CH_12.7 (440)A month had passed since the official initiation of Ratel’s squad, and the team as a whole had settled down in their new situation. They were still figuring out their new job and in the process of getting familiar with their team mbers.
“I want to take over the anti-ROOT initiative,” Takuma said.
Three operatives sitting before him shared glances at the absurd claim that could be misunderstood in a dozen different ways. Captain Weasel—their boss—was in charge of the anti-ROOT initiative; what did “taking over” an in that context?
“How do you propose we do that?” Boobook asked. She assud he wasn’t talking about doing sothing absurd like stealing authority from his own boss.
“Information is king. For an entity like ROOT that plays in shadows and covers its tracks, you need credible information to do anything against them. Until now, I’ve been the source of information for half of the operatives associated with the initiative…. I want to increase that to at least three-quarters by the end of the calendar year.”
A lot of operatives in the initiative were hooked on the intel Takuma provided because it made their work easier. Unlike him, all the initiative mbers were part-ti. They had an existing caseload from the squads and units they primarily belonged to, so getting information from soone else eliminated the most ti-consuming part of the process.
“I want them to latch on to us because of the easy, high-quality information only we can acquire. Once they see how easy it can be, they’ll find it difficult to go back to hunting for information… thus allowing us to influence them into doing our bidding,” he said.
Most ANBU-nin felt so level of duty towards the village and nation and worked hard to protect it, but that didn’t an they were spared from office politics present in every workplace. Most people in the initiative were there to put themselves in a better position and often calculated how to do that efficiently.
Handling everything from start to finish would earn them more credit, but it would eat into ti they didn’t have. While sharing significant credit and becoming tied to do soone else’s bidding sounded unattractive, but in the long term, it seed like a good deal. Of course, everyone started out aiming to be the top contributor, but that ti had passed and most people realised their place in the hierarchy within the initiative. Most now aid to have the tag of an “anti-ROOT initiative mber” and so solid work to back it up.
Work that they could earn by moving on good information. Takuma was already at the top of the anti-ROOT initiative, but he wasn’t satisfied. The squad was a welco improvent—and they were going to be trusted executives of his—but he needed more manpower. When the Hokage summoned him to his office and asked him what he thought about the ROOT, he answered that they were a cancer to be purged out as aggressively as possible.
He needed the anti-ROOT initiative—full of egotistical operatives who were constantly weighing every move to see if it was worth their ti—to do his bidding in order to accomplish his vision.
“Are we going to interfere with others’ information-gathering efforts?” Mor asked, tapping a finger against the table.
One way to get more operatives to rely on Takuma’s information was to make it difficult for them to source it on their own. There were many ways to do so, ranging from shitty to outright illegal, and asking the team to do any of those things was a difficult ask.
“No, that would be detrintal to everyone. I want to make it happen by simply being better,” Takuma said. He didn’t want to fling mud on others to make himself look better.
“That’s easier said than done,” Hippo said as he poured a special blend of flower tea from a thermos that his wife had prepared for him into a cup. “We’ll have to cultivate relationships all over the country, find competent, and more importantly, trustworthy people we can rely on. Within this calendar year, you said? That’s a tall ask.”
“Never said it was going to be easy in the first place,” Takuma replied from behind the podium, “but it’s sothing we must do. All of us in this room will be working on this initiative. This will occupy the majority of my workload. I’d like you to give this equal priority to whatever you’re working on currently.”
Even though it sounded like a request, it was an order when it ca from the boss.
Takuma stepped out from behind the podium and distributed hundred-page-thick stacks to the trio. “Use this to get started. Coordinate and divide the leads among yourselves,” he said before leaving the room to move onto whatever he was doing next.
The three of them stayed behind and flipped through the thick docunts.
“What the…”
Boobook, with her experience with the anti-ROOT initiative, was the first to realise what she had in her hands. The docunt was full of leads of possible acquaintances and associates of ROOT. ANBU always kept an eye on ROOT and what they were doing, and while the latter managed to keep themselves hidden, the forr still managed to glean a few things like who they were using to do their bidding. But the information was shoddy at best—if it were credible, ANBU would’ve already used it—and thus, there was never any central effort to pursue or consolidate it.
But here it was—all collected in one docunt. The incidents ANBU suspected ROOT to have a hand in, the people of interest tied to those cases, possible reasons why ROOT had used their invisible hand of influence. If he had just collected the information, it still would’ve been a huge thing because having things in a single place in itself was extrely helpful.
But he had processed the jumbled ss of information to make it easy to parse.
This wasn’t sothing anyone could collect in a month or even double or triple that ti. Boobook looked out of the eting room at the clones working in the bullpen. No, even that wasn’t enough to accomplish sothing of this level in such a short period.
That could only an one thing and it made her take in a big gulp of air. Ratel had been planning to “take over” the anti-ROOT initiative for a while. He was going to do it regardless of whether he got his own squad or not.
