49 - A Final Cup of Sake [Bonus]

Danzō was in a very awkward situation.

If he could use an earth jutsu, he would have already used it to dig himself a hole to hide in.

But thanks to the deterrent force he had established over the years, no one dared to openly disrespect him in the absence of solid evidence. However, the tension in the air was making him uncomfortable.

He had always been the one making others feel this way, after all.

When he saw Orochimaru actually surrender without resistance, he knew the man was up to no good.

Still, he wasn't particularly worried that the Snake Sannin would betray him. Orochimaru abandoning his role as a Konoha ninja would only make him more reliant on him.

Moreover, Danzō didn't feel that he had done anything wrong. Even though he had desecrated the First Hokage's remains, it was all for the village, wasn't it?

The fact that this plan had even reached fruition indicated that he wasn't the only one thinking this way.

Therefore, he ignored the surrounding ninjas, brushed off their stares, and observed quietly, exuding confidence.

His upright demeanor was enough to shake the resolve of those who doubted him.

After all, how could someone who had once served as the Hokage's advisor stoop so low as to desecrate the founder of the village?

When Orochimaru was escorted back to the main square, he was greeted by this exact scene.

He couldn't help but find it amusing.

"Your face says it all, sensei. Did you really expect anything different?"

Even at this point, these people were still deluding themselves. That said, Danzō was indeed a valuable asset—not someone to be wasted at this juncture.

"Orochimaru." Hiruzen didn't even know where to begin.

After so many years as Hokage, this was the first time he felt truly at a loss. Even he couldn't forgive himself for what had happened.

In the end, all the words he wanted to say turned into a sigh.

Jiraiya and Tsunade stood silently by his side.

"Sandaime-sama..." Minato wanted to offer words of comfort but couldn't find the right ones. He decided it was better to stick to business.

Turning to Orochimaru, he asked, "There's no way you did this alone. Who supported you?"

"Minato, don't underestimate me," Orochimaru replied.

Hearing this, the gathered ninja clans grew visibly angrier. While anger was the dominant emotion, there was also a trace of fear.

After all, who among them didn't have ancestral graves?

This matter couldn't be handled carelessly. If it wasn't addressed properly, they might as well all switch careers to gravekeepers.

Knowing that no immediate answers would be forthcoming, Minato waved his hand, signaling the jonin to take Orochimaru away.

"Sandaime-sama, I suggest we temporarily suspend all missions outside the village. What do you think?"

"That's prudent... though the economic impact..." Hirzuen paused, weighing the options.

"Better than risking further incidents," Minato added quietly.

Given the gravity of the situation, no one would be able to focus on their work unless it was thoroughly resolved.

As for his old friend, while Hiruzen could somewhat guess his intentions, he hadn't expected things to go this far.

The sheer audacity was mind-boggling.

Feeling weighed down, he didn't have the energy to fully consider the long-term consequences of this incident.

Time simply didn't permit it.

"Disperse and return to your posts," Hirzuen instructed.

The word of the former Hokage still carried weight. While suspicions about Danzō lingered, no one doubted Hiruzen.

Besides, it had already been a long day. At least Orochimaru had been captured.

Trusting his integrity, the ninja clans withdrew their suspicion of Danzō. After bowing respectfully to Minato and Hirzuen, they departed.

Hirzuen and Minato exchanged bitter smiles. The gesture was significant, but they had no choice but to accept it.

While Hirzuen took it in stride, Minato began to question whether he had acted too hastily.

He hadn't anticipated that people would be bold enough to go this far.

The Uchiha clan also sheathed their weapons. Under the leadership of Yaku, they bowed to the two Hokage before departing. Masashi was among them.

"The village won't forget this easily," Yaku murmured as they walked.

"No, but they'll pretend to, if needed," Masashi replied quietly. Just like they pretended not to notice the Uchiha's isolation.

The day's twists and turns had been exhausting. Minato's decisiveness had forced the situation to escalate far beyond its original intent.

Fortunately, things were still under control.

Back at the Uchiha compound, the clan members resumed their daily routines—some went to work, others tended to their personal affairs.

At home, Masashi sank into the sofa, reflecting on the day's events.

The one who suffered the most was undoubtedly Anko. Once a promising student of one of the Sannin, her future now looked bleak.

