Inoichi would bet a sizable amount of ryo that the little girl strapped to Danzo’s chest had overheard more s-rated secrets than most of Konoha’s council. It was frustrating at times to think that a toddler, whether she understood the things going on around her or not, was better informed than he was but such was just another unfortunate consequence of whatever bad karma the village had racked up to get Danzo put in charge.
He tended to ignore the rumors that something was Off about the Honorable Granddaughter, mostly because he didn’t really need to listen to the rumors when he could just as easily witness it himself when he brought in reports.
Inocich had survived the third war, had clawed his way to the top of intelligence at an almost ludicrously young age and proven he had the sheer talent and cunning to deserve the concessions his clan status had allowed him. He’d parsed through the minds of Konoha’s most wicked enemies, dragged secrets from unwilling shinobi and been cursed to his next five generations for his work. He wasn’t a man easily undone or disturbed but there was something Wrong with Shimura Moriko.
Eyes like hers did not belong on the faces of children.
“This is all the information we were able to collect from the unit, based on the girl’s apparent alliance with the missing-nin Hatake we have her slated for the next printing of Konoha’s bingo book,” Shikabane-hime was a ridiculous name, a bad joke if he’d ever heard one and with her apparent usage of his best friend’s clan jutsu it was something to be carefully compartmentalized until he and his teammates could address the subject privately so they could present a unified front to any suspicions and accusations, “A composite sketch is being made and will be distributed to all ANBU hunter teams in addition to any further news of Hatake.”
Personally, Inoichi thought the continued efforts to kill Hatake were a waste of village resources but in Danzo’s regime, it was no longer his place to criticize. Danzo slowly took the proffered papers, carefully reading over each detail presumably for some manner of slight to criticize. Inoichi’s eyes were drawn to the ever-present sling and the child tucked carefully within it. She was small for her age, or at least smaller than Ino had been and disturbingly calmer. If Ino had been in her place, forced to stay quiet and still through the long office hours the Hokage’s seat demanded it would have culminated in a meltdown to end all meltdowns.
The Honorable Granddaughter was blank. At times it seemed like her eyes glazed over but not with the gentle look of a half-sleeping child but that of a battered shinobi after a fight. Inoichi knew that Danzo was ruthless, knew that he was of the generation where pre-village views of child soldiers still lingered but...but this was his Granddaughter.
Danzo shifted, and Inoichi was pulled from his morbidity as the hokage stamped the document with his seal, jostling the Honorable Granddaughter enough for her to squirm. Her eyes flickered around the room and she caught sight of him, blinking owlishly as if she’d only just noticed his presence. Ino would have clambered out of the harness and across the desk at the prospect of a new interesting stranger to play with, The Honorable Granddaughter only stared at him with wide dark eyes. He’d met Uchiha with less intense stares.
At least he had the good sense not to shudder until he was properly dismissed and out of the room. Children shouldn’t have eyes like that, but who knew what those wide eyes had seen.
