A calm, clockwork routine seemed to loop endlessly.
In the blink of an eye, Konome Taketori's main body had been in seclusion for a full month. There was a stretch in the middle where she truly couldn't hold on anymore and had to rest for several days. After that, she even cut her shadow clones by nearly half.
Even so, when you did the math, it still added up to more than two years of accumulated effort.
Of course, Shadow Clones weren't a time chamber. That "two years" was only a raw calculation. In terms of real cultivation results, you probably had to halve it again.
But even then, it was still a full year.
And after such a long time, Reverse Eight Gates still wasn't complete.
That meant a new bottleneck had appeared, one she couldn't resolve yet.
The Yang outer shell built with dōjutsu power could already filter out impurities from external life force. The reason the technique still wouldn't stabilize came down to one brutal word:
Efficiency.
If the filter was too strong, it blocked most of the life force outside, leaving her with only a pitiful trickle each time.
If the filter was too weak, impurities leaked through, and her main body risked death.
Konome Taketori's ideal Reverse Eight Gates was a perfect state: impurities filtered out cleanly, while pure life force passed through without resistance.
To reach that state, she needed time.
And she needed bodies.
Most ninjutsu involving human experimentation didn't start with live tests. Usually, testing only began near the end, when the jutsu was almost finished and needed safety verification.
So, for this stretch of days, the animals of the Forest of Death suffered.
Konome Taketori repeatedly extracted life force from different animals, filtered it, then transferred it into other animals, trying to deduce the most perfect structure.
And now, that perfect state was only a foot away.
Maybe today.
Maybe tomorrow.
Reverse Eight Gates would finally be completed.
When the good news came from her main body, the anxious knot in Konome Taketori's chest finally loosened a little.
She knew it wasn't something impatience could fix.
But after so long without seeing the finish line, anxiety still seeped in, unavoidable.
These days, she walked through Root with a cold face and killing intent rolling off her like frost. The doctors and nurses were so frightened they barely dared to speak above a whisper, afraid that one wrong sound might earn them a trip into pieces.
Word of her Raikōzan achievements had spread through Root, too.
Someone had even given her a nickname in the shadows.
The Shredder.
When Konome Taketori heard it, she cut that person into five pieces, then used medical ninjutsu to stitch them back together slowly, like assembling blocks.
Strangely enough, the pressure eased after that.
And the ugly nickname never reached her ears again.
Unfortunately…
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the Root corridor. Masked shinobi heard that signature sound and immediately stopped, lowering their heads to wait. Only when the footsteps passed and faded far away did they dare move again.
Carrying Samehada on her shoulder, Konome Taketori glanced back at the overly cautious shinobi behind her and sighed silently as she stood before the Medical Division.
Ever since she'd "shredded" the doctor who made up her nickname, the Medical Division staff treated her like this.
Later, the guards nearby heard some ridiculous version of the story and started copying the same terrified posture.
She wasn't a murder maniac.
But she had no idea how to argue with people who were too scared to even let rumors reach her ears.
Gulp.
Konome Taketori pushed open the Medical Division's door.
The cold air that washed over her eased her restlessness, but the moment she saw Danzō, Aburame Ryōma, and Chihaya Tōru standing in the center of the division, her brow tightened again.
The entire division was unnervingly quiet. The doctors and nurses stayed obediently tucked inside the "honeycomb" workspaces. Outside, Root shinobi stood guard every few steps, motionless.
What was going on?
Why was Danzō here?
Was he here to demand progress on Sharingan evolution?
Her main body was in a critical stage. She'd even put Kotoamatsukami research on hold. Every day, she was basically soaking in the basement.
As for the Sharingan evolution experiments… she hadn't done a single real step.
Danzō and Chihaya Tōru were discussing something. Their focus was so tight they didn't notice her enter. Only Aburame Ryōma, standing at Danzō's side, sensed her chakra. From afar, he gave her a small nod as greeting.
Konome Taketori nodded back.
She still didn't know why Aburame Ryōma intended to betray Danzō.
But an enemy's enemy was a friend.
Sooner or later, she would become Danzō's enemy. One extra ally meant one less danger.
After the silent exchange, Konome Taketori headed straight for the basement with Samehada.
"Wait, Konome Taketori."
Chihaya Tōru spotted her and brightened, calling out immediately.
"Danzō-sama wants to see you."
Konome Taketori had no choice but to stop. She turned toward Danzō.
"There's still no result on Sharingan evolution. It'll need more time."
"It's not about the Sharingan."
