Chapter 6: Shadows of Power: The Gathering or Beneath the Surface: Secrets, Suspicions, and Slander
Homura Mitokado stepped forward, irritation flashing across his face as he locked eyes with the Hokage. "Hiruzen, do you really think it's necessary to call in the Shinobi Council for this? It seems excessive. We can handle this without stirring the entire village."
He knew he was pushing a boundary, which was why his manners were slipping, but he couldn't let the Clan Elders get involved. Not now. Once they became entangled, Hiruzen would have the backing to block any further attempts to eliminate the boy. The brat's survival meant everything was at risk.
Homura's hand twitched at his side, fingers curling as if they could somehow grasp control of the situation slipping away. No, the Elders would ruin everything.
But Hiruzen wasn't swayed by the plea. He turned slowly to face Homura, his dark eyes narrowing with a steely, measured calm that was far more dangerous than any outburst. His voice, though soft, carried a deadly edge. "Homura, the next time I have to remind you—or anyone in this room—to use my title or honorifics, it will not be with words. It will be at the edge of a kunai. Have I made myself clear?"
A collective silence fell across the room, more oppressive than a sudden gale. The weight of Hiruzen's ki surged through the chamber, crashing into everyone present. Even the air itself seemed to bend under the force of his chakra, the wood beneath his feet creaking as though it would give way.
A low hum reverberated through the space, an ominous undercurrent that made even the most hardened council members stiffen, their breaths suddenly shallow, as though each inhalation carried a danger of its own.
"And let me remind all of you," Hiruzen continued, his voice cutting through the tension with the authority of an executioner's axe, "this is not a matter of choice. As signatories of the Shinobi Accords, we are bound by its tenets—by law. That means summoning all three sides of the Council when decisions of this magnitude arise."
Homura's jaw tightened, his fingernails biting into his palm. He couldn't let this escalate. If the Clan Elders were summoned, the whole plan would unravel. The shinobi clans were too closely tied to Hiruzen's ideals—too loyal to the boy's legacy. Damn it, this isn't going to work, he thought as he clenched his hands tighter. He needed to keep Hiruzen contained, keep the control within the Civilian Council. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably, likely feeling the same unbearable weight of Sarutobi's chakra that Homura did.
Hiruzen's gaze swept across the room, his presence growing, filling the chamber until there was nowhere to hide. "We are at an elevated threat level, and during times of war, or any comparable situation, the Accords demand full Council input on critical decisions."
Homura's heart raced, pounding like war drums in his chest. He opened his mouth to object, to find some small opening to maneuver, but Hiruzen's words slammed into him like a wall.
"You would know this, Homura, if you had consulted with the Fire Lord's ambassador, who, I notice, is also conspicuously absent from these proceedings. How odd? A decision of this weight, and the representative of the Daimyō isn't here."
The floor seemed to sway beneath him. Homura couldn't afford any more missteps. If Hiruzen involved the Fire Lord, it would be over. He tried to wet his lips, but his mouth had gone dry. The Hokage's gaze pinned him in place, cold and unrelenting.
Hiruzen's chakra flared once more, and the room seemed to tighten, as though the very walls pressed inward. "Let me also remind you that by trying to circumvent this law, you've all committed a serious offense. Had I chosen to enforce it to the letter, each of you would already be under arrest, facing execution for treason against the village. You knowingly attempted to bypass the very laws that have protected us for decades. I could have every one of you taken away in chains."
Homura's pulse roared in his ears. His limbs felt heavy, leaden under the suffocating weight of Hiruzen's presence. The crushing force of his chakra constricted his chest, as if a giant hand were squeezing the very air from his lungs. Too far, I've gone too far, Homura thought, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple. But he couldn't retreat now; he couldn't show weakness. Not with Koharu watching.
But the pressure was unbearable.
Homura's knees threatened to buckle beneath him, his vision dimming at the edges as if the world itself were collapsing around him. His hands, once so steady and firm from years of leadership, now trembled uncontrollably at his sides.
