Anko's one-bedroom apartnt had unofficially beco Team 5's regular gathering spot.
Neither the grand Uchiha Clan compound nor Roshi's Western Suburbs estate could match its simplicity. The cramped space, the faint scent of instant noodles, and the unspoken sense of ease made it the perfect place for them to unwind.
By unanimous agreent, Roshi had even dipped into the team's public funds to buy everything the apartnt had been lacking—proper utensils, a few cushions, and, at Anko's insistence, a better kettle for tea.
Two days into his newly reinstated vacation, Roshi, as usual, arrived first. He carried a bag of rice flour, a bottle of milk, and a small collection of ingredients—brown sugar, white sugar, honey, roasted peanuts, and sesa seeds.
Usually, they bought their dango ready-made from the village stalls. But that morning, on a whim, Roshi had suggested they try making it themselves.
The mont he ntioned it, Anko's eyes lit up like fireworks.
"Hot water! You've gotta knead rice flour with hot water," she said, pulling out a basin like she was leading a battle.
A few minutes later—
"…You added too much water," Roshi observed, watching the sloshing white paste.
"Then add more flour!" Anko barked back, kneading with all her strength.
After a chaotic series of adjustnts and several muttered curses, they finally managed to produce a proper dough. The two of them rolled it into small, round pieces and dropped them into boiling water.
When the dango began floating to the surface, their excitent was genuine.
Roshi had prepared a variety of toppings—brown sugar syrup, honey, crushed peanuts, and sesa seeds—and soon the tiny table was filled with sweet, steaming bowls.
"Mmm! Ours tastes just as good as the ones from the shop!" Anko said, cheeks puffed with food, eyes narrowing in bliss.
Watching her devour her creation, Roshi couldn't help but smile. "Speaking of which, how's your training going?"
Anko straightened slightly, still chewing. "My speed and strength are both improving, and my snake jutsu have gotten faster and stronger. I've also mastered a few new jutsu—" She trailed off mid-sentence. The brightness in her tone dimd.
"And… there's still that."
Her hand unconsciously rose to the back of her neck.
"The curse mark Orochimaru left on ."
She turned around and pulled down her collar slightly, revealing the faint, black pattern etched against her pale skin.
"He said it was so kind of 'power seed.' But Lord Third sealed it himself."
Her voice softened. "Even so, when I sense Orochimaru nearby—or anything related to him—it still… burns. Faintly."
Roshi's expression didn't change, but his mind was already turning.
The Heaven's Curse Mark—one of Orochimaru's earliest experints, based on Jugo's natural Sage Transformation ability. A prototype version. It lacked the transformation stages seen later, unable to draw out power—but it could sense Orochimaru's presence.
And, more importantly… it was also one of Orochimaru's potential resurrection anchors.
Sothing that would have to be addressed, eventually.
Before he could speak, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Anko, glad for the interruption, hurried to open it.
Standing outside was Itachi, calm as always.
"Sorry, I'm late," he said lightly. His eyes flicked briefly to the table, pausing on the array of freshly made dango.
"You're just in ti!" Anko said cheerfully, grabbing his arm and pulling him in. "Co on, try so—we made them ourselves!"
The three of them sat cross-legged around the low table, sharing tea and sweets. For a while, the room was filled with quiet laughter and the sll of roasted sesa.
Later, as they stepped outside, Roshi and Itachi walked together through the quiet corridor.
"Itachi," Roshi said casually, "the Chunin Exams—they'll be officially announced in about a month and a half, right?"
"Yes, Captain."
Roshi's gaze stayed forward. "Good. Tell Fugaku-san that I'll be waiting for him at the Western Suburbs House. Two mornings from now."
Itachi's pace faltered slightly. "…Understood."
"And the investigation?" Roshi asked.
"All primary targets have been verified."
"Next, start contacting the lower-level mbers of the Military Police. Clerical staff, logistics—the ones people overlook. No need to rush. Take it slow."
"Yes, Captain."
Two days later—Western Suburbs Old House.
For Uchiha Fugaku, it was his first ti stepping into this old mansion—a place that had stood since Konoha's founding.
The mont he entered the inner hall, his gaze fell upon Tsunade, seated at the head of the room, and Roshi beside her.
He imdiately understood.
When Roshi had sent the invitation through Itachi, he hadn't ntioned Tsunade would be there.
The last ti they t, Roshi's words had been polite in tone but cutting in substance. Now, with the Senju Princess present, he expected no less intensity.
"Fugaku," Tsunade greeted first. "It's been a while since I returned to the Village, yet we haven't t."
Fugaku bowed slightly. "Lady Tsunade. It's an honor."
"Alright, enough formalities." Tsunade's tone sharpened. "Let's get to the point. The deaths of Fourth Hokage Minato Namikaze and his wife—how is the Uchiha Clan involved?"
Direct, as always.
Fugaku's expression didn't change, though his eyes flicked briefly to Roshi. So that's how it's going to be.
He t Tsunade's gaze head-on. "It is related," he admitted. "But not by the hands of any Uchiha within Konoha."
He paused deliberately. "To my knowledge, only Uchiha Shisui possesses ocular power strong enough to reach that level. But his whereabouts that night were accounted for."
He left his own involvent unsaid. So truths had to be asured out carefully.
Tsunade's eyes narrowed but softened slightly. He wasn't denying everything—a small but significant sign of sincerity.
"On the night of the Kumogakure envoy incident," she pressed, "did your clan or the Military Police notice anything unusual?"
"Similar to the Nine-Tails' aftermath," Fugaku replied. "I personally checked patrol logs and movents. No suspicious activity."
"Then who do you suspect?"
He hesitated only briefly before answering, "Uchiha Madara."
The na dropped like a stone into still water.
Tsunade's brows drew together. "He was killed by my grandfather at the Valley of the End."
"Before that battle," Fugaku countered, "Madara had already left Konoha for years. There's no proof he didn't leave behind contingencies."
Fugaku didn't worship Madara—quite the opposite. In his mind, Madara's choices had damned the clan for generations. But Madara's influence still lingered like a curse that wouldn't fade.
Tsunade tapped her fingers on the table, deep in thought.
The logic was far-fetched—but with soone like Madara, "impossible" wasn't a word that held weight.
Finally, she nodded. "Whether it's him or not, we'll investigate. If the suspect truly possesses the Sharingan—possibly even advanced ocular techniques—we'll need the Uchiha's cooperation."
Her tone left no room for argunt. "We're assigning Uchiha personnel to Anbu. Four mbers. Directly under the Hokage's command."
Fugaku's eyes flickered slightly. This was no simple order—it was both an opportunity and a leash.
Tsunade continued, "In exchange, the Military Police Force will relinquish one full squad slot."
A long silence followed. Finally, Fugaku inclined his head. "…Understood."
After he left, Tsunade exhaled softly and looked toward Roshi.
"What do you think? About Madara."
Roshi thought for a mont before replying. "Possible. Maybe not him personally—but the ideology he left behind still festers."
He paused. "The Uchiha don't want to destroy Konoha. They want to own it."
Tsunade nodded. That much, she understood.
For all their grievances, the Uchiha had never truly tried to leave Konoha. They wanted legitimacy, not rebellion.
"I just hope this plan of yours works," she said.
"It will," Roshi replied. "Anbu operates in shadows. Constant motion, constant pressure. The Military Police have been idle too long. Give them work—and less ti to dream of power."
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