As they approached the door, the distant sounds of battle reached their ears—shouts, the clash of steel, and the occasional burst of chakra. The ANBU team outside was holding their ground, their movements precise and restrained as they tried to subdue the civilian guards without causing unnecessary casualties. But the reinforcements were closing in, their numbers growing with each passing second. Izuku paused for a moment, his Sharingan scanning the corridor ahead, its crimson glow cutting through the dim light as he assessed the situation.

"Stick to the plan," he said, his voice low but commanding. "We're not engaging unless necessary."

Flower and Snow exchanged a glance but said nothing, their loyalty to the mission unwavering. They followed Izuku as he led them through the shadows, their movements fluid and deliberate. The mission wasn't over yet, and the stakes were only getting higher. But for now, they had what they needed—and that was enough.

Izuku tapped the communication device embedded in his gear, the faint crackle of static flaring to life as he spoke. "Team 5, we're outta here. Regroup at the first meeting point. We'll wait. Over."

A moment later, a voice crackled through the device, calm but firm. "That's not necessary, Crow. We'll pass the case to you. We'll only be an unnecessary annoyance."

Izuku sighed inwardly, his expression unreadable beneath his mask.At least they wouldn't interfere if we stumbled upon something that would make the Sorakage look bad,he thought. The political intricacies of their mission were always a delicate balancing act, and Team 5's decision to withdraw was as much about self-preservation as it was about practicality.

"Roger that, Team 5," Izuku replied, his tone clipped but professional. "Thanks for the help, and good luck."

The line went silent, and Izuku motioned for Flower and Snow to keep moving. The trio slipped through the shadows like ghosts, their presence undetected as they navigated the gloomy forest. The sounds of battle grew fainter behind them, replaced by the oppressive silence of the trees. But the tension remained, a constant reminder that they were far from safe.

Some time later, they arrived at a cave, a secluded spot sufficient for their investigation. Izuku unrolled the scroll containing the body, his fingers brushing against the seal as he injected a faint trace of chakra. A puff of smoke erupted, and when it cleared, Izuku's frown deepened. What emerged from the scroll wasn't the person they had intended to interrogate—it was a pile of ashes.

"The fuck?" Snow muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he eyed the ashes scattered across the ground. "What happened? Did the seal malfunction?"

Izuku didn't respond immediately. Instead, he moved swiftly to one of the unconscious ANBU rookies they had brought with them. He lifted the kid's arm, inspecting it carefully. At first, he found nothing, but when he turned the arm over, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Konoha ANBU, huh," Izuku muttered under his breath, his voice low and grim. His earlier suspicions were now undeniable. There, on the left shoulder of the kid, was a tattoo—no, a seal. It was a specialized Konoha design, one meant to ensure that any Shinobi Missing in Action (MIA) would not become a Prisoner of War (POW). The seal was designed to detect if the chakra network in the arm ceased functioning, triggering a self-destruction mechanism to prevent capture and interrogation.

This level of Fuinjutsu was unique to Konohagakure. The only other group known to employ such advanced security seals was the CSA.

"Wait, what?" Flower almost yelled, her voice rising in confusion and frustration. She stepped closer, her eyes darting between Izuku and the unconscious ANBU kid. "And you knew him? Were you in the ANBU or sum?"

Izuku sighed, his expression darkening as he straightened up. "No," he said, his tone measured but heavy with implication. "But he was one of the supposed Kiri shinobi who targeted me during that missive mission back in the day. I didn't recognize him at first, but this seal confirms it. He's not from Kirigakure—he's from Konoha."

Flower's eyes widened, her mind racing to piece together the implications. "So, what? You're saying there's a rogue faction within Konoha? But we've had good relations with the Hokage. Why would they—"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Izuku interrupted, his voice sharp. "This isn't about the Kage. This is about someone operating outside the chain of command, someone with enough resources and influence to pull this off without drawing attention."

Snow crossed his arms, his expression skeptical but intrigued. "So, what now? We've got a pile of ashes and kids with a Konoha seal. That's not exactly actionable intel."

Izuku's Sharingan flickered as he glanced at the ashes, then at the civilian official slumped against the cave wall. The man was still unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. "We've got more than that," he said. "We've got a lead. These kids might not know much, but this fella might know something. And if we can trace that connection, we can find out who's pulling the strings."

Flower stepped forward, her arms crossed and her expression skeptical. "You really think he'll talk? Civilians like him are usually kept in the dark. They're just pawns in these kinds of games."

Izuku's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Maybe. But even pawns know more than they realize. And if he doesn't talk willingly..." He trailed off, his Sharingan glowing faintly in the dim light of the cave. The unspoken threat hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable.

Snow raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "You're not suggesting we torture him, are you? Because last I checked, that's not exactly standard protocol."

Izuku's expression didn't change. "We'll do what we have to do. This isn't just about the mission anymore. If there's a rogue faction operating within Konoha, we need to know who they are, what they want, and how far their influence reaches. And if that means bending a few rules, so be it."

Flower and Snow exchanged a glance, their unease evident. They were no strangers to the darker side of shinobi work, but Izuku's cold pragmatism was something they weren't accustomed to coming from the teen. Still, they didn't argue. They knew better than to question him when he was like this.

