For a classroom without a teacher, the atmosphere might as well be a street market—especially among students on the verge of graduation, whose energy between sessions ran hot. The Academy's curriculum was relatively relaxed; grades weren't taken too seriously. Nothing like the punishing pressure of a university entrance exam. So these students had energy to spare, and they spent it freely—the cluster of girls around Sasuke had grown larger since last week; Chōji's desk had acquired several new flavors of potato chips; Sakura's and Ino's drawers now held assorted cosmetics with unfamiliar brand names.
And today's classroom debate was, frankly, a little... intense.
"I'm not wrong! That dark, flashy woman who appeared out of nowhere is obviously there to seduce Zuolin! She's the villain!"
"She is not! Lady Higan definitely has her own pain and reasons! Do you even know what black spider lilies symbolize? Unforeseeable death and love—it's literary symbolism, you shallow creature! It's the author's foreshadowing!"
"It doesn't matter! Ahri is Zuolin's woman!"
"Lady Higan has ten times more presence as the main love interest!"
Two girls on opposite sides of the classroom were red-faced and seething, clearly not individuals but the vanguards of two distinct factions—Team Lady Higan versus Team Ahri, the debate over who was Zuolin's true love interest in full, ferocious swing.
"..."
Shikamaru had his hands clasped behind his head, face-down on his desk, wearing the expression of a man contemplating the pointlessness of existence. Even for someone who found almost nothing worth the effort to react to, overhearing this from his immediate surroundings had apparently breached his tolerance threshold. His current threshold, at least.
"Mm—it seems our work is resonating with the audience quite well."
Hinata rested her chin on one hand; a corn kernel popped open in her other palm with a small crack—still imperfect, but at least edible now. Her pale eyes drifted over the two warring camps without much expression.
"Haven't you made enough money by now? Even I can see that past a certain point, money stops solving problems." Sasuke glanced at her, mildly irritated. He wasn't stupid—he'd worked out by now that Hinata's entire approach was essentially spending to get stronger, and since it clearly worked, he couldn't object.
"Ha ha ha ha. Money is always useful—wherever you are, whenever you need it."
A low, strange little laugh. Hinata's pale eyes drifted toward Sasuke. "And besides—you want to rebuild the Uchiha Clan, don't you? That takes capital too."
The comment gave Sasuke pause. This was still before his reunion with Itachi; the Uchiha heir hadn't yet abandoned his feelings for the clan entirely. He had listed "reviving the Uchiha Clan" as his goal on the very first day of class, after all.
"...Fine. You have a point."
No argument came. Sasuke let out a quiet huff and ended the conversation there.
Sitting at her desk, Hinata shook her head slowly. The corner of her mouth curved—something private, unhurried. She murmured it half to herself: "Yes~~ money really is a good thing~~"
[Time rewind:]
Danzō was not in a good mood. He maintained his usual composure—cold and still—but Hinata had caught the flicker of anger and impatience behind his eyes.
"I always assumed the Hyuga Clan was reasonably compliant. Looking at you, I see I was mistaken. Anyone with a Kekkei Genkai—it's never possible to count on full compliance."
He spoke with the measured delivery of a man who found the truth unpleasant. His grip tightened on the walking stick. The dim candlelight in the underground chamber threw his shadow long across the floor, stretching it over Hinata like something tangible—like the wariness and contempt inside him had taken on physical form.
"How flattering. But I doubt you called me here at such risk simply to comment on my personality."
Hinata met his gaze without a trace of anxiety. By the logic of the original story, Danzō's obsessive handling of the Uchiha massacre had fully ruptured his relationship with the Third Hokage. After the Uchiha were gone, the Third had dissolved Root by direct order—and the bareness of this underground room, the total absence of any attendants, confirmed it: Danzō was a tiger stripped of his mountain, claws pulled in, biding his time.
Under those circumstances, he would not dare move against the Hyuga heiress. That would only bring sharper measures from the Third down on his head.
"Hmph. You know who I am?"
"I don't~. But that doesn't particularly matter, does it?"
That answer made Danzō's eyes lift—flat and dark. And then Hinata's brow snapped tight. She opened her Byakugan immediately, her tone cutting through the room: "Please withdraw. I don't know what your right eye is attempting to cast—but I would strongly suggest you reconsider."
Danzō's fingers tightened on the stick again. Genuinely surprised—but also, unexpectedly, somewhat impressed.
His right eye socket held the transplanted eye of Shisui Uchiha, once called a genjutsu prodigy without equal. From that eye, he could cast Kotoamatsukami—the most powerful genjutsu in existence, capable of rewriting a target's will from the inside without the target ever sensing a thing.
