Chapter Text
The silence was exquisite.
It was a disciplined sense of silence that allowed Danzo to sit down and focus without distractions.
Root Headquarters settled around him like a familiar cloak drawn over weary shoulders after a long campaign. The underground complex breathed with the slow, measured rhythm of an organism that had remembered its original purpose.
He found that he did not particularly miss the surface. With Jinwoo and the younger Root operatives away in the Land of Snow, there was little reason to return to the Shimura estate each evening. Instead, he could solely focus on Root and protecting Konoha with his full concentration.
Besides, the Shimura house had become different these past few years. Empty rooms had acquired furniture that had not been there before, spare bedrooms had become occupied, and kitchens that had once produced little more than efficient meals now filled themselves with the scent of elaborate stews and unfamiliar spices. Hallways that had echoed only with servants' footsteps now carried laughter, arguments over board games, and the occasional scurrying sound of Beru or Igris rushing around for this or that errand.
Returning now would only mean walking into a house occupied by a silence of absence.
He preferred this one.
So he simply remained underground.
His office had once again become both a command center and residence.
A narrow futon lay rolled against the far wall beside a low cedar chest containing two changes of clothes, a folded blanket, and little else. Each evening, after the final reports had been read and the last orders dispatched, he unrolled it beside his desk with the same efficient movements he had practiced since before the Second Shinobi War.
The routine possessed a welcome austerity.
Meals arrived without ceremony and were simple to consume while reviewing mission reports.
Tea remained perpetually warm over a small brazier.
The desk itself had nearly vanished beneath maps, intelligence summaries, intercepted correspondence, mission requests awaiting approval, and reports from agents scattered across every neighboring nation. Paperwork accumulated with reassuring consistency.
The Root Headquarters finally smelled like purpose again. He had almost forgotten how comforting that was.
More importantly, there were no interruptions.
There was no inexplicable aroma of spicy tofu soup drifting through ventilation shafts because Jinwoo had apparently decided that twenty children needed "something warming" after training outdoors in the cold and Beru decided to cook enough for everyone at the base.
He didn’t have to watch out for roasted chestnuts somehow finding their way into supply inventory requests nor be cautious about the hurried footsteps slapping against polished stone outside his office where children treated corridors designed for silent movement as race tracks before tiny fists knocked enthusiastically against his office door before waiting approximately half a heartbeat for permission to enter.
Paperwork no longer was disrupted by distant cries of triumph followed immediately by someone announcing, "Beru started it!" His head no longer spun with dizziness from tiny voices drifting beneath office doors asking increasing absurd questions:
"Lord Shimura, if the shadow soldiers don't have skin, do they still get goosebumps?"
"Can bears eat sweet buns?"
"Beru says he's winning."
"Yellow says Beru is cheating."
"The fox wants to play tag."
"Can we let him?"
"Lord Shimura?"
"...Lord Shimura?"
"...He's pretending not to hear us."
"...Do you think he sleeps with his eye open?"
Danzo still did not understand how any of those discussions had needed to find their way into his office and take priority over paperwork.
Now, there was nothing but peace. The corridors had emptied with all the younger trainees having departed with Jinwoo for the Land of Snow.
Only the older operatives remained and those were already old enough to understand why certain missions never appeared in official records. Their footsteps scarcely made a sound and messages appeared soundlessly upon his desk. No one spoke unless necessary and no one left snack crumbs in the supply room so there were no more mice infestations to worry about.
The headquarters had remembered what it had once been.
It was a weapon, not a home.
He couldn’t disagree with the changes made with Jinwoo’s presence. The training schedules with designated recreation periods and mandated psychological evaluations after missions had their benefits, it was true. Danzo could not argue with the results. But the behavior that came with it was unbecoming.
Now, with Jinwoo absent...
The old rhythms returned effortlessly. It should have felt like coming home.
Instead, as Danzo reached automatically for a teacup that no longer needed to be moved out of reach of curious little hands, he found himself staring for just a moment at the empty space beside the tray. Then, with faint irritation directed entirely at himself, he picked up the cup and returned to his paperwork.
His shoulders, almost imperceptibly, tensed up.
The headquarters was so peaceful now that it felt suspiciously peaceful. He frowned faintly at the thought.
How troublesome. He had spent decades cultivating silence. Now its return felt... conspicuous. Danzo dismissed the absurd observation before it could develop further.
He dipped the brush into fresh ink.
The first report awaited.
Target eliminated.
It was concise with no attempts to dramatize competent work to negotiate for a higher snack allowance. It was professional and exactly as a mission report ought to look.
His seal descended with practiced certainty.
The carved wood struck parchment with a soft, satisfying thock.
Approved.
The report joined the completed stack to his left.
