After successfully completing his first mission, the trajectory of Kagura's fate shifted quietly—but irrevocably.
Beneath the layered shadows of Konoha's Anbu system, Shimura Danzō's cold gaze settled upon the young boy whose potential had begun to reveal itself.
"From this day forward, you will be assigned to a Root squad. Your codename is 'Kō'—Yellow."
Danzō's voice was low and unquestionable. In those few words, Kagura's destiny became further entwined with Root.
Kagura lowered his head in obedience.
In the world of shinobi, defying those in power was nearly synonymous with courting death.
With a slight nod, he formally stepped into his role as a Root operative.
His first meeting with his squadmates was frigid enough to freeze the air.
"Ten."
"Chi."
"Gen."
The three stood in a row, faces emotionless, their gazes sharp as blades as they assessed him.
Kagura felt tension coil in his chest.
In Root—where strength dictated worth—he was the least experienced. He would have to climb from the bottom.
Soon after, he underwent the final initiation ritual:
The Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal.
As the sinister marking formed upon his tongue, nausea and piercing discomfort surged through him.
Later, back in his quarters, he examined it in a mirror.
The twisted seal coiled across his tongue like an ugly parasite.
"This damned mark… One day, I'll find a way to remove it," he swore silently.
He disliked his codename as well.
"Yellow."
Plain. Uninspired. Stripped of dignity.
"Ten," "Chi," "Gen"—each sounded formidable, layered with meaning.
And he was "Yellow."
He made a quiet vow to change it someday.
Yet squad dynamics in Root were nothing like he had imagined.
Though assigned to the same unit, outside of mission coordination, they barely interacted.
They were like parallel lines—existing side by side, never intersecting.
At first, Kagura attempted to initiate conversation.
He received only cold indifference.
Eventually, he adapted to the silence.
Mission followed mission.
The targets escalated:
Petty merchants.
Bandits.
Roving brigands.
Missing-nin.
Rogue shinobi.
Even operatives from hostile nations.
Once, they were ordered to eliminate a group of bandits entrenched within a mountain valley.
The stench of blood and rot filled the air as they entered.
The bandits charged recklessly with blades and spears.
Ten moved like lightning, his blade flashing—wherever he passed, enemies fell.
Chi specialized in Earth Release; massive earthen walls erupted from the ground, halting assaults.
Gen vanished within shadows, kunai flashing in silent execution.
Kagura remained at mid-range—deploying shuriken, supporting with Water Release when necessary.
He observed everything.
Absorbed everything.
Through agile movement and precise technique, he gradually secured his place in battle.
When it was over, corpses littered the valley.
The metallic scent of blood clung to the air.
Kagura looked down at his stained hands.
His mindset had changed.
The panic and terror of his first mission had faded.
In their place stood composure—and hardened resolve.
In this brutal world, only strength ensured survival.
From then on, Kagura trained with even greater intensity.
Beyond missions, he poured himself into mastering Wood Release.
He formed hand seals, gathered chakra, and forced trees to sprout from barren ground.
Yet despite relentless effort, progress was slow.
His Wood Release techniques still produced little more than sturdy trunks and simple constructs—nowhere near the overwhelming majesty of Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage.
"Will I never make Wood Release shine like he did?" he wondered during sleepless nights.
Hashirama had conquered the era with Wood Release alone.
But self-pity never lasted long.
"Awakening it at all is already a blessing," Kagura reminded himself.
"As long as I persist, I'll improve."
And he returned to training.
With each mission completed, Kagura's standing within Root stabilized.
At least in Danzō's eyes, he now possessed clear value.
He was no longer a novice.
He could operate independently.
But behind that growth, confusion deepened within him.
Root's missions were steeped in darkness.
To achieve objectives, no method was forbidden.
One mission required the assassination of an influential official from another nation.
The squad infiltrated the estate under cover of night.
When they approached the target's room, Kagura saw something unexpected:
The official was laughing gently, playing with his young child.
There was warmth in his eyes.
For a brief moment—
Kagura's hand trembled.
A surge of resistance rose within him.
Ten shot him a cold glance.
"Do not hesitate. The mission comes first."
Kagura clenched his teeth and stepped forward.
The inner struggle nearly drowned him.
The mission was completed.
But something within him fractured.
Upon retreat, the squad did not leave quietly.
Every witness was eliminated.
The estate was set ablaze to erase evidence.
Assassination.
Arson.
Erasure.
Standard Root procedure.
Is this what Root truly is?
Is this what darkness means?
If he remained submerged in it—
How long could he preserve his original self?
Would he one day awaken and find himself nothing more than a killing machine?
Kagura reminded himself again and again:
No matter what—
He must not become like the others.
Each mission became an internal war.
To fulfill his duty—
Yet retain that faint glimmer of light within.
But without sufficient power—
Would he ultimately sink into Root's shadow?
Or would he one day escape it?