Chapter 105: The Weight of Return
Konoha Camp – Central Headquarters, Moments Earlier
The tension in the command tent was a live wire, humming with unspoken conflict. The assembled jonin, the backbone of Konoha's field operations, were seated along a long table, but the gathering was split. An invisible line divided the space between those who looked to Danzo's cold, pragmatic authority and those who drew strength from Hatake Sakumo's unwavering presence.
"The latest scout intelligence is confirmed," Sakumo stated, his voice cutting cleanly through the stifling air. He placed a small scroll on the table. "The entire Iwagakure force pursuing Tsunade has been wiped out. The site is a charred wasteland. This indicates Tsunade may still be alive, and more importantly, that our operative reached her. We must dispatch an elite extraction team into the Rain Country's interior immediately. Even if the chance is slim, we do not abandon our own."
His words were firm, rooted in the shinobi code he lived by. He also knew, with a private certainty that warmed the cold knot of worry in his gut, that Ragnar had succeeded. The scale of the destruction reported only confirmed the terrifying potential of the young ANBU he'd taken under his wing. That potential was worth protecting, and Tsunade's life was non-negotiable.
Danzo's response was a hammer blow of ice. "As the Hokage's appointed field commander, I object!" His single eye swept the room, dismissing Sakumo's argument. "Sakumo, do you comprehend the operational reality? The Rain Country's interior is a meat grinder. Sending an elite team there on a salvage operation is a suicide mission, a waste of vital resources for a probable corpse."
He leaned forward, his voice dripping with cold logic. "The annihilation of that Iwa squad is more likely the work of Amegakure or Sunagakure forces moving in the chaos. A convenient coincidence, not a rescue. Furthermore, given the elapsed time with no communication, the statistical probability of Tsunade's survival is negligible. I will not sanction risking Konoha's strength for a dead woman."
His words hung, stark and brutal. Even some of the jonin who typically leaned toward his faction shifted uncomfortably. To speak so dismissively of Tsunade, a Sannin, the Shodai's granddaughter, the Hokage's own student… it was a level of cold calculus that chilled the blood.
In Danzo's mind, it was simple mathematics. Tsunade's value, while high, was not unique. Her medical prowess was exceptional, but not irreplaceable—he had his own resources. Her political weight was significant, but a dead princess conferred no advantage. Allocating precious assets to a lost cause was the height of inefficiency. He would prune a dead branch without a second thought.
"Kukuku…"
A low, sibilant laugh broke the silence, seeming to slither from the shadows behind Sakumo. It was Orochimaru. He didn't move from his leaning posture against a tent pole, but his golden, serpentine eyes fixed on Danzo with a glint of pure, amused malice.
"Danzo-sama's logic is… impeccable," Orochimaru hissed, the compliment sounding like a curse. "So clear. So very… economical."
A palpable chill radiated from him. Everyone present knew Orochimaru's reputation for cold detachment. But this was different. This was a predator noticing another predator eyeing its kin. Tsunade and Jiraiya were his. His complicated, thorny affection for them was one of his few tethering points to humanity. Danzo's casual dismissal of Tsunade's life had just snapped that tether taut.
Danzo's brow furrowed minutely, a flicker of irritation at the interruption.
The oppressive silence returned, thicker than before. The standoff was complete.
Then, the tent flap was thrown open.
A voice, cold and clear as a winter stream, flowed into the stagnant space.
"Of course there's no need to waste an elite team. The risk is unnecessary."
All heads turned.
Tsunade stood in the entrance, her clothes travel-stained and bearing the subtle marks of recent combat, but her posture was regal, her gaze blazing. Behind her left shoulder was the impassive red mask of Rakshasa. To her right, the silent figure of Uchiha Mikoto completed the picture.
"Because," Tsunade finished, her eyes locking onto Danzo with undisguised contempt, "I'm already back."
She walked in, the authority of a Senju and a Sannin radiating from her. Danzo's decision, from a purely tactical standpoint, had a grim logic. Sakumo believed she lived; Danzo calculated she was dead. Both were acting on available intelligence.
But hearing her life, her value, reduced to a cold probability and dismissed so callously… it ignited a fury in her she hadn't known she possessed. It was the visceral disgust of being deemed expendable.
Danzo's stern, carved-stone expression finally cracked. For a single, unguarded moment, sheer disbelief widened his eye. Alive? His mind scrambled. The embarrassment of his pronouncement being proven wrong in front of the entire command staff was a secondary sting compared to the strategic recalculation now forced upon him.
Yet, Danzo's will was forged in secrecy and shame. His face smoothed back into its customary stern mask, the lapse lasting less than a heartbeat. He gave a shallow, stiff nod. "Your return is… noted."
