The transfer of the Kyūbi began in a suffocating silence.
The soundproof chamber was etched with sealing symbols carved into the stone floor, glowing faintly with pale blue chakra ink.
Several sealing shinobi sat in meditative poses in the corners, sweating despite the cold air, focusing their strength to contain something far greater than all of them—the Nine-Tailed Beast, a symbol of destruction and uncontrollable power.
Mizuki, standing not far from Hiruzen and Danzo, stared wide-eyed at the center of the room.
She could feel it.
Even without activating her Byakugan, the immense pressure wrapped around the room, seeping into her bones, pounding at her heart with every second.
The Kyūbi's chakra wasn't just enormous—it was filled with hatred, rage, and resentment. It felt like a relentless black tide slamming against the inner walls of every person in the room. That aura gnawed at one's resolve, tested one's courage—even for elite shinobi.
And she… was just a nine-year-old girl.
Mizuki's body trembled. Not from fear exactly—but from the sheer weight of the energy in the air. It felt as if each breath set her lungs ablaze.
She gripped her sleeve tightly, trying to remain upright. 'How can Kushina endure this…?'
In the center of the sealing circle, Kushina sat cross-legged, her small body surrounded by red chakra lines forming an intricate pattern. Her face was pale, sweat dripping from her temples, but her eyes still shone—stubborn, as always.
'I… I can do this,' Kushina whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself.
Beneath the strained expression and ragged breath, Mizuki saw the same determination Kushina had every time she challenged her to fight at the academy. She was probably in agony, but she didn't cry. Not once.
Just as Mizuki felt she might collapse—her legs weakening, her vision spinning—a large, steady hand landed on her shoulder from behind.
The touch wasn't forceful, but it was enough to make Mizuki look up in surprise.
And there was Danzo, expression as unreadable as ever, eyes fixed firmly on Kushina. No smile, no words—just a brief eye contact and his presence alone, grounding.
But to Mizuki, it felt like a lifeline in the middle of a storm.
Suddenly, her breath came easier. The pressure on her chest loosened. The roaring in her ears began to fade.
She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Danzo-sensei…" she murmured.
Danzo didn't respond, simply kept his gaze forward. But for Mizuki, that was enough. She knew—in a world so cruel and manipulative—small gestures like this were rare, and therefore, deeply precious.
'He might never admit he cares… but I know. He does.'
From the other side of the room, Hiruzen Sarutobi observed the quiet moment.
He said nothing, only exhaled softly—a warm glint in his eyes, a faint smile appearing on his face.
'He still has a heart…'
Hiruzen remembered clearly when Danzo first proposed the formation of the ROOT division—a shadow unit training nameless, emotionless shinobi to serve only the village's stability.
Back then, Hiruzen feared his childhood friend would lose himself. Become something no longer human.
But seeing Danzo today… seeing how the man known for cruelty and coldness laid his hand on a child's shoulder with hidden warmth—it gave him hope.
'Taking on a student… might've been the best decision he ever made,' Hiruzen thought, glancing at Mizuki who now stood a little straighter.
Meanwhile, Kushina began to bite her lower lip, her face growing paler.
"It hurts… but I won't give up…" she muttered. Her eyes welled with tears, but they didn't fall. "I… have to be strong…"
Mito Uzumaki, sitting directly in front of her, began to activate the main seal. Her hands trembled—age had made her body fragile, but her eyes remained calm. She had lived with the Kyūbi inside her for decades. Now it was time to let that burden go.
"Kushina," Mito spoke softly, her voice like an old breeze, "remember this—the Kyūbi's hatred will try to consume you. But as long as your heart remains strong… you will not lose."
Kushina stared at her with wide eyes. "But how do I know if my heart is strong enough…?"
Mito gave a weak smile. "If you can still ask that question… it means you haven't lost."
The seal began to glow brightly. Rings of light radiated from Mito's body to Kushina. A faint beastly howl echoed through the room—the chakra of the Kyūbi being drawn out.
Vibrations swept the chamber like a mild quake. Wind spiraled. Blue fire flickered at the edge of the seal.
And Mizuki could only stand there, watching it all—unable to help, unable to move.
