156-160

Chapter 176: Progress  

The days that followed settled into an eerie calm.  

By day, she used Root’s resources to research advanced methods for evolving the Sharingan. By night, she siphoned chakra from the Hashirama Tree to fuel her main body’s development of a new jutsu.  

The Sharingan’s evolution remained a dead end. Without Uchiha test subjects, she couldn’t decipher the structure of the special chakra their brains produced. Her only option was brute-forcing it with massive amounts of life energy.  

Naturally, the experiment failed.  

The ocean-like vitality of the Hashirama Tree was simply too vast for the Sharingan to absorb. The gap in scale was insurmountable.  

No matter how compatible their attributes were, an ant couldn’t devour an elephant.  

An ordinary three-tomoe Sharingan couldn’t suppress that overwhelming power, let alone absorb and evolve from it. If she hadn’t acted quickly, the three-tomoe eyes grafted onto the flesh would’ve been corroded by the Hashirama cells and rendered useless.  

To upgrade a pair of three-tomoe Sharingan into Mangekyō, only a monster like Naruto stood a chance.  

But even if she succeeded, Naruto would likely lose thirty years of his lifespan in the process. At that point, mastering Sage Mode would be far more cost-effective than chasing the Mangekyō.  

Danzo’s dream of a Mangekyō army was doomed to fail.  

Not that Hikari cared.  

An investor’s shattered dreams meant nothing to her—a mere employee. She had no intention of following the Sharingan’s path to the Mangekyō or the Rinnegan anyway.  

After seeing how easily Obito’s Kamui was countered, forcing him to flee like a beaten dog, she’d learned her lesson.  

The more rigid a technique, the easier it is to exploit.  

Once its secrets were uncovered, even the most esoteric dōjutsu became laughably clumsy.  

Rather than relying on mysterious eye techniques, she preferred dissecting the knowledge behind them—then recreating them in her own way.  

Aside from researching the Sharingan’s evolution, she’d also been deconstructing the Kotoamatsukami chakra imprinted in her mind, attempting to replicate it using a regular three-tomoe Sharingan.  

In theory, if Izanagi could be replicated, Kotoamatsukami shouldn’t be impossible. But reality proved far more complicated.  

The mechanics of Kotoamatsukami were uniquely intricate. Even with the Byakugan’s hyper-analytical vision, she’d only grasped the basics of its activation sequence.  

Key Findings:  

1. Left and Right Eyes Had Different Effects.  

1. The left eye (in Itachi’s possession) could permanently alter will.  

1. Danzo’s right eye only allowed temporary modifications—reversible, with a much shorter cooldown (nowhere near the decade-long wait). 

But that didn’t mean Danzo’s version was weaker.  

Permanent Kotoamatsukami had a cripplingly long cooldown—usable maybe twice in a lifetime. Danzo’s could be spammed, tweaking subconscious commands in real time. Far more flexible.  

After extensive analysis, Hikari understood the core mechanism:  

Kotoamatsukami essentially implanted a direct command into the target’s subconscious via ocular chakra. The victim remained unaware of the command—or even that they’d been manipulated—but their thoughts and actions would naturally align with the implanted will.  

Example: 

If Itachi used Kotoamatsukami on Sasuke with the command "Protect Konoha," Sasuke wouldn’t realize he’d been influenced. Instead, he’d spontaneously recall Naruto, Sakura, and Konoha’s virtues, genuinely believing he had chosen to defend the village.  

Even if the genjutsu broke, those thoughts would linger—because they felt like his own. There was still a chance he’d uphold the command voluntarily.  

This technique involved soul manipulation, conscious/subconscious layers, and other esoteric concepts beyond conventional ninjutsu. Current Yin-release theories couldn’t fully explain its logic.  

If she ever cracked it, she could name these principles herself—pioneering a new field of soul and mind techniques. A breakthrough rivaling Orochimaru’s "Yang-to-Yin Conversion" hypothesis.  

For now, Kotoamatsukami replication remained distant. Using a three-tomoe to cast it was already a pipe dream, let alone recreating it with raw chakra. The difficulty matched reversing the Eight Gates.  

Compared to her daytime research, nights were monotonous—just Samehada gorging on chakra while she acted as a conduit, relaying energy to her main body and monitoring the Reverse Eight Gates project.  

According to her main body, progress was alarmingly smooth. Too exhausted to explain the technical hurdles, it only demanded uninterrupted chakra transfers.  

This excited Hikari. She practically lived in the basement now, forcing Samehada to drain the tree daily.  

