Chương 522: INTERLUDE_13.9 (522)

Yuhi Kurenai liked to begin her mornings quietly with her thoughts. That day was no different as she headed to the balcony with the newspaper tucked under her arm and a warm honey-lemon drink in her hand. She paused when she saw Anko on the balcony. The glass sliding door was fully open; the curtains fluttered in the morning breeze. Her roommate had her back to her and was sitting cross-legged on a mat.

Kurenai glanced at the wall clock to her left; there was still an hour and a half until Anko's usual wake-up time. Her friend wasn't the type to meditate in the morning—or at all. She was about to step forward and call out when she stopped, her body stilling as she felt the faint pressure of chakra emanating from Anko. Those with an acute chakra sense became sensory-nin, but everyone could sense chakra to some extent if it was strong enough.

As a jōnin, even if she couldn't match a sensory-nin, Kurenai had sharper senses than normal people. At her distance, she could feel the chakra coming off Anko. It was chaotic, cycling between giving off warmth in the air, vibrations underfoot, and a breeze that wafted the steam coming from her mug. Anko's chakra was switching between natures: Fire, Earth, and Wind—the three she was proficient in. Kurenai's eyes sharpened. Anko was close; she could feel it.

Over the past year, Anko had begun to apply herself seriously to her training, and her understanding of chakra had risen rapidly. Kurenai had always known that her friend was a generational talent, but the past year had been a showcase of it. She focused on the chaotic chakra that was in constant flux between shape and nature manipulation. Anko had attained the necessary understanding of chakra, but it wasn't enough. The real challenge now was to put it together to advance.

That was the most difficult part of the process. Most of the few people who somehow managed to reach where Anko was failed to progress forward, ending up chasing the dream for decades until they finally gave up. But if she were successful, it would change everything. Not wanting to disturb her, Kurenai silently backed away. She would start her day at the dining table. Anko was at a very delicate moment in her life.

As her friend, the only thing Kurenai could do was give her space and ensure there were no disturbances in their home. ———. Morino Ibiki was a tokubetsu jōnin of the Hidden Leaf and the Head of the Torture and Interrogation Force under the Leaf Intelligence Division. He stopped at the open door of a black site facility maintained by Torture and Interrogation. It was a medium-sized room with four bunk beds, two tables, and a refrigerator.

It was used by shinobi who were working at the site and needed a place to sleep or rest in case going home wasn't feasible. The room was dark, but the light from the corridor outside bled in. In the top bunk of the bed furthest from the door, he saw Chūnin Mitarashi Anko sitting on her bed in a meditative pose. First, seeing her in a meditative pose was a shock because that required being silent, and the young woman didn't have a quiet bone in her body; he wondered if she were sleeping.

Second, seeing her in the lounge was unexpected in itself because the Anko he knew would go out even if there were only half an hour of free time. If she wasn't working, she would rather be anywhere but here. Her reason? This place was the most boring place in existence—and in her own words, she was only slightly exaggerating. Ibiki had seen the schedule. The time slot for the interrogation room that Anko had booked had already passed two hours ago, and there were no additional allotment requests.

That meant she had been in the black site for two hours. Something had changed since Anko's return from the ROOT eradication mission. She was still just as rambunctious and mannerless as ever, but since getting back, there were occasional bouts of silent calm. He didn't know what had happened during the mission, but he didn't think it was bad. It didn't raise any alarms—as it would if someone's actions or behaviours suddenly changed due to suspicious activity—so for now, he was content with just observing her.

"What? Stop standing there all creepy," Anko suddenly said without opening her eyes.

"I thought you said I was always creepy and there was no way to hide it."

"Say whatever you want to say." Ibiki thought about asking what was going on with her, but then changed his mind.

"We have been asked to participate in the Chūnin Exam that the village will host next year. We have to submit proposals for the stages of the exam."

"Why are they asking us so early? There's still over a year, yeah?"

"Because people know that we are busy and are giving us enough time so we don't have to sacrifice our primary duties. And by busy, I mean everyone other than you." Anko snorted in the darkness.

"There's no need for this much time. Chuck 'em in the Forest of Death and call it a day. Those who manage to reach the centre are good enough." The Hidden Leaf Village's 44th Training Ground, also known as the Forest of Death, was a specialised environment primarily used for survival and deep-forest combat training at the higher genin level, as well as for war games between teams of genin led by chūnin. This story originates from a different website.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. It wasn't a bad idea, but Ibiki sighed because it was only an idea and not a proper proposal. If he validated or praised her now, she would certainly slack off.

"I want a proposal from you by next month and another one in two months. Don't try to slack off. I'll dock your wages if the proposals are half-assed."

"Anything you say, boss. Close the door as you leave." Anko then went silent, slipping back into a meditative state. Ibiki sighed again. He couldn't recall anyone other than her who talked to him like this. If he were a lesser man, he would have punished her or kicked her out of the Torture and Interrogation Force, but he had seen brilliant shinobi who surrounded themselves with 'yes-men' who warped their perspective by never disagreeing with anything, even if it was gravely wrong.

