"The girl, Maki," Danzō continued. "What is her status?"
"She is not at her family's home. Surveillance indicates she is waiting near the boy's residence. It seems she did not believe his excuses."
A rare, genuine smile stretched across Danzō's scarred face. This was even better than he had planned. Their bond was stronger than anticipated. A loyalty forged in the crucible of the Genin Corps was a powerful thing. It was a tool he could use.
Some times they'd have the partner they assigned to kill each other to the death if the bond was recent. Or have them operate separately over long time frames until the person forgot what thier loved one even looked like. The first option wasn't viable as they'd rather both die than continue fighting, more so the boy, so he'd think about arranging that for the girl if she had more talent. But the second option seemed better to separate them.
"Let them work together," Danzō commanded. "Let them believe they are only surviving by relying on each other. A shared secret, a shared crime... these are the things that forge the strongest, most loyal weapons. Observe them, but do not interfere unless necessary."
(1st Person - Judai's POV)
The Chunin's words echoed in my head as I walked through the darkened streets of Konoha. You are given the code: 2493. Inside is a wooden box, no matter what you do you are forbidden from looking inside. Doing so means signing your own execution letter. It felt like I was being thrown to the wolves, and the Shepherd had just shrugged and said, "Good luck."
I reached the edge of the Uchiha district. Even before the massacre, this place was a fortress. The Uchiha Police Force patrolled it with an arrogant pride, their Sharingan eyes missing nothing. The idea of just walking up to a warehouse door was suicidal. The key code they gave me was probably a trap, meant to see if I was stupid enough to use it.
I settled into the deep shadows of an old oak tree, its branches overlooking the street leading to the target warehouse. I needed a plan. A crazy, stupid plan that was so illogical it just might work.
A whisper from the darkness nearly made me jump out of my skin. "You didn't really think I'd let you do this alone, did you, baka yaro?"
I spun around to see Machi materializing from the shadows, her arms crossed, her face a mask of furious determination.
"Machi! What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.
"You're a terrible liar," she shot back. "I waited at your apartment. When you didn't come back, I knew. You're not doing this alone, Judai."
"You can't be here! It's too dangerous! The Uchiha Police are everywhere!"
"Then we'll get caught together," she said, her voice unyielding. "You think I'm going to let those bastards hold me over your head while you risk your neck? Kuso o taberu na! I'm in this. We're in this. Now, what's the plan?"
A wave of profound relief washed over me. I wasn't alone. "Okay," I breathed, my mind kicking into overdrive. "Okay. The direct approach is out. Their eyes will pick up any movement, any flicker of chakra. We can't sneak in."
"So we fight our way in?" she asked, her hand already moving toward her kunai pouch.
"No. We'd be dead in seconds," I said, a wild, stupid idea beginning to form. "We can't be stealthy... so we have to be the opposite of stealthy. We have to be so loud and obnoxious that they don't see what's really happening."
Machi stared at me. "What are you talking about?"
I grinned. "I'm talking about a distraction. The Uchiha are proud. Arrogant. They hate being disrespected. We're going to give them the biggest disrespect they've ever seen."
Twenty minutes later, the plan was in motion. Machi was positioned two streets over, hidden on a rooftop overlooking the warehouse. My job was phase one: Operation Piss Off the Uchiha.
I created a single shadow clone and had it transform. Not into a rock, or a piece of trash, but into a perfect replica of an Inuzuka clan member's mutt. A big, scruffy, slobbering dog.
I sent the "dog" trotting down the middle of the main street, right toward a two-man Uchiha patrol. As it got close, it lifted its leg and began to pee on the Uchiha clan's sacred fan symbol, painted proudly on the wall of their main precinct.
The reaction was immediate.
"Hey! Get that filthy mutt away from there!" one of the Uchiha shouted, his voice dripping with outrage.
The dog just wagged its tail and kept peeing. The two officers started marching toward it, their Sharingan blazing. That was the signal.
From a side alley, I launched the real distraction. It wasn't a jutsu. It was me.
I sprinted out into the middle of the street, wearing the brightest, most obnoxious orange scarf I could find in my closet, which I had brought for this exact purpose.
"HEY! UCHIHA!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I HEARD YOU GUYS ARE SO FULL OF YOURSELVES YOU THINK YOUR FARTS SMELL LIKE ROSES! IS IT TRUE?!"
Every Uchiha within a three-block radius stopped dead. Their heads swiveled in my direction. The two patrolmen forgot all about the peeing dog (which promptly dispelled) and fixed their glowing red eyes on me. The sheer, unadulterated audacity of my insult short-circuited their brains. They weren't seeing a threat; they were seeing a target for their righteous fury.
"You're dead, you little brat!" one of them snarled, and they started running towards me.
I didn't stick around. I took off, leading them on a chase away from the warehouse. More Uchiha joined the pursuit, drawn by the commotion and the insults I kept screaming over my shoulder.
"YOUR HAIRSTYLES LOOK LIKE A DUCK'S ASS!"
"IS IT A CLAN REQUIREMENT TO BE THAT EMO OR ARE YOU BORN WITH A STICK UP YOUR BUTT?"
