Danzo's body went rigid the instant his gaze met Minato's.
That look—cold and razor-sharp—seemed to pierce every disguise, to see through the secrets hidden beneath his sleeves, and the darkest ambitions buried in his heart.
A chill climbed his spine.
This Minato was no longer the same as before his death.
Once, though hailed as a genius and dazzling with light, his heart had remained gentle—a "sun" who followed the Will of Fire.
But the Minato before him still shone—only now, at the core of that light was an absolute cold dredged up from the abyss of death.
He was no longer only the sun.
He was the judge.
Danzo subconsciously tightened the arm hidden in his sleeve—the arm into which he had grafted his greatest secret and ambition.
Minato's gaze stayed on him for a full three seconds.
For Danzo, it stretched like a century.
Only then did Minato withdraw his eyes, as if it had been nothing more than a passing glance.
Holding the sleeping Naruto, he turned toward Hiruzen atop the platform.
The cheers in the plaza had completely died away.
Everyone held their breath, watching the resurrected Fourth. They could all feel it—the air had changed.
This was no simple celebration of a hero's return.
It was a reckoning.
A storm was about to break over Konoha's seat of power.
Hiruzen's face looked terrible. He could feel the gazes from all sides—doubt, scrutiny, even distrust.
All of it, courtesy of the man before him.
He struggled to maintain the composure of the "Professor," and said in a low voice, "Minato… that you're back, I… we are all glad. But how is this possible? You—"
Minato simply lifted a hand—enough to end the reunion.
Cradling Naruto, he stepped in on Hiruzen.
Golden chakra flowed warmly around him, yet formed an unseen wall that crushed every ounce of Hiruzen's momentum.
"Third-sama."
Minato spoke again, voice even—yet it pressed on Hiruzen like a mountain.
"'Thank you' for all that you did for the village after my death."
It sounded polite, but Hiruzen could hear the thick irony.
"But," Minato's words turned suddenly like a blade, "to coldly thrust a newborn—who just lost both parents—before everyone, to shackle him with the weight of 'hero's child,' forcing him from the very first day to live beneath warped stares… Did you really think I wouldn't understand?"
He paused slightly.
"Third-sama, that isn't guardianship."
"It is kidnapping."
Kidnapping—two words that smashed into Hiruzen's chest like twin hammers.
His face went from white to green in an instant.
"You—!" He tried to refute it on reflex, only to find he had nowhere to start.
Because Minato was right.
Every plan, every line, every grand narrative he'd spun ripped open under those two words, exposing the cold, selfish calculus beneath.
At the side, Jiraiya jolted when he heard "kidnapping."
He looked at his teacher, then at his disciple's icy eyes, and the trust he'd held for his teacher began to shake violently.
Yeah…
Minato was right.
Was this truly protecting Naruto?
Or using him—using his identity, using the Nine-Tails inside him—to cement certain people's power?
For the first time, doubt bit into Jiraiya's heart.
The villagers didn't understand high politics, but they understood "kidnapping."
They looked from the baby cradled in the arms of the exalted Third, then at the Fourth—cold-eyed, yet radiating a father's warmth.
A simple contrast set a scale in every heart.
Their gazes toward Hiruzen changed.
Hiruzen felt it—his authority crumbling at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He hugged Naruto tighter by reflex.
The baby was his last, and only, bargaining chip.
As long as Naruto was in his arms, he still had the qualifications to "negotiate" with Minato.
Minato had no intention of negotiating.
He halted before Hiruzen.
He held out both hands.
A gesture as simple as possible—
But its meaning could not have been clearer.
Give me back my son.
Hiruzen stared at Minato's outstretched hands. His lips trembled; his mind raced for a line—any line—that could salvage the situation.
None existed.
Before absolute fatherhood—before a miracle that raised the dead—words were powerless.
His hands trembled.
If he let go, he would lose control of the Nine-Tails jinchūriki completely; everything he'd just done would become a joke.
If he didn't—
Did he dare?
He looked into Minato's eyes.
No plea. No negotiation. Only an order that would brook no refusal.
If he refused, Hiruzen had no doubt that, in the next heartbeat, a Hiraishin kunai would rest against his throat.
Every heart climbed into every throat.
At last—under Minato's steadily freezing gaze—the hand that had once held Konoha's fate slackened.
Minato did not hesitate. With practiced, gentle motion, he took Naruto from Hiruzen's arms.
He adjusted his hold, letting the infant settle comfortably in the crook of his elbow.
Perhaps sensing the familiar, warm chakra of his father, the frown puckering Naruto's brow from the outside clamor smoothed away. His lips even curled upward, a satisfied murmur slipping out.
The sight shattered the last line of defense in Hiruzen's heart.
His so-called "guardianship" had earned only the baby's unease.
The "dead man," with a single simple embrace, granted the child absolute safety.
The higher and the lower—plain as day.
"Fatherly love like a mountain"—in that moment, fully expressed.
Hiruzen staggered back a step, his face ashen, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.
He had lost.
Utterly.
Holding Naruto, Minato rubbed his cheek lightly against his son's.
Only then did he lift his head to the shattered Hiruzen.
"Third-sama, you're old."
His voice returned to calm.
"These years, for the village—you've worked hard."
"It's time you rested."
Step down.
A naked demand for abdication.
Hiruzen's body shook violently.
Jiraiya, Koharu, Homura—the entire upper echelon—blanched in unison.
None had expected Minato to return with such force.
First, reclaim his son.
Second, demand the Third's abdication.
Minato did not look their way.
He turned with Naruto in his arms to face the thousands in the plaza.
His eyes sharpened again, like a sword bared.
He spoke, his voice carrying to every corner.
"Next,"
"we will talk about Konoha's losses."
His gaze brushed—lightly yet unmistakably—past Danzo in the crowd, and Koharu and Homura on the platform.
"And…"
"certain people's responsibility."
(End of Chapter)
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