When Hoshiyomi addressed him as "Danzo-senpai" instead of "Danzo-shishuku" (uncle-master), Danzo's expression twitched slightly.
Tch, this brat really doesn't respect me anymore.
But after a moment's thought, he chalked it up to Hoshiyomi's current frustration—probably feeling left behind by his peers like Sakumo. With that, Danzo forced down his irritation and pasted on a calm smile.
"I heard you've finally recovered your chakra after all that hardship, Hoshiyomi-kun. I came personally to congratulate you. How about joining me at my place for a humble dinner?"
Hoshiyomi found Danzo's tone nauseating. If it were anyone else, such courtesy might have earned a good impression. But coming from Danzo?
Disgusting.
Anyone familiar with Danzo's role in the original timeline would know—there's no such thing as a harmless meal with that man.
If Hoshiyomi were still a lowly chūnin, maybe he would've forced himself to accept, to protect both himself and his mother. But now?
There was no longer any need to play nice.
Danzo was, at best, an elite jōnin. He didn't have Hashirama's cells, nor Shisui's Mangekyō Sharingan. Though still in his prime physically, in a real fight, Hoshiyomi wouldn't be easily suppressed—if at all.
And with that confidence, he had no qualms about slapping Danzo in the face—metaphorically.
They were destined to be enemies anyway. No point pretending otherwise.
So Hoshiyomi replied plainly, "Sorry, my mother already has dinner waiting at home. I'll have to decline. But I appreciate the invitation, Danzo-senpai."
Danzo's already strained expression darkened completely.
Not even a shred of face-saving, huh?
He was never the patient type, and Hoshiyomi's flat refusal only fueled his frustration. But he wasn't yet the all-powerful leader of Root. So even if he wanted to lash out, he had to hold it in—for now.
Instead, he shifted gears and dropped all pretense.
"You've only just regained your chakra," he said coolly. "After all these years, your ninjutsu must be practically stagnant. It must be painful… watching your friends surge ahead while you're left behind."
As he spoke, Danzo subtly activated the three-tomoe Sharingan hidden in his right eye.
In recent years, he had used this eye's genjutsu to recruit a number of hidden followers. Though he didn't have the chakra reserves to control minds for long, he didn't need to.
Even the briefest hesitation—even a flicker of doubt—was enough.
Danzo had a talent for sensing ambition and exploiting weakness. Once he found the crack, all it took was an offer of power or influence, and people would come crawling.
More than a few talented chūnin and even jōnin had already become his secret pawns through this method.
Now, Danzo looked at Hoshiyomi with false sympathy, his voice laced with temptation:
"It eats away at you, doesn't it? The way they used to look up to you, and now… they've all surpassed you.
They don't say it out loud, but you can see it in their eyes. No one offers to help you. They've written you off.
Why waste time supporting someone who's fallen behind?"
"No resources. No power. You're nothing now—just a shadow watching the gap between you and them grow wider every day."
But Hoshiyomi noticed the genjutsu instantly.
He'd trained under Shinku for years—how could he not be prepared for illusions like this? Even Shinku's strongest illusions couldn't shake him—let alone a basic Sharingan spell.
His soul, shaped by two lifetimes, combined with the Sword Heart System, made his mental defenses rock-solid.
Even high-tier genjutsu like Tsukuyomi or Kotoamatsukami wouldn't go unnoticed. The system would flag it immediately as an anomaly.
Granted, he might not be able to break illusions of that level, but being controlled? Not a chance.
As Danzo laid it on thick, Hoshiyomi just stood there, coldly amused.
Still the same disgusting manipulator, huh?
Danzo's tricks hadn't changed. The only difference was that, lacking power right now, he was swapping brute force for subtle recruitment.
To be fair, if it were anyone else—someone who had been crippled for years—Danzo's pitch might have worked.
But this was Hoshiyomi.
He had the system. He was built different.
He didn't immediately dispel the illusion. Instead, he pretended to be affected—just to see how far Danzo would go. Watching the man perform was oddly satisfying.
Danzo kept glancing at him, gauging his reaction. Hoshiyomi furrowed his brows slightly, acting the part. Danzo took the bait.
He leaned in, voice deep and alluring:
"Why should you be the one left behind? You're one of the truly gifted. With the right resources, you could catch up—surpass them."
Hoshiyomi responded just as expected—lowering his head, clenching his fists.
"You're right. I'm not inferior to them."
Danzo's eyes gleamed.
"Exactly! Join me. I'll give you everything—my knowledge, my techniques. Let me guide your talent, and I promise, you'll shine brighter than ever."
"You'll give me… everything I want?" Hoshiyomi asked, his voice low.
Danzo smiled triumphantly.
"Yes. Pledge yourself to me, and I'll give you fairness, power—everything."
Still staring at the ground, Hoshiyomi murmured,
"…And what makes you think you're worthy of giving me anything?"
Danzo froze.
"…What did you just say?"
Hoshiyomi lifted his head, smiling mockingly.
"You? Give me what I want? With that pathetic genjutsu?"
As he spoke, he surged his chakra and effortlessly shattered the illusion.
The backlash hit Danzo like a hammer. Having poured extra chakra into strengthening the spell, the recoil struck hard. His right eye flared in pain, and a thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Shocked and furious, he looked up—only to see Hoshiyomi smiling at him, eyes full of contempt.
"Serve under you?" Hoshiyomi said, voice cold and sharp.
"You? Worthy of me?"