As the anesthesia faded, Danzō slowly woke, his back pressed against something cold and damp.
A scorched, smoky odor hung in the air, like roasted corn left too long over fire. The bright surgical lights stabbed at eyes that had been steeped in darkness, leaving him dizzy and unfocused. When his vision finally adjusted, he saw the familiar teal ceiling above.
He had nearly died on the battlefield more than once. And every time he returned to Konoha, he ended up lying here, treated by Chihaya Tōru.
Once, during an ambush, he lost an eye, and even his right arm was burned to charcoal. Afraid it would affect his ability to form seals, he listened to Chihaya Tōru's poisonous advice and agreed to surgery without anesthesia.
It nearly killed him from pain.
After that, he rarely took action personally, and he had not suffered such severe injuries again. Now, staring at the ceiling, he felt an odd sense of unfamiliarity.
"Danzō-sama, the surgery was a complete success!"
The overhead light was blocked by an oval shadow. Chihaya Tōru's sickly, gaunt face suddenly shoved itself into Danzō's view. Greasy strands of hair hung down. His voice sounded delighted, yet his face showed no joy at all. Sweat beaded at his temples, and his slightly bulging eyes were webbed with bloodshot veins, unsettling to look at.
Danzō shut his eyes in disgust and pushed him aside.
His body was still half-numb. The right hand that shoved Chihaya Tōru felt stiff and heavy, like a corpse's limb. He used his left arm to prop himself up and sat with difficulty.
"Teacher, how do you feel?"
A crisp child's voice, clear and pleasing, made Danzō open his eyes.
Silver-gray hair caught the light with star-like glints. Dressed in black with pale skin, a blind girl with a face too exquisite to seem real stood before him, a blade strapped across her back as she walked closer.
The disgust vanished from his eyes. Even his tightly knit brows eased.
Chihaya Tōru's ghostlike face could never compare to his own disciple.
Even if he had seized this disciple by force with a Mangekyō, the thought that she had been stolen from Hiruzen Sarutobi made the satisfaction double, then double again.
"Mhm. I'll test it."
Perhaps the anesthesia had been stronger than he realized. Even he did not notice how much softer his voice sounded than usual.
Chihaya Tōru, who had been shoved aside while trying to butter up his patient, watched the scene of master and disciple, then glanced at Aburame Ryōma standing at the door with the cane in his hands, loyalty written into every line of his posture.
Chihaya Tōru curled his lips and stayed silent.
Sooner or later, Danzō would be played to death by his obedient disciple.
And it had nothing to do with him.
Whoever won, whoever lost, he would still be doing research in the medical division. No difference at all. As long as he did not end up splashed head to toe in blood, he would count it as a blessing.
Having sorted through all those calculations, Chihaya Tōru quietly stepped back half a pace, eyes lowered, mind settled, returning to his role as a scarecrow.
Danzō had no energy to spare on Chihaya Tōru's "hideous face." Right now, he was testing his brand-new right arm.
Perhaps the limb had soaked in cultivation fluid too long. The muscle tissue was stiff, and the skin was as cold as a corpse.
Danzō did not care. He flexed it a few times to accelerate blood flow. Warm blood returned, the stiffness dissolved quickly, and what followed was the intoxicating sense of power.
His gaze sharpened as he rotated his wrist and flexed his fingers.
Inside the arm, the chakra core of Hashirama cells seemed to ignite, casting a green shadow. That vitality-rich chakra surged, repairing the junctions at his wrist and shoulder, while also gnawing its way inward toward his body.
The ten protruding Sharingan embedded along the arm looked like a chameleon's eyes, tugging and rolling inside their fleshy sockets. One glance was enough to trigger visceral nausea.
The Sharingan suppressed the invasive hunger of Hashirama cells. The vast Hashirama chakra inside the arm, greater than all of Danzō's own chakra combined, was being devoured and converted into dōjutsu power, creating an even heavier pressure, an even tighter lock.
And yet, even then, Hashirama chakra still tried to invade deeper into his body. If he ever lost control, it might turn Danzō into a lush, towering tree.
The bandaged right eye opened.
A windmill-like Mangekyō spun to life.
An eerie, invisible Yin Release force instantly suppressed the Hashirama cells and continued drawing life force. The dim Mangekyō regained its crimson hue at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The invasive force of Hashirama cells was compressed to the absolute limit, like a bottled spring pierced by needles. Unless he squeezed it with deliberate pressure, chakra could barely leak out at all.
"Perfect."
Danzō flexed his fingers again and again, occasionally forming seals in coordination with his left hand. His satisfaction with the new arm was obvious.
"Konome Taketori, your medical ninjutsu is far better than Chihaya Tōru's."
When she slices you into pieces, I hope you can say the same thing then.
