That night was long, and much happened.
Danzo sat against the Stone Wall inside the Iron bars, his back pressed to the cold rock. His right eye socket was empty, and the three bloody holes in his left arm had scabbed over dark purple. A layer of straw lay beneath him. A few stalks had worked into the seams of his trousers and prickled his skin.
The torch in the corridor had burned for half the night. Its oil was nearly gone, and the flame had faded from orange-Kurenai to dull orange, barely clinging to life in its Iron bracket.
Footsteps came from the far end of the corridor.
Danzo slowly opened his remaining eye.
Uchiha Itachi stepped out of the shadows.
Moonlight spilled through the window at the end of the corridor and fell across his face, leaving half of his cold features lit and half in darkness. The lit half was pale as paper. The half hidden in shadow looked like a ghost.
His eyes were black.
Not the scarlet of the Sharingan, but ordinary black. Yet the chill seeping from them sent a deeper shiver down the spine than any Sharingan could.
Danzo narrowed his eye, then slowly opened it again. Relief and worry mingled in his heart.
Relief.
Judging by Uchiha Itachi's grim expression, Sasuke was probably finished. Torune Aburame had succeeded. Even if the brat wasn't dead, he wouldn't live much longer.
Worry.
Itachi's expression held more than gloom. Killing intent seemed to seep from his very bones!
It was aimed at Danzo!
The hound he had trained for years was showing signs of turning on its master!
He had to bring him under control!
Danzo struck first.
He pulled his back away from the Stone Wall and leaned forward slightly. Fixing his eye on