"Danzō is here?"
Ryūsuke Aburame was in the middle of a closed-door clan meeting when the report arrived. The atmosphere in the hall, already tense from the day's events, tightened another notch.
Hidden Mist's public accusations.
The joint pursuit team.
And now Root's master emerging from the shadows.
None of it was coincidence.
Shibi Aburame knelt just outside the chamber, head lowered. "Father. Elder Danzō has arrived at the front hall."
As the clan heir, he had the authority to interrupt—reserved only for matters that could not wait.
A low murmur rippled through the elders.
"This man never comes without intent," one elder said coldly. "Last time he claimed to be recruiting for ANBU. He took Ryōma—and extorted a so-called 'training contribution' on the way out."
Everyone knew what that meant.
Ryōma Aburame had once been a prodigy, personally nurtured by the clan. After entering Root, he had been sealed with the Tongue Curse, subjected to years of conditioning, and cut off from his family entirely. Blood remained—but loyalty no longer did.
"We cannot refuse the meeting," Ryūsuke said at last, voice steady. "Offer tea. I will go shortly."
"Yes, Father."
As Shibi withdrew, the elder beside Ryūsuke spoke quietly. "He's coming for Torune."
Ryūsuke's gaze lingered on the doorway where his son had vanished. "I know."
His jaw tightened.
"I will not give him Torune."
Thirty-five million ryō in cash.
And both Shibi and Torune transferred to Root.
Ryūsuke Aburame felt the world tilt for a heartbeat.
He had expected a bite—never a severing strike.
Money alone would have been painful but bearable. But Shibi was his only son. Torune was the sole child of his deceased younger brother. Together, they represented the Aburame Clan's next two decades.
This was not requisition.
It was mutilation.
"Elder Danzō," Ryūsuke said at last, bowing slightly, posture immaculate, "the Aburame Clan regrets that it cannot comply."
Danzō's single visible eye narrowed. "Are you unwilling to dedicate your clan's strength to Konoha?"
The words were sharp, honed to cut.
Ryūsuke paused, then answered evenly. "The Aburame Clan has always been prepared to sacrifice for Konoha."
Danzō said nothing—only stared.
The silence pressed down like weight.
"Shibi and Torune will serve Konoha as registered ninja," Ryūsuke continued carefully. "When the village calls, they will answer. That is not refusal."
"But Konoha needs them to walk in darkness," Danzō replied flatly.
He had no interest in polite fencing. There were other clans waiting—Nara, Yamanaka, even Hyūga and Uchiha. Money where possible. People where necessary.
And for clans like Aburame?
Both.
"I will petition the Hokage to assign them to ANBU," Ryūsuke said. "That is also service in the shadows."
"Are you accusing Root?" Danzō's voice dropped, carrying the weight of his position. The air seemed to constrict.
Ryūsuke lowered his head slightly. "I would never imply such a thing."
Then, more softly, "It is only that Shibi and Torune are still young. I fear they may not withstand Root's burdens."
A concession. A retreat.
Danzō ignored it.
"Thirty-five million," he repeated. "Not one less."
"And the people must come."
"Seventy million." Ryūsuke met his gaze directly. "But no personnel."
Danzō's cane struck the floor.
"What do you take this for—merchant bargaining?!" he snapped. "This is for Konoha!"
His eye burned with cold fire. "There exists a terrifying enemy capable of manipulating a Mizukage for years. Such hatred can only come from a rogue Uchiha who despises Konoha."
He slammed the table. "Root risks its life gathering intelligence. And you dare delay?"
Then, softly—dangerously—
"The Aburame Clan wouldn't happen to be sheltering such a spy, would it?"
Ryūsuke's breath hitched.
Silence stretched.
At last, he spoke through clenched teeth. "Take Shibi."
His voice trembled once—then steadied. "He is stronger. He can endure Root better."
He would sacrifice his own son before surrendering his brother's child.
"I want both."
Danzō's answer was immediate. Absolute.
No bargaining. No mercy.
"Then let the Hokage decide," Ryūsuke said, face flushing. "Root is subordinate to ANBU. There is no rule compelling clans to provide personnel."
"If you insist," he continued, voice iron-hard, "I request a jōnin assembly—and a written order from Hokage-sama, issued publicly."
Danzō's chakra flared, killing intent rolling outward.
"You threaten me?"
"You left me no choice," Ryūsuke replied without retreat.
He knew the cost. Offending the upper echelons could destroy his future. But some lines could not be crossed.
Danzō stared at him—then laughed coldly.
From his sleeve, he produced a stack of transfer orders.
Each bore the Hokage's seal.
Each carried Hiruzen Sarutobi's chakra-infused signature.
Ryūsuke's face drained of color as Danzō calmly dipped his brush.
The soft scrape of bristles against paper sounded deafening.
Torune Aburame.
Each stroke felt like a blade.
Ryūsuke's kikaichū surged instinctively—but Danzō stepped back half a pace, prepared.
"Have him ready tonight," Danzō said, leaving the document behind. "Don't do anything foolish, Clan Head."
The insects halted at the edge of the paper.
Only when Danzō was gone did Ryūsuke's knees threaten to give.
With the Hokage's written order, resistance became treason.
He stared at the ink—felt the deliberate chakra imprint pulsing faintly within it.
That was a martyr's child.
His brother had died saving him, entrusting Torune into his care with his last breath.
And now—
The table shattered beneath Ryūsuke's palm. Splinters tore his skin; blood ran freely.
His insects erupted, buzzing filling the room like a scream.
Through bloodshot eyes, he looked toward Hokage Rock.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi," he whispered, voice breaking into hatred, "if I do not avenge this… I swear I am not human."
With every clan Danzō passed through, Root swelled.
And behind it, something far more dangerous took shape—
The accumulated hatred of Konoha's great families.
It lingered over the village like a gathering storm, dark and patient, waiting.
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