The "only loyal subordinate" who had just been dragged into comparison turned his face away. He could not offend either side. All he could do was swallow the insult and stew in silence.
"It's because Doctor Chihaya taught me well," Konome Taketori said, choosing to spare Chihaya Tōru's pride.
"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare. It's your talent that's extraordinary…"
Chihaya Tōru waved his hands repeatedly. His life was still held in Aburame Ryōma's grip. He had already decided the two were on the same side. How could he still act arrogant and casual like before?
Danzō narrowed his long eyes, mildly puzzled by Chihaya Tōru's sudden humility.
When did this man change?
Was he not always boasting he was the most skilled medical ninja besides Tsunade?
Danzō had the nagging feeling that something had happened mid-surgery.
And that scorched odor in the air…
"Danzō-sama!"
Before Danzō could think further, Aburame Ryōma stepped forward, presenting the cane with both hands.
Danzō's thoughts broke. He draped his half-worn robe properly over himself and reached for it with habit, using his right hand.
The moment he gripped the cane, a strange itching crawled across his palm. The Sharingan there bulged and writhed like a thick red parasitic worm.
Right.
He had forgotten.
Holding a cane with a Sharingan embedded in his palm was inconvenient. A little too much pressure might damage a precious eye.
And this arm would need to be sealed away in the future anyway.
First, to prevent Hashirama cells from continuing to erode his body.
Second, to avoid the Hyūga clan's Byakugan observation exposing the secret.
Looks like his habits would need to change.
He stepped off the operating table while thinking, shifting the cane to his left hand. With Ryōma's interruption, the earlier unease was tossed out of his mind.
"Ryōma, I'm going to Chamber One to train and adjust to this arm. Unless it's urgent, don't come looking for me."
"Yes!"
Aburame Ryōma lowered his head deeply, as always. No one could notice the change in him.
Whoosh!
The door slid open. The red surgical light switched to a pale green.
Danzō awkwardly supported himself with the cane in his left hand and walked out slowly.
From the shadows, the Nara brothers slid out from the wall. Outside, many Root ninja formed an escort, surrounding Danzō as they quickly left the research division.
"Hah…"
Chihaya Tōru finally exhaled.
With Danzō present, he had not even dared to breathe too loudly. He was terrified that if the two sides suddenly clashed, he, a medical ninja with no combat ability, would be casually erased like an extra.
"Konome Taketori-sama…"
"Same as before."
Konome Taketori's gaze was cold as she looked at Chihaya Tōru. If Ryōma had not interrupted earlier, Chihaya Tōru's abrupt behavior would have been enough to make Danzō suspicious.
"Yes. Fine."
Chihaya Tōru knew he had slipped. His expression snapped back into its usual arrogant defiance.
"Get out."
"Right away."
The "arrogant" Chihaya Tōru bowed and scraped as he hurried out. Seeing that Ryōma and Konome Taketori seemed to have things to discuss, he even thoughtfully pulled the door shut.
"Before the operating room door opens, no one comes in. Also, you lot, come with me to the underground storage."
"Yes!"
The doctors and nurses outside answered in unison. Footsteps and voices drifted away.
In the silent operating room, only Konome Taketori and Aburame Ryōma remained.
"No one's here now. If you want to ask, ask."
She swept the room with her Byakugan to ensure there were no hidden listeners. Then she tilted her chin toward the question marks practically floating above Ryōma's head, signaling he could speak freely.
"Why didn't you report me to Danzō?" Ryōma asked, his eyes complicated.
The moment he chose to strike at Danzō, he had prepared for death.
When Konome Taketori broke free and burned the Insect Sphere, he had fallen into despair, ready to stop resisting.
He never expected her to let him go so lightly, or to threaten Chihaya Tōru on his behalf, pulling him back from the edge of death.
What was her goal?
"You shouldn't die so cheaply," Konome Taketori said flatly.
Ryōma's gaze hardened, his voice resolute. "As long as Danzō dies, my life doesn't matter."
"You can't kill him."
"If it weren't for you…"
"He also has Izanagi."
At the familiar technique, Ryōma's eyes flew open. In his mind flashed the immortal mystery figure from Raikōzan, the one who revived even after Konome Taketori tore him apart, even after reducing him to slurry.
So that was why she stopped him.
"After I came back, I deliberately checked Root's archives. That technique requires hand seals. He was anesthetized, unconscious, and missing an arm. There's no way he could use Izanagi!"
Ryōma's agitation was visible. Even now he regretted it. Missing that perfect chance tore at him.
Konome Taketori did not get angry.
Uchiha secret techniques were truly bizarre. If she had not known the original Naruto story, she might not have thought of this method either.
"When you were checking the files, did you see a technique called Transcription Seal?"
"Transcription Seal?"
