When Yako claid it was only his third ti eting Hatake Sakumo, Yellow Dog gave a faint smile.
"It's not forbidden for ANBU to have friends outside missions.
If you work nonstop, kill on command, and have no outlet… ntal breakdowns co fast.
Even Princess Tsunade gambles to blow off steam.
Among the higher-ups, that kind of thing isn't even noteworthy.
If a shinobi spends every day killing and never relieves the tension, it's only a matter of ti before they snap.
The ANBU who hole up in base month after month, year after year—those are the ones we watch the closest.
They're the ones most likely to go rogue."
Yellow Dog's voice softened slightly.
"I know you visit Tsurugetsu Tavern after missions.
As your unit captain, I encourage that. It's healthy. Better that than going crazy.
But rember—your personal life must never affect your mission. Or your loyalty.
Don't let Hatake Sakumo influence you."
Beneath his mask, cold sweat ford on Yako's brow.
So Yellow Dog had been watching.
He knew all about the tavern visits.
There was no hiding it—every ANBU needed a place to land once off-duty.
If not Tsurugetsu Tavern, then Ganyue Tavern.
It didn't matter how many missions he ran.
ANBU would never truly trust him.
Even if he followed Yellow Dog every day, pledging loyalty every step, it wouldn't be enough.
Not because of anything Yako had done—but because of who he was.
If he had been born into the Sarutobi clan, or one of the Ino-Shika-Cho families, it would've been different.
He would've had their backing. Their trust. Their protection.
Unit captains held imnse power. Control over their squads.
If Yako wanted real freedom, real choice—he'd have to rise. Beco a captain himself.
Only then could he take his fate into his own hands.
—
Inside Sakumo's tent, the commander sat alone.
He greeted Yako the mont he stepped inside.
"Fox, most shinobi guard their inventions jealously.
If you'd clung to the paraglider, it would've stayed yours alone. A secret weapon.
But you offered it up. For the village.
I didn't expect that. I was genuinely surprised.
I'll request two S-rank rewards on your behalf—
One for the successful poisoning mission, and one for the paraglider invention."
Yako's heart stirred.
'Didn't expect that bonus. Not bad.'
He replied:
"I just want this war to end. Too many of my n have died.
I'm tired of it. Tired of seeing new faces under old masks.
There was a ti when my biggest struggle…
was rembering who was who, and what they could do."
Sakumo nodded solemnly.
"ANBU always suffer the highest casualty rates. I feel the sa way.
I want this over too.
That's partly why I asked you here.
Last ti, you suggested we push the Jutsu rit System harder.
It worked.
Many chūnin have now learned jutsu that suit them—B-rank, even A-rank.
Common-use abilities shouldn't be hoarded.
Fox, thank you. For the suggestion. And the paraglider."
Their bond, by Konoha's standards, was deepening. Tangibly.
The success of the Jutsu rit System had earned Sakumo a wave of new supporters—especially among civilian-born shinobi desperate for techniques they'd never otherwise learn.
Yako said quietly, "Lord Sakumo, I serve directly under the Hokage. This is your second ti contacting . I'm afraid… we won't be able to et again."
But Sakumo shook his head.
"That's actually the other reason I called you."
He ford a quick hand seal.
A ring of soundless lightning flared beneath the tent walls—
A Lightning Release barrier, one that blocked detection and eavesdropping.
"Relax," Sakumo said. "No one in camp will hear us now."
Yako let out a breath.
Sakumo was as cautious as ever.
Then his tone turned serious.
"Fox… do you rember Chōta?"
"Chōta?"
Yako thought for a mont.
Chōta was a civilian chūnin, one of Sakumo's followers.
Yako had once run recon on him—
Had even killed a Tokubetsu Jōnin from the Sarutobi clan to save his life.
"I rember him. Experienced. Strong for a chūnin."
Sakumo's gaze tightened.
"Chōta once said he was saved by a mysterious ANBU… I believe that was you.
He was a good man. My friend.
But he died on a mission.
If it was a clean death, I'd mourn and move on.
But sothing's off. He didn't just die—he disappeared. No explanation.
So I have to ask you, Fox…
Do you know anything about how Chōta died?"
Yako's tone cooled.
"Lord Sakumo, I know nothing. And frankly, asking about ANBU missions skirts very close to treason. Is that really appropriate?"
But Sakumo didn't waver.
"I've never misjudged anyone.
You warned Chōta once.
You backed the Jutsu rit System.
You gave up the paraglider.
You're not like the others.
If you weren't ANBU, I think… we'd be close friends.
So if—if—you happen to know anything…
I'm begging you. Please."
Yako paused. Outwardly thoughtful.
Inwardly? Pleased.
Sakumo trusts now.
"I don't know yet. But… I can look into it.
As long as I don't betray my duties, I'll tell you whatever I learn.
But I can't et with you like this again.
Captain Yellow Dog warned . I'm not to keep contact with any one jōnin too often."
Sakumo pulled out a scroll.
"This is the Ninken Summoning Contract."
He held it out, eyes calm.
"This will be our last in-person eting.
From now on, we'll use the ninken to pass ssages.
If you agree, you can sign the contract and link with my Eight Ninja Hounds."
Sakumo believed Yako was like him—
Willing to give everything for the village.
Yako nodded.
"All right."
This was the best outco.
Just like he'd once used scrolls to correspond with Yuka via Longspear Egret,
he could now use ninken to communicate with Sakumo.
He bit his thumb and pressed five blood-marked fingerprints onto the scroll.
Then, weaving hand signs, he perford Summoning Jutsu.
With a puff of smoke—
eight ninken appeared on the ground.
"Huh?" one of them barked.
"No enemies? Then why'd you summon us, Sakumo?"
The lead hound was none other than Pakkun.
But his voice was higher than in the original tiline—still a puppy's tone.
Sakumo turned to him.
"Pakkun, it was Fox who summoned you.
From now on, you'll be our go-between. Deliver hidden scrolls between us. No one else can know."
Pakkun looked at Fox.
'An ANBU, huh?
So the famously dense Hatake Sakumo is finally learning to play politics…
Not bad.'
"Nice to et you," Yako said.
"Likewise, Fox," Pakkun barked.
Yako left with the scroll detailing Chōta's death and returned to his tent.
From that day forward, he and Sakumo would speak only through summoned ssengers.
Once Sakumo considered soone a friend, he trusted them deeply.
Yako, now linked to him, would enjoy that trust—along with the protection it brought.
But he would have to be careful.
If anyone discovered he had a contract with Sakumo's ninken…
The village would label him Sakumo's man in an instant.
Whatever happened to Chōta, Yako would get to the bottom of it.
And when he did—
he would offer it as his pledge of loyalty.
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