Displaced
Act I— A Complicated Truth.
This way comes death—
It claws at your heart and your brain,
And it rattles your breath.
I stood out and looked at the city of vermin and flame,
And knew that I'd never see this precious life again.
One more time, tell me this is madness.
(I already know.)
Tell me I am going to die fighting for the impossible.
(I don't believe in fate.)
See if I change my mind.
(Not even death will stop me.)
I go through the list of supplies automatically, hands flitting over the items I've selected and secreted away on my person. Kunai, shuriken... More than enough for what I plan to do. Two spare tanto, sealed away in different pockets, the seal keyed to my chakra, in addition to my usual blade. The gift I'd received from Itachi over two years ago is secure in the scabbard slung low on my back. Enough explosive notes to level a village… maybe two. Depends on the village. Check— thank you Naruto's overzealousness. A scroll containing enough medical supplies to patch up two dozen critically injured shinobi with minimal chakra use. Check. A rebreather for when we release aerosolized poisons. I could do without it, but why waste energy? Check.
I've already decided against wearing the heavier armor that is part of my ANBU uniform, setting aside even my chuunin vest; understandable, as I prefer to depend on speed and precision over brute strength. As for the rest of my attire, it is reinforced, designed to be both durable and lightweight, as is standard for all ninja wear.
Outfitting oneself for war is surprisingly easy.
...Also, my thoughts are becoming increasingly more absurd. Attempting to distract yourself, Sasuke?
Ino and Shino watch my obsessive preparations with quiet resignation, their eyes following me as I pace around my room. Everything that can be said on the topic already has been.
Yes, I'm being rash, I acknowledge internally. I refuse to let that stop me. I have tried using more careful, more legal methods, and found myself rebuffed. A spike of rage makes my hands pause while tucking senbon into my braid. This is the only choice left, the only option open to me that I find palatable— raze Danzou's hideaways to the ground and cut down whoever opposes me, until the man deems it appropriate to face me himself.
I am— we are going to kill Shimura Danzou.
And fuck the consequences.
I'm ready.
Pivoting in place, I snag a hooded cloak from my bed, and toss it over my back, pinning it in place under my throat. I let my gaze scan over Ino and Shino one last time, before nodding resolutely. Both are dressed similarly, their usual attire hidden under cloaks a shade of murky gray.
"I'm going." This is your last chance to back out.
A weak smile from Ino. "Yeah. Let's go... You know, we're lucky Shino is paranoid enough to keep track of your leave hours. Or this would have been hell of a lot more complicated to arrange." Shino rolls his eyes but maintains his silence.
We start by raiding Root bases located on the borders of Hi no Kuni, hoping to minimize the chances of a direct confrontation within Konoha proper, moving closer to the village in a spiral, a gradually tightening circle with our home at the center.
The further from Konoha we are when we confront Danzou, the greater the likelihood this little indiscretion remains a secret, if an open one to the shinobi of Konoha. That is, assuming we succeed. I'd rather our actions not become public knowledge if at all possible.
And if we fail?
Then to hell with it all; half of the people that matter—that I care about— will be dead, or as good as. And the salamanders will deliver every minuscule detail of the information I've managed to collect over the past decade— the truth of the Uchiha massacre, Danzou's machinations, his appropriation of clan children after the official termination of the Root program— and deliver copies to every clan head in Konoha, to every department head, will cover the walls of ANBU headquarters with the truth. It will even be delivered to the Damiyou's court.
It's terribly petty of me, I know. Even in death I will have a small measure of revenge.
If we live, there will be people that suspect the truth— Kakashi-sensei, the Godaime and Sandaime Hokage... but if we can purge the area of proof before ANBU arrive to investigate? Plausible deniability. Maybe crazy Team 7 just got a little overzealous training outside of the village. The Uchiha has been on a hair trigger for weeks, didn't you hear?
Better for everyone that way.
And yet, the thought of so much death, of killing people that are little more than puppets dancing to that man's tune, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
How different from Itachi am I, really?
