The Root compound was always silent. Even in the dead of night, it felt as though unseen eyes lingered just beyond the shadows, tracking every movement, every thought, every breath.
Ruyzen had grown accustomed to that silence, but not numb to it. He had learned to listen between the sounds—the pauses between steps of the patrolling operatives, the faint shift in the draft when one of Root's seals activated, the measured reports that moved like clockwork from one handler to the next.
But tonight, he noticed something new. A delay. Barely three heartbeats of silence before another operative resumed the cycle. It was enough for him to realize the truth: even Root's surveillance wasn't perfect.
He turned that discovery over in his mind like a precious stone. A net is strong only until you find the first hole. Once you know there's one, you start looking for more.
The Mission Order
The following morning, Team Minato stood before the mission desk. The Third Hokage himself handed over the scroll.
"A border patrol," Hiruzen said evenly, his pipe balanced in one hand. "The forests along the western ridge have seen unusual activity. You will sweep the area, mark potential threats, and report."
Minato accepted the scroll with a bow. Ruyzen stood behind him, Obito shifting impatiently, Rin listening intently, and Kakashi cool as ever.
Ruyzen's eyes, however, caught the faintest flicker: a pair of Root operatives in the shadows of the chamber, unacknowledged yet obviously present. They were assigned to "observe."
Hiruzen's gaze lingered on Ruyzen just a moment longer than necessary before he dismissed the team. That single look told him everything—Hiruzen was watching, calculating. And perhaps, quietly planning.
Under Watch
The patrol began smoothly. Minato led at an even pace, the team spread in a defensive formation.
But Ruyzen felt the weight of shadows at his back. Root operatives flitted through the trees, distant but close enough to intervene at a moment's notice. Their movements were precise, their presence obvious only to someone trained to look for what wasn't supposed to be seen.
So, Ruyzen began his test.
First, he altered his footwork slightly—deliberately stepping a half-beat behind formation. No response.
Next, he slowed his reaction when Obito stumbled over a branch. A Root operative shifted in the distance, but did not act.
Then, when Rin asked a tactical question, Ruyzen answered in clipped, efficient detail. His words weren't the mechanical responses Root had drilled into him; they carried his own phrasing, his own thinking. Again, no immediate consequence.
But he noted everything—the patterns, the moments Root deemed "acceptable" and the ones they did not.
So. The net isn't seamless. There are gaps.
An Unexpected Ambush
It was during the second day of patrol that the ambush came. A ragged group of rogue bandits leapt from the underbrush, weapons raised, desperation etched on their faces. They weren't shinobi, not really—mercenaries at best, survivors of skirmishes who preyed on travelers.
Obito yelped, stumbling back, while Rin instinctively formed a protective stance. Kakashi moved like a blade unsheathed, quick and precise. Minato gave sharp, calm orders, dispersing the attackers in blurs of movement.
Ruyzen, however, moved differently.
He stepped into the space between Obito and a bandit's blade, knocking the strike aside with a fluid motion. He didn't strike back with deadly force—instead, he redirected, tripping the man and letting him fall harmlessly into the dirt.
Another lunged at Rin. Ruyzen intercepted, twisting the bandit's arm just enough to disarm him, then shoved him backward toward Kakashi, who finished the fight with a blunt strike.
To an outside observer, it looked like teamwork. Coincidence, even. But Ruyzen knew he had orchestrated each move deliberately—protecting his teammates without drawing Root's suspicion.
When the last bandit fled into the forest, Minato gave a nod. "Good work, all of you. No unnecessary harm."
Behind them, the Root operatives observed. Silent. Motionless. Recording everything.
But when the reports were filed later, Ruyzen knew what they would say: "Loyalty confirmed. Prioritized comrades. Mission accomplished."
What they would not see was the hidden pattern he had just proven—Root only measured outcomes, not intent.
Hiruzen's Quiet Counter
Far away, in the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi reviewed the incoming reports. But these were not just Root's reports—he had his own ANBU shadows watching the shadows.
The Hokage exhaled smoke, eyes narrowing as he read the discrepancies. Root's official account spoke of perfect obedience. His ANBU described something different—independent decision-making, tactical initiative disguised beneath protocol.
"Danzo," Hiruzen murmured, setting the report aside. "You've leashed the boy, but you haven't broken him. That will be your mistake."
A Private Conversation
That evening, as the squad set camp, Minato quietly approached Ruyzen. The others were gathering wood or setting wards, leaving them a moment of relative privacy.
"You think ahead," Minato said simply, his tone calm but sharp with intent. "Not just about missions. About people. About outcomes others can't see."
Ruyzen's chest tightened. Was Minato calling him out?
But the jonin only placed a hand on his shoulder. "Keep doing that. Even if you think no one notices. It matters."
Then Minato turned back toward the fire, leaving Ruyzen alone with his thoughts.
For the first time in years, Ruyzen felt a faint flicker of warmth. Not control. Not surveillance. Just… trust.
Danzo's Suspicion
In Root's underground chamber, Danzo Shimura sat in silence as reports were read to him.
Metrics. Behavior logs. Psychological responses. Everything pointed to loyalty. And yet—
"Too clean," Danzo muttered. "Too precise."
His single visible eye narrowed. He had lived long enough to recognize when data was shaped.
"The Hokage interferes," he concluded. "And the boy… is adapting faster than expected."
A thin smile ghosted across his lips. "If Sarutobi seeks to free him, then I will tighten the chains. Let us see how far the Hokage is willing to go for one child."
The Blind Spot
The mission concluded on the third day. As the squad returned to Konoha's outskirts, Ruyzen slipped briefly away—only for a moment, only enough to test his theory.
He moved into a narrow ravine, half-hidden by twisting roots and hanging moss.
And for the first time, the ever-present overlay of his Root system flickered:
[Surveillance Intensity: 0% – Blind Zone Detected]
His pulse quickened. He didn't act rashly, didn't run or plot escape. He only stood there, breathing deeply, counting the seconds before the system re-engaged.
When it did, he allowed himself the faintest smile.
"Even nets have holes," he whispered to himself. "All I need… is time."