"Let's just skip the walk. We're flying back."
After the swift and brutal dispatch of the Root operatives, the group's mood had sobered. Raimon had no interest in lingering over the mess. Fortunately, he maintained a Hiraishin marker in the courtyard of his old Konoha home, and his Edo Tensei form granted him chakra to burn. In two quick, sequential hiraishin-flashes of displaced air, he transported all five of them directly to the familiar, if slightly dusty, yard.
"Alright, Jiraiya. Scram."
The moment they materialized, Raimon delivered the order with all the warmth of a mid-winter frost. Tsunade, of course, would stay. Naruto, practically family, would too.
"Eh?! Wait, hold on!" Jiraiya sputtered, gesturing at the clearly empty house. "You've got rooms! It's the middle of the night! Where am I supposed to go? Show some respect for your elder, you brat! I'm your little brother's sensei!"
The injustice of it all stung—not only was he being kicked out, but his own (admittedly long-shot) romantic hopes had just been thoroughly demolished by a walking historical document.
"You have two choices," Raimon said, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. "Walk out on your own, or I send you out. Your pick."
"I'm not going anywhere! I'm a distinguished guest!" Jiraiya plopped down cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, crossing his arms in defiance.
"Suit yourself. I think I left a marker or two in the Land of Water, around Kiri. The 'Bloody Mist' has some interesting sights this time of year…" Raimon's hand began to drift towards Jiraiya's shoulder.
"Whoa! Okay, okay! I'm going!" Jiraiya scrambled to his feet as if electrified. A one-way trip to Kiri would mean weeks of travel back. "You rotten kid… just you wait!" With a final, impotent grumble, he slammed the front door on his way out, leaving the quiet night to swallow his complaint.
He trudged down the deserted street, hands in his pockets. "Tch. Minato was way more respectful…"
Now he just needed to find a bathhouse that was still open, or maybe an all-night izakaya to drown his sorrows. "Damn it…"
***
Meanwhile, deep within a hidden Root stronghold, a different kind of storm was brewing.
SLAM!
"Useless! Pathetic!" Danzo's fist, his remaining one, crashed onto the steel table, the sound echoing in the sterile chamber. Kurama Yakumo had failed him. The girl's hesitation, her inability to fully manifest the illusion's lethal potential, had cost him everything.
I should have used Kotoamatsukami on her from the start, he seethed internally. Remade her will into a perfect weapon.
He'd lost an arm and the cream of his covert forces in one night. To reclaim any position of power now would require a drastic, unforeseen move. The kind of move that couldn't be walked back.
A pang of regret hit him—he should have reached out to his mysterious contact, that figure claiming to be 'Uchiha Madara.' With that one's power… Even Orochimaru had gone silent since the failed Konoha Crush, the snake slipping back into the deepest grass.
"I have sacrificed everything—my body, my morals, my very soul—for Konoha's strength. So why… why am I deemed unworthy of the hat?!" The old, festering resentment boiled over. All of it, every setback, was the fault of his sensei, Tobirama, for choosing Hiruzen, and Hiruzen's own weakness and favoritism. In Danzo's mind, his Konoha would have been an unassailable fortress of pure will.
"Lord Danzo." A masked Root operative knelt in the doorway.
"Accelerate the training of the new intake. Immediately," Danzo ordered, his voice a gravelly rasp. He massaged his temple with the bandaged fingers of his right hand. The loss of so many seasoned agents left him critically short-handed. Recalling agents from deep-cover missions abroad would take time he didn't have.
After having his stump professionally treated and sealed, Danzo moved silently through Konoha's sleeping streets. It was time for one final audience.
***
The Hokage's office was an island of light in the dark village. Hiruzen Sarutobi, looking older than ever, didn't look up from his desk as the door opened—this time without being kicked in.
"Danzo. To what do I owe this late visit?"
As Danzo stepped into the light, Hiruzen's keen eyes immediately cataloged the missing left arm. So, he had moved against Tsunade's group. And failed. Miserably.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi," Danzo began, dispensing with any honorifics. "The title of Hokage must never be handed to a sentimental, debt-ridden gambler and the ghost who enables her!"
"Since when do I require your instruction on village leadership?" Hiruzen's voice was cold, a veneer of authority covering his profound weariness. Danzo's constant undermining had gone on too long. And now, with the man physically diminished, some of the old fear dissipated. Hiruzen had always been the stronger of the two; he'd merely allowed the shadow to grow.
"You lecture me?" Danzo's eye blazed with contempt. "You, who attack the very foundation of Konoha's future?"
"I attack nothing. You are the one who sent assassins after a fellow Sannin and the village's Jinchūriki!"
"And you!" Danzo shot back, leaning forward. "Who stood by and let the village's malice destroy Konoha's White Fang? Who sacrificed nothing when Minato stepped forward to seal the Kyūbi, clinging to your power instead? Don't think I don't know about the funds diverted to secretly bolster the Sarutobi clan's private forces! Three thousand shinobi, isn't it? Trained on the village's coin, loyal only to you!"
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed dangerously. The pipe in his hand stilled. Danzo had crossed a line, speaking aloud secrets that could shatter the village if made public.
"Danzo," Hiruzen said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Your authority within Konoha is hereby revoked. We are old men. This is the time for us to step aside. It is the era of the young."
"Hah! So now you wish to wash your hands of it all and retire with your legacy intact?" Danzo sneered. The hypocrisy was galling. He turned on his heel. "Fine. If this corrupted shell of Konoha has no place for my vision, then I have no need of it."
He slammed the door on his way out, the sound final.
***
Hiruzen sat in the sudden silence for a long moment. Danzo was a loose end, a walking archive of their darkest compromises. He could not be allowed to simply walk away.
"Someone."
Two Anbu materialized from the shadows.
"Monitor Shimura Danzo. Report his every movement. Do not let him leave the village." It was a containment order. Hiruzen wouldn't order a kill on his old teammate… not unless he was forced to.
"Danzo… I hope, for once, you will be sensible." He sighed, the weight of decades pressing down. As long as the secrets stayed buried, the Sarutobi clan, with its substantial hidden strength, would remain a cornerstone of the village. Tsunade's ascension was now inevitable, and perhaps that was for the best. She was, after all, his student. Some influence would remain.
He took a long, slow draw from his pipe, the smoke curling like a ghost in the lamplight. He already knew Raimon had brought Tsunade back. The game was entering its final stages. Pushing himself up from the desk, his body seemed to hunch further. He took one last look around the office that had been his seat of power for most of his life.
"Old… I've grown so old." He felt a sudden need for a cane.
***
Danzo, meanwhile, moved with purpose. The Anbu tail was amateurish to his senses. He returned not to a Root base, but to the main compound of the Shimura clan. He had not been idle while Hiruzen built his private army.
"Clan Head." A senior clansman bowed as Danzo entered the main hall. "The assembly is complete. All sensitive data from our… external ventures… has been purged."
"Good." Danzo gave a single, curt nod. He was no Uchiha Itachi, willing to slaughter his own for a flawed peace. If he was leaving, his clan, his true power base, was coming with him. If Konoha would not accept his rule, he would build a new Konoha, one purified by his uncompromising will.
Everything was prepared. It was time to cut the strings.
His form blurred. In the shadow of a nearby roof, the monitoring Anbu operative had only a moment to widen his eyes before a bandaged hand clamped over his mouth and a kunai slid silently across his throat. Danzo let the body slump.
"A rat has been cleared," he whispered to the shadows. A masked Root agent, his true loyalist, emerged and bowed. "Signal the clansmen. Operation 'White Root' begins now. We depart within the hour." The real Konoha was leaving.