OBD: Chapter Thirty-Four: Converging Evils

Chapter Thirty-Four: Converging Evils

The room was silent, save for the soft scratching of Danzo Shimura’s pen against paper. The reports before him painted a grim picture: Probes here, skirmishes there—small incursions that revealed unsettling flaws in their defences. The enemy’s foothold in captured territories was tightening, and while the frontline appeared tame for what was an outright war between two great villages, intelligence suspects a build-up of forces just beyond the horizon.

Danzo’s single visible eye, cold and calculating, traced the figures and maps spread across the table. He tapped a bony finger against the wood as if the act alone might summon a solution from the chaotic morass of intelligence. He exhaled through his nose, his visible eye narrowing as he flipped to the next report. A soft, almost imperceptible shift in the air drew his attention, subtle but unmistakable.

Danzo froze.

His hand drifted slowly to the kunai hidden beneath the desk, the polished wood cool against his palm. The silence thickened. Then, as if conjured by the very tension in the air, a voice cut through the stillness.

“You seem troubled, Danzo.”

Danzo’s head snapped toward the source, his single eye locking onto the figure emerging from the shadows. The tiger-striped mask was the first thing he noticed, the crimson glow of the Sharingan behind it the second. His grip tightened instinctively on the kunai. The Uchiha. So, the strike had come. His heart thudded once, hard, but he betrayed no fear.

“You’ve made a mistake,” he said coldly, his voice carrying the authority of the office he occupied. “If you think assassinating me will end this, you’re gravely—”

The figure raised a gloved hand, a gesture as calm as it was dismissive. “Relax,” he said, his tone even, tinged with faint amusement. “If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be speaking.”

Danzo’s eye narrowed. He didn’t release the kunai, though his grip eased slightly. “And who are you, then, if not an assassin?”

“I represent the Akatsuki,” the figure replied. He stepped closer, the Sharingan glinting ominously in the low light. “A name I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Danzo’s suspicion deepened, though he kept his expression neutral. The Akatsuki. He couldn’t claim not to be familiar with them. After failing to see them wiped out, he had long ignored them, dismissing them as irrelevant to Konoha’s internal matters. That might have been a mistake.

“You’ve bypassed my ANBU,” Danzo said, his voice measured. “You’ve flaunted your Sharingan to my face. And now you claim to represent a group that has no stake in Konoha’s affairs. Why should I entertain this farce?”

The figure tilted his head slightly, as if studying Danzo’s reaction. “Because I come with an offer. One I suspect you’ll find very interesting.”

Danzo leaned back in his chair, his eye narrowing further. “An offer?”

“Yes,” the figure said, his voice smooth, deliberate. “We can assist you with your… Uchiha problem.”

The words hung in the air, their weight settling like a stone in Danzo’s chest. His grip on the kunai tightened again, though he remained outwardly calm. “And what, exactly, would this assistance entail?”

The figure chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the room. “Simple. The Akatsuki has the means, the manpower, and the expertise to eliminate key figures of this troublesome clan. Discreetly, of course. No mess, no loose ends.”

Danzo’s brow furrowed. “And your price?”

The figure stepped closer, his presence almost oppressive, the Sharingan unwavering in its focus. “The nine-tails.”

The demand landed like a hammer. Danzo’s lips tightened, and his eye flicked briefly to the sealed reports on his desk. “Out of the question,” he said firmly. 

The figure shrugged, as if the response had been anticipated. “Then perhaps the eight-tails instead. I know you have it.”

Danzo’s expression remained impassive, though his mind churned. The eight-tails—a significant concession, but one he could justify if it meant neutralising the threat Fugaku posed. As for the question of whether or not they can accomplish what was promised, Danzo still clearly remembered why his ploy to see them erased failed in the first place. “And?” he asked, his tone clipped, knowing fully well the demands hadn’t ended.

“Half the Sharingan harvested during the assault,” the figure replied, his voice almost casual. “And a modest fee. Let’s say… a nine hundred million ryo. Consider it compensation for our services.”

Danzo’s knuckles whitened beneath the desk, though he forced himself to appear composed. “You make bold demands.”

The figure’s head tilted slightly again, the gesture almost mocking. “I make fair demands. Surely you realise the value of what we offer.”

Danzo leaned forward, his gaze hard. “And if I refuse?”

The figure chuckled again, softer this time. “Then the Uchiha continue to fester under your watch, and your position becomes… untenable. Surely, you’ve seen what they can accomplish first-hand. This isn’t a threat, Danzo. It’s an inevitability. We’re offering you control over how it happens.”

The room fell silent. Danzo’s mind raced, weighing the risks and benefits. The Sharingan—their potential loss stung, since, in truth, he intended to harvest the eyes for his own purposes. The Ryo was insignificant in the grander scheme. The eight-tails, though a steep price, was not entirely out of reach.

“Very well,” he said, at last, his voice cold. “The eight-tails. Half the Sharingan. And the fee. But if you fail…” He let the threat hang, his tone a blade unsheathed.

The figure inclined his head. “The Akatsuki doesn’t fail.”

He turned, his movements fluid, as though the shadows themselves shifted to accommodate him.

“Wait,” Danzo said, halting him mid-step. “The Lightning Daimyo. Was it you who orchestrated his assassination?”

The figure paused, glancing over his shoulder. The Sharingan glinted ominously. “And if it was?”

Danzo’s jaw tightened. “The lone survivor claimed it was a Uchiha. At the time, I believed it to be a ploy by the clan. But now… seeing you here…”

The figure chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “And what of you, Danzo? Tell me—did you kill the Third Hokage?”

Danzo’s lips thinned into a grim line. His silence spoke volumes.

The figure laughed again, softer this time, as though sharing a private joke. 

“It seems we both have our secrets.”

***

Obito moved through the shadows, the streets blurred in his wake as though they too wished to remain unnoticed. The Hokage’s office was behind him now, its stark silhouette fading into the distance as he made his way toward the meeting point.

There, beneath the ancient oak, a figure emerged. Zetsu's pale face appeared from the trunk of a tree with unsettling ease, his form twisting and flowing, unfurling like a budding leave.

"You've spoken with the old fool," Zetsu noted. There was no urgency in his voice, no real expectation. He simply stated what was known.

"Danzo will be useful," Obito replied. His voice was low, almost detached. He turned slowly to face the humanoid then. “Inform Nagato. An opportunity to seize two tailed beasts just presented itself. Anyone close enough to be of use is to drop all current missions. I want them here, in Konoha, as soon as possible. This matter must be dealt with while we still have the advantage."

Zetsu’s mouth twitched, but he made no comment, only nodding. 

“It is done.”