The moon hung high over Konoha, casting silver streaks across the rooftops as the village settled into the quiet hush of night. Most shinobi were home, resting for the missions ahead, but for Kakashi, the real work was just beginning.

In his dimly lit apartment, Kakashi adjusted the straps of his ANBU gear, ensuring everything was in place. His regular uniform wouldn’t do for this mission—he needed to blend in, to move like a ghost in the underbelly of Konoha. His fingers brushed over his mask before he pulled it up, covering the lower half of his face. Old habits.

His mind was calm, but Minato’s words lingered. Don’t lose yourself in this.

Kakashi exhaled softly, shaking off the weight of it. He had a job to do.

Silently, he grabbed his weapons pouch, securing kunai and wire along his belt before disappearing into the night.

---

As he landed at the designated meeting spot just outside the village’s inner perimeter, he wasn’t alone.

Anko Mitarashi was already there, leaning against a tree with the ease of someone completely unbothered by the weight of the mission ahead. The moon caught the gleam of her eyes as she smirked at him. Like him, she was dressed for the mission—ANBU-issued gear, dark and fitted, designed for stealth and efficiency. The only real difference was that her hair, usually wild and free, was tied back tightly, keeping it out of her face. Even with her usual snake-like grin, she looked sharper in the uniform—like a blade waiting to cut.

"Well, well," she drawled, crossing her arms. "Look who finally showed up. Thought maybe you got lost in one of your pervy little books."

Kakashi gave a lazy wave. "Didn’t realize we were on a schedule."

Anko snorted. "You’re lucky I’m in a great mood, or I’d feed you to my snakes for making me wait."

Kakashi merely tilted his head. "You sure they’d find me tasty?"

"Mm. Maybe not. You’re probably all skin and angst under that mask."

Kakashi huffed a quiet laugh. If nothing else, working with Anko promised to be entertaining.

Her smirk faded slightly as she straightened. "You get all the details from the Hokage?"

Kakashi nodded. "Infiltration, intelligence gathering, and if necessary… complete dismantling." His voice was calm, but the underlying meaning was clear.

Anko cracked her knuckles. "Personally, I hope it’s necessary. " I've been dying for a good excuse to dig into Danzo’s operations. This whole ‘emotionless soldier’ nonsense? Makes my skin crawl."

Kakashi glanced at her. He knew Anko had her own demons, her own past ties to the dark side of Konoha’s leadership. This mission was personal for her in ways she hadn’t fully voiced—but she didn’t need to. He understood.

Kakashi gave a noncommittal hum, adjusting his gear. "We should assume Danzo already expects interference. He’s never been careless."

"Which means he’s got rats everywhere." Anko’s smirk sharpened. "Good thing I like exterminating pests."

Kakashi eyed her for a moment before nodding. "Let’s move."

Together, they vanished into the night, their forms blurring into the shadows, silent as the ghosts they were trained to be.

The village outskirts grew darker as Kakashi and Anko moved in near-perfect silence, their steps ghost-like against the forest floor. They traveled without speaking, their years of training allowing them to read each other’s movements with little more than a glance.

As they neared their target, Kakashi signaled for them to stop, pressing his back against a tree. Anko mirrored him, crouching slightly, her sharp eyes scanning the area.

A single underground entrance lay ahead—a seemingly abandoned storage shed, half-covered in overgrown foliage. To any ordinary passerby, it was nothing more than an old supply station from Konoha’s early days. But Kakashi had seen enough ANBU reports to know better.

"That’s it?" Anko whispered, barely moving her lips. "Kind of unimpressive for Danzo’s secret lair."

Kakashi’s Sharingan flickered. "That’s just the door. The real entrance is likely beneath it." He gestured subtly toward the faint chakra signatures he could sense inside—faint, but precise.

"Guard count?" Anko murmured.

"Three at the entrance. At least two more deeper in," Kakashi muttered. "Possibly more on a hidden floor."

