#[thread:misdirection]

The procession that passes through dank corridors is silent and purposeful, allowed passage without question where any other group of shinobi would be halted in a heartbeat. This doesn’t mean that the nervous pretense of nothing untoward happening would be maintained on both sides, however; the one leading the small unit was much too cautious for that.

Masked figures flanking either side of the foremost cloaked shinobi, who was not particularly impressive in stature yet commanding in his presence, split off from the advance he spearheaded, through doors where guards were taking their breaks or resting between shifts. But his path is direct, leading him straight to the most highly guarded cell in the building

Orochimaru spares little time in expressing the desire for privacy in their greeting of him when he enters the room proper, and sure enough the last possible witnesses of this meeting hurry away from the caged viper with gazes averted. No doubt they were eager enough already to pass the baton of this particular watch onto those who are by now already accosted, and in a lapse of caution they too find themselves seized by uncompromising gloved hands before being ushered into the shadows.

They are alone now, right on time for Danzō to see the flickering of two yellow irises as they train more directly upon him, glinting like coins in the dark before their approaching figure is revealed by the fire of a single sconce that does very little to warm the prison’s inherent gloom.

The reasons Danzō had yet to put his seal upon the snake’s tongue were numerous enough to be uncertain, and that fact doesn’t sit well with him despite his aura of absolute calm. Still, it had proven to be a decision well made thus far, with Hiruzen seemingly none the wiser to what some of these rumoured experiments of Orochimaru’s were in aid of. He was also prudent enough not to assume that mere paralysis would stop one so stubborn and conniving from spilling his secrets some other way, if they felt they were being slighted or disrespected. 

But a simple act of trust placed in them? One that set them above all the others in ROOT? Apparently that was the only thing required to seal their trust in him, in turn. A dangerous balancing act, but worth the risk.

That his fool of a friend was too preoccupied with despair at his precious student's fall from grace, under his very own watch no less, and to a degree where he was blinded to what may lie in the undergrowth, was one thing to lessen his worries—not to mention immensely satisfying. That the righteous Sarutobi Hiruzen would fail to see what his very own neglect was doing over years, having once showered the young and impressionable serpent so carelessly with his praise and his pride, only to have that pride he’d overfed then starved turn around and bite him right back... 

The irony of that would be astounding to Danzō, were it not for the knowledge that he was staring into the ghost-like face of repeated history. 

A scorned student, the stifling of a rare genius, the arbitrary judgement of character, the double standards inherent in certain views of right and wrong... It was little wonder that things had turned out this way, given the foolish ideals that had been allowed to persist through the years. But he was all too glad to pick up the pieces in this instance, and reap the rewards. Only a fool would pass up the chance to have one with Orochimaru’s limitless genius and insatiable curiosity on his side, after all, and surely they too could see in him an opportunity to go against the grain that had been expected of them. The chance to delve into the darker necessities that protecting and furthering a society entailed.

Of course, he at least had some subtlety about it all, whereas subtlety was clearly a work in progress for them—a thought that sees his already stony visage intensifying a shade as he comes before bars gnawed by the onset of rust, his features darkening more than ought to be possible in this already pervasive gloom.

❝Easier yet would be not to have gotten caught,❞ he states simply, with none of his internal agitation bleeding into his voice, but certainly just enough frost to illustrate that he isn’t impressed by their sloppiness. The pride and delight they seemed to show in terrorising others was unbecoming, which was bad enough… but more than that, it was too obvious. As if they had tried to be caught.

A cry for attention, perhaps, but a cry that was very dangerous to him by proxy. And this, Danzō decides in this moment, was where Hiruzen had gone so terribly wrong.

Having plied Orochimaru with all they wanted at their loneliest and most in need of care, he was too careless to see what turning a blind eye would do. Too soft to put his foot down until it was too late. Too short-sighted in letting them think they were destined to be something much greater than a tool, in fostering an ego stretched to such brittleness that the first instance of being told ‘no’ had it crumbling to pieces. 

Within the serpent a certain entitlement had been nurtured by a fool that was only ever half-committed to nurturing them, and the Shimura could recognise how he too was playing with fire by involving himself more deeply at this stage... but he was quietly confident, nonetheless. Certain admonishment was needed at times, no doubt, to remind prodigious shinobi of their true place—but to finely balance that with praise and recognition where it was due, to paint oneself as a presence of unwavering reliability... Now that was the true art of sealing alliances, of having even the most rebellious individuals fall into a position of aiding him whether they intended it or not. It was an art he’d perfected.

Still, his remaining eye softens the barest touch, a gesture quite easy to miss depending on whether the viper is in the mental space to notice such things. Beneath the wrappings covering what was once his right eye, the hollowness of the empty socket is still a jarring sensation to him, and his depth perception askew enough that he has to take care not to visibly fumble when he gropes for the inside pocket of his cloak. By now, there was supposed to be a Sharingan in place of the unremarkable hazel eye he once possessed, but the toll on a body not born to wield such a leech on one’s physical resources had been too great a risk. 

Without Orochimaru, he wouldn’t be able to continue on this path, so the bitter would need to be balanced with the sweet in his dealings with them; for while Danzō had no shortage of pride, he did possess grace enough to admit when he needed help.

A key is produced from the void of his cloak, and his aim now falters less in finding the hole in the lock, his eye focused on doing so to reduce the apparent impact of his handicap.

❝That frightening look in your eyes certainly won’t help your case,❞ he adds, turning the key with no care spared for the noise it would make as the barrels grind and clunk into position—almost pointedly careless as he adds, ❝that is, if the guards happen to remember it.❞

They will no doubt understand his meaning here. Seldom did Danzō carry out any cloak and dagger dealings without a Yamanaka present to erase what needed to be erased, or tweak what needed to be tweaked. A trace of a smirk touches his perpetually downturned mouth then, as he returns a cool gaze back up at them—much cooler than theirs, which is molten in their fight or flight state.

❝Hiruzen, on the other hand... I think it best that he remembers whatever moment it was you two shared, don’t you?❞

The moment his reputation was forever stained. The type of stain that only smeared when one tried to scrub it away. 

Of course, nobody would ever say out loud that the sheer lack of resolve and clear bias towards his insubordinate student had knocked him down a few pegs in their estimation, but Danzō could tell people were beginning to think it. Were beginning to doubt that he had the mettle for his job after all.

For now, the shackles holding Orochimaru in place are left as they are, weighted around slender wrists, with Danzō opting to step into the cell having slid the door open with a series of shuddering clanks. He spares no time in removing the muzzle from them himself, his manner careful yet practical—another display of his trust. Then, as if by some silent command, a masked ROOT agent appears by the Shimura’s side in a puff of smoke before moving to stand by the viper’s. A henge is performed, resulting in a second Orochimaru, who then places the muzzle around their own mouth.

But the exchange isn’t quite finished yet. The final stage comes when Danzō touches the tips of his first two fingers to each of their chests, upon which rows of grass script wriggle down the man’s arms like dozens of centipedes before emblazoning the sternum of each Orochimaru—both real and fake—with a completed seal.

❝A misdirection seal, to swap chakra signatures between parties,❞ he explains, then produces further keys to unlock their shackles and affix them to the transformed agent instead. Now they are completely free, and from simple appearance down to chakra signature, the reconditioned guards would be even less the wiser. For now, at least.