The Uchiha Clan district sat in the most remote corner of Konoha, a place deliberately distanced from the village's vibrant center, bordering the gloomy, high-walled perimeter near the Konoha Military Police Headquarters and the village prison. It was a geographic and psychological monument to their isolation.
Shen Mo was in no hurry. The transaction was assured, and the customer was already feverish with anticipation. As he walked beside the trembling, yet determined, Sasuke, the merchant calmly considered the boy's future purchase strategy.
What kind of jar to recommend for Sasuke?
Sasuke, the archetypal 'pay-to-win' customer driven by pure emotion, needed a low-effort, high-impact solution that would justify his spending immediately and encourage further, more reckless investment. He needed a powerful concept rather than a slow, arduous training regime.
The most potent items—those that altered fate or granted inherent power—were extremely rare. Shen Mo would need to guide Sasuke toward Tier Two and Tier Three jars quickly, as the Tier One items would only offer incremental gains that would soon bore the boy's inflamed ambition. The immediate need was not for a final weapon, but for a psychological win.
At that very moment, across the village, the air in the Hokage's office was thick and cold, despite the lateness of the hour. Danzo Shimura stood rigidly outside the door, his form a silent monolith wrapped in white bandages. He had been waiting several tense minutes, gathering his considerable political will, even as he waited for the final, coherent report from his failed Root operation.
A ninja, Ippei, staggered into the hallway, breathless and visibly shaking.
"Ippei," Danzo addressed the man, the sound barely a whisper—a name spoken by the dead.
Ippei flinched as if struck by a poisoned scorpion. He dropped instantly to his knees, head bowed, his training shattered by the night's trauma.
"Danzo-sama, the report—"
Squeak.
The door to the office swung open, revealing Sarutobi Hiruzen. The Third Hokage stood by the wide window, his back to the room, cloaked in his ceremonial robes. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the air.
"Come in," the voice was old, but possessed a hard, unrelenting edge.
Danzo entered the room without a word, his expression unreadable, while Ippei's face turned an ashen grey. Ippei was nominally an Anbu, serving the Hokage, but his true allegiance lay with his creator, Danzo, the founder of the disbanded Root.
"Hiruzen," Danzo began, attempting to sound casual, "why the urgent summons at this hour? Surely this is not a matter of village importance."
Sarutobi Hiruzen turned slowly, extinguishing the cigarette in his hand. His eyes, usually softened by age, were now sharpened like katana blades, pinning Danzo and the terrified Ippei in place.
"Danzo, you will address me as Hokage-sama," Hiruzen commanded, his voice devoid of warmth. "And tell me, why did you countermand my orders to Ippei? Why did you instruct him to 'test' the visitor and, if he proved weak, bring him directly to you?"
Ippei's body began to twitch violently. He knew he was the sacrificial pawn in a high-stakes political game. The Hokage's original order was to invite the merchant. But in deploying Ippei, a known former Root operative, Hiruzen had intentionally left a loose thread—a tacit invitation for Danzo to intervene and conduct a shadow investigation. Now that the intervention had failed catastrophically, the responsibility was being dumped squarely onto the instigator.
Danzo allowed a fleeting sneer to touch his lip, instantly covered. "Let us dispense with the formalities, Hiruzen. By sending Ippei, were you not tacitly agreeing to, perhaps even expecting, me to order such a test? You wanted my hand to be the one that got burned."
"It happened," Hiruzen stated, cutting off the political sparring. He sighed, taking another long drag from a new pipe. The smoke provided a momentary shield for his raw expression. "Ippei, you were there. You must understand the nature of that businessman's power better than anyone."
Ippei instantly dropped back to his knees, knocking his head on the floor in a desperate, frantic bow.
"Y-yes, Hokage-sama! Forgive your subordinate, but... it was beyond comprehension!" Ippei stammered, his body shuddering with remembered horror. "It was not human. Even twelve years ago, when I faced the Nine-Tailed Fox in its full rage, the terror did not reach this depth! He did nothing, Hokage-sama. He merely stood, and your subordinate's consciousness... vanished. My mind was utterly blank."
