Ninja World.
Land of Fire.
Konohagakure.
The second morning had arrived.
Sunlight poured gently across the ruins of the central square, once prepared for celebration, now only a grave reminder of chaos.
The warmth of the sun could not thaw the coldness in the hearts of the villagers.
It was a new day...
The sun always rose.
And the world moved on, indifferent to loss. Whether one lived or died, the gears of the world continued to turn.
Just like now.
The same bloodied mess filled the central square.
Corpses littered the area, broken banners scattered between fallen weapons. If you dared look closely, you could recognize faces—some familiar, others once feared.
Not far off, Kakashi stood, arms crossed, gaze heavy. He said nothing. What could he say?
Do not live by sin.
The sight before him echoed that phrase bitterly.
He was certain now—this riot had been foreseen by Hiruzen.
The old Hokage's plan was too perfectly timed. He'd stationed guards at the prison just before the riot broke out. His Anbu had arrived in moments when the Root attacked.
Coincidence?
Too many coincidences make inevitability.
Especially considering how the Sarutobi clan had suffered the most casualties.
"013..." Kakashi murmured, remembering the chaos. He felt fortunate he'd been elsewhere when the riot began. Had he been nearby, he might've gotten involved—and this wasn't the kind of battle that earned glory.
This was a power struggle.
A conflict for control.
Not for the village.
He'd shed enough blood. He didn't want more of it on his hands. Rin's death still haunted him.
So he watched.
Observed.
He became one of the few to witness the full extent of the tragedy.
And now, it was time to deliver his report.
With each step toward the Hokage, Kakashi's frown deepened.
He passed Shisui, who stood dazed and injured—survivor of a massacre.
Before Hiruzen, Kakashi halted and spoke bluntly.
"Root has been completely wiped out. Except for Uchiha Shisui."
Simple. Clean. As detached as possible.
After all...
Compared to what else had happened, the loss of Root was minor.
Those ninja were not heroes—they were remnants of Danzo's manipulation, most recruited from orphans or war prisoners.
One Shisui survived. That was something.
Not because Kakashi viewed life lightly. But he had survived a war.
Death was familiar.
And for ninjas bred for battle, dying in a riot incited by their own leaders was a pitiful end.
What stung most? It was a waste.
Just like his father's death.
"Sixty percent of Anbu are dead or incapacitated. Injuries are still being counted."
Kakashi didn't soften the blow.
"With Anbu crippled, the village won't stabilize anytime soon."
Stopping the Root riot had cost more than anyone expected. The Anbu had moved in good faith, trying to contain the madness. But Root didn't hold back—they struck with bloodlust.
What began as restraint soon escalated into killing.
Anbu held their ground.
They tried to act honorably, but Root attacked like madmen. It had turned personal.
But that wasn't the worst.
"As for the Shimura and Sarutobi clans..."
Kakashi paused. His voice caught in his throat.
He'd seen it last night—two Root ninja, masked, organized, and ruthless.
They bypassed Anbu and struck straight at the Shimura and Sarutobi.
Not just fighting.
Slaughtering.
Looting.
It was no longer a riot—it was a purge.
And Sarutobi had suffered the most.
Kakashi's eyes flicked toward the aging Hokage. His face was drained of color.
He had orchestrated this.
And it had backfired.
Last night's strategy had been transparent to someone like Kakashi. First, partner with Danzo to stage a rescue. Then, just as chaos erupts, appear as the savior—Hokage to the rescue.
Reclaim lost prestige.
Justify releasing Danzo into limited custody, under the pretext of needing Root guidance.
Then, while the Uchiha Guard was away, show that Hokage alone could hold the village.
A perfect scheme.
A clean riot.
A hero's narrative.
But what did Hiruzen get?
Yes, technically, he had quelled the riot.
But no one was cheering.
The dead told a different story.
Anbu. Root. Shimura. Sarutobi.
Even civilians had died.
The riot had erupted in the most crowded area of Konoha—the central square.
Villagers had gathered for memorial and celebration, not knowing they'd walk into a battlefield.
So yes—Hiruzen was the "hero."
But no one saw him that way.
"If your clan is devastated…" Kakashi finally said, "...you know why."
"There were two Root ninja who went berserk. One moment they were chasing Shimura forces, the next they were cutting through Sarutobi defenses."
"Your clan couldn't even hold them off. Half are dead. Shimura's the same."
And then Kakashi said it.
"It doesn't matter."
That phrase hit Hiruzen like a kunai to the heart.
He turned, his eyes bloodshot, staring at Kakashi.
He wanted to scream: Why didn't you help?
But the words never came.
He was tired. Drained. Old.