They were so blinded by rage, so focused on the loud, orange-scarfed idiot making a mockery of their clan, that they never even looked up.
While their eyes were on me, Machi was a ghost. She dropped from her rooftop, landed silently behind the now unguarded warehouse, and slipped through a back window.
I led the Uchiha mob on a merry chase for another five minutes before ducking into a complex alleyway, creating three shadow clones to go in different directions, and using a transformation jutsu to turn into a trash can. I held my breath as they stormed past, their Sharingan eyes scanning for a running boy, not a stationary piece of garbage.
Once they were gone, I made my way back to our meeting point. Machi was already there, holding a simple wooden box.
"Did you get it?" I asked, panting.
She held up the box, a rare, impressed smile on her face. "Your plan was completely idiotic," she said. "But... it actually worked. The whole back side of the warehouse was empty. They all ran after you."
I grinned, ripping off the orange scarf. "Never underestimate the power of a wounded ego."
"There was someone else inside," she added, her smile fading. "A chunin. He was near the crate. I had to wait for him to move to another aisle before I could grab it."
My blood ran cold. Just like I'd suspected. A trap within a trap.
"We have to go," I said, my voice urgent. "Now."
We took the box and melted into the dead, silent night, two orphans running from shadows that seemed to stretch from every corner of the village.
----------------------------------------------
(1st Person - Judai's POV)
The walk back to the Genin Corps training grounds was a silent, nerve-wracking ordeal. The small wooden box felt like it was burning a hole in my hands. Every shadow seemed to hold a Uchiha patrol, every gust of wind sounded like an approaching ANBU. We had done it. We had pulled off the impossible. And now, we had to deliver the goods.
Machi walked beside me, her jaw set, her usual stormy energy coiled into a tight, dangerous knot. She hadn't said a word since we'd left the Uchiha district, but her presence was a solid, reassuring weight next to me.
"Machi, you don't have to be here," I said quietly as we approached the familiar, drab building. "You can go home. I can handle this part."
She stopped and turned to face me, her eyes flashing with a fire I hadn't seen in months. "Are you an idiot? A baka? Of course I'm here. I'm not letting you face that oni alone."
I sighed. I knew it was useless to argue. We were in this together, for better or worse.
We found him waiting in the same empty classroom, the one who had replaced Ito. The one who had given me the mission. He stood with his back to us, staring out the window.
"You're late," he said, without turning around.
"We ran into complications," I replied, stepping forward and placing the wooden box on the desk between us. "But we got it."
He finally turned, his face as blank and emotionless as ever. He glanced at the box, then his eyes flickered to Machi.
"I told Judai to come alone," he said, his voice flat.
*BANG*
Before I could say anything, Machi stepped forward, smacking her hands on the desk and leaning in, her knuckles white.
"You can stop being a fucking coward now," she snarled, the raw, unfiltered fury back in her voice. The months of suppressed anger and frustration were finally boiling over. "You think I don't know what you're doing? Threatening me to get to him? Using me like some kind of leash? Well, it's not going to work. Not anymore. Whatever you want from him, you have to go through me, too. We're in this together, you get that, you Emotionless Asshole?"
He didn't flinch. Not even a twitch. That perfect little Shinobi-trained poker face didn't crack, didn't react. He just stood there like a mannequin dipped in apathy.
Which, of course, only pissed Machi off more.
She laughed once—sharp, joyless. "Wow. You really don't feel a single goddamn thing, do you? What do they even feed you freaks in whatever basement you slithered out of? Steroids and soy sauce packets? I swear to god, I've met toads with more personality."
She jabbed a finger on the desk.
"You're like a walking pencil sketch with a superiority complex. All that ANBU training, and they still couldn't teach you how to blink like a human. You really think standing there like a budget scarecrow with a superiority fetish is gonna scare me? Try harder, Sensei Sociopath. Or should I say... Emotionally Constipated Art Project."
Still nothing.
Machi leaned in closer, her voice dropping, lethal and low.
"You can stare at me with your creepy 'I've-never-seen-a-sunset' eyes all you want, but here's the deal, Sketchbook: if you think you can use me to manipulate Judai again, I will gut you and use your spine as a fucking paintbrush. Do I make myself clear, you discount ANBU knockoff?"
Silence stretched like a pulled wire.
The Root agent blinked—finally—and looked at me.
"You brought her knowing she would say these things?"
Before I could answer, Machi cut in again.
"Oh, don't act surprised, Emotionless Bobblehead. You picked this fight. Now live with it."
The instructor didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed. A cold, hollow sound that had no humor in it.
"Such fire," he said, a mocking smile on his lips. "You better be prepared for the consequences of failure, little girl. Both of you." He picked up the box. "But first things first."
He didn't open it. He simply examined the seals and the grain of the wood. "This is the correct box," he confirmed, before casually sealing it away into a scroll he produced from his flak jacket. "You passed the test."
He straightened up, the mocking smile widening into a predatory grin. "Which means you're ready for the consequences of insubordination."
In an instant, the air in the room grew heavy, charged with a chilling amount of chakra. It poured off him in waves, a pressure that was physically suffocating. It was ten times more powerful than anything he'd let us feel before. This man wasn't just a chunin. He was stronger.
