Chapter 56: A Miracle?
Far beneath Konoha, in the dim, humid corridors of ROOT's hidden base, an oppressive silence hung like mist. Ancient stone walls, slick with condensation, glistened under the flickering light of chakra lanterns. In the center of a large, circular chamber, Danzo Shimura stood with his hands folded behind his back, the faint rustle of his robes the only sound in the room.
Around him, shadows shifted as ROOT shinobi assembled, their masks gleaming like hollow ghosts. Silent. Awaiting orders.
"Bring Orochimaru," Danzo said, his voice low and firm.
With a flicker of movement, the guards vanished into the dark passages.
Minutes passed.
Then, from the far corridor, came the soft echo of approaching footsteps. They were slow, deliberate—calculated. A serpentine figure emerged from the darkness, pale face illuminated under the dim glow, his long coat dragging slightly along the floor.
"Danzo-sama," Orochimaru purred, stopping just short of the chamber's center. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement. "Have we moved beyond hesitation?"
Danzo didn't acknowledge the question directly. "You spoke of the possibility of transplanting the Sharingan. I want results."
Orochimaru's smile curled like smoke. "Surgical transplantation of the Sharingan is certainly possible," he said, his voice smooth, but undercut with warning. "However, the consequences are… significant. The Sharingan consumes chakra at a prodigious rate. The host's body must endure a constant, unnatural strain. Hallucinations, chakra drain, even psychological degradation. Without Uchiha blood, the risk is exponential."
Danzo's one visible eye remained sharp. Cold. "I asked for a solution, not a recital of limitations."
Orochimaru's grin widened. He began to circle Danzo slowly, like a predator orbiting a potential host. "There may be a way… though it is not without complexity. I've begun preliminary research into Hashirama Senju's cells. Their regenerative capacity is unparalleled—capable of rapid adaptation and fusion. If those cells can be integrated successfully… they could provide the body with the physical resilience needed to sustain multiple Sharingan."
Danzo's expression didn't change, but the air around him grew colder.
Orochimaru continued, his voice softening into something like awe. "If I can merge the strength of Hashirama with the insight of the Sharingan… it would be the perfect union. A body that heals, endures, and sees. A miracle."
Danzo raised his hand.
From the side passages, ROOT operatives began entering the chamber, pushing heavy, sealed carts. One after another they arrived, forming a line along the chamber walls. With precise movements, they unlocked the seals. Crates opened to reveal chakra stabilizers glowing with internal hums, preservation tanks filled with glowing fluid, genome resonance amplifiers etched with symbols, surgical-grade extractors of rare craftsmanship—tools that only the most elite underground labs possessed.
Orochimaru's eyes widened with something between joy and hunger. His hands hovered over one of the machines. "You've acquired equipment even the Land of Rivers' Forbidden Division couldn't access… you've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?"
Danzo didn't respond. But his gaze was steady. Focused. Beneath the edge of his sleeve, a thin surgical scar glinted in the torchlight, barely healed.
"Create your miracle."
Orochimaru bowed slightly, though the motion was more theatrical than respectful. His tongue briefly flicked across his lips.
"Then we begin tonight."
As ROOT shinobi began moving into position, the chamber buzzed with chakra. Scrolls were unfurled. Seals ignited with faint blue light. Medical tools floated into sterile fields. Orochimaru was already pulling on a pair of gloves, humming softly to himself—like an artist preparing for his greatest masterpiece.
In the shadows of Konoha, where sunlight could never reach, a forbidden partnership was rekindled. Science and ambition, madness and order, dancing on the edge of something monstrous.
And far above, in his dimly lit office beneath the great Hokage monument, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat alone with his pipe, staring at an untouched stack of reports. A breeze stirred the edges of a mission file stamped Confidential. He frowned—his instincts gnawed at him—but he could not yet see just how deep the roots of betrayal had already dug beneath his village.
As ROOT shinobi moved into position and the chamber filled with the low hum of chakra-powered machinery, Orochimaru moved like a predator among the tools—his fingers brushing over biomechanical extractors, chakra resonance amplifiers, and precision scalpels with reverent care.
Then, pausing near one of the glowing organ preservation tanks, he turned back to Danzo, his expression more composed.
"Before we proceed directly to the transplantation," he said, his tone serious, "I'll need time. Merging Hashirama's cells and transplanting Sharingan that too into a non-Uchiha host… is not something done on a whim. I will run preliminary experiments to observe cellular adaptation, chakra flow harmonization, and regeneration rates. Once I achieve stability—only then—I will perform the procedure on you."
Danzo's gaze was sharp and silent. But after a tense pause, he nodded once.
"Then take some time, but I want results."
Orochimaru offered a shallow bow, a slithering smile creeping onto his lips. "It will be enough."
Just as the two turned to go their separate ways, Danzo paused and glanced sideways.
"I've heard rumors... that Tsunade has taken a particular interest in a young Senju prodigy. She's been seen training him personally."
Orochimaru arched an eyebrow, his curiosity mildly piqued. "Truly? I hadn't noticed. Though I doubt Tsunade would take on a disciple. I know her well—such attachments aren't her style. At most, she may be guiding the boy briefly out of nostalgia… or guilt."
Danzo remained still for a long moment, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his hood. Then he spoke, voice low and deliberate.
"Keep that boy away from Tsunade Senju. However you can."
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed faintly at the sudden shift in tone, but he didn't press further. "I have someone in the mission assignment department—well-placed. A whisper in the right ear, a different deployment order here and there… I can arrange it."
Danzo gave a quiet hum of approval, but he wasn't done.