Chapter 45: White Fang and the World Below
Shinra looked down at the headless corpse at his feet, his expression unmoved. That was the nature of this world. Natural selection. Survival of the fittest. If he weren't strong enough, it would be his own body lying there now. He felt not a shred of guilt.
He grabbed Miyamura Ichiro's corpse by the collar like a sack of garbage, dug a shallow pit with a few casual stomps that cratered the earth, and dumped it in. He covered it over, erasing the immediate evidence. The forest would handle the rest.
Seeing how late it had gotten, Shinra abandoned further training for the night and headed home.
Early the next morning, he was back at his training ground by the creek, pushing his limits as usual.
He was mid-movement when a figure materialized in front of him—without a sound, without a ripple in the air, without any warning whatsoever. Even his heightened Observation Haki hadn't detected an approach.
"Yo, kid. You're quite the hard worker."
The voice was casual, tinged with amusement. Shinra's focus snapped to the newcomer.
The man had striking silver-white hair, worn in a handsome ponytail, with a shorter-than-standard tantō strapped to his back. Even sheathed, Shinra could sense the lethal sharpness of the blade. Most conspicuous, however, was the Hokage's half-sleeved ceremonial robe worn over his left arm—a symbol of his direct authority.
Despite it being their first meeting, Shinra recognized him instantly.
Konoha's White Fang.
Hatake Sakumo.
A legendary shinobi whose fame was said to eclipse even the Sannin, a man comparable to the demigods of other villages. Yet, also a figure fated for a profoundly tragic end.
"Senpai," Shinra said, his expression shifting to one of genuine respect as he offered a slight bow.
Regardless of what others might think, Shinra held deep respect for the White Fang. A man who chose to save his comrades over completing a mission, only to be vilified by the very village he served—even scorned by those he saved. A peerless genius, ultimately hounded to take his own life. Behind that tragedy lay not just the fickleness of human nature, but also the machinations of power and shadowy hands pulling strings. In the end, Konoha's White Fang was a casualty of high-level political struggle.
"No need for formalities," Sakumo said, his eyes scanning Shinra's sweat-drenched form with clear appreciation. Incredible talent, yet he trains with this level of dedication. His mind is calm, his will firm, without a trace of arrogance. This boy will go far.
He made another high assessment in his mind.
"Alright, come on. I'm taking you to the Anbu headquarters to report today."
With that, Sakumo vanished. Shinra didn't hesitate, channeling chakra to his feet and following the faint disturbance left in the air.
They traveled swiftly, soon leaving the village proper behind. Sakumo led him to a hidden entrance disguised as a rock formation, and they descended into Konoha's underground world.
The Anbu headquarters existed deep beneath the village. Shinra estimated they were almost directly below the Hokage Tower itself.
The contrast with the world above was stark. The moment they stepped into the subterranean complex, the light grew dim, filtered through faintly glowing moss and sparse lanterns. A damp, chilly wind whispered through stone corridors, raising goosebumps. The atmosphere was one of utter silence, secrecy, and oppressive solemnity.
Everywhere, figures moved—all clad in the standard gray trench coats and animal masks of the Anbu. They went about their business with silent, grim efficiency. Not a word was spoken. A palpable aura of killing intent, honed on real battlefields, hung in the cold air, making it hard to breathe.
Shinra understood. Every person here was, at minimum, a seasoned Konoha jounin. They were elites truly tempered in blood and fire. This was Konoha's hidden blade.
Well, aside from those who were just plain monsters.
"Right. Head over to that desk to report and get your uniform. Someone will give you a brief orientation."
Sakumo pointed toward a recessed alcove with a single masked operative behind a stone desk, then disappeared once more. Clearly, the Anbu Commander was a busy man.
Getting a personal escort from the boss on the first day… I guess that's a first, Shinra thought with an internal wry smile. He straightened and walked to the reporting station.
"Shinobi Shinra, reporting for duty."
That was correct. He had officially graduated. On the way, Hatake Sakumo had given him his forehead protector, the symbol of a Konoha ninja. Shinra stated his business without fanfare.
The masked clerk behind the desk glanced up. Though his expression was hidden, Shinra clearly felt a jolt of surprise from the man. His arrival had clearly been unexpected.
Surprised or not, the clerk recovered instantly. He wordlessly pushed a cat-faced mask and a folded gray trench coat across the stone surface, then returned to his paperwork.
A moment later, another Anbu operative materialized soundlessly beside Shinra.
"Follow."
Shinra almost smiled. The Anbu's communication style was brutally efficient. He could appreciate that; it left little room for error.
"This is the mission assignment and debriefing station. Select tasks appropriate to your assessed rank. Completion generally yields monetary and resource rewards."
"This is the custom weapons forge. Convey your requirements to the smiths. They will endeavor to craft a suitable weapon for you at no personal cost."
"This is the archives. It houses scrolls on ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu. Access is permitted for study."
The guide led him on a swift tour, offering terse explanations at each location. Finally, they arrived at a large, open space—a training ground, carved from the bedrock itself.
And there, waiting for them in the center of the cavernous room, was Hatake Sakumo once more.
(End of Chapter)
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