Anko grinned, stretching her fingers. "Good. I was worried this would be too easy."

Kakashi shot her a side glance. "We’re infiltrating, not declaring war."

"Sure, sure," Anko whispered, already reaching for a kunai. "I’ll keep it subtle."

Kakashi sighed inwardly but didn’t argue. They had a mission, and time wasn’t on their side. He flicked his fingers, signaling the approach. Anko’s smirk widened before she moved, a shadow among shadows, vanishing into the night.

Kakashi followed, silent as death itself.

---

They struck fast and without a sound.

The first guard never saw Anko coming. One moment, he was standing outside the shed, his stance relaxed, the next—a dark blur shot toward him from the shadows.

Before he could react, a scaled, sinuous shape slithered around his torso, coiling tight in an instant. His breath hitched as cold fangs pressed against the side of his neck.

"Paralyzing Fang Technique," Anko whispered against his ear, her voice dripping with amusement.

The guard stiffened, eyes going wide as a faint hiss escaped the snake constricting him. A moment later, his body slumped, his limbs going completely limp. The venom worked fast—not lethal, but enough to knock him out for hours.

Anko uncoiled the serpent from his body, letting the unconscious man drop soundlessly to the ground. With a flick of her wrist, the snake slithered back up her arm and disappeared beneath her sleeve

Kakashi gave her a sidelong glance as he adjusted his gloves. "Subtle," he murmured dryly.

Anko smirked, flexing her fingers. "Hey, I kept it quiet, didn’t I?"

Kakashi sighed but didn’t argue. The job was done.

With the perimeter cleared, they turned their focus to the shed. Kakashi crouched near the entrance, running his gloved hands along the wooden panels. His fingers stopped when he detected the smallest dip in the woodwork—almost invisible to the naked eye.

"There," he murmured. "Hidden latch."

Anko crouched beside him, watching curiously as he pressed down on the panel. With a faint click, the floor beneath them shifted slightly. Kakashi moved back as Anko gripped the panel, lifting it to reveal a dark, narrow passage leading underground. A faint, musty air drifted up from below, laced with the unmistakable scent of damp stone and something else—something metallic.

Anko wrinkled her nose. "Blood."

Kakashi’s jaw tensed. "Not fresh. But recent."

The weight of what they might find below settled between them. This wasn’t just an intelligence mission anymore—it was confirmation of something they both already knew.

Danzo had never stopped.

Anko exhaled slowly, gripping her kunai tighter. "Let’s go."

Without another word, they descended into the darkness.

The air grew colder as they moved deeper into the underground passage. The stone walls were damp, the scent of mildew mixing with the faint, metallic tang of old blood. Their footsteps were nearly soundless, the only audible noise the occasional drip of water from the ceiling.

Kakashi led the way, his Sharingan scanning ahead for any movement, while Anko kept her senses sharp, fingers twitching slightly as she resisted the urge to summon another snake.

They descended further until the passage opened into a wider tunnel system—narrow corridors branching off into unseen depths. The dim glow of lanterns flickered along the stone walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to move on their own.

Anko muttered under her breath. "Creepy as hell."

Kakashi motioned for her to keep her voice down. "Danzo’s paranoia means there’s always more guards. Be ready."

Anko scoffed but nodded, her grip on her kunai tightening as they pressed forward.

The first set of doors they encountered were locked—heavy steel, reinforced with chakra seals. Not surprising. Danzo wouldn’t make infiltration easy.

Kakashi knelt beside the lock, tracing his fingers over the seal. His eye narrowed. "Complex barrier jutsu. Not something I can break quickly."

Anko smirked. "Good thing I like breaking things."

Without waiting for approval, she raised her hand, summoning a small, white serpent that slithered out from beneath her sleeve. It wrapped around her arm, its tongue flickering as it studied the seal.

