Curse These Old Bones - Extra - What if ? N°1

What if Hiruzen had used Edo Tensei to deal with Danzo…more directly ? 

Danzo Shimura strode into Hiruzen Sarutobi’s office like a shadow given form, his cane tapping against the wooden floor with the rhythm of a death knell. The air seemed to chill around him, a heavy silence clinging to the room as though the universe itself held its breath. His single, piercing eye burned with conviction—the unwavering gaze of a man who believed himself to be the spine of a crumbling world.

"The village is a flame, flickering in the wind," Danzo began, his voice cold, measured, almost poetic. "And you, Hiruzen, are too soft to shield it. Compassion will not stop a kunai; mercy will not hold the line. You’ve turned the Academy into a playpen for children. We need warriors. The jinchuriki—your precious Naruto—must be shaped into the weapon this village needs."

Hiruzen looked up from his desk, his face an infuriating mask of calm. His pipe smoldered gently, the smoke curling lazily upward. "Danzo," he said evenly, "we’ve had this conversation many times before. You know my stance."

"And you know mine," Danzo shot back, his voice like steel on stone. "Your sentimentality will be the ruin of us all. Reform the Academy. Harden the children. Let them understand that the Will of Fire is not a cradle but a crucible."

Hiruzen’s silence was maddening, a soft wall against Danzo’s storm. The Hokage’s calm demeanor grated against him, a reminder of the countless times his wisdom had been dismissed, his vision ignored.

Danzo continued, his voice dropping lower, colder. "You think peace is achieved through words and bonds. I’ve seen the truth. Peace is forged in the blood of our enemies. It is bought with sacrifice. You call me ruthless, but I am what this village needs—what you’re too weak to be."

He leaned forward, his presence oppressive. "Mark my words, Hiruzen. When the fires come, it will not be your ideals that save us. It will be the blade I’ve honed in the shadows."

The tension was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words. Until the door creaked open.

Danzo turned sharply, his single eye narrowing. A woman entered, her presence jarringly mundane against the dark gravity of their conversation. She was very small and brisk, her old-fashioned kimono neatly tied and her hair pulled back into a severe bun. She carried a tray of tea and papers, her face set in a stern expression.

Hiruzen smiled. "Ah, Shimura-san. Perfect timing."

Danzo blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing. The woman looked familiar. Too familiar. A name scratched at the edges of his memory, a ghost from a time he had buried long ago.

The woman turned to him, her expression shifting into something fierce and unrelenting. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth a taut line of disappointment. "Danzo," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "What is this I’ve been hearing?"

Danzo froze, his blood running colder than any battlefield had ever made it. "M-Mother?"

"Don’t you ‘Mother’ me, you disgrace of a son!" she snapped, setting the tray down with a force that made the teacups rattle. "Collaborating with Orochimaru? Kidnapping children? And what’s this about you stealing eyes? Eyes, Danzo! Are you some sort of back-alley surgeon now?"

Hiruzen leaned back, clearly savoring every moment. "I told you she’d want a word with you."

Danzo’s hand tightened around his cane, his usual composure cracking like thin ice. "Mother, this is—"

"Silence!" she barked, marching toward him with the energy of a woman fifty years younger — and alive. "You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? Meddling in conspiracies, plotting against the Hokage, turning yourself into some one-eyed creeper skulking around in the shadows. You’re an embarrassment to the Shimura name!"

"Mother, I am—"

"A disappointment! That’s what you are!" She snatched his ear with a speed that no shinobi training could prepare him for. Danzo, the terror of countless missions, yelped like a scolded child. "You were supposed to uphold our family’s honor, not turn into some villain out of a cheap novel!"

"Mother, please," Danzo muttered, his voice uncharacteristically small. His cane clattered to the floor as she dragged him forward.

"And what’s this I hear about your living quarters?" she continued, her grip on his ear unrelenting. "You’re nearly seventy years old, and you can’t even keep your room clean? Papers everywhere, bloodstains on the floor! Have you no shame?"

"Mother, I’m a shinobi—"

"A shinobi? A shinobi? You’re a child! A child playing at being important!" She released his ear only to jab a finger into his chest, forcing him to step back. "And let’s not even get started on your hygiene. Do you even wash your hands before meals? Or is that too much for the great Danzo Shimura? And another thing!" his mother continued, her voice rising. "Who gave you the right to experiment on children? Do you think I raised you to behave like some kind of... of... mad scientist?"

Danzo’s head drooped, his usual air of authority crushed beneath the weight of maternal fury. "I was doing what was necessary for the village," he mumbled.

"What’s necessary for the village is for you to stop acting like a lunatic!" she snapped. "You’re grounded. No more conspiracies. No more secret projects. And you’re going to apologize to every person you’ve wronged, starting with this nice Hokage here!"

And for the first time in years, Danzo Shimura knew fear.