In more ways than one, you reminded Danzo of Itachi; strong, prodigious, and reserved, you were the ideal person to manipulate to his whims. The day that you had officially became apart of the ANBU, Danzo was appointing you to arduous missions and experienced teams that surpassed your experience.

The room smelled of methanol. You had gotten injured yet again. Danzo stood at your side, his indiscernible gaze flickering over your bandages. There was no furrow to his brow, though he was tight–lipped.

“Again?” Danzo spoke, his steady voice breaking the tense silence of the hospital room. “What happened this time?”