Konoha Police Force Building, second-floor conference room.
The soundproofing barrier hadn't been activated yet, and the clamor from the lobby below had already pushed through the floor like the racket of a busy morning market.
Uchiha Fugaku sat at the head of the long table, fingers interlaced beneath his chin. The poker face that had struck fear into enemies on the battlefield was now wearing an expression of utter despair.
The desk in front of him looked less like a workspace and more like a dump: complaints in every color, crumpled mission reports, and even half a red bean bun with a bite taken out of it.
"Care to explain?"
Fugaku's voice was low. He pointed at the half-eaten red bean bun, the corner of his eye twitching wildly. "Why is evidence on my desk?"
Sitting to his left, Namikaze Minato awkwardly scratched his blond hair. His smile was still sunny, but there was no hiding his guilt.
"Well... one of the Akimichi Clan seniors said that if he didn't eat it right away, the red bean bun would spoil and couldn't be used as evidence of a 'street vendor obstructing the road.' He ate half, then remembered it was for the captain to see, so..."
"So he left the rest for me?!"
Fugaku slammed a hand on the table, making the half-eaten bun hop. "I'm the Head of the Police Force, not someone who eats leftovers!"
"And this!" Fugaku snatched up another report, almost activating his Sharingan in anger.
"Who wrote this? 'The suspect was running too slowly, so our pursuit team fell asleep in the shade. By the time they woke up, the suspect had disappeared'?!"
"Shikaku signed it..." Minato's voice grew quieter and quieter. "He said it was 'tactical standby.'"
"Tactical my ass!"
Fugaku crumpled the report