The building looked about as threatening as a tax office on a Tuesday afternoon. Three stories of weathered stone and mismatched windows, squeezed between a dumpling shop that smelled like heaven and what had to be a pharmacy based on the medicinal herb scents wafting from its doorway. If someone had told me this was where they processed merchant permits or handled civilian complaints, I would've nodded and asked where to take a number.
It was a smart choice of venue. You can't exactly drag potential recruits to some underground torture dungeon and expect cooperation. Bad for the sales pitch.
The building itself was disappointingly ordinary. Three stories of gray stone with neat window boxes that someone actually watered. If I hadn't been personally escorted here by someone wearing a porcelain mask, I'd have walked right past it without a second glance.
The interior was just as mundane. Polished floors, generic landscape paintings on the walls that wouldn't look out of place in any building across the five great nations. Hell, they even had a living room with fake flowers.
My escort gestured toward a staircase. "Please."
I walked up, boots clicking against wooden steps that had been waxed recently enough to still smell like lemon polish. The hallway at the top stretched narrow and clean, with doors spaced evenly along both sides like a hotel for people with very nasty secrets. Most had frosted glass panels that revealed absolutely nothing, which was probably the point.
We stopped outside a wooden door. The Anbu knocked twice, and before long a voice from inside said, "Enter."
The door opened to reveal an office that could have belonged to any mid-level administrator in any village. Wooden desk covered in neat stacks of papers. Filing cabinets along one wall. A single window overlooking the street, with thin curtains that filtered the afternoon light into something appropriately mundane.
And there, standing by that window with his back to me like some discount villain from a stage play, was Danzo Shimura himself.
He turned as I entered, giving me my first real look at the man behind the reputation. About Hiruzen's age, maybe a few years older, with gray threading through dark hair that he kept pulled back in what was probably supposed to project dignity but mostly just made him look like someone's stern uncle who'd lecture you about financial responsibility at family dinners.
"Shinji, have a seat."
He gestured toward the couch while settling into the chair across from it like he was hosting a book club instead of whatever this actually was. Professional distance, but arranged to suggest a pleasant conversation rather than an interrogation. The man knew his staging.
I took the offered seat, sinking into cushions that were probably more expensive than my entire apartment. "Danzo-sama. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to hear from an elder."
"I imagine not." A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But your recent activities have been noteworthy. Despite your age, you've accomplished quite a lot."
I kept my tone modest, though the compliment felt like bait dangling from a very sharp hook. "I think you might be giving me too much credit, sir. My most recent mission was a complete disaster."
"Ah yes, the escort assignment." Danzo's expression didn't shift by so much as an eyelash. "A regrettable situation, certainly. But I think you're being too hard on yourself."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled like he was about to deliver a sermon. "Simple missions have a way of becoming complex very quickly in wartime. What should have been a routine supply run became something far more dangerous. The fact that you not only protected your team but eliminated an entire Kumo squad..." He let that hang in the air for a moment. "That's something even seasoned jonin would struggle with."
"I got lucky." I met his gaze. "They underestimated us, and we managed to turn it around. But we still lost people. Good people."
"War is never without cost." He said it like he was discussing the weather. "The question is whether those costs serve a purpose. In your case, they clearly did."
Danzo shifted forward slightly, hands clasped. "Tell me, Shinji. Are you satisfied with your current position? Leading a team of genin, taking assignments appropriate for your rank?"
I tilted my head. "What do you mean, sir?"
This felt like the setup to a job offer I really didn't want to receive.
"I mean," he said, still looking out at the street, "that it seems like a waste. A genin with your capabilities, spending time babysitting teammates who can't match your level. Don't you find it... limiting?"
There it was. The opening gambit.
"My team's gotten pretty good," I said carefully. "We work well together."
"I'm sure they have their strengths. But consider the alternative. ANBU service would provide training more suited to your abilities. Missions that actually challenge you. The chance to serve the village in ways that few can."
I tilted my head slightly. "I thought you had to be chunin to join ANBU?"
His smile came quick and smooth. "You're absolutely right. But if you were interested, I could recommend you for immediate promotion to chunin. That would open the door to ANBU candidacy."