He picked up the next report to review.
A Lightning Country supply depot successfully sabotaged. Enemy provisions expected to diminish within twelve days.
He read the operational summary twice. Three operatives had failed to return.
It was within projected parameters, so it was an acceptable loss, but he disliked the outcome.
The seal struck the paper and joined a new pile on the ground. He’d need to call a meeting with the Root Agents to review what had gone wrong and how to prevent similar losses in the future.
He glanced at their names and sighed when he realized they were from the older generation of Root Agents who hadn’t undergone the newer training methods. That was something to be further looked into.
He pulled out the next report.
Border infiltration complete. Enemy patrol routes mapped. Counterintelligence measures remain undiscovered.
Excellent.
He made a brief notation in the margin to arrange for continued observation and surveillance.
The fourth report was an interrogation summary. The prisoner's resistance had exceeded expectations, but that was ultimately irrelevant. Everyone spoke eventually.
Next was a packet of intercepted messages between key fire country merchants. The intercepted correspondence had been painstakingly reconstructed from fragments gathered across five different courier routes, each page accompanied by Root's annotations in a precise hand. A discussion between several of Fire Country's largest poultry suppliers pointed to a nefarious plan to fix egg prices.
The merchants’ greed was predictable - malevolent chakra had lingered after the kyuubi attack and much of the livestock population had sickened. Chickens proved to be especially vulnerable and entire coops had perished within days; egg production had completely collapsed, the few remaining chickens too stressed and injured to continue laying. Predictably, merchants were looking to profit off of tragedy. Danzo found that neither particularly surprising.
He wrote only three words upon the attached memorandum: Forward to Hokage.
Hiruzen enjoyed believing civilians largely governed themselves through goodwill.
Perhaps reading how quickly respectable businessmen conspired to fleece families purchasing breakfast would remind him otherwise.
He set the report aside.
Danzo paused when he saw a form from one Hatake Kakashi requesting a transfer from ANBU to the special operations - meaning Root. His eye remained upon the page a heartbeat longer before setting it aside. Hatake possessed remarkable talent but he was likewise remarkably damaged in mind and body. He’d need to carefully decide how to proceed later.
The following report arrived sealed in Root's highest classification.
Danzo broke the wax.
His gaze traveled steadily down the familiar, meticulous handwriting. Several paragraphs followed concerning experimental methodology, tissue compatibility, and biochemical observations written with Orochimaru's usual unsettling enthusiasm. It was needlessly verbose, but it basically summed up to mean nothing was successful and he needed more funding.
He set fire to Orochimaru’s weekly update with a simple fire jutsu after he approved of the funding request before he flipped onto the next report which was a casualty report. One agent was permanently crippled and needed to be retired from the field.
Danzo read the accompanying medical summary without expression. It was a regrettable end to a career, but this agent had been lucky that his shadow summon had kept him alive long enough for backup to arrive. Danzo doubted the agent could even transition to serve as an instructor with the level of damage sustained. That meant he wouldn’t be seeing this agent straightening his uniform before entering his office to report for a mission ever again.
It was regrettable, but it was a necessary sacrifice.
Villages survived because unseen hands committed unforgivable acts beneath the earth while heroes smiled beneath sunlight.
The Hokage inspired while Root ensured there remained a village worth inspiring.
Children slept because monsters hunted monsters.
The arithmetic had never changed, only the numbers and faces did.
He reached for the next report when someone knocked. It was three short measured taps and one long tap against the wooden frame. Then he felt a short chakra flare as well - it was Viper coming to report.
"My lord."
"Come in."
The door slid open just enough for one operative to bow and step into the room. "The latest border reconnaissance has arrived. Initial estimates suggest—"
Danzo raised one hand and the operative stopped speaking at once.
Their eyes immediately shot down to the floor where Danzo’s shadow moved. The darkness beneath his chair started to lengthen and the operator’s shoulders stiffened. His eyes darted once toward the spreading darkness before he immediately bowed.
"I shall return later." The door slid silently closed behind Viper.
Danzo waited until the footsteps faded entirely. Only then did he sigh. "...You're early."
Pale fingers emerged first before the shadows parted without rippling to reveal Sung Jinwoo climbing effortlessly into the room.
Snow clung stubbornly to the hem of his dark coat, glittering like crushed diamonds beneath the lantern light. Tiny crystals caught against loose strands of black hair before surrendering to warmth and sliding downward as bright droplets of water. His boots left damp prints upon the stone floor, each melting slowly into dark crescents.
Cold air spilled into the office with him along with the faint sounds of a child's delighted shriek and a heavy whump sound of packed snow striking armor. Danzo could swear he heard Beru's unmistakably enthusiastic clicking in the background as well. The sounds lingered for only a heartbeat before the shadows folded closed once more.
