Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Author's Notes: Well. It's been rewritten at the advice of someone I trust very much. Don't have much else to say. Except that…I think he was right.

Lost Years: Chapter Two

Suitable quarters for the Kyuubi child had been finished before he'd even arrived, of course. It had been a simple matter of assembling a permanent cradle in an unused room and finding a Root kunoichi capable of giving milk. Itachi had probably ordered both; no one else was likely to have made arrangements without asking Danzo's permission. The Uchiha scion always did expect victory in Root's endeavors, though at least he'd had the foresight to have the room empty when Danzo arrived, baby in arm.

Later, Danzo would modify the room for his specific needs, but for the moment, it would have to do. As he reclined on the visitor's chair of the makeshift nursery, watching the baby human form of the Kyuubi sleep, he couldn't help but let his mind drift. It was amazing that the Yondaime had been able to conjure such a perfect human simulacra for the demon to inhabit. Amazing, and suspicious. The Fourth had never been noted for extreme medical knowledge, and the baby's only "off" characteristic was the full head of blond hair.

A sudden itch broke the train of thought. He raised his left arm to scratch at his face, but caught himself before he'd begun to scrape the fragile, growing skin on his burned face. He moved the arm a bit and gently massaged the bandaged area over what had been the torn ruin of his right eye. Somewhat unsurprisingly, he found his thoughts wandering to the day that had destroyed his face and his right arm.

It wasn't a hard day to recall. After all, it had only happened two days ago.

Two days ago...

He hadn't been in the field for years, but on a night like tonight, he had to be. Even if he wasn't at the front, Root needed to be able to see their commander doing more than hiding in a shelter. Besides, fleeing from the Kyuubi, the single greatest threat to the village in decades, would strike a mortal blow to his pride.

From his current position in the boughs of a massive oak, halfway between the battle and Konoha, he was perfectly positioned to relay orders. Groups headed out to the battle could be given messages and the steady trickle of wounded kept him well aware of the futility of the fight. He'd just finished redirecting a retreating group of wounded shinobi to a hastily formed bivouac not five minutes ago when he saw her.

If Hyuuga Masaru, his only agent in that most noble of families, hadn't been among that group of wounded, maybe he would have paid more attention. As it was, he was distracted with the potential complications of replacing Masaru, and gave the woman little more than a cursory inspection.

Her waist-length red hair was tangled and knotted, and her face was smudged with smoke. The dark blue kimono she wore had been completely ripped off at mid-thigh, and by the frantic way she was running, he guessed it was intentional. He didn't recognize her, so she wasn't Konoha shinobi.

Maybe he'd have paid more attention if he hadn't been cursing all stupid civilians under his breath. Maybe if he hadn't dealt with a dozen thrill-seekers already, he'd have noticed that she wasn't out of breath, or that she moved with enough awareness of her body that her long hair never snagged on anything.

But, maybe was only maybe. He'd never counted on it, so lamenting it didn't make much sense either.

He appeared in front of her in a swirl of Shunshin-accompanied leaves, pure white ANBU mask gleaming in the dim light of the sunset. Never let it be said that Danzo didn't have a flare for the dramatic.

"Hold, woman," he barked, voice hoarse after an entire day of yelling and smoke inhalation.

She skittered to a halt, blinking slowly like a deer caught in the headlights. Her posture was confused, but unguarded. There hadn't been any indications of dropping into a fighting position…or maybe he was just reading too much into it, trying to assuage his self-doubt.

The endlessly repeated, by now almost ritualistic words of warning fell from bored lips, and he half hoped she'd decide to be fun. "By order of the ruling bodies of Konohagakure no Sato, civilians are not allowed beyond this point."

"W-why? I was just…" she trailed off nervously, staring at the blank visage of the ANBU mask. At the time, he'd thought he'd intimidated her, and had been disappointed at how easy it had been.

He crossed his arms and sighed to himself. "Right," he began sarcastically. "You just happened to wander directly towards the engagement point, and have no idea what's over there. You don't know what I'm talking about, or that a demon the size of the Hokage Monument is less than an hour away, despite almost six months of warnings, oh no."

Danzo had known about the approach of the demon for almost a year, but then, he was uniquely placed to have such information.

He uncrossed his arms and waved a hand back in the direction of Konoha. "Go home. This is not a spectator event, and God damnit tell that to all the other idiots you see on the way back. We have enough to deal with without sending valuable men to herd people stupider than sheep. At least sheep don't run towards the wolf." The last had been said just loud enough for her to hear, and wonder if it was intentional. (It was.)

"My son is out there, damnit!" she yelled, hands balling into fists.

Danzo tensed, head straightening as he studied her carefully. The game had changed. Lost kids were something he couldn't actively ignore…unless her son was a genin? He asked, "Civilian?" to make sure.

She nodded.

'God damnit,' he thought. 'As if I didn't have enough to deal with.' Still, he could probably just fob her off with directions to the bivouac. If Masaru was conscious, he might be able to locate the child. Or not. Either way, he'd have done his duty and be free from blame if anything happened to her or the child. It was, as far as he was concerned, the perfect solution.

