The sun rose slowly over the Hidden Leaf, casting golden light across the training grounds where Tharion stood with arms folded, watching his Genin batch line up in formation. Today would be no easy lesson. The first day had been survival drills and harsh sparring, but now it was endurance, focus, and mental strain.
"Listen well," Tharion's voice carried like steel, every word sinking into the Genin's bones. "A ninja who cannot endure… dies. A ninja who cannot trust their comrades… loses. And a ninja who refuses to grow… becomes a burden."
He clapped his hands together, summoning a wave of chakra that made the very ground tremble. The Genin stiffened, feeling the weight of his presence. Iruka, Anko, and Guy—already exhausted from yesterday's advanced drills—watched from the side, silently impressed by how deeply Tharion's words carved into the young students. Even Kakashi, though pretending disinterested with his book half-raised, kept glancing up, soaking in every detail of Tharion's methods.
But far away, in the shadows beneath Konoha's roots, Danzo Shimura made his move.
"Test him," he whispered coldly to his operatives. "Probe his skills, his intent. If he truly stands as Minato's favored weapon… we must know where his weakness lies."
The Root operatives moved like whispers, unseen by the civilians, silent as death as they encircled the training ground.
Tharion's brow furrowed mid-instruction. His eyes flicked toward the treeline. His battle-honed instincts roared inside him—predators lurking. He didn't alert the Genin. Instead, he finished his explanation with a deceptive calm.
"Run the endurance circuit until I return. If you collapse, you fail. If you give up, you're dismissed."
As the Genin sprinted into the forest course, Tharion vanished. One moment he stood in the sunlight, the next he dissolved into motion, his chakra presence snuffed like a candle flame.
A Root operative didn't even have time to react before a hand clamped around his throat, dragging him into the open. Another came at Tharion with a tanto—but the blade never touched him. With one fluid motion, Tharion disarmed him, flipped the weapon, and pinned the man into the dirt, blade at his throat.
"You dare." Tharion's voice was low, primal. His golden eyes burned like fire. "Root dogs think they can measure me?"
Another two tried to blindside him with coordinated strikes. A swirl of crimson energy flared around Tharion—his aura, his killing intent—so suffocating that their blades trembled in their hands. With a flicker, he was behind them. A kick sent one crashing through two trees. The other froze, unable to even breathe under the crushing weight of Tharion's presence.
When the dust settled, five Root operatives lay incapacitated on the ground. Not dead—though Tharion had chosen restraint—but broken enough to send a message.
He crouched by the last conscious one, gripping his mask and ripping it free, forcing the man to look him in the eye.
"Tell Danzo," Tharion growled, voice edged with the fury of his past, "if he ever sends his shadows against me again… I'll drown Root in the same darkness that made me. I know monsters, and I am far worse than anything he commands."
The operative, trembling, nodded frantically before Tharion knocked him unconscious.
When he returned to the training ground, his Genin were still running, panting but determined. None of them had seen what happened. Only Kakashi, who had been quietly observing from the distance, had caught a glimpse—and his single visible eye widened with awe and unease.
Tharion resumed as though nothing had happened. "Good. Push harder. The world won't wait for you to catch your breath."
But far in the depths of Root's hidden base, Danzo sat alone in the shadows, his single eye narrowing.
"He saw through them all… and crushed them like children," Danzo muttered. For the first time in years, something close to unease crept into his voice. "This man… he could be a greater threat than even the Uchiha."
That night, the Hidden Leaf was quiet, the moon casting pale silver light over the village rooftops. Tharion stood atop a ridge overlooking the training grounds, eyes scanning the village below. Even after a full day of training his Genin and supervising Kakashi, Anko, Iruka, and Guy, his senses had not dulled. He could feel the tremors of unease—subtle, but deliberate.
A shadow detached itself from the treeline. Danzo Shimura, moving with the silent precision of a predator, stepped forward, his cane tapping lightly against the stone. "You've made quite a statement today," Danzo said, his voice low, measured. "Crushing my Root operatives like that… I must admit, you are stronger than I imagined."
Tharion's golden eyes flicked toward him, cold and piercing. "I know exactly who sent them. And I know why."
Danzo's single eye narrowed, the other covered beneath his bandages. "Bold words for a man who's new to this village. You see shadows where there are none."
"I see everything," Tharion replied, stepping down from the ridge, his aura flaring just enough to make the air shimmer. "I sensed your involvement in the Uchiha tensions the moment I entered the council. Your manipulation, your lies… every move you made to provoke distrust, to pit families against each other—I've seen it all."
Danzo's hand tightened around his cane. "You have no proof. You're a newcomer—an outsider. Who will believe your claims over years of subtle work and influence?"
Tharion's expression darkened. "Proof isn't necessary when the people involved are already aware of the consequences of your actions. You've underestimated me because you think my power lies only in combat—but I see motives, I see lies, and I see intent. Do not mistake my restraint for ignorance."
Danzo's lips curled into a smirk. "And if I decide to ignore your warnings?"