Yet beyond the fear and pressure, she knew one thing:
This was history. This was the moment that would change their village.
And she… was a witness to it all.
A few days after the Kyūbi's transfer, the village had begun to return to normal. Civilians knew little of what had transpired.
But behind the soundproof walls of an old traditional-style Konoha house—in the residence of Shimura Danzo—a significant conversation was taking place.
A vintage chandelier cast a warm yellow glow, creating soft shadows across the old wooden walls. The room was silent, save for the wind whistling through the wooden window slats.
Mizuki sat upright in a perfect seiza position, back straight, hands resting politely on her lap. Her face was calm, but attentive.
In front of her, Danzo sat cross-legged in a relaxed yet commanding posture. His face was as always—cold, nearly expressionless.
But behind those dark eyes, Danzo's mind was constantly working.
"You performed well back then," he began. His voice was low and flat, but enough to make Mizuki raise her gaze slightly.
"Thank you, Danzo-sensei," Mizuki replied softly and respectfully.
Danzo closed his eyes for a moment, then said slowly, "But you must understand… your task back then was merely to observe Kushina's psychological state. Not to ensure her safety."
Mizuki stayed silent. She didn't object or look confused. She simply waited respectfully for his next words.
"As for her protection," Danzo continued, opening one eye, "that is the responsibility of the Anbu. It's not that I don't trust ROOT. But they… are not yet worthy."
His voice carried more weight at the end of that sentence. No anger—just a difficult admission from a man like him.
"ROOT right now is merely… a hollow shell. A shadow of what it should be. Even its strongest members haven't reached elite Jōnin level. They are still 'prospective' Anbu. Still in training. Their minds are fragile. Their movements too rigid. They are not ready to handle a jinchūriki…"
Danzo looked Mizuki straight in the eyes and said quietly but firmly, 'And you… are far too valuable to be thrown away just to protect someone—even if that someone is the Hokage.'
Though those last words were never spoken aloud.
Danzo's face remained cold, nearly frozen, as usual. He was too stubborn, too tsundere, to say something truly from the heart.
Of course, Mizuki didn't know. Or maybe… she pretended not to know.
In any case, she simply nodded quietly.
"Understood, Danzo-sensei," Mizuki said softly, calm as water flowing beneath ice.
That response—with no hesitation or justification—made Danzo pause briefly.
He observed Mizuki's demeanor. Not blindly obedient. Not arrogantly clever. She knew when to speak and when to listen. When to voice an opinion and when to wait.
'She is not a tool without emotion. But neither is she a spoiled child who speaks thoughtlessly. Mizuki… truly is the future of Konoha.'
Silence filled the room for several seconds. Then, slowly, Danzo stood, walked to a dark wooden shelf at the side of the room, and pulled out a wooden box.
He opened the lid and took out a small dark blue scroll with a red seal at its end.
"Mizuki."
The girl immediately straightened up, bowing her head lightly in readiness.
Danzo placed the scroll in front of her.
"This is the Kage Bunshin no Jutsu. B-rank technique. Created by my teacher, Tobirama-sensei."
Mizuki stared at the scroll for a moment, her breath catching.
"I believe it's time you had it. In my eyes, you are already more than qualified to be a chūnin—in both strength and mentality."
Slowly, Mizuki took the scroll with both hands, lifting it respectfully before bowing deeply.
"I… I don't know what to say, Danzo-sensei…" her voice nearly shook. "I'm truly grateful."
For a B-rank Ninjutsu, it wouldn't be difficult for someone like Mizuki—main branch Hyuga—to acquire it.
But this gesture was symbolic. It meant Mizuki was now 100% acknowledged as Danzo's successor.
Danzo gave a small nod, then turned his face away.
"Study it well. This jutsu… is more than just a combat technique."
Mizuki nodded. Being given this directly by Danzo meant the responsibility had become a part of her.
In that dim room, two seemingly opposite figures—a wounded, uncertain middle-aged man, and a young girl with a soul older than her years—shared a rare moment.
There were no smiles. No hugs. No sweet words.
But a subtle warmth lingered in the air between them. Warm and sincere—perhaps the only kind of affection they could understand or accept.