(A/N: Thank you all for your warm wishes and kind words. It has motivated to post an early Chapter from one of the most hated characters in Naruto. I know, I know, but it was inevitable. It is also great to see so many familiar profiles! Glad to see you stuck around. Hope you enjoy :)
(A/N: Words: 1581)
-ooo-
Hokage Office | Midnight
Danzo Shimura has been many things in his fifty-odd years: son, soldier, survivor. But a man given to temper is not one of them.
Fleeting emotions are a luxury he loathes in others and refuses in himself, yet tonight it’s ember burns in his chest, hot enough to lt iron.
Five hours have passed beneath the slow sweep of the Hokage’s office clock; five hours in which nothing has moved except smoke, paper, and the needle of Danzo’s patience.
He sits motionless in a high-backed leather chair. Posture perfect—as always—hand atop the lacquered head of his cane, refusing even the smallest display of discomfort.
Across the broad desk, Hiruzen lounges like a man who does not care about the weight of his position: robe shed in a careless heap, pipe balanced between ringed fingers, eyes half-lidded beneath the glow of dim lamps.
Age has not been gentle with the old ape: his gaze is now soft at the edges, shoulders rounded, yet, unfortunately, the mind behind those smoke-stung irises remains infuriatingly clear.
Fifteen photographs lie scattered across the desk. Fresh Genin, bright-eyed lambs who have never known real winter. Beneath each face, a dossier bulges with academic scores, clan histories, dical notes, and teacher evaluations.
Danzo has already morized every file.
"And what, precisely, is your reasoning?" Danzo finally decides to ask. The words slip out cool and smooth, contradicting the faintest tightening around his mouth.
Hiruzen exhales smoke that pools above the room like mist.
"You dislike my proposal. Say so plainly."
"I dislike inefficiency." Danzo corrects, tapping his cane on the carpet. One sharp tok that makes Homaru startle awake from a half-doze. "Three dical specialists on one team. At a ti when the dical corps are stretched like linen across too many fronts. Shall we also stockpile water rations in a single canteen?"
Koharu, with squinted eyes, leans forward to study the photograph. Her fingertips drum lightly against a cup of cooling tea.
"I share the concern, Hiruzen," she inserts. "Concentration has its advantages, but dispersion multiplies survivability."
Sarutobi smiles, and it takes everything in Danzo not to take his cane and smack that irritating smirk off his face.
"Hm, that is interesting. I don’t recall you having the sa opinion when Tsunade recomnded every genin team to have a dical specialist years ago, do you?"
She flinches at that, and after a beat, moves to respond. Hiruzen does not allow her the room to do so.
"Every advantage has its risk, Koharu. Tsunade believes these children will continue to flourish together. As do I."
Tsunade. Danzo suppresses a scoff.
The woman is a prodigy of depression and alcoholism. Smart (debatable) but hardly reliable.
He edges to the end of his seat and opens his palm over the photographs, rearranging them with soft taps.
Shisui Uchiha slides beside Tanaka Shuji and Momoe Hyuga; Satoshi Yamanaka clicks into place alongside Arisu Nara and Yuri Akimichi; Shizune Kato drifts to the remaining pair of lesser applicants. The new teams Danzo puts together in under fifteen seconds are undeniably logical.
One tracking team—coincidentally consisting of one of his Root operatives. One traditional Yamanaka, Nara, and Akamichi team composition. And one irrelevant.
"Three teams," Danzo says, knowing his placent can’t be disputed. "Each with a dic, each with complentary tracking or intelligence natures. This is what proper distribution looks like."
Homura nods as if the matter is settled, blinking away fatigue, obviously ready to slide into bed next to the prostitute he’s been seeing for the last year.
The Hokage only hums, stroking his beard with the back of one knuckle.
After a long mont, he reaches beneath a ledger and withdraws an envelope. Heavy cream stock, edges covered in gold leaf. The chrysanthemum crest of the Fire Daimyo shines under the lamp.
Danzo keeps his face stone, but inside, his anger begins to burn bright yet again.
"This arrived two days ago," Hiruzen says. "I ant to circulate it sooner, but important things ca up, and I forgot. I’m sure you understand."
That was a lie, Danzo notes as Hiruzen passes the letter across the desk with an apologetic smile. If Danzo didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was genuine.
It was anything but.
Each centiter the letter travels across the desk scrapes at Danzo’s composure.
He accepts the envelope without haste, though his thumb wants to crush the parchnt in his grip, knowing this was another one of Hiruzen’s sches at play.
Danzo draws out the letter, eyes darting across the top once.
The seal is already cracked, Danzo realizes. Hiruzen has read and prepared. Of course, he has.