Chihaya Tōru subtly avoided Danzō's gaze and winked at her.
As the only one who truly understood what Konome Taketori was doing, he knew perfectly well she hadn't researched Sharingan evolution at all.
And the reason he wasn't reporting her wasn't complicated.
He hadn't been researching it either.
The Sharingan evolution project was an extra, a side quest. The real point was to validate the theory of Yang giving rise to Yin.
Both of them knew three-tomoe eyes rarely evolved into Mangekyō. Neither of them took Danzō's Mangekyō army fantasy seriously.
Konome Taketori hid in the basement drawing chakra from the Senju Tree.
Meanwhile, Chihaya Tōru spent his days trying to fuse Sharingan power with Senju cells, attempting to suppress the cells' tendency toward self-destruction.
Wood Release and Mangekyō had nothing to do with him.
He only cared whether he could inherit Senju Hashirama's endless life force and reach the ultimate dream: immortality.
As for Sharingan experiments… Danzō didn't understand the science anyway. They each got what they wanted and scammed a little research material. Nothing shameful about that.
It was their unspoken understanding.
Catching Chihaya Tōru's signal, Konome Taketori, who had just exchanged a silent nod with Ryōma, "met eyes" with Chihaya Tōru through her blindfold and walked over as if nothing had happened.
Old Danzō didn't notice the quiet collusion. When his gaze fell on Konome Taketori, his left eye held a barely concealed admiration.
A genius.
Brilliant.
Ruthless.
And painfully hardworking.
Though he hadn't come to the Medical Division, Aburame Ryōma delivered Konome Taketori's reports to him with punctual precision.
The reports claimed she'd been working herself to the bone for the Sharingan evolution research.
Not going home.
Not going to the Academy.
Ignoring Hiruzen Sarutobi entirely.
Running to the lab every day.
She'd even slept in the basement at night for several days straight.
For the sake of his grand Sharingan evolution plan, she'd poured out her blood and soul.
At first, Danzō hadn't believed it.
Ryōma wasn't a professional researcher. Perhaps he simply couldn't understand what she was doing. So Danzō asked Chihaya Tōru and Tsubaki-hime instead. Both were medical-nin types, far more qualified to judge laboratory work than Ryōma.
That question only made things stranger.
The three answers weren't identical.
Ryōma's report was mostly about Konome Taketori's effort, with an implication that her chakra might have increased again.
Chihaya Tōru threw out a series of incomprehensible research terms, praised her talent, and took the chance to ask for new test subjects.
Tsubaki-hime offered no excessive flattery, but spoke firmly: Konome Taketori truly was researching Sharingan evolution. She wasn't sleeping in the basement, she was researching all night.
That was when Danzō fully believed it.
All three were Root veterans.
All three were people he trusted.
The slight differences between their accounts meant they hadn't compared stories beforehand, and the overall content matched.
Which meant the truth was exactly that.
Konome Taketori was devoting herself to Sharingan evolution. Her request for Senju Tree access wasn't hiding some other scheme.
That kind of devotion pleased him immensely.
He found himself liking this disciple more and more.
"What is it?"
Noticing the relatively bright mood colors hovering over Danzō's head, Konome Taketori felt a flicker of confusion. Where was this good mood coming from? Sharingan evolution hadn't moved at all.
Was there some good news she didn't know?
Danzō was already used to her cold way of speaking. In his good mood, he didn't mind.
"Yesterday, the Sharingan on the arm we received from Orochimaru have all been evolved by Chihaya into three-tomoe Sharingan. Their suppression effect on Hashirama cells is excellent. We can proceed with the transplant."
His voice carried excitement. He'd clearly been waiting a long time.
But Konome Taketori froze.
It took that long?
Under normal circumstances, pushing two-tomoe into three-tomoe should only take two to three hours. Even ten eyes should take no more than three days.
It had been a full month.
How could they only now be done?
She tilted her head slightly toward Chihaya Tōru and caught his calm expression. He blinked twice, as if a speck of dust had gotten into his eye.
Don't talk nonsense. I didn't mention your side at all.
He didn't say a word, but Konome Taketori could practically hear the message.
Understood.
Konome Taketori nodded faintly and said nothing more, watching Danzō's pleased face while forcing down the urge to smile.
Danzō noticed their tiny exchange. But given their "hard work" lately, he only frowned and continued.
"I've decided to transplant that arm. You will be the lead surgeon."
"…Me?"
Konome Taketori pointed at herself, disbelief written all over her face.
