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Chapter 58 - Chapter 58: Cool and Trying (BONUS)

Bonus for 700 PS.

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Konoha, deep night.

Hokage Building.

Hiruzen felt his brain throb like it had been hit by a Raiton paralysis technique.

Headache.

"Damn." He gulped a mouthful of tea so strong it was nearly black. It was bitter enough to make him bare his teeth, yet the fire in his chest only burned hotter.

His rough palm slammed down on the heavy desk. The redwood surface groaned as if pushed past its limits.

"Ryo, you brat!"

Hiruzen ground his teeth, each word scraping out like ice shards from his throat.

He couldn't help seeing that red-haired boy standing amid a hellscape of severed limbs and blood, Ryo, holding Uzumaki Kushina in his arms, eyes cold as permafrost.

How had that kid done it?

Some bizarre spiritual shockwave? Some secret technique he invented?

From the Memorial Stone to the far dorms of the Academy, two-thirds of Konoha's territory, tens of thousands of people, became a wheat field scythed down in an instant.

Genin, chūnin, even some jōnin who weren't alert enough, collapsed without a sound, out cold.

The village barrier nearly buckled. Several Sealing Corps jōnin drained their chakra to the dregs and fainted, foaming at the mouth.

As for civilians?

It was as if an invisible mallet had cracked every skull. People were sprawled all over the streets.

More horrifying than a wide-area genjutsu. Creepier than a volley of Bijūdama.

Great. His apprentice shows off to impress a girl, and now the master has to clean it up.

Tsunade. What a lovely student you've raised.

…Forget it. Best not to nitpick with that pair. Tsunade isn't exactly a docile kitten either.

"Hokage-sama." An ANBU in a tanuki mask appeared before the desk, dropped to one knee, voice hoarse from overexertion. "Preliminary tally is done. Casualties…"

Hiruzen's heart clenched in a cold fist. He almost forgot to breathe.

"Zero," the ANBU said quickly.

Hiruzen sagged into his chair as the suffocating pressure loosened.

Thank the gods.

At least that terrifying shock only hit hard, it didn't kill.

Otherwise, he could hang himself and spare the apologies.

"…There are many injuries, most from falls. Some suffered backlash from overusing chakra. The worst is Akimichi Chōza from a patrol team, fell from a tree and broke an arm. And a few others…" The ANBU's tone turned delicate.

"Mm… they lost their footing in public latrines. Deeply unconscious for now, but no immediate danger to life. However, uh… the scene requires a lot of clean water."

Hiruzen's mouth twitched hard.

Into the cesspit, huh?

A truly immersive Konoha cultural experience.

The embarrassment was unprecedented.

Maybe when they wake up, he should ship them straight to the Suna front to make contributions.

"Additionally…" The ANBU paused, voice dropping lower. "Two bathhouses in the shopping district… multiple patrons, because the shock hit during, ah, vigorous activity, according to witnesses, now exhibit varying degrees of, uh, functional impairment…"

Hiruzen: "…"

Violating the Three Shinobi Taboos, and right into the crosshairs, too.

Not like they'll have the face to come complain to him.

Good.

"And one more thing." The ANBU sounded like he'd steeled himself. "Tracing the residual spiritual imprint, the epicenter appears to be at the village outskirts. Correlating with the report of an unidentified flare launched toward the Land of Lightning just moments before the event, and with the battle traces and three destroyed Kumo operatives found at the edge of the Forest of Death, the evidence points to the same conclusion,"

"Kamiyama Ryo," Hiruzen finished for him, voice rasping like sandpaper on stone.

The building's soundproofing barrier seemed to tremble.

Hiruzen could already picture the state of the streets: the cesspit victims wailing, bathhouse entrances clogged with gray-faced "I fear I'm done for" patrons, others cursing and clutching their skulls, panic spreading like plague. Fear needs an outlet. Anger needs a scapegoat. And where would the finger point?

At the Hokage Building. At his head.

He tightened his grip on the pipe.

Calming the masses? Not easy this time.

Throw Ryo to the wolves?

Never mind that the boy just saved the future Nine-Tails Jinchūriki from Kumo ANBU and awakened an almost village-level annihilation power.

Hiruzen let out a cold laugh in his heart.