With a whispered command, the snake extended its fangs and sank them into the chakra-infused metal. There was a soft hiss, followed by a slow unraveling of the seal’s markings. The glow of the jutsu flickered, then snapped out of existence.

The lock clicked open.

Kakashi gave her an impressed glance. "Handy."

Anko smirked. "I have my talents."

Pushing the door open, they stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, filled with rows of crates, scrolls, and scattered reports. A storage archive. Not their main target, but a valuable source of intelligence.

Kakashi immediately began scanning the documents. "Look for anything on Root’s recruitment or training."

Anko was already rifling through a stack of scrolls. "So far, just inventory records. Weapons, supplies… and a lot of unaccounted mission logs."

Kakashi’s hand stilled as he picked up a file with Danzo’s personal seal. He flipped it open and skimmed the contents, his expression darkening.

"What is it?" Anko asked, glancing over.

Kakashi turned the document so she could see.

List of recruits. Names. Ages. Status: Active, Deceased, Eliminated.

The majority of the names under the "Eliminated" category were marked with a single phrase: Training Protocol Failure.

Anko’s smirk faded. "Bastard."

Kakashi placed the file in his pack. "We need more than lists. We need proof of what he’s doing now."

Anko nodded. "Then we go deeper."

Securing what they could, they moved back into the tunnels, their pace quicker now.

Then—

Voices.

Kakashi held up a hand, signaling for silence.

Anko pressed herself against the cold stone wall, barely daring to breathe as the voices drifted down the corridor. Kakashi was beside her, his expression unreadable, but she could sense the tension in his posture.

"Did you hear about the latest experiment? Lord Danzo oversaw it personally."

A low hum of confirmation followed. "Yeah, the one with the two younger ones?"

"That’s the one. A two-year-old and an older kid—supposed to be happening tonight."

There was a pause before the second voice spoke again, laced with confusion. "What’s even the point of that? The older one would kill the baby instantly."

"That’s not the goal," the first voice explained, almost casually. "The idea is to push them until one of them breaks—physically or emotionally. Danzo wants a perfect killer, one that can shut out all hesitation and attachment… blend into normal life if needed but execute orders without question."

"So… a child sleeper agent."

"Exactly."

Anko’s nails dug into her palm. Kakashi remained still, listening as the voices gradually faded, the footsteps echoing down the hall before disappearing into the distance.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Anko exhaled through her nose, tightly controlled rage rolling off her in waves. "That sick son of a—"

Kakashi’s voice was low but firm. "Not now."

Her jaw clenched, but she understood. Now wasn’t the time to let anger dictate their actions.

But later?

Later, Danzo was going to pay.

Kakashi’s gaze flickered toward the direction of the voices, his expression unreadable but his stance tense. "We need to move. If this is happening tonight, we don’t have much time."

Anko clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. "Then let’s go. We’re not letting this happen."

She turned to slip into the shadows, but Kakashi caught her wrist, his grip firm but not forceful.

"We’ll try," he said evenly, his voice measured. "Assuming we’re not too late." He met her sharp gaze, unflinching. "But don’t forget why we’re here, Anko. Our mission is intelligence gathering. If we act too soon, we lose everything—including any chance to stop this for good."

Anko’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t argue. She knew Kakashi was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

With a frustrated exhale, she yanked her wrist free. "Fine. But if we do have a chance to save them, I’m taking it."

Kakashi didn’t respond, but his silence wasn’t disagreement. Instead, he nodded once before vanishing into the shadows, Anko following right behind him.

The underground corridors stretched before them, dark and silent, save for the occasional flicker of dim torchlight. The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt—stifling, oppressive, like the walls themselves were swallowing any trace of warmth.

Anko kept close behind Kakashi, her senses on high alert. Every step they took was measured, precise—years of ANBU training ensuring their movements were undetectable.

They weren’t here to make noise.

They were here to hunt.

Kakashi suddenly raised a hand, signaling her to stop. She froze instantly, following his gaze toward a branching hallway.