I let my eyes widen just enough to sell it. "That's... a pretty significant offer."
"For significant talent." Danzo's smile had this perfect balance, warm enough to seem genuine, controlled enough to make you think he didn't throw around offers like this every Tuesday. "The village needs shinobi who can handle unconventional situations, especially with all the chaos and wars Konoha's been dragged into lately. Your recent performance suggests you have exactly that capability."
Yep. It looked like I'd been underestimating the guy. No heavy-handed recruitment speech or barely-veiled threats about village loyalty. Just a clean, official recommendation through proper channels, making it look like natural career advancement instead of what it really was, a calculated move to get me under his thumb where he could work on me properly.
And he'd been clever enough not to mention the obvious elephant in the room - that Kumo might target my team again specifically because of their association with me. He could have pointed out how my presence put Mikoto and Tsume in danger, used their safety as leverage to push me toward accepting. But that would have sounded like a threat, even if it was true. Instead, he'd focused entirely on advancement and opportunity, letting me draw my own conclusions about the risks.
That restraint told me everything I needed to know about how dangerous Danzo really was. A cruder manipulator would have pushed harder, made it about protecting my teammates. Danzo had the patience to let me convince myself.
I thought about what I remembered from the show. Itachi had been in ANBU when Danzo started sinking his claws into him. Long-term exposure, gradual manipulation, turning that kid's dedication to the village into a blade he'd eventually drive through his own family's heart. The village elders probably did have some pull over ANBU operations, or at least Danzo had carved out enough influence to make his little pet projects work.
Once I was inside ANBU, keeping tabs on my every move would be child's play. Steering my missions toward whatever served his agenda. Turning me into another one of his useful little tools.
"What kind of training are we talking about?" I asked, leaning forward just enough to sell the interest. "Would there be access to advanced jutsus? S-rank jutsu, maybe something from the Scroll of Seals?"
Danzo went quiet for a second, and his smile shifted, less politician, more genuine amusement. Like I'd just asked exactly the question he'd been waiting for. "Simply joining ANBU doesn't grant access to the most restricted jutsu. Members receive specialized training, stealth, infiltration, interrogation, poisons, advanced seal work. Skills suited to their mission requirements."
I let my expression drop, shoulders sagging like someone had just crushed my dreams with a particularly heavy rock. "Ah. I was hoping..."
"However." He drew the word out slow, watching my face. "Jutsu of that caliber are controlled by the Hokage. And occasionally, by the village elders when circumstances warrant it." His smile stretched wider. "Exceptional service in ANBU has been known to earn special privileges. I might be inclined to speak on your behalf, should you prove yourself worthy."
Well, would you look at that. The old bastard really knew how to work an angle. If I were actually some ambitious genin looking for the fast track to power, I'd probably be mentally signing up already. Hell, the offer was tempting even knowing what it really was, ANBU training would definitely speed up my development, and the missions were exactly the kind of work I was already doing with my clone network anyway.
But here's the thing, I didn't actually need his shortcuts. Not with Moryo sealed up inside me, pumping energy to my clones and giving me capabilities that would only get stronger. Becoming as powerful as the Hokage wasn't a matter of if, just when. And I could get there without letting this walking war crime pull my strings.
More importantly, I genuinely liked hanging out with my team. Mikoto, Tsume, even dealing with Tsunade's mood swings, they were more entertaining than any jutsu he could dangle in front of me. The relationships I'd built weren't something I was willing to trade away just so some old hawk could have another pet shinobi to point at his problems.
"That's..." I rubbed the back of my neck, making sure to look like someone wrestling with a life-changing decision. "Really tempting... But I'm not sure. I never really thought about becoming ANBU."
Danzo's expression went softer, like a patient teacher watching some kid struggle through long division. "Of course it is. And this isn't a decision to make lightly. Take some time to consider your options. When you're ready, let me know your decision."
I nodded, giving him a polite bow. "Thank you for the opportunity, Danzo-sama. I'll give it some serious thought."
He nodded once. "Good. Until next time."