The poor sword had no rest—eat, digest, transfer, repeat. The Hashirama cells’ ultra-stable chakra was like chewing sawdust. If not for their decent taste, it would’ve quit long ago.  

Not entirely its fault.  

Samehada loved pure chakra—like raw energy from chakra cores or tailed beasts. Hikari’s blend was a gourmet feast:  

• Her own chakra → Fresh greens (light, clean).  

• Isobu’s (Three-Tails) chakra → Comfort food (familiar, savory).  

• Kurama’s (Nine-Tails) chakra → Luxury delicacy (rich, potent). 

After this treatment, Samehada’s standards had skyrocketed. Even if the Three-Tails itself showed up, it wouldn’t compare to a finger’s worth of Hikari’s chakra.  

In short—it was hers now. Betrayal was off the table.  

Samehada could absorb nature-transformed chakra, but digestion was slower and riskier. Its preferences:  

• Best: Water (native to Isobu), Wind (loose structure, easy to break down).  

• Okay: Yin/Yang (digestible, but no defense against their effects).  

• Worst: Fire/Lightning (defenseless, hated them).  

• Absolute trash: Earth (too dense, "dry and tasteless"). 

During the Thunderclap Mountain battle, Orochimaru’s High-Pressure Water Gun (Water + Wind) was perfect for Samehada—swallowed effortlessly. Ironically, that was how it discovered Hikari’s chakra’s flavor, sealing its loyalty.  

Had she used Fire or Lightning instead, Samehada might’ve hesitated. Luck or fate?  

Hikari wasn’t cruel. To prevent Samehada from developing eating disorders, she rewarded it with her own chakra after each Hashirama-cell feast. Motivated by treats, it worked diligently.  

Two weeks passed in this routine.  

She only returned to the Hatake compound once—finding Might Guy and Kakashi still on missions—before grabbing spare clothes and moving permanently into Root’s base.  

The Reverse Eight Gates project had hit a critical phase. She extended her leave from the Academy and Hiruzen, citing "a breakthrough in jutsu research" that required isolation.  

• Academy: Iruka approved instantly, even urging her to "rest properly." (Cue jealous glares from Naruto and Shikamaru.)  

• Hiruzen: Initially pleased, his mood soured at "more jutsu development." Still, he relented with a wave. 

She understood his concern. After Orochimaru, he feared she’d stray down the same dark path.  

He wasn’t wrong.  

Orochimaru’s Immortality Via Body-Stealing preserved the soul by hijacking flesh. Her Reverse Eight Gates achieved physical immortality by devouring life force.  

Two sides of the same coin—both selfish, both taboo in Hiruzen’s outdated worldview.  

But his disapproval meant nothing. The Reverse Eight Gates was her path to godhood. No one would stop her—not even her teacher.  

The more time she spent with Hiruzen, the clearer Orochimaru’s (and even Danzo’s) grievances became.  

His love for Konoha was real. His stubbornness was too.  

Countless powerful techniques sat gathering dust in sealed scrolls. Instead of researching Hashirama’s cells, why not just summon Hashirama himself?  

If Tobirama were revived via Edo Tensei, he wouldn’t even need to fight—just develop new jutsu. Konoha’s forbidden scrolls could’ve doubled in size by now.  

Was it pride? Shortsightedness?  

Uninterested in Hiruzen’s hang-ups, Hikari returned to Root.  

She practically lived in the basement now. Surprisingly, Chiyuki visited even more often—sometimes murmuring to the tree, other times sleeping against the glass until dawn.  

They didn’t disturb each other. Over time, an unspoken rhythm developed. Occasionally, they’d chat.  

When insomnia struck, Chiyuki shared clan secrets—stories no one else had heard in decades.  

In return, Hikari (omitting the Byakugan) recounted her past—the Kaguya massacre, her revenge, her escape.  

• Kaguya’s fall made Chiyuki’s eyes dim with shared grief.  

• Fighting Kirigakure ANBU had her clenching her fists in tension.  

• Reaching Konoha finally made her relax. 

As they grew closer, Chiyuki’s stories grew darker—like decades of loneliness were finally spilling out.  

• The First and Second Hokages’ deaths crippling the Senju.  

• War thinning their ranks further.  

• Desperate attempts to reclaim Hashirama’s power backfiring horribly.  

• The clan disbanding to preserve dignity, fading into obscurity. 

Then—the bombshell.  

"The Fourth Hokage—Minato Namikaze—was half-Senju!?"  

Hikari nearly fell off the glass pillar, Samehada wobbling in her grip.  