But casting genjutsu meant releasing chakra—and this girl had detected the buildup through her Byakugan and named his intent before he could act.
His original plan: use the world's greatest genjutsu to quietly take control of the Hyuga heiress and add her to his network. That plan was no longer viable.
"...Your vigilance is worth acknowledging."
Danzō stopped the technique. A rare, thin smile crossed his face—though the angle made it look closer to a sneer. "It's been quite some time since the Hyuga Clan produced someone like you. Someone who refuses to be contained."
"May I interpret that as: you'd like to work with me? Your approach was poor form—but the intention, I can understand."
She stepped back, just slightly, without drawing attention to it. Say what you would about him, this man's playbook ran deeper than she could fully read. Getting caught off-guard would cost her.
"Heh. Work together? That's an interesting way to frame it, from a spirited child like you. But—it's not yet the right time."
Danzō studied her for a moment, then a thin satisfaction returned to his expression. "When you're more useful—we'll meet again. Until then... Sai. Stay at this young lady's side."
The figure kneeling in the shadows offered no resistance. A clean, precise nod: "Yes, Danzō-sama."
After the sound of Danzō's walking stick faded into the dark, the boy raised his head and looked at Hinata with that practiced smile.
"In that case—I look forward to working under you, Lady Hinata."
"Heh~~"
Hinata looked at Sai. She saw the tactic clearly—Danzō was offering her a servant with one hand while installing a surveillance unit with the other. As a move, it was —
"Not entirely unwelcome~~ ha ha ha ha~~"
"Very well. Your first assignment—go and handle what I'm about to tell you."
"Money really is a good thing~~"
In a separate underground chamber—darker, damper—another voice uttered the same words, flat and empty.
"So. Are the two of you clear on the terms of the commission?"
Sai kept his smile in place through sheer discipline while every instinct stayed wound tight. He had grown up in darkness; he could read the ambient bloodlust radiating off these two with unusual clarity.
This was somewhere outside Konoha. The air was thick—cut through with the faint stink of old blood and something rotting. In the underground world's vocabulary, this kind of place was known as a black-market broker's office: a venue where, given sufficient funds, anything could be arranged.
The five great nations had official mission infrastructure—but everything that couldn't pass through official channels had to go somewhere. These offices existed because they were needed. Kill markets, in practice. Pay enough, and someone would take any job. Alliances between the great nations meant nothing in a room like this. A jōnin from any of the five villages could have a bounty placed on them here—by personal enemies, by rival nations seeking to quietly thin an opponent's upper ranks, by a hundred other reasons that didn't need explaining.
The stronger the ninja, the higher the price on their head.
Sai was here on a single order from the pale-eyed young lady. As a Root operative, he knew every blind spot in Konoha's hidden guard posts and barrier arrays—slipping out unseen had been trivial.
"Please don't worry yourself, young client. Kakuzu-san has the highest task completion rate in this office—catching him while he's available for commissions is nothing short of lucky."
The broker's agent ran his professional patter smoothly. An unusually young client was a little uncommon, nothing more—in the shinobi world, killers who started young were hardly rare.
"Good. Can delivery be completed within one week?"
Sai kept his unease buried, voice level. Across the table, the tall masked man answered without inflection: "A non-Konoha ninja, under thirteen years of age, appearance and physical aptitude both above average. Delivered alive. One million ryō. One week is no obstacle."
"Ahhhh~ fine, fine—but why does it have to be alive? Bodies are so much more convenient, yeah?"
A lazy, flippant voice cut in—belonging to the silver-haired young man lounging beside the masked figure, all slicked-back hair and reckless swagger, everything Kakuzu was not.
"There are specific reasons. The subject must be physically unharmed."
Sai repeated the requirement flatly. Hidan let out a dissatisfied click of the tongue—then a smile, sharp-edged and predatory, slid across his face. He leaned across the table, eyes bright: "Hey~ kid—you've got real talent for this line of work. Ever think about joining the Cult of Jashin?"
"Quiet, Hidan. There's no custom of killing your clients before payment clears. Know your limits." Kakuzu's tone brooked no argument. He was already pushing back from the table. "One week. We return with the goods."
Hidan subsided with a mutter and followed. Sai watched them go, then frowned, just slightly: "They... really can be trusted?"
The broker's agent answered without hesitation.
"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, client. These two are Akatsuki members—the organization with the highest task completion rate in recent years. Your goods will arrive within the week."
Sai gave a slow nod, rose, and inclined his head in polite farewell.
"The Akatsuki. Noted."
"I'll return to collect when the goods arrive."