The air inside the Hokage’s Office was stagnant and oppressively heavy, as though the tension itself had become thick enough to wring water from.
Faint daylight slanted through the window, cutting across the haze of tobacco smoke.
Sarutobi Hiruzen’s face was half-hidden behind the drifting gray veil.
Shimura Danzō’s voice was low and absolute, like a cold stone dropped into still water.
“Hiruzen, the medical report is right there in black and white.
A penetrating wound of that severity, that much blood loss, ruptured organs…
theoretically, there was no possibility of survival.” His thin, withered finger tapped the Konoha Hospital report spread across the desk.
Each knock of his knuckle against the paper produced a dull, heavy sound.
Hiruzen remained silent.
The ember in his pipe brightened and dimmed in the murky light.
Neither man needed to say what they were both thinking.
The injuries described in that report should have been a road straight to the Pure Land.
Yet the boy whose name ought to have been carved onto the Memorial Stone was now alive and walking beneath the sun.
A vague but weighty answer lingered between them, as impossible to ignore as the smell of smoke filling the room.
Most of the Senju clan’s techniques were stored within Konoha’s restricted archives, many of them contributed by the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama.
Although the clan’s dissolution did not mean every technique developed afterward had been surrendered to the village, there were only so many things capable of saving Shuji from injuries that severe—especially something dangerous enough that Senju Momoka had hesitated until the very last moment before using it.
The answer wasn’t particularly difficult to guess.
Hiruzen drew deeply from his pipe.
Acrid smoke filled his lungs before he slowly exhaled and looked at Danzō through the haze.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” His tone was calm, betraying nothing.
“He isn’t suitable to lead Uchiha Itachi.” Danzō went straight to the heart of the matter.
“Give Uchiha Itachi to me.” There was no attempt to conceal his objective.
Shuji had only ever been an excuse.
The person Danzō truly wanted was the young Uchiha prodigy—Itachi.
Hiruzen understood that perfectly.
“Impossible.” His refusal was immediate and absolute.
Even if Hiruzen eventually considered transferring Itachi into ANBU for specialized training, he would never allow the boy to fall into Root’s hands.
“Fugaku would never accept it.” Every member of Root bore a cursed seal.
Their lives, deaths, honor, and disgrace were all bound to Danzō’s will.
Ordinary members of the Uchiha clan already regarded Root with deep suspicion.
There was no chance they would willingly allow the clan head’s son—the genius upon whom the Uchiha placed enormous expectations—to join such an organization.
“There is no need for Uchiha Fugaku to know.” Danzō spoke with icy confidence, as though manipulating another person’s heart was the most natural thing in the world.
“I have ways to make Uchiha Itachi join…
voluntarily.” Hiruzen struck the edge of the desk sharply with his pipe.
A few sparks scattered from the bowl.
“No.” “They’re already beginning to make their move!” Danzō’s voice suddenly rose.
Hiruzen took a long breath, as though trying to exhale the frustration in his chest along with the smoke.
The curling haze briefly concealed the exhaustion and heaviness in his eyes.
“Kumogakure has sent signals that they’re willing to negotiate peace,” he said, deliberately changing the subject.
“That is our immediate priority.” Danzō gave a short, cold snort through his nose, but ultimately followed Hiruzen’s lead.
“After their last operation failed, Kumogakure did indeed become quiet along the border.” “The village is nearing its limit as well.” Hiruzen stated the reality calmly, one hand unconsciously rubbing the warm stem of his pipe.
The three-year stalemate along the border had cost Kumogakure far more than shinobi casualties on the front lines.
The Land of Lightning was dominated by mountains and possessed relatively little flat, arable land.
To maximize economic returns, much of its limited farmland had been devoted to cash crops.
Once relations with the Land of Fire deteriorated, however, food trade between the Land of Lightning and countries within Konoha’s sphere of influence had nearly collapsed.
On the surface, Konohagakure was merely a military organization that accepted commissions.
It had no formal authority to interfere in the Land of Fire’s domestic government, much less dictate policy to foreign nations.
But Shimura Danzō’s Root had never been particularly concerned with such formalities.
