(Akio Pov)
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As I trudged home from a grueling day at work, my exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders. With practiced precision, I had extracted every ounce of information from the prisoners, pushing them to their limits until they divulged their secrets. It was a routine I had grown accustomed to, where I need hearing aids at any moment.
Just as I settled into the comfort of my own space, there came a sharp rap at the door, the distinct knock of an Anbu operative from the black ops division. His presence was unmistakable, marked by the sleek uniform that made them so recognisable in public.
Anticipating another assignment to interrogate a shinobi from Iwa, Ame, Suna, Kusa, or any other village, I braced myself for the inevitable. It was a tiresome task, one that often left my ears ringing from the barrage of information, screams and pleads. Yet, the compensation was fair, and it lacked risk associating with other division and subdivision.
"Danzo-Sama is calling you," the Anbu said before swiftly leaving, his voice carrying a tone of urgency that hinted at the importance of the summons.
'I guess the black pot king would make his debut,' I sighed. With resignation, I dressed in casual clothes, opting for a simple grey shirt and pants that offered little in the way of ostentation. With a final adjustment to my attire, I left through the door, blending into the bustling streets like any ordinary person would.
Though the crowded streets drained my soul, I had no choice but to navigate through them. Unlike those from the Black Ops division who possessed the liberty to effortlessly traverse rooftops, I wasn't so fortunate; instead, I had to contend with the throngs of people and the cacophony of noise that filled the bustling thoroughfares.
But hey, at least my life expectancy is likely to be thrice as long as theirs, although lately, I'm no longer certain about that…
Anyway, it didn't take long to notice the tense faces among the crowd, which was understandable given that the Second Shinobi World War was ongoing. The palpable anxiety hung in the air like a heavy fog, casting a shadow over the bustling streets as civilians and shinobi alike grappled with the uncertainty and fear that accompanied wartime.
And it had nothing to do with me.
Exiting the compound, it took me another solid thirty minutes to reach his residence, navigating through the labyrinthine streets of the village. I understand why ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu were illegal to use in the village; the secrecy and safety of its inhabitants were paramount. But damn, it takes so much time to get here, and it would have been tripled if I were a civilian, reliant solely on foot travel.
'They should invest in public transport!' I couldn't help but think as I maneuvered through the crowded pathways, dodging merchants and villagers alike. Whoever is still stupid enough to call Konoha a village must not have seen a small city, which was far smaller than this 'village.' The bustling activity and sheer size of the place belied its humble designation.
I thought of asking my uncle to suggest this change before I reached the door. Perhaps he could use his influence to advocate for better transportation infrastructure within the village.
Knocking on the door, I waited patiently, the anticipation building with each passing second. *Creak.* The door opened slowly, revealing an Anbu guard who regarded me with an intensity that bordered on intimidating. We locked eyes for a moment, engaged in an unspoken standoff, before he finally gestured for me to follow him upstairs, wordlessly indicating that my audience with Danzo-Sama awaited.
My eyes twitched slightly when I noticed the opulent marble floors and grand staircase, but I continued on my way, steadfast in the knowledge that taxpayer money allocation had nothing to do with me.
As I descended the stairs, a subtle awareness brushed against my senses, indicating the presence of 59 Anbu operatives within the mansion, though only a handful were not concealed in plain sight.
'Either Sandaime-sama is worried about him or they're all loyalists of the darkness of shinobi,' I mused silently, pondering the implications of the heavily guarded surroundings before reaching the second floor.
Two Anbu suddenly materialized before me, their masked faces inscrutable as they scanned me and posed a few questions before melting back into the shadows.
It was understandable, their need to confirm my identity, a testament to Danzo's meticulous nature and his insistence on ensuring that nothing was left to chance, especially after the recent miscalculation he had made a month ago.
As I approached the door, it swung open, revealing another Anbu stationed within.
And there in the middle of the room, sat the enigmatic former Anbu Commander, Shimura Danzo, his piercing gaze fixed upon the file spread out before him on the table.
With a bandage covering his right eye, presumably he inserted another Sharingan, and another wrapped around his right arm, which appeared completely crippled, his aura was understandably darker than usual.
"Sit down, Akio," he whispered, his voice carrying a weight of authority as he led me to the chair opposite him, his posture betraying the pain he must have been enduring.
It didn't take long to glance at the file spread out before me, and I could only sigh, the weight of the information sinking in.
'So the Senju extermination is going to commence,' I deduced, my breath slightly heavy with resignation as I noted the expenses outlined in the document, particularly those related to upgrading laboratory equipment for gene infusion and integration. The implications were clear as day.
Since the Senju clan presence was not mentioned at all in Naruto's timeline, it didn't take long to draw that conclusion, highlighting the gravity of the situation unfolding before me.
In his presence, an aura of intimidation loomed, cementing his status as the unwavering leader, commanding respect and obedience from all. Except for me, that is.
As he posed the question about the project, his demeanor left no room for dissent. "What is your opinion about this project?" he inquired, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
Without hesitation, I spoke my mind, holding nothing back. "Wasteful and unreliable," I replied bluntly.
I elaborated further, critiquing the technology's novelty and high cost, as well as its dependence on a substantial number of subjects without attracting public backlash.
"Investing in this venture risks overextending the resources without guaranteeing success, let alone producing results that are adequate in your standard" I continued, highlighting the precariousness of the endeavor. "Moreover, the constant threat to it's safety would be unmanageable if our enemies catch wind of its existence, even if it's is hardly a worthy copy of Shodai-sama."
"Indeed, the prospect of exploiting the war as a means to achieve Ojiee-Sama's objectives may initially seem plausible. However, when compare with other alternatives which I believe would give better and reliable result such as the harvesting of Mangekyo Sharingans or Byakugan, the abduction and indoctrination of children endowed with Kekkei Genkai, or even the extraction of spermatozoa from men possessing Kekkei Genkai, followed by insemination into willing female shinobi to produce offspring with a chance of inheriting fraternal abilities, this particular project isn't enticing my eyes."
As I reached for the cup of Anbu-poured tea, I braced myself for its bitter taste. Suppressing a grimace, I forced myself to swallow the kuding tea in one gulp, silently protesting its unpleasantness.