"They miss you."
Danzo had already reached for another report. "I sincerely doubt that."
"They've spent the last hour debating whether Lord Danzo knows how to build a snowman."
"I do."
Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "...You do?"
Danzo’s hand paused halfway towards his brush. He gave his husband a dirty look. "...No."
"I thought so." The corners of Jinwoo's mouth betrayed him.
Danzo clicked his tongue.
He opened one of the desk drawers, withdrew a second teacup without comment, and poured fresh tea from the waiting kettle.
The fragrant steam rose between them, carrying the earthy scent of roasted leaves.
He slid the cup across the desk.
Jinwoo accepted it with both hands. "Thank you."
Danzo merely grunted. "I trust no one has frozen to death."
"No." Jinwoo blew gently across the tea before taking a careful sip.
""I suppose that's fortunate. No broken bones either?"
"No."
"No avalanches."
"No."
"No diplomatic incidents."
Jinwoo paused.
The hesitation alone made Danzo's brush stop above the parchment.
"...Not exactly."
Danzo slowly raised his gaze.
"No one challenged your shadow soldiers to combat, right?"
Jinwoo looked thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "...Define combat."
Danzo remained perfectly still before he slowly placed the brush back to the stand and folded his hands atop the desk.
"...Jinwoo."
"The children wished to determine whether Beru could win a snowball fight."
Danzo closed the report. "I refuse to hear anymore." If the ant was involved, then the story was bound to be ridiculous.
"Beru won."
"I specifically declined further information."
"He became..." Jinwoo considered the wording with suspicious care. "...Rather invested."
"I remain uninterested."
"He excavated an extensive tunnel network beneath the sledding hill and unearthed some former shinobi hideouts. He also probably flushed out the local bandit’s hideout."
Danzo closed his eye.
“On another note,” Jinwoo took another sip of tea, making no visible effort whatsoever to suppress his amusement. “Yellow spent most of the afternoon teleporting the children back uphill after each sled run while the kids had a snowball fight."
Danzo pinched the bridge of his nose. He could picture it, unfortunately: Beru crouched atop some absurd fortress of packed snow, mandibles clicking with the same fanatical enthusiasm he normally reserved for charging armies. The ant would have approached the matter with complete seriousness, naturally. Beru possessed many admirable qualities, but moderation had never been among them. The ant had the tactical instincts of a veteran general and the emotional maturity of the average Root trainee. Then there was Namikaze being used as nothing more than a playground by using the famed Flying Thunder God Technique for some fun.
It was an unfortunate combination.
"So because Beru enjoyed significant advantages thanks to his fortification and the other shadow soldiers wouldn’t help, the children," Jinwoo continued with alarming innocence, "and because none of the other shadow soldiers would intervene..."
Danzo already disliked where this sentence was heading.
"...the children have unanimously declared Beru the Snow Hokage."
Danzo's fingers pressed harder against the bridge of his nose. That wasn’t how the title of ‘hokage’ worked.
"They've also decided every Hokage requires advisors. So naturally..." A smile appeared. It was the smile Jinwoo wore whenever he already knew the outcome of a conversation. "...they appointed you."
Of course they had.
Danzo could already see precisely where this conversation was going. And he was almost certain there was no strategic withdrawal left available. For one glorious moment, Danzo contemplated planning the assassination of the ant. One could not actually assassinate immortal shadow soldiers, but the fantasy possessed undeniable therapeutic value.
"You've been working continuously." Jinwoo's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Danzo flipped through the next report and pretended that he was reading. "I have responsibilities."
"So do I."
"You are presently fulfilling yours."
"I am." Jinwoo smiled. "And you've been fulfilling them for..." Jinwoo glanced thoughtfully toward the growing stacks of completed paperwork. "...roughly fourteen hours."
Danzo's brush did not pause but he mentally cursed out the shadow soldier monitoring him from the shadows. He had already made the concession to take regular breaks and sleep sufficient hours in a futon, yet the shadow summon still felt the need to tattle on him to the kami.
"So now you're coming with me."
Danzo frowned. "I am doing no such thing. Reports do not review themselves. "
"You are."
"I decline." Danzo did not even look up and stubbornly continued to read his report even though the words no longer meant anything to his brain. "I will not waste my time on such frivolous activities."
Jinwoo watched him for several quiet moments. Then he smiled. "I wasn't asking."
The shadow beneath Shimura's chair abruptly swallowed the room. Darkness folded and his office vanished from his view.
Then icy cold air brushed against Danzo's face.
Danzo regarded his husband steadily and exhaled. "...You have become insufferable. Now pass me a scarf." He was dressed to do paperwork in an office, not for the tundra.