Hyūga Grand Elder's room felt like breathing syrup, thick, cloying, and everyone in it was two seconds from choking.
Normally these old farts wouldn't be shaking in their sandals over Danzō Shimura, but today? Today they handed the old war hawk the mother of all blackmail bombs on a silver platter.
Everybody froze harder than a genin caught with porn. Nobody even breathed funny. One wrong twitch and the "Dark of the Shinobi World" might decide the whole room needed to disappear.
Hizashi (the only branch-house guy in here) was sweating bullets. His brain was screaming "just faint, bro, fake a stroke, anything," but one look at the main-branch elders' faces and he swallowed that fantasy real quick.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
That cane hitting stone was a goddamn metronome counting down to hell. Every strike made teeth chatter.
Danzō's rep in Konoha is nightmare fuel. Most shinobi would rather spit in the Third Hokage's face than look at Danzō funny. Dude holds grudges like trophies and buries bodies like it's casual Friday. Only two people have ever roasted him to his face and lived: Hiruzen… and that psycho Uchiha kid, Makoto.
The elders traded glances fast as lightning. Same word flashing in every pale Byakugan:
DEFLECT.
Not move the body (touching it now would be suicide), but intercept Danzō outside, drag him somewhere else, buy time.
They'd barely shifted toward the door when—
Sniff sniff.
Far end of the hall, Danzō's nose twitched like a bloodhound that just hit jackpot. That single eye lit up under the bandages.
Every Root ninja with him sniffed too, heads snapping toward the blood stink like hawks spotting a rabbit.
Danzō tapped his cane twice. Thonk thonk.
Two Root vanished in blurs so fast the wind flipped dead leaves off the porch.
The elders' fingers had just brushed the doorframe when—
BAM!
Door exploded inward. Splinters shot like senbon, one chunk grazing Hiashi's cheek and burying itself in the wall.
Air went arctic. You could hear a needle drop and it'd sound like a gunshot.
Danzō strode in, black robe sweeping dust, cane tapping like a death knell. Blood smell hit everyone like a brick.
His one eye locked on the grass-mat lump in the corner hiding the Cloud head's corpse. Pupil shrank to a pinprick.
Even Danzō, who'd kidnap diplomats for breakfast, got a tiny "oh shit" flicker in his chest.
The Hyūga didn't just kidnap the guy—they straight-up murdered him?
Ballsy. Too ballsy. Konoha wasn't allowed to have anyone ballsier than Danzō Shimura.
But the shock lasted half a second before it melted into a greedy little smirk.
Perfect. Now he had the excuse to break the Hyūga over his knee and finally pry some Byakugan out of their skulls for Root's "research."
War with Cloud? Please. He'd been itching for round four. That peace treaty wasn't worth the paper it was written on.
"Hmph."
Root hands hit sword hilts. Killing intent flooded the room so thick you could chew it. Frost crawled up everyone's spine.
Hiashi swallowed blood (bit his own cheek without noticing). The Second Elder went ghost-white. Grand Elder opened his mouth—
Danzō's glare stapled his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"Hyūga clan. You've got some fucking nerve."
Cane slammed the floor so hard the wood groaned.
"Right when we're about to sign a peace treaty, you murder Cloud's head diplomat? Trying to drag Konoha back into war because the last one didn't kill enough of us? You want the village burned to the ground?"
Ever since Makoto roasted him on Hokage Rock six months ago, Danzō had been practicing big, dramatic, guilt-trip speeches in the mirror. Dude was spitting bars now—every word a red-hot knife straight into Hyūga pride.
Grand Elder tried to protest—
"I don't want excuses. I trust my eyes."
Cane ground against the floor like he was crushing their dignity under it.
"Talk. How are you fixing this?"
If Hiruzen were here, he'd negotiate. Danzō? Danzō saw a piñata full of eyes and a stick in his hand.
He didn't care who actually killed the guy. Hyūga were here, body was here, perfect scapegoat. Unless the Uchiha strolled in confessing, this pot was getting glued to Hyūga heads permanently.
Hiashi's fists bled where nails dug in. The elders looked like they'd aged ten years in ten seconds.
Danzō's eye swept the room, landed on the Grand Elder (still red-faced, trying to argue).
Root stepped forward.
"You got something to say, old man? Take him downstairs. Help him remember."
The word "remember" came out dripping venom.
Cold hands clamped the Grand Elder's arms.
He jolted like he'd been tased. "Unhand me! I'm the Grand Elder of the Hyūga main house!"
Root didn't even blink. Outside the clan compound his title was worth less than toilet paper. These were the same psychos who'd plot to assassinate a Hokage and actually try it.
Dragging one pampered elder to the basement? Tuesday.
Hiashi, Hizashi, and the rest watched their clan's dignity get literally dragged across the floor while the old man screamed.
"You honorless bastards! Bullying an old man—!"
Voice faded down the hall, mixed with thuds and grunts. Sparrows exploded off the roof in panic.
Then the sounds changed.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Fast, rhythmic, like someone playing drums on meat.
Screams started—sharp, then wet, then desperate.
At first he still swore he was framed, that he never left his room, that the body just appeared.
Root didn't ask questions. No genjutsu, no drugs. Just the Great Memory Restoration Technique (Konoha's politest name for "we beat the shit out of you till you remember what we want").
For a frontline shinobi? Child's play.
For a spoiled elder who hadn't thrown a punch since the Second War? Pure hell.
Ten minutes in, the screams cracked.
Twenty minutes, he started "confessing"—weaving a whole murder story so detailed it could've fooled a lie detector. By the end even he half-believed it.
Root kept swinging.
Eventually the screams turned to sobs, then to something that didn't sound human. Old man lost bowel control—multiple times. Tears, snot, piss, the works. Hair looked like he'd stuck his finger in a socket.
Finally he broke completely.
"I'll confess! Everything! Every bad thing in Konoha the past twenty years—MY FAULT!"
Still fists.
Then, in a ragged, dying screech:
"THE NINE-TAILS ATTACK! THAT WAS ME TOO! I DID THE NINE-TAILS!"