In the dimly lit Hokage's office, the atmosphere was tense, a silence hanging thick in the air. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat behind his desk, the light from the window casting long shadows across the room. Across from him stood Danzo Shimura, a man notorious for his ruthless pragmatism and cold, calculating nature. His single visible eye glared at Hiruzen, frustration barely concealed.
"You're making a mistake, Hiruzen," Danzo spat, his voice low but edged with anger. "That boy is a liability. His bloodline ability makes him dangerous, unpredictable. You can't afford to protect him like this."
Hiruzen sighed, leaning back in his chair, maintaining a calm composure despite Danzo's accusations. He had anticipated this confrontation the moment Chihara had come under his watchful eye. Danzo had been fixated on the boy for some time, eager to bring him under his strict control, to mold him into one of his emotionless weapons. But Hiruzen wouldn't allow that.
"Chihara is no more dangerous than any other shinobi with potential," Hiruzen replied, his tone measured. "He's young, yes. He's still learning to control his abilities, but that doesn't mean we should strip him of his humanity and turn him into one of your pawns, Danzo."
Danzo's face twitched with irritation. "Humanity? That's a luxury we can't afford in times like these. You're blind, Hiruzen. That boy's power could destroy this village if left unchecked. He's too emotional, too unstable. The Ketsuryūgan isn't something to be coddled—it's a weapon, and weapons need to be controlled."
Hiruzen's eyes hardened at that. "And you think Root would provide him with the control he needs? You would turn him into nothing more than a tool, stripping him of everything that makes him who he is. I've allowed you to continue leading Root in secret, Danzo. But I won't allow you to take Chihara."
Danzo's fist clenched at his side, the anger simmering beneath his cool facade. "Your sentimental approach will be the village's downfall, Hiruzen. Root exists to do what's necessary—what you refuse to do. That boy needs discipline, not your protection. He's dangerous, and you know it."
Hiruzen stood from his chair, his gaze sharp as it bore into Danzo. "Chihara will remain under my protection. He is not a danger to this village, but he will be if you attempt to take him."
Before Danzo could reply, there was a knock on the door. Both men turned toward the sound, the tension between them still palpable.
"Enter," Hiruzen called, his voice regaining its calm authority.
The door creaked open, and Chihara stepped inside, his expression composed but alert. He glanced between Hiruzen and Danzo, sensing the tension in the room but saying nothing.
Danzo's gaze lingered on Chihara, cold and scrutinizing. Hiruzen, however, offered a small nod of acknowledgement.
"That will be all, Danzo," Hiruzen said firmly, signaling the end of their conversation.
Danzo narrowed his eye but said nothing more. With a sharp turn, he strode toward the door, his cloak trailing behind him.
After Danzo left the Hokage turned to face Chihara, the warmth returning to his expression, though a trace of the earlier tension still lingered in his eyes.
"Chihara," Hiruzen began, his tone grave but calm, "I have a mission for you, though this isn't a typical reconnaissance or covert operation that you would normally be doing." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Team 7 has requested backup. What was supposed to be a C-rank mission has escalated into an A-rank mission."
Chihara straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of Team 7. He knew of them—a squad of Genin led by the famous Kakashi Hatake. Sasuke Uchiha was among them, a familiar name, and someone Chihara had sparred with frequently over the past couple of years.
"What's the situation?" Chihara asked, his voice steady.
Hiruzen sighed, leaning back in his chair. "The mission was to protect a bridge builder, Tazuna, in the Land of Waves. However, it seems they've encountered an unforeseen enemy. The rogue ninja Zabuza Momochi, a previous member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, has become involved. Team 7 is capable, but even Kakashi sees the need for additional support in this scenario."
Chihara's eyes narrowed. Zabuza Momochi was a name that carried weight. The man was a master of silent killing techniques and a formidable opponent, even for a Jonin like Kakashi.
"Team 7 needs support, especially since Kakashi was injured during their last confrontation," Hiruzen continued. "They requested backup, and I believe your skills will be invaluable to them."
"Understood," Chihara said quietly, his eyes locking onto Hiruzen's.
Hiruzen nodded approvingly. "You'll work openly alongside them as a support, though your true ANBU affiliation will remain confidential."
Chihara blinked once, surprised. "I'll work alongside them directly?"
"Yes," Hiruzen confirmed. "Kakashi is aware so you will be recognized."
There was a weight in the Hokage's words that Chihara didn't miss. This mission wasn't just about support; it was a test of his growth and ability to work with others. It was different from the stealth operations he had been preparing for.
