After stepping into the quiet, dimly lit reception room, the atmosphere seemed heavy enough to cut with a kunai.
Uchiha Yato, however, showed no sign of calming down. His eyes shimmered faintly with tears—though it was difficult to tell whether they were real or forced—and he immediately cried out in an exaggerated voice:
"Aburame Ryoma wants to kill me~!"
The tone was drawn-out, almost like a child tattling to a teacher. His sleeve wiped at the corners of his eyes as if to emphasize his supposed vulnerability. Then, with his voice cracking at just the right moment, he added:
"You must make the decision for me! Hokage-sama, clan leaders, anyone—someone must uphold justice for me!"
Across from him, the Aburame clan leader, Ryoma's father, clenched his jaw. Though known for his mild temperament and steady demeanor, even he nearly lost control of his composure at Yato's performance.
This is too much, he thought.
You are a jonin, a full-fledged Konoha jonin from the Uchiha clan, no less. How could you possibly claim that the assassination attempt of a child—not even ten years old—was such a grave threat to you?
If it were really so easy to kill you, then the miracle isn't that you survived this incident, but that you managed to survive this long at all!
Though his thoughts burned with disbelief and irritation, the Aburame clan leader's outward expression remained as calm and aloof as ever. His words came slowly, measured, as though he were weighing each syllable:
"Name the conditions. This child has committed a mistake. We, as a clan, will acknowledge it."
Then, after a pause, he added with firm dignity, "But I must clarify. Since this child was taken away by Elder Danzo, he has never once returned to the clan compound. His actions, from that point onward, cannot be said to represent the Aburame."
The statement was plain, but the meaning behind it was razor-sharp.
In other words: Yes, Uchiha Yato, Ryoma did wrong. We, the Aburame, accept responsibility for that much. But the true mastermind, the one who directed and manipulated him, is none other than Danzo Shimura. If you seek accountability, go to him. As the clan head, the only thing I can do is admit guilt for appearances' sake. Nothing more.
Uchiha Yato's crying stopped instantly, as if someone had pressed a mute button. His posture straightened, and the expression of pitiful grievance slid off his face with uncanny speed.
"You are right," Yato said smoothly, tone now polite and deliberate. "We are also afraid of misunderstandings, which is why we informed you in advance. Transparency is important."
He took a calm sip of tea before continuing, "We have already sent notice to Elder Danzo as well, but he has been far too busy to appear. Therefore, I will explain first. This time, in order to embarrass me, Aburame Ryoma dragged Sarutobi Kakuya and Hyūga Hiroya down with him. I suggest the Aburame clan leader return and handle the matter with appropriate discipline."
The Aburame clan leader listened silently, his pale face as unreadable as a blank scroll. He only inclined his head slightly, a slow nod that conveyed reluctant understanding.
The suffocating tension in the room shifted suddenly. In the next instant, the oppressive scene of accusation and denial seemed to dissolve into something far more ordinary.
Now, the reception room felt warm and almost domestic. To Uchiha Kai, head of the Uchiha clan, the sudden change left him bewildered.
At that moment, Uchiha Yato's voice rang out again, sharp as a thrown kunai:
"What are you standing there for? Why don't you pour a cup of tea for the Aburame clan leader? They came all the way here—it's not easy for them. As clan leader, you should have some tact!"
Uchiha Kai froze, his jaw tightening. Did this brat just order me around… in front of another clan leader?
But with the Aburame leader present, Kai swallowed his pride. With stiff movements, he stood and went to fetch tea.
Soon, he returned, carefully setting steaming cups before their guests. Yet as he placed the final cup on the table, realization struck him. His brows knit, and he turned sharply toward Yato.
"Wait," Kai said, voice low with irritation. "I am the clan leader. And you, a mere member of the clan, are ordering me around as if I were your servant? Shouldn't it be you who shows tact and brings tea for the clan leaders?"
Yato lifted his cup with elegance, blowing gently on the steam before taking a measured sip. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he replied:
"I must admit, Chief, you are remarkably talented in this particular area. Your tea-making skills are exquisite. To think I had such a treasure within the clan—I truly haven't wasted your talents."
Uchiha Kai's lips twitched, the corner of his mouth betraying the storm he was suppressing. His pride screamed at him to retaliate, but the presence of the Aburame leader demanded restraint. With no choice, he forced himself into silence.
This boy… one day, I will make him pay for this humiliation.
The three sat together, sipping tea in silence. The hot liquid did little to thaw the icy atmosphere.
Time stretched on. They waited, and waited, yet Danzo never arrived.
