Shikako Nara’s Guide To Delinquency and Military Insurrection
(Rule Four: No place is invulnerable. Keep your guard up, even at home.)
The sky has turned dark, the view from the tower’s top now of your village in its nighttime wear. The lights of businesses and houses twinkling bright, people overly loud as they go from restaurants to bars, interrupting the tranquility.
This lack of discipline is what Hiruzen has allowed to fester Konoha. Weakness. No longer. You will have to make changes. Curfews and and harsher penalties.
You turn away from the window, the sight of your village still so tainted sickens you, enrages you, and so you must look away. But as you turn, you think you see a face in the glass. Behind you?
No, you dart a glance through your office, only your ROOT guards–all under chameleon jutsu and masked besides. When you turn back the face is gone.
Only a reflection, surely.
You put the thought from your mind, put the hat back on–though the veils often limit your peripheral vision and there is no one significant to see. You have much to do in order to make your village great again.
Nothing can stop you now.
The second time, night again, you are waiting for one of your teams to come back and report.
They are only ANBU, not ROOT, and while you were not expecting much, you are disgusted by how long it is taking them.
It should not be this difficult to apprehend one child, jinchuuriki status or not.
Another matter you must correct, Hiruzen’s indulgence of the creature. It should have been handled and trained properly from the start–even the strongest of weapons can rust from poor handling–but instead that foolish monkey had it pretending at a normal life. As if a jinchuuriki could ever be normal.
One of the proximity sensors sounds off, the ANBU team returning, finally, but when they appear…
“Where is the boy?” you ask, the sheer incompetence of these agents causing you to bite the words out, irritated. The four ANBU stand in front of you in various states of bruised and battered, filthy, not even bearing a single blonde hair from the creature.
They shuffle silently, nervously, uselessly in front of you before the captain utters, “He disappeared. We lost him in the sewers.”
“It was as if the shadows just swallowed him whole!” one of the others says inanely, before hunching down from the sharp glance of their captain.
If this is the quality of ANBU that Hiruzen’s administration produced, then it is no wonder that all their nukenin have been walking the Elemental Nations unharmed.
Displeased, you activate the seals on their arms, watch as they try not to scream, grip futilely at themselves before dropping to the floor of your office. A modification of the old design, incorporating what you could reverse engineer of the Hyuuga’s Caged Bird.
You summon another team–ROOT this time, though lately they’re running thin on the ground which is why you had to resort to standard ANBU to begin with–have them remove the bodies and assign them the incomplete mission.
For ROOT agents there is only success or death.
The jinchuuriki is never found.
You are running out of ROOT agents.
The village, frail from decades of mismanagement, crumbles under your steady hand.
This is not how your tenure as Hokage is meant to go.
You are returning to your office after dealing with Yuuhi’s idiocy–the man is too used to dealing with genin, clearly unable to handle the role of jounin commander as he always claimed he could–when you stop just inside the doorway.
Someone is in your seat.
Someone is in your seat, feet propped up on your desk, looking for all the world like she belongs there and not like she is committing the highest form of disrespect and treason.
“Guards!” you yell, and the fact that you must call for them just compounds the sheer frustration of this situation. Four masked and hooded ANBU appear.
They do nothing else.
“Seize her!” you add, enraged that you must instruct them on this most obvious order.
They turn towards you, instead.
It is at this point you realize you do not sense either ROOT or the updated ANBU seals on them. It is at this point you realize your shadow is stretching far longer than it should. It is at this point you realize you cannot move.
You realize all this too late.
The door slams shut behind you, a second shadow tendril snaking past you and returning to the girl.
The girl who casually removes her feet from your desk, gets up from your seat, and saunters around so she is standing in the center of your office, in the center of the four masked shinobi who are not yours.
The masks come off.
Still you cannot move.
“Honestly,” says the girl, “what were you expecting?”
A/N: … ugh, writing from Danzo’s POV is the worst. But also, like, I could not think of any other way to fill this prompt, lionhead. It’s a little bit spin-off-y of Ascendant, though not necessary. Just the sheer delusion of a man who has gotten what he wants and still can’t understand why things aren’t going the way he planned.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
(seriously, i’ve got nothing in my ask box. I might start cross posting brainstorms onto ao3–for safety reasons–so if there’s any old brainstorm (like from all of the ask box fake fic titles event) that you want to, er, re-prompt in some way, they’re open season too)