"Another Uchiha… again!"
"I've been saying it for ages—Uchiha are Konoha's biggest source of instability!"
Danzō's left eye narrowed into a slit, cold light leaking out. "Tell me about this Uchiha Ren."
"Yes." Aburame Torune had gathered intelligence in advance. He began reporting calmly, in painstaking detail—Roy's birth date, school performance, battlefield record, and even today's "blow up the Academy" incident. Nothing was left out.
Danzō listened in silence. When Torune finished, he spread the report open and slid it forward. Only then did he ask, voice low:
"Why was Hiruzen at the Academy today?"
It wasn't graduation season yet. In previous years, the old man never showed up early.
Was it just a whim?
Torune ventured, "Should we send two people to keep an eye on him?"
Danzō didn't answer immediately.
The Hokage was swamped with work every day—so overloaded he could barely keep up. Why would he have the leisure to go to the Academy and play around with a bunch of kids who weren't even on the board yet?
Danzō knew his "old friend" too well. Hiruzen never did anything pointless. And with the Uchiha having held a clan meeting yesterday, then Hiruzen turning around and showing unusual warmth toward Uchiha Ren, even making a special trip to the Academy…
Danzō thought for a moment, then rejected the suggestion in a sinister tone.
Fortresses always fall from within first.
"Uchiha Ren must be watched. The Uchiha clan meeting must be watched too. Root… needs its own Uchiha."
"Giving them autonomy in the first place was the biggest mistake Sensei ever made."
It wasn't just Danzō. Koharu, Homura—even Hiruzen—had always hated this at a deep level.
A country within a country—what kind of joke is that?!
Danzō's left eye flicked toward Torune. "That list I told you to draw up—finished?"
"Right now, there are three candidates under consideration." Torune pulled out a file and placed it respectfully in front of him. "From the younger generation—Uchiha Tekka and Uchiha Obito… could both work."
To get close to the Uchiha's core decision-making circle, you needed decent talent and the clan's attention. Torune had weighed it over and over; those two were the best fits.
But one was Fugaku's staunch loyalist, and the other was the student of Minato—Hiruzen's favorite…
Danzō frowned and shot Torune an irritated look. "Anyone else?"
"There's one more—Uchiha Shisui."
Danzō ignored Tekka and Obito's files and flipped straight to the third. A cheerful little boy smiled up from the photo.
Torune continued, "He's very close to Uchiha Ren. His grandfather, Uchiha Kagami, was once your classmate. The only issue is… he's too young."
Kagami…
Danzō's mind immediately formed the image of a man with clear, honest eyes. Looking at Shisui's smile—those small tiger teeth—he could even see a trace of Kagami in him. He remembered Sensei's old appraisal:
'One of the few Uchiha who truly practiced the Will of Fire.'
Favored by both Sensei and the First Hokage…
Danzō gripped Shisui's file and narrowed his eye. "Him."
Age was never a problem. In fact, it was better—easier to shape than someone whose worldview was already fixed.
And, of course…
Easier to brainwash.
"Start making contact now. In a while, I'll find an excuse to slip him into Anbu."
As long as he got past Hiruzen's gate, moving him from Anbu into Root would be much easier.
"Yes!"
With a wave, Danzō dismissed Torune. Torune retreated with perfect timing.
Creaaak. The door moved.
Danzō's chopsticks lay on the floor like corpses, and the meal in front of him had long since gone cold. After that report, he had no appetite left. He planted his cane, stood, and walked out—heading deeper into the damp, shadowy underground laboratory.
Along the walls stood a neat row of large jars. Inside them floated corpses—some with bulging eyes, some twisted in pain, some frozen in terror, as if they'd suffered inhuman torment.
Yet they all shared the same grotesque feature:
Branches.
Limbs sprouted into boughs, leaves spreading into canopies, turning them into half-human, half-tree monstrosities.
"You're here."
A cold, reptilian voice hissed from behind, making the air prick the skin.
With his back to Danzō stood a thin figure, purple shadow painted up to his nose, magatama earrings swaying against sickly pale skin.
Orochimaru leaned against an operating table, "fixing" a man. The victim's hands and feet were bound, mouth gagged—muffled whimpers leaking out in despair.
Orochimaru pressed a syringe in—slowly, steadily injecting cells into the man's chest cavity, watching him "activate," watching him become half-human, half-tree, until the vitality of Hashirama's cells sucked him dry and he died.
Then Orochimaru turned to Danzō, golden slit pupils spilling a hungry curiosity.
"I need living subjects. Stronger ones. More of them. Ideally… ninja."
Danzō didn't answer. He just studied Orochimaru, then said flatly, "Is there hope?"
"Soon." Orochimaru's mouth curled up. "I've found a direction. If I have enough test bodies…"
"I can find the right one—and reproduce Wood Release."
Wood Release—the bloodline that only the First Hokage could wield. The power that let Hashirama suppress the Uchiha, suppress the tailed beasts, and forcibly weld Konoha's clans into one—the foundation of the "God of Shinobi."
With Wood Release came the ability to restrain tailed beasts—to clamp shackles on that unstable "nuclear weapon" and let humans decide when it turned on or off.
"You'd better be telling the truth."
Tap… tap… Cane on floor.
With the answer he wanted, Danzō turned and walked away. At the door he paused, snorting a warning:
"Orochimaru. You'll behave. Hiruzen told you to research Hashirama's cells—he didn't tell you to experiment on living people. If this gets exposed…"
"You know the consequences."
BANG. The lab door slammed shut, sealing the damp and darkness inside.