"Technically, yes. I knew his mother. Held him as a baby."  

Chiyuki—looking no older than thirty—dropped this casually, as if discussing the weather.  

Hikari barely swallowed her next question ("How old are you!?"). With Senju-Uzumaki vitality, Chiyuki might rival Tsunade in age.  

**"But he was called a 'prodigy from nowhere'…"  

The manga’s narrative had blinded her. If even Minato had elite bloodlines, the world was bleaker than she thought.  

Chiyuki gave her a look.  

"Reaching Kage-level without ample chakra is impossible. You either:  

1. Develop chakra-boosting Yin/Yang secrets (time-consuming).  

1. Create a Kekkei Genkai (rare luck).  

1. Inherit it from your parents. 

Minato had Hokage-tier strength before graduating the Academy. How could he be a 'nobody'?"  

Hikari froze.  

The deeper she delved into ninjutsu, the clearer the insurmountable gap between elites and commoners became.  

With Hyūga-Kaguya heritage, her chakra already dwarfed peers—yet barely reached special jōnin levels. Without tailed-beast chakra, she’d have struggled to match Minato—if at all.  

• Might Guy burned life force via the Eight Gates.  

• Orochimaru used human experiments and modifications.  

• Jiraiya had natural talent + Mount Myōboku’s training. 

So how did Minato, with no bloodline or secret arts, spam the Second’s Flying Thunder God like it was basic shunshin?  

Answer: He wasn’t a nobody.  

If Minato had partial Senju heritage, everything made sense:  

• Incomplete Sage Body → Massive chakra reserves.  

• Tsunade’s teammate (Jiraiya) as his teacher → Access to elite techniques.  

• Mastering Flying Thunder God effortlessly → Tobirama’s legacy.  

• Marrying Kushina (Uzumaki) → Jinchūriki compatibility.  

• Instant Sage Mode → Myōboku’s favor. 

And let’s not forget Naruto—a Senju-Uzumaki hybrid with bottomless chakra.  

"So… Orochimaru losing the Fourth Hokage election…"  

"Partly political, but not as sinister as you think."  

Chiyuki read her thoughts instantly. After weeks together, she no longer saw Hikari as a child.  

"Kekkei Genkai require luck. Yin/Yang arts require human experimentation (how all secret clans began).  

Orochimaru needed cruelty to grow stronger. Minato just had to act kind to win hearts.  

That’s why he lost."  

Chapter 177: Surgery by the Blind (Part 2)  

Life had settled into a quiet, repetitive rhythm.  

Before she knew it, Hikari’s main body had been in seclusion for a full month. There had been a stretch where exhaustion forced her to rest for several days, cutting down her shadow clones by nearly half. Even so, the accumulated time spent in research still amounted to over two years.  

Of course, shadow clones weren’t time chambers. The "two years" was just a mathematical calculation—the actual training efficiency was likely halved. But that still meant a solid year of work.  

The fact that Reverse Eight Gates still wasn’t complete after all this time meant a new obstacle had emerged.  

The yang-shell constructed from ocular power could already filter out the impurities in external life force. The remaining issue? Efficiency.  

If the filter was too strong, it blocked most of the life force, leaving only a trickle. If it was too weak, impurities slipped through, risking the main body’s safety.  

Hikari’s ideal version of Reverse Eight Gates was a perfect balance—filtering only the impurities while letting pure life force flow freely. But achieving that required time and experimentation.  

Most human experiments in jutsu development weren’t conducted from the start—they were saved for the final stages, as a safety check.  

Which meant…  

The creatures of the Forest of Death had suffered greatly. Hikari had been extracting life force from one animal, filtering it, and transferring it to another, trying to refine the perfect structure.  

And now, she was one step away.  

Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. Reverse Eight Gates would finally be complete.  

Hearing the good news from her main body, the yang-release clone finally relaxed a little.  

She knew impatience wouldn’t help, but after so long without progress, anxiety had been inevitable.  

Lately, she’d been stomping through Root’s halls with a murderous aura, scaring the doctors and nurses into silence. Rumors of her "Corpse-Cutting Maniac" exploits at Thunder Drum Mountain had spread, and one unlucky soul who dared say it to her face had been dismembered into five pieces before being stitched back together with medical ninjutsu.  

Strangely enough, the stress relief had been immense.  

The downside?  

THUD. THUD. THUD.  

The heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. Masked Root agents froze, bowing their heads until she passed.  

Hikari, Samehada resting on her shoulder, sighed as she reached the experimental division.  

