Chapter 68 — "Damn It, Minato! You Incompetent Fool! I Must Return!"
Let's roll the clock back one month—
back to when Uchiha Yujiro lopped off old man Hanzō's head and kicked it around like a soccer ball before taking over Amegakure.
At that time, Konoha's political situation was already a ticking bomb.
No solid proof existed, but the veterans of the Third Hokage's era—
those old foxes—had noses sharper than ninja hounds.
They could feel when something was off, when someone was watching.
And so, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, started doing what he did best—
running interference between factions like a professional fence-sitter.
On one hand, he told Minato with a strained smile:
"Minato, Minato… I know you don't get along with Danzo.
But no matter what, he's still one of Konoha's elders.
As long as he doesn't cross the line, just—try to give him a little face, hmm?"
Then, turning right around, he went to Danzo and said with the same rehearsed tone:
"Danzo, I know you think Minato's too young.
But like it or not, he is the Hokage now.
You have to show some respect for the office, don't you?"
For a brief moment, thanks to the old man's diplomatic grease,
relations between the Hokage's office and Root seemed to cool down.
But in truth, that peace was nothing more than the calm before the storm.
Minato was waiting for Yujiro's signal—
and at the same time, secretly having Kakashi and others gather evidence of Danzo's crimes.
Danzo, of course, wasn't about to just sit quietly and wait for judgment.
He was doing the same thing—trying to dig up dirt on Minato,
looking for an excuse to overthrow him in a bloody "Spring of Konoha" military coup.
The problem?
That was easier said than done.
Compared to Danzo, even someone like Uchiha Yujiro looked like a pure, innocent schoolboy.
The old snake had been playing politics since before most of Konoha's jonin were even born.
But his coup progress bar barely moved.
Why?
Because not a single sane person wanted to join him.
Not the major clans.
Not the jonin.
Not even the civilian shinobi or the ANBU elites.
Hell, even the two elderly advisors—Homura and Koharu—refused to take part.
Danzo could only sigh to himself:
"If Orochimaru were still around, I could've at least discussed strategy with him…"
He had no idea that Orochimaru had already been poached by Yujiro.
Like some tragic cuckold from an adult novel,
Danzo was still living in denial—
fondly imagining a partnership that was already long gone.
Then came the night when everything would change.
That night, as rain lashed the rooftops,
Uchiha Yujiro stretched and muttered lazily to himself:
"It's getting chilly… how come no one's brought me a coat yet?"
And right at that moment, far away in Konoha,
Minato received Yujiro's coded message.
He didn't really get the "fish" reference,
but the moment he saw it, relief flooded his face.
His expression hardened into one of righteous determination.
"Mobilize Unit Ikko-su!"
Yes—"Unit Ikko-su" was one of Yujiro's naming masterpieces.
His sense of humor in these things was, frankly, diabolical.
In fact, Yujiro had drafted several equally ominous names for Konoha's elite units:
Geheime Staatspolizei (Internal Security)
Cheka (External Operations)
Tonton Macoute (Civil Suppression Force)
Each one assigned to a different mission type.
And names weren't enough—he also insisted on a uniform redesign.
"Names and outfits are part of combat effectiveness," he'd declared once.
He envisioned ANBU dressed in black leather coats,
eagle insignias on their chests, and Lugers holstered at their hips.
Say what you will—it had style.
Way better than those ridiculous ANBU masks,
gray harnesses, and the standard Konoha flak vests that made everyone look like turtles.
Minato, bless him, didn't care about such details.
After all, the funding came from "Ryūchi Cave Male Enhancement Products Co."
and all uniforms were produced by Uchiha Textiles & Co.
But that was all future planning.
For now, while Yujiro was off in the Land of Rain cosplaying as General MacArthur,
Konoha's forces remained unchanged—
and in this coming operation, style didn't matter.
"Signal received. Move out!"
A single flare shot through the clouds.
And just like that—
a thousand elite shinobi surged into motion.
Minato's loyal strike teams launched simultaneous assaults
on every one of Danzo's secret laboratories.
The attack had begun.
These secret laboratories—once Orochimaru's twisted playground—
had been under the strict control of Root ever since his defection.
And, just as Uchiha Yujiro had predicted,
old man Danzo had no intention of abandoning his forbidden experiments.
In fact, as tensions with Minato worsened by the day,
the old vulture had only grown more desperate—
more insane.
He was calling Orochimaru eight hundred times a day,
begging him to return.
"Hurry back! Help me finish the Wood Release research!"
"The Sharingan experiments—Orochimaru! We were so close!"
"Power! I need more power!"
Of course, all those messages went straight to Orochimaru's blocked list.
"Please," Orochimaru had once sneered.
"After all the trouble I went through escaping, you think I'm stupid enough to go back?
Rest easy, my old friend. I'll never think of you again—not even on holidays."
Danzo, meanwhile, was starting to feel the cold chill of paranoia creeping up his spine.
No reply. Not one word. Not a whisper from his former partner in crime.
Something was wrong.
He slammed his fist on his desk, muttering through gritted teeth:
"Minato… that brat… does he really intend to go to war with me?!"
The thought of facing that blinding flash of the Flying Thunder God
sent a jolt of fear down his neck.
Right then, thunder rolled outside—
a heavy, distant boom.
Danzo glanced toward the window.
"Rain? At a time like this?"
When he turned back around, there was suddenly a figure standing by his bedside.
Danzo's instincts flared. His hand darted toward his kunai—
until the stranger pulled back his hood.
A wrinkled, weary face appeared—one he knew too well.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Danzo exhaled sharply in relief—
only to instantly replace it with a scowl colder than steel.
"Why are you here, Hiruzen? Come to arrest me?"
The Third Hokage ignored the jab.
He hesitated, his eyes full of complicated emotions,
then finally spoke in a low voice:
"Danzo. Stop this. Please.
The ANBU—no, the Cheka—they've surrounded the compound."
Danzo blinked.
"The… Cheka?"
Then, eyes widening:
"Hiruzen?!"
Hiruzen sighed.
"If you can't fight them off, just… leave the village for a while.
Lay low. When things calm down, I'll find a way to—"
Danzo burst out laughing.
A dry, sharp, mocking laugh that filled the room with venom.
"Hiruzen… you've really lost it, haven't you?"
He straightened, his voice dripping with scorn.
"Me, hide from him?"
That one sentence made Hiruzen's temper snap.
"Danzo, do you even understand what you've done?!"
But before he could finish, Danzo raised his hand sharply.
"Shh."
Both old men froze.
In the next instant, muffled shouts echoed through the halls—
angry, righteous, furious voices rising from all sides.
"Don't let that bastard Shimura Danzo escape!"
"You used your own comrades as experiment material! You deserve to die a thousand deaths!"
"And you desecrated the First Hokage's remains—UNFORGIVABLE!"
Hiruzen's eyes widened in horror.
"Danzo… what did they mean by that?!
You did what to the First's body?!
You experimented on your own people?!"
He reached out to grab Danzo—
and grasped nothing but empty air.
Because the man before him was nothing more than a Shadow Clone.
For a brief, absurd moment, Hiruzen almost laughed.
Then rage swallowed him whole.
"SHIMURA DANZO!!!"
And thus it was recorded—
Year 50 of the Hidden Leaf, late autumn.
Shimura Danzo—
Elder of the Village, Commander of the ANBU,
Founder of Root, Master of Espionage, and the so-called "Darkness of the Shinobi"—
defected from Konoha.