The sound of footsteps.

Low voices murmuring.

Kakashi’s Sharingan flickered, scanning their movements with quiet precision. The children marched forward in perfect, mechanical unison, their steps eerily synchronized. No hesitation. No wasted movements. Every stride, every breath, felt calculated. Programmed.

But not all of them had been fully broken.

Kakashi’s gaze settled on the outliers—the ones whose hands trembled just slightly, whose eyes flickered with something almost resembling human fear. They were teetering, some balancing on the knife’s edge of obedience and collapse, others already lost in the abyss of whatever horrors had brought them here.

Beside him, Anko was deathly still, but he could feel her tension, the silent rage curling beneath the surface.

She had seen this before.

She had lived this before.

Kakashi exhaled slowly, the breath barely audible in the suffocating silence of the underground corridor. His fingers twitched before stilling at his sides, his gaze shifting to Anko.

"You see it, don’t you?" he murmured.

Anko’s eyes flickered between the children, her usual smirk absent. "Yeah… some of them are on the edge."

Kakashi didn’t look away. His voice remained steady, but there was an edge to it. "They won’t be useful to Root like this. If they’re breaking now…"

Anko’s sharp inhale was all the confirmation he needed.

Danzo wouldn’t waste resources on children who couldn’t be molded into weapons. They’d be disposed of.

Anko clenched her fists. "Bastard."

Kakashi’s gaze didn’t waver. "We move now. Fast. Quiet."

Anko rolled her shoulders, tension radiating off of her. "Good. I was getting sick of watching."

With silent understanding, they slipped deeper into the shadows, ready to strike before those kids could disappear forever.

Moving as one, Kakashi and Anko melded into the darkness, their presence barely a whisper against the stone walls. The Root operatives continued leading the children deeper into the compound, unaware of the silent predators stalking them from the shadows.

Kakashi’s sharp gaze tracked their path, assessing every movement, every possible point of weakness. The children were being led toward a heavily secured door at the end of the corridor—reinforced steel, a single entry point, no immediate guards in sight. A containment room. His stomach twisted at the implications.

Anko nudged him lightly, barely a flicker of motion. “We take the guards first,” she murmured, her voice like silk in the dark. “Silent. Quick.”

Kakashi gave a barely perceptible nod. Then, in unison, they struck.

Anko moved first, her snakes slipping from beneath her sleeves like living shadows. They slithered toward the first operative, coiling around his neck and arms in an instant. Before he could react, a sharp pulse of chakra flowed through the snake’s fangs, sending him crumpling to the floor without a sound.

The second operative barely had time to process what had happened before Kakashi appeared behind him, his hand moving with practiced efficiency. A single, precise strike to the back of the neck, and the man dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

The children, wide-eyed and unmoving, didn’t react. Some were too numb to process what had just happened, while others merely looked between the unconscious guards and their unexpected saviors in silent confusion.

Anko knelt in front of the nearest child, a small boy no older than four, his thin frame trembling despite his blank expression. “Hey, kid,” she whispered, her tone softer than usual. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The boy didn’t respond. His unfocused eyes flickered between her and Kakashi, his psyche so shot due to his procedure he seemed unaware to the world.

"These kids, they're practically shells, hiw are we gonna get them out of here without getting caught? " Anko turned to Kakashi.

Kakashi looked to all the kids, his sharigan eyes flared to life.

" Anko, I'm about to use a ability I've never shown anyone before, don't tell anyone. "
Kakashi turned to ghe kids and right in front of a swirling vortex like distortion appeared out of thin-air that  sucked the kids in.

" Hey what are you doing? " Anko exclaimed silently.

" It's a ability called Kamui, I'm still trying to learn more about it but I essentially put the kids in a subspace word, a pocket dimension."

Anko crouched in front of the nearest child, a boy no older than four, his frail frame trembling despite the eerie blankness in his eyes. She kept her voice low, gentle—uncharacteristically so.

