"Welcome back."
In a small grilled-fish shop, Hidezawa smiled and handed over a freshly grilled salted sea bream. The place smelled of smoke and sea salt; steam rose from lacquered plates, and chopsticks clicked in a steady rhythm around them.
He knew Yakushi Kabuto liked this kind of food; Yakushi Nono used to make it for him at the orphanage. The memory crossed Hidezawa's face for a heartbeat—warmth, then gone.
"Thank you."
Kabuto glanced at the fish Hidezawa offered. Maybe the old bruises from Root flickered through his mind; he gave a small, awkward chuckle that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he sighed, shoulders dipping.
"But, now that I'm back, it's pretty much the same. I'm afraid I won't be able to go to the orphanage…"
Hidezawa nodded. Root didn't let you wander back to your past; that rule was tighter than chains. What Shimura Danzo had told him earlier was also a warning: don't be foolish; don't do what you shouldn't.
He largely disregarded Danzo's words, but even so, going would be pointless; Yakushi Nono had already gone to Iwagakure.
"Tell me about Sunagakure."
Hidezawa thought for a moment, scanning the shop with a sidelong look. Servers moved; bowls clinked. He inclined his head, formed quick hand signs, and a thin, invisible barrier shimmered into place around their booth.
"You…"
Kabuto reacted instantly—training coiled in his posture. He understood. He lowered his head, covered his mouth slightly, and spoke through the small shadowed space.
"Where do you think the director is now?"
"I cannot answer that question."
Hidezawa watched Kabuto with a thin, satisfied calm. The kid was sensible; no wonder Orochimaru had once taken an interest.
"But I think there's a high probability it will be your next infiltration location."
"What do you mean?"
Kabuto frowned. Even if he trusted Hidezawa not to joke about this, he still couldn't see the angle. Would Shimura Danzo really arrange for them to meet?
Hidezawa shook his head. Kabuto was still a touch too naive. He intended to teach him—practically.
He had already made Danzo hated by Sasori and by Sunagakure; Danzo would eat the blame. Widening the circle was only prudent.
"The meaning is simple: both you and the director are in trouble."
Hidezawa leaned in and lowered his voice, covering his mouth as Kabuto had.
"You've said more than once you want to leave Root when you finish your mission, but think about what you've done. Will Root really let you walk?
It's the same for the director. She holds leverage that Danzo wants contained. I'm afraid the trouble is already planted there.
Don't rush to refute me. Do you remember how Shimura Danzo forced the director into Root?"
The words hit like a stone. Kabuto opened his mouth, then stopped. He wanted to deny it—surely a Konoha elder had limits—but the memory he'd buried surfaced whole. The conversation he overheard, the tone, the coercion. His jaw worked and nothing came.
"As for why I say you and the director will infiltrate the same place…"
Hidezawa tapped the table once, a precise, quiet knock. He kept his tone soft.
"When I was in Root, I overheard her asking Shimura Danzo for photos of the two of us.
Assume I'm Danzo. You're my subordinate; you've grown disobedient. The director shares that tendency.
To prevent leaks, eliminating you both is the cleanest choice.
How do I do it without dirtying my hands—and make you die together? Simple.
Give fake photos to the director. How old were we when we entered Root, and how many years have passed?
Time changes faces. By the time you meet, you won't recognize each other—because the director won't know you at all."
Kabuto's color drained; the world narrowed to a sharp, ugly point.
"Or, give the director our real photos and order her to kill the people in them.
When it's over, tell her the truth, then—"
"—without Shimura Danzo needing to act, the director would probably commit suicide!"
Kabuto's voice scraped out, barely louder than the clack of dishes from the kitchen. He didn't need to think it through; he felt the inevitability like cold rain.
Hidezawa nodded. Not everyone was Uchiha Itachi or Uchiha Obito—men who had cut out ordinary compassion and forged monstrous resolve. One had slaughtered his caring teacher and wife; the other had walked into a terrible "clarity" and butchered his clan. Normal people broke when pushed like that.
Yakushi Nono was normal. Kabuto wasn't yet a broken thing. When he realized she hadn't recognized him, he'd nearly come apart.
"So, you've harmed many people from the start—yourself, the director, and me."
Hidezawa kept his voice level as he watched Kabuto waver. Then he added the hinge that made the argument credible.
"Of course, all of this is my speculation. Reality will tell us soon enough—for example, whether you're sent out again quickly…"
Kabuto said nothing. Silence swelled between them. He had wanted to trust Shimura Danzo, to believe Konoha's elders—but the boy across from him was his childhood friend, the one who'd been tricked by him into Root, the one whose capability in the Land of Wind left no doubts. The logic hurt because it fit.
He felt lost. The map of loyalty had burned.
"What do you want, Hidezawa?"
Training steadied his tone; a spy had to ask the question that mattered.
"Me?"
Hidezawa blinked, stroked his chin, and grinned. "Naturally, I want to marry more wives and live well. Didn't the Buddha say, 'Without indulgence, all actions lose their joy'?"
Kabuto stared. The line was absurd and somehow too on-brand.
"..."
He stared to object—to call it nonsense—but Hidezawa flowed on.
"To live stably, we have to solve certain things.
Root is a bottomless pit. In the village system, without strength and status, you're a tool.
To climb out—to become the one who wields tools—we have to go up, step by step.
Why should we be crushed by someone like Shimura Danzo? Why should he hold our lives and deaths?
And why can't the one in that seat be us?"
There was steel under the cynicism. Hidezawa had watched older men bend younger ones until they snapped; he refused that ending.
He also knew he probably shouldn't say this to Kabuto—but without planting a seed, the spy would never settle. And Hidezawa spoke because he had confidence.
"Aren't you afraid I'll tell Danzo all this?"
Kabuto's voice was quiet, but it held a threat by habit—testing for weakness.
"No."
Hidezawa pointed at himself, then at Kabuto, calm as arithmetic.
"I've rendered big service, and he knows how I treated you when I first entered Root.
Maybe you want revenge. Tell me—who will he believe, you or me?
Even if he suspects me, by then you'll be dead, and I'll still have a path out. Won't I?"
Kabuto flinched. The logic was cruel and airtight.
"Think carefully."
Hidezawa patted his shoulder, voice dropping to a murmur.
"Even if not for yourself, think about the orphanage. Do you want to work for others forever, scraping together stipends to keep it alive?
Or do you want to eat ready-made... no, sign the allocations yourself for the orphanage, help more kids like us, and give people like the director a better future?"
Kabuto didn't answer at once. The last line landed where Hidezawa aimed. He could ignore ambition; he couldn't ignore the orphanage.
"What do I need to do?"
Resolve steadied his eyes. Hidezawa's mouth twitched—about to answer—when both of them glanced at the door in the same instant. Hidezawa let the sound barrier dissolve.
An Anbu operative arrived at a run. He spared a quick glance for Kabuto, then leaned toward Hidezawa and spoke softly:
"Hokage-sama commands you to immediately gather at Root with your equipment."
"..."
Hidezawa went still. Small hairs lifted along his neck.
'Is this real? A direct pull from Sarutobi Hiruzen? Or did someone decide it's time to wind us back onto the spool?'
*****
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