Uzumaki Mito's eyes remained fixed on Sarutobi Hiruzen for a long moment. Under that relentless scrutiny, Hiruzen felt his scalp prickle.
Mito swept her gaze across the group and issued her orders without raising her voice.
"You've been fleeing for your lives. You're exhausted, and you're injured. The Senju have dedicated medical-nin. I'll have them treat your wounds shortly. For now, go rest."
She paused—just long enough for the next words to land like a blade.
"And for the next few days, you will remain on Senju grounds. You are not to go anywhere."
"Tobirama's death is not to be spoken of. Not a word. No matter who asks you—do not say it. Understood?"
Hiruzen and the others exchanged looks, unable to grasp her intent.
Conceal the Hokage's death… and keep them confined under watch?
A bitter taste filled Hiruzen's mouth.
His status as Tobirama's chosen successor suddenly felt like a white-hot brand pressed against his skin. If he obediently stayed within the Senju compound… what if he simply disappeared?
Mito wasn't merely the First Hokage's widow.
She was an Uzumaki elder from the Warring States era—a high-tier combatant who had carved her way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, a crimson rose that had survived where countless others had withered.
Anyone who treated her like a decorative vase was a fool.
At this moment, Hiruzen could feel it clearly: his life was in Mito's hands.
For all he knew, a dozen Senju elites were already hidden beyond the door, waiting for a single command to strike.
"Lady Mito, we—"
Shimura Danzo shifted uneasily, about to speak. He wasn't stupid. If they stayed here and Mito decided to "handle" them, they wouldn't even have the chance to run.
"Danzo," Hiruzen cut in smoothly, giving him a pointed look. "Lady Mito has made her arrangements. We'll remain here and recover."
Hiruzen had little direct contact with Mito. He'd only ever seen her standing beside Tobirama—but he had seen something that mattered.
The way his teacher looked at her.
Respect.
He didn't need to trust Mito.
But he trusted Senju Tobirama.
If Tobirama had chosen him, then Hiruzen was willing to stake his life on the belief that the woman Tobirama respected would not betray his final will and strike him down from the shadows.
Mito's gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat, cool and assessing.
At least this monkey knows how to behave.
"Then go," she said flatly. "Once you're outside, someone will take you to your quarters."
Hiruzen and the others filed out.
—
The moment they were gone, the guard at the door stepped inside.
Senju Momoki.
His face was tight, unease etched into every line.
The Hokage's guard unit had returned—ragged, demoralized, uniforms torn as though they'd crawled back from a nightmare.
But where was their leader?
Where was Senju Tobirama?
Don't tell me…
"Lady Mito…" Momoki's voice trembled despite himself. "Clan Head Tobirama…?"
Mito didn't answer the unspoken question.
Instead, her eyes sharpened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"Go," she ordered. "Set Konoha's barrier seals to wartime status. Take my written authorization and have ANBU lock the village down."
"Mobilize every remaining Senju shinobi. Monitor the clans currently in Konoha. If anyone makes a suspicious move, report to me immediately—especially the Uchiha."
"And send word to Tōma. He is to return from the front at once."
The string of commands slammed into Momoki like a hammer blow, his thoughts stalling for a heartbeat.
Was someone already at Konoha's gates?
Or… were the Uchiha about to rebel?
She was even recalling the Senju heir from the front.
"Lady Mito… what happened? Don't tell me the Clan Head—"
"Move," Mito cut in, her voice turning to ice. "Now."
Momoki jolted as if struck.
Today, he'd spoken far too much.
"Yes, Lady Mito!"
He hurried out to execute her orders, leaving Mito alone in the room.
Only then did she sink back into her chair.
In the span of a single breath, her posture seemed to collapse—composure draining away like water from a cracked vessel. The unshakable steadiness she'd worn moments ago vanished, replaced by exhaustion, grief, and something far more dangerous than either.
—
A voice rose from deep within her, brimming with vicious delight.
"Hahaha… Mito. Hashirama's foolish little brother is dead too. Looks like the village he built isn't far from collapse!"
Within Mito's body, beyond flesh and blood, lay the sealed space.
A colossal fox sat there, its nine tails bound by thick chains that pinned it in place.
The Nine-Tails threw back its head and laughed, the chains rattling with sharp metallic clinks that stabbed at Mito's thoughts.
"This is karma! You've imprisoned me for all these years—so what? Did the shinobi world find peace?"
Outside, everything fell within the Nine-Tails' perception—including the storm of emotion churning inside Mito.
Sorrow. Despair. Pain.
The fox savored it all, offering not a shred of sympathy—only mockery.
"Hmph. Demon fox."
Mito's voice was cold, but her heart trembled beneath it.
"Konoha will not fall. Hashirama's efforts will not be wasted. As long as I live, I will protect this village."
Her will surged.
Chains manifested from nothingness—thick, gleaming links that snapped forward and wrapped around the Nine-Tails' muzzle, binding its massive body until it twisted helplessly in place.
"Mmmph—!"
"MITO, I—!"
The curse never finished.
Mito tightened the seal's restraint until the fox's fury became nothing more than muffled noise.
Only after the Nine-Tails was suppressed did her breathing slowly steady.
Her mind cleared.
Her composure returned—hard, sharp, functional.
She murmured to herself, voice low and unyielding.
"With me here… Konoha will not be overturned."
—
Konoha Military Police Force.
Uchiha Hokuto sat inside the private office reserved for a captain.
The Police Force had three captains, each assigned their own office. The other two were currently rotated to the front lines, leaving Hokuto alone to hold the fort—stationed at the heart of the Uchiha compound, overseeing the clan's internal stability within the village.
Sixteen years of relentless advancement had made Hokuto a core figure in the Uchiha hierarchy.
Aside from the clan head, Uchiha Tomita, Hokuto was effectively the second-in-command of the Uchiha in Konoha.
He possessed the three-tomoe Sharingan. His Lightning Release was honed to a frightening degree. He had independently developed a technique modeled after Chidori. He was proficient in the clan's Fire Release jutsu, and his swordsmanship was formidable as well—having once fought the Hatake clan's prodigy, Hatake Sakumo, to a draw.
Through ruthless discipline and the steady accumulation of strength over years, Hokuto had earned immense prestige within the clan.
Tap.
The door swung open as Manji pushed it wide.
The black cat leapt lightly inside and landed squarely in Hokuto's lap.
"Hokuto," Manji said without preamble, "Hiruzen and the others are back. Not long ago they entered the Senju compound—and once they went in, none of them came back out."
"And the Senju have mobilized. Their shinobi are spreading throughout Konoha in every direction. Some have already reached the outskirts of the Uchiha district."
"ANBU are moving as well—stationing themselves all over the village."
"Some of them are strong. The ninja cats won't get too close—we don't want to tip them off. A few have pulled back. Others are watching from a distance."
"Give it a little longer, and there'll probably be ANBU or Senju personnel near the Police Force headquarters too."
Hokuto's hand continued stroking Manji's fur with easy familiarity.
He didn't look worried.
If anything… his eyes were calm, almost amused.
"Good."
He lifted his gaze toward the door, his voice carrying quiet authority.
"Someone. Call a meeting."
If Uzumaki Mito was moving, then Uchiha Hokuto had no intention of sitting still.
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