“Hey, kid,” she whispered. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The boy didn’t react. His unfocused gaze flickered between her and Kakashi, but there was no real recognition, no understanding.

His mind was shattered.

Anko clenched her jaw. This wasn’t just conditioning—whatever Danzo had done to these kids had stripped them of something fundamental. Some of them weren’t even here anymore.

"These kids… they're gone, Kakashi. Shells of what they used to be. How the hell are we supposed to get them out without getting caught?" Her voice was low, but there was a frustrated edge to it.

Kakashi studied the group for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then his Sharingan flared to life, its crimson glow cutting through the darkness.

"Anko," he murmured, his voice steady but firm. "I’m about to use an ability I’ve never shown anyone before. Don't tell anyone."

Before she could ask, space itself warped in front of him.

A swirling distortion formed in the air, like a ripple through reality itself. The very fabric of the world twisted and pulled as an unseen force dragged the children inside. One by one, they disappeared into the void—silent, weightless, erased from existence in mere seconds.

Anko’s breath hitched as she instinctively reached for a kunai—then realized there was no attack, no external force.

“What the hell—” she whispered sharply, whipping her head toward Kakashi.

"It’s called Kamui,” he explained, his voice still calm, though his eye flickered with strain. “I’m still learning its limits, but it lets me send things into a separate space—a pocket dimension.”

Anko stared at the now-empty corridor, then back at Kakashi. “You’re telling me you just warped an entire group of kids into some alternate world you barely understand?”

“They’re safe,” Kakashi assured her. “No one can reach them there. And when we’re out of here, I’ll bring them back.”

Anko exhaled, rubbing her forehead. “Next time, warn me before you start bending space and time, Hatake.”

Kakashi gave a faint smirk, but his focus had already shifted. The children were secure, but their mission wasn’t over.

As they neared the heavy steel door, Kakashi and Anko slowed, their sharp eyes scanning every inch of its surface. There were no visible traps, no immediate resistance—but that only made the unease settle deeper in their bones.

Kakashi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s been too quiet. This was too easy.” His gaze flickered toward the surrounding walls, searching for anything—anyone. “I have no doubt Danzo knows we’re here.”

Anko scoffed, but there was no humor in it. “Or maybe we’re just that damn good. Ever think of that?”

As if in direct response, the massive door hissed, its mechanisms unlocking with eerie precision. A low creak followed as it slowly swung open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.

Then—

"A voice, cold and unwavering, drifted through the dim corridor.

"Come in. I know you’re there."

Danzo’s voice.

It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation.

Anko’s smirk faded instantly.

"Well, there’s your confirmation," Kakashi murmured, his muscles coiled and ready. "Stay on guard."

Kakashi and Anko stepped cautiously through the doorway, their senses heightened, expecting an immediate confrontation. But the room was empty—no guards, no children, no Danzo.

Only a dimly lit space with a large monitor affixed to the far wall.

The screen flickered to life, static crackling before stabilizing to reveal Danzo himself, sitting calmly behind a desk in some undisclosed location. His expression was unreadable, but his single visible eye held its usual cold calculation.

"I must commend you both," Danzo’s voice echoed through the chamber, smooth and composed. "You made it much further than I anticipated. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The Hokage always did have a soft spot for idealists."

Anko’s fingers twitched at her side, her breath controlled but sharp. “Tch. If you’re so impressed, why don’t you show your face, old man?”

Danzo ignored the remark. His gaze remained impassive, as if speaking to mere pawns rather than elite operatives. "You came for information. Perhaps even for justice. But let me teach you something, as someone who has been protecting this village far longer than you’ve drawn breath."

Kakashi’s jaw clenched slightly. He had heard that same justification from Root operatives before—Danzo’s self-righteous belief that the ends always justified the means.

"Strength does not come from mercy. It does not come from sentimentality." Danzo’s voice remained even. "It is forged through sacrifice. Through breaking something down so that it may be rebuilt stronger than before. It is through suffering that true shinobi are created."