The once-confident fingers twitched, betraying his internal battle for control. His pride screamed at him to stand tall, to hold on to whatever dignity he had left, but every instinct—every primal urge in his body—begged him to kneel, to submit, to beg for mercy.
Self-preservation, in the end, won out.
"H-Hokage-sama…" His voice cracked, the brittle edge of it slicing through the suffocating silence. His usual confidence, so carefully cultivated over the years, dissolved into a quivering plea, a man teetering on the edge of breaking. The pressure around him was relentless, pressing down on him like the weight of the world. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, forcing the words out in a rush. "I… I didn't mean to question the protocol. It's just—"
The rest of his sentence died on his lips, smothered by the overwhelming presence of Hiruzen's killing intent, which still lingered like an oppressive shadow in the room.
Homura's knees buckled slightly as his pride shattered, leaving only fear and regret in its place. His legs wobbled, threatening to give out completely as he stood there, exposed and vulnerable before the Third Hokage.
Never had he felt so small, so utterly powerless.
He dared a glance at Hiruzen, but quickly regretted it. The Hokage's eyes were like daggers, unyielding, piercing through him with unspoken condemnation. Homura's voice faltered, then broke entirely under the weight of that gaze.
"I… I only thought… we should be cautious," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper now. "I—We didn't mean any disrespect to the Accords, Hokage-sama. Of course, you're right."
He felt the shame of his words, each one dragging him lower. His back hunched under the unseen weight of Hiruzen's presence, and as the silence stretched out unbearably, he could feel every eye in the room on him.
He risked another glance at Koharu, desperate for some signal, some lifeline. But she sat stone-still beside him, her face unreadable, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Not even she would speak now.
With a final sigh of defeat, Homura sank heavily into his seat beside her, shoulders sagging as the last remnants of his resolve crumbled. His once-proud posture was now bent, his spirit ground down under the crushing reality of Sarutobi's authority.
Koharu, still silent, cast a fleeting glance in Homura's direction, her sharp eyes now dull with resignation. They had miscalculated—and the weight of that mistake pressed down on them both, suffocating and relentless.
Hiruzen sat at his desk, Naruto nestled securely in his arms, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the U-shaped table below. His muscles tensed slightly beneath his robes, a barely perceptible flex, as he shifted his grip on the infant, ensuring the child remained cradled against his chest. The baby slept soundly, unaware of the silent war raging in the hearts and minds of the people in the room. Unaware of the dangers that infested, a world awaited him.
Hiruzen's gaze drifted toward the center section, where his Advisors were seated. He paused, noting once again the conspicuous absence of Danzo. The chair that should have held the head of Root stood empty, cold, and untouched, its vacancy gnawing at the back of Hiruzen's mind. Still not here…
Now that I think about it… where was Danzo's precious Root during the Bijū attack? The thought gnawed at him, bitter and sharp. He shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers brushing Naruto's soft cheek. His face remained the picture of stoic leadership, but beneath the calm façade, questions stirred. Not a single one of his operatives showed up until after the Bijū was sealed. How convenient…
His eyes lingered on the empty chair, his thoughts darkening. Danzo… you always seem to disappear when the village is at its most vulnerable. It was a pattern Hiruzen had observed too many times to dismiss. For all of Danzo's posturing about protecting the village at any cost, his actions were far too opportunistic, too self-serving. And now, just when decisions needed to be made about Naruto's future, Danzo's absence felt more calculated than ever.
Hiruzen's brow furrowed, suspicion blooming like a poisonous weed in the back of his mind. His gaze flickered back to the rest of the room, his voice steady as he prepared to address the council, but his thoughts remained focused on Danzo. You weren't at the front lines. You didn't lend your strength when it mattered most. And now, you slink in the shadows, no doubt plotting your next move.
