The black scroll unfurled with a faint hiss, like a serpent shedding its skin. Inside was no threat, no direct command—just an offer.
"We have seen your potential. The world you imagine on the page can become reality—with the right guidance. Join Root. Serve Konoha in the shadows. Lead with truth, not illusion."
Beneath the message was a single seal. A handprint. Blank.
If he pressed his chakra into it, they'd know. It would mean acceptance. And there would be no turning back.
Oliver stared at it.
He thought about Naruto's grin, about Ino's words, about Kakashi's warning. He thought about Clarke Kent—and how that story started with hope, not fear.
And then he thought about Danzo.
Elsewhere — Ichiraku Ramen
Naruto and Choji sat hunched over steaming bowls.
"You see the new chapter yet?" Choji asked between bites.
Naruto nearly choked on his noodles. "Duh! Clarke took on, like, four assassins with nothing but his instincts and willpower! So cool!"
A kid at the next table held up the manga. "My mom said Clarke's speeches remind her of the First Hokage."
Iruka, sitting nearby with a cup of tea, smiled faintly at the conversation.
He turned to Asuma, who was smoking lazily. "They're starting to believe in this world Oliver's building."
Asuma nodded. "He's got something most kids don't: a voice. And people are listening."
That Night — Oliver's Apartment
The scroll sat on the floor.
Oliver lit a candle. Pulled out ink. Not to sign it.
But to write.
He opened his manga notebook and began outlining the next chapter of Clarke Kent. The title came first, bold and defiant:
"The Hero Who Said No."
In the story, Clarke was approached by a hidden faction—a shadow council offering him influence, power, and secrets. But he turned them down. Not because he didn't want to help… but because he refused to help from the shadows.
"If I have to hide my dreams to make them real," Clarke said, "then maybe they were never dreams to begin with."
Oliver smirked, satisfied.
He folded the scroll back up, untouched, and dropped it into the fire.
Root Headquarters — A Flicker of Flame
In the dark corridors beneath Konoha, a Root operative watched the flame die in a sensor orb.
Danzo's lips curled into a frown.
"He's made his choice," the operative reported.
Danzo turned away.
"Then we prepare for the next phase. If he will not join us…"
He paused, eyes like daggers beneath his bandages.
"…he will become our enemy."
Even as the scroll burned to ash in the firelight, Oliver's mind was elsewhere—already a step ahead.
He knew Danzo.
Not personally. Not through conversation.
But through patterns. Through history. Through observation.
Danzo's fear wasn't about manga, or public influence, or even change. It was about control. Losing it. And Oliver represented a future he couldn't shape, couldn't predict, and worst of all—couldn't silence.
"He thinks I'm just another pawn," Oliver muttered, watching the last ember vanish. "But he's playing chess with someone who's seen the whole board."
Flashback – Two Days Earlier
Oliver stood behind the Hokage Monument, sketchbook in hand, watching the rooftops. He'd sensed it again—Root operatives, just on the edge of his vision, vanishing the moment he looked.
But he didn't panic.
He observed.
And the more he watched, the more he noticed: Danzo wasn't just watching him. He was planting seeds, whispering into the ears of older shinobi, tugging at the fraying edges of tradition.
One night, Oliver followed a trail. A Root agent slipped from a civilian printing shop—the same one helping Oliver duplicate Clarke Kent. A subtle threat? A warning?
Maybe.
But it confirmed what Oliver suspected.
Danzo wasn't interested in protecting the village.
He wanted to own it.
Back in the Present
Oliver scribbled something in the margins of his manga notebook:
"A true villain doesn't wear a mask to hide their face.
They wear it to hide the truth."
He didn't need to expose Danzo publicly—not yet. But in his next chapter of Clarke Kent, the villain would speak in riddles, in half-truths, twisting the words of loyalty into chains.
Let the people read. Let them wonder.
Let Danzo see his own reflection in the panels.
Danzo's Office — Late Night
Another report lay open on the desk. Oliver had refused the invitation. Publicly, he said nothing. But in action, he had made his stance clear.
"He knows," Danzo muttered.
The shadows shifted as a Root captain emerged. "Should we proceed to Phase Two?"
Danzo closed the file slowly. "Not yet. Let him grow confident. Let him gather followers."
He turned toward the candle.
"Then… we take everything."