Hiruzen's eyes flew wide. For a moment he thought he'd misheard. "R–recall Tsunade? Now? But the front line..."
Mito cut him off. Her voice was steady, but carried the finality of dust settling. "I can't hold on much longer. Even the Nine-Tails' chakra that's only acting on animal instinct is almost beyond my control."
She slowly lifted her thin, withered hands, hands that had once maintained the strongest Tailed Beast seal. They trembled. "While there's still a little strength left in these old bones, while I can still suppress that beast, it's time for Kushina."
Hiruzen felt struck by lightning.
Lady Mito had decided to transfer the Nine-Tails now.
Terror and sorrow drowned out every calculation in an instant.
It meant the First Hokage's wife, the true anchor of Konoha, was about to burn the last wick of her life.
"Mito-sama! Isn't this... too hasty? You—"
Mito raised a hand to still him.
Deep in those aged eyes flashed a strange light, not grief, but a settled resolve.
She remembered the blood-streaked boy beneath the moon declaring, "My little tomato," and Kushina burying her face in his chest to cry without restraint.
"Don't worry, Saru." Mito's voice pressed down his panic, the firmness in it even overshadowing her fatigue. "Kushina has found the light she wants. That is a lock stronger than any seal. Her heart has a place to rest. This old woman can hand the burden to the young."
Her gaze focused on Hiruzen's face again, calm as if entrusting a thousand-pound weight. "As for today's incident... I know what to do. Go and do what you must. This old woman will preside over the high council meeting."
It was as if a mountain that had been crushing Hiruzen's chest vanished.
Tremendous relief surged up with a sharp, inexplicable ache.
He bowed low until his forehead struck the cold floor, voice choking with emotion as he forced out two words. "...Thank you."
Uzumaki Mito waved weakly, saying no more.
The gesture clearly dismissed him.
She needed a final stretch of quiet to gather the last threads of strength, for the storm to come, and for the ultimate ritual.
Hiruzen withdrew from the tearoom with respectful haste, suppressing his breath.
When he closed the door that separated the tearoom's warmth from the night's chill, then lifted his head to the Konoha sky still turbulent with the aftertaste of chaos, a granite-hard resolve gathered once more in the eyes of the "ninja hero."
Mito, by her sacrifice and resolve, had cleared the board for him.
The high council meeting?
Let them come. Let's see who dares stand in the Hokage's way.
The last darkness before dawn ripped open. A pale first light slid through the thick bulletproof glass of the great conference room, sketching everything in cold clarity.
The sun had not fully risen.
Konoha's towering walls cast vast shadows over a land just waking from a silent calamity.
In the decision chamber deep within the Hokage Building, the air was thicker than Hiruzen's pipe smoke, laced with the tang of blood and powder and a subtler reek of power plays.
Uzumaki Mito arrived very early.
In a plain, dark-violet kimono, she sat quietly at the head.
Her posture was still upright and elegant, but her lids were lowered, hands folded inside wide sleeves, a fatigue tempered by years of wind and frost settling about her.
She was the village's anchor, and also a lone lamp about to gutter out.
Hiruzen sat at her left, face a stony calm, fingertips tapping the hardwood in a rhythm edged with impatience.
For the first time, the white Hokage cloak felt like a mud-smeared prison uniform.
The door opened without a sound.
Mitokado Homura entered first, slicked-back hair, gold-rim glasses, advisor uniform with no crease out of place, his face arranged in the "Konoha is doomed" mask of heavy concern.
Utatane Koharu followed, features drawn and sharp as a bow at full draw. Her cloudy triangular eyes locked on Hiruzen, and her lips pinched as if she'd just bitten a raw bitter melon.
They sat, bringing not just bodies, but a low-pressure front of scrutiny and accusation.
Silence.
Even breathing felt weighted, pressing on the chest.
The meeting hadn't started, but the smoke of war already curled on the table.
Homura struck first. His palm slammed the table, tea cups jolting as he shattered the staged stillness.
"Hiruzen!" he drawled, scolding and "heartbroken." "Look outside! Konoha, our Konoha! What does it look like now? Half the village, tens of thousands, scythed down like wheat! Shinobi and civilians alike! This is your peace under your governance? Can't even guard our home! A disgrace! An utter disgrace!" Spittle almost reached Hiruzen's face.