Ever since that doctor had been "rearranged," everyone treated her like a walking massacre. Even the guards had picked up the habit.  

"I’m not a psychopath!"  

Not that she could explain—no one dared spread rumors where she could hear them.  

CREAK—  

She pushed open the door.  

A gust of cold air soothed her irritation—until she spotted Danzō, Muta, and Chihaya Tōru standing in the center of the room.  

The entire division was eerily quiet. Doctors and nurses huddled in their workstations, while Root operatives stood guard at regular intervals.  

What’s going on?  

Did Danzō come to demand results on the Sharingan evolution?  

Her main body was in a critical phase. She hadn’t even touched the Kotoamatsukami research, let alone the Sharingan project.  

Danzō and Chihaya Tōru were deep in discussion, but Muta sensed her chakra and gave a slight nod.  

She returned it.  

She still didn’t know why Muta had turned against Danzō, but an enemy’s enemy was a friend. Sooner or later, she’d clash with Danzō—having allies would help.  

She was about to slip past them to the basement when—  

"Wait, Hikari."  

Chihaya Tōru’s eyes lit up. "Lord Danzō needs to speak with you."  

Suppressing a groan, Hikari turned. "The Sharingan evolution research hasn’t yielded results yet. More time is needed."  

"Not about that."  

Chihaya subtly winked behind Danzō’s back.  

As the only one who understood what Hikari was actually doing, he knew she hadn’t touched the Sharingan project.  

And why hadn’t he ratted her out?  

Because neither had he.  

The "Sharingan evolution" was just a cover for their real research—Chihaya was trying to fuse Hashirama’s cells with the Sharingan to halt cellular decay.  

Danzō’s dream of a Mangekyō army?  

A pipe dream.  

But neither of them would say that.  

"Then what is it?"  

Danzō’s lone eye gleamed with rare approval.  

Talent. Brilliance. Ruthlessness. And relentless effort.  

According to Muta’s reports, Hikari had been obsessively researching the Sharingan evolution—skipping sleep, skipping meals, even sleeping in the lab.  

At first, he’d been skeptical.  

So he’d cross-checked with Chihaya Tōru and Tsubaki—both medical experts.  

Their answers?  

Different, but consistent.  

Muta praised her dedication and noted her chakra growth.  

Chihaya spouted technical jargon and asked for more test subjects.  

Tsubaki confirmed she was working through the night.  

That sealed it.  

Three trusted veterans, all confirming the same thing—Hikari was fully committed to his cause.  

"What’s the matter?"  

Hikari eyed Danzō’s unusually bright emotional aura. Was there good news she didn’t know about?  

Danzō, in high spirits, ignored her blunt tone.  

"Yesterday, the Sharingan on Orochimaru’s arm were all evolved to three tomoe. The suppression effect on Hashirama’s cells is stable. The transplant can proceed."  

Hikari blinked.  

A month for ten eyes?  

Normally, evolving a two-tomoe to three took two to three hours. Even accounting for all ten, three days should’ve been enough.  

She glanced at Chihaya, who subtly blinked—as if dust had gotten in his eye.  

"Don’t say anything. I didn’t mention you."  

Hikari suppressed a smirk.  

Danzō, oblivious, continued.  

"I’ve decided to proceed with the transplant. You will be the lead surgeon."  

"Me?!"  

Chihaya stepped in.  

"Your surgical skills surpass mine. Your chakra control is unmatched. For a procedure this delicate, you’re the best choice."  

Hikari studied Danzō’s expression—thinly veiled trust, buried under layers of suspicion.  

Letting her operate on him was a test.  

A show of faith—or a trap.  

Refuse, and she’d reveal her disloyalty.  

Accept, and she’d have his life in her hands—with every Root agent ready to kill her if she slipped.  

"...Fine."  

Danzō smiled. "No need to be nervous. Chihaya says your medical skills rival Tsunade’s. Just do your best."  

Translation: "Screw up, and you’re dead."  

Typical Danzō.  

The surgical team arrived, doors swinging open.  

Three green-gowned nurses stepped out—one flinching when she saw Hikari.  

It was the same nurse who’d mistaken her for a test subject months ago.  

Life’s first major surgery: limb reattachment.  

Memorable.  

Danzō ignored them, striding into the operating room without hesitation.  

After years of experiments, countless resources spent—he could finally grasp that power.  

The doors sealed behind them.  

BEEP.  

The "SURGERY IN PROGRESS" light flickered on.  

Outside, guards stood ready. Inside, shadows stretched across the walls—two pairs of spinning tomoe monitoring every chakra fluctuation.  

