Chapter Text
“Dismissed.”
Fox saluted Owl and wasted no time leaving the interrogation room. Though it was standard procedure to report to the ANBU Commander after missions, those who returned from solo missions had to report to T&I, and the last few of his debrief sessions were feeling more and more like psych evals.
Then again, maybe the issue wasn’t that he was back from a solo mission so much as he was Hatake Kakashi, the subject of the longest-running bet in the village on when he would snap like his father. It was hard to tell the difference when he was the only active ANBU agent who got dispatched for solo missions—a tidbit of information that Minato-sensei had let slip during their last shouting match.
As thoughts turned to his teacher, Kakashi also changed direction, discarding his original plan of heading to his ANBU barracks for sleep. Kakashi's birthday was just around the corner, and there was no way his jounin teacher would let that slide. Best to grab another mission scroll and head out as soon as possible.
Running missions back-to-back was frowned upon but not forbidden, provided the shinobi in question was cleared for active duty by medic nins. For once, Kakashi had no need to be checked into the hospital given that his most recent mission, a reconnaissance along the southern border shared with Suna, had left him nothing worse than a sunburn.
"Your ANBU registration number please,” The desk shinobi nodded when Kakashi responded in standard Konoha field signs. "ANBU-san, you've already been assigned your next mission. Here is the mission scroll, and please report to Hokage-sama immediately; he will provide full mission parameters."
Kakashi accepted the scroll, trusting that his mask hid his frown. ANBU was very deliberate in who they sent out for what. If his teacher was willing to send him out so soon after Kakashi got back, it had to be something serious.
——
Someone dropped through the southern window into the Hokage office without warning. Minato’s guards flickered into position, flanking Minato instantly, muscles coiled, chakra sharp.
Minato didn’t even look up from the report he was signing. He could have told them who it was. There was only one shinobi in Konoha who had the audacity to use the Hokage’s window instead of the door.
As he reached back to slide the window shut, the intruding ANBU agent’s chakra flared, sharp, silver-white, and unmistakable.
The office pressure shifted instantly. Minato blinked at the whiplash of his guards' heavy killing intent receding; Mouse and Panther responded with their own chakra flare and melted back into the shadows.
"Welcome back," Minato said as he activated the privacy seals. Judging by the state of his ANBU blacks, and Owl's report which was mere minutes ago, his student went to pick up a new mission scroll as soon as he was released from his T&I debrief. Again. "To what do I owe this sudden visit? Mask off, sound on."
Pushing the fox mask up and out of the way as ordered, Kakashi walked up to Minato's desk and slammed down a S-rank mission scroll.
Kakashi curled his thumb and index finger, snapping the same fist from left to right. ANBU sign for why?
"Kakashi," Minato warned. “I said sound on.”
A beat later, "...Why?" Kakashi bit out, his voice rough from disuse.
Minato took in his student, whose first response was to use ANBU handsigns rather than his words. He looked at how Kakashi's uniform hung more loosely than the last time he saw him (four whole months ago), the bruises below Kakashi's eye and absolute lack of chakra signature despite standing in safest place in Konoha. Minato tried for a smile instead, "Character building, of course! I can't go down in history as having been remiss in my duties as your teacher."
"Surely there are faster ways to kill me, sensei."
Internally, Minato smirked at Kakashi's slip up. His student must be truly riled up to forget titles in the Hokage office. Externally, Minato raised an eyebrow.
"I'm insulted that you assume I want it to be quick."
"You want me to baby-sit someone from Internal Affairs. I thought ANBU wasn't allowed near Internal Affairs after that incident twenty years ago.”
Minato winced at that reminder.
“That is a rare instance of unspoken inter-department cooperation rather than actual regulations. Internal Affairs is one of the few departments staffed exclusively with civilians; ANBU was traditionally excluded from reviews because my predecessors determined that ANBU could not be fairly evaluated by civilians, considering the nature of the work." Sensing Kakashi's incredulous look of do you think we babysit rabbits now, Minato added. “This year, however, the department has successfully poached a chuunin from active duty. Once this was brought to my attention, I determined there was no justification in excluding ANBU from review any further.”