Even if Anko was rude, she spoke the truth. In his position, people being polite and holding their tongues was inevitable. They wanted to curry favour. When people saw that he didn't punish Anko's bluntness, they didn't fear voicing their thoughts. Of course, there were some who misunderstood his intentions. They thought of him as a pushover or a doormat, and pushed their luck. He dealt with them. He wouldn't be worthy of his position if he couldn't maintain discipline over his own men.

Ibiki closed the door as she had asked and left. ———. Anko lay on her back in a park behind the headquarters of the Torture and Interrogation Force. It was a place that many T&I shinobi used to eat their meals, but lunch break had ended an hour ago, and almost everyone had returned to work. Smack-dab in the middle of the park, she traced the shapes of the faint clouds in the sky. It had been nearly four months since her return, and she had been struggling ever since.

Her contributions in the battle against Orochimaru were recognised, and she was personally awarded for them by the Lord Hokage. She received a handsome pay bump, a promotion at work that had her handling more interesting cases—she even got to work with ANBU after a request from a certain newly promoted ANBU Lieutenant—and was given prestige that she had lacked for the longest time despite having gone to war. More importantly, there was finally a change in perception.

The eyes that had always looked at her suspiciously due to her connection with Orochimaru had changed when they heard that she had bravely fought against the traitor. She had talked to more new people in the past four months than in any other period of her life—which was saying something because she usually met new people in nightclubs every weekend. Her life and career were looking up and up.

For the first time, she truly felt that her life was returning to the way it had been before Orochimaru had defected from the village and ruined it with his horrifying deeds. And yet, she found herself unable to enjoy it. Anko closed her eyes, and it was as though she was transported back to the hellscape of a scorching conflagration, an overbearing tsunami, suffocating steam, and the golden palm falling from the sky as monstrous jōnin duked it out.

It only took one thought, and she could return to the horrifying period of time when her life was in great and constant danger of ending. All it took was a stray thought, and she would relive that day as she once again faced Orochimaru. One would think it would be a traumatic experience, but honestly, she was numb to that entire day—which definitely wasn't a good sign for her mental health.

She didn't lose any sleep, nor did she feel the need to push the memories away, unlike many shinobi who had the disadvantage of having up-close seats to a full-on clash between two jōnin. It was a very immersive experience. There was only one thing that haunted her. The chakra. Their chakra. It was seared in her mind, and she hadn't been able to shake it from her mind. She had felt it from her soul. It was the same chakra that she possessed, but how could they use it to exert that much power?

What was it that made her different from a jōnin? It was their understanding of chakra. What was chakra? She thought she knew chakra; she was proficient with it. However, for the past four months, she felt utterly inadequate—more so like never before. Every time she handled chakra, it felt tiring and burdensome because she didn't understand it. She felt she was wasting the chakra she had been using without much thought until very recently.

It was utterly frustrating for the first month, until she decided to do something about it and began to augment her understanding by experimenting with her chakra. She recalled what she had seen in that forest, focusing on every little feeling she could remember so she could learn from how the jōnin used their chakra, and it was both invigorating and frustrating. The feeling of real, tangible progress every day made her feel like she was in the clouds, and yet her skill with chakra was incomparable to theirs.

No matter what she tried, she couldn't do what they did. Anko sat up and summoned her chakra with a deep breath. She channelled it throughout her body, changing its properties. She changed its nature to Fire, then raised her hand, and a small flame erupted above her palm. It was light, warm, and not particularly bright. She applied her knowledge and willed the fire to grow fuller, making it twice its size. Next, she raised its temperature, causing a sharp heat to spread out.

Finally, she made the fire burn brighter until it forced her to squint. How many shinobi could produce fire, even if it was small enough to fit in their palm, without using hand seals? Not many; she could show this to many chūnin who were skilled in ninjutsu, and they would be either impressed or envious. And yet, this was not enough to be a jōnin. Anko knew how they did what they did. She was confident she knew enough about chakra to rival a jōnin's, but she couldn't do what they did. Something was blocking her.

And she didn't want to admit it, but she knew exactly what was blocking her. She had tried to work around it for the past two months, but every day, it became clear that she couldn't avoid it. She had no other choice but to confront it. ———. A week later, Anko found herself in the Hokage's Office, standing in front of the man with whom she shared a long, complicated bond because they had been hurt by the same person.

"Can you repeat that, Chūnin Anko? I'm not sure if I heard you right. And if I did, I'm not sure it's wise." Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, gazed at her with a serious expression on his old, wrinkled face.

"You heard it right, Lord Hokage," Anko said with conviction. She was dressed in her Leaf uniform, something she didn't do often, but she wanted her request to be taken seriously. Hiruzen leaned back in his chair and gazed at her for an extended silent moment before sighing in resignation.

"I can understand your reasoning. I think it holds logic, and in this case, you know it best. I will not stop you. But are you sure, child? Do you not want to give it more time? Perhaps there might not be a need for this?"

"I'm sure, sir… I want you to lift the fūinjutsu suppressing Orochimaru's Cursed Seal."