Muta stood by, holding Danzō’s cane, watching as the old man’s bandages were unwrapped—revealing charred, withered flesh.  

Scars from an ambush long ago.  

"Cut here."  

Hikari marked the incision line. Chihaya handed her the scalpel.  

They were about to begin when—  

"Wait."  

Danzō sat up.  

"Administer anesthesia first."  

Chihaya frowned. "Anesthesia affects the results."  

"Administer it."  

Hikari and Chihaya exchanged a glance.  

Even the darkest schemers feared pain.  

Chapter 178: Kill Danzo!  

The Operation Begins 

A red light flickered on the operating room door.  

The high-stakes transplant surgery was underway.  

Standing over the operating table, Hikari carefully cut through Danzo’s arm with surgical scissors. The old war hawk lay groggy from anesthesia, his usual sharp gaze dulled.  

How ironic.  

This arm—the one she had retrieved from Raijin Mountain—was now being grafted onto Danzo by her own hands. Even the three-tomoe Sharingan embedded in it had evolved using her research.  

Had she not intervened at Raijin Mountain:  

• Aburame Ryōma and his team would’ve died there.  

• Orochimaru would’ve abandoned the mysterious orb, escaping with the arm via reverse summoning.  

• Obito Uchiha would’ve claimed a cache of Sharingan, storing them in his underground hideout.  

• Danzo would’ve eventually reacquired the arm through another deal with Orochimaru. 

Her existence had altered many outcomes—yet Danzo still obtained this arm. As if fate itself had decreed it.  

Snip. Snip.  

She peeled back the skin, exposing raw muscle and sinew. A faint purple glow enveloped her hand—chakra scalpel. With precision, she severed the nerve clusters.  

Next, a wind-infused blade sliced through bone and tendon, avoiding arteries.  

Drip. Drip.  

Dark blood oozed from the stump. She rotated Danzo’s wrist, detaching the arm completely—save for two arteries, still taut like lifelines.  

Danzo lay motionless, his shadow-level strength rendered useless by anesthesia. Even a kage was vulnerable on the operating table.  

The Perfect Surgeon 

"Here."  

Senju Chihaya, her assistant, presented the Sharingan arm, its nerves impeccably preserved by Orochimaru’s craftsmanship.  

Hikari severed Danzo’s remaining arteries, using water chakra to stem the bleeding. Then—  

Green light erupted.  

Medical Ninjutsu: Mystical Palm Jutsu!  

In five seconds, the vessels fused—flawlessly. No scar. No misalignment. As if the arm had always belonged.  

Chihaya watched, awed.  

This was why he’d insisted she lead the surgery.  

• Wind sliced bone like butter.  

• Water controlled bloodflow.  

• Fire sterilized wounds.  

• Lightning stimulated nerves.  

• Earth reinforced fractures. 

With chakra scalpels and Byakugan’s microscopic vision, she was a one-woman medical corps.  

Only Hashirama cells’ chakra-draining properties forced her to rely on assistants.  

The Traitor in the Shadows 

As she connected nerves, her 360-degree vision locked onto the figure at the door.  

Aburame Ryōma.  

His kikaichū swarmed beneath his cloak, stirred by surging chakra.  

What is he planning?  

Her fingers hesitated.  

"Something wrong?" Chihaya noticed her pause.  

"…No."  

But Ryōma’s killing intent was unmistakable.  

He’s going to kill Danzo.  

Her mind raced:  

• Danzo was defenseless—paralyzed, arm severed, unable to weave signs for Izanagi.  

• This was the perfect chance.  

• If Ryōma succeeded, she and he would dominate Root.  

• If he failed… she could feign ignorance. 

Yet—  

Too easy.  

Danzo never left himself vulnerable. This reeked of a trap.  

• Why no countermeasures against her?  

• Why allow anesthesia?  

• Why trust Ryōma—his longtime shadow? 

What am I missing?  

The Assassin Strikes 

Clatter.  

Ryōma’s cane hit the floor.  

His kikaichū surged—a black tide rushing toward Danzo.  

Secret Technique: Insect Javelin!  

The bugs converged, forming a living spear aimed at Danzo’s heart.  

Ryōma’s face twisted with grief and resolve.  

"This is my atonement."  

For letting Root fall into darkness. 

For forgetting his mission—the one that could’ve saved them all.  

If he’d acted sooner—  

• The Uchiha and Senju might still exist.  

• Itachi and Shisui would’ve lived.  

• Orochimaru wouldn’t have betrayed Konoha.  

• Hikari… might’ve had a normal childhood. 

