The dimly lit chamber held only three flickering candle flames, casting the silhouettes of two figures—one seated, one standing—onto the mottled stone walls in deep orange light.
Just like the past.
Just like now.
"That's how it happened."
The dim glow tinted his dark sunglasses amber as Aburame Ryūma's violet eyes gleamed, fixed silently on the one-eyed old man sitting withered before him.
The elder leaned heavily on his cane, his frail frame sinking into the shadows, merging with the darkness itself. His narrow, calculating eye scanned the mission report, flickering with emotions—shock at the Akatsuki's terrifying power, icy killing intent toward the masked man who once controlled the Nine-Tails, and greed for that invincible Mangekyō ability.
But not a trace of his former kindness remained.
How pitiful.
Danzo.
Unable to bear watching the man who was once a warm sun fall so far, Ryūma lowered his head, tracing the intricate wood-grain patterns on the floor as if searching for traces of the friend who once existed.
Unaware of his most trusted subordinate's thoughts, Danzo's aged fingers twitched at the edge of the report, his mind roiling like a stormy sea.
The intelligence Itachi Uchiha had sent back—he had already reviewed it once. Many names stood out immediately, their origins unmistakable.
Take that shinobi named Kakuzu, for instance—a notorious bounty hunter in the black market. With an unmatched mission success rate and client satisfaction, he was a top-tier legend, the kind drowning in cash from desperate clients. A true pillar of the underworld.
Danzo's own operatives had clashed with him once. The aftermath required heavy recruitment just to replenish losses, yet they barely scraped together intel—just the name Kakuzu and the fact that he wielded large-scale composite ninjutsu.
Then there was Sasori of the Red Sand.
Chiyo's grandson, hailed as Sunagakure's most prodigious puppeteer—a title undisputed. Konoha had never faced him directly, but that reputation alone marked him as a monster on par with Kakuzu and Orochimaru.
And then there was Itachi Uchiha, Kisame Hoshigaki, and that masked man who attacked Konoha… Akatsuki's strength was terrifying enough, but the worst was yet to come.
"You're saying Hikari not only instantly killed Kisame Hoshigaki without a scratch but also fought that masked man—the one who once clashed with the Fourth Hokage—to a standstill?"
The wrinkles at Danzo's eyes deepened.
Staring at Ryūma's bowed head, a picture of unwavering loyalty, he found it hard to believe.
Not that he doubted Ryūma himself—no one could question his devotion, forged through decades of trials. That trust was unshakable. Even if the world betrayed him, Ryūma would be the last at his side.
But Hikari? That kind of power?
Kisame, the Tailless Tailed Beast, famed for his monstrous water-style prowess—even Orochimaru had been forced to retreat against him. And Hikari killed him unscathed?
Did that mean she had far surpassed Orochimaru? That even he and Hiruzen might not be her match?
He couldn't reconcile it. The same girl who once had to ask her academy teacher for leave before missions—how could she wield such strength?
If Ryūma had told him this ten years from now, he wouldn't have doubted it. As Konoha's greatest genius, she should reach those heights.
But now?
This wasn't just unreasonable—it spat in the face of the world's natural order.
Hearing Danzo's skepticism, Ryūma shook his head firmly.
"Not a standstill. The masked man fled, relying solely on Izanagi's reality-warping invincibility and his space-time ninjutsu's mobility. He didn't dare face her again."
The report grew even more absurd. Danzo wondered if Ryūma was under a genjutsu.
"This is what I and the others witnessed firsthand. If you still doubt it, test Hikari yourself. Her strength is no illusion." Ryūma's voice remained icy, emotionless—a glacier frozen for millennia.
Could it really be true?
Danzo hesitated.
One person under genjutsu was possible—but not everyone. And Hikari was right there in the Root base. Her power could be verified instantly. There was no point in a lie so easily exposed.
Which meant… she had done it.
A child, stepping onto the pinnacle of the shinobi world.
A monster.
Danzo's breathing grew heavy, his pupils contracting in the candlelight—yet the gleam in his eyes burned brighter.
Wariness. And greed.
Hikari's power unsettled him… yet he couldn't help but fantasize.
With Kotoamatsukami's brainwashing and long-term conditioning, he could bind her to his cause. With her support, killing Hiruzen, claiming the Hokage's seat, leading Konoha to glory—no longer a distant dream.
If she became the next God of Shinobi, he might even unite the world under Konoha's banner.
What a sight that would be.
After decades in the shadows, he finally saw a glimmer of light. Rationality slipped from his grasp.
He believed it.
Pushing his sunglasses up with a finger, Ryūma pressed his lips together, smoothing away the faintest curl of his mouth.
Hikari was strong—but not that strong.
She defeated Kisame because he'd lost Samehada, weakening him drastically. The masked man fled due to ninjutsu compatibility and the vast chakra reserves stored in Samehada—now exhausted.
Without someone like Kisame to feed her chakra, her normal strength was just slightly above elite jōnin level—far from the absurdity he'd described.
Danzo was beyond saving.