Naruto stirred softly against his chest, a small sigh escaping the infant as he snuggled closer. The warmth of the child grounded Hiruzen, reminding him of the immense responsibility that now rested in his hands.
His grip on the boy tightened slightly, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. The child's future and the village's future were intertwined—and Hiruzen wouldn't let Danzo, or anyone else, manipulate either for their gain. He was the Hokage again, and he refused to let his guard down this time around.
Hiruzen's eyes returned to the council, his tone unwavering as the weight of his authority filled the room. Yet, in the back of his mind, he kept thinking of Danzo, the empty chair standing as a silent accusation.
The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of paper—his chakra flaring ever so slightly, causing the documents on the desk to tremble in response. The wooden legs of the furniture creaked under the pressure of his fluctuating energy. He made no effort to suppress it, allowing the Council to feel his irritation as it rippled through the air.
"Now that that slight misunderstanding has been corrected," Hiruzen's voice was deceptively mild, but it cut through the room like a kunai through butter, "would any of you like to tell me where the hell my esteemed Advisor, Danzo, is?"
His eyes moved slowly across the Council, gauging their expressions before settling briefly on Homura, then Koharu.
Koharu looked… if Hiruzen had to give it a word—uncomfortable, not guilty, just… really uncomfortable. Your partner Homura left out a few details, huh Kaharu?
Next to her, said partner avoided his gaze like the plague, fidgeting slightly, adjusting his glasses with a stiff, deliberate movement. The creases of his face twitched, the only visible sign of the old Advisor's unease.
Hiruzen's fingers drummed against his desk, his expression thoughtful. *He's nervous,* he noted through narrowed eyes, but that's probably because Homura considers Danzo's absence an unknown, and he can't accurately factor it into his plans.
There was a subtle intake of breath from several Council members. They exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared meet his gaze directly. The Hokage's chakra flared again, and more papers on the table fluttered, scattering slightly. Hiruzen allowed his scorn to settle heavily over the room, his tone razor-edged. "I have some questions I would like to ask him."
The silence that followed was deafening. Homura shifted once more, glancing sideways at Koharu. His thoughts swirled, though he kept his expression unreadable. What game is Danzo playing?
After an awkward moment, the Council members all shook their heads in unison. Hiruzen's lips curled into a thin smile devoid of warmth. "Pity," he muttered, almost to himself, "but I'm sure he will turn up eventually."
He allowed the silence to settle again, this time heavier and more oppressive. His gaze lingered on Homura, watching the subtle body language of his old comrade, noting every slight twitch and every minute attempt to mask discomfort.
Enemies everywhere. Hiruzen lowered his head so the hat hid his expression and sighed. *Even you can't hide your unease, Homura. This isn't just about Danzo, is it? What else are you hiding from me, old friend?*
This last thought was a bit bittersweet because he couldn't recall the last time he considered Homura a friend.
As he continued to wait, Hiruzen's posture was deceptively relaxed, though his fingers continued their rhythmic drumming. The sound echoed like a countdown to what; no one was sure, yet everyone was confident they didn't want to be here when it reached zero.
While the Council fidgeted nervously, Hiruzen's suspicions continued to churn. Danzo, you always think you're one step ahead, but this time… this time, I will not let you slither out of my sight.
Twenty minutes passed, and the tension in the room thickened like a coiling snake. Naruto stirred slightly in his arms, but Hiruzen remained steady, unyielding, waiting. His sharp eyes scanning the half-filled council chamber. His fingers tightened around the tiny bundle in his arms, Naruto's warm weight grounding him amid the chaos swirling in his mind.
The Shinobi Council's absence was glaring, as was the empty seat that should have been occupied by Danzo.
The man had always thrived on stirring trouble behind the scenes, but today, even in his absence, Hiruzen could feel his shadow lurking. His lips pressed into a thin line, irritation prickling his skin like nettles.
Hiruzen adjusted the brim of his hat, the shadow covering his stern features. He exhaled slowly through his nose, attempting to mask his growing frustration.