South Forest.
A training ground near the Uchiha district, toward the southern edge of the village.
There, one big kid and two little ones stood with feet planted wide, swords in hand. Each blade tip carried a hanging basket of stones. They sweated under the dying sun, practicing swings.
Every so often, the oldest would stop, patiently correcting the two younger boys—stance, posture, breathing rhythm—teaching them with the same meticulousness Roy once learned from Urokodaki.
"The sword is an extension of your arm…"
"Length is advantage. If your hands can't reach, your blade reaches for you."
"Your grip is wrong. Back straight, lean slightly forward. Set your base. Eyes level with the tip—make it one line."
"On the downward cut, drive the power into the edge. Maximize impact."
"No—raise your hands higher. Where did your elbow go?"
"I said look forward, not gift your throat to the enemy."
"Cut straight. Straight. Like that you'll snap the blade…"
"One. Down-cut—use force."
"Two. Again."
"Three. Four. If you don't hit ten thousand swings before the sun sets, no dinner."
"Yes!"
Shisui swung with trembling arms. Beside him, Itachi swung too.
Itachi was only three—still not yet four—two years younger than Shisui, but he stayed silent, teeth clenched, stubbornly competing with Shisui.
Roy sat beside them on a smooth-cut boulder, Snow Walk planted in front of him. He pulled out a carving knife like Urokodaki used to, took a block of wood, and began carving a short blade—meant to be a vessel for Divine Script.
According to Divine Script, what a Divine Script "became" depended on the nen user's understanding.
A Strengthening script required deep understanding of enhancement.
A Flame script required deep understanding of the "Fire" branch of nature transformation.
A Binding script required true comprehension of restraint.
An Extension script required understanding of space and stretch…
In other words: it wasn't pure imagination. It still depended on what the user truly knew.
Roy carved, shaved away splinters, and built the idea of Divine Spear in his mind—trying to burn that concept into the wood.
Hummm— Nen light gathered…
Then the wood popped—exploding from a mismatch in Roy's internal model.
Roy frowned, grabbed another block, and kept going—until the system chimed:
[Your follower Uchiha Shisui has completed ten thousand swings. Swordsmanship +10…]
[He provides 1 point of Faith Power…]
Roy glanced over at Shisui, who'd collapsed on the boulder, panting hard. The boy flashed him a grin.
"nii-san, I did it!"
He scooted closer.
Roy sighed and paused his carving, ruffling Shisui's hair.
Shisui closed his eyes like a satisfied cat, then waited beside Roy for Itachi to finish. After a while, he remembered something and leaned in to whisper:
"nii-san… someone came looking for me today. They brought a lot of stuff to my house and said they wanted to be friends. I didn't take anything."
"Why not?" Roy asked.
En expanded. A heart-worm slipped silently into Shisui's heart. Roy caught a flash of the visitor's face—memorized it.
"I think he's a bad guy!" Shisui widened his innocent eyes. "nii-san always says the sky doesn't drop free pies…"
"I don't even know him. Why would he give me stuff?"
Nearby, Itachi's strained counting floated over:
"Seven thousand seven hundred eighty-one… seven thousand seven hundred eighty-two…"
Roy smiled and praised Shisui. "Smart."
"He's probably trying to recruit you as an informant."
"Me?"
"Yes." Roy's gaze drifted past the treetops toward Hokage Rock. His smile sharpened into a cold curve. "When the Uchiha aren't dead, someone can't sleep."
It all started when Tobirama killed Madara's brother—Uchiha Izuna.
"So that's why…" Shisui got angry. His small head drooped like a wilted eggplant.
Village or clan—this curse haunted every gifted Uchiha. Shisui, Itachi…
Roy didn't comfort him. Explanations wouldn't untie that knot.
When Itachi finally finished his ten thousand swings and collapsed like a dead dog, Roy hauled him onto his back, grabbed Shisui's hand, and led them home beneath the sunset.
Step… step…
They passed Hokage Rock.
Shisui suddenly looked up at Hashirama's carved face and asked:
"nii-san… if I were as strong as the First Hokage, could I solve this problem?"
Roy stopped. On his back, Itachi's tiny sleeping breaths rose and fell.
Roy stared up at Hashirama's massive stone visage and slowly shook his head.
"You won't need to."
He resumed walking.
Shisui froze—then almost stumbled as Roy's hand tugged him along. But that grip steadied him, and his heart settled.
"…Right," Shisui thought.
"I still have nii-san."
"As long as nii-san becomes Hokage…"
"Everything will be fine."
That night, wind swept away the day's noise.
Roy brought Shisui home, ate dinner, told Mikoto that Fugaku had been called to the Hokage Tower to work overnight, and returned to his room alone.
Tatami floor. Hard bed. Not as soft as his usual mattress—but comfortable enough.
Soon drowsiness came. Roy relaxed his mind—
And the familiar falling sensation hit.
When he opened his eyes again, he'd passed through the dream tunnel, left the Fire Nation world behind, and returned to the Hunter world.
DONG— 5 a.m. The great bell in central Webis rang, announcing dawn.
Roy sat up. Beside him, Goldie drooled into the blanket, dead asleep. It blinked at him once—
—and Roy grabbed it and plopped it on his head.
He washed up and, as always, went for a morning run.
About half an hour later, he returned. Gotoh had already prepared breakfast and was waiting at the table.
The young butler held his phone. He'd just ended a call.
"Sir," Gotoh said softly, "the master asked when you're coming home."
"The young master is about to be born…"
~~~
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