Three days later.
Land of Lightning, Kumogakure.
ANBU training ground.
"Lightning Release, Double Lariat!"
"Yaa!"
With a pair of thunderous roars, two towering figures wrapped head to toe in crackling light shot at each other like gods of the storm.
Zzzzzzt!
Lightning flashed.
The ground itself carved into a trench beneath their ferocious acceleration.
Boom.
Two corded arms wreathed in blue-white arcs slammed together.
Crackle.
The Lightning Release Chakra Mode flared, the clash locked in place. The glare swelling between them flooded the center of the training yard, for a heartbeat brighter than the sun.
"Ha! That hits the spot."
The light dimmed over his rugged frame. ANBU captain Yotsuki Takeru rolled his shoulders and let out a satisfied breath, the knots in his muscles easing at last.
"Damn it. Sitting at a desk every day is turning me to rust. They keep dumping intel work on me. I hate this crap."
Smack.
A palm the size of a bear's paw cracked down on the back of his head.
"Who the hell are you calling 'me, me, me' like you're some big shot?"
Yotsuki Isamu, hair and beard both white, glared as he spoke. His brown skin was latticed with veins like the roots of an ancient tree, his whole bulk a size larger than his son's.
Takeru, who feared neither heaven nor earth and normally used "Mom" like a comma, hunched his neck at once.
"Not you, old man. I didn't mean you."
"In this whole clan you're the weakest. If you aren't ANBU captain, who would they stick there? Damn it, I'm a terror on the battlefield. How did I end up with a son like you?"
Isamu's voice boomed across the yard like a temple bell.
"Come on, Pops, throw me a little dignity out here," Takeru muttered, shooting a warning glare at the rubbernecking onlookers.
"You want dignity with Lightning Release Chakra Mode as sloppy as that?"
One look at Takeru's shifty expression set Isamu's blood boiling again.
Since the village was founded, the Yotsuki had held Kumogakure's political core.
Not for any reason but one. Power. Even after the clan's secret technique, the Lightning Release Armor, spread through the entire village, no one could match them.
Everyone trained the same method. The Yotsuki were still stronger.
Those who can rise. Those who cannot step aside.
Strength so absolute it silenced complaint.
That was why Kumo was the most united of the Five Great Villages. Except for the Gold and Silver Brothers, missing-nin were almost unheard of.
The supremacy of strength was Kumogakure's rule. It was the Yotsuki's rule as well.
Every time a Raikage was chosen, the clan's elite assembled, the strongest among the strong, and fought in turn for the right to the hat.
As for the job nobody wanted, ANBU captain, the rules were reversed.
From the elite jōnin they picked the weakest batch, had them fight, and the least of them got stuck with the office. Paperwork forever.
"At the clan tourney you could not beat a soul. You dragged my name through the mud."
Isamu slapped his own cheeks twice for emphasis.
"I fought the Third Raikage for the title, you hear me? Do you know how many old comrades have been laughing at me since you took that captain's seat? And you have the nerve to sulk?"
"If you are weak, you train."
"If you are still sitting in that sorry chair next year, I will slap you silly with the Lariat."
Isamu's bellow shook the clouds.
Takeru, usually the loudest in any room, hunched like a scolded bear, his brawny frame shrinking down like a quail. He did not dare peep.
ANBU operatives drifted closer, drawn by the noise. Seeing their bullying, heavy-handed captain get chewed out, they pressed their lips together to hide their grins. None of them dared stare.
Like father, like son.
Takeru scolded people the same way. None of them wanted to be the next target.
"Captain, report."
"'Beast' has sent a classified dispatch."
Just as Takeru's face was heating so hard he could not take any more, a curvy ANBU kunoichi jogged up in standard-issue gear.
Thank the gods. The man who hated thinking and whose head throbbed at the word "intelligence" brightened at once. At least it got him out from under that tongue-lashing.
"Uh, Pops, I actually have a brief"
"You cannot even master Hell Stab. What brief."
Isamu was not interested in his excuses.
Everyone knew his female aide handled the intel anyway. What "brief."
"Process it here. When you are done, you will spar with me again. Ahem. Spar."
Isamu pounded a fist against his barrel chest and planted himself to wait.
Takeru could only shake his head.
His father was old enough to enjoy a quiet life, yet insisted on training with him. Fifty years of Lightning Release Chakra Mode made him a monster, but his body was near its limit.
Back in the day he had marched to war alongside the Third Raikage and taken a brutal wound to the lungs from Ōnoki.
When he was young, it barely showed. Age brought a parade of ailments.
The medics had told him to rest. Move as little as possible. Ten more years would not be a problem.
He did not listen.
As the old man put it, I can die training, I can die on a mission, I can die on the battlefield. What I will not do is die whining in bed.
What was there to say after that.
Even the Fourth Raikage called him "Third Uncle." Who in Kumo could stop him.
They could only let him be.
"Here you are. Two separate reports."
The aide, unaware of her captain's thoughts, handed over the newly arrived messages delivered by swallow post.
"Two?" Takeru frowned.
To reduce exposure, their field agent usually sent one packet about once a month.
Two at once meant something urgent.
"One came in late last night. The other was marked priority this morning. I brought both." The aide explained.
Takeru nodded and took them.
They were already decrypted and translated into plain text, with priority tags and notes.
"Tension between the Uchiha and Konoha's leadership?"
He spotted the key line at a glance.
"The report says ANBU have surrounded the Uchiha compound. Even a bird has to pass a search to fly out. It is probably more than tension."
The aide added quietly.
"Excellent."
Takeru clapped once.
Ever since the God of Shinobi Senju Hashirama built the village system, Konoha had sat fat and happy on the top perch. War worshippers like Kumo had to settle for second.
How could anyone stand that.
When Konoha stumbled, Kumo cheered the loudest.
"If the Uchiha are wiped out, what a waste. If only we could make contact and drag a few back to breed."
Takeru smacked his lips, genuinely regretful.
He had heard his old man talk about the Sharingan. It was no worse than the Byakugan.
"The other report is about the Byakugan."
The aide tapped the second file.
"'Beast' has found a wild bearer of the Byakugan bloodline. A girl. Of childbearing age."
"Hm?"
Bored until this point, Isamu's head snapped around the moment he heard the word Byakugan.
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