The Root base was buried deep beneath Konoha—an underground labyrinth of dimly lit corridors, cold metallic walls, and ever-present silence. Even the air itself seemed stale, as though it had not changed for years. Within its main hall, Danzo Shimura stood tall, his presence radiating authority and a chilling indifference that made the Root operatives around him bow in reverence.
His one visible eye was cold, sharp, and filled with disdain. Opposite him, Orochimaru entered with his trademark eerie smile, his pale face glowing faintly in the torchlight. His golden eyes glimmered like those of a snake, unblinking, searching, always probing.
Danzo's voice broke the silence, steady yet domineering, carrying an unmistakable sense of temptation beneath the coldness.
"Orochimaru… The Ninja World is on the brink of an unprecedented disaster. But as you know, for Konoha, crisis and opportunity are often two sides of the same coin. What is the end of the world for others may be a new dawn for us."
His words echoed in the underground chamber. They were not merely spoken but carried a strange weight, as if hidden behind each syllable was a compulsion, a whisper that tugged at the edges of the mind.
Orochimaru tilted his head slightly, his expression calm, but his inner senses sharpened. His instincts had always been keen, especially when it came to the soul and spirit. He could sense it clearly—something was off about Danzo. His tone, his gaze, even the faint tremor hidden beneath his arrogance… It was as though Danzo was being influenced by a power beyond ordinary human will.
Yet Orochimaru remained silent, waiting.
Seeing his lack of response, Danzo's lips curved into a thin line. He raised his chin, his voice becoming even more commanding.
"As long as I become Hokage, I will not only restore your position in Konoha but also grant you unrestricted access to all forbidden jutsu archives."
The words all hung in the air like bait before a predator. Orochimaru's snake-like eyes narrowed with amusement.
"Does 'all'…" he drawled slowly, "…also include the likes of Edo Tensei?"
Danzo's expression did not flicker. "Of course. Even techniques such as Edo Tensei will be open to you."
A faint hiss of excitement almost escaped Orochimaru's throat, though he kept his composure. He had already secretly mastered Edo Tensei, but Danzo's promise revealed far more—it suggested permission for unrestricted human experimentation. Yet the very fact that Danzo would offer something so recklessly broad only confirmed Orochimaru's unease.
Danzo was not the man he once knew.
Orochimaru's lips stretched into his usual sly smile, concealing the caution growing inside him. "In that case, Lord Danzo… what do you require of me?"
Danzo did not answer with words immediately. Instead, he swept aside his cloak, revealing his right side. Orochimaru's eyes narrowed instantly.
Half of Danzo's torso was covered with grotesque growths of Hashirama's cells. What had once been restricted to a single arm had now spread across his body like a living infestation of vines, pulsing with faint traces of Wood Release chakra. The greenish texture crawled up to his chest, as though threatening to consume him entirely.
And yet… impossibly… Danzo remained in control.
Orochimaru's lips parted slightly in fascination. He, more than anyone, knew the violent will of Hashirama's cells. The fact that Danzo was suppressing such a rampant infection without being devoured was nothing short of extraordinary.
Danzo's voice cut through the silence, calm and chilling.
"I need more Sharingan transplants."
He spoke the words with the weight of an oath.
At his signal, Root operatives carried in several sealed containers, setting them down before Orochimaru. Within each jar floated a crimson Sharingan, their tomoe glowing eerily in the liquid. The eyes seemed alive, watching, whispering.
"These," Danzo said, his tone low but resolute, "are my key to true power."
Orochimaru's gaze lingered on the eyes. Dozens of Sharingan harvested from the Uchiha clan's annihilation night. The sight alone could have driven weaker men to madness.
For a long moment, he was silent. Then, with a faint chuckle, he nodded.
"Since it is your request, Lord Danzo… of course, I shall assist."
He prepared his tools, the glint of surgical instruments reflecting dim torchlight. The procedure was nothing new to him—he had transplanted the Sharingan many times before. Yet never at this scale.
Danzo lay down on the operating table, his body unnaturally calm despite the invasive preparations. Orochimaru glanced at him curiously, his smile widening.
It was then that Danzo spoke again, his tone cutting.
"Orochimaru. Your heart seems unsettled. What weighs on your mind?"
Orochimaru's hand paused momentarily before he resumed. "Nothing," he replied smoothly. "I merely considered… if the Ninja World is truly facing destruction, then perhaps we require allies beyond the living. Reviving the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, for instance."
For the first time, Danzo's expression flickered. His single visible eye narrowed, a faint hesitation crossing his face. Then his lips curled into a disdainful smirk.
"If Tobirama-sensei returned, the first thing he would do is strip both Hiruzen and me of our authority. Reviving him would not strengthen us. It would place us at his mercy. Tell me, Orochimaru, is that what you want?"
The words were sharp, layered with accusation. Orochimaru's smile widened just slightly, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. "Merely a thought," he murmured.
Danzo's eye hardened. "Are you testing me?"
Orochimaru raised a brow. "No."
The silence stretched. Then Danzo suddenly reached up and ripped away the bandages covering his right eye.
What was revealed made even Orochimaru's heart skip.
A Mangekyo Sharingan.
The crimson pinwheel pattern swirled with a terrifying aura—Uchiha Shisui's eye, radiating a pressure that seemed to pierce straight into the soul.
"Hmph." Danzo sneered, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Before the gaze of this eye, all your little tricks are nothing. Every thought you conceal is already exposed."
A suffocating pressure flooded the room. The weight of the Sharingan's mental dominance pressed down like a storm, making even Orochimaru's formidable will quiver for a heartbeat.
He smirked faintly, but inside, cold sweat trickled. His instincts screamed of danger.
And then—without warning—Danzo struck.
Shisui's eye flared, a surge of visual prowess slicing into Orochimaru's consciousness like a blade. Instinct saved him; his body twisted backward with a serpentine grace, narrowly dodging a mental strike that could have killed him.
But he was too slow for the next illusion.
The world twisted, melted, and reformed.
Suddenly, a blade gleamed in the dark, cutting through the air. It pierced directly into his throat.
Pain. White-hot, searing pain. His pupils shrank as his body convulsed. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to move, but it was too late—death itself seemed to embrace him.
And then…
Ripples spread across the scene.
The pain vanished. The blade dissolved.
The hall returned to its dim, silent stillness.
Orochimaru stood there frozen, his body unharmed. His mind, however, raced.
"…Genjutsu," he muttered, his voice low, venomous.
Danzo's cold chuckle filled the air. "Just a small warning. Do not entertain foolish thoughts again. Before the Sharingan, everything is seen."
For a moment, Orochimaru's lips curled, hiding a dangerous amusement.
You're not even an Uchiha… and yet you dare say this to me?
Still, he bowed his head, feigning submission, while inside, his interest in Danzo's growing madness only deepened.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)