Right on cue, the door swung open from outside, his ANBU shadow holding it like some kind of creepy doorman.
I nodded at the masked figure and walked out into the hallway, my footsteps echoing off cheap linoleum as I headed for the stairs.
The afternoon sun hit my face when I stepped outside, and I took a deep breath, trying to wash away that suffocating feeling of being locked in a room with experienced predator. The whole conversation had been smoother than I'd expected from Danzo. Professional, calculated to make me feel special while keeping all the nasty bits buried underneath.
But knowing his game didn't make it any less creepy. Danzo had been watching me, studying my moves. He knew about the Kumo ambush, knew enough about what I could do to make targeted offers. Which probably meant he knew everything Hiruzen knew, and that pissed me off even more than the recruitment attempt. The old Hokage was supposed to be keeping village secrets, not letting his sus colleague build detailed files on me.
...
Twenty minutes later, I was sinking into the steaming water of Konoha's onsen, letting the heat work its way into muscles that had been wound tighter than I'd realized. The place was practically empty, just a few old guys at the far end, probably debating rice prices or complaining about their wives or whatever kept old men busy when they weren't being old men.
My mind drifted back to the Kumo ambush. That moment when the bastard's sword punched straight through my chest. The gut-punch feeling of watching Mikoto take steel to the ribs, seeing Tsume get ragdolled like she weighed nothing. How damn close we'd come to losing everything because I wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough, wasn't ready for the real world to come knocking with sharp objects.
Sure, we'd survived. Hell, we'd won. But what about next time?
The thing was, I actually liked spending time with Mikoto and Tsume. More than liked it, if I was being honest with myself. The quiet moments between trying not to die, watching Mikoto's face light up when she tried something I'd cooked, listening to Tsume spin ridiculous stories about whatever stupid thing Kuromaru had done that day. Those moments felt... nice.
But they also scared the hell out of me sometimes.
Because every mission was another roll of the dice. Another chance for enemies to figure out that the best way to hurt me was to hurt them first and make me watch. Another situation where I'd have to scramble to keep everyone breathing while people I actually gave a damn about bled out in front of me.
What if Kumo sent another squad? What if they showed up better prepared this time, with more jonin, better intel, a plan that didn't bank on underestimating some genin team? What if next time I wasn't fast enough to save them?
Joining ANBU would fix that problem. More importantly, it would give me some distance from the team. Space that might actually keep them alive.
The ugly truth was that I'd painted a target on my back. Sure, I wasn't actually the Nine-Tails jinchuriki, but being mistaken for one wasn't exactly a distinction that mattered when people were trying to kill you. Kumo had sent a full squad of elite shinobi just to put me in the ground, and other villages would probably reach the same brilliant conclusion eventually.
I was basically Kushina now. A walking nuclear weapon that enemies would hunt, along with anyone unlucky enough to be in the fallout zone when they came calling.
The choice wasn't really about advanced training or political games. It was about whether I was willing to put distance between myself and the people I cared about. ANBU operated independently, took solo missions, worked in small specialized teams full of antisocial weirdos rather than sticking with the same three-person unit day after day.
But accepting meant dancing to Danzo's tune. Playing his games, following his agenda, potentially screwing over everything I actually valued about my current situation.
I dipped my head back into the water and let out a long groan, watching bubbles rise to the surface and pop one after another, a perfect representation of how my brain felt right now. The hot water was washing away the day's sweat and grime, but it wasn't doing shit for the knot of doubt sitting in my chest like a lead weight.
Either choice felt like stepping into a trap. Stay with the team and keep them in danger. Join ANBU and lose what made life here worth living. Win-win, except both wins were actually losses dressed up in different clothes.
The sound of footsteps on wet stone killed my internal pity party. Two kids, maybe thirteen or fourteen, slipped into the water about ten feet away. Brothers or cousins, judging by their matching features, those narrow eyes and black hair that practically had "Nara clan" stamped across their foreheads in permanent ink.
They settled into the water with those exaggerated sighs that only teenagers could pull off, immediately launching into full complaint mode.