If they tried to make Ryo the culprit, Mito would go dark instantly and dismantle the entire council.

Losing Ryo would be sawing off their own foundation.

Especially given Ryo's tangled bond with the future Jinchūriki, Uzumaki Kushina. To Hiruzen, it was a heaven-sent shackle. A chain to bind this humanoid calamity. Force him to death or drive him to defect? Hiruzen wasn't senile yet.

"The Hokage line's core combat power. Konoha's future… Touch him? Ōnoki will laugh himself awake," Hiruzen muttered.

Besides, who had the stature to take the blame?

Even if Ryo had done a good thing, villagers would see him as a scapegoat, no authority, no acceptance.

If someone is to shoulder a blame this big, they need status and prestige.

Which means they need a perfect black pot. A sacrificial lamb.

And one that stands up to scrutiny, that draws most of the heat.

Hiruzen's clouded eyes gleamed with calculation through the smoke.

He took a long pull of the harsh tobacco.

Kumo?

Those mangled spies were ready-made offerings…

But the big, muscle-brained brutes were far away, across the Hot Springs and Iron.

Blaming them would scratch no itch for the public.

The daimyō of the Land of Fire would die laughing.

It would only make the Hokage look like a coward shirking responsibility.

Iwa?

They had weight, but the Third Tsuchikage could turtle better than a turtle.

Why provoke the Stone while the Sand war wasn't even resolved?

That's not diverting conflict, that's opening two fronts to die on.

Suna.

Best target.

The western front with Suna was a meat grinder.

Blood from Konoha and the Sand could dye the whole Wind Country red.

Reports of deaths arrived daily.

Konoha's hatred for Suna was dry pine waiting for a spark.

Perfect. A ready, weighty scapegoat with genuine blood feud.

"Damn Sunagakure," Hiruzen said, voice cold with decision, knuckles tapping the desk. "They deployed a covert Spiritual Secret Arts strike team, exploited a weak point in our barrier, and launched this large-scale harassment. Aim: paralyze our rear, break supply lines, shake the front's morale. Our warriors' blood isn't even dry, and those scorpions in the desert reach for our wives and children."

He grew more fluent as he spoke, eyes lighting with the fervor of manufacturing facts.

"As for those dead Kumo spies? Hah. Disposable pawns Suna used to mislead us, diversion tactics. Their sinister intent is clear."

He patched the plan on the fly. "Pin all blame on Suna. Push the propaganda hard. Steer the civilians toward hating Suna, the path of least resistance."

"Understood, Hokage-sama," said the ANBU under the tanuki mask, eyes flashing.

Yet the gravity on Hiruzen's face didn't fade.

Civilians were easy, serve them steaming bowls of Will of Fire and remind them of Suna's blood debts, and they'd be chanting for vengeance.

But the shinobi clans, the old foxes at the power table? The senior advisors? Would they buy it?

"The clans see too clearly." Hiruzen exhaled a long plume of smoke. In the haze, he seemed to glimpse the elders' cold, scrutinizing eyes.

"Foxes, all of them. If we want to run this trick before them, we need seasoning. Stir them up from the inside."

His fingers tapped the desk's cold edge, thud, thud, thud.

His gaze fell on a name at the bottom right of a scroll, marked with the Uchiha fan.

Uchiha Mikoto.

A habitual thought rose from the depths of his mind.

Uchiha.

Konoha's perennial dartboard.

The best at taking the pot.

Every clan had wariness and bias toward the Uchiha, engraved in bone.

Let them shoulder a little more.

"Notify Intelligence," Hiruzen said, voice low as a chill wind from underground, brooking no dissent. "Before the council meeting, let some rumors fly. Subtly, mention that, amid the spiritual storm, someone sensed extremely powerful and unstable Yin Release waves. Direction? Roughly pointing to the edge of the Uchiha compound. Details should be vague, but don't miss the keywords: Yin Release, Sharingan traits, verge of losing control… Let the rumor smolder like a grassfire and reach the perfect heat right before the council. Understood?"

The ANBU's body twitched ever so slightly. "Yes."