When he left, he saw her trailing pitifully behind Minato. All the ninjas associated with Orochimaru would soon face similar predicaments.

But there was no choice. This wasn't a situation that allowed for pleasantries. Everyone was fighting tooth and nail.

Even someone as powerful as Madara had abandoned his ideals in the face of hopeless despair, resorting to the most extreme measures.

Life was tough for everyone. No one started out wanting to be the villain.

---

Father and Mother didn't return yet; I might as well cook something for them.

With that thought, Masashi got up, changed out of his gear, and went to the kitchen.

Though he spent most of his time training or earning money, he was surprisingly skilled in household matters. His Sharingan activated with a subtle red glow as he surveyed the kitchen.

Life was the foundation of everything; without it, nothing else mattered.

He formed a cross seal, and three shadow clones materialized in puffs of smoke, each taking their position in the kitchen.

The original Masashi placed his marked kunai at strategic points: near the stove, by the cutting board, and beside the sink. With the Flying Thunder God, he could move instantly between stations, ensuring nothing would burn or overcook.

One clone began preparing the sukiyaki, his Sharingan tracking the exact moment the meat needed to be turned for perfect caramelization.

Another worked on the omelette rolls, using a precise water jutsu to maintain the perfect temperature beneath the pan.

The third handled the teriyaki eel, while Masashi himself prepared the potato salad.

A subtle flicker of chakra, and he appeared instantly by the stove, catching an egg mid-flip. His Sharingan tracked the heat patterns in the pan, showing him exactly when to rotate each ingredient.

A thin layer of ice crystals formed around his fingers as he regulated the temperature of the goods with precise chakra control.

The Third Hokage would probably laugh if he saw me using S-rank techniques for cooking, he thought wryly as he flashed between stations, his clones working in perfect synchronization.

But efficiency was efficiency, whether in battle or in the kitchen.

Live well. Laugh when you want to. Curse when you need to.

Be cheeky if it suits you. If you like someone, pursue them.

When life feels overwhelming, drink the night away with close friends.

And above all, cherish your parents.

Having cleaned up, he surveyed his handiwork. The pantry had been well-stocked with fresh ingredients, thanks to his parents.

Now a perfect meal lay prepared: sukiyaki for three with meat seared to perfection, spring onion omelette rolls with golden-brown edges rolled with precision, teriyaki eel rice glazed to a mirror shine, and a potato salad chilled to the ideal temperature with his ice manipulation.

His clones disappeared in puffs of smoke as he deactivated his Sharingan.

Just as he finished cleaning up, his parents returned.

"Masashi, you're back?" his father called out, setting down his latest notebook of equipment maintenance theories.

"The shop was quiet today," he continued as they settled in. "People are worried."

"They're saying strange things about the clans..." his mother added hesitantly.

"Let's eat while it's still warm," Masashi said gently. "You must be hungry after work. The worries can wait until after dinner."

"Oh, speaking of warm..." His father leaned over the dishes with sudden interest, pulling out his notebook. "The way you've seared this meat—there's something different about the technique. Have you been experimenting with my garlic oil method?"

"Dear," his mother interrupted softly, adding more vegetables to their bowls. "Let us eat in peace."

Masashi had always been self-reliant, rarely causing his parents any worry. In fact, they wouldn't have known how to intervene even if they wanted to.

After all, they weren't ninjas themselves.

Despite coming from a ninja family, they were well aware of how difficult the profession was.

Family lineage might be a resource for ninjas, but it wasn't decisive.

In the era of nations and villages, there wasn't much difference between ninjas from common families and those from clans—at least at the genin and chunin levels. The advantages of being from a clan only became significant at the jonin level.

Masashi had made them proud by becoming a jonin at such a young age, earning the recognition of the clan.

This brought his parents joy, though it also gave rise to worries they kept to themselves.

In this timeline, he felt fortunate to have these moments. In the previous timeline, he hadn't even had the chance to see his parents.

And in his original life, he hadn't been able to properly care for them before his untimely departure.

Life may have differed across timelines, but his desire to cherish his parents remained unchanged.

They spent quality time together until his parents went to bed.

Masashi then returned to his room to rest.

The calm before the storm was best spent at home.

Starting tomorrow, the storm engulfing Konoha would last a long time, and as a jonin of the Uchiha clan, he would inevitably be drawn into it.

