Chapter 23 — Life in the ANBU (Part 1)
With a proper schedule in place, Minamoto Ren's life in Konoha gradually became fulfilling.
Some mornings he would report to the ANBU headquarters at dawn, while on other days, his shift would begin at night. His assignments varied—surveilling suspicious individuals, inspecting foreign merchant caravans, or capturing enemy spies from other villages.
During this period, the "power system" he had been cultivating showed no significant changes. That was to be expected—Ren's current influence and leverage had already reached their limit. If he stirred too much trouble, someone was bound to notice something was off.
He often wondered how other so-called "transmigrator seniors" managed such absurd feats—becoming Kage-level at eight, destroying entire villages at ten. They made it sound as though they barely understood what being a ninja was before they'd already reached the pinnacle.
"Hannya, let's go. We're on duty today."
A man wearing a cat-faced mask knocked on the lounge door, calling out. Beside him stood a lanky ANBU member with a leopard-faced mask.
"Coming, Cat."
Ren rubbed his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose. The recent days had been exhausting—not only were ANBU shifts long, but after work, he still had to meet with Lady Tsunade to study medical ninjutsu. It was the sort of schedule that would crush anyone without superhuman stamina.
Fortunately, the Uzumaki Vortex Elixir kept his body brimming with vitality. Without it, he'd look haggard by now.
Pushing the door open, Ren saw his two teammates already heading toward the exit. The Kuren Unit was a three-man cell—Cat-faced mask: Shimura Yū, Leopard-faced mask: Yorumizu, and Ren himself, wearing a Hannya mask.
"Still keeping watch on that tavern from yesterday? Did Captain Kuren find anything during surveillance?" Ren asked while walking alongside them, mentally adjusting to the task at hand.
Cat remained silent, but Yorumizu nodded. "A merchant from the Land of Iron has been hanging around the tavern these past few days. The goods he trades are completely mismatched with his stated business. Captain Kuren suspects he's a spy disguised as a trader from another village."
Ren took this surveillance mission seriously. The village was at war, and most taverns in Konoha had shut down. Yet this one—"Konoha's Grand Drink"—remained open, which meant it had powerful backing, likely the property of an influential ninja clan.
As a hub for merchants and shinobi alike, the place attracted all sorts—travelers, soldiers, rogues—and information flowed freely. It was exactly the kind of place enemy spies favored for gathering intel. That's why ANBU had ramped up their watch over it.
The three moved under the cover of night, leaping swiftly from rooftop to rooftop across Konoha's tiled eaves, until they arrived at the luxurious tavern known as "Konoha's Grand Drink."
Captain Kuren (Yuhi Shinku) wasn't present—this kind of watch didn't require an elite jōnin like him. He'd only drop by to take over a shift when his schedule allowed. Normally, the three rotated turns.
But tonight was different.
Tonight… they were going to act.
There's an old saying: the Guard needs evidence to make an arrest—ANBU only needs coordinates.
As Konoha's elite assassination unit, if they so much as think you're suspicious, you'll be taken down in minutes.
Standing atop the restaurant's tiled roof, Ren frowned as raucous chatter drifted up from below.
This place wasn't cheap.
With so many wealthy people in Konoha, why was the village's budget still stretched so thin?
"Anyone who can afford to drink here isn't just rich—they're loaded," Shimura Yū said, a hint of envy in his voice.
"My monthly ANBU pay would barely cover one night here, and that's without booking the top courtesan. Do that, and I'd be broke for a year."
Ren almost smirked.
Ninjas earned a comfortable middle-class income—far above most civilians—but they still couldn't compete with the great merchants.
And Yū… well, he was a notorious womanizer. His jealousy at others enjoying two beauties on each arm was hardly surprising.
Yorumizu stayed silent. At eleven years old, he was too young to join in on such adult topics.
Inside, a merchant dressed like a samurai was downing drink after drink, sweet liquor dribbling down his chin.
He laughed loudly and reached for another cup from the giggling woman beside him.
"My lord, your hands are so naughty~" the woman said with forced sweetness, trying to brush away the hand pressing against her chest.
"Hm?"
The merchant's sideways glance held a strange, empty malice that made her go pale. He didn't move his hand—just kept kneading.
"That's more like it. I'm not short on coin, so why bother playing shy?"
With an irritated snort, he shoved a wad of bills into her cleavage, then went right back to drinking.
For a moment, the woman's eyes lit up as she tucked the money away.
But fear quickly returned. She kept refilling his cup with awkward stiffness, caught in the kind of no-win situation that made her too afraid to get closer yet too scared to pull away.
Tap… tap…
The man's fingers drummed impatiently on the redwood table. Even fine wine and warm company couldn't calm the restlessness in his heart.
Then—his chest skipped a beat. His hands froze.
"Takeda Gensaburō?"
A clear, cold voice came from directly in front of him.
The warm yellow lamplight overhead was blocked by a tall figure, casting a long shadow over his body.
Takeda looked up and saw three masked figures—ANBU.
The one in front wore a fearsome Hannya mask.
The courtesan gasped, but before she could scream, Yorumizu covered her mouth and kicked her out of the booth with a well-aimed boot to her well-padded rear.
"We're ANBU," Ren said, his voice muffled beneath the mask.
"Come with us."
His hand rested on Jūan, the blade hanging at his side, like a ghostly samurai risen from hell.
The three ANBU spread out, cutting off every escape route.
This was a kill box.
"Bastards…" Takeda muttered.
"What was that?" Yū asked.
"Shimura Danzō, you son of a—!"
Takeda roared, flipping the table and hurling it straight at Ren.
"Explosive tags!" Yorumizu shouted from the side.
Ren nodded, hands flashing through seals.
He had prepared before coming in—confined spaces made explosions especially deadly, and he had no defensive ninjutsu worth relying on.
BOOM!
The violent blast ripped the private room apart.
Downstairs, geisha and patrons scattered in a frenzy, while half-drunk Konoha shinobi leapt onto nearby rooftops to watch.
Konoha law was clear: any ninja who saw ANBU in action was obligated to assist.
If they were reported for standing by, it would be treated as treason.
When Ren jumped back into the wrecked room, Takeda was already gone.
In his place lay a charred wooden log—a substitution jutsu. He had planned this.
"Do we pursue?" Yorumizu asked.
"Pursue," Ren replied without hesitation.
Chakra surged through his body, propelling him forward in a high-speed shunshin.
Takeda Gensaburō had just burst out into the street, sprinting for his life right under the noses of Konoha's watching ninja.
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