Chapter 43: Danzo Has Been Polluted! (Patreon)

Inside the Hokage Office, the soft golden light of the oil lamps cast long shadows across the room. The desk was piled high with scrolls and mission reports, evidence of the endless burdens of leadership. Outside, the night pressed in, thick and heavy, the stillness broken only by the faint rustle of paper as Hiruzen Sarutobi worked.

Then, like a ripple in stagnant water, a voice cut through the silence.

“Monkey.”

The tone was cold, commanding, and unmistakably familiar.

Hiruzen froze. His brush trembled in his hand, ink splattering across the report in front of him. Slowly, he lifted his head.

Standing in the middle of the room was a figure he thought he would never see again—silver hair cropped short, sharp features etched with sternness, and an aura so frigid it made the air itself grow heavy.

“T… Tobirama-sensei?”

Shock and disbelief flickered across Hiruzen’s eyes. He rubbed them quickly, half-expecting the image to fade like a hallucination. But no—the sharp gaze, the cold authority, the familiar oppressive presence of his teacher was undeniable.

It was real.

But how?

His first thought came with a surge of fury.

“That damned Orochimaru…” Hiruzen muttered, teeth clenched. “He actually dared to summon even you from the dead… unforgivable!”

Tobirama gave him a sidelong glance, lips curling with mocking disdain. “Indeed. A fine disciple you’ve raised. His ambitions reek of arrogance, but the fault lies with the teacher who failed to curb him.”

The words struck like a kunai to the heart. Hiruzen lowered his gaze, shame and helplessness clouding his face. He knew his sensei’s meaning, and it pierced him deeply. For years, he had turned a blind eye to Orochimaru’s darkness, unwilling to confront him until it was too late.

Tobirama stepped forward, each measured stride echoing with unspoken authority. His gaze swept the room and landed on the towering pile of paperwork cluttering the Hokage’s desk.

“Hmph.” A scornful sneer tugged at his lips. “So this is what you’ve become. Drowning yourself in documents while the village rots from within.”

“Sensei, I…”

Hiruzen wanted to defend himself, to explain the crushing weight of politics, the endless compromises, the delicate balance of power among the clans. But under Tobirama’s piercing gaze, the words withered in his throat.

Tobirama did not wait for an excuse. His voice cut like ice.

“If the Uchiha could not be controlled, they should have been eradicated cleanly. No hesitation. No survivors to sow future calamity. Whether Itachi or Sasuke, both are seeds of disaster.”

The name hung in the air like a curse.

“Since Uchiha Itachi awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, his brother Sasuke will inevitably follow the same path. If either gains the Eternal Mangekyō, they will become an unparalleled threat to Konoha.”

His words carried no malice—only grim certainty born from experience.

Tobirama turned toward the window, staring at the moonlit village below. His voice softened slightly, though anger still burned beneath the surface.

“The Uchiha massacre is done. Blaming you now serves no purpose. Even the subsequent chaos that threatens the entire shinobi world cannot be undone by regret. But what infuriates me—” his tone sharpened—“is that in the face of Uchiha Gen’s Mangekyō abilities, Konoha has conducted neither serious intelligence analysis nor devised countermeasures. Tell me, Monkey—what exactly have you been busy with all these years?”

Hiruzen opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no answer.

Decades of effort flashed through his mind—alliances forged, wars prevented, the fragile peace maintained. And yet, despite all his careful maneuvering, the foundation of the village trembled, threatened by forces he had failed to understand.

After a long silence, Tobirama’s gaze softened just slightly. He exhaled, a faint sigh escaping.

“Enough. Now is not the time for reproach.”

He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Danzo. That fool. He should be returning soon, should he not?”

The question startled Hiruzen. “Danzo…? He left the village?”

Tobirama’s glare darkened like a storm cloud. “You don’t even know? And you still dare call yourself Hokage?” His tone was cutting, merciless. “I just came from his so-called Root base. He is not there. He left Konoha without your knowledge or permission.”

Hiruzen’s heart sank. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Danzo had grown bolder and more secretive with every passing year, but this… this was outright betrayal.

Seeing his former student’s conflicted expression, Tobirama’s face grew even colder. “When he returns, summon him here. By your authority as Hokage.”

There was steel in his words, the weight of command impossible to ignore.

Hiruzen’s chest tightened. He could already feel the killing intent emanating from his teacher. It was subtle, restrained, but unmistakable.

“Sensei… are you intending to deal with Danzo?” His voice trembled with equal parts fear and hesitation.