“Who—”
“You are forbidden from intimidating or incapacitating the chuunin in any way."
“…Isn’t the Commander better qualified to deal with a chuunin investigator?” Kakashi asked at last, in that deceptively mild way that meant he was actively searching for loopholes. Minato hid a smile. Kakashi picked that habit up from Minato himself.
"How honest of a view will the investigator get if he’s assigned the highest ranking officer in ANBU?" Minato said, “We need a politically unbiased agent.”
“…Do you not know who my jounin sensei is?”
"One of the important factors is that the review is conducted without warning,” Minato continued smoothly, choosing to ignore the point. “Since you’ve been out of Konoha on consecutive missions for the past four months, it was determined that you would be a suitable candidate who is under minimal influence from other agents.”
“Is this punishment?” Kakashi demanded.
“It’s an order,” Minato raised an eyebrow, which wasn’t a denial. “Will you disobey?”
Something almost like hurt flashed across Kakashi’s face, as if he couldn’t believe Minato had asked. Minato saw it and immediately regretted the phrasing. He had not meant it as a test of loyalty. With anyone else, the question would have been rhetorical, but with Kakashi, of course, it cut deeper.
Before Minato could rephrase, his student grumbled, “The mission scroll didn't clarify the time frame of this assignment. When does it begin?"
Minato smiled. This smile came more easily. “Now."
——
This was so very far from the gold and glory that Aburame Touya had been promised when Internal Affairs approached him. He had imagined reports, spreadsheets, and the quiet satisfaction of tracing discrepancies through columns of numbers and exposing corruption with ink instead of blood. It had sounded clean. It was supposed to be structured.
Instead, here he was, in the Hokage’s office about to be thrown into a world of shadows and masks.
To be fair, and Touya forced himself to be fair, Internal Affairs had not orchestrated this. For nearly twenty years, ANBU and Internal Affairs had operated in deliberate, mutual avoidance after that incident and the arrangement had worked.
Until the Fourth Hokage, for some fire-forsaken reason no one in Touya’s department could adequately explain, decided this was the year ANBU would undergo a formal internal review.
A review.
Touya had to supress the urge to laugh when he first heard.
Touga had been chuunin for most of his life now and he understood the reality that this would be a formality, a carefully managed exercise in transparency.
Oversight, in theory, except this was ANBU, the Hokage’s troops who did the unspeakable in the dark at the Hokage’s order and under his authority. They were above any internal review Touya could provide because no audit could meaningfully challenge a sealed directive signed by the Hokage himself.
Still, Touya thought bitterly, the Fourth had given an order and his new division was quick to throw their newly hired chuunin at the mercy of the Hokage. It meant Touya now had a job to do.
“I will not have people accusing me of favoritism towards my own troops,” Touya snapped back to attention at the note of steel in the words. The Fourth, slouching comfortably at the edge of his table, smiled. “An internal affairs investigation of ANBU has been long overdue. Shinobi, you are to conduct a thorough evaluation of the division and give a verbal report to me and the ANBU Commander in two weeks. You have until then to conduct your review and your security clearance has been upgraded to Leaf 2, effective immediately and until the completion of this mission. During your time in ANBU,” Minato nodded to the space left of Touya. “You will be escorted at all times.”
Touya turned—and nearly flinched.
An ANBU operative stood exactly where the Hokage had indicated, directly in Touya’s blind spot.
The agent was slightly shorter than Touya, unexpectedly lean beneath fitted black armor with a white and red porcelain mask. What was most shocking was the agent’s chakra control: the ANBU had his chakra leashed down so tightly that even though Touya was directly looking at him, he couldn’t feel him. It was like staring at an unlit room and being told someone was inside.
“Captain Fox,” The Fourth sounded amused, which meant Touya wasn’t as successful at hiding his flinch as he thought he was. “Will provide you with whatever you need.
“Remember, shinobi,” The Hokage continued, and the warmth drained from his tone entirely. “ANBU values discretion and secrecy above all. Do not attempt to infer the identities of other agents. You are held to the same non-disclosure agreements required from typical ANBU agents, with a failure to comply being punished with execution. Questions?”
