oneshots

a shadow's balance

fandom : naruto
character : shimura danzo/oc
summary : what if danzo has someone like kenshi by his side?

shimura danzō stood in the training yard, his hand gripping a kunai as he focused on the target ahead. the wind was cool, brisk with the promise of coming rain. danzō had always been the quiet one, observing from the shadows, never at the forefront like hiruzen sarutobi. but beside him, as always, was kenshi—his best friend, his balance, the one constant that kept danzō from straying too far into the darkness.

kenshi leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching danzō with a relaxed but unwavering attention. unlike danzō, kenshi had no lofty dreams of power or leadership. he was content in his role, guiding danzō when necessary, even if the world didn’t know his name.

"you still thinking about that, danzō?" kenshi asked, his voice steady. he pushed off the tree and approached his friend, his presence grounding the volatile ambition danzō often tried to suppress.

danzō sighed, lowering his kunai. "the village needs strong leadership, kenshi. hiruzen... he’s too soft, too forgiving. konoha requires someone with the will to make the difficult decisions."

"right. and you think that someone is you?" kenshi raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with amusement. "i thought you were smarter than that. you’d hate the job."

"i wouldn’t hate it," danzō grumbled, but even he didn’t sound convinced. "i’d do what’s necessary. for konoha."

kenshi smiled faintly, circling him. "sure, sure. you'd make a fine hokage, but have you thought about the paperwork? the meetings? the endless hours listening to shinobi bicker over trivial things? trust me, you’ll miss all this—" he gestured to the open training grounds. "—the freedom. and more importantly, you’ll have less time for me."

danzō's stern expression faltered, and a brief, rare chuckle escaped him. "is that it? you’re worried i’ll spend more time working and less with you?"

kenshi shrugged. "someone’s got to keep you out of trouble. besides, a hokage’s life is boring. we both know you're not cut out for boredom."

danzō paused, glancing at his friend. "hiruzen’s idealism clouds his judgment. he won’t make the hard calls, and the village will suffer for it. do you think i’m wrong for wanting to protect konoha? to be in a position to do more?"

"not wrong," kenshi said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "but you’re looking at it the wrong way. protecting konoha doesn’t mean you need the hat. if anything, being hokage would put you in a cage. you’d have to play the game the way everyone else does. you’re not a politician, danzō. you’re a warrior, a tactician."

"i could still do more. set things right."

kenshi’s eyes softened. "danzō, you’ve always been about the village first. but don’t fool yourself into thinking you need power to protect it. you’ve already done more for konoha than most people ever will, and without the title."

danzō stayed silent for a moment, staring at the kunai in his hand. kenshi’s words, as usual, resonated with him in a way few others could manage. kenshi had always had that effect on him—balancing his ambitions, tempering the flames that often threatened to consume him.

"i’ve always been by your side, haven’t i?" kenshi continued. "from the academy, through the war, even when you made decisions that i didn’t agree with. i didn’t let you cross the line, and you listened. you’re not the same as the danzō you could have been without me. the village might never know it, but you’ve been the reason we’ve kept it safe."

danzō nodded, turning to face him. "you’ve kept me from... straying too far."

kenshi smirked. "exactly. so why change that now? let someone else take the hat and play the part of the hokage. let’s be honest, most of them don’t have the spine to make the tough calls, but they’ll handle the day-to-day. we can still protect konoha—just like we always have—without the title."

danzō clenched his jaw, his mind churning with thoughts of leadership, responsibility, and ambition. but kenshi was right. the role of hokage would constrain him, trap him in bureaucracy and obligations that would keep him from truly protecting the village the way he knew it needed to be protected.

"maybe you’re right," danzō said finally, his voice quieter now. "it’s not about the title. it’s about the village. always has been."

kenshi patted him on the back, grinning. "now you’re talking sense. besides, you’d make a terrible hokage. too serious. you’d have everyone in the village terrified of you."

danzō shot him a sharp look, but there was no malice in it. "and you? what would you do without me?"

kenshi laughed. "please. i’d get bored in a week without you around to keep things interesting. konoha needs you, danzō. i need you. just... not in that chair."

danzō nodded, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. he wasn’t a hokage, and perhaps he never would be. but with kenshi by his side, guiding him, challenging him, he knew they could still protect jonoha—no matter the cost.

and for danzō, that was enough.

as they walked away from the training grounds, danzō glanced at kenshi, who seemed utterly content. "you really think i’d be that bad as hokage?"

kenshi grinned. "worst decision the village could make. good thing we’re keeping you out of it."

danzō smirked, shaking his head. he may never wear the hat, but with kenshi’s wisdom, he would always remain konoha’s silent protector—its shadow, tempered by the light of a single, unyielding friend.