An Orchestrated Coup [Exemplary]

[Kakashi Hatake]

Kakashi and Minato crept cautiously down the corridor, heading in the direction of the former Kage’s hint. Though his silver-haired protege had begun to sense an inkling of what he presumed was their mark, he’d have to trust in his mentor’s judgement. His sharingan ensured that the darkness held no secrets, though it was nowhere near Minato’s sensor-type ninjutsu. Kakashi instead took up the rear, stealing frequent glances behind them to ensure they were not being followed. Though it was likely that they’d sense a tail, one could never be too careful.

Truthfully, Kakashi wasn’t quite sure what to expect in their investigation. Now that they had arrived at the Makhel clan’s dwelling, it came down to searching; but for what? He doubted that even the Morikage knew what to look for, beyond the obvious ‘anything out of the ordinary’. The inside of the domicile was much different, completely alien in fact, than anything of which he was accustom. The floor, walls, and ceiling were mostly unadorned, composed of rough, splintery wood. Sconces, the only real ‘decorative touch’, dotted the hallways, cradling melted candles that remained strangely unlit despite the inky blackness. Perhaps the family simply left the candles out when they were out for the day? Still, the silver-haired shinobi had to wonder why they had taken the extra effort to blackout the windows they did have. 

As they progressed down the hall, the pair took the opportunity to give each room a cursory inspection, their sharp senses searching for obvious signs of trouble. They could find nothing, this bringing a mixture of solace and annoyance; as much as they weren’t looking for trouble, they hoped their search was not a fool’s errand. Kakashi found himself mentally going through his inventory, ensuring he’d be ready for any sort of foul play or ambush. Other than the occasional odd creak of the floorboards, there was nothing to cause alarm. 

“Should be up ahead I think,” Minato said, breaking the silence. His tone was hushed, despite the guards being well out of range. Years of ninja training had drilled it into his mind. 

Kakashi nodded wordlessly, drawing a kunai from his belt. What exactly the Makhel could be plotting, they couldn’t know. The outburst back at the council had spoken volumes about their attitude toward Tsunade and the village in general. Beyond even the words themselves, damning enough, the sheer aggression in her town was telling. The copy ninja was hopeful that they would simply be pilfering the clan’s plans or disrupting any of their other underhanded ploys; the infrastructure of the village didn’t need more strife. Still, those in positions of power rarely were willing to give up part of their control, and even less willing to relinquish it entirely. He couldn’t help but think back to the Third Shinobi War, just years ago, of all of the lives lost over the petty desires of the ruling powers. Among these, his closest friends. If he and Minato failed in their assignment, such a fate could very well fall upon the people of Mokugakure. Kakashi gritted his teeth beneath his mask, gripping his kunai tightly. He would not abide such tragedy.

The shinobi duo stopped suddenly, having reached the end of the hallway. Not a door nor a window could be seen anywhere nearby, the last room having been a supply closet a few yards back. The end of the hallway was simply a dead-end, a plain wall holding a single, lit candle. The wax cylinder looked to be freshly changed, having none of the telltale dribbles of wax present on the dozen or so that they had seen throughout their walk. 

“Strange that they would only keep this candle lit,” Minato muttered, scratching his chin. He closed his eyes, stooping to touch his fingertip to the floor once more. “We’re pretty close,” he said, re-opening his eyes. “The door should be right around here.”

The copy ninja nodded, stepping closer to inspect the candle more thoroughly. “There’s hardly any light coming from this candle,” he said, removing a glove and moving his hand close to the flame. “No heat either.” His keen sharingan eye sized up the candle holder for a moment, its owner furrowing his brow. “It’s also pointing at a slightly steeper angle than the rest of these fixtures.” With that, he raised a hand to grip the candle firmly before yanking down hard. A grinding noise was heard as the candle slowly returned to its resting position, the floor falling away just feet behind the shinobi duo.

“Well,” Minato said, staring down at the trapdoor that had been revealed. “Down we go.”