That was the conclusion he'd reached after regaining his memories and pondering on the journey back.
The kind Danzo was gone, replaced by this filthy worm. And now, he would fulfill his old promise—to end the man festering in the dark.
But killing him wouldn't be easy.
In his prime, Danzo was only slightly weaker than the Third Hokage. Though complacent in recent years, he remained a top-tier shinobi.
Ryūma, an infiltration specialist, couldn't do it alone. He needed allies.
Itachi Uchiha was his first. They'd agreed—if Danzo left the village, Ryūma would provide his location, and Itachi would strike.
But what if Danzo never left?
Waiting passively wasn't an option. He needed a second ally—and the ideal candidate was Hikari.
No deep reason. Just raw strength.
Turning her against Danzo would weaken him and bolster their side. A perfect move.
Plus, while Itachi couldn't easily infiltrate Konoha, Hikari was already here—inside the Root base.
The best possible choice.
The plan was sound—but how to turn her?
First, he needed to sow conflict.
Exaggerating her power was step one. Danzo tolerated her now because of Kotoamatsukami and her manageable strength. To spark tension, they needed to fear each other.
Nothing bred conflict like mortal threat.
Once Danzo saw her as a danger, he'd test her loyalty. Any hesitation would breed distrust—leading to more Kotoamatsukami attempts or other control methods.
From their mission together, Ryūma had gauged her personality.
Neither good nor evil.
Greedy and domineering.
Harmless if unprovoked, but cross her—and she'd strike back mercilessly.
Both were cut from the same cloth—ambitious, ruthless. If he could expose Kotoamatsukami's brainwashing, their rift would widen until collapse.
Then—Danzo's death.
The chamber fell silent.
The candlelight wavered.
Though physically together, Danzo and Ryūma's minds were worlds apart.
"Good. You've done well."
Danzo, preoccupied with Hikari, dismissed Ryūma with his usual indifference—but then, on a whim, recalled their pre-mission conversation.
"That person—did you remember who it was?"
"Hm?"
Ryūma, deep in plotting Danzo's demise, blinked.
His absentmindedness made Danzo frown.
After decades together, he prided himself on knowing Ryūma inside-out.
Calm. Stern. Reliable.
In Danzo's eyes, Aburame Ryūma was the perfect shinobi—an impeccable tool. He never spaced out during debriefs.
Had that person affected him so deeply?
As his finest instrument, Danzo couldn't allow anyone to sway Ryūma—whoever they were.
A hollow smile stretched his aged face, wrinkles deepening—but there was no warmth, only a bone-chilling menace.
"That kind-faced man you mentioned—the one whose name you couldn't recall. Have you remembered now?"
Ryūma's violet eyes, darker than poison, deepened further.
"I have."
"Oh? Who was he?"
Danzo's grin widened, but his eyes stayed dead. The fake kindness wasn't comforting—it was unnerving.
"He's dead."
Silence.
The candlelight flickered across their faces, just like when they'd founded Root together.
Danzo's eyelid twitched. Staring into Ryūma's shadowed gaze, he couldn't meet it.
Shame? Fear?
He didn't know—didn't want to know.
As Root's absolute leader, any vulnerability was weakness.
Konoha's rise demanded ruthless logic and iron will. That was his creed.
All weakness must be discarded.
All bonds severed.
Yet now, long-buried frailty stirred. And seeing Ryūma—the one who'd unearthed it—Danzo's killing intent solidified.
No one could influence Ryūma.
No one could influence him.
Not Hiruzen.
Not even Ryūma himself.
Feeling the murderous chill, Ryūma's hidden eyes narrowed. Kikaichū crept silently from his sleeves to his fingertips.
Whoosh.
A draft swirled. The candles trembled.
Their faces flickered in the unstable light, shadows warping grotesquely on the walls.
Tension thickened. Violence loomed.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, stark in the silence.
Knock. Knock.
"Who is it?"
"Me."
A young girl's voice rang out. That tone, paired with the weighty steps—only one person in Root fit.
The draft vanished. The candles steadied.
The twisted shadows returned to their seated and standing forms—as if nothing had happened.
Danzo slowed his chakra flow, reining in his killing intent.
Hikari was growing stronger. Her cold detachment during experiments rivaled even his. Hard to control.
His Kotoamatsukami was still recharging. Without Ryūma, he'd have no one left to counter her.
Spare him for now. Once Hikari replaces him… then, Ryūma dies.
"Enter."
The door creaked open.
Hikari strode in, Samehada slung over her shoulder.
Danzo's eye flicked to the sword—the chakra-absorbing weapon from Ryūma's report.
"If you want Sharingan, go to Chizuru."
"Not here for Sharingan."
Sensing the room's odd atmosphere, her Byakugan noted their erratic heartbeats and breathing.
Why so tense?
Plotting against me?
She glanced at the emotional hues above their heads.
Danzo's—wariness, fondness, greed—no outright malice.
Ryūma's—muddled, but… deception? And… goodwill?
Puzzled, she filed it away.
"I need the basement lab's—"
"—that tree for a new experiment."
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