A Farce at the Hokage Building, Fugaku's Resolve Begins to Crumble

Fugaku's back stiffened for a moment.

He did not turn around. A proper Uchiha would not lose his composure before his superior because of a woman's voice.

"Lady Tsunade." Fugaku's voice was as steady as if he had rehearsed it ten times. "Something went wrong with the mission. I was reporting to Lord Hokage—"

Tsunade came in.

No, she had not walked in. She took one step and arrived right in front of Fugaku. Three cracks split across the wooden floor beneath her feet.

"I asked you—" Tsunade bent down, less than twenty centimeters away from Fugaku. "Who died?"

Fugaku finally turned his head.

He saw Tsunade's eyes.

There were no tears, no grief. There was killing intent. Pure killing intent, untainted by any political considerations. It felt exactly like facing an S-rank rogue ninja on the battlefield.

"Nawaki Senju and Mikoto Uchiha encountered—"

Tsunade's knee slammed into his chest.

There was no stance, no buildup. Five Principles Force surged directly into that knee. Fugaku was launched into the air and sent flying backward, his back smashing into the office's side wall. The plaster cracked and flaked away, fragments clattering onto his shoulders.

Two dull cracks came from his chest. Ribs. At least two.

"Tsunade!" The Third stood from his chair, his pipe falling onto the desk and rolling halfway around.

"Shut up." Tsunade did not even look back.

Danzō stood in the shadows and tapped his cane against the floor. Two Anbu dropped from hidden compartments in the ceiling, positioning themselves between Tsunade and Fugaku.

Tsunade did not even glance at them.

"Hiruzen Sarutobi." She called the Third by his full name. The air in the office seemed to drop several degrees. "Last time, he nearly got blown to pieces on the front lines. This time, a mission came back with news of his death. My little brother dies twice in a year. You're quite the capable Hokage."

The Third drew a deep breath, his tone heavy with grief. "Tsunade, the matter has not yet been investigated—"

"Investigated? You've been investigating for decades. The Senju Clan went from hundreds of people to a single survivor. What have you found?"

Danzō's lone eye shifted. He said nothing. Letting the Third take the brunt of it first was the smartest choice.

Fugaku slid down from the wall, bracing himself on one knee with his right hand pressed over his chest. Blood stained the corner of his mouth. He frowned, but did not cry out in pain.

"Lady Tsunade, I understand how you feel." Fugaku coughed, his voice hoarse but orderly. "But I was the squad leader. Bringing back intelligence was my duty. In that situation, the only choice was—"

"The only choice was for you to come back alive?"

Fugaku lowered his gaze slightly. "If the entire squad had been wiped out and we could not even bring the enemy's intelligence back to Konoha, that would have been the real failure."

What a fine excuse for the greater good.

The Third's expression eased slightly. The argument held up. A squad leader preserving vital intelligence and abandoning teammates who could not be rescued was an extended interpretation of Article Four of the Shinobi Code. Cold-blooded, perhaps, but within the rules.

"Fugaku has a point." Danzō finally spoke, his grave tone perfectly measured. "Nawaki's sacrifice is regrettable, but choices on the battlefield cannot be judged by emotion—"

"Oh?"

A voice came from the doorway.

It was not Tsunade's voice.

It was ten years younger than Tsunade's, light and airy, as though it were making an irrelevant little joke. Yet in this office, it was louder than an explosive tag.

Everyone looked toward the door at once.

Nawaki leaned against the doorframe.

His imperial robe was intact, his hair clean, with barely any dust on his face.

Mikoto Uchiha stood behind him. Their hands were clasped together.

The office fell utterly silent for three full seconds.

Tsunade's fist loosened. She stared at Nawaki, her chest rising and falling sharply twice. Her mouth opened, then closed.

"Big Sis." Nawaki grinned at her. "Stop smashing things. This building was only repaired last month."

Tsunade had to use tremendous effort to swallow back her next punch. She hurried over to Nawaki and looked him over three times from head to toe.

"You—"

"Not a scratch." Nawaki spread his arms and turned in a circle. "Not even my clothes are torn."

Tsunade's knees weakened for half a second. But she did not show it—at least, she thought she had not.

Nawaki looked past Tsunade at the people in the room.

His gaze swept over the Third, passed over Danzō, and finally settled on Fugaku's face as he sat against the wall.

Nawaki would never forget Fugaku's expression for the rest of his life.

It was not fear. It was not surprise. It was the blankness that the owner of a carefully constructed mansion could not hide in time when it collapsed in an instant.

Pure blankness. Like his mind had crashed.

"Young Uchiha Clan Head, I heard that speech of yours from outside." Nawaki released Mikoto's hand and took two steps forward. "What do you mean, 'in that situation, the only choice was'? Go on, finish it."

Fugaku's Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze shifted from Nawaki to Mikoto's face.

Mikoto was looking at him too.

But that look—Fugaku had known Mikoto for three years, yet he had never seen it in her eyes before.

It was not hatred. It was something colder than hatred.

"Mikoto." Fugaku stood, pressing a hand over his broken ribs, his voice lowered. "You—how could you be with him—"

"Lord Fugaku." Mikoto interrupted him.

She still used the honorific, but her tone had changed. It was no longer the obedient submission of someone beneath him, but the final courtesy one person extended to another.

"On the right flank of the canyon, there were twenty-one Hidden Stone ninja and one jonin. You told me to hold them off alone."

Fugaku's lips moved.

"The moment you said that, you rushed toward the right flank. Toward the eight-man team." Mikoto's voice was soft, yet everyone in the office could hear every word clearly. "Toward safety."

The muscles in Fugaku's face tightened.

"The situation was urgent. The left flank needed to be held back—"

"I almost died." Mikoto said. "When that kunai was pointed at my heart, how far had you run on the right flank?"

Fugaku did not answer.

Mikoto took a step back and stood at Nawaki's side.

"Fugaku Uchiha. From today onward, our engagement is void. I have nothing to do with you, or with anything arranged by the Uchiha Clan elders."

Even the air in the office seemed to freeze.

The Third's fingers pressed against the desk. Danzō's lone eye abruptly widened. The corner of Tsunade's mouth lifted before she forced it back down.

Fugaku's hand fell from his chest. He stared at Mikoto standing beside Nawaki. The Three-Tomoe Sharingan spun halfway in his black pupils—then stopped.

His ocular technique was useless. He had tried it on the street earlier.

His "genius" was useless before this man. His "fiancée" stood beside this man without looking back.

What he had lost was not merely a woman. It was the dignity of the young Uchiha Clan Head, the painstakingly arranged bloodline inheritance plan of the council of elders, and—everything he had been told since birth was rightfully his.

"Nawaki Senju." Fugaku's voice changed. It no longer carried its earlier calmness, but a rasp he could not control. "What exactly do you want—"

"I want a lot of things." Nawaki cut him off and reached into his robes for the folded secret letter.

It was a thin sheet of paper, glaringly white under the lights.

He did not hand it to the Third. Nor did he hand it to Danzō.

He walked to the center of the room and held up the secret letter, its front facing everyone.

"Grandpa Hokage, Lord Danzō, Young Clan Head Fugaku, since everyone is here—" Nawaki wore the same smile as he had three seconds ago, warm and sunny, like a good kid.

But every word he spoke carried a blade.

"I would like to ask. Root personnel using my corpse to make a deal with Hidden Stone—what rank of mission is that? S-rank? Or... are some missions outside every ranking?"

He flicked the secret letter away.

The paper spun across the desk and landed in front of the Third.

The Third's gaze fell upon the page.

"Test subject number has been prepared. Live cell extraction requires the remains of the original bloodline holder—"

His hand stopped.

Danzō's cane struck the floor once.

Nawaki stood in the center of the office, his hands in his pockets, head tilted as he watched the higher-ups' reactions.

Tsunade walked to the desk and picked up the secret letter.

She read it word by word, line by line.

Her hand began to tremble.

Not from sorrow. Not from fear.

"Hiruzen Sarutobi—" Tsunade raised her head.

Seeing the look in his sister's eyes, Nawaki counted silently to one.

The fuse had been lit.