ANBU Custody

They came just before dawn.

Not one person, but a group.

The first thing Shuo Ye heard was footsteps—not ordinary footsteps, but those of trained shinobi. Light, swift, evenly spaced, making almost no sound against the stone road. Yet in his state of extreme exhaustion, Shuo Ye's hearing had become even sharper. He could distinguish at least six different rhythms of footsteps.

Then came the masks.

White masks marked with different animal patterns—cat, hawk, wolf. ANBU.

They entered from several directions within the Uchiha Clan District at once, splitting into three groups and advancing toward the center in a precise fan-shaped search formation. Each held a short blade or kunai, though none had been drawn.

They had not come to fight. They had come to collect bodies.

Or rather—to take in the survivors.

The leading ANBU paused upon seeing Shuo Ye and Sasuke. His expression was hidden behind his mask, but his movements briefly stalled—a fraction of a second, his shoulders sinking ever so slightly.

He was surprised.

He clearly had not expected to find anyone alive.

"There are two here." His voice was low and muffled by the mask. "Notify the medical team."

Two ANBU behind him split off and departed in different directions. The leader walked up to Shuo Ye and Sasuke, then crouched down.

His mask was close to Shuo Ye's face. It was a cat mask, its eyes tilted upward and its mouth stretched wide at the corners. It looked like it was smiling. But that was merely the shape of the mask.

"Are you hurt?"

Shuo Ye shook his head.

Sasuke did not react.

The cat-masked ANBU tilted his head and looked at Sasuke. His gaze lingered for a second on the blood beneath Sasuke's feet before moving away.

"Come with me."

He did not wait for an answer. Rising to his feet, he headed back the way he had come. The other ANBU instinctively formed a loose encirclement around them—not to stop two seven-year-old children from escaping, but to protect them.

As they walked, Shuo Ye saw more ANBU.

They searched every corner of the clan district. Some moved bodies, their motions gentle and careful as they laid each corpse flat on a stretcher and covered it with a white sheet. Some took photographs or recorded information, scrolls and pens in hand as they wrote swiftly. Others stood at intersections, controlling the routes in and out.

No one spoke. Throughout the entire Uchiha Clan District, there was only the sound of footsteps and the faint bumps of stretchers.

As they passed the corner of an alley, Shuo Ye heard two ANBU speaking quietly.

"...the entire clan..."

"...only these two children are left."

Their voices were soft, but in the deathly silent clan district, every word landed clearly in Shuo Ye's ears.

Only two left.

He had known that already. But hearing someone else say it felt different. Those two words—"only left"—nailed everything down. There was no third person. No lucky escape, no one overlooked, no possibility that maybe someone else was hiding somewhere.

Just two.

Him and Sasuke.

Sasuke walked beside him, his steps unsteady, but he did not stop. His eyes were black again—the Sharingan had receded. He looked at no one and nothing, merely staring straight ahead.

The cat-masked ANBU led them to a temporary outpost on the outskirts of the clan district. Several tents had already been set up there, and medical shinobi bustled inside.

A female medical shinobi came over and examined Shuo Ye. Her touch was gentle, but he could barely feel any pain—his entire body had gone numb. The wound on his knee, the scrapes on his palms, the bruises all over his body—injuries that had stung only minutes ago had now become dull, distant things.

"No external injuries," the female medical shinobi said. "But he needs rest. His mental state..."

She did not finish. She merely glanced at Shuo Ye, professional concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," Shuo Ye said.

The female medical shinobi said nothing more and turned to examine Sasuke. Sasuke reacted the same way Shuo Ye had—motionless, not crying out in pain, not saying a word.

New footsteps sounded outside the tent.

They differed from the ANBU's. Slower, steadier, each step landing with composed and even force. It was the gait of someone who had long occupied a high position—not trained into them, but gradually shaped by time and power.

Shuo Ye looked up.

An old man entered the tent.

He wore a white ceremonial robe over layered red armor and a conical hat on his head. His face was lined with wrinkles, and an unlit pipe rested between his lips. His eyes were half-lidded, seeming calm, but something profound lay beneath that calm—like a deep well whose bottom could not be seen.

The Third Hokage. Hiruzen Sarutobi.

Two ANBU followed behind him, but no one else came.

When the Third entered, the medical shinobi in the tent stopped what they were doing and lowered their heads in salute. He waved a hand, signaling for them to continue. Then he slowly walked over to Shuo Ye.

He crouched down.

That motion caught Shuo Ye slightly off guard. An old man who had ruled the Hidden Leaf Village for decades, a man standing at the pinnacle of power in the shinobi world, crouched before a seven-year-old child.

"Child." The Third's voice was soft, as if coming from far away. "What is your name?"

"...Uchiha Sakuya."

"Sakuya." The Third repeated the name, then fell silent for two seconds. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

Shuo Ye lowered his head.

