Naruto: The Outsider's Resolve: CH_566: Discovering the Scheme (Patreon)

Arisu had been to the detention and interrogation facility maintained by the Torture and Interrogation Force numerous times, but it was her first time at the subsection independently operated by the ANBU. On the surface, it didn’t look any different from the rest of the facility, but the corridors were silent because the walls were soundproofed; the doors to the cells and other protected rooms were reinforced constructions of thick steel; and the internal blueprint was customised to minimise unauthorised entry and exit, along with many more security measures.

“He’s a good actor,” Arisu said, looking through the one-way mirror connecting the bright interrogation cell and the dark observation room.

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Desperation and bubbling frustration laced Mizuki’s voice as he clutched his silver locks between his fingers, holding his head. His handcuffs were tied to the table with a short chain, and his metal chair was bolted to the ground. It was a setup to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

“I swear, I don’t know any foreign delegate,” he said. “I’m only an academy instructor. Please, you have to believe me.”

He sounded genuine. It would’ve been believable if not for the fact that they had multiple sworn testimonies about his meetings with the Land of Rapids delegation, and that he had run when they tried to arrest him. No one involved believed a word that came from his mouth. However, that didn’t mean much if he stuck to his claims and refused to give up any true information. There were tried-and-true ways to get information out of uncooperative suspects; the problem was that they couldn’t use most of them on Mizuki.

Even if most of what he said was a lie, Mizuki was still a Hidden Leaf shinobi, and there were established protocols that disallowed advanced interrogations on their own shinobi. There were exceptions to them when there was significant proof of wrongdoing, but in the current case, they only had testimonies. Not to mention, the position of instructor at the Hidden Leaf Village’s shinobi academy—the first of its kind—was prestigious and carried significant social cachet. They had to be careful what they did to him.

“They should’ve invited you to the interrogation,” Arisu said to Kano, sitting on a foldable chair, leaning on its hind legs, with her feet up on the table. The room was dim enough that she had her aviators hanging from her collar.

Given their limitations, getting the Sharingan into the interrogation seemed obvious. Not to mention, Kano was among the few Uchiha who actually knew how to use the dōjutsu in the context of interrogation.

“… I don’t think we’re needed,” Kano said, gesturing with her chin towards the interrogation cell.

The ANBU kunoichi stood up from her seat and walked around the table while weaving hand seals.

“W-What are you doing?” Mizuki instantly felt something was wrong and got up from his chair, but his chains stopped him from moving away no matter how much he thrashed. “Stop, whatever it is. Stop!”

The operative ignored him and put her hands on Mizuki. He struggled and tried to push her away, but with his chakra suppressed, he was too weak to fight back. It took a few seconds, but like a puppet without its strings, Mizuki collapsed to the ground, his chains awkwardly holding him up.

“They sent a Yamanaka,” Kano said.

“Of course,” Arisu sighed. “But isn’t the Yamanaka clan's hiden jutsu disallowed as well?”

“I guess rules are different for these guys,” Kano replied, unbothered.

Arisu suddenly became very conscious that they were in a facility controlled by the ANBU.

The operative pulled Mizuki up to his chair and wove another set of hand seals before resting her hands on his head.

———

.

The next day, Arisu and Kano reported to Fugaku’s office with the interrogation results. Once the Yamanaka opened up Mizuki’s mind, there was no need for his cooperation as the information was slowly extracted over multiple sessions. Both Arisu and Kano knew it to be possible, but talking with the operative after every session and finding new information was hair-raising.

“Essentially, he was selling academy and Genin Corps records to the Land of Rapids.” Fugaku read the report, a tired expression on his face with a hint of anger in his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Arisu said carefully. “He was selling data on graduates who were picked by jōnin and those who belonged to clans.” Fugaku’s anger was understandable because that meant his son’s data was up for sale. “To make his offerings more valuable, he leaned on his contacts in the Genin Corps record-keeping to get access to their files and supplemented his data with mission and jutsu records.”

Even if a graduate was selected by a jōnin, the records of all genin were managed by the Genin Corps administration because they handled the records of tens of thousands of shinobi and thus were good at it.

Sayuri, sitting beside Arisu, clicked her tongue in anger. “That means they were getting data on every single clan shinobi that ever walked the academy hall—which is all of them.”

There was only one academy in the Hidden Leaf Village, and it served all the children from the clans, big and small, in the village—which meant whoever bought the data knew exactly how many shinobi the clans were producing every year and an estimate of their quality through their academy grades, missions, and jutsu. Even if those records were missing jutsu provided by the clans, any major foreign power could make educated guesses with what they knew about Leaf’s shinobi clans, collected over decades of conflict and spying.

“He also sold data on every chūnin,” Kano said from the couch nearby while staring up at the ceiling. “Whenever he knew a shinobi was up for promotion, he quickly went and copied their full record before it was removed.”

Unlike genin, the records on chūnin and above were restricted via various security measures; the higher one went, the harder it was to access their records. Whenever someone was promoted to chūnin, their records were removed from the general files and moved to a separate archive. However, as it turned out, there was a delay between the official announcement and promotion where the soon-to-be chūnin’s file was still accessible in the Genin Corps archives.

