Chương 118: Anbu Must Act the Part

The Anbu—formally the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, or the Assassination Tactical Special Force. Founded by the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, this elite cadre answered directly to the Hokage. While the selection process demanded exceptional talent and raw power, the ultimate prerequisite was absolute, unwavering loyalty.

Tasked with assassination, high-stakes espionage, and the protection of the Hokage and other dignitaries, the Anbu operated in a theater where the casualty rate dwarfed that of the regular shinobi forces. Currently, Konoha played host to two distinct Anbu wings. The first was the official arm held by the Third Hokage.

With his abdication, this force would gradually transition to his successor, though while the greenest recruits were being handed over, the grizzled veterans were slated to return to the regular shinobi ranks. The second was a far more shadowed affair: The Root. Operatively illegal yet tolerated, it was governed by the Hokage's Advisor, Danzo Shimura. Originally established as a training division for the Anbu, it had long since mutated into Danzo's private militia.

Every member bore a cursed seal on their tongue, ensuring they followed only his commands. To the leadership, the "training" label was a hollow promise. Hiruzen wouldn't dare utilize ninjas forged in Danzo's image, and Minato Namikaze trusted them even less. To the Fourth, Root was a redundant cancer—a living mockery of the Will of Fire. Minato harbored every intention of dismantling it, but Danzo remained unperturbed. He knew his old teammate would shield him.

The bond between Hiruzen and Danzo was a strange, enduring thing; the Third's office door had likely been replaced more times than one could count following their explosive disagreements over the necessity of the Root. Now, with the Fourth's ascension, Konoha was forging a new Anbu division to serve as his primary instrument. It was a standard transfer of power, albeit an urgent one. The following morning, led by Unami Gekko, Zhen's trio entered a training hall deep within the Anbu base.

It was a novel experience for the three newcomers, though the base itself felt strangely desolate. Masked figures moved through the corridors like ghosts, acknowledging one another with nothing more than a curt nod. Communication was a luxury they did not afford themselves. According to Unami—who had served in the shadows during his younger years—this was still a sanctuary compared to Danzo's subterranean Root.

That place, he claimed, was suffocatingly oppressive, as gloomy and lightless as the man who commanded it. Inside the training hall, three other shinobi awaited them. They appeared slightly older than Zhen's group, roughly the same age as Kakashi. Zhen recognized them immediately: Genma Shiranui, Raido Namiashi, and Iwashi Tatami. While Zhen had only ever exchanged a few words with Genma—verifying, much to his relief, that the boy had no younger sister—he had seen the others on the Eastern and Northern fronts.

They were acquaintances at best, but they were familiar faces. In the original timeline, these three would eventually form Minato's teleportation platoon. Now, with Zhen's team added to the mix, they numbered six—mirroring the legendary guard of the Second Hokage. The selection was telling. Every single one of them hailed from commoner backgrounds or minor families. Minato Namikaze clearly understood exactly where his political foundation lay.

"Yo, Genma. Been a while," Zhen greeted. Genma Shiranui, perpetually leaning against the wall with a senbon toothpick dangling from his lips, offered a languid wave.

"Well, if it isn't you lot. It has been a minute."

"Just you?" Zhen asked.

"Did the team with Guy and Ebisu dissolve?"

"More or less," Genma replied with a shrug.

"Now that the war's over, Guy is obsessing over his taijutsu, and Ebisu decided his fundamentals were lacking. He went home to hit the books." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"That's enough small talk," Unami Gekko interrupted, his tone shifting into a professional edge.

"From this point forward, this room serves as your briefing and operations lounge. Look to the lockers on your left. Find the compartment marked with your name, gear up, and fall in." The six complied, retrieving the standardized equipment. The uniform was a stark, utilitarian ensemble: grey flak jackets, black guards, and finely forged tantō blades that lacked any distinguishing marks. Only the masks offered a hint of individuality, each bearing a unique porcelain pattern.

