Chapter 11 - Danzo’s Wishful Thinking

Chapter 11 - Danzo's Wishful Thinking

"You've been training with Minato this whole time?"

Sarutobi Hiruzen's brow furrowed slightly as he regarded the young Kakashi standing before him. The boy's expression remained calm and composed, showing no sign of deceit. Still, as a leader who had spent decades navigating the complexities of both war and politics, Sarutobi knew better than to rely solely on face value. With a subtle flick of his fingers, an Anbu operative materialized at his side.

"Summon Jonin Minato immediately," Sarutobi ordered, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Understood."

Without hesitation, the masked shinobi vanished, disappearing in a blur of movement.

It didn't take long before two Anbu operatives returned, this time accompanied by Namikaze Minato himself. The golden-haired Jonin stood tall, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room before settling on the Hokage.

Sarutobi wasted no time and began cross-examining Kakashi's claim. He and Minato carefully went through the details, occasionally pausing to question the young prodigy about specific moments during their supposed training session. Every answer lined up perfectly, leaving no room for doubt.

Eventually, the truth became clear—Kakashi had indeed spent the entire afternoon under Minato's supervision. There was no possible way he could have been responsible for the slaying of the Mist Ninja scout.

Sarutobi let out a quiet hum, leaning back slightly in his chair as his fingers tapped rhythmically against his pipe. If Kakashi wasn't the one responsible, then who was? His mind combed through the list of potential candidates within the village. There were certainly many skilled shinobi, but few possessed the sheer precision and lethality required to dispatch a trained Chunin in a single stroke.

With a final nod, he dismissed the boy.

"Alright, Kakashi, you may go now."

"Yes, Lord Hokage," Kakashi responded without hesitation before swiftly leaving the office.

As soon as the young shinobi was gone, Sarutobi fell into a moment of deep contemplation. He took a slow drag from his pipe, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that curled lazily into the air. His mind raced through the possibilities.

The idea that Hatake Kazane might be responsible never even crossed his thoughts. He had always paid close attention to the son of the late Hatake Sakumo, yet Kazane's reputation as a "dead last" had been so deeply ingrained in the minds of others that even Sarutobi himself subconsciously overlooked him.

No one had ever taken the boy's constant habit of carrying three wooden swords seriously.

As Sarutobi mulled over the mystery, the doors to his office suddenly swung open.

Shimura Danzo strode in with his usual calculated confidence, his single visible eye narrowing slightly as he addressed the Hokage.

"Sarutobi, hand Kakashi over to me. I will train him into a shinobi greater than Sakumo ever was."

Sarutobi's grip on his pipe tightened ever so slightly. He took a slow, deliberate inhale before exhaling once more, his gaze meeting Danzo's with an unreadable expression.

"You want to mold Sakumo's child into a heartless weapon of war," he stated, his voice carrying a cold finality. "I absolutely refuse."

Danzo's face remained impassive, but Sarutobi had known him long enough to recognize the subtle tension in his posture—the flicker of frustration behind his neutral facade.

"If that's all you came for," Sarutobi continued, his tone growing firmer, "then you can leave now."

A heavy silence settled between them. Danzo did not move at first, his sharp gaze searching Sarutobi's expression, as if measuring how resolute he truly was.

Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose and took a step back.

"No," Danzo said after a moment, "I merely brought it up in passing." His tone was light, almost dismissive, but both men knew better. "My main reason for coming here is to discuss your stance on the Mist Ninja situation. Will we be preparing for war, or...?"

Sarutobi turned away from Danzo and walked toward the window, gazing out at the sprawling village below. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the rooftops of Konoha. He took another slow puff from his pipe, allowing the smoke to linger in the air before speaking.

"It's time we remind them who they're dealing with," he murmured. "They have gone too far." His voice, though quiet, carried an undeniable weight. "I will leave this matter in your hands."

At this point in his life, Sarutobi was still the legendary "Shinobi no Kami"—the God of Shinobi. He was not yet the hesitant and weary elder he would one day become. His enemies would do well to remember that.

Danzo gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. "Understood."

As he turned to leave, he paused briefly at the threshold. Without looking back, he spoke once more.

"Sarutobi, don't let that boy's talent go to waste."

Then, without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the dimly lit corridors beyond.

Sarutobi remained still, watching the empty space where Danzo had stood moments before. He had always known that his old comrade viewed the Hatake brothers as pieces on his ever-expanding chessboard.

To Danzo, Hatake Kazane was of little consequence—a manageable variable. But Kakashi? Kakashi was a threat. A threat that, if left unchecked, could one day become an obstacle on Danzo's path to power.

And Danzo was not a man who left obstacles standing.

Sarutobi turned back toward his desk, his thoughts drifting to the past.

Sakumo's death had left an undeniable void within Konoha. Sarutobi had not intended for things to spiral so drastically. When he had criticized Sakumo's failed mission, his goal had never been to push the man to such despair. If anything, he had hoped to subtly maneuver him into a position where he could be controlled—a weakened yet still formidable asset.

But Sakumo had not played the role Sarutobi expected. Instead, he had made the irreversible choice to take his own life.

Sarutobi sighed, staring into the distance as if searching for answers in the clouds.

"Sakumo... where was your strong will as a warrior?"

The growing tensions with the other villages were not solely because of the Mist's aggression. In truth, Konoha's enemies had been watching closely ever since the White Fang's death, testing the waters, searching for weaknesses.

And they had found them.