Tobirama let out a mirthless laugh. “Deal with him? You still imagine him to be the companion of old? Foolish. Danzo has long since been corrupted by the Uchiha’s cursed eyes.”

“What did you say?”

Disbelief flashed across Hiruzen’s face.

Tobirama’s expression hardened. He recounted coldly how Danzo had secretly transplanted more than twenty Sharingan into his body, fusing them grotesquely with Hashirama’s cells to sustain their power.

“Preposterous!” Tobirama’s voice cracked like a whip. “To wield the Uchiha’s power without discipline is nothing but self-destruction. He has turned himself into a living amplifier for their ocular jutsu—a puppet awaiting the strings of Uchiha Gen.”

The words struck Hiruzen like a thunderbolt. His face drained of color. Though he had often disagreed with Danzo, though he had scorned his methods, he had never imagined his old comrade would fall this far.

And yet… deep in his heart, a darker thought stirred.

Tobirama had not mentioned one crucial fact. The other eye of Fugaku Uchiha rested in Hiruzen’s possession. He had accepted it from Danzo himself. The memory pricked at him now like a thorn, but he held his silence.

Tobirama studied him for a moment, then spoke in a voice heavy with warning.

“Monkey, hesitation is a luxury you can no longer afford. If Danzo has truly lost himself, he is no longer a man but a calamity waiting to devour Konoha from within.”

Hiruzen drew a long, steady breath. His old hands clenched into fists atop the desk. At last, he nodded. “I understand, Sensei.”

For a fleeting moment, Tobirama’s gaze softened, pride flickering in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual sternness.

“This crisis is beyond precedent. Even the slightest misstep will mean the village’s ruin.”

He turned, his sharp gaze falling on the bookshelves lining the office.

“Bring me Uchiha Gen’s Academy assignments. Every scrap of paper he ever submitted.”

Hiruzen blinked, surprised. “Sensei, those are just student essays. Surely—”

“Monkey!” Tobirama’s voice cracked like a whip. “Do you still think I waste words? Do you think I care about petty bureaucratic records? The boy hid his thoughts where none of you bothered to look. Fetch them!”

Shame burning in his chest, Hiruzen sighed and walked to the cabinet. He retrieved a thick stack of files, worn at the edges, and handed them over.

Tobirama spread the documents across the desk, flipping through page after page with practiced precision. His eyes were sharp, scanning every line, every curve of ink. For long moments the room was silent, the only sound the rustle of turning paper.

Then, suddenly, his hands stilled.

“Found it.”

Forming a rapid sequence of hand seals, he summoned a fine mist of water that clung to the parchment. The ink began to shimmer, the characters twisting and warping until new words bled through, hidden beneath the surface.

The essay transformed into something else entirely. The message that emerged sent a chill through both men:

【Congratulations, you’ve discovered what I truly wished to say. People adore lies, so I play along. I am still only a student, after all. But I grow weary of this farce. At times I am painfully sincere, so sincere I wish only to reveal my true self. Afraid of the Uchiha massacre? It doesn’t matter. What is death? Everyone dies eventually. Perhaps I am already dead.】

The room seemed to darken. Hiruzen’s face paled, his eyes wide with disbelief. “This… this is…”

Tobirama closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. When he spoke, there was both anger and admiration in his voice.

“What remarkable chakra control. Even you, the Hokage, were deceived. This child, at such a young age, could mask his intentions within the very strokes of his handwriting. It is a mastery of deception I did not anticipate.”

Hiruzen bowed his head, his voice heavy with guilt. “I truly… never noticed.”

Tobirama turned toward the window again, his profile cast in cold moonlight. His voice dropped, grim and unyielding.

“Uchiha Gen is far more dangerous than we imagined. His thoughts, his methods… they are unlike any Uchiha before him. Even I cannot fully fathom his endgame.”

A rare shiver traced down his spine.

But his resolve did not waver.

“In any case,” Tobirama declared, “Danzo must be dealt with first. The cluster of Sharingan festering in his body has become nothing more than an amplifier for Uchiha Gen’s cursed power.”

Hiruzen’s chest tightened. Reluctance tugged at him. Memories surfaced—battles fought side by side, long debates in candlelit rooms, Danzo’s unwavering if ruthless dedication to Konoha. And the moment Danzo had entrusted him with Fugaku’s eye…

Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly, sighing from the depths of his weary soul.

The choice before him was clear.

And it was merciless.


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