Drip.
Drip.
The wind carried the metallic stench of rust.
Scarlet blood fell from the sky, splattering onto the yellowed leaves below and blooming into jagged brown stains.
"Her chakra fluctuations are weaker. She's hurt!"
The Genjutsu ANBU clasped his hands together and stared up at the silhouette in the treetops. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, there was a thread of suppressed delight in his voice.
The illusion he relied on had been shattered in a single second. The backlash had left his skull throbbing like it was splitting apart.
And because sensory-type shinobi were hypersensitive to chakra, even though the target's total reserves weren't huge, that strange purple chakra that shone with an unnatural luster had been crushing his mind with pressure.
Now, finally, that pressure eased.
In the end, their coordination had wounded the enemy. The injury wasn't severe, but it proved she wasn't as invincible as they'd imagined.
An enemy with "no weaknesses" was only an illusion created by overwhelmingly ferocious taijutsu.
"She's just a paper tiger."
The Earth Release ANBU's low voice rolled through the air. The remaining eight said nothing, but their heavy breathing noticeably loosened.
Clearly, the sight of three special jōnin dying in the opening exchange had shaken them to the core.
They weren't afraid of death.
They were afraid of dying for nothing.
Root were nameless heroes who surrendered everything for Konoha from within the darkness.
They could not become insects, crushed without meaning, their lives erased into insignificance.
Above them, on the canopy, Konome Taketori looked down at the ANBU like ants and thought in silence.
As a shadow clone, her actual combat strength wasn't much weaker than the original. Especially now that the "bone" of her Dead Bone Pulse couldn't be used temporarily, the only real gap between her and the original was endurance and defense.
She was an elite jōnin. Those three were only special jōnin, a full two tiers below her.
At that level, numbers could be ignored, at least for a while.
Back in Kirigakure, the Mist Crows and Blood Hounds had driven her into a corner. Now, she could erase them with a casual flick.
Of course, ninja ranks were never perfectly strict. Terrain, specialty, compatibility, and countless other variables could produce upsets and cross-tier victories.
But those exceptions didn't exist for Konome.
As one of the rare "all-rounders" in the shinobi world, only she had the right to counter others. Trying to counter her was nearly impossible.
She balanced lightly on the thick trunk.
Drip, drip.
Sticky blood slid down the sole of her black boot and fell in slow drops.
A "souvenir" from the ANBU she'd killed with a single kick.
If this were the original body, she would have washed her shoe clean with Water Release.
But she couldn't afford that luxury.
She'd spent chakra during the day attending class and practicing medical ninjutsu. A ridiculous amount of it had been wasted on that carp. Then came the lightning-fast ambush just now.
Less than a third of her chakra remained.
She could no longer move with that effortless ease.
If chakra fell too low, the shadow clone would disperse on its own. Before that happened, she needed to pry out the enemy's purpose for the original body.
"Doctor Chihaya," Konome called down sharply, "can you tell me why these ANBU are attacking me?"
The ANBU who treated comrades' lives like dirt were obviously Root.
Chihaya Tooru was clearly Root as well.
And Konome was certain she had never provoked Danzō Shimura.
Storming Root to steal Hashirama's cells was still only a plan in her mind. By all logic, Root shouldn't be moving against her yet.
Chihaya Tooru's lips curled. He pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on with almost ceremonial care.
"A certain lord is very impressed with you," he said. "He wants you to join our organization."
"ANBU?"
"No. You might not have heard of us." His voice was calm, almost proud. "We are a branch within ANBU. Root."
The moment he said the name, several Root members unconsciously straightened their spines. Above their heads, a sickly glow of pride flared.
Konome nodded slowly.
That half-mad devotion wasn't something other groups could imitate.
So her guess had been right. These people were Root. They answered to Danzō, and they wanted her in.
But she still couldn't understand Danzō's logic.
When Root recruited talent, who opened with an execution attempt?
Shouldn't the process begin with persuasion, then pressure, then threats and temptations, and only at the very end force?
Why did they skip everything and jump straight to the final step with her?
"Your invitation style is… special."
Chihaya Tooru gave a thin laugh and nudged his glasses up with a middle finger.
"Root's standards are strict. So we're giving you a little quiz."
"I never agreed to join your bizarre organization."
