Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 21

Danzo Shimura had always operated in the shadows.

He had always believed that Konoha needed someone like him—someone willing to do what others could not for the sake of the village.

But this time, the shadows betrayed him.

This time, his secrets were exposed in the light.

The air was thick with tension.

Every pair of Sharingan eyes in the room was burning with fury.

Fugaku Uchiha stood at the center of it all, his chakra pulsing with barely restrained rage.

"You have stolen our bloodline," he said, his voice low, dangerous.

Danzo, bound and kneeling in the middle of the chamber, remained silent.

He had no excuses now. No denials.

The evidence was right in front of them.

His right arm, once a closely guarded secret, had been stripped bare—the grotesque sight of multiple stolen Sharingan now removed, leaving behind only scarred flesh and empty sockets.

The bandages around his right eye had also been unraveled—revealing yet another stolen Sharingan that was now being taken back.

One by one, the Uchiha clan had reclaimed what was theirs.

And the entire council had witnessed it.

The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, sat in his chair, his expression grim.

He had always tolerated Danzo’s methods, even when he disagreed with them.

But this…

This was an unforgivable crime.

Bloodline theft was one of the gravest crimes in the shinobi world.

And Danzo had not only stolen, he had hoarded dozens of Sharingan—using them for his own power.

Even the most staunch anti-Uchiha voices in the council had fallen silent in the face of this revelation.

For years, they had accused the Uchiha of treachery, of trying to overthrow Konoha—

But now, they had to face the truth: Danzo had been the real traitor all along.

And when they recalled the Nine-Tails’ Sharingan-infested eyes on the night of the attack…

The whispers began.

"Could it have been him?"

"Did Danzo let the Nine-Tails loose just to weaken the Uchiha?"

"Was it all a ploy to seize power?"

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat in his office, his face tired, older than ever.

For so long, he had protected Danzo, excused his actions, convinced himself that Danzo's ruthlessness was a necessary evil.

But this?

This was too far.

If he tried to save Danzo now, he knew the village would never forgive him.

Worse—a civil war might break out.

The Uchiha would not tolerate a lighter punishment.

The civilians and other clans would not tolerate another cover-up.

And the rest of the council had turned against Danzo, recognizing that his greed for power had endangered Konoha itself.

There was only one option left.

A large crowd gathered at the center of Konoha.

For the first time in decades, an execution was being carried out publicly.

Danzo knelt on the stone platform, bound in sealing chains, his chakra suppressed.

He did not beg.

He did not struggle.

He only sat there, silent, calculating, as if looking for a way out, even now.

Fugaku Uchiha stood at the front, his gaze hard and unreadable.

Tsunade Senju, usually one to avoid village politics, was there as well—her fists clenched at her sides.

The Hokage took a deep breath before announcing, his voice carrying over the village.

"Danzo Shimura is guilty of bloodline theft, conspiracy, and treason against the Hidden Leaf Village."

"By the authority of the Hokage, he is sentenced to death."

There was no outcry, no protests.

No one would fight for him.

No one would save him.

And so, with a swift and final stroke, Danzo Shimura—the man who lived in the shadows, who plotted for power his entire life—was finally erased.

The moment Danzo's body hit the ground, something was wrong.

The air shifted.

Fugaku Uchiha's sharp Sharingan caught it first—

"No..."

Then, before everyone's eyes, the lifeless corpse on the stone platform morphed, shifting and warping—

Until it was no longer Danzo.

Instead, a young, nameless Root operative lay there, sacrificed in his leader’s place.

A silence, heavy and dangerous, settled over the crowd.

Then—chaos.

By the time the first shinobi reacted, a massive explosion rocked the eastern gates of Konoha.

Smoke billowed into the sky.

Fires spread.

By the time the Anbu reached the Root Headquarters, it was completely abandoned—every last trace of Danzo's personal army vanished into the night.

He was gone.

And he hadn't gone alone.

At least half of the remaining Root operatives—those most loyal to Danzo—had fled with him, disappearing without a trace.

The streets of Konoha buzzed with tension.

This was no ordinary betrayal.

This was war waiting to happen.

The Hokage’s face was grim as he stood in the Hokage Tower, looking over the burning remnants of Root Headquarters.