Ippei struggled, desperately trying to articulate a fear that was pre-verbal, primal, and absolute. "There was no Genjutsu. No pain. Only an awareness that the being before us was an Apex Predator, and we were less than dust. We lost all desire to resist, all hope of resistance."
Danzo's single exposed eye narrowed, scanning Ippei's lack of physical injury. Illusion? Or a powerful Sharingan technique?
"Unless my advanced age has finally rendered me useless," Hiruzen interrupted, his voice low and heavy, "you may look there, Danzo."
He gestured to the corner of his desk. The exploded crystal ball lay in pieces, gleaming ominously.
"That... was the physical manifestation of a pure aura of power. The oppressive presence of a higher life form. The First Hokage possessed a similar aura, but this man's... this man's was far greater. It was like standing before the very concept of unmaking."
Danzo's internal fury flared. Hiruzen was afraid. This was the first time Danzo had seen such profound, paralyzing terror in his rival's eyes. Hiruzen is old, weak, and governed by fear. Konoha cannot be led by a man who fears a single, masked merchant!
"If you are concerned about such matters, Hiruzen, you should relinquish them to me," Danzo said, his voice deceptively soft, carrying the immense arrogance of his self-proclaimed superiority. What you cannot do, I can. What you fear, I will conquer.
Since the Uchiha Massacre, where Danzo's true position as "Vice Hokage" was stripped and Root was officially disbanded, his conflict and bitter resentment towards Hiruzen had metastasized. His desire to usurp the title and prove his strength was now a fever pitch.
"No," Sarutobi Hiruzen shook his head slowly, refusing the bait. He looked directly at Danzo, his gaze cutting through the pretenses. "I hope you will take full responsibility for tonight's confrontation."
Danzo froze. The carefully cultivated composure was nearly shattered. Blame? You summon me here to assign me the failure!
"This merchant is far more mysterious than I ever anticipated. Until we acquire more intelligence, Konoha must not engage him again," Hiruzen continued, ignoring Danzo's silent, escalating rage. "And most importantly, Tsunade is home."
The final clause was the true weight of the sentence. Tsunade's return was the political game-changer. Hiruzen was determined to secure her position as the Fifth Hokage. Her character, prestige, and power were incontestable. His initial fear that she might be easily deceived had been overshadowed by the merchant's power, and now he had to contain the political fallout.
The purpose of summoning Danzo tonight was threefold: to deliver the warning to stand down, to obtain an explanation for the chaotic skirmish, and to provide a necessary, high-level scapegoat to prevent the incident from escalating prematurely. Danzo was the sacrificial lamb needed to ensure the merchant saw Konoha's apology without the Hokage having to bow publicly.
Danzo held Sarutobi's gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching tautly between the two lifelong rivals. Finally, he broke contact, his eye flashing with suppressed fury.
"I am no longer even the Hokage's advisor, Hiruzen. What, precisely, can I do now?" Danzo muttered, turning toward the door. His back was rigid, cloaked in an air of defeated solitude as he walked out, leaving Ippei trembling on the floor.
Hiruzen watched his old friend's retreating figure with a weary melancholy. He had done what was necessary for the village.
But what Hiruzen failed to perceive was the malignant shift in Danzo's resolve. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the facade of weariness vanished, replaced by a dark, incandescent rage.
Fear! Danzo seethed, his hand gripping the white bandage over his arm. When did Konoha reach the point where the Hokage must be governed by fear? He fears him, but I do not!
A far more ruthless and terrifying plan began to coalesce in his mind, drawing from the most dangerous assets he still secretly commanded. If Sarutobi Hiruzen believed Konoha should not clash with this "businessman," then perhaps a third party could be introduced—a third party that would gladly trade power for resources and chaos.
Uchiha Itachi.
The name whispered through the shadows of Danzo's mind. Would the criminal organization Akatsuki be interested in a mysterious merchant who wields power capable of terrifying a Kage? Let others gauge his true strength. Let them pay the price.