And worst of all—his trusted partner had betrayed him.
Hiruzen had planned to summon Enma, the Monkey King, to fight back. But Enma had refused.
Said the battlefield was too humid.
Complained it smelled like sea rot.
He'd outright asked to resign.
Without Enma's strength, Hiruzen was crippled.
He had once flattened Kurama with Enma's staff. Broken Hashirama's Wood Style during the Chūnin Exams.
But now, he was reduced to brawling.
And just when he needed chakra—he had none left.
That's when Obito struck.
The masked man hadn't forgotten Konoha's crimes. His hatred for Bai Ye, for the system, burned deep.
He sent White Zetsu clones disguised as Root ninja to decimate Sarutobi's camp.
Orochimaru had done the same.
Still sore from being exposed by Danzo, Orochimaru took vengeance.
He coordinated with Obito for the first time.
And they were...surprisingly effective.
Kakashi let out a long sigh.
Sarutobi clan. Anbu. Root. Shimura.
So many bodies.
But the worst part?
"The villagers blame you."
Kakashi's voice was quiet.
"Not Root. Not Danzo. You."
Sarutobi snapped.
"How many of my people died?! Anbu too! And still they blame me?!"
"I saved them!"
Kakashi didn't flinch.
"You didn't save them. You failed to prevent the bloodshed. Over a hundred civilians died."
"That's your responsibility."
He spoke plainly.
Sarutobi had told him to be honest.
So he was.
"In short…"
"Even with all your losses—even with your injury—even if Anbu's been gutted…"
"Your reputation still stinks."
With that, Kakashi turned and left, hands in pockets, silver hair catching the morning light.
Behind him, Sarutobi trembled.
His heart pounded in his chest, aching with betrayal, guilt, and rage.
And still...
He walked.
Step by step, back to the prison.
In the shadows of the deepest cell—
Danzo sat calmly.
He smiled, as if greeting an old lover.
He expected thanks.
Expected to be freed.
But—
SMACK!
The slap cracked through the air like thunder.
Danzo clutched his cheek, stunned.
His eyes widened as reality sank in.
Sarutobi had changed.
This wasn't the old friend he once trusted.
Years of loyalty...
Of affection...
Of brotherhood...
All of it—
Was a mistake.
Chapter 86: Danzo—The Love And Affection Of These Years, After All, Was Paid By Mistake! (4)
Ninja World.
Land of Fire.
Konohagakure.
The second morning had arrived.
Sunlight poured gently across the ruins of the central square, once prepared for celebration, now only a grave reminder of chaos.
The warmth of the sun could not thaw the coldness in the hearts of the villagers.
It was a new day...
The sun always rose.
And the world moved on, indifferent to loss. Whether one lived or died, the gears of the world continued to turn.
Just like now.
The same bloodied mess filled the central square.
Corpses littered the area, broken banners scattered between fallen weapons. If you dared look closely, you could recognize faces—some familiar, others once feared.
Not far off, Kakashi stood, arms crossed, gaze heavy. He said nothing. What could he say?
Do not live by sin.
The sight before him echoed that phrase bitterly.
He was certain now—this riot had been foreseen by Hiruzen.
The old Hokage's plan was too perfectly timed. He'd stationed guards at the prison just before the riot broke out. His Anbu had arrived in moments when the Root attacked.
Coincidence?
Too many coincidences make inevitability.
Especially considering how the Sarutobi clan had suffered the most casualties.
"013..." Kakashi murmured, remembering the chaos. He felt fortunate he'd been elsewhere when the riot began. Had he been nearby, he might've gotten involved—and this wasn't the kind of battle that earned glory.
This was a power struggle.
A conflict for control.
Not for the village.
He'd shed enough blood. He didn't want more of it on his hands. Rin's death still haunted him.
So he watched.
Observed.
He became one of the few to witness the full extent of the tragedy.
And now, it was time to deliver his report.
With each step toward the Hokage, Kakashi's frown deepened.
He passed Shisui, who stood dazed and injured—survivor of a massacre.
Before Hiruzen, Kakashi halted and spoke bluntly.
"Root has been completely wiped out. Except for Uchiha Shisui."
Simple. Clean. As detached as possible.
After all...
Compared to what else had happened, the loss of Root was minor.
Those ninja were not heroes—they were remnants of Danzo's manipulation, most recruited from orphans or war prisoners.
One Shisui survived. That was something.
Not because Kakashi viewed life lightly. But he had survived a war.
Death was familiar.
And for ninjas bred for battle, dying in a riot incited by their own leaders was a pitiful end.
What stung most? It was a waste.
Just like his father's death.
"Sixty percent of Anbu are dead or incapacitated. Injuries are still being counted."