"Wake up," Izuku said, his voice sharp as he kicked the civilian on the ground. "Come on, you're wasting enough time." He delivered another kick, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

The civilian groaned, his body jerking as he slowly regained consciousness. He looked up, his eyes widening in fear as he took in the masked figure looming over him. But despite his terror, he found the courage to sneer, his voice trembling but defiant. "Do you know what you just did?"

Izuku shrugged, his tone casual but laced with menace. "Well, the things you did are far more detrimental than what we've done. So now, let's start with a simple question: what did you do?"

The civilian's defiance flared, his voice rising as he spat back, "Konoha will kill you for this!"

Izuku's response was calm, almost mocking. "Oh no, no. Leaf shinobi are no more right now."

The man's face twisted in anger, his fear momentarily overshadowed by his outrage. "They will cut your head off!"

But before he could continue, Izuku's fist connected with his face, the impact sending him sprawling to the floor. The man groaned, his hands still bound behind his back as he struggled to recover from the blow.

"Shut the fuck up!" Izuku snapped, his voice cutting through the cave like a whip. "You still haven't answered me yet." He turned to his teammates, who were still visibly conflicted about the sudden shift in Izuku's demeanor. "You know what? Let's show him how we end corruption, yeah?"

Flower and Snow exchanged another glance, their expressions a mix of reluctance and resignation. After a moment, they sighed in unison, their voices flat but compliant. "Yup, yup."

Izuku's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile as he turned back to the civilian. The man's bravado was fading, replaced by a growing sense of dread as he realized the gravity of his situation. Izuku knelt beside him, his Sharingan glowing faintly in the dim light of the cave.

"Let's try this again," Izuku said, his voice low and calm but carrying an edge that made the man flinch. "What did you do? And don't waste my time with empty threats. You're not walking out of here until I get answers."

The civilian's defiance wavered, his eyes darting between Izuku and the two shinobi standing behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only a faint, trembling breath.

Izuku leaned in closer, his Sharingan locking onto the man's eyes. "Tick-tock," he said, his voice a whisper now. "Your time's running out."

In a barely illuminated room, a man sat at a desk, his features shadowed by the faint light behind him. The scratching of his pen against parchment filled the silence as he diligently wrote documents and letters. The room was quiet, save for the occasional flicker of the dim candlelight casting long shadows across the walls.

Suddenly, the air shifted. A creature emerged from the ground, its form dark and unrecognizable, as if light itself bent and fractured around it. Its voice was eerie, devoid of any emotion a human might recognize. "I hope you haven't forgotten about our goal."

The man looked up, his Sharingan's crimson glow cutting through the darkness. His voice was calm but carried an edge of authority. "Of course not. Rest assured, it won't take much longer."

The creature, seemingly capable of mocking emotion, let out a low, guttural snort. "It's been almost six years. The Master will not appreciate further delays."

In an instant, the man was in front of the creature, crouched to meet its eyeless gaze. His movements were so swift they seemed almost telepathic. "I would appreciate a little trust. I said things would be done soon. Have some patience."

Standing, he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and strode out of the room. The creature followed, its form flickering in and out of existence like a shadow. The man walked through a dense forest, the moonlight barely piercing the canopy above. He stopped in front of a specific tree, its gnarled roots twisting into the earth like ancient fingers. He stared at the ground in front of it, his voice steady but firm.

"Tell him the plan remains unchanged, and so does mine. However, by my estimation, it will take another year to conclude. Therefore, I would like to apologize and request our meeting shortly after."

The creature emerged from the ground once more, its form rippling like ink in water. It chuckled, a sound that sent shivers through the air. "Understood. But, as I said, the Master will be greatly disappointed. After all, the Fourth Great Shinobi War ended three years ago. He placed his trust in you."

The man's expression darkened, his Sharingan glowing with an intensity that cast its crimson light over the ground. "The war's end changed nothing. If anything, it complicated matters. The world is in flux, and rushing now would only jeopardize everything we've worked for."

The creature tilted its head, its featureless face somehow conveying a sense of mockery. "Excuses, excuses. The Master does not tolerate delays, no matter the reason. He has waited long enough."

The man's voice grew colder, his patience wearing thin. "Then perhaps the Master should consider the consequences of haste. The Nine-Tails' attack, the capture of the heir—both were the result of impatience. I will not repeat the same mistakes by following Master's guidance blindly."

The man's expression hardened, his Sharingan glowing brighter. "This is non-negotiable. If you want something, you have to give something in return. Business 101—something he should already know."

The creature's form flickered, as if agitated by the man's words. "You tread on dangerous ground, speaking of the Master's failures as if they weren't born from your own incompetence. Remember your place."

The man crouched, his hand touching the ground as if nostalgic for what lay beneath the dirt. His presence intensified, imposing despite the creature's unnatural aura. "My place is to ensure our success, not to cater to his whims. If he wants this done right, he'll trust my judgment. If not, he's welcome to find someone else—though I doubt he will."

The creature hissed, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "You are arrogant, Deserter. The Master's patience is not infinite."

"And neither is mine," the man shot back, his Sharingan spinning slowly. "Tell the Master this: the pieces are in place, and the board is set. One more year, and I will begin delivering what he desires. But if he interferes now, he risks losing everything."

He sighed, turning to face the creature fully. This time, his Sharingan was different—no longer the familiar three tomoe, but four slashes crossing each other, forming a shuriken-like pattern. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, charged with an unspoken power.

"I regret that it has taken this long. So, once again, send my apologies to Madara-sama."