Among Sakumo's children, Kakashi had undoubtedly inherited his father's raw talent, his natural genius evident in everything he did. Sarutobi knew that if nurtured correctly, the boy could one day become a shinobi who rivaled even his legendary father.

But he also knew that if he wasn't careful, Danzo would sink his claws into the boy.

And that was something Sarutobi would never allow.

He took another deep inhale of his pipe, his mind already moving ahead, strategizing the next steps.

Konoha would need to be ready for what was to come.

And so would he.

---

**Nightfall—Hatake Residence**

"One thousand three hundred fifty-one… one thousand three hundred fifty-two…"

"Three thousand three hundred fifty-one… three thousand three hundred fifty-two…"

The rhythmic sound of a blade slicing through the air blended with the whispering night breeze. Moonlight bathed the secluded Hatake residence, casting long shadows over the courtyard. The cool wind should have provided relief, but Hatake Kazane's body radiated heat, his muscles taut with exertion.

Beads of sweat traced down his bare torso, dripping onto the ground as he continued swinging his sword in perfect form. His arms, long accustomed to the strain, moved fluidly, each strike as precise and powerful as the last.

The training weights strapped to his limbs had long since been upgraded from fifty kilograms to one hundred, yet they no longer hindered his movements in the slightest.

Still, he did not stop.

His breathing was steady, controlled.

A swordsman's strength was not measured by grand techniques or flashy moves, but by the ability to strike down his enemies in a single motion. If his blade wavered even slightly, it could mean the difference between life and death in the battlefield that was this ninja world.

Then, suddenly—

A familiar sound echoed in his mind.

**Ding!**

"Congratulations, Host! You have completed this month's goal: Ten thousand sword swings per day. Achievement unlocked—'I Am a Superhuman.' Reward: Two-Sword Style Iai—Rashomon!"

Kazane's breathing did not falter, nor did his stance shift. He simply exhaled softly.

"System, display my status screen."

As the glowing text materialized in his vision, his expression remained indifferent.

After all, no matter how advanced a technique was, its true value lay in the wielder. A skilled warrior could split mountains and carve through seas with a single, effortless strike. A weakling, no matter how refined their form, could never land a decisive blow.

---

**Status**

Host: Hatake Kazane

Gender: Male

Occupation: Swordsman

Strength: Chunin

**Sword Techniques:**

- No-Sword Style True Blade—"Barehanded Sword Catch"

- One-Sword Style Iai—"Death: Lion's Song"

- One-Sword Style—"Thirty-Six Troubles Wind" (Locked)

- Two-Sword Style Iai—"Rashomon"

- Three-Sword Style—"Oni Giri"

- Three-Sword Style—"Tiger Hunt"

- Three-Sword Style Ultimate Move—"Sanzen Sekai"

**Taijutsu:**

- Eight Gates (Third Gate Open)

**Equipment:**

- Wado Ichimonji

- Yubashiri

- Zoro's Green Bandana

- Zoro's Training Manual

---

Kazane studied the screen for a moment before dismissing it from his mind.

"I've barely gained enough strength to protect myself in this brutal ninja world," he murmured, closing his eyes briefly. "But to the truly powerful, I am still an insect."

His system's constant reminders of his insignificance no longer fazed him. He had accepted the reality long ago—no matter how strong he became, there would always be monsters lurking in the shadows, beings far beyond the reach of ordinary warriors.

The Third Ninja War was looming, and when it arrived, it would consume everything in its wake.

But he was ready.

He would not be helpless when the flames of war reached his doorstep.

From the entrance, the soft creak of a door opening reached Kazane's ears. Though he did not turn to look, he instantly recognized the familiar presence stepping inside.

Only one other person lived in this house now.

Kakashi.

"Brother," Kakashi's voice was calm but carried a trace of curiosity. "The Mist Ninja Chunin who died in the back mountains today… was that your doing?"

He did not bother with small talk, his sharp instincts already pointing him toward the truth. Ever since he was a child, he had seen his brother endlessly replacing the wooden training dummies in their home, carving deep gashes into them with his relentless practice.

Kazane sheathed his sword with a single, smooth motion before responding casually, "Yeah, I killed him. So it really was a Mist Ninja?"

Kakashi paused for a moment.

His brother hadn't even reacted to the fact that the scout had been a trained Chunin—he was only interested in confirming whether the man had been an enemy.

His lack of concern was almost unsettling.

"Brother… just how strong are you?" Kakashi finally asked. "That was a Mist Ninja Chunin. I'm not even sure if I could have taken him down."

Kazane let out a small chuckle at his younger brother's serious expression.

"That level of ninja can really be called a Chunin?" he remarked, shaking his head slightly.

Even so, he decided to give Kakashi a proper answer.

"If it were you, I'm sure you could have slain him too, as for my strength? I don't really know. Swordsmanship and ninjutsu are different. If I land a strike, my opponent dies, simple as that. But against a Chunin of that level, I'm definitely stronger."

There was no arrogance in his voice—just a simple statement of fact.

Kakashi remained silent, his mind processing his brother's words.

The Third Ninja War was approaching. He had always worried that Kazane, despite his training, might not be able to survive the brutal reality of the battlefield. But now, after witnessing his brother's composure and confidence, he realized something.

Kazane had already stepped into a different realm.

For the first time, Kakashi felt a weight pressing against his chest—an urgent pressure, an unspoken challenge.

If he wasn't careful, his brother would surpass him completely.

And once left behind, there might be no catching up.