"I'm so tired," the shorter one muttered, rubbing at his eyes like they were made of sandpaper. "Sensei's been pushing us twice as hard lately. Extra training every single day until my chakra's completely shot."
"Tell me about it," his cousin replied, sounding equally miserable. "And it's not just training. Have you noticed how weird everyone's been acting at home?"
The first kid nodded like his head was going to fall off. "Dad's been away on missions more and more, and when he's actually back home, he's having these long meetings that go way past midnight. And Mom keeps making these worried faces when she thinks nobody's looking."
"Same here." The other guy's eyebrows shot up. "You have any idea why?"
"No clue, but they look really nervous about something." The kid dropped his voice "You think it has something to do with the war?"
"Probably. But there's no way we lose, right? Konoha's the strongest—my dad said so."
"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying." The older one made air quotes, frustration dripping from every word. "But my mom just keeps brushing me off when I ask questions. Just says 'focus on your training' and 'don't worry about adult business.' Like they think we're too stupid to understand what's going on."
I kept my shoulders relaxed while continuing to blow bubbles, playing the part of someone just enjoying a soak while their conversation drifted over. But my interest was definitely hooked. I let out a soft groan and sat up slightly, stretching like I was working out some muscle kink.
"Sorry, couldn't help but overhear," I said, shooting them a sympathetic look. "You guys sound about as frustrated as I've been lately."
They both turned toward me, faces going slightly red, caught bitching about their families to a stranger.
"Oh, uh..." The older kid shot a quick glance at his cousin. "We weren't trying to be loud or anything."
"Don't worry about it," I waved it off like it was nothing. "Trust me, I get it. My cousin's been dealing with the exact same kind of thing with his clan."
The younger kid's interest perked up immediately. "Really? Which clan?"
"Senju," I said, settling back into the water with a casual shrug. "Well, distant relations anyway. But yeah, apparently all the adults have been acting super weird lately. Secret meetings, hushed conversations, the whole package deal."
Complete bullshit, of course, but they didn't need to know that.
Both cousins exchanged one of those meaningful looks that siblings were so good at.
"See?" the younger one said to his cousin. "It's not just us."
"What kind of weird behavior?" the older kid asked, leaning forward like he was finally talking to someone who might actually understand.
I put on my best thoughtful expression, like I was digging through memories for the juicy details. Then I basically fed their own words back to them with a few creative additions thrown in.
They nodded along like I was confirming their worst suspicions.
"That sounds exactly like what's happening with us," the younger one said. "Except our parents keep insisting everything's fine and we should just concentrate on getting stronger."
"Yeah, because nothing says 'everything's fine' like clan meetings every other night," his cousin added sarcastically.
I chuckled like we were all suffering through the same bullshit together. "Adults, right? They think if they don't explain what's happening, we won't notice that they're all stressed out of their minds."
"Exactly!" The younger kid waved his hands around, splashing water everywhere. "Like, we're not blind. We can see when something's wrong."
"So your elders have been acting strange too?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. "Any idea what they might be worried about? Notice anything weird?"
Wait, why am I even asking? It's not like these kids would know anything useful. But old habits died hard, I guess. Something about gathering information from unexpected sources, building a complete picture from fragments… probably leftover instincts from my previous life.
The older brother shrugged, water rolling off his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, I've tried listening at doors and stuff, but they're too smart for that. All I can tell is that they're worried about something, but they stop talking whenever we get too close. It's super annoying."
Now that was interesting. I nudged the conversation along with a few well-placed questions and sympathetic nods, letting them think they were just venting to someone who got it.
His cousin jumped in. "And Uncle Masao's been working late every night. I haven't seen him around much lately, and when he is home, he's buried in these huge piles of papers in his study. The clan head used to visit my house to talk with him all the time, but he stopped coming about a week ago."
"Sounds stressful," I said, filing away the names for later. "My friend mentioned his relatives have been doing something similar."
"Really?" The older kid looked intrigued.
"That's what he told me." I kept my face innocently puzzled, like I was just as confused as they were. "Honestly, I don't really understand what they're dealing with, but it seems pretty important."