His fingers tightened around the soft fabric of the swaddling blanket, the warmth of Naruto's small form grounding him against the rising storm within. A storm that threatened to erupt at the thought of individuals attempting to twist the tragedy of the Bijū attack for personal gain.
His gaze drifted sharply toward Homura, who sat at the Advisor table, arms crossed and face set in impassive concentration. Yet, Hiruzen didn't miss the fleeting glances Homura kept stealing toward Naruto, quick flickers of interest that sparked suspicion in the old Hokage's chest.
Hiruzen's grip tightened imperceptibly. Homura's calculating expression, paired with his silent watchfulness, sent a cold tendril of unease winding through Hiruzen's resolve.
Homura shifted, lips pursing as though mulling over something, his eyes flicking back to the bundle in Hiruzen's arms as if weighing a decision. It was subtle but, to the Hokage, painfully obvious.
As if he felt the malicious thoughts, the baby began to fuss. With a soft murmur, Hiruzen reassured Naruto, drawing his chakra around him like a warm blanket. His grip on the boy tightened slightly, the familiar weight calming his irritation as he turned back to the council.
The Hokage sat there, calm and unmoving, but Homura could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on him.
The room felt too quiet, too exposed. Homura shifted, his fingers fidgeting at his sides as he forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The ANBU had left, and it was only a matter of time before the first of the Clan Heads entered.
He clenched his hands to steady them, forcing his thoughts to remain clear, but the desperation was hard to suppress. He had to tread carefully now. Hiruzen had always been too perceptive, and at this moment, it felt like the old Hokage could smell the desperation clinging to him like a scent in the air.
Of course, it had been a long time since Hiruzen truly trusted him as anything other than an Advisor in name only, so it was no surprise that he was watching him. No, it was the weight behind that stare that made remaining outwardly calm so damn hard.
To distract himself, Homura focused on his thoughts, calculating every possible move, every potential outcome. The boy—no, the demon brat—needed to be dealt with, but how? His mind raced, searching for an opportunity, a method that wouldn't expose him.
Hiruzen gave nothing away, as always, but Homura sensed a shift, a flicker in his eyes. He'd struck a nerve. Good. It meant he still had some leverage, some space to maneuver. All he needed was patience.
Homura's body language betrayed him even before the clan heads arrived. His movements were too controlled, too deliberate, as if rehearsed to maintain an air of calm. But Hiruzen saw through it.
He could almost hear the gears turning in Homura's mind, the way he was already calculating, already searching for weaknesses he might exploit once the elders arrived.
Homura's eyes would be on each of them, weighing their strengths, their perceived weaknesses, and or any potential alliances.
Hiruzen knew what he was planning, but it wouldn't matter. Not today. Not while he was here, holding Naruto—the future of Konoha—securely in his arms.
Even without the clan heads present, the power dynamic was clear, and Hiruzen had no intention of letting Homura's schemes, whatever they were, come to fruition.
The door creaked open, pulling Hiruzen's attention. His posture straightened, and he glanced toward the entrance as Katsuhiro Renjiro, the Daimyō's Ambassador to Konohagakure, entered the room. The faint scent of incense clung to the man's robes as he stepped in with the grace of someone who knew his presence commanded respect.
Homura's lips parted as if to speak, but Katsuhiro barely spared him a glance. The ambassador's steps were measured, purposeful, as he bypassed Homura entirely, heading straight for Hiruzen. It was a slight, no doubt intentional. Hiruzen's eyes met Katsuhiro's, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The two exchanged hushed words, their conversation too low for the rest of the council to hear. For Hiruzen, it was a relief to talk to someone he could mostly trust finally. Whatever Katsuhiro asked, it led Hiruzen to adjust Naruto in his arms, peeling back the blanket that shielded the boy from view.