Now, he would end it.  

The Trap Springs 

The bugs lunged—  

—and froze mid-air.  

Danzo’s lifeless eye snapped open.  

"Fool."  

A seal glowed on his forehead—Shisui’s eye swirling awake.  

Kotoamatsukami: Overwrite Reality.  

Ryōma’s body locked up, his will hijacked.  

Hikari finally understood.  

This was never about me.  

Danzo had anticipated Ryōma’s betrayal—and used her as bait to expose it.  

Now, the real game began.  

Chapter 179: The Backup Plan  

Clang!  

The staff clattered to the floor.  

A massive sphere of kikaichū—the dreaded "Insect Jade"—buzzed like a swarm of hornets unleashed from hell.  

In the dead silence of the operating room, even the dullest mind would sense the abnormality.  

Chihaya Tō, engrossed in Hikari’s delicate nerve-reconnection procedure, scowled at the interruption.  

Neural surgery demanded absolute focus. A single lapse could doom the patient. Worse, unlike other procedures, success couldn’t be confirmed until the subject awoke—making it a high-stakes gamble with zero margin for error.  

Since when does Ryōma fumble like this?  

He turned to reprimand the Aburame—only to freeze.  

His neck wouldn’t move.  

Nor his limbs. His torso. Even his lips felt numb, his tongue stiff as a decade-old shoe sole.  

What—?  

Blood vessels bulged in his widened eyes. Black, block-like curse marks slithered across his skin—and Hikari’s too, though hers burned with crimson edges, spreading like wildfire to her wrists.  

Beneath them, kikaichū formed living wires linking Ryōma to his targets. Blue chakra surged through, saturating their bodies with paralyzing seals.  

Self-Cursing Seal Technique.  

A Root-standard restraint—chakra infused with binding curses to immobilize targets. Normally, it required physical contact. But Ryōma had weaponized his insects, turning them into conduits for remote activation.  

Seeing his prey locked down, Ryōma exhaled.  

Chihaya was irrelevant. Hikari was the true threat.  

The Self-Cursing Seal was notoriously hard to break. In decades of service, no one had escaped its hold—until—  

Crack.  

A fissure split Hikari’s curse mark.  

Ryōma’s stomach dropped. He pumped more chakra through the insect wires—  

Too late.  

Creak.  

Her fingers flexed. Delicate arms swelled with corded muscle, tendons taut as drawn longbows.  

Snap.  

The curse marks shattered.  

The Insect Jade, mid-flight toward Danzō’s helpless form, froze—  

"Hmph."  

Hikari’s lips parted.  

Boom!  

A compressed fireball erupted from her mouth, engulfing the swarm in a supernova of heat.  

Pop! Pop! Pop!  

Kikaichū combusted like firecrackers, their charred remains stinking of burnt protein.  

Failed.  

Ryōma’s hope died with his insects.  

If Hikari stood with Danzō, even Itachi couldn’t kill the old man now.  

Zzt!  

Lightning arced from Hikari’s feet, racing back through the insect wires. Ryōma convulsed as volts locked his muscles.  

Betrayal. Capture. Torture. His fate crystallized—a lab rat for Root’s worst experiments.  

But none of that mattered.  

The mission—stop Danzō—had failed.  

"Lift his curse. Clean this up. Or when Danzō wakes, no one saves you."  

Hikari’s voice was ice. Already, she’d returned to surgery as if nothing happened.  

Ryōma, drenched in cold sweat, obeyed.  

Chihaya gasped as his curse broke—only for kikaichū to flood his throat.  

"Ghk—!"  

They burrowed past his gagging, drilling into his heart—nesting, breeding, primed to explode on command.  

One glance at Ryōma’s frosty glare told him: Make a sound, and you die.  

Chihaya’s hands shook. His scalpel clattered.  

Danzō’s loyal disciple? The man who’d devoted his life to immortality?  

Gone.  

In his place stood a survivor—back bent, head lowered, a perfect subordinate.  

Click. Click.  

The tension dissolved. Ryōma resumed his post. The room stilled.  

Only Danzō’s ragged breaths marked time.  

"Surgery’s complete. No complications." Hikari peeled off bloodied gloves.  

"None at all!" Chihaya bowed, crumpling the gloves—his famed germaphobia gone.  

"Shall we wake Lord Danzō?"  

Hikari smirked. "Your call."  

"Y-Yes."  

As Chihaya injected the stimulant, Hikari moved to Ryōma’s side, hefting Samehada.  

The Aburame’s confusion radiated off him: Why stop me but spare me?  

