Chapter 17 Conspiracy
Hiruzen Sarutobi wants to find me?
Uchiha Makoto stared at the masked shinobi and thought of Shisui's identity.
Is this person really an ANBU operative?
A chill of dislike ran through Makoto; the aura this man gave off felt wrong. When Shisui fought Itachi there had been a noble, awe-inspiring air about him — this masked man gave only a cold, repellent indifference.
Makoto's suspicion of the stranger's purpose only hardened. Well, there was a way to find out.
"Lead on."
The masked man wordlessly set off toward his destination.
Makoto didn't tail him on the ground; instead he followed lightly along the rooftops. The route the ANBU took did not lead toward the Hokage's office. It cut close to the entrance of the Uchiha compound — a route that would make sense for an escort, but not for an ordinary summons.
"Hey! The Sandaime's office is the other way!" Makoto called, irritated.
The masked shinobi paused atop a branch and stared at him in silence. Then, without warning, two shuriken flashed from his hands.
Makoto drew back. The ANBU sprang forward. Makoto pulled a kunai from his pouch and met the blade.
Under the dog-shaped mask the operative's eyes flickered with something like surprise. He pushed harder; the short dagger stabbed along Makoto's guard.
"He's only a little stronger than I thought," Makoto judged coldly. "Not a jonin-level display. Maybe a high chunin at best."
If he truly were ANBU, he wouldn't be sent on a trivial arrest mission, and he certainly wouldn't be the sort to perform assassinations openly in the clan district. He couldn't be a jonin — there was no Shisui-level presence in this man.
Using his small stature to his advantage, Makoto darted and weaved, slipping nimbly away from repeated short-blade strikes. The ANBU's surprise grew; the Uchiha clan's reflexes and reflexive Sharingan tactics were notorious.
The assailant's stabbing grew more frantic, as if trying to force an opening.
"Pretending to be ANBU and attacking an Uchiha in the clan district — who sent you?" Makoto demanded between breaths. "Who's behind you?"
Makoto found the whole situation ridiculous. He was clan and village both. Being snatched in Konoha by a masked man? It was both absurd and dangerous. The glorious Hidden Leaf still had its shadowed corners.
He thought fast. Who would send a masked operative like this?
He dismissed the idea that the Hokage would do this personally. Shisui had said once that Hiruzen believed in the Will of Fire; Hiruzen wouldn't order something so underhanded against his own people, not openly. So who then?
Only one conclusion came to him. This man was a puppet of some black hand — a hidden faction pulling strings.
Now he was more than just Shisui's apprentice or an Uchiha prodigy. He had a lead: the killer who struck Shisui might be connected to this masked messenger.
Determination flared in Makoto's scarlet Sharingan. If this was a staged arrest, then he could use it to expose the true face behind the mask.
He relaxed his grip a fraction. When blade met blade the impact left him winded; Makoto was still a child, and even prodigies have limits.
Beneath the mask, the ANBU's mouth curved in a small, eager smile. If only I had orders to kill… His grip tightened.
"Lord's orders…" the masked man muttered under his breath, and his strikes grew more vicious.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
Makoto took two steps back, formed seals, and expelled a powerful ball of flame toward the operative
Madness.
So this is all the Uchiha clan amounts to? Releasing a Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu at point-blank range with such unrefined control.
The roaring flames burst forward, scattering smoke and dust in every direction, the explosion of the Great Fireball kicking up a thick cloud that obscured the battlefield.
"Where?"
Makoto's Sharingan darted from side to side. The chakra signature of the masked ninja was nowhere to be seen within its crimson gaze.
"Don't tell me… he was really burned to death?" Makoto muttered, sliding his hand into his pouch to put away his kunai, ready to turn and walk away.
But the shinobi hidden behind the mask was smiling, his face twisting with excitement. Since joining Root, what thrilled him most was the moment his targets lost their composure. Even if he couldn't kill this child of the Uchiha, humiliating the clan's so-called genius would be satisfying enough.
The instant Makoto turned, the masked ninja appeared before him. A flash of panic crossed the boy's face as the short blade carved a lethal arc toward his throat. His kenjutsu was precise; with this stroke, Uchiha Makoto's life should have ended.
But then the Root agent froze. His body stiffened. A wakizashi had pierced through his stomach.
Makoto's frightened expression melted into chilling calm. Without hesitation, he poured chakra through the blade — chakra that flared with the Uchiha's natural Fire affinity. The invader's body convulsed.
Every shinobi's chakra had a different nature. Forced into another's body, it became poison. What Makoto had inherited from Shisui was more than kenjutsu — it was the ability to burn an enemy from the inside out.
The Root operative gurgled blood, but his lips twisted into one final, venomous whisper: "Lord Danzō was right… the Uchiha… should be erased."
His arm shook, but no strength remained to swing the dagger again. The short blade slipped from his grip as his body collapsed.
Makoto withdrew his crow-feather wakizashi. At some point, its form elongated, transforming into a long katana. A whisper stirred in his mind, carried by the strange artifact: Ame-no-Murakumo, the Heavenly Cloud Sword.
He sensed his mysterious "system" changing, but there was no time to dwell on it.
"Boom." Two shadow clones appeared beside him.
"You," Makoto ordered, pointing at the first, "transform into this corpse and play the role of the fallen Root operative."
"You," he told the second, "act as though you were defeated and bound."
Sliding the crow-feather blade back into its sealing scroll, Makoto kept his voice level, calm.
"Alright, boss!" said Clone No. 1, eyes blazing with energy, almost too enthusiastic. Somehow, his hot-blooded spirit reminded Makoto of Might Guy's student, Rock Lee. The clone picked up the fallen dagger and transformed into the masked assassin.
"Tch…" Clone No. 2 scratched the back of his head, sighing. "Always so troublesome. Let's just hope this works."
Makoto hefted the corpse onto his shoulder and moved away swiftly. He needed to dispose of the body before the real conspirators closed in.
His chakra was nearly spent, and he couldn't help but feel the hollow ache of powerlessness. A tailed beast's chakra would have been useful now…
After I clean this up, I'll tell Shisui everything. Even if the clones are discovered, as long as I uncover the truth, I'll have a way to change Shisui's fate.
Not long after he disappeared, another figure landed silently on a treetop. This one wore a Root mask etched with strange patterns. His voice was sharp, commanding:
"You've kept Danzō-sama waiting long enough. Bring the boy at once."
This was the second chakra presence Makoto had sensed earlier with his Sharingan.
Everything was unfolding according to plan.
Now… let me see the true face of the hand that murdered Shisui.