“…Here’s a thought,” Mor said to the room as he flipped through the docunt. “The initiative is unhappy with us, but what happens when three-quarters of them are getting fed information by us. They’ll have to wag their tails if they want to remain in his good graces. At that point, does what the remaining quarter thinks matter?”
Boobook gave him a silent glance.
Had Ratel really thought that far ahead?
———
.
Taro felt a mix of nervousness and annoyance as he sat in front of the ANBU-nin with a badger mask?
Over the past month, all mbers of his team had been getting hit by work from the new ANBU squad they had been assigned to. They thought it would take so ti before they would be receiving requests as the squad settled down and got comfortable with themselves—but two weeks into their starting, it seed soone had lit a fire under their asses. One by one, his teammates were assigned multiple requests and inquiries. It was almost too much work over a short period of ti.
He dreaded his turn and got ready for the work dump coming his way, only for it to not happen. He wasn’t assigned any requests—but it wasn’t like he was idle because he contributed as support for his teammates in need. But when more ti passed and still no work was assigned to him, especially when his team mbers were taking on more requests, it bothered him greatly.
Was it because he was the youngest? His boss was a faulty person—like everyone else—and he wore too much cologne which made etings miserable, but at least he didn’t discount him because of his young age.
Which could only an that the ANBU squad had barred him from leading any requests. He tried to confirm with his boss, who denied it, but Taro found it hard to believe.
And now, the leader of the ANBU squad was sitting across from him in the eting room alone. Taro’s boss and the ANBU liaison had been there for the first five minutes before leaving.
“Do you enjoy your work, Genin Oishi Taro?” asked “Ratel”.
Taro’s eye twitched at his voice, distorted by chakra. He couldn’t get used to it. It made it feel like there wasn’t a person behind the mask and cloak.
He pondered how to respond to the question. Did he enjoy his work? It hadn’t been his choice; his mother had gotten him the job and he had been working there since then.
“I’m good at it,” Taro replied. He was sure it wasn’t going to be the passion of his life, but he didn’t need passion to do good work.
“Good?”
“Competent.” He had worked countless hours over the past years and gained a respectable amount of skill.
“I need soone competent. Are you up for the job?”
“Yes, I am,” Taro said, clenching his fist underneath his desk. What was this?
“It’s going to be hard.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from ANBU.”
“Then let’s work together.”
“May I ask a question?” He didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed to nod along and get to work. “I haven’t been assigned any requests from your squad. Would you happen to know the reason behind it?”
He didn’t have much in terms of professional aspirations and his main want out of his job was to earn enough money to support his life. He enjoyed cinema and theatre, loved to do casual calligraphy and visited calligraphy exhibits in his free ti, and wanted to spend his ti with friends and family—as long as his job allowed him to do that, he was satisfied.
The people who knew him knew him to be indolent—which was true—but it was a mistake to think he was averse to work. Being lazy didn’t an he didn’t care about what others thought about him. It was true that he had a lesser workload as the support, but that didn’t an he liked it because it very directly implied that he wasn’t considered suitable for his job when he had perford comparably to his peers. If he did the sa work, he wanted to be treated the sa.
“Because you’ll be exclusively working for ,” the ANBU-nin replied, surprising Taro.
“Pardon? ?”
“Yes, you.”
“May I ask why?”
“I like that you ask questions, Genin Taro. I feel we will get along well if you keep asking the right ones. To answer your question, you’re working for
because you’re the least experienced in your team. I assigned the more experienced mbers to my team. I want them to have the best resources.”
So I am subpar? Taro thought with great displeasure.
“I picked you because I’m a fan of your mother’s work and hold deep respect for your father,” said Ratel.
Taro was again whipped with surprise. “M-My parents? You looked into ?”
“I looked into your entire team’s background. That’s standard ANBU procedure; can’t have my operatives working with soone unreliable,” the ANBU-nin said nonchalantly before leaning ahead. His voice beca smoother as he asked: “Are you unreliable, Genin Taro?”
“No, I’m not,” Taro said quickly and with so force. “Did you really pick
because of my parents?”
He felt a heavy discomfort in his pit. As much as he didn't like it, he was fine if soone disrespected him, but his work influencing his parent’s reputation wasn’t sothing he could accept. They had nothing to do with his work, so it was unfair that they would get affected by it.
“Of course not. I chose you because I can afford so delay or mistakes due to your relative inexperience. Don’t get
wrong, I’m not assuming you’re incompetent unless you give
a reason. I’m demanding—demanding but fair. As long as you perform reasonably well, we will have no problems.”
Taro gazed at the ANBU-nin, who claid that they would have no problems, but they already had a problem because Taro didn’t like the rude masked bastard very much.
…Well, not that he could say anything about it.
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