Koharu's voice stabbed in, frosted needles dipped in poison, each word aimed at Mito. "That power last night, Mito-sama, our strongest barrier in Konoha, did the enemy slip in right under your nose? Is this... negligence?"
She didn't name anyone, but the arrow pointed straight at Kushina, the unappointed yet inevitable core of the storm, the future Nine-Tails Jinchūriki.
Homura landed the follow-up, the lenses of his glasses flashing with political venom. "Yes! A thorough investigation! This was clearly a vicious attack aimed at the Uzumaki, at our future Jinchūriki! Those Kumo vermin got what they deserved, but for them to penetrate so deep and aim for the Nine-Tails, there must be a bigger hand behind them! Mito-sama, do you know any hidden details? Anything could be critical to the village's survival!"
He framed the incident as an attack on the Jinchūriki, ducking managerial blame and pinning the pot on Uzumaki blood and the Hokage's failure to protect.
Hiruzen's eye twitched hard, jaw clenching.
These two old classmates, perfect harmony. One slaps on "inept governance," the other shoves the blame onto the Jinchūriki and Mito.
They'd nail him and Mito to the pillar of shame if they could.
He was about to retort,
A faint, bone-weary voice sounded, and stole all the air in the room.
Uzumaki Mito.
She didn't even raise her head. Only the hands on her knees trembled, barely.
Just that.
Hum.
The two cups of steaming tea before Homura and Koharu cracked in a spiderweb of fine lines with no warning. In the next instant, as if squeezed by an invisible giant hand, pop, pop, they shattered. Yet the tea didn't splash; it lifted as two thin streams that evaporated in silence.
The tabletop held not a single drop of water, only two small piles of crazed white porcelain shards.
Homura and Koharu froze like puppets with their strings cut. Their righteous bluster stuck in their throats; even the wrinkles on their faces seemed to solidify.
Cold sweat drenched their undershirts.
What they felt was the lingering pressure of the abyssal chakra and sealing mastery within this frail old body, and a will that would gladly burn to ash, taking enemies with it, to guard what mattered.
Too many years of smooth sailing had made them float, forgetting who ruled Konoha. Forgetting that before them sat the First Hokage's wife, the village's ultimate power, someone their own teacher, the Second, bowed to with respect.
By prestige, by standing, by strength,
They were nothing before her.
In a single breath, the chamber's balance snapped back.
Even Hiruzen's tapping fingers stilled.
His eyes on Mito were complicated, respect, guilt, and a guilty thrill at seeing those two cowed.
Mito's lids remained lowered, as if that silent show of power had only brushed away dust.
She finally spoke, voice firm, unarguable. "Last night... there was indeed an enemy attack. Kumo remnants forced a passage through a gap in the barrier at any cost. Their target was the child of my Uzumaki clan."
Each word nailed the event down as enemy plot and aimed at the Jinchūriki, leaving no room for quibbles.
She lifted her lids a fraction. Eyes that had seen rise and fall, that could embrace all things, were now stone-hard as they swept over Homura and Koharu's blanched faces. "You wish to investigate Kushina?"
The calm question chilled more than a scream.
Homura jerked as if shocked. His mask of grave concern for the village shattered, leaving raw panic. "Never! Mito-sama, you misunderstand! We... we're only worried about defense gaps, afraid the enemy has a follow-up!"
He redirected at once.
Hiruzen seized the opening and surged to his feet.
He didn't spare the two elders a glance, crushed by a single look from Mito, but turned to stare down the clan representatives gathered for the council.
"Gaps? Defense?"
His roar cracked like thunder in the chamber, making hearts quiver.
"Open your eyes! Enemies don't fall from the sky!" He slashed a hand toward the northwest, toward the Forest of Death, and, far beyond, the Land of Wind.
"The front! The Rain Country front! Our warriors bleed every day! Die every day! For whom do they stand? For whom do they bleed? For this peaceful rear of ours!"
