Bratva: Some things never changes

In a forest not far from the compound, a boy of about four years old darted up and down a tree. This child was Izaku Utsukuro, training to pass the time while waiting for his brother to return or for the chance to meet up with his friends.

Coins clung to his body, pressed against his skin, as he worked on his chakra control, running horizontally along the tree's surface.

As exhaustion began to creep in, Izaku slid down and sat at the base of the tree, catching his breath. His routine for chakra control had grown increasingly demanding. His brother's obsession with efficiency rather than raw power had left him drained yet focused.

Still, suspicion lingered in Izaku's mind. Why was his brother pushing him so hard? Sure, Izaku had asked to be trained, but this level of intensity felt disproportionate. He was only four, after all.

Lately, though, everything felt off. The house was tense, conversations between adults grew quiet when he entered, and the absence of his father only added to the weight of uncertainty. Something was happening, and no one was telling him.

Adding to the unease was the forced enrollment of his two closest friends into the CSA. A part of Izaku couldn't shake the fear that he might be next. But there was also a flicker of excitement. Since his reincarnation, the idea of being a shinobi—doing the "cool stuff"—had always fascinated him.

Shaking off his thoughts, Izaku stood, stretching for another round of training. This time, he focused on suppressing his chakra signature while running, just as his brother had drilled into him.

"The CSA doesn't need firepower or shock troops," his brother had said. "Those are useful, sure, but ghosts—silent, invisible operators—are far more valuable than reckless bulls charging into battle."

Izaku's ability to mask his chakra was improving day by day, though it required far more effort due to his naturally high reserves and imbalance between his yin and yang energy. His brother had explained how this imbalance made chakra control trickier and why it was crucial to build his physical strength to help stabilize the flow of energy.

Suppressing his chakra while running felt strange, almost like holding his breath underwater. The body needed chakra to function, and reducing it while exerting himself forced his muscles to adapt, growing stronger without the regenerative crutch of chakra.

Time passed, and as per his routine, Izaku eventually stopped. He loosened his ponytail, letting his long black hair fall freely, and began walking back toward the house.

Despite being only four years old, Izaku had never cut his hair. His mother adored it, often saying it was both "cute and menacing." He still didn't understand how those two words could fit together, but if it made her happy, that was all that mattered.

When Izaku entered the house, he froze. His father was back, but something was wrong. Takahisa sat on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands covering his face.

"Dad? You good?" Izaku asked, leaning casually on the doorframe, though concern laced his voice.

Takahisa looked up slowly, offering a strained smile. His eyes were red, his face drawn. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Just some work stuff."

Izaku frowned, walking closer. "Look, I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I need to know. Izu's been pushing me hard—and I don't mind—but you look like you just crawled out of a grave. I get that you wanna protect me, or something, but I need to know what's going on."

Takahisa's gaze lingered on Izaku for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighed deeply, stood up, and walked out of the room without a word.

Izaku stayed where he was, conflicted. Maybe he'd pushed too hard, asked too soon. But just as he was about to leave, Takahisa returned, a folder in hand.

He sat down beside Izaku, holding the folder out. "Read it. Then I'll explain."

"What is this?" Asked Izaku, as he received the folder.

The folder felt heavier than it should have in Izaku's small hands. He glanced at his father, who sat hunched over on the sofa, shoulders stiff, eyes clouded with exhaustion. Takahisa didn't meet his gaze, just gestured toward the folder with a nod, silently urging him to open it.

Izaku hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. Slowly, he flipped open the cover.

Inside were neatly arranged documents bearing the emblem of the CSA. The first page was a mission report, its contents written in precise, detached language. Flipping through, he came across photographs—grainy, but their grim subjects were clear. A forest torn appart, bodies scattered across the ground, some still clutching weapons, others clutching each other. Blood spattered trees, collapsed.

He returned to the reports pages, reading through the first paragraph, he stopped.

---

Narioki Utsukuro Report

Mission: Nirinobu River Patrol

Objective: Routine patrol and security

Report Author: Jonin Narioki Utsukuro

Situation Overview

During today's patrol along the Nirinobu River, my team and I detected an unusual event. Initially, we heard the sound of a baby crying, which we assumed to be from a traveling caravan. However, upon further observation, Tokubetsu Jonin Uraraka sensed an estimated 24 individuals with above-average chakra reserves being pursued by six hostiles.

