Reiji stared at Danzō with a scowl.
The old man sat at his desk as if the room belonged to him, one leg crossed over the other, his visible eye watching Reiji from beneath the thin spill of moonlight. The shadows in the room made the bandages across his face look even paler than usual, and the sight of him there, perfectly composed in the middle of Reiji's bedroom, only made the irritation behind Reiji's eyes grow sharper.
"Seriously?" Reiji asked, voice flat with exhaustion. "Do we have to do this now? Couldn't you just send a message? I'm tired."
Danzō raised an eyebrow.
"Ah," he said slowly. "My apologies. I had almost forgotten it was your bedtime."
Reiji's scowl deepened.
Danzō began to rise from the chair, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the desk. "Very well. I shall return later."
He paused halfway up.
Then sat back down.
"Wait," he said, crossing one leg over the other again. "I don't care."
Reiji stared at him.
Danzō stared back.
"Really funny," Reiji said.
"I try."
"No, you really don't." Reiji rubbed at his face, then let his hand fall back against the blanket. The mattress creaked faintly beneath him as he shifted, trying to ignore the lingering heaviness of sleep in his body. "You still shouldn't be here. Even if you placed a genjutsu or something, my father will notice that something is going on."
Danzō's expression did not change, but his eye sharpened faintly.
"Trust me, I know Sōichirō better than you think. Had I entered your home in person, he would likely have noticed." He lifted one finger and tapped the side of his own head. "But he will not detect my presence right now. Because I am not there."
Reiji blinked.
Danzō tapped his head again.
"I am only here."
Reiji stared at him for several seconds.
"In my head?"
"In your dream, to be precise."
The silence that followed stretched.
Reiji's expression flattened. "Wow. Really? In my dream?" His eyes narrowed, displeasure sharpening through the last traces of sleep. "That's gross."
Danzō did not blink. "The inside of your head is gross, yes."
Reiji clicked his tongue. "And how are you even doing this?" He sat up a little straighter despite himself, irritation giving way to interest quickly enough to annoy him. "If you are inside my head, is this genjutsu? Some kind of Yamanaka technique? You never showed me this before." His gaze fixed on Danzō, sharp now. "Teach me."
"No."
"Why?" Reiji demanded at once. "Don't be stingy."
"It is not my technique," Danzō said. "Not precisely. It belongs to one of my summons."
Reiji paused.
Then his eyes brightened.
"Ah," he said. "A summon technique. Good. Then give me your contract too."
Danzō stared at him.
"So I can use it," Reiji added, as if that made the request more reasonable.
"I already told you no."
"You are a terrible teacher."
"And you are a greedy student."
"A good teacher should encourage curiosity."
"A good student should learn when to stop asking for things he is not going to receive."
Reiji scowled. "Why not? Isn't that what summon contracts are for? You sign, you summon, they do useful things, everyone benefits."
Danzō's visible eye narrowed with the slow, tired patience of a man forced to explain something obvious to a child who had chosen not to understand it. "Summons are not toys, Reiji. Nor are they accessories to be passed around because you suddenly decided you wanted one. A contract requires the consent of the summoning clan. Without that, there is nothing to give."
"You could ask them."
"I did."
Reiji blinked.
Danzō leaned back in the chair. "They refused."
For a moment, Reiji only stared at him.
Then his face twisted with genuine offense. "Why?"
"I did not ask for a detailed list of complaints."
"What is wrong with me?" Reiji asked, sounding personally insulted now. "I am great."
"That may not be the universal opinion."
"It should be."
Danzō looked at him for several seconds, then sighed through his nose. "It is not only them. Other summons I have consulted showed a similar aversion."
Reiji's scowl deepened. "That makes no sense."
"Summons are not ordinary animals. Some are older than most shinobi clans. Their instincts are different from ours, and their judgment does not always follow human logic." Danzō's gaze lingered on him with faint curiosity, as if Reiji himself were one more unpleasant puzzle placed before him. "Perhaps they dislike your chakra. Perhaps they dislike your temperament. Perhaps they simply have good taste."
Reiji gave him a flat look. "You are enjoying this too much."
"A little."
"So what am I supposed to do? Stay summonless forever?"
"Not necessarily. When you are older, you can attempt a reverse summoning ritual and see where it takes you. Most shinobi who form new contracts do so that way, if they are not introduced through an existing line."
Reiji's irritation cooled into interest again. "You can do that?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because the Shimura family has held the same contract for generations," Danzō said. "I had no need."
"But you could have two contracts, couldn't you?"
"In theory."
"Then why not?"
"Because reverse summoning is random, dangerous, and frequently fatal when attempted carelessly." Danzō's tone remained dry, but there was enough weight beneath it to keep the warning from sounding theatrical. "You are not choosing a destination. You are throwing yourself toward something that may or may not wish to receive you. Some people vanish. Some appear somewhere they cannot survive. Some arrive before summons who do not appreciate uninvited visitors." His visible eye settled on Reiji. "It is a risk I have the luxury not to take."