This was not what he was promised when Internal Affairs approached him but that was, perhaps, the point. Unlike his civillian coworkers, Touya took the oath as a shinobi of Konoha.
“No, sir,” Touya dropped to one knee. “I am ready to serve.”
The chuunin didn’t see it but the Fourth’s smile was soft. “Good. Dismissed.”
——
“What do you know about ANBU?”
The corridors beneath the Hokage Tower were quieter than the upper floors, the light thinner, filtering through narrow windows set high into stone.
He considered Fox’s question carefully.
Before today, he had seen ANBU only once when he had been barely a teenager. He had been old enough to understand that the war had ended, but not old enough to understand that it did not always end inside a person.
A veteran jonin had snapped during a market day. The man had been decorated, Touya later learned. The jonin had stood in the center of the street with bloodshot eyes and a kunai pressed to a civilian’s throat, shouting at enemies no one else could see.
Two ANBU who had been passing by had responded to the scene before even the Uchiha could arrive. They did not shout or bother to threaten. Instead, they moved.
The jonin had been skilled but it had not mattered. The ANBU had been efficient. One to distract, one to disable. They moved cleanly, without wasted effort, without a word.
Afterward, there had been an eerie stillness and blood, splattered bright against the stones.
Touya had not forgotten that stillness.
He forced the memory aside and looked properly at the agent walking beside him, who walked without making a sound.
Captain Fox wore the standard ANBU uniform: black underlayers fitted close to the body, grey armor plating light enough not to hinder speed. Despite the bone-white mask, he seemed surprisingly young. The leanness of the frame hinted more at the lankiness of a teen still in a growth spurt, yet the efficiency of his movements betrayed decades of training. How old could Fox possibly be if—
Do not attempt to infer the identities of other agents, the Fourth had warned.
Touya shut that train of thought down and met Fox’s masked gaze. It was the unspoken rule in Konoha that you didn’t stare at ANBU, so Touya had to resist his urge to look away.
“What do you know about ANBU?” Fox repeated, patient, level.
“That they’re the most elite,” The chuunin answered first.
It was the safest truth. Even civilian children knew that ANBU selected only the best. Seeing Fox’s impeccable control over his chakra, the reputation felt understated.
“Everything about them is confidential and you have to make jounin to get recruited,” Touya continued. “And ANBU wear designated animal masks until they retire, but,” He hesitated. “The lifespan of active ANBU agents isn’t long.”
“Anything else?” Fox asked.
Touya glanced at the mask. “…That they’re baby-killers.”
He braced himself for a spike of killing intent or maybe a reprimand. Instead, the ANBU tilted his head slightly.
“How do you know all of this?”
Touya blinked.
“You said so yourself,” Fox continued evenly. “Everything related to ANBU is confidential. How do you know those things?”
The chuunin frowned, considering the point. “You hear things. From your friends, who hear things from their team or family. In the training yard, during drinks, stories get passed along.”
“The first lesson about ANBU,” The ANBU said, lifting a hand to rub briefly at his temple, “What you know about ANBU is likely a lie.”
“Everything?”
“Pretty much,” Fox’s hand dropped. “Obviously, it’s true that we wear masks. What’s not true is that we keep the same one throughout our service. Agents are required to rotate masks every three to four missions. The only agents who use the same mask are squad leaders, so their squad can identify their chain of command.”
Touya considered that.
“That implies that ANBU don’t necessarily know each other’s identities.”
“Correct.”
The ANBU gestured for him to follow as the corridor turned. The stone here was older, the air cooler.
“There are mask-on units and mask-off units,” Fox continued. “Some units develop long-term specializations together. When they are formally designated, they usually become mask-off units where masks are worn during missions, but removed during training and internal discussions.
“Other units, particularly newer ones, are mask-on. Squad members know each other’s capabilities and specialties. They do not know names.”
Touya thought of the faceless operatives from his childhood memory. Of the way they had moved in seamless coordination.
“Why the secrecy even within the organization?” He asked quietly.
“To limit damage,” Fox replied. “If one agent is captured, they can’t expose what they don’t know.” The ANBU paused. “This is one of the entrances to HQ.”