He opened his mouth to give her directions, and the world exploded. The earth shook like a stormy sea, and for an instant, he was caught flat footed, unprepared for the latest Kyuubi shockwave. His aging body betrayed him, and was unable to focus on maintaining his balance. As his vision spun, he saw the woman surrounded by a familiar blue glow.

'Kunoichi!'

In his distraction, he didn't hear the sound of a roots tearing from the ground behind him. The massive, now-burning oak fell directly on his back, crushing him to the ground. The wind was driven from his lungs, and searing heat enveloped him, scorching his flesh. Jagged lances of pain speared through his back. He gasped like a landed fish and inhaled only smoke.

His head hit the dry, scorched earth with incredible force, shattering his ANBU mask into porcelain shards that cut deeply into his face. Blood covered his eyes, and he froze at his sudden blindness. To any normal person, hysteria would have been absolute, but pain was a familiar, fleeting acquaintance of Danzo's, and its burning kiss cleared the fog of confused surprise from his mind.

He coughed to clear his throat, and then dipped his head forward to breathe through the singed grass. It wasn't easy, but he managed to get enough air back to slow the dizziness in his head. Now he could begin to try and see how badly he'd been damaged.

He quickly found that his right arm was shattered; he could feel the bone protruding skyward from his arm in several places, as if it had seized upon a mad dream of becoming a bloody flower. His left arm was pinned beneath him, and he couldn't feel his legs. Rescuing himself from the burning oak would be an exercise in futility. But thankfully, he wasn't alone.

"Woman," he croaked, voice strained from smoke and a slowly collapsing rib cage. "I saw your jutsu. You're shinobi." Decades of training let his hears pick up the hitch in her breath over the roar of the flames. "I need your help," he continued, ignoring his pride. Right now, his body hurt worse. "Get this thing off me."

"I-I-I c-can't!" she stammered in response. He swiveled his head in the direction of the voice with some difficulty, obstructed as he was.

"I saw…your jutsu," he answered, the crushing weight of the tree beginning to get the best of him. "Stop lying." He was almost fifty damnit, he should be yelling at some teenager for being stupid enough to get trapped like this.

Silence was his only response. Damnit, he didn't have time for this! She wasn't a Konoha nin, but she hadn't tried to kill him, so she was the best he had to work with. But if she couldn't (or wouldn't) lift the tree…

"Bivouac a kilometer west. Hyuuga there. He'll find your kid. Get help for me," he grunted. With every word, he lost a little bit more air, and the tree all but prevented him from drawing breath.

The only response was the slow crackle of flames licking at his back. He had heard no receding footsteps; she was still there.

"Go!" he gasped, pinned arm clawing at the earth in a hopeless attempt to get himself more breathing room. She still didn't say anything, and he briefly thought that he might die here, watched only by an idiotic redhead.

Danzo had been about to yell again when she responded. "No," she answered, voice shaky but resolute.

With the last of his air he whisper-screamed, "Why?"

"You would stop me," she answered quietly. Before he could respond, she ran, feet pounding against the burned foliage of the formerly pristine Konoha woodland. Over his own pained breaths he heard her yell, "I have to help my son!"

He would have sighed in resignation to his fate, but he didn't quit that easily and sighing was a waste of precious air. Danzo had been through hell for Konoha. He'd served as a shinobi for almost his entire life, and it had been a long one by ninja standards. As the lack of oxygen began to set in, his body slowly became numb. He only managed to wish that he'd had a better death. Getting stuck beneath a tree was such an amateur move…

In the end, only the devotion of Masaru had saved him. The Hyuuga had information to report, and had insisted on delivering it to his Commander in person. Against all medical advice, he'd activated the Byakugan in search of Danzo.

The tenketsou in Masaru's eyes had literally exploded after thirty seconds. He'd still searched for the Commander, eyes fountaining blood, mind fogged with deeply ingrained obedience that let him ignore what must have been agonizing pain.

A mere five minutes after the woman had left, Root had arrived. They hadn't been able to save his arm or his eye, but that hardly affected his position as Commander. Root was a weapon for Konoha, a trained dog that answered to his commands.

Masaru had made no mention of the woman before his death the next morning, and neither had Danzo, preferring to keep his minor failing private. The tendrils of Root stretched out far and wide into the underground of the Elemental Countries, and he would find the woman. Maybe not this year, but eventually. His fist clenched eagerly at the thought.

He roused himself from the past only when his fingernails drew blood from his palm. He blinked, the glowing red numbers of the wall clock glaring at him accusingly for wasting so much time in the past.

Danzo slowly raised himself from the chair, crutch held with no small degree of confidence. It was, just like anything, a potential weapon, and he knew weapons. Speaking of weapons…

"Sleep well," he called over his shoulder to the Kyuubi infant, who squirmed in his slumber at Danzo's voice. As the door closed between him and the Kyuubi child, Danzo whispered an old curse quietly. "You have an interesting life ahead of you."

But even as he tried to distract himself with thoughts of Root's latest acquisition, he couldn't help but wonder what had become of that red haired kunoichi.