[Two days before]

“The report.”

Danzō Shimura’s voice was not a whisper nor a command, but a statement of fact. It cut through the oppressive silence of his subterranean office, a space that knew no sunlight. Kneeling in the center of the room, perfectly still on the cold stone floor, was a Root shinobi. His blank porcelain mask was expressionless, and his presence was so discreet it seemed like a temporary disruption in the void. He had been kneeling in complete silence for three minutes, a test of patience Danzō imposed without needing to announce it.

The office itself was a reflection of its owner: sterile, functional, and devoid of anything that could be considered an adornment. The walls were lined with shelves holding hundreds of scrolls, each cataloged with a coding system indecipherable to anyone outside of Root. There were no paintings, no plants, no mementos. Only a dark wooden desk, impeccably organized, and a single lamp that cast a harsh, yellow light, creating shadows that seemed more solid than the objects that cast them.

The operative, codenamed Fu, did not move. His tone, when he spoke, was as devoid of emotion as his mask. “Standard surveillance of the genin sector, Lord Danzō. An anomaly has been detected.”

Danzō did not look up from the scroll he was studying, a logistical analysis of the village’s weapons supply. “Details.”

“The operational efficiency of Team 7 and Team 8 has exceeded all projected parameters,” Fu continued, his voice a clinical monotone. “They have exhausted the village’s entire inventory of D-Rank missions available for the next two weeks. The completion rate is three hundred and twelve percent higher than the average for newly graduated teams.”

Danzō paused, setting aside the brush he was using for notes. Finally, he looked up. His single visible eye, dark and piercing, fixed on the shinobi.

“Efficiency is a result, Fu. Data without context is useless. I want the variables. The Uchiha’s behavior. The jinchūriki’s interaction with his teammates. Is there genuine cohesion or simple convenience to finish faster? Don’t give me numbers; give me analysis.”

Fu remained impassive but processed the command. His training allowed him to recall every observed detail. “Understood. The Uchiha operates with isolated efficiency. He moves to complete the objective with minimal interaction. His actions are precise, but not collaborative. He is a factor of individual strength, not a team multiplier.”

“Predictable,” Danzō murmured. “And the jinchūriki?”

“He is chaotic, yet strangely effective. His use of Kage Bunshin creates a massive workforce that overwhelms tasks. He does not follow procedures, but his teammates have learned to adapt to his unpredictability. The Haruno, Sakura, acts as a tactical coordinator, directing the jinchūriki’s clones while the Uchiha secures the main objective. It is a dysfunctional dynamic that, nevertheless, works.”

“An organized dysfunction,” Danzō corrected. “Continue.”

“Team 8 operates with near-perfect synergy. The Inuzuka, acts as the spearhead and primary tracker. The Aburame, provides cover and containment. The Hyūga, functions as the team’s nerve center; her Byakugan directs their movements and detects threats before they materialize. Their cooperation is notably superior to that of Team 7.”

“And yet, their combined efficiency is what’s causing the problem,” Danzō concluded, more to himself than to Fu. “The raw power of Team 7 and the precision of Team 8.”

Upon hearing “Uzumaki” and “Uchiha” in the context of such anomalous performance, he felt the click of a complex puzzle piece falling into place. On the surface, the information was trivial, but Danzō had spent his entire life studying the currents that moved beneath Konoha’s surface. And in those two words, he felt a strong current.

“Any indication of the next deployment from the Hokage?”

“Preliminary intelligence suggests a C-Rank mission outside the village is being considered for both teams, jointly. It has not been officially announced yet. The information is low-level, considered a simple administrative matter by the Tower.”

“An administrative matter,” Danzō thought with a hint of contempt. Hiruzen was always incapable of seeing the full board.

With an almost imperceptible wave of his hand, a short, dry motion, he dismissed his subordinate. Fu vanished from the room as silently as he had appeared.

Danzō rose from his chair with a stiff, deliberate movement. He walked across the room, his steps muffled by his sandals on the stone. His mind was no longer on weapons reports, but on the two anomalous pieces Hiruzen was moving across his board.

