Terumi Iroha and Mizunotsuki Shigure exchanged a glance. Hozuki Suichu finally stopped tracing circles along the rim of his teacup and looked up.
"How much longer can Kutsuki Baidiao remain Mizukage?"
Suikazan Fuguki's pupils contracted slightly.
If those words had been spoken inside the Mizukage's office, both the speaker and the listener would have died.
Even on the streets of Kirigakure, overhearing them by the Anbu would have meant a charge of treason.
Yet Hozuki Suichu had asked it just like that, before the heads of four bloodline clans and three members of the Ninja Swordsmen, in that lazy, offhand tone.
"I could take that as a declaration of rebellion," Suikazan Fuguki said.
"You could also take it as a reasonable question."
Hozuki Suichu spoke.
"Kutsuki Baidiao is fifty-three this year and has been Mizukage for eighteen years. Over those eighteen years, Kirigakure's bloodline clans have dwindled from eleven to seven."
"The Seven Ninja Swordsmen have gone from seven to three. The death rate of Kirigakure's Anbu while carrying out missions is twice the average death rate of the Anbu from the other four great shinobi villages, because Kutsuki Baidiao likes to treat Anbu as expendable goods."
He recited those figures one after another, merely laying out the facts.
But that calmness itself carried more force than any anger.
"You're expendable too."
Hozuki Suichu looked at Suikazan Fuguki.
Suikazan Fuguki remained silent for a long time.
The tea before him had gone cold. He picked it up, drained it in one swallow, then set the empty cup back on the table. Its base struck the tabletop with a dull thud.
"What do you want us to do?"
At last, he asked the question.
The corner of Mizunotsuki Shigure's mouth lifted slightly before quickly returning to calm.
Rather than answer directly,