---

This winter in Konoha was bound to be especially harsh.

"They used our children... our own children!" A woman's cry pierced the cold morning air, echoing through the streets.

Behind her, a growing crowd of villagers moved toward the Hokage's office, their faces twisted with grief and rage.

Even before the season arrived, the chill had already set into the hearts of its ninja. The revelation that Orochimaru had been conducting experiments using cells from the First Hokage's remains caused an uproar.

After his failed escape, he was imprisoned in an ANBU facility.

His followers were in a state of panic. But while they merely lived in fear, Root was outright paralyzed.

There was no way to cover up their involvement. Laboratory after laboratory—every single one—was located in Root's base.

A lack of oversight? Impossible. That excuse wouldn't fool anyone.

More angry families of victims besieged the Hokage's office, and not a single ANBU dared confront the enraged mob. Even among the ANBU, there was a shared sense of outrage, as many of them came from ordinary families within Konoha. They empathized deeply with the victims.

"My son volunteered for a mission. A mission! And you turned him into..."

"Stand back, please. The Hokage is—" an ANBU ninja started.

"The Hokage? Where was he when this was happening?" A civilian father pushed forward.

The Sarutobi clan, usually known for their leadership in times of crisis, was stunned into silence.

Orochimaru, the beloved disciple of the Third Hokage. Danzō, former Hokage advisor and lifelong ally of Hiruzen, from the Shimura clan.

Faced with this scandal, all the Sarutobi clan members could muster was a collective cry of "What the hell?!"

For an entire month, chaos reigned in Konoha.

The Uchiha and Hyūga clans were tasked with sealing off the village. Other clans worked alongside jonin squads in rotating shifts to arrest suspects around the clock.

Anyone confirmed to have been involved in the scandal was immediately arrested. Danzō narrowly escaped imprisonment due to his meticulous preparation of false documents, which delayed solid proof of his involvement.

Nonetheless, he was placed under house arrest, forbidden to leave his residence.

Root members, both official and unofficial, were suspended and subjected to investigation, with the Yamanaka clan overseeing the process.

For a month, Yamanaka ninjas didn't dare step outside without a ration pill on hand, given their workload.

This "purge" resulted in hundreds of former Konoha ninjas being stripped of their status.

Most were executed outright; a small number were spared but left in fates worse than death. Some administrative ninjas were implicated for facilitating illegal funding.

They once distributed funds; now Konoha distributed their lives.

This wasn't merely an Orochimaru faction or Danzō faction. The perpetrators were extreme militarists and doves alike.

"Even the peace advocates?" a chunin whispered during an execution. "How could they..."

"Power corrupts in different ways," his senior responded. "Sometimes the self-righteous are the most dangerous."

But shock gave way to swift execution.

One by one, the pieces fell, leaving only Danzō and Root for the final reckoning.

Their unique position meant they had to be dealt with last, but their fate was inevitable. Once exposed, there was no room for negotiation—only an outright confrontation.

By then, the cold wave from the north had hit the Land of Fire, marking the arrival of winter. Yet the killing intent in Konoha was far colder.

After a month of arrests and trials, the initial uncertainty among the ninja clans had turned to rage. Danzō, though a ninja by birth, was now seen as the greatest threat by all.

The villagers and low-ranking ninjas remained furious. Until a prominent head rolled, their anger threatened to consume the entire village.

Thus, the public trial of Danzō and Root commenced.

For Danzō, this was a war he had never experienced—a battle for survival with no tools of manipulation at his disposal.

Under house arrest for a month, he was cut off entirely from the outside world, with ninja clans ensuring no room for maneuver.

When he was finally allowed to step outside, it was only to stand trial. He was the defendant. All his strategies amounted to nothing. Stripped of intelligence and resources, he was no different from an ordinary old man.

His power never equaled that of Hiruzen. The month of relentless investigation had eroded any lingering aura of invincibility.

Because his sins were undeniable.

When he stepped into the sunlight, a chill hit him deep in his bones. He recognized the sensation—it was the bitter taste of defeat.

Danzō had overestimated his influence and underestimated the power of unity among grassroots ninjas and villagers. He had also underestimated the ninja clans—a tiger, no matter how long chained, remained a tiger.