Reiji absorbed that in silence.
Then he sighed, long and dramatic.
"So I'll have to do it myself one day."
"Perhaps," Danzō said. "When I judge you strong enough to have a reasonable chance of surviving it."
"That sounds like a very distant way of saying no."
"It is."
Reiji pouted.
Danzō's eye narrowed.
"You are aware that expression does nothing to move me."
Without a word, Reiji flopped backward onto the bed, dragged the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.
Danzō watched him.
"What are you doing?"
"Going back to sleep," Reiji said, his voice muffled beneath the blanket. "Since I am already sleeping anyway."
"Can you please stop being a child?"
Reiji opened one eye.
"You are in my dream," he said. "That means I can do whatever I want. Also, since you are not really here, you are not really my superior right now."
Then he stuck his tongue out at him.
Danzō slowly brought one hand up and rubbed between his brows.
"Are you finished?"
Reiji lowered the blanket just enough for Danzō to see the small, mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Yes."
"You are going to stop doing that."
"And you should stop with the dramatic entrances," Reiji replied immediately, pushing himself upright again with a sigh. "They are tiring. Just contact me normally. Really, who sends prisoners after a child to recruit him?"
Danzō looked at him for a moment.
Then, very dryly, he said, "It did work."
Reiji clicked his tongue but did not answer.
Danzō leaned back in the chair, his visible eye settling on Reiji with renewed focus. "So," he said, his tone returning to business, "how is Uzumaki Kushina doing?"
Reiji's expression sobered despite himself. The irritation did not disappear, but it settled somewhere colder as he rested his forearms on his knees."It is like you said. Her control over the beast seems poor." Reiji paused briefly, remembering the moment in the forest when her eyes had shifted red, just for an instant. It had not looked human. There had been something bestial in her gaze then, something raw and dangerous pressing against the surface before she forced herself back under control. "I have already seen one moment where either her control or the seal slipped enough for some of its influence to show."
Danzō's eye narrowed slightly. "Explain."
"Her eyes changed," Reiji said. "Red. It was brief, but it was there."
"What caused it?"
"Heightened emotional turmoil, I think." Reiji frowned slightly, choosing his words with care. "The kidnapping affected her more than she seems to admit, maybe even more than she understands. Survivor's guilt, probably. She became worked up during the test, and something slipped through."
Danzō brought a hand to his brow and rubbed it, the gesture controlled but clearly irritated. "Worse than I thought," he muttered. "Those idiots. I told them sealing the Kyūbi into a child who had not even finished developing was a mistake, and now here we are."
Reiji said nothing to that.
Danzō lowered his hand. "And your relationship with the girl?"
Reiji shrugged. "Fine, I guess."
Danzō's stare sharpened.
Reiji sighed through his nose. "We were never that close before the incident. After months without seeing each other, I was prepared for a colder reception, but she seems more angry at herself than at me." He paused, then added, almost despite himself, "She is really selfless."
"That is good news," Danzō said. "We spent time working on your problematic personality because it could have become an obstacle, but it seems that will not be a problem here."
Reiji scowled at him. "My personality is fine, thank you. You would know that I am getting along with my teammates just fine."
Danzō looked faintly amused. "Of course. If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Still, you seem to have gained a special place in that girl's heart. You were, indirectly or not, her savior during the kidnapping. Use that. Become someone she can depend on. Someone she can rely on without hesitation."
"I am working on it," Reiji said, more sharply than before. "It is not something that happens in the blink of an eye. It takes time."
"I know that." Danzō's voice remained calm, which made the reproach in it more annoying. "That is why I sent you to that woman. To ease your path toward the girl. But it seems you wasted the opportunity. According to my reports, Tsukiko invited you to her home several times, and you refused each invitation. You threw away an opening I gave you."
Reiji rolled his eyes. "That woman was baiting me. I know it. She suspected something when I was assigned to her."
"Are you sure?"
"It was a hunch," Reiji admitted, "but a good one. By refusing her, I made myself look less eager and less suspicious. She seemed more open by the end because of it, not less." He shifted slightly on the bed, the mattress creaking beneath him even though none of this was real. "Also, I didn't know what Kushina thought of me at the time. It was more natural to see her again as her teammate, on neutral ground, where she would not feel pressured by Tsukiko or the rest of the Senju household. And Nawaki does not seem particularly fond of me, so forcing myself into their home would have created more problems than it solved."
Danzō stared at him for several seconds.
Then the corner of his mouth shifted faintly. "What a resounding answer. You sound as though you practiced it in front of a mirror."
Reiji frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"She is not your mother, Reiji."
For one brief instant, Reiji's eyes widened.
