Prologue
“Shinobi are those who endure, forged in the crucibles of Darkness and Despair.
But what of those pushed beyond the very edge?”
ooooooooo0000O0000ooooooooo
As Danzo's consciousness emerged from the depths of slumber, a throbbing headache assaulted his senses, reminiscent of a relentless bombardment of those rock chugging imps of Iwagakure. His eyes fluttered open, only to find himself lying on a bed. Disoriented, he attempted to collect his bearings, only to be assaulted with a deluge of memories, flooding his mind like vivid, haunting dreams.
Faces of those under his command and those yet to be, individuals he had deemed threats and others traitors to the village, flashed before him. Some had their fates sealed by his hand, a task he viewed necessary, and others felled on their duty. Successful and failed missions that would be executed for the village's safety, their weight and importance.
Then came memories of Orochimaru's treacherous assault alongside the Sand Village against Konoha, the death of Hiruzen by the hands of the threat he once chose to spared, the ascension of Tsunade as the Hokage—these pivotal events etched themselves into his consciousness. The betrayal of Uchiha Sasuke, who had forsaken the village to align with Orochimaru. And then there were the looming shadows of Akatsuki, their sinister plot to abduct the bijuu and unleash chaos upon the world. Their enigmatic leader, calling himself Pain, a harbinger of destruction wielding the legendary Rinnegan, as he nearly reduced the village to ruins, and the man with the mask, who was probably even more of a threat to the village and to the world. The failed Kage summit meeting, and his tempestuous clash with Uchiha Sasuke resonated within him, an encounter fraught with dire consequences, as he underestimated the boy’s power, one that had costed him his…
An icy chill gripped his heart, eliciting a profuse sweat that drenched the robe adorning his form. The sensation of his demise lingered, threatening to consume him.
"Lord Danzo," A voice ,devoid of any emotion, shattered the suffocating silence, snapping him back to reality. His eyes darted towards the source of the sound, locking onto the figure kneeling before him, a woman he was very familiar with.
“The eye transplant and Reverse tetragram seal application went according to your instructions.” His gaze analyzed her features, noting her attire that bore semblance to that of a nun. Brown hair concealed under a habit, her eyes hidden behind a pair of circular glasses. Nono Yakushi, someone he had once dispose of, yet who now knelt subserviently before him again. Still very much threat. Just like the nuisance her adopted son would come to be to him.
The intrusive memories he experienced and the appearance of this woman triggered an instinctive surge of vigilance within Danzo's veins. He scrutinized his own body, searching for any irregularities or signs of manipulation. It was a few weeks after the Uchiha massacre that he chose to transplant himself with Shisui’s sharingan and a seal to forever lock it’s power away. Activating the Sharingan embedded in his right eye, he tapped into the power of Kotoamatsukami, finding solace in its familiar soothing effects. A powerful genjutsu capable of changing the very course of events with but a glance.
Yet, a lingering sense of unease persisted. In his memories, he had sealed the eye, its power never to be harnessed again. But the eye now, was exactly the same as he recalled. The feeling of control it gave, the subtlety of its power. But the Mangekyo was not without weakness, nor was it the only one in existence.
Determined to eliminate any lingering doubts, he activated one of the eyes concealed within his arm, invoking Izanagi, in case of any outside effects altering his perception.
Unaware of the actions and internal turmoil plaguing Danzo's mind, Nono remained in her submissive position, awaiting further instructions. Little did she know that her presence had ignited a maelstrom of questions and speculations within the recesses of his thoughts.
‘Could this be the result of the Tetragram Seal's influence, or was it the work of Shisui, who had surreptitiously planted these fabricated memories through his Sharingan, manipulating him.’ for some nefarious plot? Countless scenarios swirled through his consciousness, ranging from insidious genjutsu meticulously crafted to extract crucial information or manipulate his actions, to the abhorrent notion that an inscrutable power had chosen him as a pawn in a grand design.
As his mind delved deeper into the labyrinthine recesses of his thoughts, Danzo's suspicions festered like a plague. The memories that flooded his consciousness, once believed to be his own, now seemed like cunning manipulations orchestrated by unseen forces. Was he merely a puppet, dancing to the whims of a higher power? The notion gnawed at his soul, stoking the flames of paranoia and reinforcing his inclination towards secrecy and subterfuge.