Kakashi didn't soften the blow.
"With Anbu crippled, the village won't stabilize anytime soon."
Stopping the Root riot had cost more than anyone expected. The Anbu had moved in good faith, trying to contain the madness. But Root didn't hold back—they struck with bloodlust.
What began as restraint soon escalated into killing.
Anbu held their ground.
They tried to act honorably, but Root attacked like madmen. It had turned personal.
But that wasn't the worst.
"As for the Shimura and Sarutobi clans..."
Kakashi paused. His voice caught in his throat.
He'd seen it last night—two Root ninja, masked, organized, and ruthless.
They bypassed Anbu and struck straight at the Shimura and Sarutobi.
Not just fighting.
Slaughtering.
Looting.
It was no longer a riot—it was a purge.
And Sarutobi had suffered the most.
Kakashi's eyes flicked toward the aging Hokage. His face was drained of color.
He had orchestrated this.
And it had backfired.
Last night's strategy had been transparent to someone like Kakashi. First, partner with Danzo to stage a rescue. Then, just as chaos erupts, appear as the savior—Hokage to the rescue.
Reclaim lost prestige.
Justify releasing Danzo into limited custody, under the pretext of needing Root guidance.
Then, while the Uchiha Guard was away, show that Hokage alone could hold the village.
A perfect scheme.
A clean riot.
A hero's narrative.
But what did Hiruzen get?
Yes, technically, he had quelled the riot.
But no one was cheering.
The dead told a different story.
Anbu. Root. Shimura. Sarutobi.
Even civilians had died.
The riot had erupted in the most crowded area of Konoha—the central square.
Villagers had gathered for memorial and celebration, not knowing they'd walk into a battlefield.
So yes—Hiruzen was the "hero."
But no one saw him that way.
"If your clan is devastated…" Kakashi finally said, "...you know why."
"There were two Root ninja who went berserk. One moment they were chasing Shimura forces, the next they were cutting through Sarutobi defenses."
"Your clan couldn't even hold them off. Half are dead. Shimura's the same."
And then Kakashi said it.
"It doesn't matter."
That phrase hit Hiruzen like a kunai to the heart.
He turned, his eyes bloodshot, staring at Kakashi.
He wanted to scream: Why didn't you help?
But the words never came.
He was tired. Drained. Old.
And worst of all—his trusted partner had betrayed him.
Hiruzen had planned to summon Enma, the Monkey King, to fight back. But Enma had refused.
Said the battlefield was too humid.
Complained it smelled like sea rot.
He'd outright asked to resign.
Without Enma's strength, Hiruzen was crippled.
He had once flattened Kurama with Enma's staff. Broken Hashirama's Wood Style during the Chūnin Exams.
But now, he was reduced to brawling.
And just when he needed chakra—he had none left.
That's when Obito struck.
The masked man hadn't forgotten Konoha's crimes. His hatred for Bai Ye, for the system, burned deep.
He sent White Zetsu clones disguised as Root ninja to decimate Sarutobi's camp.
Orochimaru had done the same.
Still sore from being exposed by Danzo, Orochimaru took vengeance.
He coordinated with Obito for the first time.
And they were...surprisingly effective.
Kakashi let out a long sigh.
Sarutobi clan. Anbu. Root. Shimura.
So many bodies.
But the worst part?
"The villagers blame you."
Kakashi's voice was quiet.
"Not Root. Not Danzo. You."
Sarutobi snapped.
"How many of my people died?! Anbu too! And still they blame me?!"
"I saved them!"
Kakashi didn't flinch.
"You didn't save them. You failed to prevent the bloodshed. Over a hundred civilians died."
"That's your responsibility."
He spoke plainly.
Sarutobi had told him to be honest.
So he was.
"In short…"
"Even with all your losses—even with your injury—even if Anbu's been gutted…"
"Your reputation still stinks."
With that, Kakashi turned and left, hands in pockets, silver hair catching the morning light.
Behind him, Sarutobi trembled.
His heart pounded in his chest, aching with betrayal, guilt, and rage.
And still...
He walked.
Step by step, back to the prison.
In the shadows of the deepest cell—
Danzo sat calmly.
He smiled, as if greeting an old lover.
He expected thanks.
Expected to be freed.
But—
SMACK!
The slap cracked through the air like thunder.
Danzo clutched his cheek, stunned.
His eyes widened as reality sank in.
Sarutobi had changed.
This wasn't the old friend he once trusted.
Years of loyalty...
Of affection...
Of brotherhood...
All of it—
Was a mistake.
JOIN MY PATREON TO READ ADVANCE 30+ CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Prince209