Then something hot and ugly sparked beneath his ribs, rising fast enough that his hands curled against the blanket before he forced them still. His face went flat a heartbeat later, too.
"…What ?" he said.
Danzō ignored the answer entirely. "It is natural that she might invoke certain maternal feelings in you. She is kind, warm when she wishes to be, and she gave you attention at a time when you were vulnerable. But you need to get rid of those feelings quickly. They will dull you, and they will get you nowhere."
"Do not project your fantasies onto me."
"So stop hesitating to deceive her over something as sentimental as that," Danzō continued, as if Reiji had not spoken. "You do not owe her your honesty. You do not owe her your guilt. To her, you are a strange child she grew fond of during a temporary assignment. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"I said stop speaking bullshit." Reiji's voice remained low, but the edge inside it sharpened. "I do not know where you got that idea, but she is nothing to me."
Danzō nodded once. "Good. I only wanted to make sure."
Reiji stared at him, unconvinced.
"And you may be right about one thing," Danzō added. "That woman is more shrewd than she lets others believe." His gaze remained steady, cold and measuring. "You also seem to forget what she is capable of when she wants something."
Reiji looked up.
Danzō did not blink. "She willingly allowed a young girl's life to be sacrificed because she did not want her own children to carry that burden. Then she smiled at that same child afterward as if nothing had happened."
The room went colder.
Or maybe Reiji only imagined it.
He stared at Danzō for several seconds, something tight pressing beneath his ribs despite his best efforts to crush it. "And you wouldn't have done the same?"
Danzō's expression did not change. "Why do you think I do not have children?"
The answer came so evenly that Reiji found nothing to say to it.
Danzō leaned back again, as if the matter were simple. "I did not say what she did was incomprehensible. I said she is not perfect. When it mattered to her, she chose selfishly, like everyone does. Remember that before you place her somewhere she does not belong."
Reiji's mouth tightened.
Then, dryly, he said, "I think I already told you this, but you seem to have a very poor opinion of that woman."
Danzō scoffed, the sound dry and humorless. "Who would? She and her family have done little but drain the achievements of their predecessors while shaming their name. Worse than that, they have repeatedly endangered the village with their selfish choices."
Reiji watched him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "By not letting Tsunade become the jinchūriki?"
"By marrying the current Daimyō's brother," Danzō cut in.
That made Reiji pause.
"In what way is that bad?" Reiji asked. "Having royalty in your pocket seems like a good deal to me."
"Because the children born from that union are not merely potential shinobi," Danzō said. "They are shinobi tied directly to royal blood. Do you understand the problem now? How could the Daimyō accept members of his own family being turned into sacrifices for the village? How could he accept royal blood being used as a vessel for a demon?"
Danzō's visible eye narrowed, and for the first time, open disgust crept into his expression.
"That woman knew exactly what she was doing. That marriage gave her children protection no ordinary shinobi child would have. It made them politically inconvenient candidates. Untouchable, or close enough to it."
"So," Reiji said slowly, "like I said. Because she did not let Tsunade become the jinchūriki."
Danzō sent him a withering stare.
Reiji ignored it.
"And if you hated the decision so much," he added, "you could have become the jinchūriki yourself."
Danzō scoffed. "First, I am too old. A vessel must last as long as possible, and youth increases the chances of long-term stability." His mouth twisted faintly. "Second, if I had become the Kyūbi's vessel, I would have died."
Reiji frowned. "You already told me that before, but is the Nine-Tails really that powerful?"
Danzō smiled at him.
There was no warmth in it.
"The First Hokage was many things," he said, "but wise was not one of them. By capturing those beasts, he placed a curse upon Konoha. Not only did he hand them to other nations in a foolish gesture of peace, he chose to keep the most problematic one for Konoha."
"That certainly worked well for peace," Reiji said dryly.
Danzō nodded once,"It is already difficult to find suitable hosts for the other beasts. The Nine-Tails is in a league of its own. There were several attempts to seal it into living vessels, and each time the result was failure. The host was consumed almost immediately, their life force eroded from within before the seal could properly stabilize."
Reiji's frown deepened.
"Until now," Danzō continued, "only an Uzumaki has managed to contain it."
"Uzumaki Mito," Reiji said.
For a moment, something that almost resembled respect settled over Danzō's face. It was faint, buried beneath his usual severity, but unmistakable. "She was a remarkable woman. She contained that monstrous beast for most of her life, restrained it, and even managed to make use of a portion of its power." His voice lowered slightly. "Her only flaw was dying too soon."
Reiji said nothing.
He understood what Danzō meant. From what he had heard, Kushina was never supposed to receive the Kyūbi so early. She had been chosen, yes, but the sealing was meant to happen later, when she was older, stronger, and her body had finished enough of its growth to give the seal the best chance of remaining stable. Then Mito's health had taken an unexpected turn for the worse, far earlier than planned, and the entire procedure had been rushed before the village had time to prepare properly.
