The air in Danzo's chamber was perpetually still and cool, carrying the scent of old scrolls, polishing oil, and the faint, metallic tang of blood that no amount of cleaning could ever fully erase.
It was a tomb for ambition, lit by the low, orange glow of a single brazier that cast long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. Danzo Shimura stood before a narrow, reinforced slit of a window that offered a sliver of a view of Konoha's sleeping forms, his single visible eye fixed on the distant, dark outline of the Hokage Monument. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, the knuckles white.
"So," Danzo said, his voice a dry rustle of leaves, devoid of any warmth. "Hiruzen is going to make a move."
From the deeper shadows near a bookshelf laden with forbidden knowledge, a figure emerged. Orochimaru moved with a serpentine grace, his presence seeming to suck the warmth from the very air. His long, black hair framed a face of pallid, intellectual beauty, and his golden eyes held a lazy, predatory amusement.
"The recall order went out hours ago," Orochimaru confirmed, his voice a sibilant whisper. "Tsunade, Jiraiya and I have been… reassigned. It seems the various divisions require stabilisation. Our esteemed Hokage intends to shoulder the burden of the main offensive himself."
A light, humourless chuckle escaped Danzo's lips. It was a short, sharp sound, like a stone cracking. "He is consolidating his legacy. Distributing his students, the Sannin, as pillars to hold up the collapsing structure. A clear sign. He is not confident he will survive this war."
Orochimaru's tongue darted out, tracing his thin lips. "Is anyone ever truly confident of survival, Danzo-sama? It is merely the logical precaution of a leader. To ensure the village continues, regardless of the fate of the leader."
A slow, knowing smile spread across Orochimaru's face, a cold and knowing thing. "Though I am quite sure that you do not share that sentiment. In fact, a part of you—perhaps the largest part—would not be displeased if Hiruzen were to find his end on some distant battlefield."
Danzo was silent for a long moment, the only sound the faint hiss and pop of the brazier. The shadows around him seemed to deepen. When he spoke again, his voice was low and measured, each word chosen with the care of a man placing a poison pill.
"Hiruzen's death, or lack thereof, no longer concerns me," Danzo stated, a shocking declaration that made Orochimaru's eyebrows rise a fraction.
"I am now operating on the certainty that after this war, regardless of the outcome, he will relinquish the Hokage's seat. The weight of it has broken a stronger man than he. He will retire, seeking to preserve what little peace he can find in his dotage."
Orochimaru's smile widened, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. "And you are not concerned? The selection of the Fourth Hokage is a matter of some… interest."
"The candidate is still undecided," Danzo replied, his eye still fixed on the window, on the stone face of his former teammate. "But I will be content with any outcome, so long as that Uchiha bastard does not lay claim to it." The word 'Uchiha' was spat out like a venom.
"Daichi has been positioning his son for the position for years. Using his war merits as a stepping stone, he ingratiated his clan with the village. It is a transparent, vulgar gambit."
"And now, with Daichi's… unfortunate injury," Orochimaru purred, savouring the news, "the loss of his eye, it is all but confirmed that Fugaku will succeed him as Clan Head. That will undoubtedly increase his political capital with the Daimyo's council. A young, powerful leader of Konoha's strongest military clan… a compelling narrative."
Danzo finally turned from the window, his single eye pinning Orochimaru in place. The brazier's light gleamed in its dark depths. "It changes nothing. Do not play the fool with me, Orochimaru. You were Hiruzen's student. Your name will be at the forefront of the discussion. Fugaku's lineage is both his greatest strength and his most profound weakness. The council trusts power, but they fear the Uchiha."
Orochimaru gave a slow, deliberate smirk, a gesture of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
"Yes. I was always aware of my… standing. I just wanted to hear you say it."
He paced slowly, a predator circling its prey. "There is, however, another variable. An Uchiha, but not. If Fugaku were to begin cooperating closely with Renjiro, merging the traditional power of the clan with that boy's… unique talents and outsider influence… suppressing the Uchiha as we have would become significantly more challenging after the war."
At the mention of the name, Danzo's posture, already rigid, became utterly still. A new, colder energy entered the room. "That should not concern you," Danzo said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The boy is now, for all intents and purposes, blind."
The effect on Orochimaru was instantaneous and profound. His languid posture stiffened. His golden eyes, usually half-lidded with bored amusement, snapped wide open, their vertical pupils constricting.
"Blind?" The word was a hiss of genuine shock. "How?"
Danzo watched the Sannin's reaction, and for the first time that night, a flicker of something akin to satisfaction crossed his stern features. He enjoyed being the bearer of devastating news.
"His Mangekyo Sharingan. The power is gone. The eyes are useless."
Orochimaru's mind raced, his scientific curiosity overriding his initial surprise. "The degradation… for it to have progressed to total blindness so quickly… he must have been using the Mangekyo's abilities extensively for some time. The chakra cost, the cellular necrosis… fascinating."
"It would explain a great deal," Danzo mused, turning back to the window. "His survival against the Raikage. His uncanny victories. He was burning his own future as fuel for the present. A reckless, sentimental waste of power."
A heavy silence fell between them, filled only with the crackle of the fire and the weight of this new information. Orochimaru was the one to break it, his voice now laced with a new, sharp curiosity.
"And Hiruzen?" he asked. "Do you think our soft-hearted Hokage will seek to use the… cells… to restore the boy? To repay the debt he feels he owes to the last son of Uzushiogakure?"
Danzo's back remained to Orochimaru, but his shoulders tightened visibly. This was the heart of the matter. The core of his anxiety.
"That," Danzo said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that seemed to vibrate through the stone floor, "is my highest concern. That variable… that unpredictable, sentimental variable in Hiruzen's decision-making… it cannot be allowed to influence the future of this village." He finally turned, and his face was a mask of cold resolve.
The finality in his tone was absolute. The threat hung in the air, naked and undeniable.
Orochimaru regarded him, his head tilted slightly, a serpent considering a mongoose. The shock was gone, replaced by a deep, intellectual fascination with the dark turn of the conversation. A slow, dark chuckle escaped his lips, a sound devoid of mirth.
"Which variable are you referring to, Danzo-sama?" Orochimaru asked, his voice a silken whisper. "The Hokage's stubborn compassion? Or the boy himself?"
Danzo did not respond. He simply stood there, a statue of shadow and conviction, his single eye burning with a fire that promised only extinction.
Orochimaru's chuckle deepened, echoing softly in the tomb-like chamber. He had his answer.
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