We held a quick discussion regarding our course of action. Following protocol, we voted to observe the situation and assess both the group and the hostiles before engaging.

Observation

Upon reaching the operational site, we observed the following:

Several adult males, non-combatants but with notable chakra reserves.

Several females, also appearing to be non-combatants.

Multiple children and toddlers.

Six possibly Genin-level shinobi, five of whom exhibited distinctive red hair.

Hostiles: Three Kiri-nin and three Kumo-nin pursuing the group.

---

Skipping through the report, he reached the end.

---

 Outcome

The hostiles adjusted their tactics after the Kumo-nin support identified me as a Sharingan user. They regrouped briefly before retreating. Tokubetsu Jonin Uraraka reported that she had severely injured the Kiri-nin and stabilized the civilians' injuries during the engagement.

Reinforcements arrived shortly after the confrontation. Following a reprimand from the commander for bypassing protocol, the civilians and Genin were escorted to our clan head for further evaluation and decision-making.

End of Report

Signed: Jonin Narioki Utsukuro

---

"Later on, we discovered they were from the Uzumaki clan, fleeing the war," Takahisa said, his voice heavy with a mix of regret and understanding.

He continued, his tone measured but somber. "They didn't go to Konoha. Instead, they sought to settle somewhere they could find true peace, far from those who betrayed them. But their escape didn't go unnoticed—they were pursued relentlessly. After the confrontation, we offered them refuge. They accepted, on the condition that they could live in secrecy, contributing their expertise in sealing arts in exchange for food, security, and a chance to rebuild."

He paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "The group that fled during the skirmish was eventually tracked down and eliminated. No survivors."

Izaku listened intently as Takahisa continued, his tone shifting slightly, now carrying a sense of quiet resolve. "Today, their numbers have grown to nearly 200. About half are shinobi— Trained and skilled. The other half are civilians, but don't mistake them for defenseless. Most adults are proficient in fūinjutsu, and even the children are being trained in its intricacies."

Izaku stared at his father, processing the information. The Uzumaki clan—renowned for their mastery of sealing techniques—now quietly thriving in the shadows.

"What's their relationship with us now?" Izaku asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Takahisa exhaled deeply. "Complicated. We gave them sanctuary, but that doesn't mean full trust exists. They're grateful, yes, but they've learned to rely only on themselves. They keep their distance, mostly. We provide protection, resources, and in return, they share their knowledge of fūinjutsu and not go outside their territory."

Izaku nodded slowly, the weight of the situation sinking in. "And what about their children? Do they get to live normal lives, or are they being raised as shinobi, too?"

Takahisa gave him a long, steady look. "Normal isn't an option for them. Not after what they've endured. The children are taught everything—combat, sealing, survival. They're preparing for a future where they won't have to rely on anyone else for protection."

Izaku leaned back, his mind racing. The idea of kids, even younger than him, being forced to shoulder such a heavy burden felt wrong. Yet he couldn't ignore the logic behind it.

"Do they blame us?" he asked after a moment.

Takahisa shook his head. "No. They blame those who betrayed them, and the systems that failed them. But they've also made it clear that their priority is rebuilding, not revenge. They're practical, Izaku. They don't want to make the same mistakes that led to their near-destruction."

Izaku furrowed his brow, his mind swirling with everything his father had just revealed. But something didn't sit right. "So... what's the issue now? If they've been living peacefully here for years, why does it feel like there's something brewing?"

Takahisa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze was heavy, burdened. "The issue, Izaku, is that the Uzumaki want to return to Konoha."

Izaku blinked, caught off guard. "Go back? After everything that happened? Why? That doesn't make any sense."

Takahisa nodded slowly, as though he'd asked himself the same question a hundred times. "Exactly. It doesn't add up. They've spent years rebuilding, creating a sanctuary here. They've flourished—quietly, yes—but they've flourished. And now, out of nowhere, they're talking about going back to the very place that failed them. It's... suspicious."

Izaku tilted his head, trying to piece it together. "Have they explained why? What reason could they possibly have?"

"They've given vague answers," Takahisa admitted, his tone laced with frustration. "They claim it's about 'restoring their rightful place,' about reuniting with their ancestral home. But it doesn't align with their actions so far. Why risk everything they've built? Why go back to a village that abandoned them in their time of need?"

"Maybe... maybe they're looking for justice?" Izaku suggested tentatively.