At last, Yato set his cup down with a soft clink and said decisively, "It seems pointless to wait any longer. Let us go directly to the Hokage."
Uchiha Kai's eyes widened. "Didn't you say we should handle business impartially? Shouldn't we first send someone to invite Elder Danzo again?"
"I already invited him," Yato replied, his tone deceptively casual. "But no one came. Therefore, the only option is to go to his superior. That is the proper procedure. For example—if someone wishes to see me but cannot find me, they must instead go to you, the clan leader. Is that not correct?"
The analogy landed perfectly. Too perfectly. Uchiha Kai felt as though someone had driven a senbon into his chest.
Back then, when Danzo came seeking to trouble Yato, he had failed to find him and instead dumped the responsibility on Kai. That incident, which had tarnished Danzo's reputation so badly, had begun in exactly this way.
And now, Yato was twisting that logic back toward him again.
Suppressing his frustration, Kai merely nodded.
The three of them—Uchiha Yato, Uchiha Kai, and the Aburame clan leader—rose from their seats and made their way to the Hokage Building.
Within the Hokage's office, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat at his desk, the weight of endless documents stacked high before him. Since assuming the mantle of Third Hokage, such burdens had become his daily norm. Each scroll was another problem to solve, another life to manage, another piece of Konoha's fragile stability to maintain.
Suddenly, a masked figure appeared, kneeling before him.
"Hokage-sama," the Anbu captain reported, "the leaders of the Uchiha and Aburame clans, along with Uchiha Yato, request an audience. They seem to have urgent business."
The Hokage's hand paused mid-stroke. His pipe slipped slightly between his fingers.
"The Uchiha leader, the Aburame leader… and Yato?"
He sighed, already feeling the headache forming. Setting aside his pen, he straightened in his chair.
"What has been happening in the village recently?" he asked cautiously.
Then, glancing toward the captain, he added, "White Fang, do you know why they have come?"
The Anbu captain was none other than Hatake Sakumo, the famed White Fang of Konoha and father of the young prodigy Kakashi.
Sakumo shook his head. "Not clearly, Hokage-sama."
Sarutobi Hiruzen was not surprised. It would be unreasonable to expect the Anbu captain to spend his days investigating trivial village gossip. He gave a small nod and motioned for Sakumo to bring them in.
The heavy doors opened, and the three figures entered.
Yato immediately launched into his old routine, tears welling, voice trembling, and gestures exaggerated with theatrical precision. His shameless performance nearly shattered the Hokage's composure on the spot.
In the shadows, Hatake Sakumo concealed a wince. His hand unconsciously brushed the hilt of his blade, not out of threat but of sheer frustration.
He remembered all too well his complicated history with this troublesome Uchiha.
When his son Kakashi had first struggled with chakra extraction, it was Yato who had, unexpectedly, offered to help. Normally, the proud Uchiha would never lower themselves to such menial teaching tasks. Yet Yato had approached him directly, insisting that he could guide the boy.
And he did. In just a day of instruction, Kakashi had grasped the sensation of chakra. Sakumo had been grateful then, genuinely so.
But the gratitude hadn't lasted long.
The next step of training had spiraled into absurdity. Yato insisted that in order to teach water-style ninjutsu, Kakashi first needed to understand water. The method? Spending an entire day at the hot springs.
The results were undeniable: Kakashi's comprehension improved rapidly. But so did an unfortunate side effect—bedwetting.
For three mornings in a row, Sakumo had woken only to find his son's futon damp. The culprit? The excessive immersion in water-based training, courtesy of Uchiha Yato.
To make matters worse, Yato had shamelessly documented everything. With his bizarre recording device, he filmed every incident, claiming it was for "memorial purposes."
For an entire week, Kakashi suffered, both physically and mentally, until finally the problem mysteriously vanished. Somehow, Yato had resolved it—though how remained a mystery Sakumo preferred not to dwell on.
The result left Sakumo with a twisted knot of emotions: gratitude for Kakashi's progress, resentment for the humiliation, and reluctant respect for Yato's unorthodox effectiveness.
Now, watching Yato cry before the Hokage once again, Sakumo's head throbbed.
And then came the final blow.
Yato straightened suddenly, pointed dramatically at the absent Danzo, and declared in a booming voice that carried through the chamber:
"Hokage-sama! The assistant to the Hokage—Shimura Danzo—has instigated underage children to commit assassination against the poor and helpless Uchiha seedlings!"
The words echoed like a hammer strike, sending ripples through the office.
Even Sarutobi Hiruzen, long accustomed to political storms, felt his heart skip.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)