The tent was quiet. The medical shinobi deliberately softened the sounds of their movements, and even Sasuke's side had gone still.

"Sakuya," the Third said again. "This is not an interrogation. I only want to know..."

Shuo Ye said nothing.

His mind raced. The Third was asking what he had seen—this was a very dangerous sign. Did the Third know the truth behind the Uchiha Massacre? How much had he been involved? What role had he played in Itachi's mission?

In the original story, the Third had tacitly approved of the massacre. He had not stopped it, had not opposed it, had not spoken a single word for the Uchiha Clan at the final moment. He had chosen silence.

And now, he sat before Shuo Ye and gently asked, "What did you see?"

Shuo Ye did not know whether the Third was concerned for him or confirming the execution of the massacre.

Perhaps it was both.

"I didn't see anything," Shuo Ye said.

His voice was soft, but firm.

The Third looked at him. Those half-lidded eyes opened fully, his gaze sharp enough that he did not seem like an old man at all.

"Where were you at the time?"

"...Hiding."

"Where did you hide?"

"In the reeds by the Naka River."

The Third's gaze lingered on Shuo Ye's face for a long time. His eyes swept over Shuo Ye's—black, the three tomoe having completely receded—before falling upon his hands.

There was still dried blood on one of them.

"That blood—"

"I fell," Shuo Ye said. "I fell while running."

The Third did not press further.

He slowly stood, his knees making a faint sound. Looking down at Shuo Ye, his expression was impossible to read—whether it was disappointment or understanding. Then he turned and looked at Sasuke.

Sasuke sat on a cot on the other side of the tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. He did not look at the Third. He did not look at anyone.

"Sasuke," the Third called.

Sasuke did not respond.

The Third was silent for a moment, then said something to the ANBU beside him. Shuo Ye did not catch the exact words, but he heard "safety," "supervision," and "temporary."

As the Third turned to leave the tent, Shuo Ye did something even he had not expected.

"Third Hokage."

The old man stopped and turned back.

Shuo Ye raised his head and met the Third's eyes.

"The Uchiha Clan District..." His voice was hoarse. "What will happen to it now?"

The Third's expression did not change. He was silent for a long time—at least five seconds—before speaking.

"I will handle it."

Three words.

Then he left.

After the tent flap fell shut, Shuo Ye lowered his head and placed his hands on his knees.

"I will handle it."

It sounded like a promise. But Shuo Ye knew that "handle it" could mean many things. Protection was one way of handling it. Sealing it off was another. Forgetting it was another.

He did not know which one the Third would choose.

Outside the tent, dawn had broken. Morning light shone upon the tent's white canvas, filtering through as a faint grayish-white glow. It was not warm. A May morning should have carried a touch of warmth, but not this morning.

Shuo Ye closed his eyes.

He could not tell anyone.

What Itachi had said in Tsukuyomi—he could not say it. Danzo's existence—he could not say it. The fact that he was a transmigrator—he absolutely could not say it.

Any one sentence spoken aloud might change the course of the next ten years. Perhaps even longer.

He was only seven.

A seven-year-old child had to keep a secret that could alter the balance of the entire shinobi world.

His shoulders felt heavy.

The ANBU transferred them to a safehouse within the Hidden Leaf Village. It was not an ordinary residence, but a fortified building that had been modified for defense—steel plates embedded inside the walls, windows sealed with iron bars, and two ANBU taking shifts at the entrance.

There were two rooms in the safehouse. One for Shuo Ye, and one for Sasuke.

When Sasuke was taken into his room, he said nothing. He walked in, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at the wall.

Shuo Ye sat down in his own room.

The bed was hard. The pillow was thin. The blanket smelled new, carrying the mixed scent of disinfectant and cotton.

He lay down and stared at the ceiling.

A crack ran across it, stretching from the light fixture to the corner of the wall. It twisted and curved like an unhealed wound.

He remembered the motion the Third had made when entering the tent—crouching down.

A Hokage crouching before a seven-year-old child.

The image replayed in his mind over and over. He did not know what it meant. Kindness? Guilt? Or merely a political gesture?

Perhaps all of them.

Perhaps none of them.

Shuo Ye turned over to face the wall.

The safehouse walls were well soundproofed. He could not hear anything from Sasuke next door—no crying, no talking, not even the sound of him turning over.

Utter silence.

It was more unsettling than any sound.

He opened his eyes in the darkness. There was nothing in his irises—only ordinary black pupils.

The three tomoe had receded. The Mangekyō Sharingan had temporarily shut down. His chakra was depleted, and his body was exhausted to its limit.

But he could not sleep.

A voice echoed over and over in his mind. It was what Itachi had said in Tsukuyomi—

"Live."

Two words.

Shuo Ye closed his eyes.