Sasuke Uchiha. The ember that Itachi, in his sentimentality, had failed to extinguish. A walking reminder of Konoha’s greatest internal security failure. Hiruzen saw him as a boy who needed guidance. Danzō saw him as a risk. A power shaped by hatred could not be controlled. It had to be excised.

Naruto Uzumaki. Konoha’s ultimate weapon, and Hiruzen treated him like a long-lost grandson. The Third’s sentimentality was a blindness that endangered the entire village. A jinchūriki was not a child; it was a nuclear asset.

His mind drifted to the past. He recalled with perfect clarity a meeting in this very office, years ago. Hiruzen, standing where now only shadows lingered, his face etched with pain and fatigue after the Kyūbi’s attack. “No one must know that Naruto is the Fourth’s son, nor that he is the jinchūriki,” Hiruzen had ordered. “He must have the chance for a normal life. It’s the least we owe him.”

Danzō had remained silent, but inwardly, the decision had already been made. A normal life. Hiruzen and his delusions. The village was broken, terrified. They needed a lightning rod for their fear. A place to focus their pain so they wouldn’t consume themselves.

It was not a proclamation. It was a word whispered in the market to a merchant known for his loose tongue. An anonymous note slipped under the door of an elder on the civilian council. It was not an act of cruelty; it was an act of stabilization. The shared suspicion united the village against a tangible internal threat. And every hateful glance toward the boy was another crack in the armor of Hiruzen’s moral authority.

Now, fate was once again presenting him with his two greatest problems.

He stopped before a wall that seemed identical to the others. He pressed a specific stone, and a section of the wall slid inward with a soft hiss, revealing a hidden archive. His fingers traced the labels until he found the one he was looking for: “External Requests – Pending.” He unrolled Tazuna’s petition. Trivial. But the destination caught his attention: the Land of Waves.

He left the scroll and went deeper into the archive, searching for a different classification: “Economic Intelligence – Minor Nations.” He pulled out a thick file on the Land of Waves. He opened it and found reports on a shipping magnate named Gatō, his monopoly, his cruelty. And, in a recent addendum, a note from a low-level informant about the “increased hiring of mercenaries and rogue ninja by Gatō Corp.”

The pieces were there, but the full picture needed an outside perspective.

“Nomi,” Danzō said to the empty air.

An instant later, an older man appeared, kneeling in the center of the room. He wore no mask. His face was lined with scars, and one of his eyes was a milky white, blind. Nomi was one of his oldest and most trusted analysts, a shinobi retired from the field whose mind was as sharp as any kunai.

“Lord Danzō,” Nomi said, his voice raspy from disuse.

“Observe,” Danzō ordered, pointing to the scrolls on his desk. “We have two genin teams with anomalous performance, their core being the jinchūriki and the last Uchiha. We have a C-Rank mission request to the Land of Waves, which the Hokage is considering assigning to them. And we have reports of military instability in that region under the control of a local tyrant. Connect the dots, Nomi.”

Nomi stood, approached the desk, and read the documents with absolute concentration. His one good eye darted quickly from one text to another. After several minutes of silence, he spoke.

“It’s an opportunity, Lord Danzō,” he said finally. “A high-stress field test. Fu’s report indicates the assets are potent, but their team dynamics are imperfect. Subjecting them to a hostile but theoretically controllable environment will provide us with invaluable data on their limits, their breaking points, and the jinchūriki’s true combat potential under pressure.”

Nomi’s perspective was that of Root: everything was an opportunity to gather information.

“Your analysis is correct, but limited,” Danzō replied, turning his back on him and beginning to pace again. “You see a test. I see a solution.”

He stopped beside the map on the wall. “Gatō is hiring rogue ninja. Not mere thugs. We’re talking about trained shinobi who have abandoned their villages. Tazuna’s mission is no longer C-Rank. It never was. Hiruzen is either too lazy or too incompetent to conduct a proper background check. He will send those eight shinobi into a situation that far exceeds their capabilities.”

Nomi nodded slowly. “Then, should we warn the Hokage? Or send a covert support team to protect the assets?”

Danzō almost smiled. Nomi was brilliant, but he still thought in terms of preservation.

“No,” Danzō said, turning to face his analyst. “We will do neither. We will let Hiruzen make his mistake. And then, we will make it a little… worse.”

Nomi’s one good eye widened slightly as he grasped his master’s true intention.

Danzō continued, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone, “If I send my men to eliminate the Uchiha, the risk is too high. But if he dies on a mission approved by the Hokage… it’s a tragic accident. An intelligence failure. Hiruzen’s reputation will be stained, and a future threat to Konoha’s stability will be cleanly eliminated.”

“And the jinchūriki…” Nomi whispered, understanding the second part of the plan.

“The jinchūriki, faced with an overwhelming threat, with the possible death of his comrades, will be forced to draw on a power he doesn’t understand. The seal will weaken. The Kyūbi’s chakra will leak out. It doesn’t matter if he loses control and becomes a monster or if he masters it and becomes a terrifying hero. In either scenario, the village and the Council will see the truth: that Konoha’s weapon is too volatile to be in the hands of a child under the supervision of a sentimental old man. They will demand firmer control. A control I can provide.”

Nomi remained silent, processing the scale of the plan. This was not a simple espionage mission or an assassination. It was a political coup, executed with genin pawns and a foreign tyrant.

“I understand, Lord Danzō,” Nomi said, bowing his head. “The end justifies the purge. How shall we proceed?”

“Gatō already has the will and the resources,” Danzō explained. “But he will likely hire mercenaries appropriate to the perceived threat: a genin team and a jōnin. We must ensure his response is… overwhelming. He needs the right motivation to hire someone truly dangerous.”

He returned to his desk. The decision was made. The strategy, formulated. All that remained was execution.

“That is all, Nomi. You are dismissed.”

Nomi bowed and vanished, leaving Danzō alone once more.

Danzō performed an almost imperceptible hand seal. A second later, another Root operative, Torune, was kneeling where Fu had been.

“Torune,” Danzō said, “your speed is required.”

He took a small, blank scroll from a drawer. With a brush and ink, he wrote a single line in swift but flawless calligraphy. He did not sign it. He applied no seal. He rolled it up and sealed it with a piece of unmarked black wax.

“Your destination is the Land of Waves,” he ordered, extending the scroll. “You will find a shipping magnate named Gatō. This scroll must reach his hands. The delivery must be anonymous, untraceable.” He paused, his gaze hardening. “Gatō has spies and information routes in the ports of the Land of Fire. The information must appear to come from one of them. A whisper in a tavern, a note left at a known meeting place. Use your discretion, but the origin must be unquestionable to him. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Danzō,” Torune whispered. His voice was guttural, barely audible. He did not ask about the contents. He did not ask about the purpose. In Root, obedience was absolute.

“The content is simple,” Danzō clarified. “‘Konoha is sending an escort for Tazuna. Eight shinobi, including Kakashi of the Sharingan.'”

Every word was a weapon. “Eight shinobi” was an alarmingly high number. “Kakashi of the Sharingan” was a name that would force Gatō to hire someone of an equivalent or superior caliber.

“Nothing more, nothing less,” Danzō concluded, handing him the scroll. “Failure is not an option, Torune. Not for you, and not for them. Go now.”

Torune took the scroll. In an instant, he vanished in a blur of motion so fast he seemed to dissolve into the room’s shadows.

Danzō was alone again. The silence returned, but now it felt different. It felt charged with potential. He walked to the large map of the shinobi world that hung on one of the walls. His single visible eye fell upon the tiny dot that represented the Land of Waves.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile pulled at the corner of his lips. It was not a smile of joy, but of satisfaction. The satisfaction of a master craftsman who has just set the key piece in his work.

Now, Hiruzen, he thought. Let’s see how your precious ‘Will of Fire’ survives the coming storm. I will be waiting in the shadows, as always. Ready to pick up the pieces and build a stronger Konoha on the ashes of your failures.

Author’s Note

This fanfiction will continue on Patreon at patreon.com/ItsDevil or patreon.com/ShuraZero.

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Otherwise, the next public release is scheduled for Monday, September 15, 2025.