The air in the Root headquarters did not move. It was ancient, cold, and heavy with the scent of damp earth, sterile disinfectant, and secrets. There were no windows to the world above; the only light came from stark, cold lanterns that cast long, distorted shadows and bleached all color from the unadorned stone walls. Sound did not echo here; it was swallowed by the oppressive silence, a silence broken only by the whisper of a ventilation shaft or the rustle of a page being turned. This was the dark, unseen root system of the Hidden Leaf, a place where sentimentality and emotion were cauterized, leaving only the cold, hard logic of absolute loyalty and the preservation of the village at any cost.
At its heart, in a spartan chamber furnished with little more than a stone desk and a single chair, sat Danzo Shimura. One eye, sharp and black, scanned the documents before him. The other was hidden beneath a swathe of bandages, a secret kept even from his most trusted agents. On his desk was a meticulously compiled file containing the profiles of every new student admitted to the Academy's A and B batches.
He flipped through the first few pages with dismissive contempt. Clan children. Inuzuka, Akimichi, Nara… all shackled by their traditions, their emotions, their sentimental bonds. Predictable. Useful in their own ways, but ultimately flawed. He paused at the Uchiha section, his visible eye narrowing on Itachi's profile. Prodigy, the report stated. Awakened the Sharingan during the final spar. Danzo's lip curled slightly. Talent, undeniably. But Uchiha talent was a wildfire, prone to the emotional infernos of their cursed bloodline. A powerful piece on the board, but one that required careful, constant observation.
Then, he turned a page and his gaze stopped.
Name: Ryu Haruno.
Parents: Kizashi and Mebuki Haruno (Former Genin, Civilian Status).
Affinities: Wind, Lightning (Confirmed).
Evaluation: Fought Uchiha Itachi to a draw. Demonstrated high-level Taijutsu, Body Flicker Technique, and an unknown form of nature transformation to enhance physical speed and power. Forfeited the match, citing chakra exhaustion.
Recommendation: Class A. High Potential.
Danzo read the report again, his mind dissecting every word. Civilian-born. A perfect blank slate, unburdened by the foolish pride of a clan. Two primary affinities. A rarity that spoke of immense innate power. And then the most crucial parts. An unknown, high-level jutsu that allowed him to match, even surpass, a Sharingan-wielding Uchiha in speed. And the forfeit.
Chakra exhaustion. A convenient, plausible lie. Danzo didn't believe it for a second. This was not the act of a tired child. It was the calculated move of a strategist. This boy, this Ryu Haruno, had showcased monstrous potential and then, in the very same breath, had deliberately thrown a cloak over it, seeking to fade back into the crowd. He was hiding his true strength. That kind of cunning, that instinct for the shadows, was not something that could be taught. It was innate. It was the mark of a true shinobi.
He would be a perfect instrument, Danzo thought, the idea taking root in the fertile soil of his ambition. Devoid of clan ties, possessing immense power, and a mind that understands the value of deception. He could be shaped. Forged.
His thoughts soured as they inevitably turned to the man who now sat in the Hokage's office, basking in the village's adoration. Minato. A hero bathed in sunlight, a fool who believed that compassion and trust were the bedrock of strength. He spoke of the Will of Fire as if it were a warm, comforting hearth, when Danzo knew the truth: fire is a tool. It must be wielded without sentiment, used to burn away the rot before it can spread.
And Sarutobi… the name was venom on his tongue. His former teammate, the man who had preached about that same fire his entire life, yet had lacked the spine to truly wield it. The man who had looked at Danzo's unwavering resolve, his willingness to do what was necessary, and called it darkness. The man who had chosen the flashy, popular youth over him. Over the one man who truly understood what it took to protect the Leaf.
They will let their emotions be the downfall of this village, Danzo seethed internally, his grip tightening on the file. Their sentimentality is a disease. For now, I must play their game. I must wear a mask of cooperation for that smiling fool, Minato. But the roots grow deep in the darkness, while the leaves wither in the sun.
A figure materialized from the shadows at the edge of the room, silent as a grave. A Root operative, their face hidden behind a blank, white mask, knelt and awaited orders.
Danzo did not look up from the file. He tapped a single, bony finger on the picture of the smiling, pink-haired boy.
"Ryu Haruno," he said, his voice a low, cold rasp that was absorbed by the silent stone. "Place him under surveillance. I want to know everything. His training regimen, his friends, his conversations. I want to know what he dreams about at night."
"As you wish, Lord Danzo," the operative whispered, and then, as silently as he had appeared, he was gone.
Danzo stared down at the file, at the face of the five-year-old boy. He no longer saw a child. He saw a weapon of unparalleled potential. A tool waiting to be claimed from the light and tempered in the shadows.
The next day at the Academy, the mood changed. The teacher, Daikoku-sensei, took the class outside to a training ground. The sky was grey, and the air felt cold.
"A shinobi must be a ghost," Daikoku said. His voice was no longer warm and inspiring. It was hard. "You must learn to erase your presence. We are going to play hide and seek. You have five minutes to hide. If I find you, you fail."
All the kids ran to find a hiding spot. Hana and her puppies jumped over a fence into the woods. Itachi seemed to fade into the shadows of a building.
As Ryu started to run, he felt a cold prickle on the back of his neck. It was a strong feeling, like someone was staring right at him. He quickly looked around, past the other kids, and up at the rooftops overlooking the school.
He saw a figure standing there. The person wore a standard uniform, but their face was covered by a blank, white mask. A Root Anbu. Ryu knew at once. This was the person Danzo had sent to watch him.
A deep, cold fear went through him. This wasn't a school game anymore. This was real.
He ran with a purpose, using a little bit of chakra on the soles of his feet to stick to surfaces. He ran right up the trunk of a large tree and slipped into a dark, hollowed-out spot. He held his breath and became part of the tree's shadow.
From his hiding spot, he watched Daikoku find the other students. He was fast and scary, appearing out of nowhere.
"Your breathing is too loud," he told one boy. "You're dead."
He found a girl hiding in some flowers. "I can smell your perfume," he said. "Your entire team is dead."
The teacher's words were harsh. He was teaching them that a real mission wasn't a game. Mistakes meant death.
When the time was up, only two students had not been found: Ryu and Itachi.
Daikoku praised Ryu for his skill, but the words felt empty. All Ryu could think about was the masked Anbu on the rooftop. He felt like a bug being watched under a magnifying glass.
Walking home that day, the village didn't feel the same. The shadows seemed longer and darker. He felt like unseen eyes were watching him from every corner. Konoha was no longer just his home. It felt more like a cage.