Danzō's Fall

Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money off this story.

Warning: Morbid Content. Reader discretion is advised.

AN: Written at the cheeky request of 'Last Falconry'.

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There were no drums of war this time and no sounds of drums rolling through the wind, piercing it with a might that would shatter murmurings of men and galvanize them to draw their swords and strike at their foes with violence. Red would flow, and the heat of the battle would rise . . . to a crescendo and fade away with the final fall of a victor's sword.

A cool wind rushed through him, his shirt rippling. Red had come out moments ago to bleed from his eyes. He would drown him here in an ocean of red, defeat them all, and scrub clean the name of the fallen in the wake of his brother's shadow. Yes, it would begin here, before the swelling screams of Konoha's innocents would stab the air to mimic his clan's tragedy just like that night: the moon was high and blood was spilt in the name of this theater's banner. All actors. All plays.

He had to say that he was surprised at the sight of him: he had never expected the man to be so feeble and old: deep grooves mapped his dry skin whose musty odour proclaimed it to be beyond his time of youth. He was a food that had gone rotten. His body was not stiff, but a bundle of aged parts put together with the refreshing oil from a dastardly chakra—Uchiha and Senju, a foul mixture. It was not anything like his clan's. No, it was weak and haggard, an old toy discarded by the young hands of Nature.

But who would pick him up now but him? An abject arrogance permeated the man's old, old face—and why would it not? He had the anchor of Uchiha clan's, his clan's, eyes staring at him from his arm they thought to be their face. They missed the presence of mouths, and if they had been granted tongues, they would have spoken of their woes before him. So silently they told and quietly he listened—to the soundless words of their sad and spectral mouths that lacked the forms Men possessed.

Grim shadows were dim in this light. Sun was high, and then it was low as it shone behind the curved back he had straightened with a fake stubbornness to appear resolute and faultless and brave, but Sasuke could see the uncertainty of his tripping heart and the lies quivering upon his tongue. His shadow had grown weaker, thinner before his own.

Susanoo came out of him as though an airy ghost, ready to fend off his attacks, but a war was waging inside the old man's crooked form. A whirlwind of invigorating chakra from Hashirama's cells and Uchiha eyes sped through his body like fire. It went here and it went there, imbuing his old, old frame with a flame of youth. Bones shuddered, flesh quivered, and all of his mortal coil sang in union.

Danzō had asked Orochimaru to merge the intricacies of the Byakugō-Seal with the way Hashirama's cells worked. Potent Uchiha chakra was to become that chemical of change. He had felt himself come closer to his youth in the previous days: his muscles tightened, legs grew strong, and body got robust; and if he was honest with himself, then his penis was less shriveled and his scrotum, less loose. He even felt his cock harden at the smell that came from between Tsunade's thighs on that hot summer's day. These were sure signs of youth—they had to be!

And he smiled, and that elicited a frown and a feral growl from the young man. He had come to him with a thirst for vengeance in his breast, and Danzō knew he would not leave here without his head. Well, that made two of them. The hot-headed youth, Uchiha Sasuke, would just have to quench his own in the afterlife, after he got reunited with his beloved brother!

Ah, such stabs of delight, from chakra fresh, scurried up and down his body and tightened into a hot ball inside his gut. His dusty-old frame metamorphosed and changed in the red of Sasuke's vision; and slowly, it began to slip back through Time to take on the form he once possessed: wrinkled skin grew taut, moulding itself to his muscles and bones so perfectly, as a wet dress does a gleaming flesh of youth.

Skin, such smooth skin, smoother than he had hoped, grew a little red with the flush of heat—tricks of youth! He clenched his fingers into hard fists, and his bones no longer ached. Surprise . . . that was all that was there in the youth's face, and the red was fading there fast. It probably could not fathom the sight of him—no one would. Danzō would triumph over him here and take his head through the Leaf's gates with his own head held high.

Sasuke's face went from angry to curious, too curious. He looked amazed no longer, and there was this touch of mad amusement in his face and eyes. They blazed red again, angry furnaces softened just a bit by an irresponsible love. Danzō could not understand how he did not see fear smeared on Sasuke's face and stabbed deep into his eyes. He would soon know what it meant to be flippant in the face of death.