They had stopped before an unmarked stretch of wall at the end of a narrow passage of a string of empty offices. To Touya’s eyes, it looked no different from any other foundation stone beneath the Tower—old mortar, faint moss in the seams, the quiet chill of underground air.
“The ANBU headquarters has multiple entrances and exits,” Fox said. “Separate routes are necessary to prevent agents leaving for missions from crossing paths with unmasked agents reporting in. For this reason, you’ll find blanks at each entrance.”
“Blanks?”
“Blank masks. Unpainted masks.” Fox’s hand moved to the wall, and with a soft, mechanical shift, the stone retreated to reveal a row of plain white masks neatly lined in recesses carved into the wall. Each one gleamed faintly in the dim corridor light. “HQ is mask-on and sound-on unless ordered otherwise. Any agent entering must be masked before entry.”
Fox passed a blank mask to Touya.
“Paints,” He added, tapping the red markings slashed across his own fox mask on his face, “Are kept under seal in each agent’s locker which are housed inside the headquarters. Paints can only be used when on active duty and agents are forbidden from returning home in them to prevent identity leaks.”
Touya turned the blank mask over slowly in his hands. The smooth, cold porcelain reflected nothing back but an unbroken, faceless surface.
The weight of it pressed down in a way he had not expected.
Touya had thought he knew more about ANBU than most, at least from the stories filtered through his clan: whispered tales of shadow operatives, lethal efficiency, and ironclad loyalty. But now it struck him that even those stories were probably carefully curated to obscure, to intimidate, to misdirect.
It was like standing at the edge of a pond, confident he could see the bottom, only to realize the water was unfathomably deep and impossibly dark.
“Is it okay to tell me all of this?” Feeling suddenly foolish, Touya looked up. “I was expecting I’d just be looking at records and reports, to be honest.”
“You’ll do whatever your mission parameters requires you to do. My mission requires that I provide you with what you need, and ensure your safety.”
Fox must have seen the brief flicker of alarm, because he continued without pause.
“Your callsign will be Rookie,” Fox said. “Your cover story is that you were recruited by T&I, who have been notified and will maintain the cover. Given your skill level, you won’t pass as an off-season field recruit and trying to do so will only arouse suspicion. Everything I’m telling you is the bare minimum you will need to appear as newly inducted ANBU. If I keep too much from you and you miss something obvious, ANBU may suspect an infiltration and act accordingly.
“ANBU has never had a successful infiltration,” Fox continued dryly. “It’s possible some agents will get too excited in their attempts to subdue you if they think you’re an enemy. Best if we can avoid that all together.”
“‘Sound-on?’” Touya asked weakly, needing something else to focus on.
“Shorthand for ‘verbal communication authorized.’” Fox’s voice remained even. If he noticed Touya’s moment of blind panic, he didn’t show it. “Because of the nature of ANBU operations, missions are by default sound-off. No verbal communication unless explicitly cleared by the highest-ranking agent present.”
Touya thought of the marketplace years ago. The silence of it.
“Standard Konoha signs are meant for emergencies between regular forces,” The ANBU said. “ANBU signs are more extensive and more precise. T&I, by virtue of not usually being on the field, rarely use them so it shouldn’t be a problem that you don’t know them.”
Fox flicked through three handsigns, Horse, Rabbit and Snake, and the unmarked stone before them shifted into a doorway, leading down a dark hall.
“I’ll walk you to the archives,” He said. “They will most likely have what you need. We’ll have to pass through a couple of high-traffic areas to get there, so maintain discretion.”
Touya just had to successfully fool a group of trained assassians without getting caught and killed, find ANBU’s dirty laundry, and report it to the ANBU Commander, who was responsible for ANBU and the Hokage, who commanded them, all while making sure Touya didn’t dig too deep, because this was all a formality anyways.
Easy.
“Mask on,” Fox said.
Touya hesitated only a moment before lifting it into place.
The world narrowed slightly behind porcelain and shadow.
“Stay close,” Fox warned, and stepped into the darkness.
——
Touya took a deep breath and followed him in.