The screen flickered, and the camera view shifted.

Kakashi and Anko’s blood ran cold.

The display revealed a dimly lit room, clinical and devoid of warmth.

In the center, a small child—no older than two—stood motionless, his tiny body covered in crimson. His wide, tear-filled eyes were empty, locked in a distant stare that seemed to reach through the screen itself. Blood trickled down his chin, his trembling hands still wrapped around the hilt of a kunai that had been driven straight through the chest of an older boy slumped lifelessly in front of him.

The older boy had collapsed on his knees, his body bent forward where the kunai had punctured deep. His face was frozen in pain, though his grip on the younger child's wrist had loosened completely—his final act before death.

The two-year-old did not sob, did not wail, did not scream.

Yet tears streamed endlessly down his pale cheeks.

Danzo’s voice remained as calm as ever. "Do you understand now? This is what it takes to create something unbreakable. The boy who survives this will be more than human. He will be a tool, a perfect shinobi. Free from weakness. Free from hesitation."

Anko took a sharp breath through her nose, her fists clenching. “You sick bastard.”

Kakashi’s hands twitched at his sides. He had seen many horrors in his life—too many. But this?

A toddler forced to kill. Not even old enough to understand the concept of death, yet made to experience its full weight in the most intimate way possible.

Kakashi forced himself to remain still, but his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet—controlled.

"Where is he?"

Danzo’s lips barely curved in amusement. "That, Hatake, is something you will have to find out on your own. But let me assure you—what you’ve seen tonight is only the beginning."

With that, the screen cut to static, the signal severed.

The room fell into silence.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, Anko turned on her heel, storming toward the exit. "We’re getting that kid."

Kakashi was already moving beside her. "Agreed."

A deep rumble shook the walls. The overhead lights flickered violently as the floor beneath them trembled, sending dust and debris falling from the ceiling.

Kakashi’s gaze snapped to the cracks forming along the walls. A failsafe.

Danzo’s final contingency plan.

“Shit.” Anko hissed, already pivoting toward the exit. “He’s bringing the whole damn place down on us!”

The monitor that once displayed Danzo’s image now flickered with static before shutting off completely. Somewhere within the facility, the whir of machinery surged—mechanisms triggering as explosive tags hidden within the foundation began their countdown.

Kakashi was already scanning the room. “We need to move, now.”

Another violent tremor sent a deep crack running up the nearest support beam, the very structure groaning under the weight of its own destruction.

“Where’s the kid?” Anko asked sharply, turning her head in every direction.

Kakashi’s Sharingan flickered, tracking movement. “There—against the back wall.”

Their gazes snapped to the far end of the room, where the tiny figure of the two-year-old stood motionless, his blood-covered hands still trembling, his expression eerily blank.

For a second, neither of them moved. The child didn't react to the collapsing room around him, as if his mind had already shut down completely.

Then Kakashi was moving.

He crossed the space in an instant, crouching in front of the boy. “Hey,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re getting you out of here.”

No response. The child didn’t even flinch.

Kakashi swore under his breath. Danzo must have done more than just break his emotions—he's been conditioned not to react at all.

“Kakashi!” Anko called as a section of the ceiling collapsed just behind them.

No time.

Kakashi scooped the boy into his arms. The child didn’t resist, didn’t struggle—just remained eerily limp in his grasp.

The tremors worsened.

Anko moved first, leading the way through the collapsing structure. “We don’t have time to find the real exit—stick to the path we came in!”

Kakashi nodded, securing the boy as he sprinted forward, dodging debris as the facility crumbled around them.

The blast doors leading back to the surface were already in the process of sealing.

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed. Not happening.

With a burst of chakra, he surged ahead, dodging past crumbling beams and jagged debris. The final blast door was closing fast.

“Move it, Kakashi!” Anko shouted.

