The corridors of the intelligence wing were quieter than usual. Even the flickering lanterns along the stone walls seemed dimmer, as though the silence had weighed them down. Deep beneath the surface of Konoha, in chambers only a handful of shinobi ever set foot in, Akari stood before a wall of scrolls, eyes scanning the names inked in precise calligraphy.
Every seal, every mission report, every whisper of chakra use had been recorded here. Somewhere, buried in this vast web of records, was the traitor — the one who had betrayed them to the rogue shinobi faction days earlier. Madara had given his command, and Akari would carry it out.
"I cross-referenced deployment rotations and messenger hawk logs," Iname said, stepping up beside him. She held a scroll in her hand, eyes sharp despite the fatigue clinging to her features. "Only three people besides us knew the route you took."
Akari took the scroll and unraveled it in a fluid motion. His eyes passed over the names slowly.
"Touma. Junko. Kento."
All were seasoned shinobi. All loyal, on paper.
"Junko's been in the field since last month," Iname added. "And Kento was recovering from a broken leg. That leaves—"
"Touma." Akari's voice was a blade, honed and certain.
Without another word, the two vanished from the archive, reappearing a moment later atop one of Konoha's eastern towers. The morning mist still clung to the rooftops, casting the village in a silver haze. Far below, in the training fields, Touma stood alone — sharpening a kunai beside a stack of dummies.
Akari didn't hesitate.
He dropped from the rooftop like a falling shadow, landing silently behind the man.
"Touma," he said evenly.
The older shinobi turned, startled, then quickly straightened. "Akari. I wasn't expecting—"
"Who did you speak to?" Akari interrupted. His eyes glowed faintly — not with rage, but with an eerie calm that unsettled even the most hardened shinobi.
Touma's lips parted, but no words came. The hesitation was enough.
Iname landed beside them.
"Your seal was traced to a hidden transmission two nights before the mission," she said coldly. "A summon scroll — wiped, but not clean enough."
The man's face twisted. "You don't understand. Madara's vision—"
"I understand perfectly," Akari cut in. "You lacked faith."
Lightning sparked at his fingertips. Not enough to kill — not yet — but enough to make a point. Touma staggered back, but he knew it was over. No jutsu could save him. Not here.
"I didn't want to destroy Konoha," he rasped. "I wanted to preserve it. You follow Madara like a shadow — don't you see how far he's gone?"
Akari didn't flinch.
"Madara is the reason this village still stands," he said. "Peace isn't given — it's enforced. He understands that. I understand that."
He turned his back on Touma.
"Iname."
A single nod. One flash of steel.
It was done.
That evening, the report reached Madara in silence. He read it slowly, then looked out across the village from his high balcony. The lights of Konoha glimmered like stars below him — a thousand homes built on the ashes of war, each one a promise of order.
"He hesitated," Akari said from behind him.
"They always do," Madara replied. "But that's why we keep moving forward."
He turned, and for a moment, his expression softened. Not in warmth — but in the calm of certainty.
"You've done well," he said. "Soon, it will be time to move beyond the borders."
Akari bowed slightly.
"When that day comes," he said, "we will burn away the last shadows."
Madara's eyes glinted.
"And a new world will rise from the embers."