Danzō might have been the "root" of Konoha, but with the tree stripped bare and the lake frozen over, the root had rotted.

As he arrived at the Hokage's office, all eyes turned to him. There were no pleasantries, no pity, and no hesitation.

"We have gathered evidence spanning decades," Minato said. "The scope of these crimes extends beyond what any of us imagined."

Danzō's crimes had been fully documented. Evidence confirmed that he was the mastermind behind everything. Orochimaru was merely an accomplice.

Had the scandal remained within a small circle, he could have shifted blame onto Orochimaru.

But he faced Minato.

He shared one trait with Danzō: an unshakable resolve to achieve his goals once decided. Minato, however, lacked Danzō's ruthlessness, favoring decisiveness instead.

In their first and only confrontation, Minato prevailed.

From Masashi's perspective, this was the best outcome. A former Hokage advisor should die by the Hokage's judgment. Clean. Final. As it should be.

At the trial, Danzō sat in silence. He did not respond to the victims' families, even when confronted by ordinary villagers.

A mother stepped forward, holding a small shoe. "This was all we found of him," she cried. "Just this. Not even a body to bury."

Danzō's expression remained unchanged.

When his turn came to speak, he posed a single question to Minato. "Could you have done better than me?"

"The darkness you created would have destroyed Konoha." Minato's reply was resolute.

Danzō sneered and looked to Hiruzen.

The two old comrades exchanged a long, silent glance. Decades of shared history, battles, and diverging paths passed between them.

Nothing was said.

Minato rose from his seat. "I have reached my decision." His voice, though quiet, carried to every corner. The crowd fell silent, even the grieving parents stilling their sobs.

"Root will cease to exist," he paused. "Its structure will be dismantled, its members absorbed into ANBU where they will answer directly to the Hokage's office."

"Each member's fate will be decided based on their individual actions. There will be no blanket pardons."

His gaze finally settled on Danzō. "As for you... Your crimes against Konoha and its people demand death."

Some leaned forward, anticipating a swift execution.

"However, in acknowledgment of your years of service, you will be granted one final dignity." He straightened to his full height. "You may end your life by your own hand, in your home, as a ninja of Konoha."

The silence that followed was absolute. Danzō's face remained impassive.

"This is my verdict." Minato's tone hardened. "It is final."

A cleaner death than he deserves, Yaku thought. But perhaps that's what makes us different from him.

Danzō's death was the only way to restore peace to Konoha. His sole consolation was the chance to end things himself.

---

That night, Hiruzen, accompanied by ANBU, brought a jug of sake to Danzō's heavily monitored home.

"Sandaime-sama, we'll be right outside," an ANBU whispered.

Inside, the room was sparse, lit only by a single lamp. Danzō sat in traditional clothing. The bandages on his right eye and arm had been removed—there was no need for secrets anymore.

"One last drink?" Hiruzen's voice was steady as he poured sake for both of them.

Danzō took the cup, studying the clear liquid. "After all these years, you still bring the cheap stuff."

They drank in silence, two old shinobi who had walked different paths for the same village.

The sake burned, but neither showed it.

"Hiruzen." Danzō's voice was quieter now. "The world isn't as kind as you believe it to be."

"And not as dark as you feared, old friend."

How many nights did we spend like this, planning Konoha's future? Hiruzen watched his oldest friend's face in the lamplight.

Danzō's hand moved to his tanto, placed carefully beside him. His grip tightened on the handle as he looked at his oldest friend, his only friend. "Perhaps. But remember—there will always be those who must walk in shadows so others can stay in the light."

"Watch the borders to the north. When spring comes..."

He didn't finish. In one swift motion, he drove the blade deep into his abdomen, from left to right. A sharp grunt escaped his lips—not from pain, but from the force of the thrust. Blood immediately soaked through his white clothing.

"For Konoha," he gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes fixed on Hiruzen as he pulled the blade sideways.

Not a scream, not a whimper—only a final, shuddering breath as he maintained perfect seiza position until the very end.

His body slumped forward, the tanto still gripped in his hand. Even in death, his face remained composed, at peace with his chosen end.

Hiruzen sat there until dawn, keeping vigil over the body of a man who had loved Konoha too much, in all the wrong ways.

By dawn, he emerged to announce the news. "Danzō has taken his own life."

---

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