His gaze hardened, and he regarded Nono again. She remained obedient, unaware of the turmoil festering within the recesses of his mind. Danzo had always been one to keep his cards close to his chest, never revealing his true intentions to anyone, not even those who served under him. In this dark and treacherous world of shinobi, loyalty was a scarce commodity, even with all the lengths he went to ensure such, and one wrong move could lead to catastrophic consequences.
Silence enveloped the room as Danzo contemplated his next move. The weight of responsibility bore heavily upon his shoulders, for he knew that in order to navigate the treacherous path ahead, sacrifices would have to be made. Betrayal and deceit were constants in the tapestry of war, and he was no stranger to their cruel embrace. His gaze shifted from Nono to the scars etched across his body, each mark a testament to the battles he had fought and the sacrifices he had made for the village.
He was familiar with this weight, he welcomed it. His duty was to the village, nothing else mattered.
-+-+-+
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Danzo meticulously retraced his steps, reenacting certain events and experimenting with subtle actions he had never taken before. It was a delicate dance, a strategic game of trial and error. Each move allowed him to gather valuable insights and confirm his speculations, gradually unraveling the truth behind the enigmatic memories plaguing him.
‘Could it be that the seal compressed the entire memories between the moment it was applied to when it would be activated?’ It reminded him of the prophecies Jiraiya’s summons claim to experience. It was a conclusion that compelled him to now confront the impending challenges that awaited Konoha, regardless of the lingering doubts that still remained.
Whether he received memories of his future self, or someone is trying to take information from his memories, he would proceed as though both are the likely scenario.
Now came thoughts on the fate of the village, the fragile threads that held it together amidst the unending storm of war.
Two figures loomed prominently in his thoughts—the indomitable Pain, leader of Akatsuki in Amegakure, with his legendary Rinnegan, and the elusive masked man, the puppeteer behind the scenes, possessing a fearsome Mangekyo Sharingan capable of manipulating space and time. These formidable adversaries posed a significant threat to the village, and Danzo recognized his lack of power to deal with them directly.
“Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha, and Orochimaru...” Danzo's mind swirled with calculated schemes, envisioning a strategic web that would pit these individuals against each other. With a hand to Orochimaru, Danzo could see how it would topple all three of them.
As his thoughts unraveled, Danzo's attention turned to a piece on the board that had once been a disappointment with no promise, ‘A failure incapable of mastering the most basic jutsu or the immense power within him.’ Uzumaki Naruto.
The boy had emerged as an unexpected force, mastering Sage Mode in a within only a week to face and defeating the leader of Akatsuki. The reports he had received about Naruto's initial incompetence and failures as a shinobi in his academy and genin years had left him severely unimpressed. But the events surrounding Naruto's confrontation with Pain had shattered Danzo's preconceptions, revealing the boy's hidden potential.
A contemplative hand reached up to touch the bandages that concealed his Sharingan eye. He acknowledged that Naruto, despite his mediocre beginnings, possessed the potential to become a formidable shinobi—one capable of mastering powerful arts that few had ever achieved. If he could exert control over the boy while still young, molding him and guiding him along the right path, then perhaps Konoha could be saved from its impending doom.
‘The man calling himself had used his sharingan to manipulate both the Mizukage and his bijuu into being a perfect jinchuriki, perhaps I could do the same with the boy and Kyubi.’ Sai had also made him learn how close relationships could lead to even the most conditioned loyal agent, into betrayal. The boy would need to be emotionally distanced from his past connections, the academy instructor, his previous team, as well as both the Sannin.
To Danzo, emotions were a liability in the life of a shinobi. A true weapon was one devoid of independent thoughts or external influences, an instrument solely dedicated to serving the village's cause. However, he has to proceed cautiously, ensuring that his actions went unnoticed by Hiruzen. Despite the Hokage's waning power and age, Danzo never underestimated the potential threat his old friend posed to anyone he deemed an enemy.
With a resolute determination, Danzo rose from his hidden sanctuary, stepping into the outside world. The time for plans and calculations had reached its zenith—it was time to set in motion the most critical phase of his grand design, meeting Uzumaki Naruto.
ox0xo
The start of every month, was Naruto’s favorite day, well, second only to his insatiable love for ramen. Being an orphan, he was raised in the village's orphanage, where all the orphans received necessary care and basic education. However, those who chose the path of a shinobi were granted their own apartments and a monthly stipend, which was considered an investment in their future, a loan.