But Danzō did not seem to care. His youth was returning fast, stabbing at his heart to beat out a new and warm tune. The heat was unbearable. It was burning his loins, and he felt himself get hard at the male-musk Sasuke exuded. It excited him. Itachi's face and tight buttocks came to his mind, and he had to admit that he felt something for the young man ever since he laid his eyes on him—desires that attacked his genitals to give forth a little gush of arousal that was not enough to even wet the little edge of his pinky-finger. How age had failed him . . .

It was different now. The heat was strong, unbearable, and his breast swelled with a triumphed laughter he could not quite contain any longer, but when he emitted it in a heady daze, his eyes went wide with shame: it was soft and lilting like a woman's! It rippled through the air, a soft musical note, and Sasuke's brows rose in such a bizarre expression—what was happening?

Danzō slapped the sides of his cheeks and found them to be soft and supple. He brushed his fingers over the sides and realized that the hairs there were too small and fine to belong to a man. He slapped them again, just making sure, and felt them jiggle with a youthful suppleness. They were soft like silk and rosy like petals and warm like freshly baked loaves of bread.

He looked down, eyes widening in horror as fleshy round masses grew beneath his kimono. He snuck a gaze and saw them tighten at the peach-crests. Was he even a man anymore? He still had his cock and . . . and he could not quite complete the thought as a hard thing slid down from between his thighs like a firm, hot stool. It fell down by his feet—and he heard a resounding thud in his head and his whole world went up in flames—carrying a copious amount of slime at the head. He finally made peace with himself that it was Itachi's Akatsuki cloak that day that had roused the infernal beast out of him, not Tsunade's thighs. Danzō was made by Nature to be a make-believe lady's man, and a man's lady—no more, no less.

He breathed in deep at the sight of the beautiful man and dust shot into his lungs, along with his decadent, sinful scent. Temptations attacked his heart, and he felt his slit quiver in need of a cock. He had turned into a woman—a trollop in heat! If Hiruzen was seeing her now, and he better be, then he would weep from his crown, too, at the sight of her desirous, feminine body plunge itself into the torments of flesh.

Danzō ripped open her kimono and revealed her young form to the caressing hands of wind and Sasuke's appraising eyes: her skin was the colour of milk; her breasts were supple; her buttocks, round and firm; a string of mucus hung between the round flare of her inner thighs. Was Sasuke satisfied that Danzō was in mad heat for him and his Uchiha cock?

Her concupiscent thoughts strayed from one thing to another, and she did not know when she closed that gap between them. Then she went down on her knees like a well-paid harlot to stare up at Sasuke's bearing that was as regal and fine as a deity's. He was a lucky woman! The Sharingans in her arms slumbered now, over-taken and beaten into submission by her womanly lust.

Danzō's hands shook as she reached for the purple rope-belt. She undid the hard knot there and the cloth fell away. It was there in his pants, awaiting her touch. She craned her neck and cast him a hesitant glance. It did not seem like Sasuke wanted to stop her. Oh, the humiliation! She would have him in her mouth like a good-little-whore if that was the last thing she would ever do!

Danzō licked her plump lips, spit glazing them like candied strawberries, and unzipped the front of Sasuke's pants. The thing was just rousing out of its deep slumber at the sight of her: it needed the motivation. So she bent forward, brow knitted in concentration, and did what she had dreamt of doing to Itachi's baby-cock, which had yet to discover the wonders of erection when he set foot in ANBU, all those moons past; her jaws opened wide the way a whale's did to gulp in tons of water, and in a second, they were on his ripe genitals.

Her face was level with the few coarse hair above Sasuke's shaft. Danzō was suckling it now, good and hard. She pulled her head back and relished the salty taste of youth in her mouth, recalling the spirit and exuberance of youth Gai always blabbered about. He was not wrong! Then she lifted her head to meet his iron-hot cock and sinuous lips slipped up his length; Danzō felt it press against her throat and she groaned.

