As the anesthesia wore off, Danzo groggily awoke to the sensation of cold dampness beneath him. The air carried a burnt, almost corn-like odor. Harsh lights stabbed at his dark-accustomed eyes, forcing him to blink rapidly until his vision cleared—revealing the familiar cyan-tiled ceiling of Root's medical ward.
He'd seen this ceiling many times before—after near-fatal missions, when Chizuru Tō's scalpels had pieced him back together. Once, after an ambush cost him an eye and charred his right arm to a crisp, he'd foolishly agreed to surgery without anesthesia (courtesy of Chizuru's sadistic "advice"). The pain nearly killed him.
Since then, he'd rarely fought personally. Now, staring up at those tiles again, they felt almost foreign.
"Lord Danzo—the surgery was a success!"
A gaunt, sickly face suddenly blocked the light—Chizuru Tō. His greasy hair dangled like seaweed as he spoke in a tone of forced cheer, though his bloodshot, bulging eyes betrayed exhaustion.
Danzo grimaced and shoved him aside with his new right arm—still stiff and numb, moving like a corpse's limb. Grunting, he propped himself up on his left elbow.
"Sensei, how do you feel?"
A crisp, youthful voice. Danzo's eyes flicked open.
Silver hair shimmering like starlight, pale skin stark against her black robes—Hikari, his "borrowed" disciple, stood before him. Her blindfolded face was so flawlessly sculpted it seemed unreal.
Instantly, Danzo's scowl softened.
Chizuru's cadaverous mug could never compare.
The fact that he'd stolen her from Hiruzen with Kotoamatsukami only sweetened the deal.
"Mm. Let me test it."
Uncharacteristically gentle, his voice lacked its usual edge—likely the drugs' fault.
Chizuru, sidelined after his failed attempt at sucking up, watched the "heartwarming" scene with thinly veiled disgust. Nearby, Aburame Ryūma stood guard at the door, posture rigid with feigned loyalty.
Danzo's gonna get played to death by his precious disciple.
Not that Chizuru cared. Whoever won, he'd still be stuck in the lab. He just hoped he wouldn't get splattered in the crossfire.
Silently, he retreated into the background—a human scarecrow.
Danzo ignored him, focusing on his new arm.
The limb was cold—unnervingly so, like a cadaver's. The skin felt waxy, the muscles sluggish. But as blood flow resumed, warmth seeped back in, and with it—power.
His fingers flexed.
Deep within the arm, the Hashirama-cell chakra core activated, pulsing verdant energy. Vitality surged, repairing the graft site while simultaneously creeping inward—a silent invasion.
Ten embedded Sharingan bulged grotesquely beneath the skin, writhing like parasitic red slugs. They suppressed the Hashirama cells' erosion, converting that monstrous chakra into ocular power—tightening their grip.
Yet the invasion persisted. A single misstep, and Danzo would sprout roots.
Beneath the bandages, his right eye—a pinwheel Mangekyō—flared. Yin-release energy crushed the Hashirama cells' advance, siphoning their vitality to replenish the drained dōjutsu. The crimson hue returned.
The arm's chakra now trickled out like a pinhole leak—barely a threat.
"Perfect."
Danzo practiced hand seals, alternating between his natural left hand and the new right.
"Hikari, your medical ninjutsu surpasses Chizuru's."
Hope you're still praising her when she carves you up.
The "loyal" doctor turned away, sulking.
"Chizuru-sensei taught me well," Hikari said, tossing him a bone.
"N-No, no! Your talent is—" Chizuru stammered, suddenly meek. (Ryūma's bugs were still in his lungs.)
Danzo's brow furrowed.
Since when did this arrogant bastard humble himself?
Something felt off. That burnt smell…
"My lord."
Ryūma interrupted, presenting Danzo's cane. Distracted, Danzo reached with his right hand—
—and recoiled.
The Sharingan embedded in his palm twitched, its pupil dilating against the wood.
Right. Can't grip things carelessly now.
The arm needed sealing—both to curb Hashirama-cell erosion and to avoid Byakugan detection.
"Ryūma, I'll be in Vault One, acclimating. No interruptions."
"Understood."
Ryūma bowed deeply—hiding the new resolve in his eyes.
The door slid open. Red lights shifted to green as Danzo hobbled out, his left hand clumsily adjusting to the cane. Shadowy figures—Nara operatives—emerged from the walls, flanking him as he left.
"Haaah…"
Chizuru exhaled explosively once Danzo was gone.
"Lord Hikari—"
"Act normal."
Hikari's glare silenced him. His earlier slip had almost tipped Danzo off.
Chizuru's face instantly twisted back into its usual smug asshole default.
"Out."
"Y-Yes!"
The "arrogant" doctor scampered off, politely shutting the door behind him.
"No entry until I say so. And—you three, with me to the underground vault."
"Yes, sir!"
Footsteps faded. Silence.
Only Hikari and Ryūma remained.
"Ask," Hikari said, her Byakugan confirming no eavesdroppers.
Ryūma's question burst out:
"Why didn't you expose me?"
His expression was pained. He'd been ready to die killing Danzo. When Hikari broke free of the Cursed Seal and burned his kikaichū to ash, he'd accepted death—only for her to spare him. Even threatening Chizuru to save his life.
Why?
"You don't deserve to die like that."
"My life means nothing if it kills Danzo!"
"You can't kill him."
"The anesthesia—he couldn't have used Izanagi without hands or consciousness!"
Hikari almost pitied him.
"Did your research mention Ura Shishō Fuin?"
Ryūma froze.
"The… 'Seal of Embedded Command'?"
He had seen it—a technique to pre-load a dōjutsu's ability into a Sharingan, triggering automatically under set conditions.
"Danzo stored Izanagi in a spare three-tomoe. Your attack would've just wasted one eye."
Ryūma paled.
"Now," Hikari leaned in, "my turn. Why kill Danzo?"
"A… mission."
His voice was hollow. That perfect chance—just a trap.
"From who?"
"Danzo."
"?"
"Shimon Kujiku no Jin prevents details."
The Tongue Eradication Seal. He couldn't elaborate.
Hikari's Byakugan checked his emotional aura—truth.
"With that arm and Izanagi, you'll never kill him now."
"Get to the point."
"I'll do it for you."
Her tone was casual—like swatting a fly.
And why not?
The Reverse Eight Gates was nearly complete. Bloodline erosion? Chakra shortages? Soon, irrelevant.
Her sights were set higher—the vacant throne of the heavens. Danzo? A pebble on the path.
"Your price?"
"Root. Serve me."
Ryūma hesitated.
"Root exists to protect Konoha from the shadows—by any means necessary. Danzo twisted it into his private army. If I help you… what's the difference?"
Ah.
So that was his motive.
"Then don't change its purpose," Hikari shrugged. "Protect Konoha… and sometimes, run my errands."
Silence.
She watched the conflict play out on his face—then struck the final blow:
"Danzo plans to use me against Hiruzen. With Kotoamatsukami, I might level Konoha. Imagine the chaos if other villages attack mid-coup."
Ryūma jolted.
"How do you know about his—?!"
Loyalty warred with pragmatism.
Finally—a nod.
Danzo's death would free Root. And Hikari—at least nominally—was Hiruzen's disciple.
Close enough.
Three Days Later
Hikari (Yang) sat cross-legged atop the Hashirama Tree, siphoning chakra as usual—when suddenly, her eyes snapped open.
Ecstasy flooded her features.
Within her chakra core, the violet spiral that had stretched endlessly toward her main body… finally descended.
A voice echoed from within:
"Reverse Eight Gates—complete. Return."
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