Simple.  

You’d have died for nothing.  

Hikari had spotted Danzō’s insurance the moment she activated her Byakugan.  

Among the ten Sharingan on that arm, one pulsed with dual-layered chakra—Izanagi, pre-sealed via Shisui’s Mangekyō.  

Just like Madara tricked Hashirama.  

Kill Danzō, and the three-tomoe would rewrite reality—resurrecting him without sacrificing Shisui’s eye.  

With Hikari’s Sharingan mass-production, three-tomoe were expendable.  

Ryōma’s loyalty was proven. But his value lay in his position—Root’s second-in-command.  

Hikari’s ambitions demanded more than Danzō’s death.  

She wanted his empire.  

The labs. The intel network. The personnel. The resources.  

Chihaya in Medical. Tsubaki in Equipment. Ryōma overseeing operations. Soon, she’d control everything.  

And when her strength peaked—when her body matured—  

That would be Danzō’s end.  

Chapter 180: Reverse Eight Gates—Success!  

As the anesthesia wore off, Danzo groggily awoke to the sensation of cold dampness beneath him. The air carried a burnt, almost corn-like odor. Harsh lights stabbed at his dark-accustomed eyes, forcing him to blink rapidly until his vision cleared—revealing the familiar cyan-tiled ceiling of Root’s medical ward.  

He’d seen this ceiling many times before—after near-fatal missions, when Chizuru Tō’s scalpels had pieced him back together. Once, after an ambush cost him an eye and charred his right arm to a crisp, he’d foolishly agreed to surgery without anesthesia (courtesy of Chizuru’s sadistic "advice"). The pain nearly killed him.  

Since then, he’d rarely fought personally. Now, staring up at those tiles again, they felt almost foreign.  

"Lord Danzo—the surgery was a success!"  

A gaunt, sickly face suddenly blocked the light—Chizuru Tō. His greasy hair dangled like seaweed as he spoke in a tone of forced cheer, though his bloodshot, bulging eyes betrayed exhaustion.  

Danzo grimaced and shoved him aside with his new right arm—still stiff and numb, moving like a corpse’s limb. Grunting, he propped himself up on his left elbow.  

"Sensei, how do you feel?"  

A crisp, youthful voice. Danzo’s eyes flicked open.  

Silver hair shimmering like starlight, pale skin stark against her black robes—Hikari, his "borrowed" disciple, stood before him. Her blindfolded face was so flawlessly sculpted it seemed unreal.  

Instantly, Danzo’s scowl softened.  

Chizuru’s cadaverous mug could never compare.  

The fact that he’d stolen her from Hiruzen with Kotoamatsukami only sweetened the deal.  

"Mm. Let me test it."  

Uncharacteristically gentle, his voice lacked its usual edge—likely the drugs’ fault.  

Chizuru, sidelined after his failed attempt at sucking up, watched the "heartwarming" scene with thinly veiled disgust. Nearby, Aburame Ryūma stood guard at the door, posture rigid with feigned loyalty.  

Danzo’s gonna get played to death by his precious disciple.  

Not that Chizuru cared. Whoever won, he’d still be stuck in the lab. He just hoped he wouldn’t get splattered in the crossfire.  

Silently, he retreated into the background—a human scarecrow.  

Danzo ignored him, focusing on his new arm.  

The limb was cold—unnervingly so, like a cadaver’s. The skin felt waxy, the muscles sluggish. But as blood flow resumed, warmth seeped back in, and with it—power.  

His fingers flexed.  

Deep within the arm, the Hashirama-cell chakra core activated, pulsing verdant energy. Vitality surged, repairing the graft site while simultaneously creeping inward—a silent invasion.  

Ten embedded Sharingan bulged grotesquely beneath the skin, writhing like parasitic red slugs. They suppressed the Hashirama cells’ erosion, converting that monstrous chakra into ocular power—tightening their grip.  

Yet the invasion persisted. A single misstep, and Danzo would sprout roots.  

Beneath the bandages, his right eye—a pinwheel Mangekyō—flared. Yin-release energy crushed the Hashirama cells’ advance, siphoning their vitality to replenish the drained dōjutsu. The crimson hue returned.  

The arm’s chakra now trickled out like a pinhole leak—barely a threat.  

"Perfect."  

Danzo practiced hand seals, alternating between his natural left hand and the new right.  

"Hikari, your medical ninjutsu surpasses Chizuru’s."  

Hope you’re still praising her when she carves you up.  

The "loyal" doctor turned away, sulking.  