With a final burst of speed, Kakashi dived through—just as the steel door slammed shut behind them, sealing the underground base forever.

A boom rocked the earth beneath their feet as the facility finally imploded.

Silence.

Dust settled in the cold night air.

Anko exhaled sharply, bending over to catch her breath. “Remind me—next time, we burn the place first, then go in.”

Kakashi ignored her.

He shifted the boy in his arms, looking down at the child’s eerily blank expression.

Even now, with the danger gone, the kid remained unresponsive.

Anko straightened, looking at him with something unreadable in her expression.

“…Think he’s gonna be okay?”

Kakashi was silent for a moment. Then, softly, he murmured, “I don’t know.”

But what he did know was this—

They had him now.

And no matter what it took, they weren’t letting Danzo get his hands on him again.

Without another word, they turned toward the village.

As they made their way through the dense forest surrounding the village, Kakashi pulled out a small radio device, tuning it to a secure channel. His voice was low but urgent. “This is Hatake. Mission complete, but we need immediate medical support. Location will be transmitted now.”

There was a brief silence before Minato’s voice came through, steady but laced with concern. “Understood. Sending a team to your coordinates. Hold tight.”

Kakashi exhaled. He didn’t doubt Minato had caught the edge in his tone—this wasn’t just a standard extraction.

They reached the designated meeting point—a clearing away from any main roads or patrol routes, ensuring absolute secrecy. Anko paced slightly, keeping a sharp eye on the unconscious boy in Kakashi’s arms.

Minutes later, a faint flicker of yellow light signaled Minato’s arrival, his signature Flying Thunder God technique cutting the travel time to nothing. The moment he materialized, a small squad of medical-nin appeared beside him, carrying supplies and prepared for whatever situation awaited them.

Minato’s sharp blue eyes locked onto Kakashi, his gaze swiftly assessing him before landing on the small, fragile child cradled in his arms. His usual composed expression darkened, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon him.

"Is this the only one?" Minato’s voice was steady, but there was an undeniable urgency beneath it.

Kakashi shook his head, his grip tightening momentarily before he stepped forward, carefully transferring the toddler into Minato’s arms. “No,” he said quietly. “There are more.”

Minato instinctively cradled the child closer, his jaw tightening as he took in the boy’s unnervingly blank expression. The child didn’t react to the movement, barely even registering the shift in his surroundings.

Kakashi exhaled, then without another word, his Sharingan flared to life. The space around them warped, a swirling distortion ripping open reality itself.

The air pulsed unnaturally as the technique took effect, and one by one, the missing children began to appear.

Some collapsed immediately, their small bodies weakened by malnutrition and trauma. Others stood stiffly, their expressions blank, eyes unfocused as if they were still trapped in whatever nightmare Danzo had forced upon them.

Minato exhaled sharply, his hands instinctively tightening around the unconscious toddler in his hold.

The medical-nin behind him froze at the sight before quickly springing into action, rushing forward to assess the children.

Minato’s gaze lingered on each of their faces—drained, broken, empty—before settling back on the one in his arms.

His grip tightened ever so slightly.

For the first time, a dark thought crept into his mind.

If I had died that night… if I hadn’t been there to protect Naruto… would my son have ended up like this?

Minato barely registered the flurry of medical-nin around him as they rushed to stabilize the children. His arms instinctively tightened around the toddler in his grasp, the boy’s body unnervingly still despite his shallow, rhythmic breaths.

His thoughts spiraled, his mind forcing him down a path he didn’t want to walk.

If I hadn’t been there… if I had died that night…

The what-ifs clawed at him. Would Naruto have been another one of Danzo’s victims? Stripped of his name, his heart, his very sense of self? Conditioned to kill, to obey without question?

Would his son—his bright, laughing, energetic little boy—have ended up just like this?

Minato swallowed hard, forcing the thoughts away. No. He wouldn’t let himself go there.

"Lord Hokage?"