Mizuki knew about that gap and exploited it for personal greed.

“This is ridiculous,” Fugaku said. “He admitted to this?”

“No, sir. He maintained his innocence to no end,” Arisu said. It didn’t matter how many facts the ANBU operative put before Mizuki; he refused to acknowledge any of them and continued to act like he didn't know anything about the scheme. “It doesn’t really matter. I already went and arrested the people who allowed him access to the Genin Corps records. They didn’t really put up any resistance and were very quick to admit their fault.”

Those people didn’t know what Mizuki was actually doing with the information he took. He lied to them that he was working as a headhunter for clans and departments who were always on the lookout for good shinobi. There were many flaws in that explanation, but it seemed that the bribes Mizuki gave them were enough to smooth out any obstacles.

“Good job, Arisu,” Fugaku said.

“I barely did anything, sir,” Arisu said.

“That’s not true,” Sayuri said. “We wouldn’t have found out about any of this if you didn’t look into it in the first place.”

“She’s right.” Fugaku interrupted Arisu before she could say anything. “Great job discovering this and then working on it even though it’s not part of your responsibility.”

“Thank you, sir,” Arisu replied.

Fugaku stared for a silent moment before saying, “Have you thought of participating in the Chūnin Exams?”

———

.

Yamanaka Amami breathed a comfortable sigh as she sat with her legs dropped into the recessed floor underneath a wide dining table. “You sure know how to choose restaurants. Tell me the truth, the rumours about how busy you are are all lies, and you spend all your time roaming around the village, looking for nifty restaurants.”

Takuma chuckled. “There are benefits to having friends close to the Akimichi clan. Do you know that every quarter, the Akimichi clan releases a magazine of restaurants they enjoyed on their travels during their missions? It’s a magazine popular among the foodie shinobi population.”

“Do they have one for the village?”

“They can’t recommend other places in the village when they operate restaurants and bars here.”

“Aww…”

Amami ordered booze with their food; Takuma was paying, so she didn’t hold back.

“So, what’s your connection with this case?” Amami asked and then narrowed her eyes. “Mizuki is an academy teacher… Didn’t Lord Hokage ask you to tutor the jinchūriki kid? Don’t tell me you caused this?”

“How popular is that kid with ANBU?” Takuma asked, incredulously. It was like everyone knew that he tutored Naruto.

“It’s not the kid; it’s you who they’re curious about.”

“What?”

“They want to know what freakish things you’ll do next. Tutoring the jinchūriki would’ve been the chatter around our dark hallways for a while if not for you declaring war on the Aburame.”

“I did no such thing,” Takuma said semi-seriously.

At his level, he had to be careful with what he said, even if it was said as a joke.

“So, was it you?” Amami asked while making him pour her drinks.

“I thought there was something wrong with him, so I had the Police Force look into it. Had to keep distance because of everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah, your reputation ain’t that good among the clan folk. Cocky upstart, they call you,” Amami giggled. “You rose too quickly to many people’s chagrin. And well, you aren’t the most friendly fella.”

“If I rose too fast, what about Weasel?” Takuma asked.

Amami rolled her eyes. “He’s the monstrous prodigy and you… you’re pretty monstrous in your own way. Anyway, thanks for sending this my way. This turned out to be a pretty big deal, so the credit is going to be particularly juicy. Barbary was especially happy.”

Barbary liked those who did a good job, but he was different in the sense that he didn’t punish those who were struggling, nor did he blame them for it as long as it was out of their control. He supported his people and set them up for success because he knew it would benefit him in the long term.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Takuma said truthfully. “It was obvious that the case would go to the Inquisitor Squad, and there’s probably no one better than you for a mostly clean and quick investigation.”

“Huh, then how did you know that we got the case?” Amami asked, surprised.

Even if they were both part of the Domestic Branch, that didn’t mean they shared information on active cases. Not to mention, since the Aburame inquiry, Tachinid had ordered his units to close off all communication with Weasel’s units. That communication ban meant that Amami could get in major trouble if someone found out that they were meeting like this. It showed a great deal of trust from her side to answer his call to meet, something he was very appreciative of.

Takuma just gave Amami a look.

“Well, look at that. My dear Thirteen has all grown up. He’s now the freaky lieutenant. I’m so proud,” Amami said, looking more flushed.

Takuma wasn’t sure if she was truly tipsy or just acting like it.

He ignored her and began clearing the food on his table while thinking about Mizuki’s misdeed. He was right in thinking that stealing the Scroll of Seals would not be anyone’s first rodeo and that Mizuki had to be involved in that world if he could even come up with such an absurd idea. He was pleased that a bad element like him was caught and would be punished. But he was personally angry because a version of his data was now out there for those who could afford to pay the price set by the information and power broker of the Hidden Waterfall, working through the Land of Rapids delegation.

And yet, Takuma was thankful for Mizuki because he might have just helped him with a problem he had been struggling with for a long time.