Takahisa shook his head. "No, it's not about revenge. If it were, we'd see it in their movements, in their training. But there's no sign of that. What makes it worse is their approach—they've become more secretive, more insular. Some of their younger shinobi are starting to act out, questioning our authority. And there's even talk of rebellion among their ranks, though what exactly they're rebelling against isn't clear."

Izaku's eyes narrowed. "So they're not just talking about leaving—they're actively resisting us?"

"It's not outright defiance. Not yet," Takahisa clarified. "But there's an undercurrent of unrest. They've started withholding some of their sealing knowledge, and their leaders are less cooperative with our diplomatic envoy. It's subtle, but it's there. The problem is, we don't know if this is just internal politics, or if someone—somewhere—is pushing them toward this."

Izaku's mind scrambled the pieces as he tried to make sense of it. "What if someone outside is manipulating them? Maybe someone who wants them back in Konoha for their own reasons?"

Takahisa's lips pressed into a thin line. "That's one possibility. And it's why we're treading carefully. If they're being influenced, we need to know by who and why. But if this is truly their decision... then we have to figure out how to deal with it without tearing apart everything we've built here."

Izaku nodded slowly, his stomach churning with unease. "So what happens if they keep pushing?"

Takahisa sighed deeply, his exhaustion more apparent than ever. "Then we'll have to make a choice, Izaku. Either we let them go, knowing they could expose our existence to the world... or we stop them. And neither option comes without a cost."

---

"Any suspicious movement observed while before out arrival?"

In the dim, musty room of an abandoned wooden building, CSA operatives and the ANBU team from the Village Hidden in the Sky crouched near the broken windows. Their eyes were locked on the distant villa, its grand structure standing in stark contrast to the decayed surroundings. The villa belonged to the newly appointed Head of Treasury, a man whose sudden rise to power had raised more than a few eyebrows.

The room was silent except for the faint creak of floorboards as someone adjusted their position. Crow, leaning against the wall near a partially shattered window.

The captain, still wearing his dark blue gear and mask, nodded. "Two deliveries. Unmarked carriages. Same driver. In and out within minutes. No signs of unloading. No insignias."

Flower, crouched beside Snow, raised a brow. "Unmarked carriages? Treasury head or smuggler?"

Snow glanced at the villa, his voice low. "Could be both."

Crow tapped a finger against his kunai sheath thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

The ANBU captain hesitated before adding, "Guards around the perimeter increased an hour ago. Two squads patrolling in tight rotations. Whoever's in there is expecting company."

"Alright then. Breaks over fellas, let's go." Crow replied.

Crow tapped his VOCD, switching to a secure channel. "Rakkasan to Snowflake. Eyes on the villa. Unmarked carriages and increased perimeter patrols. Hostiles may be on high alert. Over."

Snowflake's voice crackled through the device. "Copy that, Rakkasan. Proceed with caution. Confirm ANBU staying put for overwatch? Over."

Crow glanced at the ANBU captain, who gave a silent nod. Crow responded, "Affirmative. Team 5 maintaining overwatch. Rakkasan proceeding to engage and investigate. Over."

Flower adjusted her rig, ensuring her tags were secured. "We moving quiet or loud, Crow?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

"Quiet," Crow replied, his tone firm. "This is recon, not assault. Eyes first, blades only if necessary." 

Crow adjusted the VOCD on his rig and handed a spare to the ANBU captain. "This isn't a messenger bird, but it'll do the job faster. Channel Three. Use it only if necessary. We'll need updates if anything changes. Got it?"

The ANBU captain examined the device curiously, his masked face betraying no emotion. Finally, he gave a short nod. "Understood."

Crow turned to his team. "Team 5 stays here for overwatch. We move in quietly. Recon only—no combat unless necessary. Identify movements, assess threats, and get out. Keep it clean."

Snow and Flower nodded silently, their gear already secured.

Crow motioned toward the exit. "Snow, left side. Flower, right. I'll take the lead. Tight formation. Move."

The three slipped out of the building and into the city streets, blending seamlessly with the dark alleys and shadows cast by flickering street lamps. The city was eerily quiet, the usual hum of life replaced by the distant sound of footsteps from patrolling guards near the villa.

As they approached the villa, the faint flicker of lanterns inside the compound came into view. Crow gestured for the team to stop, crouching behind a wall to assess the situation. Snow knelt to his left, scanning the left flank, while Flower stayed low on the right, her fingers hovering near a chakra suppression tag.