"Couldn't they have sealed the beast into another Uzumaki?" Reiji asked. "Someone other than Kushina?"
Danzō shook his head. "There was no time. Uzumaki Itama was present only because he had come after hearing of his daughter's kidnapping. Tsukiko's children were politically impossible because of their royal blood, and sealing the beast into them would have created a problem with the Daimyō. Itama himself was also not an acceptable option. As head of the Uzumaki, turning him into Konoha's jinchūriki would have created its own complications."
"So Kushina was the only choice."
"The only choice left," Danzō corrected. "The sealing happened earlier than intended, under worse conditions than intended, into a child who was not yet ready for it. And now we are stuck with a young girl containing the Nine-Tails, wishing to become part of field operations despite her unstable condition, while her father essentially threatened us into allowing it."
Danzō leaned back in the chair and let out a quiet, bitter chuckle.
"What a gathering of overgrown children."
"Still no lead on that?" Reiji asked.
Danzō glanced at him. "Hm?"
"Uzumaki Mito's sudden death," Reiji said. "You sounded like you thought there was foul play at the center of all this."
For a moment, Danzō did not answer. The silence in the dream-room deepened around them, heavy and unnatural, the frozen moonlight still lying across the floor as if time itself had stopped breathing.
"That is not something for you to think about or concern yourself with," he said.
Reiji watched him.
Danzō's mouth tightened faintly. "Even if… yes. There is almost certainly something there."
Reiji did not respond. There were questions he wanted to ask, but he knew better than to expect answers when Danzō had already decided the topic was closed. Pushing too much would only make the man retreat further behind that cold, infuriating calm of his.
Danzō began to rise from the chair.
Reiji's brow furrowed. "You're leaving?"
"Yes." Danzō adjusted his sleeve with slow precision, as if this entire meeting had been nothing more than a routine report rather than an old man invading his dreams in the middle of the night. "I only wanted to check on your progress. Nothing more."
"That's all?"
"For now." Danzō's gaze shifted back to him. "Still, I may call on you soon for a new mission."
Reiji straightened slightly despite himself. The exhaustion dulling his body did not vanish, but something sharper cut through it at once. "Really? What kind of mission?"
"Nothing concrete yet. I have to make sure my information is accurate first." Danzō moved toward the door, his steps making no sound against the floorboards. "But you may need to leave the country for a few days."
Reiji blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Danzō reached the door and placed a hand on the handle, but he did not open it immediately. Instead, he stopped there, half-turned away from Reiji, his face caught between shadow and moonlight. For a moment, he looked less like an intruder in a child's dream and more like a warning given shape.
"You have to make her give up, Reiji," he said.
Reiji's expression went still.
Danzō turned his head slightly. "Make Uzumaki Kushina stop wanting to be an shinobi. The means do not matter. Convince her, frighten her, disappoint her, make her hate the idea if you must. But make her resign herself to another path."
Reiji's eyes remained flat. "I know."
"It is not only for her safety," Danzō continued. "It is for everyone around her. You do not want her to have the blood of her comrades on her hands, do you? One day, you may be sent on a mission where hesitation, panic, or a moment of lost control is enough. If she slips then, it will already be too late." His voice lowered, cold and certain. "That girl is a walking bomb."
"I said I know."
Danzō studied him.
Whatever he saw in Reiji's face seemed to amuse him, because the corner of his mouth curved faintly. "Do not tell me you have started to care for the girl."
Reiji stared at him for several seconds, his face giving nothing away. Then he leaned back slightly and let out a quiet, dismissive sound.
"Nah."
Danzō smiled, but there was something unreadable behind it. "I chose you because you seemed pragmatic. Because you did not appear the type to let emotion cloud your judgment." His visible eye sharpened. "And because you, better than anyone else, understand what happens when one begins to feel for a jinchūriki."
Reiji's voice went flat. "Do not go there."
Danzō inclined his head, almost politely. "My apologies. It seems that remains a sore subject."
"Go away now." Reiji's fingers curled once against the blanket before relaxing again. "You do not even need to use the door. Just disappear from my head."
"Mental images are important," Danzō said chuckling.
He opened the door.
Beyond it, there was no hallway. Only darkness, deep and seamless, waiting like ink beyond the frame.
"Goodnight, Reiji."
"Go to hell."
Danzō stepped through the door, and it closed behind him without a sound.
The room held for a moment afterward, silent and empty, the moonlight still frozen across the floor. Then even that began to blur at the edges, the desk softening, the walls losing shape, the weight of the blanket fading beneath Reiji's hands.
He let his eyes close, not because he trusted the dream, but because he was too tired to keep fighting it.
Why did it have to be someone like you, Mother?