"Not afraid."
Ren's expression didn't change in the slightest.
"You set up a barrier here. As a mber of the Konoha Military Police Force, I have the responsibility to investigate anything suspicious."
"You did this on purpose?"
Danzō's pupils tightened.
"You knew there was a barrier—and still walked in?"
"Yeah." Ren nodded, smiling faintly.
"Root has watched for years. I've wanted to et the head of Root—Shimura Danzō—for a long ti."
When he said Danzō's na, his tone sharpened.
Back when the System had just awakened, Ren had lived like he was walking on thin ice. Root. ANBU. One wrong move and soone could decide he was "too dangerous."
But now?
He didn't fear it anymore.
He could stay low-profile, sure—
but low-profile didn't an letting people step on his throat.
If Danzō wanted to send people after him, Ren would put them down.
If it escalated…
then it escalated.
"You…"
For the first ti, Danzō looked genuinely thrown off.
This was supposed to be simple: seal off an alley with a barrier, force Ren to comply, pull an Elite Jōnin into Root.
Even if Ren was "just" a taijutsu specialist—
an Elite Jōnin was still a massive gain.
And more importantly—
if Ren entered Root, Danzō would have a cleaner line into the Uchiha clan's internal movents.
But Ren wasn't bending.
Not even slightly.
He was like Shisui in the worst way: impossible to "guide," impossible to use.
Ren took one step forward, gaze cold.
"Alright. If you're done wasting my ti, I'm leaving."
He paused, then smiled—thin and dangerous.
"I know what you're trying to do. Just don't get caught."
His eyes narrowed.
"Because if I catch you, I'll crush you in one go."
The air shifted.
A heavy, domineering pressure rolled off Ren—unmasked, unrestrained—pressing straight down on Danzō like a mountain.
Danzō's face tightened, jaw setting as if he'd swallowed sothing bitter.
For an instant, he felt ridiculous—
like a clown trying to posture in front of a real predator.
Ren withdrew the pressure as casually as turning off a lamp.
He didn't even bother looking at Danzō again. He turned and walked.
Not yet.
The real show starts when Konoha's upper brass finally decides the Uchiha have to die.
"Uchiha Ren!"
Danzō's voice snapped, ugly with rage.
"You'll regret this!"
Ren stopped and glanced back, eyes amused.
"Regret it?"
He tilted his head.
"Are you saying you want to go to war with the Uchiha clan?"
"I…"
"I—"
Danzō froze.
His mouth opened, but nothing ca out.
Because he couldn't say it.
If he said "war," Hiruzen would tear him apart before the Uchiha even lifted a finger.
Right now, Konoha still needed the clan.
Ren let out a soft laugh.
"Pathetic."
He shook his head, voice turning sharp again.
"Shimura Danzō. Rember this."
"Even if the Uchiha fall to their lowest point… you still don't get to touch them."
His gaze was pure contempt.
"Because you're not worthy."
Ren's right fist clenched.
Black Armant Haki wrapped around his knuckles like ink-black steel.
He punched forward.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—!
A simplified, half-transparent violet barrier—box-shaped, edges flickering like fla—
shattered like glass.
"—Hrk!"
"—Hrk!"
Hidden in the shadows, four Root Jōnin maintaining the formation coughed blood at the sa ti, eyes wide with disbelief.
A weakened variant of the Four Violet Flas Formation—broken by a punch?
Even watered down, it should've been enough to trap an Elite Jōnin.
Danzō's face twisted, rage and shock fighting for control.
"He got stronger… again?"
He'd tried to humiliate Ren.
Instead, he'd been humiliated.
And worse—
he couldn't even talk about it.
Ren had walked through his trap, stepped on his pride, and left him standing there like a joke.
Danzō's fists trembled.
Then his expression turned cold.
"Uchiha… I'm taking you sooner or later."
His voice dipped into sothing venomous.
"You think taijutsu is enough?"
"I'll use the Sharingan to make you beg to die."
A low, ugly laugh crawled out of his throat.
"Heh… heh… heh…"
And then—
space warped.
A spiral-shaped distortion twisted the air.
A man stepped out, wearing an orange mask with a single whirl pattern.
Uchiha Obito.
His voice was calm—almost casual.
"Maybe… we can cooperate."
…
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