"Whether you join or not is irrelevant to me," he said flatly. "We're following orders."
Konome frowned, quietly probing their intent.
Defense was simpler than offense. She would drag this out, conserve chakra, and collect information.
Every secret technique revealed here meant one more layer of safety later, when she truly went to Root for Hashirama's cells.
Konome narrowed her Byakugan and turned her focus behind her.
In the distance, a massive chakra presence surged into view.
It burned like a torch, blazing, yet steeped in a chilling, eerie darkness.
The newcomer moved fast. Within a few breaths, he was closing on the battlefield.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
A cane struck the ground again and again.
Each impact was slow, heavy, cold. Fallen leaves shattered helplessly beneath it.
The sound was nothing like Konome's own cane tapping, which was quick and crisp.
Just hearing that signature rhythm, the dead-eyed Root shinobi below abruptly ignited with fervor. Even with a terrifying enemy overhead, they dropped to one knee and faced the newcomer's direction.
Even the ever-mysterious Chihaya Tooru lowered his head slightly in respect.
Konome turned to face the real master.
An old man in a gray-black kimono approached, leaning on his cane.
He wasn't tall, but the physique hidden beneath the fabric was thick and powerful. Short brown hair. A forked scar carved into his chin. Narrow eyes fixed on Konome standing atop the canopy.
His left eye was dark and bottomless.
His right eye was crimson.
A black, four-bladed pinwheel spun inside it.
That was…
Shisui Uchiha's Kotoamatsukami.
Konome's eyes widened.
Behind the black cloth, her Byakugan flared, and in an instant, her vision drowned in red.
"You got hit by Danzō's Kotoamatsukami?"
Hatake Clan Training Ground.
The sun was nearly gone, and the light slanted low, casting two dim shadows across the bare training field.
Konome stared at the Yang Release shadow clone in front of her.
The clone's originally ash-gray pupils, identical to hers, had become a spinning four-bladed pinwheel. The whites of its eyes were stained blood-red.
The Byakugan surged.
Inside the clone's head, an abnormal mass of Yin Release chakra had seized the center of its brain like a cuckoo stealing a nest. It spread eerie, transparent spikes like a spider's legs, piercing into the brain without causing visible damage.
Those spikes looked more like projections than substance.
Given that a shadow clone would dispel instantly if "operated on," there was no way an eye transplant had happened.
This was, without question, the ultimate genjutsu said to rewrite one's will.
Kotoamatsukami.
"The moment that Root guy reported I was injured," the Yang Release clone said, lightly stroking its eye socket with a finger, "Danzō decided I was the original. He didn't say a word. He just used Kotoamatsukami."
It tried to keep a straight face, but the slight upward curl of its lips exposed its satisfaction.
Konome, still stunned, couldn't help but laugh.
A shadow clone, and yet it had baited out the technique called the strongest genjutsu.
"By the way," Konome asked, "why are your eyes stuck in the Kotoamatsukami pattern?"
"I'm not completely sure," the Yang Release clone said, tilting its head. "Maybe because I'm only chakra. I'm not organic life.
Kotoamatsukami keeps trying to 'detect' my will, but it has nowhere to grab.
It can't rewrite me, and it isn't meeting resistance that would consume it. So it stays in this strange 'active' state."
"So it bugged out," Konome summarized.
Then her expression tightened. "Danzō really is decisive. What does his Kotoamatsukami actually do?"
The Yang Release clone immediately sobered.
"That's what I wanted to tell you. Danzō's Kotoamatsukami is very different from the one in Itachi Uchiha's hand.
First, the range is long. When I got hit, the straight-line distance was at least fifty meters. That's farther than many elemental techniques.
If you ever fight him up close, you have to be careful.
More importantly, the activation speed is fast, and there's no 'attack trajectory.'"
"No trajectory?"
"Yes." The clone's crimson Mangekyō turned toward the sky as it replayed the moment. Then it spoke with certainty.
"There was absolutely no flight path. With Lightning Chakra Mode reflexes and the Byakugan's perception, if anything traveled through space, I would have seen it.
The instant his Mangekyō locked onto me, a mass of Yin Release chakra appeared directly inside my brain.
No time to resist."
"A mechanism-type technique," Konome murmured. "Like Shadow Imitation."
