Danzo had lived for more than fifty years.
As a child, he grew up amidst the smoke of the late Warring States Period.
As a youth, he followed the second Hokage in campaigns north and south. He had experienced the baptism of blood and fire in two Shinobi World Wars, personally planned countless unseen conspiracies, conducted innurable exchanges of interest in the shadows of Konoha, his hands stained with the blood of enemies... and also with the blood of comrades.
He had always thought that he had long since grasped the rules of how this world operated.
The strong prey on the weak; interests above all, power determines everything.
But he had never imagined that this world he had struggled through his entire life could be summarized so thoroughly by just two simple, cold, irrefutable sentences.
He had always thought that he was the one who saw most clearly in the darkness. Yet only at this mont did he realize that after a lifeti of looking, perhaps he had only seen the ripples on the surface of the water and that ten-year-old child…
"Shinichi Higashino…"
After a long ti, Danzo let out a deep breath. He put down the docunt, stood up, walked to the window, pushed it open, and let his gaze pass over the eaves, falling toward the distant cetery.
His thoughts seed to be pulled by the continuous night rain, suddenly plunging back to that rainy night four years ago.
...
September of Konoha Year 42.
It was the sa kind of damp, gloomy rainy day, with even the air carrying a heavy, oppressive feeling.
Danzo Shimura stood in front of the window of his ho, looking toward the direction of the Ninja Academy in the distance.
It was very lively there today.
The son of Sakumo Hatake was graduating early, at the age of five years old, setting the record for the youngest graduate since the founding of Konoha.
A genius.
Danzo repeated this word in his heart.
Kakashi Hatake.
His father was the White Fang of Konoha, renowned across the Shinobi World, yet he had destroyed himself because of a foolish choice.
That child should be very fragile now, very lost, right?
Danzo felt that this was an opportunity.
He wanted to take advantage of the ti when the child was at his most confused, most pained, and most in need of spiritual support, to pull him into the Root.
Sakumo Hatake's son possessed extraordinary talent, yet at this mont his heart was full of confusion, full of cracks.
A child like this was the easiest to polish into the sharpest and most obedient blade in his hand.
Thus, Danzo left his ho. He was going to et that child.
Danzo stepped along a gravel path, heading toward the Konoha cetery.
That child had been coming here almost every day during this period, staying for a long ti each ti.
But just as he arrived outside the cetery, his steps suddenly stopped.
He sensed above Kakashi a familiar, faint chakra fluctuation, which was the trace of the Crystal Ball Jutsu.
That old thing, Hiruzen, was also watching here.
Danzo imdiately hid himself in the deepest shadows, restraining all his presence. He planned to wait for a while, until Hiruzen's gaze moved away.
However, before Hiruzen's gaze moved away, another child arrived.
This child, holding a dark umbrella, walked over from another direction, raising it above Kakashi's head to shield him from the torrential rain that had begun to pour down.
Shinichi Higashino.
Danzo recognized that child, the one who had carried stones on his back and showed off at the entrance of the Ninja Academy on the opening day a few months ago, causing quite a commotion, even drawing Hiruzen's attention.
At that ti, Danzo had looked at his records: an orphan, a civilian, no Kekkei Genkai, no background, and then he lost interest.
But this child had later defeated Kakashi Hatake in the practical assessnt, which did surprise Danzo sowhat.
However, he still had no interest at all.
Too flamboyant.
It could even be said to be foolishly ostentatious.
In Danzo's view, a true weapon should be hidden in its sheath, concealed in the shadows, honing its edge when no one knows.
A child like this, who seed to want the whole world to know he was different, would not amount to much.
Then he heard the conversation between the two.
About missions, about companions.
Danzo listened, his face showing no expression.
What that black-haired child said, about becoming stronger, about changing the rules, sounded nice, but it was only nice.
Youthful arrogance, anyone could say a few grand words. Only after truly experiencing life and death, witnessing betrayal, and seeing the world of adults, would one understand how naive those words were.
Danzo did not take any of it to heart, until… until Kakashi, sowhat aggressively, asked that strangely familiar question, causing his breathing to stop for an instant, and an incomparably familiar, deeply etched scene suddenly surged into his mind.
Too familiar.
So familiar that he did not want to recall it at all, yet every day and every night, he could not help but keep recalling it.
That day, his teacher's back disappeared from his sight, never to return.
That day, a mont of hesitation beca a cage for his entire life.
That day, the step he never managed to take beca a regret he could never make up for.
That day, the words he never managed to say beca an obsession that haunted him for the rest of his life.
Whenever the night grew deep and quiet, Danzo would ask himself again and again.
If back then, he had not hesitated?
If back then, he had stood out like Hiruzen did?
If back then, he had spoken the words in his heart?
What would his teacher have thought of him?
He did not know.
He would never know.
But Danzo knew that he had lost his teacher's recognition, lost the possibility of becoming Hokage, and also lost sothing he himself could not clearly describe, yet which was crucial.
From then on, he could only walk in the shadows, using more extre, darker, and bloodier thods to prove himself right, to fill the endless emptiness and unwillingness brought by that mont of hesitation.
What one cannot obtain in youth will trap one for a lifeti.
At this mont, as Kakashi asked that question, ti and scenery seed to twist and overlap in an instant.
The torrential rainy night cetery before his eyes seed to turn into that murderous forest in the Land of Lightning.
In a daze, Danzo returned to that night once again, once more facing that question.
I…
I will…
In the darkness, Danzo's dry lips trembled slightly, trying to make a sound, but no sound ca out. It was as if a thousand-pound weight was blocking his throat, pressing those words that were about to co out firmly back down.
"I will stay behind."
A clear, calm, yet decisive voice pierced through the curtain of rain and fell distinctly into his ears.
A light sentence.
Yet it caused Danzo in the shadows to suddenly stiffen, as if struck by lightning.
That young boy holding the black umbrella spoke those words calmly, words that Danzo had shouted in his heart countless tis in the depths of many midnight dreams, yet had never truly managed to say out loud.
He said it so naturally, so matter-of-factly, without even the slightest hesitation, saying the words that Danzo had spent a lifeti unable to utter.
As if it were only right.
As if it were the most natural thing.
As if… his teacher stood there, using this child's mouth to say it to him once again.
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