Chapter 14: The New Squad Member
The air in the Hokage's office was stagnant and heavy, as if it could be wrung out for water.
The faint light from the window cut diagonally through the thick tobacco smoke. Sarutobi Hiruzen's face was obscured by the haze.
Shimura Danzō's voice was low and firm, like a cold stone dropped into stagnant water. "Hiruzen, that injury report is in black and white. That level of penetration trauma, blood loss, and organ rupture... theoretically, survival is impossible."
His gaunt fingers tapped the Konoha Hospital report splayed on the desk, the sound a dull echo in the room.
Sarutobi Hiruzen remained silent, the embers in his pipe flaring and dying in the dim light.
They both knew. The report described a one-way path to the afterlife. Yet the boy who should be a name on the Memorial Stone was, at this very moment, alive and walking in the sun. A heavy, unspoken answer hung in the air, as persistent as the smell of smoke.
Most of the Senju clan's jutsu were in Konoha's Forbidden Scroll vault, contributed by the Nidaime Hokage, Tobirama. Even though the clan had disbanded, it was possible some new jutsu remained. For Shūji to survive, Tōka must have used something... something so dangerous she had waited until the very last moment. It wasn't hard to guess what.
Hiruzen took a deep drag from his pipe, the acrid smoke coiling in his lungs. He looked at Danzō through the haze. "What are you trying to say?" His voice was calm, betraying nothing.
"He is unsuitable to lead Uchiha Itachi." Danzō went straight to the heart of the matter, with no preamble. "Give the Uchiha to me." His goal was naked and clear. Shūji was just a pretext.
Danzō's true target had always been the Uchiha's boy genius.
Hiruzen saw through it instantly.
"Impossible." His voice was iron, leaving no room for negotiation. Even if he considered placing Itachi in the Anbu for special training, he would never, ever let him fall into the hands of Root. "Fugaku would never accept it." He pointed out the obvious.
Every member of Root was branded with a curse mark, their life and death bound to Danzō's will.
Even a common Uchiha clansman viewed Root with dread. They would never allow the clan head's son, the genius in whom the Uchiha had placed all their hopes, to be taken.
"Uchiha Fugaku does not need to know," Danzō said with a cold confidence, as if manipulating a person's very will was the most natural thing in the world. "I have... ways... to make Uchiha Itachi volunteer."
Hiruzen's pipe struck the edge of his desk with a sharp crack. A few sparks flew. "No."
"They are already getting restless!" Danzō's voice suddenly rose.
Hiruzen took a deep breath, as if trying to exhale all the frustration in his chest along with the smoke, letting the haze momentarily blur the weariness in his eyes.
"Kumo has signaled for peace talks," he said, changing the subject. "That is the immediate priority."
Danzō let out a short, cold snort through his nose, but he followed the Sandaime's lead. "Kumo has indeed been quiet on the border ever since our last operation failed."
"The village can't take much more of this, either," Hiruzen stated the facts plainly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm bowl of his pipe.
The three-year stalemate on the border wasn't just a matter of casualties for Kumo.
The Land of Lightning was mountainous, with little flat land. Its limited farmland was dedicated to high-yield cash crops. After their war with the Land of Fire, the food trade from nations within Konoha's sphere of influence had been almost completely cut off.
On the surface, Konoha was just a military contractor. It couldn't even interfere in the Land of Fire's politics, let alone make demands of other nations.
However, Shimura Danzō's Root was never bound by such surface-level pleasantries. They had struck out in all directions, not only intercepting every single trade caravan bound for the Land of Lightning, but also converting these "spoils of war" into supplies to feed back into Konoha.
With its land routes completely paralyzed, the Land of Lightning was forced to rely on the sea. Food prices skyrocketed, civilian goods were scarce, and the standard of living plummeted. Even if Kumo could barely maintain its front lines with its strategic reserves, the home front was rife with complaints. The Land of Lightning's Daimyō had already confronted the Raikage on multiple occasions.
The Kumo raid that had wiped out Shūji's original squad had been the last, desperate gasp of a dying offensive. Their silence afterward was proof of their exhaustion.
Konoha, on the other hand, had no shortage of food. But the long years of war were a heavy millstone, grinding down the villagers' patience and hope.
War-weariness was spreading like a quiet wildfire.
With Kumo extending the olive branch, this war of attrition had, for Konoha as well, finally reached its end.
"The village has been short-handed these past few years. We have a backlog of missions. The Land of Forests and Izuke Port... rogue ninja are breeding, and the situation is chaotic," Hiruzen's voice returned to a business-like coldness. "Root. Send men to take a look. Stabilize the situation."
"I will see to it," Danzō replied, his voice unreadable.
He leaned on his cane and turned. His wide robes stirred a small, cold wind. Two Anbu, wearing animal masks and exuding an aura as still as dead water, emerged soundlessly from the shadows to follow him.
The heavy door to the Hokage's office was pulled open. Bright light from the hallway flooded in, briefly banishing the room's gloom and smoke. In that exact moment, as light and shadow crossed, Danzō came face to face with Shūji, who had just been about to knock.
"Advisor." Shūji stopped, giving a slight, respectful nod. His voice was calm.
Shimura Danzō did not even pause.
His one hawk-like eye, sunk deep in its socket, scraped across Shūji. It was a sharp, cold gaze, as if trying to pierce his flesh and scrutinize every secret hidden beneath.
In the end, the advisor merely let out a non-committal, almost inaudible "Hn" from his nose. Carrying an aura of unshakable cold, he and his two Root shinobi vanished down the corridor like three shadows melting into the wall.
Shūji watched them disappear into the darkness at the end of the hall before he turned and pushed open the door to the Hokage's office.
The smell of tobacco and old paper hit him. He walked to the wide desk and gently placed a paper folder on it, containing his mission records from the past few years and his personal information.
"Hokage-sama." His voice broke the room's silence.
The heavy weariness on Sarutobi Hiruzen's face seemed to have been intentionally tucked away. He put down his pipe, and his gaze on Shūji was almost fatherly. "You're here. About the recommendation letters..." He pulled open a drawer. "Saemi and Kachi... they've already been sent over." He took out two sealed scrolls and placed them on the corner of his desk. "Your assessment exam has been set as a specialty evaluation of your ninjutsu. Your mastery of the transformations has always been excellent. So, it shouldn't be a problem, correct?"
"Yes. I will be prepared," Shūji replied, crisp and to the point.
"One more thing," Hiruzen said, as if just remembering. He pulled another, thinner file from the drawer and handed it over. "About your new squad member. This child... also has some special circumstances, and the village hasn't found a suitable team for her yet. After some thought, I feel she may be a good fit for your squad."
Shūji took the file. His eyes landed on the photograph.
A girl with short, spiky purple hair stared back at him. Her eyes held a hint of untamed wildness, and her lips seemed to be fixed in a permanent, couldn't-care-less smirk.
Mitarashi Anko.