Explain.”

Okabe nodded. “I don’t mean with ice. He stopped the bleeding, sealed torn flesh, but not by closing the wounds completely. It was as if he suspended them in time. The injuries didn’t worsen until later when he let the effect drop. It looked like some advanced form of Yang Release, delaying damage until he had room to act. I’ve never seen another genin do it.”

A pause filled the room, the Commander’s silence stretching. Then his voice cut back in.”And that’s how he managed to finish the mission?”

“…Yes,” Okabe admitted. “It’s the only reason he could burn the cache before collapsing. Without it, the boy would be dead.”

The Captain chuckled faintly. “Convenient trick. Half corpse, half soldier.”

The Commander ignored him. “His current state?”

Okabe hesitated. “…Severely injured. Even with that technique, his body took heavy damage. He won’t recover quickly.”

The Commander pressed further. “And his level. Can you gauge it?”

Okabe shook his head. “That’s the problem. Before this mission, years of surveillance, and the last three months under Kanae’s direct observation placed him around high Chūnin. Strong reserves, decent combat polish, especially for his age. But what we saw this time is harder to measure. When Kanae met him, he looked weak, almost helpless. When he came back to us later, he seemed stronger again, but not the same as before. We can’t tell how far he dropped, or how much he recovered. His strength slipped in and out like—”

“—like he wasn’t one consistent person,” the Captain finished flatly, arms crossed.

Okabe bowed his head deeper. “…Yes. That’s what it felt like.”

The Commander’s voice came slow, deliberate, final.

“Then continue watching. Every rise, every fall, every fluctuation. His bloodline is Senju. That alone makes him dangerous.”

Okabe’s fists clenched on the floor. “Understood.”

The Captain leaned closer to the Commander, but spoke loud enough for Okabe to hear. His tone was mocking, but with an edge of warning.

“Sounds to me like our boy’s either broken… or something new. Either way, keeping him alive for now is smarter than killing him outright. Dead men can’t be studied.”

The Commander finally shifted back in his chair. His masked face was unreadable, but the weight in his words made Okabe’s spine lock rigid. “…For now.”

“You are excused, Okabe. Wait in the guest room with your team. Someone will call you.”

Okabe bowed low, forehead nearly touching the floor. He rose slowly, retreating with careful steps, never daring to lift his eyes until he had crossed the doorway.

Only once the heavy silence of the chamber was behind him did he let out the faintest breath. His chest was tight, but it wasn’t fear that gripped him; it was exhilaration.

To stand even briefly before the Commander meant his value had risen higher than ever before.

Meanwhile, the two of them were now the only ones left in the room.

“Hisamichi, so far, your recommendation has worked without issue. But understand this, if mistakes are made in the future regarding this matter, regarding this… variable, my father will make me pay for it even though he is usually quite forgiving. And if that happens, I won’t hesitate to drag you down with me. Friendship won’t save you then.”

Both men rose at the same time, the Commander from his chair and the Captain from his knees. Despite their postures easing, both still wore their masks.

They stood not as superior and subordinate, but as long-time allies bound by something more complicated.

“Don’t worry, Shinsuke,” Hisamichi answered calmly. “I know that this boy is the highest-priority remnant for the Senju revivalist ‘stabilization measures’ plan launched many decades ago by the Lord.”

“Okabe is ambitious, scheming, and understands the ceiling imposed by his civilian pedigree. He knows that if he wants to rise further in this village, both as a shinobi and as a man, he knows the only path forward is to attach himself to you.”

“Betrayal isn’t in the cards. His intelligence is solid for this, his loyalty even better. The only weakness is that his strength is still lacking. But that won’t matter when the time comes for the heavier task regarding the boy. Others will carry that weight. His role is not to be the blade, but to ensure the blade can strike more precisely.”

Shinsuke tilted his head slightly. “But what are his demands if the matter is accomplished?”

“I promised him one A-rank technique tailored for his skills,” Hisamichi replied without pause.

“And a promise that he’ll eventually return to my side permanently, stationed here to serve you directly. That’s enough to bind him. Ambition will do the rest.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep