Chapter 128 - Turns Out the Clown Was Me All Along
More than five hundred Jōnin were seated behind the council platform, filling the vast assembly hall with a quiet, expectant hum. As the head of the esteemed Hatake clan, Kazane naturally occupied a prominent seat in the front row, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
Yet it wasn't Orochimaru, the candidate seemingly destined for leadership, who bore the heaviest emotions that day.
It was Danzo Shimura and Uchiha Fugaku whose hearts beat the loudest—one with anticipation, the other with restrained ambition.
Danzo sat among the village elders, spine rigid and eyes alight with barely contained fervor. He had devoted decades of his life—his youth, his blood, his ideals—to securing the Hokage's mantle. Now, at long last, that seat was within reach. The time had come to claim what he believed was rightfully his.
He only wished Hiruzen Sarutobi would stop stalling and begin the proceedings. The old man's tendency to drag out formalities grated on Danzo's nerves now more than ever.
Uchiha Fugaku, meanwhile, wore a carefully composed expression, but inwardly, his heart was in turmoil. The Uchiha had long borne the brunt of the village's mistrust. Since the era of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, the clan had suffered under quiet suppression, and that repression had persisted throughout Hiruzen's reign.
But now, for the first time in years, Fugaku saw the faint glimmer of a future.
Orochimaru had given him a promise—one that could not be dismissed. If elected as the Fourth Hokage, he would appoint Fugaku as one of Konoha's new elders, restoring dignity and influence to the Uchiha name.
As for the title of Fifth Hokage—once offered to his father in a time long past—Fugaku had long abandoned any hope. That role would never be his, not while Hatake Kazane stood as an immovable pillar of strength.
There were others in the room as well, each harboring ambitions, grudges, and quiet schemes. But for now, we'll leave their thoughts aside.
At last, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood from his central seat and raised a hand, silencing the murmur of the gathered shinobi.
The meeting had officially begun.
Danzo couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His expression remained mostly stoic—he had long perfected the art of self-control—but his excitement simmered just beneath the surface. His moment was here.
Yet when Hiruzen turned to meet his gaze, Danzo noticed something strange.
Pity.
The look in Hiruzen's eyes was not one of encouragement, not of shared triumph between comrades. It was pity—deep, quiet, mournful. And for a fleeting second, Danzo's certainty wavered. But he quickly dismissed it. Hiruzen was sentimental. He probably just didn't want to step down. That was all.
Danzo turned to his left, where Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane—the two remaining elders—sat. When he caught their eyes, they smiled warmly, even cheerfully.
They're proud of me, he thought. They're glad to see the future of the village in my hands.
He nodded slightly, full of confidence, interpreting their smiles as approval. Sit back and watch me rise, his expression seemed to say.
Hiruzen stepped up to the podium and launched into a lengthy speech—one filled with flowery language and nostalgic tones.
It was the kind of address only someone ready to relinquish power could give. His voice, though aged, carried weight and emotion. He spoke of the Will of Fire, of sacrifice and growth, of peace hard-earned and unity hard-fought.
And he just wouldn't shut up.
Danzo muttered under his breath, "A man about to step down shouldn't be wasting my word count."
At last, the speech concluded after what felt like an eternity. Hiruzen's voice dipped with finality.
"Now, we invite the two candidates forward."
Danzo rose first, as was his right—he had been the Hokage's advisor for years, after all. But as he walked toward the podium, he could already feel it. The temperature in the room had changed.
The moment he began speaking, a quiet chatter rippled through the audience. Whispers. Laughter. Indifference.
They were ignoring him.
Jōnin who should have been attentive exchanged casual conversation. Some didn't even look at him.
Danzo noticed every slight, every insult—but forced himself to carry on. This is my day. Let them talk. Soon enough, they'll kneel.
He finished his speech with practiced ease and returned to his seat, head held high despite the chill in the air.
Then Orochimaru stood.
His very presence drew applause—thunderous, unrestrained.
He hadn't even said a word yet.
Danzo's jaw clenched as he turned to glare at the man who would steal his dream. Orochimaru walked slowly, deliberately, every step exuding confidence and charm.
Unlike his usual curt self, Orochimaru chose to speak at length—perhaps as a show of respect for the moment. Or perhaps to savor his inevitable victory.
His words flowed like silk, wrapping the crowd in promises of innovation, stability, and strength. Each phrase was met with applause. Each pause gave the audience time to cheer.
Danzo could feel the difference as clearly as a blade to the chest.
Where his own words had been met with silence, Orochimaru's ignited fire.
When the speech ended, Hiruzen returned to the stage.
The final moment had come.
"We will now vote," the Third Hokage announced. "Those in favor of Orochimaru, raise your hands. Those who do not raise their hands, your vote will count for Danzo."
The pause that followed was brief—but decisive.
Almost every hand in the hall went up.
Some were raised with quiet confidence. Others shot into the air with enthusiasm. But the meaning was unmistakable.
Orochimaru had won. Overwhelmingly.
Danzo's heart pounded. This couldn't be right. He had Hiruzen's support. The Hyuga clan. His own loyal Root operatives.
His eyes swept across the room, desperate to find validation.
And then he saw Hiashi Hyuga—arms raised high. Both arms, in fact, as if to ensure Orochimaru could see his loyalty clearly.
Danzo's chest tightened.
They betrayed me...
He turned frantically toward Homura and Koharu.
They were voting too—hands raised, smiling.
Danzo's blood ran cold.
What are they doing? Have they lost their minds?
He'd spent decades working with them. They'd plotted together. Schemed. Sacrificed. Didn't they understand what this meant?
And then came the final betrayal.
Danzo turned to the man he trusted above all—the one person who would never abandon him.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Their shared past spanned wars, losses, and victories. He had always been by Hiruzen's side. And surely, Hiruzen would stand by his.
But when Danzo looked...
Hiruzen had raised his hand.
Danzo froze.
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
The man he had considered his greatest ally—his general in this final political war—had defected.
Everything I did... everything I gave...
It was all for nothing.
His mind reeled, grasping for stability.
In that moment, Danzo felt like a lone top-laner in a game—carrying his team, crushing the enemy—only to realize too late that his teammates had been griefing him the whole game.
Just as despair crept in, the final nail was driven into his coffin.
A voice rang out across the hall, firm and unwavering.
"I accuse Hokage candidate Shimura Danzo of conducting illegal human experimentation, tampering with the cells of the First Hokage, and stealing Sharingan from fallen members of the Uchiha clan!"
A hushed gasp swept through the crowd, surging like a wave through the hall.
"And that's not all," the voice continued. "He also orchestrated the fall of Konoha's White Fang—Hatake Sakumo. The disgrace and pressure led to his suicide!"
Silence fell once again, heavier this time. And then—
All eyes turned toward the accuser.
It was Homura Mitokado.
Danzo's face drained of color. The betrayal hit him harder than any blade ever could. His old ally—his trusted comrade—had thrown him to the wolves.
Even Hiruzen's features barely shifted at the dramatic accusation. He didn't flinch. His voice was calm, almost resigned.
"Do you have proof?" he asked, his tone betraying not a shred of surprise, as if he had expected this all along.
Homura raised a hand and pointed directly at Danzo's right arm.
"That bandaged arm of his is proof enough," he said coldly. "And I've compiled records—detailed documentation of his involvement in the White Fang scandal. It's all here."
He reached into his robes and produced a tightly sealed scroll, which he handed to Hiruzen.
In truth, Homura hadn't known about Danzo's forbidden experiments from the beginning. But after the last great war, Hatake Kazane had noticed the heavy bandages always wrapped around Danzo's arm—never once removed. Suspicious. Telltale.
In the original timeline, Danzo's grotesque arm full of Sharingan had been the work of Orochimaru. But in this world, the Snake Sannin would never lend his talents to such filth. He had ambitions of his own and no love for Danzo.
So that left only one explanation: Danzo had performed the surgeries himself—likely using his own resources, his own twisted means.
And even if this theory was wrong, Kazane had a failsafe. Deep within the ranks of Root, he controlled a loyal member—code-named "K." The boy who once bore the name Yamato, or Tenzo. If it came to it, K could testify.
Danzo's hands trembled as he clenched the edges of his seat. He was beginning to see the trap.
"Danzo," Hiruzen growled suddenly, face darkening with theatrical rage, "tell me—are these accusations true?! Have you really done all this under my nose?! Have I been too soft on you?! I'm disappointed!"
To the untrained eye, the fury on Hiruzen's face might have seemed genuine. His voice shook with emotion, his eyes narrowed in pain.
Even Kazane—watching from the front—had to admit, if he hadn't known Hiruzen's nature, he might have believed this display was sincere.
Danzo, humiliated and cornered, sat in stunned silence. The betrayal. The lies. The shifting tides. None of it made sense.
How did Homura learn about my Sharingan arm?