She nodded, face heavy.
More than fifty meters of range, plus a simple hit condition. Unless she became fast enough that the Mangekyō couldn't lock onto her at all, she couldn't dodge it.
"This doesn't require eye contact, right?"
"I've been wearing an eye covering," the clone replied. "I could see him. He couldn't see me. That shouldn't count as eye contact."
Konome clicked her tongue. "So it's basically a half-lock-on."
She thought hard, but couldn't find a clean way to avoid it.
The only answer seemed to be the ugly one.
Use shadow clones to bait the technique.
"It's fine," the Yang Release clone said, smiling. "Even if the hit is simple, Danzō's Kotoamatsukami isn't as absolute as Itachi's."
"It didn't even fully activate," Konome said. "You can tell what it does?"
The clone blinked. The pinwheel rotated slowly in its blood-red eyes.
"It's lodged in my brain. I can't 'use' it, but I can probe key information.
Besides, if it were useless, why would I keep it?
If I wasn't afraid that dispersing would lose this precious Kotoamatsukami chakra, do you think I'd bother explaining all this?
I'd just let you view my memory."
Konome waved a hand helplessly. "Fine. You've done a great service. Continue."
The clone stopped showing off.
"Danzō's Kotoamatsukami isn't permanent. The Yin Release chakra stored in your brain will follow the caster's command and keep 'correcting' your will.
That correction isn't a forced brand burned into your thoughts. It disguises itself as your inner voice, subtly steering your decisions. The more you resist internally, the weaker the correction becomes.
Once the chakra is exhausted, or once the target realizes they've been caught in genjutsu, the effect will automatically loosen. But its power leaves residue.
If you don't purge the Yin Release chakra from your mind, then later, as long as someone activates it with ocular power, it can still quietly manipulate your will."
"That makes sense."
Konome had always wondered why Danzō would waste such a precious technique on her instead of simply controlling Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Now she finally understood.
A short-term manipulation wouldn't work on Hiruzen, and it would expose the fact that Danzō stole Shisui's Mangekyō.
And the Hyūga clan's Byakugan was an obvious countermeasure.
Kotoamatsukami was powerful, but it wasn't truly unbeatable.
If it were, Danzō would have become the Fifth Hokage long ago.
"So Danzō just let you come back like this?" Konome asked.
"That's the other thing I needed to tell you."
The Yang Release clone slowly stuck out its tongue.
On the pink surface was a black striped pattern, like an I Ching trigram.
"That's the Cursed Tongue Eradication Technique."
"You joined Root?"
The clone's will was identical to hers, and yet Konome was still stunned by her own outrageous maneuver.
"I'm chakra mimicking life," the clone said calmly. "My brain and body are half-real illusions.
Genjutsu that rewrites will, mind-reading, even sealing curses that restrict the body, none of it works on me.
Everything Danzō did was pointless.
As for joining Root…"
The Yang Release clone gazed at the sunset, its pale skin tinted orange by the dying light, expression distant, as if it had returned to that moment.
A remote, wrecked forest.
Dry leaves spiraled down, covering blood-stained red foliage.
In the crater, mud and blood wrapped broken bone and kunai. Nine black shadows knelt on one knee, solemn and feverish, facing the old man with the cane.
A shadow dropped from above.
Boom.
The ground collapsed into two new pits. The shockwave kicked up leaves that had just been buried and flung them outward.
Danzō leaned on his cane with one hand, staring coldly into the dust at the blurred figure within.
A Wind Release ANBU kneeled nearby and abruptly became a gust, flashing to Danzō's front, exhaling Wind Release to blow the scattered leaves and dust back.
Hum.
The figure in the pit slowly straightened.
Wind collided with wind, tearing and shredding. Dust and leaves split cleanly down the middle, then were chewed into fragments by the gale, unable to advance or retreat, finally settling in a curved arc on the ground.
Konome stood at the center of the circle.
Behind the black cloth, her Mangekyō and his narrow single eye faced each other.
Three four-bladed pinwheels spun in unison.
When the dust finally cleared, Chihaya Tooru stepped forward quickly, angling his body as he took position half a step behind Danzō's left side, loyal to the bone.
"Lord Danzō, Konome Taketori has been brought."
"Well done, Chihaya."
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