His oldest friend had become his greatest enemy.

And now, Danzo Shimura was a traitor to the village he once swore to protect.

"Issue an immediate bounty," Hiruzen ordered, his voice like steel. "Danzo Shimura’s head is now worth the highest price in Konoha's history."

The bounty would spread beyond Konoha’s borders.

To bounty hunters. Mercenaries. Rogue ninja.

Anyone willing to hunt down the most dangerous man in the Land of Fire.

At the same time, Anbu teams were dispatched to track him down.

But Hiruzen knew the truth—

Danzo had spent his entire life in the shadows.

If he didn’t want to be found—

He wouldn’t be.

"This is an insult," Fugaku Uchiha said, his voice low and cold, as he sat in the Hokage’s office.

"He stole from our clan. He manipulated the village. And now he dares to run?"

Hiruzen didn’t disagree.

"The Uchiha Police Force will hunt down Danzo's loyalists within Konoha," Fugaku continued.

"And if we find him, Hokage-sama..."

His Sharingan burned bright red.

"He will not escape again."

The Hokage met his gaze, then slowly nodded.

"Do what you must."

Danzo Shimura had always wanted to control Konoha.

But now—

He would never be able to return.


The moonlight cast long shadows as twenty of Danzo’s elite Root operatives surrounded the Potaru household.

These were not ordinary shinobi.

Each one was above Jōnin level, handpicked for their efficiency, their lack of hesitation, and their absolute loyalty to Danzo Shimura.

This was supposed to be a flawless mission.

Get in. Take the Jinchūriki. Get out.

Simple.

But nothing could have prepared them for what happened next.

The first operative lunged, his hands moving in a blur—

Only to grab nothing but air.

In an instant, Naruto had vanished, replaced by a falling leaf.

Then another Root member snatched at his cloak—but Naruto’s form flickered and disappeared again, replaced by a small rock.

Another.

Then another.

Until all twenty of them realized—

They couldn’t even touch him.

Naruto’s substitution technique was now so advanced that it looked like teleportation.

It wasn’t just escape.

It was control.

And now, they had a much bigger problem.

Because standing in front of them—

Was Harry.

Harry Potaru didn’t move.

He simply stood there, bathed in silver moonlight, watching them with calm, unreadable eyes.

The Root operatives had trained their entire lives for battle.

They had fought countless enemies.

But there was something unnatural about the way Harry held himself—

Like a storm waiting to break.

One of them—faster than lightning—appeared behind him, blade raised.

In that same instant—

A sharp gust of wind tore through the air.

The next thing they knew—

The Root member was gone.

No sound. No struggle.

Just gone.

The others hesitated.

A mistake.

Because the moment they hesitated—

Harry moved.

A whisper of air—and a kunai flew forward.

Before they could react, the kunai vanished in a flash of golden light.

And then—

Harry was there.

Right in their midst.

What followed was not a battle.

It was slaughter.

Harry didn’t just fight—he tore through them like a force of nature.

One by one, the operatives disappeared in flashes of yellow, each strike faster than the eye could follow.

A man raised a blade—only for his arm to vanish into thin air.

Another tried to escape—only for Harry to appear in front of him, his hand glowing with raw power.

A second later—he was gone, too.

The last few members tried to retreat—

But it was already over.

Twenty entered.

Zero left.

And as the silence settled, Harry turned to Naruto—

A proud, knowing smile on his lips.

"Well done, kid."


Danzo Shimura was not a man who accepted failure.

He had spent his entire life in the shadows, pulling the strings of Konoha’s fate.

And now, everything was crumbling.

The Jinchūriki had slipped through his fingers.

His best operatives—erased.

His position in the village—destroyed.

But Danzo was not finished.

Not yet.

If he couldn’t have the Nine-Tails, he would take something else.

Something just as valuable.

Deep within his hidden bunker, Danzo sat at a long, dimly lit table, his fingers tapping against the wood as he read through mission reports.

He still had spies everywhere.

He knew where every important shinobi in the village had been sent.

And one name stood out.

Itachi Pottaru.

The only known Wood Release user in Konoha.

A shinobi with a bloodline that should not exist.