Danzō caught the tender rim of his cock and a jet of semen hit the back of her throat. Her eyes were immense, sparkling. He gushed still more and held her head in place—hands wrapped tight in her lush, curly hair as his cock hammered her throat raw. Her pink cheeks turned rounder, fuller with his arousal that went backwards and upwards into her nostrils. The white of him came out of her aquiline nose. Sasuke thrust with a quick and hard rhythm a few times, and his lips pressed together in concentration.

Danzō gagged around him, and her lust-filled, mischievous eyes rolled back into her head. The eye patch was stained with semen now. Sasuke finally pulled back and dragged out a viscous string of semen from her mouth: a thick gob of it hung down from the tip of her small chin. He had spent himself in her good, but it was not fair. Danzō was still aching, needing between her legs, and she needed that cock inside her . . . now!

So she turned away and went down on all-fours and crawled backwards. She rubbed her engorged clit against his taut crown, let out a gentle cry in anticipation, and shook her buttocks like a bitch-in-heat. Her lips were big and fat, wet with lust—slit ready to take all of him in.

Sasuke obliged; he, too, went down on his knees, instinct guiding him, grabbed hold of her cushy buttocks, and pushed his hips forward. He sank his cock deep into Danzō's warm and wet hole. A cry tore from her throat, spit and semen flying from her mouth.

Her corpulent breasts bounced from his movements. She grunted and felt his surges from the deep recesses of her hot cunt. Sasuke was throbbing, thrusting furtively with pure animal instinct. His hands roamed the soft expanse her buttocks, and then he smacked her hard. The cheek jiggled and turned red; she moaned and sensed vibrations travel through her skin.

Danzō's pussy quivered—Sasuke plunged in deeper and deeper still. He bent forward, and his hands slid down to rest on her waist. The curve in her back deepened, and sweat collected into the hollow as she pressed her breasts against the dusty ground. Translucent droplets rolled down to increase the moisture between her buttocks. He slapped her again at the same spot, and the mark glared against the glistening white skin.

Each of Sasuke's powerful thrusts propelled her forward, and her body shook frantically in pleasure. He was close—so close. Her breasts bounced wildly, dotted with innumerable beads of sweat that splashed off her slick skin to fall down on the stone-bridge. It was a decisive battle and he had won and he had gone in deep; he had done her in, and she was his whore, his bitch for life!

The thought filled her with so much pride. The taste of Uchiha cock was still fresh on her tongue and sweet on her lips. Orochimaru may have tricked Danzō in hopes of relishing a cruel joke, but she was not sorry! Sasuke's cock was hers, and her cunt of glory, his eternal dumpster.

Sasuke pounded into her tight cunnie now. He titled his head back and closed his eyes, pleasure flickering across his face. At last, he hit something deep inside her: Danzō's toes curled and she screamed and her cunt trembled around his pulsing cock. Another climax hit Sasuke hard. She pulled her legs apart, and he slammed upwards one last time, his arousal gushing out of her cunt and sliding down her smooth thighs.

Potent Uchiha chakra went in deep, and the blinking eyes in her arm, together with the Mokuton-chakra still slumbering in her body, reacted violently to the sudden intrusion. Sasuke's softening cock slipped down, and from her dripping cunt and her wrinkled arsehole, came out such lush roots. They began to grow out of her toes, too.

Danzō was transforming after the high of the spill. Her mouth opened wide, and instead of a scream of contentment, out came more branches. Her small waist hardened and turned into a trunk; her legs were two thick branches burrowing their way into the stones to sow their love-seed . . . somewhere.

Sasuke zipped himself up and stepped back. The heat of a good rutting session was fading away. His Sharingan was out. He saw Mokuton overtake her whole body, and in mere seconds, Danzō turned into a lush tree that quivered in the breeze. Sasuke turned away with an impassive face and stopped at the sight of Karin and Obito . . . they hastily pulled their hands out of their pants, wiped them clean on their robes, and muttered out a hoarse 'good job'.

It was a strange day . . .

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The End