Naruto squirmed slightly, his tiny face scrunched in a way that made Katsuhiro pause. There was something about the child—an innocence, a raw potential—that caught the Ambassador off guard. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the noise of the chamber fell away. He saw something in the boy's wide, unfocused gaze that stirred something deep within him. Despite the burden of the situation, a flicker of warmth blossomed in his chest, softening his scowl.
With a silent nod, Hiruzen responded to Katsuhiro's question, his eyes lingering on Naruto a second longer than necessary. He carefully covered the boy once again, feeling a wave of protectiveness surge through him.
The ambassador inclined his head and made his way to his seat, located on the right side of Hiruzen's dais but slightly lower. The movement was fluid, practiced, and deliberate—Katsuhiro knew exactly the power he wielded in the room.
As the ambassador took his place, Hiruzen's gaze shifted back to Homura, his eyes narrowing. The papers on the council's table rattled once more, a subtle reminder of the Hokage's displeasure.
Homura stilled, the tension in his shoulders visible as he realized his maneuvering had been undercut before it even began. Hiruzen's tone, when he spoke, was sharp, cutting through the silence like the crack of a whip.
"I suggest, Homura," he began, his voice cold and scathing, "that whatever schemes you're plotting are abandoned immediately. There will be no further discussion of the child."
Homura stiffened, his hands flexing at his sides, but he said nothing, his frustration evident in the tightening of his jaw. Hiruzen, noticing the subtle gesture, merely shifted Naruto slightly in his arms, the infant's soft weight grounding him amidst the mounting tension. Even in the face of betrayal and politics, Hiruzen knew there were things more precious than power—Naruto was a reminder of that.
The room remained heavy with silence for what felt like an eternity. Minutes ticked by, each one dragging the tension tighter, until finally, the air shifted. The door at the far end of the chamber slid open with a quiet thud, the sound pulling all eyes toward it.
The first to arrive was Shibi Aburame. His tall, imposing figure was wrapped in the signature grey trench coat of the Aburame clan, his visor concealing his eyes behind four thin slits, giving him an eerie, insect-like appearance—cold and detached. The long, muted cloak billowed slightly as he entered, its fabric brushing against the ground like a whisper. His movements were precise and silent, much like the swarms of insects that resided within him.
Hiruzen's gaze followed the clan head as he moved to his seat, the contrast between Shibi's calm demeanor and the crackling tension in the room only amplifying the unease.
The Aburame elder was known for his calculating nature, his presence often unnerving those unaccustomed to the stillness that seemed to envelop him. Shibi gave no greeting, no acknowledgment to anyone, simply taking his place as if the weight of the room's tension was of no concern to him.
Reliable as ever, Hiruzen mused, noting how Shibi's quiet authority seemed to bring a strange sense of balance to the room. Still, the question remained—where was Danzo?
Shibi's appearance signaled the arrival of the Shinobi Council, but the absence of the Root leader lingered, a shadow that refused to dissipate. Hiruzen kept his expression calm, though internally his thoughts raced. Danzo, my old friend, you can't hide forever. Eventually, his motives will come to light, and when they do…
Hiruzen pulled Naruto closer, feeling the weight of the infant against his chest, a stark reminder that the battles he faced were not just against visible enemies, but against those who operated in the shadows.
The Aburame clan's reputation for their unnerving use of insects was well-known. These symbiotic insects, which lived inside their bodies, were more than weapons—they were living defense systems, bred to siphon chakra from enemies and return it to their host.
Stealthy, adaptable, and lethal, they could scout, attack, and defend, all while remaining invisible to the naked eye. Yet their presence was always felt—a quiet, crawling sensation that left an unsettling aura in the room.
As Shibi Aburame entered the chamber, the temperature seemed to drop. His movements were fluid and controlled, as though every step had been calculated for efficiency. The faint rustling of insects beneath his cloak added to the eerie atmosphere he brought with him. Though the room was already tense, his entrance thickened it, a chill that reassured the Hokage but unnerved others. Shibi sat, his presence lingering like a cold mist.
