When Kanae left the hall, the echo of her footsteps fading down the stone passage, the chamber fell silent.

Only the two remained, Commander and Captain.

Hisamichi broke it first, voice low but direct. “So, do you think she told the truth?”

Shinsuke did not answer at once.

He remained standing where he was, mask angled toward the door Kanae had disappeared through, as if measuring the air she had left behind.

When he finally spoke, his tone was measured, analytical.

“She did. Or rather, she told everything she knew. And that is the important difference. The boy hid even from her Byakugan. That confirms his cunning. But also, her report shows she was not shielding him.”

Hisamichi tilted his head slightly. “So nothing between them, then?”

A faint hum came from Shinsuke. “That’s not quite true. There is something. Anyone with experience and with eyes could read the way she flinched when we pressed her. But feelings do not equal betrayal. Not in someone like her. Kanae’s resentment toward her Main Branch masters runs deeper than whatever flicker she feels for a teammate. Her rational hatred of her cage is stronger. She will cling to whatever branch offers her power and protection, even if it means turning on him.”

The Captain regarded him for a moment before asking, “Do you truly plan to give her that protection? To make good on what you dangled?”

That was when Shinsuke finally smirked behind the mask. “Of course not. I couldn’t, even if I wanted. That’s clan business. But what I can do is lean on the Patriarch, request that she be treated… marginally better. A few privileges, a little more freedom of movement. Just enough to make her believe there’s hope if she serves us well. The illusion is all that’s needed.”

He said it casually, as if manipulating lives was the same as rearranging pieces on a shogi board.

Narration filled the silence between them.

This entire meeting had been designed for exactly that purpose.

Ryusei’s display of strength in Grass had unsettled even them.

They could no longer afford to rely on Okabe’s incompetence, nor the assumption that a Senju remnant would die quietly in the shadows.

They had to get much more personally involved and make sure that he didn’t get any stronger before he was eliminated. The Third Hokage even nearly blamed them, too.

The boy had survived too much already, and now the war would scatter their attention.

If he were to be eliminated, it would have to be, in part, through the people closest to him.

And that meant cementing Kanae and Renjiro firmly into place.

Okabe had already been scolded, reprimanded for failing to notice Ryusei’s hidden level.

He had groveled, admitted fault.

The greater blame, however, was pinned on Kanae.

She had the Byakugan. She should have noticed more.

And Okabe had slyly hinted she might even be harboring feelings that clouded her judgment.

Hence today’s test: a suffocating show of force, killing intent, veiled threats, and then, at the very end, the carrot.

Hisamichi broke the silence again. “Do you think the reward was too much? That Rotation technique is not given lightly.”

Shinsuke waved the concern away with a flick of his hand. “That’s the point. The more impossible the reward looks, the heavier the leash. If even ANBU possesses the secret techniques of the Hyūga’s Main Branch, then what chance does a Side Branch girl think she has? She’ll never dare betray us now. She’ll see only the invincibility of ANBU.”

He paused, then added, “Besides, the Hokage couldn’t reward her or Renjiro openly, even though they deserved it from that mission alone. Not while that Senju boy stood in the team. So I took what was already hers, from my father, and gave it through us. A clearer message could not be sent.”

It was true. Hiruzen had quietly gained access to some of the general Main Branch secret techniques through certain pliable Hyūga members of the Main Branch who secretly served the Hokage’s ideology more than the clan.

With their cooperation, the “Rotation” could be distributed selectively. In this case, Kanae had been handed only half. The other half was a promise, a chain disguised as a prize.

Shinsuke folded his arms. “Next, Renjiro. He will be brought here soon. Both of them are too talented to be left in limbo. If we show only the stick, we risk breaking it. If we show only the carrot, we risk arrogance. Balance is the method.”

Hisamichi gave a short, amused breath. “You almost sound like your father.”

Shinsuke ignored the barb. He was already thinking ahead.

The sensors who had been stationed in the shadows now emerged quietly, kneeling with their report.

Their words were brief but precise: Kanae had not lied.

She had reported and promised faithfully; her aura matched her truth.

But her emotions had spiked in strange ways when Ryusei’s name was pressed, complications of attachment, subtle but undeniable.

Shinsuke smirked faintly behind the mask. “As I said. I simply understand women better.”

Hisamichi tilted his head. “Love or not, what use is it? She will betray him anyway. Even feelings can be turned into weapons. In the end, if he dies, she will be the one holding the knife. That’s sharper than any punishment.”

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh, almost mocking. “Imagine it, having women who care for you so much, only for them to be forced to kill you with their own hands. That is his fate.”

Shinsuke said nothing at first, but the silence itself was confirmation.

Ryusei was too dangerous to leave alone, and now the pieces were being set.

Kanae, with her deadened eyes, her new rank, her chained reward, was theirs.

Renjiro would follow.

And when the war tore the world apart, the Senju heir would be surrounded not only by enemies abroad, but by knives at his back, sharpened in his own ‘team’.

As they prepared to summon and receive Renjiro similarly, Shinsuke and Hisamichi let the silence linger a moment before shifting the conversation.

Hisamichi spoke first, a faint chuckle in his voice.

“I never expected it. After Kakashi, another monster appeared in the youngest generation of the same Hatake clan, a few years apart in age. What a coincidence. It seems they truly were a legendary bloodline… Hard to understand how they dwindled to this state. Maybe the rumors are true, that their temperament, the way they cultivate themselves, makes them cold, too distant from women.”

The remark was half in jest, but Shinsuke only thought inwardly of another, bigger reason. It wasn’t just their temperament.

It was suppression, his father’s will, and the village’s policies pressing them down, generation after generation, precisely due to their potential. But he did not voice it.

Instead, he inclined his head slightly. “Perhaps. But either way, everyone on that team is a talent in their own right. That is partly why I chose to use both carrot and stick. Ryusei is different; his bloodline seals his fate. He must be removed. But Renjiro and Kanae… they can serve us well in the coming decades. Their ceilings aren’t low. Having such tools within ANBU is no trivial matter.”

Hisamichi gave a slight hum of agreement.

Both men knew it was true. The Grass mission had proved it: talent, discipline, resolve, they had all displayed it.

Now the village’s quiet consensus began to form. These four were considered the strongest of Konoha’s young generation.

Ryusei stood at the peak of them, the brightest spark among the four. Yet his path was already sealed.

His fate was to be cut short, consumed by the village before his fire could spread too far.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep