The Final Struggle

His hand had not even touched his weapon.

Yet no one in the main hall dared take a single step past him.

That was what it meant to be feared.

He did not need to throw a punch.

He only needed them to know what would happen if he did.

Time passed, little by little.

The incense stick had burned more than halfway down.

Shikaku glanced at the incense, then at the people still arguing inside the hall.

"Are you finished?"

His voice was quiet, but it hit everyone like a bucket of cold water.

The clamor stopped dead.

Sarutobi Ryota glared at Shikaku, his chest rising and falling.

He suddenly realized that Shikaku had never truly joined the argument.

They had shouted themselves hoarse, tearing into one another.

Shikaku had simply sipped his tea and watched the incense burn down.

As though all their struggles were nothing more than a farce staged for his amusement.

The humiliation stung worse than a blow.

Sarutobi Ryota clenched his fists.

"Don't get smug, Shikaku."

"Lord Third Hokage is barely in his grave, and you're already forcing his clan to surrender its power."

"You haven't even found his remains. You buried an empty coffin, and now you have the nerve to come after the men who served him?!"

He took a sudden step forward, his voice loud enough to rattle the rafters.

"The shinobi of Konoha are watching!"

"If you can turn on the Third Hokage's loyal men today, who will risk their lives for Konoha tomorrow?!"

Unease flickered in many eyes around the hall.

Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi had died fighting in a foreign land, and his remains had still not been brought home.

Now the new Hokage was going after his subordinates. What would the village's other shinobi think?

Sarutobi Ryota