Its operatives struck from the shadows, intercepting caravans attempting to deliver supplies to the Land of Lightning and turning the captured goods into resources for Konoha itself.
With the overland trade routes effectively paralyzed, the Land of Lightning had been forced to rely heavily on maritime transport.
Food prices soared.
Everyday necessities became scarce.
The living standards of ordinary civilians plummeted.
Kumogakure’s reserves were still barely sufficient to maintain supplies to the front, but dissatisfaction had already spread throughout the rear.
The daimyō of the Land of Lightning had repeatedly pressured the Raikage over the deteriorating situation.
The Kumogakure raid that had wiped out Shuji’s previous squad had been one final desperate struggle from an exhausted force.
After that operation failed, the silence from Kumogakure’s side of the border was proof that they had finally run out of strength.
Konoha’s position was better in terms of food and material supplies, but years of warfare had become a grinding stone wearing away at the villagers’ patience and hope.
War-weariness was spreading silently through the village like wildfire.
Now that Kumogakure had extended an olive branch, Konoha had little reason to continue a war of attrition that had already pushed both sides to their limits.
“We’ve been short-handed for the past few years, and too many commissions have piled up,” Hiruzen continued, his voice returning to the cool, administrative tone of the Hokage.
“There have been increasing numbers of wandering shinobi around the Land of Woods and Izuke Port, and public order there has become unstable.” He looked directly at Danzō.
“Send Root personnel to investigate first.
Stabilize the situation.” “I’ll arrange it.” Danzō’s voice revealed no emotion.
He rose with the aid of his cane and turned away, his broad robes stirring a faintly cold draft through the room.
Two Root shinobi wearing animal masks emerged soundlessly from the shadows behind him.
Their presence was as still and lifeless as stagnant water.
The heavy door to the Hokage’s Office slid open.
Bright corridor light poured inside, briefly driving away the gloom and smoke.
And in that instant, where shadow and light met, Danzō came face-to-face with Shuji, who had just raised his hand to knock.
“Advisor.” Shuji stopped and gave a slight nod in greeting, his voice perfectly calm.
Danzō did not slow down in the slightest.
His single visible eye, sunken deep within its socket and sharp as a hawk’s, swept coldly over Shuji from head to toe—as though trying to pierce through flesh and bone and uncover every secret hidden beneath.
In the end, the elder merely gave an almost inaudible, ambiguous grunt.
“Hm.” Then he continued down the corridor with the two Root shinobi behind him, all three seeming to dissolve into the darkness like shadows merging with the walls.
Shuji watched until the three figures disappeared completely into the dim end of the corridor.
Only then did he turn away and enter the Hokage’s Office.
The mixed scent of tobacco and old paper immediately washed over him.
He approached the broad desk and gently placed down the folder he had prepared, containing his personal information and mission record from the past several years.
“Lord Hokage.” His voice broke the brief silence.
The gravity and exhaustion on Hiruzen’s face seemed to recede slightly.
He set down his pipe and regarded Shuji with the gentle expression of an elder speaking to a younger shinobi.
“You’re here.
As for the recommendation letters…” Hiruzen opened a drawer.
“Hayami and Kachi have already sent theirs in.” He removed two sealed scrolls and placed them at the corner of his desk.
“Your promotion assessment will be a specialized evaluation of your ninjutsu abilities.
You’ve always been particularly accomplished in elemental ninjutsu, so…” A faint smile touched the Hokage’s face.
“There shouldn’t be any problems, should there?” “No, Lord Hokage.
I’ll make the necessary preparations.” Shuji’s answer was crisp and straightforward, without unnecessary bravado.
“There’s one more thing.” As though suddenly remembering something, Hiruzen pulled another thin file from the drawer and handed it across the desk.
“This concerns another member of your team.
Because of certain…
special circumstances, the village hasn’t been able to place this child in a suitable squad for the time being.” He paused briefly.
“After considering the matter, I believe joining your team may be the most appropriate arrangement.” Shuji accepted the file and lowered his gaze to the photograph attached to the profile.
A girl with short purple hair stared back at him.
There was a trace of untamed wildness in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth seemed to carry a careless, almost defiant curve.
Mitarashi Anko.