"Two guards at the main gate," Snow murmured through the comm. "Switching positions every three minutes."

"Rear courtyard's got movement," Flower whispered. "Looks like someone's pacing. Can't tell if they're armed."

Crow tapped his VOCD again. "Rakkasan to Team 5. We're in position. Villa perimeter confirmed active. Guards rotating. Any visual on interior activity? Over."

The ANBU captain's voice came through, quiet and composed. "We don't see anything. There is movement in the second floor, but nothing definitive."

Crow gestured forward. "We're moving in. Stick to the shadows. Stay sharp."

The team closed in, hugging the shadows of the narrow alleyway running parallel to the villa. Crow held up a fist, signaling a halt. The faint murmur of voices drifted from the other side of the wall, accompanied by the clinking of armor.

Snow shifted to Crow's left, kunai in hand, his eyes scanning for any unexpected movement. "In position."

Crow tapped his VOCD. "Rakkasan to Team 5. Moving closer to perimeter. Maintain overwatch. Report any changes. Over."

The ANBU captain's voice came through, soft but clear. "Understood. No new movement. Lantern on the second floor just went dark though."

Crow's jaw tightened. "Noted. Out."

He motioned to Snow and Flower, who nodded in unison. The team moved up to the wall, crouching low to avoid the faint light spilling from a nearby lantern. Crow peeked around the corner, spotting the guards at the main gate. They looked bored, their attention wandering, but their Katana's glinted in the faint light.

"Flower," Crow whispered, his tone sharp. "Use the silence tag. Make it quick."

"Roger," Flower muttered, pulling a small tag from her belt. She infused it with a faint pulse of chakra before tossing it lightly toward the guards. The tag landed silently, its glow barely perceptible, before activating. The area around the gate fell into a sudden, eerie stillness as all sound within its radius was suppressed.

The guards didn't even have time to react before Snow moved in. He was on them in an instant, his kunai flashing as he struck pressure points, rendering both men unconscious before they could even draw breath to shout.

"Gate clear," Snow said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Crow and Flower moved in, dragging the unconscious guards into the shadows. Crow signaled for them to move into the courtyard.

Inside the compound, the villa's windows glowed faintly with warm light. The air was heavy with the faint scent of incense, masking the tension in the air. Crow motioned for the team to fan out and search for entry points.

Flower gestured to a side door partially hidden behind a stack of barrels. "Side entrance. Guarded earlier, but it's clear now."

Crow nodded. "Snow, check the door. Flower, keep watch. I'll cover."

Snow moved swiftly to the door, examining the lock. "Simple mechanism," he muttered, pulling out a small pick. Within seconds, he had it open.

The team slipped inside, their steps silent on the polished wooden floor. Crow tapped his VOCD. "Rakkasan to Team 5. We're inside the villa. Beginning interior sweep. Stay on overwatch. Report any external movement. Over."

"Understood," the ANBU captain replied. "Exterior still clear. You can go in."

Crow led the way, his kunai ready as they crept through the villa's dimly lit corridors. Every corner they turned was a potential ambush, but their movements were precise, calculated. As they approached the main hall, faint voices filtered through the door ahead.

Crow signaled for a halt, holding up two fingers, then pointed to the door. Snow nodded, moving to the left, while Flower prepared a chakra suppression tag, her eyes sharp and focused.

Crow raised a hand, stopping his team mid-movement. Instead of barging in, he reached into his pouch and summoned his crow familiar. Crow met the bird's gaze, its Sharingan spinning in perfect unison with his own.

"Scout the interior," he whispered, sending it toward the second-floor window. The bird took off silently, its wings barely disturbing the air as it glided upward. Moments later, images flooded into Crow's mind, vivid and sharp—reflections of what the crow saw.

Inside the main hall, a group of figures sat around a low table, their voices hushed. Their dark cloaks bore no insignia, but the faint patterns on their gear were unmistakable, Shinobi.

And then his breath caught. Among the faces, one stood out—sharp features, cold eyes, and a scar running from temple to jaw. Memories surged through him. Five years ago, that same face had stared him down during the ambush in the Land of Fire. Fake Kiri shinobi. A trap that had nearly cost Crow his life.

"I know him..." Crow's thoughts turned dark, his fists tightening around his kunai.

'да что за хрень!/for fuck sake!'