Chihaya Tōru stepped forward and took over.
"Your surgical skill is better than mine. Your chakra control is far beyond mine as well. If Danzō-sama is transplanting the arm, he should have the best surgeon to reduce the risk to the lowest possible point."
"In my opinion, you're more suitable than I am."
Konome Taketori looked at Danzō.
The man's face was shadowed. He stared at her. The emotions above his head released a thin thread of goodwill, mixed with something deeper: suspicion and probing.
Letting her operate on him was a clear signal of trust.
Once he lay on the operating table, his life would be in her hands. That was a level of trust reserved for true inner-circle confidants.
But it was also a test.
If she showed any abnormal movement during the operation, Root would swarm in and tear her apart.
"…Fine."
She realized she couldn't refuse.
If she rejected this "trust," it would be tearing the mask off.
And with Samehada, she wasn't afraid of Danzō, but she still needed the Senju Tree's chakra to feed her main body. Root's Sharingan resources and experimental materials were also things she couldn't abandon yet.
Seeing her hesitation, Danzō spoke slowly.
"Don't be nervous. Chihaya says your medical ninjutsu is exceptional. In chakra control, you're not inferior to Tsunade. Just perform as you normally do."
So if something goes wrong, it means you weren't performing "normally," huh?
Konome Taketori rolled her eyes inwardly. The words sounded like comfort, but the threat was threaded through them, perfectly in character for that old viper.
At that moment…
The operating room doors slid open.
Three nurses in green stepped out.
"Danzō-sama, the operating room has been disinfected. We can begin at any time."
One of the nurses flinched when she saw Konome Taketori, then lowered her head quickly, not daring to look again.
Even with a mask on, Konome Taketori recognized her instantly.
The young nurse who'd mistaken her for a test subject when she first arrived.
Her first surgery had been a major one: limb reattachment. The memory of that day was still sharp.
Danzō didn't even glance at the nurses. He only lifted his chin at Konome Taketori and Chihaya Tōru, silently asking if they were ready.
"Ready."
They answered in unison.
"Then begin."
Danzō glanced at the cane in his right hand and strode toward the operating room without hesitation. His hunger for Wood Release and Sharingan power was practically visible.
After years of experiments, after pouring in staggering sums of money and effort, he was finally seeing results.
He couldn't restrain his excitement.
The medical staff hurried aside, waiting along both sides of the doorway. They clearly weren't qualified to participate.
Konome Taketori and Chihaya Tōru followed behind Danzō and entered quickly.
The operating lamp outside lit up.
The staff waited tensely in the corridor, ready to rush in if anything went wrong.
The ceiling lights washed down, throwing shadows across the floor and walls.
Black and red.
Red and black.
Two pairs of eyes hid in the wall's shadow.
Two-tomoe Sharingan spun rapidly, watching every fluctuation of chakra inside the Medical Division.
With two elite jōnin in the room and guards outside, the operation's security had reached the highest standard possible.
Inside the operating room…
Aburame Ryōma held Danzō's cane and stood near the door, his deep purple eyes fixed on the old man lying on the table.
Danzō's perpetually unchanged kimono was half removed and draped at his waist. His upper body was lean and hardened, marked by three terrifying scars. The bandages wrapped around his right arm were slowly unspooled, revealing skin burned by Fire Release, black-brown and ruined.
It was an old injury from an ambush during a rescue mission.
The purple in Ryōma's gaze deepened as he slipped back into memory.
"Cut the arm off from here."
A crisp female voice snapped him awake.
Ryōma lifted his eyes.
Konome Taketori was measuring the length of Danzō's arm with a soft tape, then comparing it to the Sharingan arm that had just been removed from its culture fluid. Finally, she drew a black line at the base of Danzō's arm.
Chihaya Tōru put on gloves, sterilized the tools over an alcohol flame, then narrowed his eyes at the line she'd drawn. He nodded in approval and handed the blade to her.
Konome Taketori raised the blade, examined it for a moment, and was about to start immediately.
"Wait."
Danzō, lying flat, propped himself up with his left hand and sat up. His expression was cold as he stopped the two surgeons who were about to cut him open like it was lunch.
"What is it, Danzō-sama?"
Thinking something was wrong, Chihaya Tōru stepped forward at once.
"Anesthetic first."
"…Anesthetic doesn't work well."
"Use it."
The aged voice carried an unquestionable weight.
Chihaya Tōru and Konome Taketori exchanged a look, both feeling helpless in the face of this patient's stubborn insistence.
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