But what cut deepest wasn't the exposure.
It was Hiruzen.
You knew everything, Danzo thought bitterly. You approved it all, even if you never said so out loud. You let me do what you couldn't. And now you act like you're shocked?
At last, it dawned on him.
They needed a scapegoat. And that scapegoat is me.
All the covert operations, the assassinations, the experiments—the burden he had carried for decades—none of it mattered now. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a savior. Not in their eyes.
The fool... the real clown... was me.
There was no escape. No way he could reveal what was hidden beneath those cursed bandages. The truth was worse than death.
He had never expected his end to come like this—not by enemy hands, not in battle—but by betrayal. By his own comrades.
The audience remained frozen in place, shocked by the spectacle. To see Danzo—so powerful, so feared—reduced to this... was beyond comprehension.
And then, Danzo spoke.
His voice was low but clear, filled with the weight of decades of bitterness.
"Monkey... you bask in the sun as the leaves," he said, eyes locked onto Hiruzen's, "while I... I remained in the roots, buried in the dark."
The words weren't laced with hatred. No, what Danzo felt in that moment wasn't rage—it was regret.
Even now, even after being forsaken, he couldn't bring himself to truly hate Hiruzen.
He had just... lost.
In the end, he had never once emerged from Hiruzen's shadow.
Something in Hiruzen's hardened face cracked. Memories—old, worn, and painful—surfaced in his eyes. For a moment, he looked not like the Third Hokage, but a tired old man.
Old friend... I'm sorry.
Danzo drew in one final breath. A parting act burned in his soul. One last service. One final gesture.
"Let me do one last thing for you, Monkey."
With that, he turned and bolted toward Orochimaru.
His fingers danced through a flurry of hand seals.
Reaper Death Seal!
From the center of his chest, a black, eight-trigram symbol exploded outward, growing and twisting like ink bleeding into water. A massive, pulsating orb of black energy began to materialize.
Gasps filled the room as the seal took shape. The air thickened. Chakra trembled. Danzo's body began to leak black fluid, proof that the forbidden jutsu had activated.
He was already steps away from Orochimaru—too fast, too sudden.
But just before the jutsu could complete—
Time stopped.
Danzo froze mid-lunge. The black fluid dripping from his mouth halted mid-air. It was as if the entire world had paused—only for him.
The crowd didn't understand what was happening. All they knew was that a forbidden technique had been triggered.
Panic erupted. Shinobi scrambled to evacuate.
Kazane didn't hesitate. Grabbing a large wooden signboard, he struck Orochimaru square in the chest, knocking him clear of the frozen space.
Danzo's time-stopped zone had a radius of dozens of meters. One step too slow, and Orochimaru would've been dragged into death with him.
Once Orochimaru was safe, the others quickly retreated, emptying the central hall.
Kazane stepped forward, his expression calm.
He raised Shusui, the jet-black katana at his hip, and concentrated chakra into its edge. A ripple of Armament Haki surged down the blade.
With one breath, he unleashed a flying slash—a dark, compressed wave of raw power—straight into the heart of the frozen zone.
The moment the slash reached its target, time resumed.
Slash!
Danzo's body was bisected before the Reaper Death Seal could finish. The black liquid erupted upward in a final, silent scream as the dark slash tore through him, then carved into the far wall and vanished into the sky beyond.
The explosion's shockwave shattered windows and echoed across the village, drawing civilians toward the Hokage Building in confusion and fear.
When the dust settled...
Danzo was dead.
His Reaper Death Seal had still activated, sealing off the top two floors of the building in a useless act of vengeance.
But it no longer mattered.
Because everyone's attention had already shifted—to something else entirely.
Uchiha Fugaku stood still at the edge of the council seats, unmoving. Blood trickled down his cheek.
From his left eye.
There, spinning slowly, was a awakened Mangekyō Sharingan—the massive, spiraling pattern clear for all to see.
The crowd fell into silence. Then whispers began to spread. The Uchiha… had awakened a Mangekyō.
A new era had begun.
Soon after, with the tension finally broken, Hiruzen stood once more and formally declared Orochimaru as the next Hokage of the Hidden Leaf.
The inauguration would be held two weeks later, with the Daimyō of the Land of Fire personally attending the coronation.
Hiruzen and Orochimaru left the building side by side, the sun bathing their shoulders as they moved to calm the gathering civilians below.
To the outside world, they looked like teacher and student, reunited at last. Smiling. Serene.
But within that quiet march...
One era had ended.
And a new one had begun.