The first few attacks... The result of our strategy is less a battle and more an outright slaughter, and Root are slow to adapt.
Our familiarity with the layout of Danzou's smaller bases makes locating hidden entrances and exits a relatively straightforward task. Most have fuuinjutsu-based locks on the doors, created by the same individual, perhaps even Danzou himself. That means a similar chakra signature. A chakra signature that Shino's kikkaichu can hone in on. Even the air vents— a necessity, as all the bases we have found so far are located underground— are protected with seals.
But we don't need to get in; fighting someone on even grounds, or on a battleground they are more familiar with is phenomenally stupid. We just need to limit their escape routes, funneling our opponents straight into a trap.
We monitor for guards, determine shift changes, and repurpose the traps originally intended to waylay intruders, before adding our own traps around the exits— explosive notes, genjutsu, razor-sharp wire— all lethal. Other exits, we rig landslides or block with boulders. There is no escape.
Sometimes, after Shino's allies report on numbers, I use the vents to fill their air with lethal poison. Sometimes, Ino steals a Root member's body— it is far easier to mimic an emotionless drone than a normal civilian or shinobi— and poisons their food supply or even kills everyone in their sleep. No killing intent, no abnormal sounds, no impetus to wake from a deep slumber... and then they never wake again.
Afterwards, we reduce each base to little more than rubble. Through flames, through explosives, or through an all-consuming swamp created by Shino. All that we leave behind is a sample of Amaterasu; a fist-sized ball of black flames left burning for seven days and seven nights at the center of every ruined bunker.
Danzou will understand the message.
Three days in to my self-appointed task, we come across a compound that has already been razed to the ground, but not by us. The flicker of flames, black as night, left at the center of a large crater reveals the identity of out ally.
Itachi-nii... You decided to help after all.
Releasing a slow, contented smile, I murmur, "Interesting." Shino coughs softly, and pointedly glances to the side. His meaning is clear. We need to get going. Ino slings an arm around my torso and grins wickedly, saying in an unnerving sing-song tone, "Looks like we have backup!"
We turn and hastily depart; there is no knowing if Danzou's operatives have found that this particular hideaway is ruined yet. No need to dally at the scene of the crime, so to speak.
And so, the slaughter continues. Regardless of the ruthless efficiency of Root operatives— we have at least as much talent, and a far more compelling reason to fight. Skill, trickery and will, so far, have triumphed over numbers. A week into our campaign, we face more formidable opponents; a pair of Root ANBU survive our initial attempts on the latest base.
Shaded goggles meet sunglasses as the two Aburame observe each other from across the impromptu battlefield. This is far from the first time he fights another Aburame. It is the first time he knows from the beginning that the battle will likely end in death.
No.
A death is inevitable here; neither can afford to lose.
Kikaichuu scurry from his opponent's sleeves, a small, humming cloud gathering around him.
I am sorry, Shino. He admits, before ruthlessly suppressing the emotion that rushes in at the thought that the boy he loved like a brother will die by his hand. Less than a second of hesitation. For Danzou-sama and for Konoha. Torune draws the ninjato from the sheath slung on his back.
His blade nicks the edge of Shino's sleeve before it is met with a kunai.
His opponent's eyes narrow, the change in expression barely discernible behind sunglasses and the tall collar of his coat. "Rinkaichuu." Shino backtracks, discarding the kunai almost immediately, likely having noticed the light purple sheen to Torune's ninjato. Unfortunately, even the few seconds of close contact that occurred is enough for the insects to spread to the younger Aburame's clothes. He sheds his bulky cloak with haste, before the flightless, flea-like insects have time to spread to his skin. "An interesting conundrum."
As sharp as always.
"Very good." Torune intones emotionlessly, "Then you know fighting me is futile."
"How insulting." Shino retorts, but does not elaborate.
Pride? Torune wonders. He'd kept an eye on his younger cousin's progress as much as possible but has, at best, a rudimentary knowledge of his skills. His work for Danzou-sama comes first. "If that is the case, I will not insult you by holding back, Aburame Shino." Ninjato gripped in one hand, he divests the other of its glove using his teeth, before switching the blade to his other hand and shedding the other glove.
"Shall we?"
A Doton jutsu cracks the dry earth beneath his feet, and Torune leaps forward. Shino backtracks, tossing a quartet of kunai that Torune deflects with ease, glancing them off his ninjato.
The ground rebels again, this time lurching upwards to form shark spikes, as Shino uses Doton: Ganchuusou.
A quick backflip has Torune out of range of the jutsu.
It would be wiser for you to retreat and regroup with your teammates instead of wasting chakra.
Another flurry of kunai—he dodges these entirely, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. Again? Or, perhaps… herding me?
Knees bending slightly as he braces to begin another rush, he feels the trap as it is sprung. Loops of razor-sharp ninja wire dig into both ankles.
Shino, you—
The meaty thunk of kunai embedding into flesh.
"Checkmate."
I severely underestimated you, Shino-kun.
A sharp pain on the left side of his chest and in his thigh. Collapsed lung, internal bleeding, he analyzes, and a penetrating injury that likely severed the left femoral artery. There is no point in attempting to stem the bleeding; I will die within minutes regardless.
"Kikaichuu may not be as inherently lethal as rinkaichuu," Shino intones solemnly, "but they are more versatile... I am more than the sum of my allies."
"I see." Kunai to distribute the wire, kikaichuu to weave the trap into place, and Doton jutsu to draw my attention.
Harsh coughs derail his thoughts, forcing Torune to his knees. Forgive me, Danzou-sama. Despite your teachings, I was distracted. I couldn't— As the older Aburame struggles for breath, he turns his head towards Shino, "If I had to lose, I am glad it was to you, Shino-kun. I am... happy to see you again." A final breath rattles through the Root shinobi's chest and out his bloodied lips, and he falls still.
"Torune." The name is less a whisper and more a sigh. Shino had known, of course. Rinkaichuu users are incredibly rare, and there had been only one in his generation. He knew Torune had volunteered to enter a section of Konoha's forces that dealt almost exclusively in off-the-books missions, but...
He watches the rinkaichuu swarm around their fallen host, attempting to maintain a stoic expression even as his hands clench into fists. Kaikaichu hum in distress, responding to Shino's emotional state.
"Rest well, cousin." Shino intones, hands flowing through the signs of a Katon jutsu designed specifically for this purpose. While he would prefer to keep Torune's body intact, bring him home to the Aburame collective— they cannot risk a colony of kikaichuu emerging in the wild, let alone rinkaichuu. The likelihood of the insects surviving their host's death is minuscule, but it exists.
She glances to the side— the sharingan is already spinning in Sasuke-kun's eyes. Given the shinobi's light coloration and features, it is possible their opponent is a Yamanaka, like her. Although— red-tinted hair is rare in their family, so perhaps half? She pauses, taking a second to let the dormant link between her mind and Sasuke's, established through extended and repeated Yamanaka family jutsu use on her teammate, flare to life.
Sasuke-kun.
Hn?
I will keep this link open; if he is a Yamanaka, he is more likely to attack your mind first.
Then he shall find that we are more than capable of fighting on such a battlefield. Taking the lead?
She smiles then, a cold, calculating thing at odds with her appearance, designed to unsettle her opponent. "Oh? Our new friend looks interesting, don't you think so, Sasuke-kun? ...Let's play a little, hm?"
Sasuke remains silent, barring a quiet chuckle under his breath, likely at her acting, choosing instead to loom a half-step behind her, directing waves of sharp, malicious killing intent at their opponent.
The enemy chooses to attack both their minds at once, attempting to subvert their free will. Ino, while startled at the level of skill, retaliates by yanking his consciousness into their shared mindscape, leaving all three ninja with limited awareness of their surroundings. A dangerous prospect, were it not for several of Shino's kikkaichu present on their persons— the insects have been trained to signal an alert by fluctuating their chakra and then bite if they sensed killing intent from an unfamiliar source while Ino or Sasuke were asleep, or incapacitated.
The sensation caused by shifting from consciousness to the dream-like state needed for mind-walking is a jarring, but familiar one. Both she and the intruder recover immediately.
The landscape is a bizarre amalgamation of different versions of Konoha. An unfamiliar warren of a building with stone walls, carved with the familiar leaf-like sigil, blends seamlessly into her favorite field of wildflowers, which backs into the Uchiha compound, razed to the ground barring a few select buildings— likely Sasuke's contribution.
Ino ponders the strangeness of a taijutsu battle held in a mindscape, where rules are more... flexible.
Sasuke attacks from the left, but is redirected by their opponent, and lands, upside down, on the roof of a stone hallway... or is it tunnel?
Their opponent's strikes come quickly— but never as swiftly as Anko-sensei's serpents.
Grass clings to the unknown Yamanaka's feet when they wander into her subsection of the mindscape, an attempt to hinder his mobility that ultimately fails.
She finds that the enemy learns from her attempts, each time she manipulates their shared mental battleground, he adapts, learning her tricks.
Regardless, the battle of attrition eventually ends in her favor; Ino's skill with mind-based jutsu, combined with Sasuke's knack for genjutsu, eventually overpower their enemy.
A deep breath, synchronized, from the pair of younger shinobi as they regain consciousness.
The shell of the unknown Yamanaka falls to the ground silently, eyes empty of all life.
While our actions eventually draw Danzou out, it's not as far from the village as I would like. There are several other opponents, so... Shino, Ino. Please let me handle this one. Thankfully, we're on the same wavelength, so to speak. Shino and Ino exchange a look and split off, intent on leading Danzou's subordinates away.
We meet at the infamous Valley of the End, where Uchiha Madara was defeated for perhaps the final time by his oldest friend and adversary. A battle that shaped the very landscape.
How poetic. But you are no Senju hero, Shimura Danzou. And I am not nearly arrogant enough to call myself the second coming of Uchiha Madara.
I bare my teeth in parody of a smile, "Danzou-sama." I see you received my message. Voice dropping into the lowest register, little more than a rumbling growl, I speak, my tone malevolent and sarcastic in equal measure. "A pleasure as always. I hope I haven't made myself an inconvenience? You see, I merely wish to retrieve something that rightfully belongs to the Uchiha."
Forgive me, Itachi. I cannot wait any longer.
I watch Danzou's uncovered eye for a hint of emotion. The old man is disgruntled, but also amused— or perhaps he merely feigns both. "Hmft. So the so-called 'Last Uchiha' is a traitor. And dragging your genin teammates down with you as well? You left a rather obvious trail."
Eyes narrowing in distaste, even as I don an arrogant smirk tailored to infuriate my opponent, or at the very least show him exactly what he expects, "It served its purpose." You followed us here, that rather was the point.
Enough pleasantries, I think as I make the first move, pupil splitting apart into rapidly spinning tomoe as my eyes change to display an active sharingan.
Everything else, you'll just have to deduce from my actions.
My smirk widens, as thin tendrils of chakra weave into a genjutsu, one designed to confuse and disorient my opponent.
Danzou pauses. His world swims with colors, bizarre shapes, repulsive smells— a nauseating combination meant to be a temporary distraction. An obvious illusion. Within the span of a breath, he has dispelled it.
Those few seconds are long enough for me to draw my sword and come perilously close to bisecting the loathsome old man.
Danzou dodges at the last moment, the tip of my blade splitting the sleeve of his light grey kimono-style top, drawing blood from his left arm.
First blood to me.
Balance shifting, my next attack is a series of lightning-quick stabs, parried by the elder shinobi's cane. Metal at its center. I analyze, then decide— faster. Lightning chakra courses through my nervous system. I move quickly enough to leave an afterimage, which my opponent disperses with a blade of wind, released when he lashes out with his cane.
Heat simmers in my blood and the smirk transforms into a manic smile. Now this is a fight!
Black eye meets the red of my sharingan, and Danzou is swarmed by spiders. Hairy, brown spiders the size of sheep. The venom dripping from their mandibles, scoring the ground with a sinister hiss.
This time, I nearly manage to remove the elder's head before he dispels the genjutsu. A thin, red line appears on his neck, blood beading on skin.
He retreats several feet away, his free arm stripping away the black cloth that mimics a sling covering his 'maimed' arm. I pursue, lightning coursing down my sword— how about this?— only to be blocked again with the cane. Barely. Danzou is forced back a step, sacrificing balance to block my strike more quickly. The wood covering the metal center of his staff is sufficient buffer to prevent a transfer of electricity, but it shatters under the pressure. Ah. Some form of insulation in the cane, as well.
A solid kick to my stomach pushes me back several feet, divesting me of breath. Bastard kicks like a mule!
"Impressive. It seems I will need to use this arm after all." Danzou eases off the dark cloth covering his lame arm and strips away a series of metal braces, revealing it to be bandaged but otherwise unharmed. Shit! I wasn't fast enough.
Bandages are unrolled swiftly, revealing unnaturally pale flesh, almost parchment-white, peppered with false eye sockets containing sharingan eyes. So many eyes... Said eyes twitch in their human-made sockets, their movements aimless. I repress a shudder in visceral, instinctive horror, struggling to keep the unsettlingly predatory smile on my face. Shouldn't there be a massive chakra drain? Kakashi-sensei's eye continuously drains his chakra when active.
"...A thief and an abomination. And you call me a traitor?" Disgust laces my voice. I will end your unsightly existence. Sword slides with a resolute 'shhhick' back into its sheath. Alright, let's try something else.
I redirect the fist rapidly approaching my face to the side, retaliating with a stab of my hand, green chakra scalpel penetrating into Danzou's chest, straight through his heart. The man melts away as if he were a mirage, the presence of a genjutsu tickling my senses. Once again, the Eyes of the Rajuu proves its worth, as I can sense the man's heartbeat—behind me!
I pivot rapidly, crouching to duck under the flurry of kunai released by Danzou, their edges visibly enhanced with wind chakra, using the time to flip though several handseals and take a deep breath. Rising, I spit a Gokakyu no Jutsu the size of a barn, so hot that the fireball flickers white at its core, back in his direction. Again, I rapidly close the distance between us, staying within the shadow of the fireball, ducking to the side when it is cut in two by a vacuum blade.
Ha? So using normal fire against you is asking for trouble. Sharingan spinning furiously, I redirect more chakra to my eyes. The tomoe merge into a five-spoke spiral, crimson pattern on a black background. The burst of black flames successfully catches Danzou off guard, and again, he melts into nonexistence.
How many second chances remain, how many eyes?
This time, my manic façade doesn't crack. "Hn?" In fact, my smile only widens at the challenge. No matter. Even if I have to kill him a hundred times, I'll find a way to send him to the afterlife.
A volley of bullets made of wind drives me back until I land, standing on the wide river that bisects the valley proper, massive statues of Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama to my left. Could limit my ability to safely use lightning jutsu... Likely, that is exactly Danzou's intent. However, my most effective jutsu with that element are internal, not external. I add more lightning chakra to my technique, and practically soar off the water when I advance towards the shore.
In the meantime, Danzou has summoned some sort of long-nosed chimera-like beast. It opens its mouth to breathe in—the suction is impressive, but I retreat to what appears to be outside of its range, dancing out of the way of the blades of wind that Danzou sends in my direction. They are sharper and move faster than I expect— one nicks my right side, immediately under the ribs, a second shears off the end of my braid.
A few senbon scatter behind me, tinkling as they hit the ground, as my hair begins to unwind. A soft hiss of pain escapes from between clenched teeth, but my smile remains. A point to you, old man.
The next time the beast breathes in, I reply with a torrent of nightmarish black flames. The blaze is strengthened by the suction, and the beast disappears in a puff of grey smoke, hopefully too injured to continue. Danzou protects himself from the remaining stream of fire with a gesture of his alien-looking right hand, an interlocking shield composed of wood appearing in front of him.
What?! I thought that was just a rumor! Eyes widened in shock, I vault myself into the air to avoid the strangling roots that grasp at my feet, instead using them as a means to advance towards my opponent. Lightning-natured chakra crackles in my hand, the air pierced by the sound of a thousand screaming birds— "Chidori!" I slice through the wooden barrier, but ultimately fail to catch him with the jutsu. Another escape? Well, if nothing else, using Mokuton techniques and the sharingan in concert is making him hemorrhage chakra.
...I hope.
The wound on my side bleeds sluggishly; I pay it no attention. Letting the lightning fade from my hand, I tilt my head slightly, bangs giving my face a sinister cast. Two—no, look closer, three eyes down. Hn, and I bet— my musings are interrupted by a trickle of blood, from the corner of my right eye. I blink— a burning ache follows the motion of my eyelid.
Another eight to ten minutes of continuous use, my eyes will become more sensitive to light, becoming as much a hindrance as a boon. I have only pushed that far in training the mangekyou once, and it resulted in a noticeable decline in vision. And a mild case of chakra exhaustion.
I'll just have to work quickly, then.
Green chakra covers my hands once again, this time for a slightly different purpose. Advancing, I drag the elder shinobi into a taijutsu match. A swift kick towards Danzou's gut, to repay him the one I'd received earlier. A hand catches my ankle in a tight grip, tossing me aside. I twist, my hands slap the earth, and I backflip to land upright, facing my enemy, and leap again to avoid grasping, tentacle-like roots. This is becoming repetitive.
Another charge— this time my target is a little less obvious. I strike at the edge of his face, slicing through the bandages and just barely nicking the skin at his temple, subtly changing the equilibrium of proteins in his blood— his wounds will refuse to clot, and bleeding will persist, as surely as they would for a hemophiliac. Death by a thousand cuts; how will you avoid that with your forbidden genjutsu? It only heals a an immediately lethal strike, right? The cut away bandages reveal a mangekyou sharingan.
I meet his mismatched eyes without fear. Confirmed, then. I have three targets; that eye, that arm, and your life, old man.
Said old man smiles, wrinkles pooling around his eyes and mouth. It is not a kind smile. "I wonder what your brother will think of you throwing away the life he so desperately bargained for... Oh, but you didn't know about that? Or did you? That Itachi killed them all for your sake. I suppose I could have one of my men ask, after delivering your eyeless corpse to him."
A dragon of fire interrupts Danzou's efforts to shock me into a mistake. Notably, it does not come from my direction— nor does the impassive "Honorable Elder," intoned as he dodges.
A feral smile may be fixed on my face, but the mangekyou spins rapidly in my eyes, betraying my rage. To speak of that night so casually... you really are a most loathsome person, Shimura Danzou.
Itachi and I move as one— but the elder blocks both his blade and my hands with spike-like roots.
The tide has turned, however. Danzou shifts his focus to defense as the battle becomes less a dance of give-and-take and more of a fight for survival for our opponent. Still, Danzou is decades older than both of us combined, and fighting a shinobi with that level of experience is dangerous. Even if his chakra levels must be plummeting. Even if his wounds do not heal, continuing to bleed.
Itachi takes a nasty kick to the chest, even as I use Danzou's momentary distraction to weave yet another illusion—a discreet one, this time, to slow his reflexes, altering his perception of time.
"How long do you think you can flee from the Shinigami?"
Itachi stands on Danzou's left, and I to his right. Turning to face one Uchiha would put the other at his back. Poor odds for any enemy, no matter how wily.
Bloody tears sliding down my cheeks, teeth bare in a savage grin, hair loose around my head, falling in uneven spikes halfway down my back— Danzou falters, a flicker of fear in his eyes. What does he see, I wonder?
And finally— a second is long enough.