The other jonin erupted in murmurs of relief and shock. They had all seen the dire reports. Tsunade's survival against such odds was a minor miracle.
"Tsunade," Orochimaru murmured, his unsettling smile returning, now tinged with genuine relief. His slitted eyes, however, slid past her to the crimson mask. The pieces clicked together with elegant, horrifying clarity. The Iwa squad annihilation… the scout's report of a single Konoha operative… Rakshasa. His gaze sharpened with intense, analytical interest. Could it be… him?
"Tsunade! It's good to see you return safely!" Sakumo's voice was warm with genuine relief, breaking the awkward silence. His eyes briefly met the lenses of Ragnar's mask, a silent message of gratitude and approval passing between them.
Danzo, master of political maneuvering, rapidly assimilated the new data. His eye flicked from Tsunade's defiant face to the silent, masked ANBU behind her. The connection was obvious. This 'Rakshasa' had not only retrieved her but had presumably been the cause of the Iwa squad's destruction. Forty ninja… multiple jonin… wiped out by one operative? The implications were staggering, and deeply troubling for his own plans.
"Your safe return is fortunate," Danzo said, his voice carefully neutral, reclaiming control of the narrative. "Now that you are present, we can proceed to the next operational items."
Sakumo nodded, gesturing to a guard who quickly brought two more chairs. Tsunade took one without ceremony, her 'boss' aura firmly back in place. Ragnar stood for a moment. He had no desire to be part of a strategic meeting. But as a Special ANBU operative, directly under the Hokage's line and effectively holding a rank equivalent to a squad captain, his presence was now required.
"Rakshasa," Sakumo said, his tone inviting rather than ordering. "Please, sit."
The remaining jonin watched with open curiosity. The legend of 'Rakshasa' had grown from whispers to concrete reality. The Ninth Team's exploits, the rumored solo annihilation of an Iwa force, and now the successful extraction of a Sannin from behind enemy lines… the masked figure was becoming a symbol of Konoha's hidden, terrifying strength.
The meeting that followed was brisk, dealing with supply lines, rotation schedules, and enemy movement reports. Danzo contributed little, his expression darkening throughout. Each point agreed upon without his dominating influence felt like a personal defeat. When it concluded, he rose without a word and swept out of the tent, his cloak billowing, the air around him frigid with suppressed anger.
Another public setback. The sting was acute.
The other department heads filed out, leaving only Sakumo, Tsunade, Ragnar, and Orochimaru in the spacious tent. Uchiha Mikoto had silently melted away with the other ANBU, her duty done for now.
Sakumo let out a long breath, the official demeanor softening. He looked at Ragnar, a genuine smile touching his lips. "You can remove the mask. Tsunade already knows, and there are no strangers here."
Ragnar reached up, the movement deliberate. The blood-red Rakshasa mask came away, revealing the young, sharp-featured face beneath. It was a face that still held a hint of youth, utterly at odds with the mythos rapidly building around the mask.
Sakumo stepped forward and clapped a firm, approving hand on Ragnar's shoulder. The gesture was warm, paternal, and carried the full weight of his respect. "Well done. Exceptionally well done."
It was high praise from the White Fang, who valued the protection of comrades above all else. Bringing Tsunade back unharmed was, to him, a greater testament to Ragnar's worth than any number of enemy kills.
"Tch, I already figured out the brat's identity ages ago," Tsunade interjected, rolling her eyes, but a fond smile played on her lips.
"And this," Sakumo said, gesturing to the leaning figure of Orochimaru, "is Captain of the Third ANBU Squad, Orochimaru. Your… senior, in a sense."
Two pairs of eyes met across the tent.
Ragnar looked at Orochimaru, taking in the pale skin, the golden, vertically slitted eyes, the aura of chilled, intellectual curiosity that seemed to suck the warmth from the air.
Orochimaru looked at Ragnar, seeing past the youthful face to the immense, barely-contained power thrumming beneath the surface. The one who had slain dozens, who wielded unknown abilities, who was clearly Sakumo's protege and Tsunade's sworn brother. A fascinating specimen.
A long, forked tongue slid out to wet thin lips. Orochimaru's signature, unsettling smile spread across his face.
"Kukuku… Ragnar-kun," he hissed, the sound like dry scales sliding over stone. "I am… very interested in you."
The words hung in the air, laden with a hunger that was both academic and deeply unnerving.
Ragnar met his gaze without flinching, his own eyes flat and devoid of warmth. "Sorry," he replied, his voice devoid of any emotion. "The feeling isn't mutual."
The chill in the tent seemed to deepen by several degrees.
(End of Chapter)
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