"Hiruzen, what are you so afraid of?" Danzo's voice was cold and disdainful. "That brat has stood against us time and again. He's already our enemy. What's wrong with seizing the chance to eliminate him?"
He spoke without a shred of regret. In his mind, there was no wrongdoing—only failure. His only miscalculation was underestimating Ren Takashi.
"You know exactly what I mean!" the Third Hokage snapped, his expression dark as storm clouds. "Do you understand the consequences if you provoke her wrath? Or are you so far gone you'd risk igniting the fury of the Shuiyue Celestial herself?"
Danzo froze.
For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
He had forgotten.
He may act fearlessly in the shadows, but even he knew there were monsters better left unprovoked. Uzumaki Mito was not bound by office or bureaucracy. If she wanted him dead, she could—and no one, not even Hiruzen, would lift a hand to stop her.
The silence in the room grew thick.
"Tch."
Seeing Danzo's silence, the Third Hokage scoffed in disappointment. "Afraid now, are you? Then why act so boldly in the first place?"
His gaze sharpened. "Speak. I want to know everything you've done. If you keep hiding details and this spirals further, not even I will be able to protect you."
Danzo clenched his fists. He had no choice now.
So, he spilled it all.
He confessed to leaking information about Uzumaki Kushina and Ren Takashi to Cloud Shinobi's spies. He admitted to guiding them through a calculated flaw in Konoha's barrier network—one he himself orchestrated. And he revealed his plan to let Root act as the oriole behind the mantis, ready to intercept Cloud Shinobi after they'd done the dirty work.
"…You're sure both Cloud Shinobi elite teams vanished after entering Ren Takashi's training grounds?" Hiruzen asked slowly, eyes narrowing. "No signs of struggle?"
"Minimal. A few disrupted trees. That's all," Danzo replied grimly.
Hiruzen's silence spoke volumes. His mind was already racing ahead.
That a pair of elite enemy teams had been neutralized—quietly, cleanly—meant only one thing:
Ren Takashi had grown again. Drastically.
"I warned you," Danzo said, seizing the opening. "This is why I've advocated eliminating that boy early. He's too talented. Too fast. He's cultivating prodigies around him and seizing control over Konoha's power systems without even lifting a blade!"
"He's already beyond Chūnin. Perhaps even Jōnin. Given a few years… he may reach heights none of us can contain."
Hiruzen didn't speak. But his silence gave Danzo all the confirmation he needed.
"If that day comes," Danzo pressed, "do you think he'll spare us? You? Me? The elders? After all we've done to obstruct him?"
"No…" Hiruzen said at last. "No, he wouldn't."
It was a bitter truth. But one he could no longer ignore.
Danzo's eyes lit up. "Then you understand why I acted."
"But you acted alone," Hiruzen snapped. "You exposed our weakness. And you failed. Worse, now Root's involvement is known."
"Uchiha will retaliate. And Mito will know."
Danzo's mouth tightened.
This was the price of moving in the dark without consent. But what choice did he have?
"If you had just discussed this with me…" Hiruzen muttered, exhaling long through his pipe. "We could've coordinated. Instead, you've given Uchiha another reason to tighten their grip—and forced me to clean up your mess."
The Hokage closed his eyes. The weight of the village bore down on him, heavier than ever.
There was more at stake than just Ren Takashi's future.
Uzumaki Kushina was Konoha's designated Jinchūriki heir. If she had been kidnapped—and Hiruzen shuddered at how close that had come to passing—not only would they have lost Mito's legacy, but Cloud Shinobi could have created their own perfect Jinchūriki.
A new war could erupt before they were ready.
Mito's life was waning. Time was short.
And now, this incident had thrown everything into chaos.
"If war breaks out again," Hiruzen said bitterly, "it won't be because of some foreign grudge. It'll be because you sold our future for the sake of a gamble."
Danzo faltered.
He wanted to argue, but he knew—deep down—that the Third was right.
Still, he clung to the last scrap of hope. "Hiruzen… you're not giving up on this, are you?"
The question hung in the air like a poisoned dart.
Hiruzen looked up.
"Of course not," he said coldly. "But I'm not throwing myself into the fire over your recklessness either."
Danzo's eyes widened.
Hiruzen's words weren't a pardon. But they weren't a sentence, either.
Relief washed over him like rain over dry stone.
He nodded stiffly.
At least for now, he still had the Hokage's shield.