A medic's voice snapped him back to the present. He blinked, realizing he had been staring too long at the child in his arms.

"He's stable, but he’s unresponsive,” the medic continued. “We’ll need to get him to the hospital immediately for further evaluation."

Minato nodded once, his grip on the boy still firm. "Make sure they're all given priority care. I want full reports on each of them by morning."

"Understood, sir." The medical-nin bowed before hurrying off, directing others to carefully transport the children.

Kakashi stepped beside him, his expression unreadable. He’d seen that distant look in Minato’s eyes before—years ago, when they had lost people on missions, when he had been forced to make impossible choices.

"You’re thinking too much," Kakashi murmured.

Minato exhaled sharply. "How can I not?"

Kakashi didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced down at the child in Minato’s arms. "At least this one still has a chance. Because you’re here."

Minato looked at him, searching for something in his student’s expression. Finally, he nodded.

He had spent years protecting the village. Defending the future.

But now, this was the future standing right in front of him.

And he would make damn sure this child—all of these children—had a chance at something more than just being weapons.

Minato exhaled, adjusting his hold on the unconscious toddler before turning back to Kakashi. "Looks like I’ll be pulling an all-nighter," he said, his tone lighter, but the weight in his eyes still lingered. "I need to go through the village records, cross-reference any reports of missing children. If even one of these kids has family left, they deserve to know."

Kakashi nodded, understanding the unspoken burden behind those words.

Minato’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at his former student. "You and Anko should get some rest. You’ve done more than enough for tonight. I’ll expect your report in the morning."

In a flash of golden light, Minato vanished, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of his teleportation jutsu.

Kakashi stood still for a moment, the weight of the mission settling over him now that the urgency had passed. He let out a slow breath before turning to Anko.

Anko rolled her shoulders, shaking off the lingering tension. "Well, that was a hell of a night." She crossed her arms, tilting her head toward Kakashi. "You think the old man’s really gonna find anything in those records?"

Kakashi’s gaze lingered on the spot where Minato had disappeared. "If anyone can, it’s him." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of something unreadable behind it.

Anko studied him for a moment before huffing out a breath. "Yeah… but even if he does find something, that kid’s not gonna be okay just because he’s got a name in some dusty file." She shoved her hands into her pockets, her brow furrowing. "That blank look he had… I’ve seen it before. That doesn’t go away overnight."

Kakashi nodded, his single eye dark with thought. "No, it doesn’t."

The silence stretched between them, the weight of what they’d seen, what they’d saved, pressing down like a heavy fog.

Finally, Anko let out a sharp exhale, her voice quieter than usual. "We should keep an eye on him."

Kakashi didn’t respond immediately, but his lack of protest spoke volumes. He knew what she meant. Not just the kid. All of them.

After a beat, he glanced at her. "That what you’re thinking?"

Anko smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Look, I don’t do the whole ‘maternal instincts’ thing, but I do know what it’s like to be raised for someone else’s purpose. And I know damn well that if we leave it up to just the higher-ups, those kids are gonna fall through the cracks."

Kakashi tilted his head, considering her words. "So… what? You volunteering for babysitting duty?"

She snorted. "Tch. More like making sure no one else decides they’d make good tools for another experiment."

Kakashi hummed in agreement. "You’re not wrong."

Anko shifted on her feet, glancing toward the direction of the hospital. "Think the Hokage will mind if we swing by tomorrow? Just to… check in."

Kakashi closed his eye briefly, then nodded. "I don’t think he’ll be surprised."

They stood in silence for a moment longer before Anko let out an exaggerated groan, stretching her arms above her head. "Alright, I need a drink or twelve after all this. You coming?"

Kakashi shook his head, already turning toward the village. "You go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Anko clicked her tongue. "Suit yourself."

With that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Kakashi alone with his thoughts. He didn’t move for a long moment before finally sighing and starting toward the village himself.

Yeah, he thought. They’d definitely be checking in.