Chapter Text
Four ANBU shinobi crept through the dense forests of the Konoha-Kiri borderlands. Their leader, a silver-haired man whose porcelain mask evoked the image of a canine, flashed a few quick hand signals to the men behind him. Target spotted. Approach with caution.
They moved forward more carefully now, all of them grateful for the rain that masked their scents and softened the sticks and leaves so they made no sound under their feet. Even Hound, whose senses were naturally enhanced as part of his lifetime contract with a pack of ninken, hardly noticed the presence of the three soldiers at his back.
It wasn't two full minutes before they reached the edge of the treeline. There, a hundred yards out, a squad of Kiri shinobi had set up camp. So bold, to stop this close to Konoha territory, the Captain thought.
There was the faintest flicker of chakra as one of his teammates drew even with him. It was deliberate, Hound knew, an effort not to startle him when he broke their loose formation. He glanced down at the smaller man—a boy, really, only twelve years old. A boy, but certainly not a child. Crow had earned his place among them, and he proved it again as his left hand formed the sign for Trap. Hound smiled behind his mask and nodded. Your call, he signed. Your eyes.
He could only just see the faint crimson glow through the eye slits in his teammate's mask, but the Sharingan was unmistakable. He had one of his own, but even after all this time, he wasn't truly proficient in its use. Crow would unravel any genjutsu defenses much more quickly, and he would expend less energy doing it.
There was a second flare of chakra and another of his men appeared beside him, eyeing the camp with obvious impatience. Move in? Viper signed, his free hand absently twirling a pair of senbon.
Hound shook his head and took a step back so Crow was ahead of him. It signaled that the boy was in command. Viper cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy, making an unofficial, but common hand sign that could be roughly translated as Shodai's balls, have you lost your goddamn mind? But then, he was newly assigned to their squad, and he had never seen their youngest soldier in action. Hound, however, had witnessed the boy's abilities firsthand many times, and he had no qualms about giving him the reins. Crow would make Captain within the next three years, guaranteed. Maybe sooner if ANBU lived up to its creed of judging members without regard for age, rank, or ancestry.
Crow raised his hand and flashed a series of precise signals. Hound right. Bear and Viper left. Crow on point. Five targets positioned thirty-two yards ahead, seventy yards closer than illusion. Primary target is mine. Will disable genjutsu before engaging. Hound stepped behind Crow and took up his position to the right while Viper slipped back to allow Bear, the oldest and tallest of their squad, to come forward on Crow's left.
Crow held up three fingers. Then two. Then one. Then the attack began.
True to his word, the genjutsu shattered a quarter of a second before Crow vanished into a shunshin, his ninjato blurring as he drew it from the sheath at his back. The camp in the distance winked out and reappeared in front of them, seemingly out of thin air. Five Kiri shinobi leapt up from their positions around a small fire in alarm. Only one made it to his feet alive, and only because Crow had his blade at the man's neck, a thin line of scarlet beading against the steel.
It was Hound who spoke, a standing agreement between himself and Crow; a voice that sometimes cracked with the onset of puberty held no threat, even if his hands were deadly. "Well, look what we found, boys. If it isn't Sato Raiden, the little rat in the crawlspace that leaked the plans for the assassination of the Yondaime Mizukage. Fancy meeting you here."
A low sound came from Bear's chest, and Hound's blood ran cold as he realized that this target was not going to make it to the planned public execution. Bear was on the fast track to become head of Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Force, and he had no patience for certain crimes. After all, the mission parameters didn't technically specify whether capture or kill was the preferable outcome.
Crow also seemed to feel the shift in the atmosphere, and his blade caught the firelight as he adjusted his grip. He brought it down in one quick motion, sidestepping the deluge of blood from Raiden's throat. With his back to his team, he flicked the weapon out to the side and slid it home into its sheath.
Bear took a furious step toward him, but Hound put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. In a way, he agreed with Crow's decision to give the man a clean death. The things Bear could do...it was sickening to imagine, even if it was more than deserved for prolonging another needless conflict and leading to hundreds more lives lost.
He remembered then that Crow had seen Bear's "work" on the Kusa border not a full month ago. He wouldn't have to imagine it. He'd been there for it. Helped him do it.
Viper grumbled something about disappointment and wasted effort, the first words any of Hound's teammates had spoken since what passed for dawn in the mists of the East, but he fell silent when Crow turned toward him. Hound shouldn't know the expression that mask concealed, he shouldn't know the fury that shone in the boy's hidden eyes, but he did. They were his own, if he allowed himself to feel them. For Viper to claim to be so callously annoyed that a man hadn't died screaming was disgusting. Or it would have been if it were how the man truly felt. ANBU taught one to bury the horror that came with such a life deep in the darkest recesses of one's mind, and every soldier had his own way of coping.
Crow took a step back and bowed his head, signalling that he relinquished command of the mission back to Hound now that his part was done. He watched dispassionately as Bear finished severing Raiden's head from his shoulders and sealed the gruesome trophy into a scroll as proof that the kill was made.
The journey back to Konoha was subdued, though it lacked the sharp focus of the trek eastward. Bear's quiet anger, Viper's post-mission litany of complaints, and Crow's aloof silence were nothing new.
What was new was Hound's discomfort. Did Crow seem more withdrawn than usual? He had deliberately taken the rear position for the return trip, rather than his customary place behind his Captain where his doujutsu could be of use to scout ahead. When they stopped to rest, the young shinobi kept his distance from his teammates, and Hound noted the way his long, slender fingers would brush his unlatched kunai holster for reassurance, then jerk away as if the worn leather had burned him. The third time this happened, Crow realized he was being observed and let his hand fall to his side. It stayed there, relaxed and loose, with no tension or trembling to give away his earlier behavior. A perfect example of shinobi discipline.
Hound wasn't fooled. He approached the younger boy cautiously, staying in his line of sight. Crow leaned slightly away from the invasion of his space, but he stayed where he was, and Hound saw a very slight tensing of his shoulders before the boy spoke.
"Please forgive my rash behavior this morning, Hound-taichou." His quiet voice was pitched to carry over to where Bear sat without making it obvious that this was his intent. Hound noted that he had not apologized for the decision he had made or admitted any wrongdoing, only asked that his Captain forgive him. At most, he would concede that he had acted without giving full consideration to the consequences, but then he would fall back on the fact that he had been within his rights to kill the man, and no harm had come to Konoha or his comrades because of it. In fact, their target was an infamous S-rank nukenin, lethal by any standard and that much more so when cornered; by ending it quickly, he may have actually saved their lives.
Hound sighed. Political maneuvering came as naturally as breathing to Crow. Anonymity was at the core of ANBU, but as often as not, an agent's identity on the other side of the mask was known to at least some of his comrades. Hound knew more about Crow than he did most of his fellow soldiers. He knew the boy's name, Itachi. He knew that he was the celebrated prodigy of the Uchiha and the heir to his clan. He had even met the boy's parents on more than one occasion thanks to his association with another shinobi of their bloodline not so long ago.
"Nothing to forgive. You had command, you made a call."
Crow bowed his head in acceptance, a gesture that could be interpreted as guilt, or perhaps regret if Bear wanted to be charitable. Hound knew it was nothing of the sort. It was hardly a crime to save a man from being tortured for no other purpose than retribution.
"I should have made the same choice," Hound said under his breath. "Thank you."