Hiruzen reaches for a scroll on his desk, then hands it to Chihara, "Burn it after you've read it, now head to the Land of Waves immediately," Hiruzen instructed, his tone sharpening.
Without another word, Chihara bowed respectfully then disappeared.
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I dashed between the trees, the cool air whipping against my face as I sped through the dense forest. The rhythm of my movements was automatic, my feet barely touching the branches as I propelled myself forward.
Eventually, the air grew cooler, the scent of saltwater mingling with the dense forest. The Land of Waves was close. Through the gaps in the trees, I could make out the faint shimmer of water, and then the bridge came into view—long, expansive, and unfinished. That's where Team 7 would be.
The water rippled beneath my feet as I sprinted across the surface, barely disturbing the calm. The vastness of the sea surrounding the Land of Waves was eerie in its stillness, but I didn't have time to think about that. My eyes were focused ahead, on the bridge.
As I approached, the air thickened with the unmistakable tension of a battle. I could hear the clash of steel, the crackle of chakra, and the faint sound of pained grunts. My heartbeat quickened, but my mind stayed focused.
I leapt onto the bridge, landing silently as the chaotic scene unfolded in front of me. Kakashi Hatake was locked in fierce combat with Zabuza Momochi, their battle was intense, but my gaze was drawn to something more immediate. Further down the bridge, a dome of mirrors encased two familiar figures.
Naruto was collapsed on the ground, senbon needles sticking out of him, his face pale and his breaths shallow. Sasuke stood in front of him, battered and injured, his body trembling as he tried to fight off an opponent hidden within the mirrors. His eyes, burning with desperation, were locked on the shifting reflections of the enemy. Senbon after senbon flew at him, but Sasuke gritted his teeth and continued to protect Naruto, determined not to fall.
Kakashi could handle Zabuza for now. But Sasuke and Naruto were on the verge of collapse.
I didn't waste any more time. With a burst of speed, I flickered forward, heading straight for the dome of mirrors. The moment my feet hit the ground near the edge of the ice structure, I reached out with my left hand holding a kunai and stabbed it into my palm, drawing blood. The Ketsuryūgan flared to life, and with a surge of will, I unleashed my blood.
Dark red chains erupted from my hand, writhing and crackling with energy. I directed them at the ice mirrors surrounding Sasuke and Naruto. With a powerful thrust, the blood chains slammed into the mirrors, smashing through them with a resounding crack. Shards of ice exploded outward, and the mirrors began to shatter one by one, each blow more destructive than the last.
The blood chains recoiled back toward me, slithering through the air as the last of the mirrors shattered into fragments. The masked shinobi, momentarily stunned by the sudden attack, stood exposed.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, my gaze locking onto the masked figure. Sasuke staggered back, his breath labored as he glanced between me and our enemy.
They moved fast—faster than most—but I didn't flinch. Instead of dodging, I let their senbon pierce my flesh, the thin needles embedding themselves in my arms and chest. Blood welled up, running down my skin in streams. But I didn't falter; I welcomed it.
The masked shinobi attacks again, aiming for a swift kill. I let him land his strikes—deliberate cuts that slice into me—but every hit draws more blood, more power. The crimson liquid begins to twist around me, responding to my will. The blood chains thicken, hardening into weapons, snapping through the air in response to each attack.
I flick my wrist, and the blood lashes out, faster than before. One chain misses, but another grazes their shoulder, cutting deep enough to draw blood. The sight of it fuels me. I can feel the grin twisting my lips.
He strikes again, this time sinking a blade deeper into my side. I let it happen. Blood pours out, coating the bridge beneath my feet, but I'm not concerned. My blood swirls upward, forming into more chains, wrapping around me like armor. With each injury, I'm growing stronger, faster. The chains snap toward him again, forcing him back.
There's no need for words. I don't want to waste time on them. Every movement I make is precise, deliberate. I flick my fingers again, sending the blood tendrils lashing out like whips. he tries to block with his ice, but it doesn't matter. The blood cuts through, relentless.
He try's to reform the mirrors, but I crush them before they can fully solidify. There's no retreat for him. I press forward, allowing him to come closer, only to retaliate with more blood, more chains. My injuries aren't hindrances; they're fuel.
I flicker forward, faster than he expects, making my and his blood wrap around his body. The blood chains tighten around him, binding him in place.
I stand over him, my face calm, my gaze cold. The blood pulls tight around his limbs, leaving no room for escape.
He struggles briefly, but it's clear. I've won.