The conversation died off, leaving us soaking in hot water while my brain chewed on what these kids had just handed me.
I sat there processing their little info dump. Some of it sounded like standard wartime bullshit, Konoha was neck-deep in conflict, adults getting shipped off to die in foreign dirt every week, everyone pulling double shifts just to keep the village from collapsing. Made perfect sense that the Nara would be stressed and holding emergency meetings until their eyes bled. But the part about Uncle Masao suddenly going MIA and the clan head suddenly stopping his visits? That felt like something more.
Still, the thing was, I didn't really give a damn about whatever political mess the Nara had gotten themselves into. What bugged me was whether the Uchiha might be dealing with their own pile of shit, especially with Danzo's obvious hard-on for screwing them over. Canon said nothing major should happen to Kushina or Mikoto at this point in the timeline, but the butterfly effect was as real as a heart attack, and I'd already stirred up enough trouble to make a hurricane look like a light breeze.
The thought of walking away from my team to join ANBU while some backstage political bloodbath was brewing made my stomach do unpleasant things. Sure, distance might keep them safer from the psychos hunting me, but what if it just left them exposed to a completely different kind of danger? What if Danzo was already making moves against the Uchiha, and I'd be too busy playing his assassin to notice until it was too late?
But then again, sitting here doing nothing wasn't exactly a winning strategy either. Every day I stayed on Team Seven was another day I painted a bigger target on their backs. Another chance for some foreign village to figure out that hurting them was the fastest way to hurt me.
And hell, if I was being honest, the ANBU training would be damn useful. Better skills, better missions, access to intelligence networks I couldn't even smell as a genin. Maybe even a shot at figuring out what Danzo was really cooking up before it exploded in everyone's faces.
Wait. I shifted in the water, steam curling around me as the gears finally clicked into place. Why the hell was I treating this like I had to pick one option? I had a clone network that could be anywhere, do anything, watch anyone without breaking a sweat. I didn't have to choose between joining ANBU and keeping my team breathing.
I could do both.
A few of my clones could shadow Mikoto and Tsume, staying close enough to intervene if things went sideways. Hell, they could even help with training, missions, whatever normal Team Seven stuff they'd be doing without me. The clones were getting stronger every day thanks to Moryo and Kage Bunshin, strong enough to handle most threats that didn't involve S-rank shinobi showing up with genocide on their minds.
The water suddenly felt just right, and for the first time since walking out of that meeting with Danzo, I felt like I could actually breathe properly. So be it. ANBU. I'd wear the mask, walk the shadows, and let Danzo think he had me right where he wanted. In truth, it would put me right where I needed to be, close enough to protect my people, and close enough to see exactly what he was plotting.
Two birds, one very annoyed stone.
And just like that, the conversation devolved into typical genin complaints about training schedules and annoying missions. I listened politely, making the right sympathetic noises while my brain filed away the actually useful stuff they'd accidentally spilled.
After another fifteen minutes of listening to them bitch about chakra control exercises and enjoying the hot water working the knots out of my shoulders, I made my excuses and climbed out of the onsen.
"Good luck with the extra training," I told them as I grabbed my towel.
"Thanks," the older kid said with a grin. "Don't cry if your legs get sore."
"Same to you," I shot back. "Try not to pee your pants when your sensei yells at you."
They both cracked up and waved as I headed toward the changing room
...
The evening air bit at my skin when I stepped back onto the street, a sharp contrast to the onsen's warmth. My muscles felt loose and heavy from the hot water, and my brain had finally stopped running in circles now that I'd actually made a decision about something.
My thoughts wandered to sake, and then to my clone's progress, wondering if the bastard had made it to Tanzaku Quarters yet. My whiskey plan was still a pipe dream, so in the meantime I figured I'd stick with what worked.
My feet knew the way to the tavern without input from my increasingly sleepy brain. Tanaka glanced up from his glass-polishing ritual, already reaching for the shelf where he kept the decent stuff.
"Evening, Shinji. The usual?"
"Make it double." I dropped onto a barstool that had molded itself to my ass over the years.
His eyebrow went up, but he kept his mouth shut. Just wrapped the bottles carefully and slid them across the counter. "Rough mission?"