Spittle flew with the Third's blazing fury. "And last night, while our soldiers on the front held Suna's main force with flesh and blood, buying us time,"
His voice rose to a near howl, every syllable an accusation. "What did those sewer vermin hiding in the desert do, Sunagakure?!"
Hiruzen's fist slammed the table. Even Mito's teacup jumped.
"They sent their most insidious Spiritual Secret Arts unit! While our guard was thin, they bypassed the main battle line, followed the scent of death, followed the blood in Rain, and slipped into our belly without a sound!"
He painted the picture like a witness, killing intent thick in his tone. "Their goal: break our morale! Paralyze our logistics! Throw our rear into chaos so we can't support the front! Make our parents, our wives and children live in fear!"
"And those Kumo insects?" He sneered, eyes as if looking at trash. "Just Suna's disposable pawns! A decoy to mislead us! Once their kidnapping of Kushina was exposed, Suna used them as a cat's paw, divert the blame east, dump the chamber pot on Kumo, and keep us too busy to see the real culprit! Heinous!"
He yanked a scroll from under the table, stained with dirt and grime, and slammed it down.
"This is the site survey from last night's battle. Look! Look at the residual chakra traces! The Sealing Corps' elite verified with their lives! In the core band, that snake-cold, clinging feel, if that isn't Suna's secret Sand-Binding spiritual technique, what is?! That unique frequency, only those soul-twisting scum can produce it!"
Breaths hitched around the room as clan representatives fixed on the blood-smeared evidence.
They couldn't see the details from here, but the scroll's aura of death, and Hiruzen's iron accusations, cast a long shadow over their hearts.
Especially at "verified with their lives," a weight that silenced doubts.
"No question, the mastermind behind this chaos, this vile raid, is Sunagakure!" Hiruzen's voice was a quenched steel blade, chopping the charge into place.
"They think a handful of pawns can shake Konoha? Dream on!"
His chest heaved. His gaze raked the room like burning coals, finally settling on the clan reps, lingering, especially, on those who weren't fond of the Uchiha.
"The front's blood hasn't dried! Our grief isn't over! Suna's poison claws have reached for our home, our parents, our wives, our children!"
"Comrades of Konoha! This calamity isn't a natural disaster! It's man-made! It's another blood-debt Suna owes us!"
"How shall we collect that debt?!"
His roar fell like a torch into dry tinder, igniting anger long held down by fear.
"Damn Suna! Three fine sons from my Hyūga branch family died in Rain to their poison sand!" a Hyūga elder raged first, Byakugan flaring.
"Blood for blood!" a Nara representative, normally the picture of cool logic, rose with red eyes. His younger brother had been on the death list just the day before.
"Kill them!"
"Reinforce the front! Sharpen the blades! Let them taste Konoha's fury!"
"Kill! Slaughter those desert hogs!"
The tide of rage exploded.
Hiruzen had precisely redirected civilian panic, clan grief, and war fear into iron hatred of Sunagakure.
Homura and Koharu parted their lips to spout the usual "political implications," "international optics," "proceed cautiously" drivel,
But the cold sting of Mito's Uzumaki chakra mark pricked like invisible needles, making their hair stand on end. Not a word came out.
Hiruzen saw it, and knew the timing was ripe.
He drew a deep breath, donned a mask of solemn resolve, and sank his voice, heavier, weightier. "Blood-debts must be paid in blood. But..."
At the single "but," the room quieted. All eyes turned to the Third.
Hiruzen's gaze swept like a searchlight, pausing on certain faces, especially among the clans usually unfriendly to the Uchiha.
"Fellow Konoha shinobi," he said somberly, "amid the chaos, while the Sealing Corps conducted emergency spiritual scans, we detected..." He paused deliberately, thickening the air.
"A powerful, chaotic, highly corrosive Yin Release wave. Not a naturally occurring disturbance, and unlike Suna or Kumo techniques."
Among the Uchiha, old Uchiha Shana, rigid face, shadowed eyes, felt a tiny twitch in his brow. Deep in his aged Sharingan, a flicker of wariness.
"The source... in the western sector of the village." Hiruzen didn't say "edge of the Uchiha compound," but his glance brushed Shana's seat, and his finger drummed, ever so casually, on that general area of the map.
It was enough.
(To be continued.)