"Chizuru-sensei taught me well," Hikari said, tossing him a bone.  

"N-No, no! Your talent is—" Chizuru stammered, suddenly meek. (Ryūma’s bugs were still in his lungs.)  

Danzo’s brow furrowed.  

Since when did this arrogant bastard humble himself?  

Something felt off. That burnt smell…  

"My lord."  

Ryūma interrupted, presenting Danzo’s cane. Distracted, Danzo reached with his right hand—  

—and recoiled.  

The Sharingan embedded in his palm twitched, its pupil dilating against the wood.  

Right. Can’t grip things carelessly now.  

The arm needed sealing—both to curb Hashirama-cell erosion and to avoid Byakugan detection.  

"Ryūma, I’ll be in Vault One, acclimating. No interruptions."  

"Understood."  

Ryūma bowed deeply—hiding the new resolve in his eyes.  

The door slid open. Red lights shifted to green as Danzo hobbled out, his left hand clumsily adjusting to the cane. Shadowy figures—Nara operatives—emerged from the walls, flanking him as he left.  

"Haaah…"  

Chizuru exhaled explosively once Danzo was gone.  

"Lord Hikari—"  

"Act normal."  

Hikari’s glare silenced him. His earlier slip had almost tipped Danzo off.  

Chizuru’s face instantly twisted back into its usual smug asshole default.  

"Out."  

"Y-Yes!"  

The "arrogant" doctor scampered off, politely shutting the door behind him.  

"No entry until I say so. And—you three, with me to the underground vault."  

"Yes, sir!"  

Footsteps faded. Silence.  

Only Hikari and Ryūma remained.  

"Ask," Hikari said, her Byakugan confirming no eavesdroppers.  

Ryūma’s question burst out:  

"Why didn’t you expose me?"  

His expression was pained. He’d been ready to die killing Danzo. When Hikari broke free of the Cursed Seal and burned his kikaichū to ash, he’d accepted death—only for her to spare him. Even threatening Chizuru to save his life.  

Why?  

"You don’t deserve to die like that."  

"My life means nothing if it kills Danzo!"  

"You can’t kill him."  

"The anesthesia—he couldn’t have used Izanagi without hands or consciousness!"  

Hikari almost pitied him.  

"Did your research mention Ura Shishō Fuin?"  

Ryūma froze.  

"The… 'Seal of Embedded Command'?"  

He had seen it—a technique to pre-load a dōjutsu’s ability into a Sharingan, triggering automatically under set conditions.  

"Danzo stored Izanagi in a spare three-tomoe. Your attack would’ve just wasted one eye."  

Ryūma paled.  

"Now," Hikari leaned in, "my turn. Why kill Danzo?"  

"A… mission."  

His voice was hollow. That perfect chance—just a trap.  

"From who?"  

"Danzo."  

"?"  

"Shimon Kujiku no Jin prevents details."  

The Tongue Eradication Seal. He couldn’t elaborate.  

Hikari’s Byakugan checked his emotional aura—truth.  

"With that arm and Izanagi, you’ll never kill him now."  

"Get to the point."  

"I’ll do it for you."  

Her tone was casual—like swatting a fly.  

And why not?  

The Reverse Eight Gates was nearly complete. Bloodline erosion? Chakra shortages? Soon, irrelevant.  

Her sights were set higher—the vacant throne of the heavens. Danzo? A pebble on the path.  

"Your price?"  

"Root. Serve me."  

Ryūma hesitated.  

"Root exists to protect Konoha from the shadows—by any means necessary. Danzo twisted it into his private army. If I help you… what’s the difference?"  

Ah.  

So that was his motive.  

"Then don’t change its purpose," Hikari shrugged. "Protect Konoha… and sometimes, run my errands."  

Silence.  

She watched the conflict play out on his face—then struck the final blow:  

"Danzo plans to use me against Hiruzen. With Kotoamatsukami, I might level Konoha. Imagine the chaos if other villages attack mid-coup."  

Ryūma jolted.  

"How do you know about his—?!"  

Loyalty warred with pragmatism.  

Finally—a nod.  

Danzo’s death would free Root. And Hikari—at least nominally—was Hiruzen’s disciple.  

Close enough.  

Three Days Later  

Hikari (Yang) sat cross-legged atop the Hashirama Tree, siphoning chakra as usual—when suddenly, her eyes snapped open.  

Ecstasy flooded her features.  

Within her chakra core, the violet spiral that had stretched endlessly toward her main body… finally descended.  

A voice echoed from within:  

"Reverse Eight Gates—complete. Return."