A power that Danzo needed.

And he was alone—sent on a small border patrol mission near Amegakure.

Danzo’s lips curled into a cold smile.

This was an opportunity.

This was his chance to strike.

Danzo moved quickly.

He couldn’t risk using his remaining Root operatives—they were either dead or being hunted.

Instead, he reached beyond Konoha.

He had spent decades cultivating spies in every hidden village.

Mercenaries, missing-nin, rogue samurai—loyal only to the highest bidder.

And now, he activated them.

A Ten million ryo.

That was the price he put on Itachi Potaru’s capture.

Dead or alive.

As the bounty spread through the underworld, a whisper carried through the rain-soaked streets of Amegakure.

Somewhere beyond the border, Itachi Potaru—unaware of what was coming—moved through the mist.

And in the shadows, dozens of hunters were already closing in.


The rain fell in heavy sheets over the Amegakure border, drenching the earth in mud.

Itachi Pottaru stood still, eyes closed, feeling the rhythm of the raindrops on his skin.

And beneath the rain…

Something moved.

Chakra signatures.

Strong ones.

Itachi’s eyes snapped open. His sensory abilities, enhanced by Wood Release, spread through the earth like roots seeking water.

There were many.

And they were coming fast.

He turned to the mission commander, a seasoned Jōnin named Hiro Matsuda.

"Sir, we have incoming. Multiple high-level shinobi. They're closing in from Amegakure’s side.”

Hiro frowned. “How many?”

"At least fifteen. Almost all Jōnin-level. Some feel even stronger."

A silence fell over the group.

They had one Jōnin commander—Hiro.

Six Chūnin.

And then there was Itachi.

More than a Jōnin. Almost Kage-level.

But still, the odds were terrible.

"We need to retreat." Hiro made the call instantly. "Amegakure forces shouldn’t be this far out. This isn’t normal border activity—someone sent them."

But before they could move—

The enemy was upon them.

It started with a barrage of kunai and explosive tags.

The air roared with fire, illuminating the night.

Itachi leaped back, weaving signs, and slammed his palms onto the wet ground.

"Wood Release: Great Forest Wall!"

Thick, gnarled roots exploded from the mud, forming a barrier that absorbed the brunt of the explosion.

But then—they came.

Fifteen shinobi rushed through the flames, each moving with deadly precision.

They weren’t just Amegakure border guards.

These were killers.

Mercenaries.

Hired blades.

And they came for them.

Hiro and the Chūnin fought with everything they had.

Steel clashed, jutsu filled the air, the rain turning red with blood.

One Chūnin—a young woman named Kenta—tried to block a lightning-infused blade.

She failed.

The sword cut through her like paper.

She fell, her blood mixing with the rain.

Another Chūnin—a veteran named Ryo—was caught in a water prison jutsu.

Before anyone could save him, a masked enemy drove a spear through his heart.

Two down.

And the enemy kept coming.

Itachi’s heart pounded.

His vision shifted.

Tomoe spun in his eyes.

The Sharingan awoke fully, analyzing every movement, every jutsu, every pattern in the enemy's attacks.

Enough.

"Wood Release: Binding Forest Coffin!"

The ground split apart as massive wooden branches erupted, twisting like serpents.

They wrapped around the enemy shinobi, crushing bones, squeezing the life from them.

Screams echoed in the rain.

One enemy broke free—only for Itachi to be right in front of him.

A single swipe of his kunai.

A clean cut across the throat.

The man gurgled. Fell.

The others panicked.

But it was too late.

Itachi moved like a shadow, his Sharingan guiding his every step.

Kunai flew.

Throats were cut.

Limbs were severed.

He danced through the battlefield, his movements flawless.

And then—

Silence.

The rain washed away the blood.

Every single enemy was dead.

Aftermath

Hiro panted, clutching a wound on his side.

The remaining four Chūnin stood shaken, bloodied, but alive.

Itachi took a slow breath, deactivating his Sharingan.

"We need to leave. Now." Hiro's voice was grim. "This wasn’t just an ambush. This was an assassination attempt."

Itachi nodded.

And deep inside, he knew.

They were after him.

And this was just the beginning.