Zhen and his peers had been eligible for the standard green flak jackets since their promotion to Chunin, but since the village didn't enforce a dress code and most standard issue jackets were too large for their frames, they had stuck to their civilian clothes. The Anbu, however, demanded absolute uniformity. Once equipped, the six assembled, their faces hidden behind the cold visages of porcelain beasts.

"Excellent," Unami continued.

"Now, remove your masks. For the next five minutes, your task is simple: choose a codename."

"Is there a protocol for this, Sensei?" Hayate asked.

"My codename is Goshawk," Unami corrected him sharply.

"Within these walls, you address me as Captain Goshawk. As for the names, there are no strict rules, provided they don't compromise your identity. Most stick to animal motifs." The two teams broke off into separate huddles. Yugao Uzuki wanted something that sounded both elegant and formidable, but the sheer breadth of the animal kingdom left her paralyzed by choice.

"Oh, I can't decide! What sounds right?" Hayate, ever the dutiful son, looked to his father.

"Maybe we should stick to birds?"

"Good idea," Yugao chirped.

"I like owls. Let's go with that."

"Owl is a bit broad, isn't it?" Hayate countered.

"We're a squad; we should have a theme. If you're 'Owl,' what am I? Owl Number Two? It lacks punch."

"I am definitely not being 'Owl Number Three,'" Zhen interjected. He thought for a second.

"Owls belong to the family Strigidae. Why not pick specific species within that family?" Yugao's eyes brightened.

"Perfect! I'll be Snowy Owl. They're beautiful."

"I'll take Hawk-Owl," Hayate decided.

"Sounds more aggressive." Zhen had actually been eyeing Snowy Owl himself—who didn't love a majestic, round-faced bird of prey? —but he was too late to claim it.

"I'll go with Tawny Owl. A silent, versatile killer of the woods." The five minutes expired, and the six recruits reported their choices. Zhen's team had claimed the owls, while Genma's trio had opted for various large felids. What was supposed to be an elite guard had suddenly transformed into a menagerie.

"Acceptable," Unami said.

"In the field, you will discard your names. You will address one another only by these aliases. Learn the patterns on your teammates' masks. Memorize them until you can identify a comrade at a glance. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Captain!" the six chorused.

"The Anbu, by definition, are those who dwell in the shadows. Your masks and names exist to erase your identity. We execute the missions that cannot be tied to Konoha. If you fall, you are expected to dispose of your own remains through whatever means necessary. You leave nothing behind. However, your position is unique. As members of the Hokage's Personal Guard, there will be ceremonial occasions where you are permitted to unmask and stand as the public face of the village's strength." Genma raised a hand.

"Captain Goshawk, what kind of occasions are we talking about?" Unami flashed a predatory, slightly malicious grin.

"Eager to find out? Your study materials are waiting in the next room. You'll find the Guard's operational schedule, as well as the Anbu's proprietary hand signals, ciphers, and encryption codes. You have one week to master them all." As ninjas, they were trained in rote memorization, and Zhen initially thought the timeline was generous.

"A week? That should be plenty."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Unami countered.

"The study material is just the beginning. You'll also be absorbing classified dossiers on village security and spending your 'free' time training for tactical cohesion with your new counterparts." The six stared at him in stunned silence. Unami led them into the adjacent room. Seeing the mountains of scrolls and thick tomes waiting for them, the recruits felt a collective wave of exhaustion. Genma's senbon slipped from his lips and clattered onto the floor.

Apparently, the life of an Anbu was less about silent assassinations and more about being buried in paperwork. Watching them dive into the work, Unami slipped out of the room. He had a grueling schedule ahead—beyond nursery-maiding these six rookies, he had to finalize several veteran squads. Minato needed a force he could deploy immediately. But before he could tend to that, he had to find Kakashi Hatake. His former student had also been drafted into the new Anbu by Minato.

To be honest, Unami wasn't sure it was a wise move—especially for a boy who had suffered so much loss. Wear a mask for too long, and you lose the ability to face the sun.