-ooo-
—To the Honored Hokage, Sarutobi-dono,
The fla of our country burns bright, even in these bleak days of the war. Five autumns of hardship have not dimd the Leaf’s resolve; I send comndation to every soul who stands watch upon your walls, and prayers for those who do not return.
It pleases greatly to learn that Tsunade will soon end her well-deserved respite and guide the youth of Konohagakure. I have long admired her art, both as a healer and a warrior. Steady hands and a sharp mind rarely coexist so comfortably in one soul.
In recent correspondence, you wrote of three young talents who benefit from her close attention: Shisui of the Uchiha, Satoshi of the Yamanaka, and Shizune Kato. I am pleased to also hear that two among them will be graduating with the highest marks in the Academy’s history. That is no small feat, especially considering the bar set by young Namakize’s brilliance.
I shall be delighted to greet Tsunade when she journeys to assist with the delivery of my third child next month, and should her pupils accompany her, I trust their visit will be a brief yet morable glimpse of the responsibilities that await them.
(Do remind her, with my warst affection, that certain personal habits are best kept as personal habits; the impressionable thrive on good example.)
Until peace again blesses our borders, may the Leaf stand evergreen.
—Chikamatsu Ryujin
Fire Daimyo
-ooo-
Danzo’s molars et hard enough to crack, and the letter crumples under his fingers.
Homura cranes his neck. "May we review the contents?"
Without comntary, Danzo lays the parchnt between them. Koharu reads quickly, lips moving, and slowly blinks as the contents settle. Homura’s brow climbs inch by inch before smoothing into understanding.
Hiruzen’s trap is elegant in its simplicity. Royal approval that cannot be countermanded without risking political and social ruin.
"You," Danzo’s voice raises a couple of octaves unconsciously. "You dare coerce the Daimyo into your sches?"
Hiruzen exhales another lazy plu of smoke.
"I dare only to inform, Danzo," Hiruzen replies. "What the Daimyo chooses to do with that information is—of course—his prerogative."
Koharu bristles. "We are not fools, Hiruzen."
"Then stop behaving as such."
The silence that followed was separated only by the pressure of chakra pulsing from Danzo’s core. Homura stiffened, eyes darting between the two n as if trying to asure which of them might strike first.
"You have turned your back on the structure that kept us alive," Danzo hissed, standing now. "You used ceremonial endorsent as a bludgeon, knowing full well it leaves no room for dissent.
Hiruzen’s eyes sharpen. The old softness falls away, and for a flicker of a mont, the Professor returns.
"I protected the next generation from your paranoia," he replied. "If I must carry the weight of political maneuvering to shield a child from becoming your personal weapon, so be it."
Danzo laughed once. A low, bitter thing.
"Do not pretend you still have the strength to shield anything, old friend."
Hiruzen’s fingers tightened on his pipe.
"And you do? We were not ant to last forever, Danzo. But they—" Hiruzen waved over the pictures on his desk "—they are. I would rather invest in a future that breaths than a past that bleeds."
"You are soft." Danzo spits.
"And you are obsolete."
Their chakra collides, and the lamp lights begin to flicker; the floorboards creek and shudder. Koharu flinches. Homura’s mouth opens, then closes.
Danzo leans forward, one hand flattening on the desk.
"You coddle them. These children. Just as you coddled your last students. Shall I remind you where that got them?"
Homura’s breath is caught by the surge in Hiruzen’s chakra. Danzo does not care. He presses on.
"One fled into drink, one into perversion, and the last—well, you discarded him for Namakaze, so it is evident you are more cold-hearted than you put on. Tobirama-sensei would be ashad of you—"
"No, he would be ashad of you!"
Hiruzen stands, his chakra burns like lava prickling Danzo’s skin.
"Do you think of as an idiot, Danzo?" Hiruzen asks. "Do you think I am not aware Tanaka Shuji is Root. Do you think I don’t know your intention in putting Shisui on his team?"
The walls began to shake from the pressure of Hiruzen’s chakra. The ANBU hiding within made haste to intervene at a mont’s notice.
"It is you who dares to overstep your bounds. Do not forget that Sensei appointed as Hokage. Not you."
Hiruzen took to his seat, gathering the photographs, restoring the original arrangents—Shisui beside Satoshi beside Shizune.
"Tanaka is removed from Root, effective imdiately. And your services are no longer needed this evening. You can excuse yourself. Now."
Danzo scoffs, hiding his surprise and fury at Hiruzen’s discovery, and turns toward the door. His cane strikes sharply against the floor with each step.
"You are a fool, Hiruzen," he says without looking back. "And know this: when the cost cos due, as it always does, it will not be you who pays it."
And with that, he left.
His footsteps echo down the dark hallway of the Hokage Tower, towards his Root hideout, to do the one thing he is proficient at.
Sche.
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