Hand moving with impossible swiftness, I pluck the sharingan from Danzou's head— exactly what he must have done to its former owner, so long ago. Itachi plunges his tanto through our opponent's heart. I follow up with a strike with an iryojutsu that liquefies the honorable elder's brain right in his skull.
There is no disappearing, no genjutsu this time.
"...Not very long at all," I muse. Shimura Danzou lies before me, staring blankly at the sky in death. No breathing. No heartbeat. And yes, then I set his corpse on fire.
Satisfied that my— that our opponent is finished, this time permanently, I finally release my grip on the mangekyou. Staggering in exhaustion, I lean against a boulder, part of the landscape upturned by our battle. Shit. I definitely overdid it. Perhaps I should have practiced more... but that would have meant a further decline in vision. We're going to have to arrange the transfer sooner rather than later, at this rate.
A mild burning; the sensation travels from my hands, up my arms, and towards my chest. The areas where I stretched the channels that chakra travels through a little too far. Taking a sharp breath, I have to grit my teeth against the sudden pain— bruised ribs. Plus the cut to my side. Likely some internal damage as well. Bastard got a few lucky shots.
Steady.
Focus on your breathing.
There is one more task to complete before I can collapse, leaving my fate to whatever scavengers this fight attracted. Or perhaps Shino and Ino are still intact enough to drag me out of here and back to Konoha. I can sense their heartbeats, strong, steady, at the edge of my range. Itachi's beats a soothing rhythm nearby. He didn't take much damage, but...
Hands flow through the familiar hand signs, and I slide down, leaving a small streak of blood against the boulder as I fall into a sitting position, palms slapping against the earth with intent. "Kuchiyose no Jutsu." The act pushes me to the very edge of chakra exhaustion— a sharp burn of protest in my chakra pathways even as the customary waft of smoke appears. My vision begins to swim. A grey salamander steps into view, stooped back and wrinkles belying its advanced age. Success!
"Maya-sama," I rasp, "I need a favor."
The salamander blinks, eyes widening, even as she reaches towards me, hands glowing a light green. "Kami-sama, Sasuke-gaki, what did you do to yourself?! You know better than to use such a chakra-intensive technique in that kind of state!"
I wave her away, stumbling over my words, speech slurring as I rapidly begin to descend into unconsciousness, "Wait, don't— Not me. Didn'— didn't call you for me. M'brother. Look him over and get him to leave?" Neither of us can afford to be found here, together. And someone trustworthy needs to check him over for injuries, Danzou might have cracked a rib with that kick, and the last thing Itachi needs is more lung damage or another opportunistic infection. "Also." I fumble for a second, trying to remember where the item in question was, and open my left hand, revealing the eye I'd snatched from Danzou before his end. "Also this."
"...Alright, Sasuke-kun. I'll take care of your mess, this once." She sighs, but nods her assent, and retrieving the sharingan eye, steps away from me. "But you do realize, boy, that you're going to need a medic right quick."
Corner of my mouth quirking up, even as my eyes close, I mumble, "Hn. Y'know. Practic'lly immort'l. Be fine." And the darkness swallows up my consciousness, leaving me in a peaceful void.
I've managed to scar Shino for life, give Ino and Sasuke a migraine of epic proportions, and finally make Sasuske collapse from exhaustion, all in one chapter! (This aggravating beast of a chapter took me nearly half a year to finish because of writer's block. Argh!)
I just have one more thing to say: Mwahahahahahaha!
Also, to try and stave off some of the arguments: remember that this Sasuke has a drastically different skillset than canon!Sasuke and doesn't have the benefit of an eternal mangekyou. Danzou is both a wily and powerful opponent, on the same level as the Sandaime... and that's without the 'magic immortality eyes' trick or the 'hey look the trees are attacking you' trick. (Obnoxious asshole.) Could this Sasuke have pulled off a victory on his own? Sure. Probably. But he might have nearly blinded himself and taken significantly heavier physical damage if he tried.
...Also the idea of Itachi and Sasuke setting Danzou's corpse on fire together made me happy.
*Lyrics quoted at the top of the chapter are from "Bless You" by The Stranglers.