Tharion stepped closer, his presence radiating an oppressive heat. His aura alone made the hairs on Danzo's arm stand on end. "Then I will ensure that your schemes crumble. I am not bound by politics, by rank, or by loyalty to anyone who endangers the innocent. You threaten the village, the Uchiha, or any child—and I will make you regret it."
For a moment, Danzo's usual composure wavered. He had faced powerful opponents before, but Tharion radiated something beyond physical strength—a predator's awareness, honed by years of survival and loss. He could feel it in his bones: this man would find him. No shadows, no secrets could hide him from Tharion's eyes.
"Be careful," Tharion said quietly, his gaze locking onto Danzo's. "I do not forgive. And I never forget."
Danzo straightened, forcing his smirk back into place. "Very well. We shall see who outlasts whom, newcomer."
As he disappeared back into the night, Tharion remained standing in the moonlight, every muscle tense, every sense alert. He had made his warning clear. Danzo Shimura knew he had been seen—and that knowledge would change everything.
Below in the village, the Hidden Leaf slept, unaware that a silent storm had already begun brewing in its shadows. And for Tharion, this was only the beginning.
The next morning, the Hidden Leaf was buzzing, but not in the usual way. Rumors had begun circulating within Root—though carefully hidden from ordinary shinobi—that something had gone wrong during the testing mission. Those operatives who had returned alive carried the unspoken weight of failure. Their normally disciplined and unwavering composure was shaken, and a whisper of fear ran through their ranks.
Tharion arrived at the training grounds early, long before the Genin batch or his fellow instructors appeared. He walked among the dummies and practice arenas, assessing the layout of the area as though the entire village itself were an extension of his battlefield. He could feel subtle traces of hesitation from those who had been part of the previous night's fiasco—Root had underestimated him, and that mistake had cost them. Now, even the whispers of Danzo's authority were faltering in the shadows.
By the time the Genin arrived, led by Iruka, Anko, and Guy, Tharion was already setting up drills, each designed to test instinct, reflexes, and teamwork under stress. But beneath the training, he could feel the tension in the air from the village itself—small pockets of unease, particularly from the Uchiha, who were wary of Root's influence. He knew this unrest would grow if left unchecked.
The first drill began with a coordinated survival test in the forested area near the training grounds. Genin were forced to navigate a maze of traps and ambush simulations, where Tharion and his instructors had strategically placed dummies that emitted chakra signatures meant to confuse and disorient.
"Remember," Tharion's voice carried across the field, authoritative yet calm, "a shinobi's skill isn't measured by who they defeat, but by how quickly they adapt to unexpected threats. Failure to adapt is failure to survive."
The Genin pressed forward, but subtle cues from Tharion's chakra presence tested their reaction times. Those who hesitated found themselves caught in simulated snares, while those who advanced boldly were met with controlled ambushes from his instructors. Kakashi's Sharingan, Guy's raw speed, Anko's cunning, and Iruka's precise timing created a multilayered environment where each Genin had to rely on both instinct and observation.
Meanwhile, word had reached the lower tiers of Root that Tharion had confronted Danzo personally. The operative leaders began second-guessing their orders, realizing that not only was Tharion overwhelmingly powerful, but he had also penetrated Danzo's strategies before anyone else could. Fear began to ripple outward—orders came in hesitantly, missions were questioned, and internal friction within Root started to weaken their once-unified front.
Back at the training grounds, Tharion wasn't unaware of this. His sharp senses could detect chakra signatures shifting in the village, subtle manipulations being attempted by those who now feared his reach. He adjusted the drills, integrating them with mental conditioning—forcing the Genin to recognize deception, anticipate ambushes, and maintain composure under uncertainty.
By midday, the first layer of drills was complete. Genin who had faltered were corrected, not with punishment but with demonstration. Tharion would summon a creature using his fake summoning jutsu—an imposing, spectral wolf-like beast—to chase down the slower students, teaching them fear management and proper strategy under pressure.
"Control your fear," he said, observing the young shinobi scramble. "Fear is a weapon. If you let it control you, it becomes your enemy. Control it, and it becomes your tool."
As the day progressed, Tharion's focus never wavered. He oversaw each Genin's growth, adjusted simulations, and simultaneously monitored the chakra flux throughout the village. Root's operatives attempted subtle infiltration again, but each attempt was met with precise countermeasures—sometimes through pure physical interception, sometimes through aura manipulation that made them overestimate his position. Tharion was teaching the Genin through example: vigilance was key, and knowledge of one's environment was as lethal as any jutsu.
By evening, exhaustion settled over the Genin, but their skills had noticeably improved. They moved with sharper coordination, adapted quicker to the ambushes, and even began reading each other's subtle cues without spoken commands.
Tharion stood alone on the ridge once more, watching the village. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction—Root's influence had been weakened, the Uchiha tension had not escalated, and his students were already learning the importance of vigilance.
Yet, in the back of his mind, the shadow of Danzo remained. He knew the man would try again. But Tharion also knew this: anyone who dared interfere in the Hidden Leaf, endanger its citizens, or attempt manipulation would face the full force of his resolve.
The Hidden Leaf's future was uncertain, but as long as he was there, its people and its next generation of shinobi had a guardian who could see through shadows—and act before danger struck.