Naruto, at the tender age of seven, barely comprehended the significance of these arrangements. To him, the monthly stipend simply meant money in his pocket. It was a lifeline that allowed him to survive. Over time, he had learned the importance of budgeting his funds, ensuring he could stretch his meager allowance to last the entire month. He carefully calculated how much ramen he could afford and always made sure to stock up on his beloved cup noodles, cartons of milk and whatever else.
"Let's see..." Naruto murmured to himself as he peeked inside his worn-out toad wallet. "I've got enough for one or maybe two bowls of Ichiraku Ramen. That'll be a nice treat." A wide grin spread across his face, concealing the underlying struggles and hardships he faced.
Naruto cherished his visits to Ichiraku, a renowned ramen stand in the village. The tantalizing aroma of the noodles and the rich broth never failed to awaken his senses. Although he couldn't afford to indulge frequently, each visit felt like a special occasion, a temporary escape from the judgment and isolation that plagued his everyday life.
As Naruto trudged towards his apartment, the atmosphere seemed desolate, mirroring his own solitude. The other residents, too few for such a large dilapidated building, were mostly orphans who had no inheritance or familial ties to afford the better ones. He would occasionally hear the whispers among them as he passed by. Their disdain and scorn were palpable, but Naruto had grown accustomed to their silent animosity. He had learned to ignore those in turn, as they never did much with all their hate’ He never knew why they hated him, and it didn’t matter.
"I'll show them. I'll become the greatest shinobi ever," Naruto whispered under his breath, fueling his fantasies with thoughts of the revered Hokage, the village's leader whom everyone feared and respected. In his daydreams, Naruto found solace, a fleeting respite from the reality that weighed heavily upon him, “greater than all the Hokage ever.”
After entering his sparsely furnished apartment, Naruto quickly stashed away his few belongings. Today was not the day to dwell on his hardships. Today, he would savor the simple pleasure of a hot bowl of ramen at Ichiraku's.
As he approached the familiar stand, Naruto noticed an unfamiliar figure, an old man occupying one of the seats. The man's expression was void of any interest in the food, as he stared blankly at the seemingly untouched bowl of ramen before him. Naruto couldn't comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to such a delicious food. The man was practically covered in bandages, and his arm was in a sling. ‘Maybe he can’t eat because he’s too sick.’
"Hey Old man, one bowl of Miso ramen!" Naruto cheerfully called out, hoping to elicit the usual warm response from the restaurant owner. However, today, Teuchi's voice lacked its usual vigor as he mumbled a subdued acknowledgment. Naruto couldn't help but notice the tremor in Teuchi's hands as he placed the bowl in front of him and hastily retreated.
Curiosity burned within Naruto as he glanced at the enigmatic customer again. Their eyes met, albeit for a brief moment, yet it felt as if time itself had momentarily frozen. A disconcerting sensation passed through Naruto, like an echo of thoughts delivered to his mind. The moment the sensation disappeared and he regarded his surroundings once more, the old man was nowhere to be seen, bowl of ramen abandoned and money beside it.
"Eh! Was he that sick? He didn’t even eat anything." Naruto said, genuine concern etched on his face, as Teuchi emerged from the back, a mixture of relief and weariness evident on his features. "Why would someone leave behind a whole bowl of ramen?"
Teuchi sighed and mustered a faint smile, a blend of resignation and affection for the young boy. "That was Lord Danzo, one of the village council elders. It would be wise for you to show him respect, Naruto." He paused, his gaze clouded with worry. ‘But there's something strange happening. He's been coming here lately, ordering food but never taking a single bite. He stays for a few minutes and then abruptly leaves. It's... unsettling.’
Naruto's eyes widened at the information. However, "Well, never mind that! Old man Teuchi, one more bowl of ramen, please!"
Teuchi's weariness melted into a genuine smile at Naruto's infectious enthusiasm. "Ahahaha! I'll give you an extra big one this time!" He chuckled, blissfully unaware of the foreboding shadows that lurked beneath Naruto's seemingly carefree demeanor.
As Naruto immersed himself in the taste of his beloved ramen, he allowed the events of the day to fade into the background. He momentarily forgot the lingering darkness that threatened to envelop him, focusing instead on the present, relishing the fleeting moments of respite his simple pleasures afforded. He did not pay any mind to an intrusive thought planted to his thoughts. He didn’t know that this day would mark the beginning of a journey that would test his resilience, shatter his illusions, and shape him into something far more formidable than he could ever imagine.
But at what cost?...