"Something like that." I left payment on the bar and tucked the bottles inside my glove. "Thanks, Tanaka-san."
"Take care of yourself, kid."
Back home, I stashed three bottles in the kitchen cabinet, insurance for darker days ahead, and cracked open the fourth, pouring myself a healthy glass before collapsing onto the couch.
The sake burned its way down my throat, the complex flavors lingering pleasantly as the warmth spread through my chest. Even though I'd decided to take Danzo's offer and join the ANBU, there was no rush. Tomorrow, next week—whenever. Today, I didn't want to think about any of it.
Rome wasn't built in a day. Tomorrow could handle itself. Tonight belonged to me and this bottle.
...
Something was poking my cheek.
I groaned and tried to burrow deeper into my pillow, but whatever was attacking my face wasn't giving up. My head felt like someone had used it for taijutsu practice, and my mouth tasted like I'd been licking the bottom of a sake barrel.
"Shinji. Shinji, wake up."
That voice was familiar. Female, with just a hint of an accent...
My eyes cracked open to find Kushina hovering over my bed, one finger poised to jab me again. Her red hair spilled around her face like a curtain. She wore an amused look, probably from watching me drool into my pillow and finding it hilarious.
"Kushina?" I blinked, trying to get my brain working. "What... how did you get in here?"
"Your window was unlocked," she shrugged. "And before you ask, yes, I knocked first. You didn't answer."
I pushed myself up on my elbows, immediately regretting the sudden movement as my skull throbbed in protest and the empty sake bottles on my nightstand glared at me accusingly.
"What time is it?"
"Almost ten." She straightened up, crossing her arms. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"Forgot what?" I was still trying to piece together why she was in my bedroom at ten in the morning.
Her face scrunched up in that way that meant I was about to get lectured. "Our cooking lesson! You promised you'd teach me how to make that ramen broth, remember?"
Oh. Right. Our weekly cooking lessons had become something I usually pawned off on my shadow clones since actual missions kept dragging me out of the village.
"Right, cooking." I lazily swung my legs out of bed, suddenly very aware that I was wearing nothing but underwear. "Give me five minutes to get dressed."
"Sure." she moved toward the door. "I'll wait in the kitchen."
She paused at the doorway. "And maybe drink some water. You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks."
I heard her laugh as she headed for my kitchen, followed by the distinct sounds of cabinet doors slamming and disappointed sighs. I grabbed clean clothes and started pulling them on, realizing I'd completely forgotten to buy ingredients for today's lesson. She was probably staring at my pathetic collection of condiments right about now.
Four and a half minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling significantly more human. Kushina had made herself at home in my kitchen, which wasn't hard considering it was about the size of a closet. She was perched on one of my two chairs, spinning it back and forth while she poked through the sad contents of my cabinets.
"What do we need?" she asked. "Your pantry's basically empty."
"Don't worry about it. I'll have a clone go shopping." I tossed the empty sake bottles in the trash. "So what are we making?"
"The one and only food masterpiece in the world." She hopped up from the chair, arms spread wide like she was announcing the winner of the Chunin Exams. "Ramen!"
I stared at her. "Ramen? Really?"
"What's wrong with ramen?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"It's not exactly... nutritious. Or healthy. Or anything resembling actual food."
"That's the whole point!" She grinned like she'd just solved world hunger. "You're supposed to teach me how to make it healthy. You know, add vegetables and stuff that would make me healthy."
I considered this. "Mm, I guess we could do a proper ramen. Bone broth, fresh noodles, vegetables. A long-simmered stock would be better, chicken bones for something lighter, maybe pork if we wanted it richer. Carrots, onions, garlic for depth, mushrooms for umami. Leafy greens would balance the heaviness, bok choy or spinach, even some bean sprouts for crunch. A soft-boiled egg, not just for protein but because the yolk thickens the broth. Fresh noodles so it carry the flavor better."
She blinked a few times, as if trying to catch up.
"Um… wow. I was just thinking cabbage or something," she said, half laughing. "But sure, professor, let's do it your way."