A chat in the cafeteria and placing a bet he will lose

(Akio Pov)

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After wrapping up with the second prisoner of the day, I headed to the Anbu cafeteria for lunch tucked away behind the HQ.

It's always the same bland, nutritionally packed food that I begrudgingly consume, perhaps a form of poetic justice for my role as the Anbu torturer.

After loading up my plate, I settled at an empty table in the center of the cafeteria, eager to devour my meal as swiftly as possible to minimize the agony of its taste.

"So how was work?" my fellow white-haired colleague, Sakumo, asked as he joined me, his own plate of culinary misery in hand.

"It's fine, Sakumo," I replied between mouthfuls, cramming in the remaining nutrients.

As I reached for a bottle of water from the counter, Sakumo inquired about Danzo-sama's condition, prompting inside jokes from past memories to bubble up, nearly causing me to choke on my drink with suppressed laughter.

"He is still recovering, though his arm is permanently crippled, so he is no longer active in duty," I managed to respond, stifling my amusement.

Considering his resilience and penchant for secrecy, it's hard to predict his next move.

Contemplating Sakumo's potential promotion, I mulled over the recent changes in leadership within the Anbu after the death of the previous Anbu Captain of Black Ops after the ambush.

Sakumo, who rose to the rank of Deputy Anbu Captain of the division was next in line, assuming Sandaime-sama is comfortable with him.

Meanwhile, our conversation shifted to the latest updates from the battlefield, where Sakumo provided insights into the ongoing conflicts with other villages.

Despite the rumors swirling in the subdivision, I always knew it was essential to hear news directly from those on the battlefield to separate fact from fiction.

"Hmm," He mused, contemplating the latest update from Sunagakure.

"With Lady Tsunade's swift creation of an antidote for Lady Chiyo's poison, the casualties had dwindled, allowing for progress to be made without hindrance."

"So Tsunade cracked her code?" I remarked, impressed by her quick action. Though I had expected the process to take longer, I remained unperturbed, knowing our overarching plan remained unchanged.

However, the situation in Iwagakure posed a different challenge. The formidable Explosion Corps thwarted our advancement, presenting a formidable obstacle with no apparent solution. Despite this, their inability to push forward resulted in a frustrating stalemate.

As for Amegakure, their resilience surprised me. Utilizing a combination of poison and explosion tags, they effectively defended against attacks from all three sides, though the sustainability of their defense remained uncertain against all three major village.

"While victory seems likely for Konoha as long as other villages don't join the fray," I remarked, acknowledging the favorable odds which he happily nodded.

'Though there's a risk of losing an ally if my suspicions are correct.'

"So you're free, right?" I casually prodded, testing a hypothesis regarding Sakumo's schedule.

"Actually yes, though I promised Aki for a date, so I can't hang out with you," he admitted awkwardly.

With a mental note, I acknowledged that the worst was yet to come, eagerly anticipating the unfolding events.

Our conversation meandered towards the academy, where we exchanged observations about the youth currently enrolled. Accessing the list required permission, which I secured without much hassle.

Students from the Hyuga clan rarely drew our attention, as the main family typically avoided missions without their branch members, while the branch family served as invaluable sensors within the regular forces and Anbu Black Ops division—a strategic asset for Konoha's interests.

Their physical prowess paled in comparison to the value of their Byakugan eyes—a sentiment we both understood for the greater good, of course.

After perusing the list, we indulged in our usual pastime: betting on the next genius to emerge from the academy.

Currently we are in a tie, where both of us won and lost 3 times ever since we began betting in our Genin days.

I wagered 150,000 Ryo on Namikaze Minato, a precocious five-year-old, while my companion staked 175,000 Ryo on Uchiha Akane, a year older but equally promising.

The terms were clear: the first to graduate early would claim victory. In the event of a close call, popularity would serve as the tiebreaker.

Of course, the outcome was predetermined. With Minato's exceptional talent, I knew I was in for an easy win—earning myself some extra pocket money courtesy of Sakumo, who remained blissfully unaware of our little game.