"You wanted to face me together?" he taunted, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Fine."
He moved.
It wasn't a run or a leap. It was an explosion of motion. He crossed the ten feet between us in the blink of an eye. I barely had time to shove Machi to the side as I drew a kunai to block.
CLANG!
The impact sent a shockwave up my arm that made my teeth rattle. His strength was monstrous. He wasn't just a chunin. He was a jonin, at least. He pressed his attack, a relentless flurry of strikes that forced me back, my single kunai barely deflecting his blows.
"Is that all you have, Stupid shit head?!" Machi screamed, recovering her balance. She charged in from his flank, her movements a blur. She aimed a powerful kick at his ribs, but he simply twisted, letting the blow glance off his flak jacket as he backhanded her across the face, sending her stumbling.
He never took his eyes off me. He was toying with us, showing us the vast, terrifying gap between our level and his.
"You showed teamwork to steal the box," he said, his voice calm amidst the chaos of our fight. "Let's see if your teamwork can keep you alive."
He disengaged from me with a powerful kick that sent me staggering back toward the desk. He flashed through a series of hand signs faster than I could track. "Earth Style: Stone Spikes!"
The floor beneath Machi erupted, sharp pillars of rock shooting upwards. She leaped backward, twisting in mid-air with incredible agility, landing on the desktops to avoid being impaled.
But he was already there, waiting for her. He appeared behind her in a flicker, his hand aimed for the back of her neck.
"Machi, behind you!" I yelled.
I pushed off the desk, hurling my kunai at him. He didn't even bother to look, simply tilting his head as the blade whizzed past his ear. It was a feint. As he dodged, I was already moving, my hands forming the seals for the only real jutsu I had.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
A plume of flame erupted from my mouth, engulfing the space where he stood. Machi used the opportunity to leap away, putting distance between herself and the blaze.
The fire died down, revealing... nothing. Just a charred spot on the floor.
A flicker of movement above. I looked up. He was clinging to the ceiling like a spider, a sadistic smile on his face.
"Not bad," he said, dropping to the floor in a silent crouch. "But not nearly good enough."
The battle wasn't a test anymore. It was a punishment. And it was just beginning.
(3rd Person - Danzō's Lair)
The Root operative knelt, placing the simple wooden box on the stone floor before his master. Danzō reached for it with his one good hand, his movements slow and deliberate. He lifted the lid.
Inside, suspended in a clear, viscous fluid, was an eyeball. Its sclera was stark white, but the iris was a deep, blood red, three black tomoe spinning lazily within its depths. A fully matured Sharingan.
A rare, genuine smile stretched across Danzō's scarred face. He ran his thumb over the smooth wood of the box, not looking at the prize itself, but at what it represented.
This was no sacred relic stolen from the Naka Shrine. This was refuse. This was the "Dishonored Eye."
He remembered the reports from his agent within the Uchiha Military Police Force. The eye had belonged to Uchiha Naka, a shinobi of considerable talent but weak will. During a skirmish on the border with Kumo, his squad was ambushed. Outnumbered, Naka had abandoned his post, using a genjutsu on his own comrades to cover his retreat. His cowardice led directly to the death of two other Uchiha.
The clan's justice had been swift and merciless. Fugaku and the elders could not abide such a stain on their honor. Naka was executed, but death was not the end of his punishment. His Sharingan, the very symbol of Uchiha pride, was deemed to have witnessed and enabled an act of ultimate dishonor. It was an abomination.
They would not allow it to be interred in the clan's sacred grounds. They would not allow it to be studied or passed down. To them, it was poison. In an act of ultimate repudiation, they had surgically removed the eye from Naka's corpse. They treated it not as a clan treasure, but as criminal evidence. It was officially logged with the KMPF as "Biological material pertaining to the sanctioned execution of Uchiha Naka for dereliction of duty and treason."
It was sealed, cataloged, and stored in a common contraband warehouse. A bureaucratic tomb. An eternal symbol of shame, cast out by the Uchiha's own suffocating pride.
And Danzō had seen the opportunity. A perfect, fully matured Sharingan, discarded like trash. He didn't need to risk his best operatives fighting Fugaku's elite for it. He didn't need a complex heist. He just needed a pair of desperate, disposable children who could be pointed in the right direction.
"Report," Danzō rasped, finally looking up from the box.
"The subjects were successful, Lord Danzō. Previous teams failed to even bypass the outer Uchiha patrols."
"Of course they failed," Danzō mused. "They tried to use stealth. They thought like proper ninja. This boy... he thinks like a cornered animal. Unpredictable." He savored the irony. The Uchiha's arrogance created the opportunity, and a clanless orphan's chaotic desperation had delivered it to his doorstep.
"The boy and girl have returned to the training grounds," the operative added. "They are meeting with their instructor now."
"Let them," Danzō said, carefully closing the box. "Let them face the consequences of their success. Fear is a fine sharpener, but defiance... defiance is the fire in which the strongest blades are tempered." He now had his prize, and soon, he would have his new weapons, forged in a crucible of his own making.