The atmosphere shifted once more as the door opened again, and Choza Akimichi stepped in, his large frame exuding strength. A stark contrast to Shibi's ghostly quiet, Choza's confident stride reflected the Akimichi clan's pride and power. The Akimichi were renowned for their ability to enlarge their bodies with Yang Release, a symbol of their raw physical dominance in battle. Yet, they were also known for their teamwork—especially the legendary Ino-Shika-Cho formation.
Choza's eyes scanned the room before he took his seat, his presence adding weight to the assembly. His appearance alone reminded the room of the Akimichi's towering strength and fierce loyalty, a fact that no one dared challenge.
Following closely behind was Inoichi Yamanaka, the head of the Yamanaka clan. He moved with quiet confidence, his demeanor calm but sharp. The Yamanaka were famous for their mind-based techniques—telepathy, interrogation, and even the ability to control minds from afar. Inoichi's subtlety was a counterbalance to the Akimichi's brute strength, but it was no less intimidating. He greeted the Hokage with a respectful nod before quietly taking his place.
The door slid open once more, revealing Shikaku Nara, the ever-calm strategist of the Nara clan. His perpetually tired expression belied the brilliance of his mind. Shikaku's reputation for tactical genius was well-earned, and Hiruzen had often relied on his counsel during the most trying times. He moved lazily to his seat, though Hiruzen knew better—every move Shikaku made, no matter how languid, was deliberate.
With the heads of Ino-Shika-Cho now seated, the presence of their long-standing alliance was felt heavily within the room, a reminder of the balance of power that had shaped the village for decades.
The next arrival was Tsume Inuzuka, the wild head of the Inuzuka clan. Her spiky brown hair and sharp, wolfish features reflected the animalistic nature of her clan.
She walked with a predatory grace, the sharpened nails on her hands giving her the appearance of a predator ready to pounce. The Inuzuka were known for their close bonds with their Ninken—ferocious dogs who fought alongside them as equals, not pets.
Tsume's demeanor carried a constant sense of danger, though today, there was a noticeable grief beneath her fierce exterior. The loss of her husband in the Kyūbi attack had cast a shadow over her spirit, a weight that she bore silently but was palpable to those who knew her.
Next, the door opened with a soft creak, and Fugaku Uchiha entered. His arrogance was almost tangible, his sharp black eyes sweeping the room with a sense of entitlement.
The Uchiha were famous for their Sharingan, the feared eye technique that allowed them to copy jutsus and anticipate movements. Fugaku's presence reminded the room of the Uchiha's proud history and their role as the village's police force. His posture was rigid, his expression unyielding, a reflection of his belief in the Uchiha's superiority.
The Uchiha were rivaled only by one clan in both power and influence—the Hyuga. Hiashi Hyuga entered next, his pale opalescent eyes sweeping across the room with quiet judgment.
The Hyuga, with their Byakugan, could see the chakra points of any opponent, making them a terrifying force on the battlefield. Hiashi's movements were precise, his demeanor a reflection of the Hyuga's strict adherence to tradition and discipline.
With his arrival, the Shinobi Council was complete, and the weight of the gathered power settled over the room like a heavy shroud. Each clan head represented not only their own strength but also the complex web of alliances and rivalries that shaped Konoha's political landscape.
As Hiruzen sat at the head of the room, Naruto cradled in his arms, he once again glanced at the Advisor's table—Danzo's seat remained conspicuously empty. His absence, though not unexpected, gnawed at Hiruzen like a thorn buried deep in the flesh. Danzo's silence was always unnerving, but today it felt especially significant. *Where are you, Danzo?* The question lingered in his mind, unanswered.
Naruto stirred slightly in his arms, reminding Hiruzen of what was at stake. This child represented the future of the village, and that future would not be dictated by the likes of Danzo. The room was now full, but the real battle for Konoha's future was only just beginning.