Ryōma's eyes shifted. Yes. When he reviewed Uchiha techniques, he had seen it. Something about sealing a dōjutsu into a Sharingan, then having it automatically activate when conditions were met.
Could it be…
He jolted, realization striking.
"It's exactly what you're thinking," Konome Taketori said calmly. "Danzō sealed Izanagi into a three-tomoe Sharingan. Your assassination would accomplish nothing. At best, you'd only burn through one Sharingan."
Ryōma fell silent.
Konome Taketori knew he had understood, and continued.
"I've answered your questions. Now it's my turn."
She stared at him.
"Why did you want to kill Danzō?"
"A mission," Ryōma said, his voice bitter.
That once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had been a trap. He could hardly accept it.
And what he accepted even less was this: Danzō had been hard enough to kill with just one Sharingan. Now he could cast Izanagi ten times, and with the Mangekyō, even more.
Killing him again would be like climbing to the sky with bare hands.
"A mission?" Konome Taketori's expression tightened. Was there someone behind Ryōma?
"Who gave the order?"
"Danzō."
"?"
"There's a Tongue Curse Eradication Seal. I can't explain the details," Ryōma said, as if he could read her confusion. He wanted to elaborate, but could not. Being able to say Danzō's name was already his limit.
Konome Taketori nodded slowly. She did not fully grasp the tangled history between them, but Ryōma's sincerity was plain enough. She did not need to pry further. As long as it served her goals, that was enough.
"Now that Danzō has the Sharingan arm, protected by Izanagi, you'll never kill him again."
"Say what you mean."
"I'll help you kill Danzō."
Konome Taketori's face remained emotionless, as if killing Danzō were no harder than crushing a speck of dust.
She had the confidence to say it.
Reverse Eight Gates was on the verge of completion. After that, she would no longer be trapped by bloodline sickness or chakra limitations.
The sky would be wide enough for birds, the sea broad enough for fish. Becoming the next Shinobi God was only a matter of time.
Her gaze had never been on Danzō.
It was fixed on the empty throne of heaven itself. She hunted the legends of the Sage of Six Paths and the progenitor of the Ōtsutsuki.
Danzō was nothing.
"What are your conditions?" Ryōma asked, nodding. He did not doubt her ability. He had planned to recruit her, yet somehow he was the one being recruited instead.
"I want you to manage Root for me," Konome Taketori said openly, making no effort to hide her ambition. "Serve me."
"…No."
Ryōma hesitated, then refused firmly.
"Root exists to clear obstacles for Konoha, to ensure its prosperity. We hide in the dark without names, and we can use any means necessary to complete missions.
Danzō turned Root into his private army. That violates Root's founding purpose, which is why I'm trying to correct it.
If I help you take control of Root, then it becomes no different from Danzō. What meaning would my actions have?"
So it was for Konoha.
Konome Taketori finally understood why Ryōma wanted Danzō dead.
That made things easier.
"Then let me put it another way," she said.
"You'll control Root and continue guarding Konoha from the shadows. But in your spare time, you'll handle certain errands for me."
"How about that?"
Silence fell.
Ryōma's face showed hesitation. Konome Taketori knew he was one last push away.
"Danzō wants to use me to assassinate Hiruzen-sensei. With that Mangekyō, I can't guarantee I'll be able to control what happens. If Konoha falls into chaos, other villages will strike while the fire's burning. The consequences would be catastrophic."
"How do you know…?"
Ryōma jolted.
He had learned Danzō's right-eye Mangekyō dōjutsu from Uchiha Itachi. How did Konome Taketori know such a secret?
Konome Taketori gave him a faint, knowing smile and said nothing.
She could hardly tell him she read it in a manga.
Ryōma struggled for a long moment, then finally nodded in resignation.
As long as Danzō lived, Root would never return to the right path.
No matter what, Konome Taketori was better than Danzō.
And with her identity as the Third Hokage's last disciple, Root taking orders from her was not unreasonable.
Done.
A faint light flickered in Konome Taketori's eyes.
With Aburame Ryōma's help, Root was already in her hands.
Danzō would die without ever realizing it.
He had used Kotoamatsukami to drag her into Root, only to end up handing over the organization he had built with his entire life.
He tried to steal a chicken and lost the rice.
In high spirits, Konome Taketori and Aburame Ryōma sat close and discussed their concrete plan to seize Root completely. The operating room stayed bright for a long time, the lights never dimming.
Time flew.
In the blink of an eye, three days passed.
That night, the Yang Release Konome Taketori, as usual, sat cross-legged atop the Senju Tree and drew chakra.
Suddenly, her body went rigid.
She opened her eyes.
Joy exploded across her face, impossible to hide.
In the illusory chakra core, the purple spiral stretching into the distance began to sink, slowly descending.
Her original body's voice rose from deep within her heart.
"Reverse Eight Gates is complete. Return at once!"
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