"Mmh." Wearied yet savoring a flicker of control, Hiruzen closed his eyes. "The Uchiha have gotten good at bearing blame in the cracks these years. Debts pile high, but they don't crush you. For Mikoto to enter Tsunade's unit and become a core disciple of the Hokage line, bearing a little harmless rumor is a contribution to clan and village. Mikoto is Kushina's closest friend? Good. Nail them firmly into our camp. This small grievance, Uchiha Shana, that old fossil, will swallow it."

He flicked his hand, dismissing the ANBU to carry out orders that would whip Konoha's upper echelons into another storm.

The office fell silent once more.

But Hiruzen couldn't relax yet.

A heavier shadow pressed on his chest, Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu. His peers, custodians with long, sticky fingers and lingering influence.

They weren't like the clans who could be bought off with benefits or divided by rumors.

They stared at power like vultures eyeing carrion.

He could almost see Koharu's pinched, joyless face masked in "anguish" and "let's see how you fix this" hypocrisy.

"Damn it. I still have to settle those two," Hiruzen muttered, pushing to his feet.

Danzō was easier; he could carry the blame. And as Hokage, Hiruzen could keep him caged.

If Danzō were still in Konoha, this would be simpler.

He'd almost become the Scapegoat Kage.

His pipe had long since burned out, only cold ash remained.

He rapped it on the desk, frowning.

There was only one person who could silence those two completely.

Who wouldn't care for their carping about political impact and village stability, and who could muzzle the clans as well.

Hiruzen looked out the window into the ink-black night. At the village's edge, it was as if a silent, heavy mountain stood there, warding off the noise.

Uzumaki Mito.

Night cooled like water, sinking deeper.

Mito's residence lay far from the center, quiet, layered courtyards, air rich with the scent of leaves.

But the moment he stepped past the gate, the calm broke. A weight settled on his heart.

Mito wasn't in her bedroom. She waited in a simple tearoom.

On a small brazier, a kettle simmered, bubbles rising in steady, soft gloops, steam curling upward.

She sat on a cushion, posture still straight, but weariness shadowed her brows, a heaviness of burden she could not quite smooth away.

Kushina was likely soothed and sent to bed.

"Sit, Saru." Mito's voice was calm, unreadable. She gestured to the cushion opposite.

Hiruzen obeyed, kneeling. He shed his public mask, revealing the worry, and the plea, of Sarutobi Hiruzen.

No time for small talk. He went straight in. "Mito-sama, the situation… is extremely delicate."

He laid it out cleanly: the impact, the dual pressure from the masses and the upper ranks.

No embellishment, but each cold number and inference weighed a thousand pounds.

"…So, Suna for the civilians," Hiruzen said, locking eyes with Mito's still-bright gaze. "And Uchiha for the shinobi circle, the bait, the buffer. But… Mito-sama, Homura and Koharu, and some clans, they need an unquestionable conclusion."

He put weight on that last word.

Silence for a heartbeat. Only the kettle's near-boiling rattle, like a taut heartstring quivering.

Mito watched the rising steam. After a while, she spoke, soft, distant, cutting through all pretense. "You want this old body to shut their mouths? To spend my remaining days and what name I have left to shield that child, Ryo, and press down every so-called concern?"

Hiruzen's heart leapt to his throat.

His cheeks warmed with shame. To ask a woman who had given her life to Konoha to spend the last of her strength and prestige, blatantly, was hard even to say.

He swallowed, ashamed, but resolute. "Lady Mito, I… have no other choice. Ryo is Kushina's lock, and Konoha's sword. He cannot be broken on this blame."

He drew a deep breath, spine straightening, eyes bright. "You have guarded Konoha for decades, held onto the First Hokage's dream. I beg you, guard it once more. Not for me, Sarutobi Hiruzen, but so Kushina has the pillar she accepts, and so the village's foundation does not crack. I will bear all effects and costs. Let the infamy fall on me alone."

He spoke the last line like a hammer blow.

The tearoom stilled.

Mito finally turned her head. Eyes that had seen too much rose and fell on Hiruzen's anxious yet unwavering face.

No blame, no anger. Only a quiet compassion, and understanding.

"Heh… So the Will of Fire really has become your heirloom," Mito murmured, shaking her head, the faintest, most complicated smile tugging her lips, half sigh, half release.

She didn't answer his request directly. Instead, she dropped another stone into the still water, her voice quiet, but shaking the air.

"Recall Tsunade."

(To be continued.)

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◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.

◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)

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