Once a shinobi became a rogue ninja, he was branded the enemy of every village.
In the eyes of the elders, even someone like Senju Haruto would never dare to bear such a stigma.
Just moments ago, he had been Konoha's hero — the leader of Root, no less.
Could he truly throw all that away in an instant?
The difference was too vast. They believed, without question, that Haruto would never defy the Daimyō's order.
Across the table sat Konoha's leadership. Not only had Sarutobi Hiruzen chosen compromise, but Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura had followed suit as well.
It was no exaggeration to say that with a charge as heavy as this hanging over him, Haruto had no choice but to bow his head in submission.
"No answer?"
One of the elders slammed his palm down on the table. Not content with a single strike, he began pounding the wood in a steady rhythm, each impact meant to grind Haruto into yielding.
Every person present believed that Haruto would be forced to nod and obey.
Even Sarutobi Hiruzen hoped Haruto would swallow his pride just this once.
If Haruto demonstrated loyalty now, then perhaps, in the future, the Daimyō would not trouble him further.
After all, wasn't that the meaning of a shinobi — one who endures?
But what Hiruzen could never have imagined was this: Haruto had never once considered himself a shinobi.
Nor could he fathom Hiruzen's blind devotion to the Daimyō.
A Daimyō with no true power would sooner or later be cast aside by this world.
Haruto had originally intended to wait until he became Hokage before leading a revolution, before erasing the Daimyō's authority from existence altogether.
But now — now that the Daimyō had pressed him to this point — to yield without resistance would not be caution.
It would be cowardice.
Perhaps Sarutobi Hiruzen cared too much for his political image, and so chose compromise, showing weakness at times.
But Haruto was not Sarutobi Hiruzen.
You may master a thousand jutsu — I will break them with a single strike.
And what was a Daimyō without any strength at all?
"What if I do?"
Haruto's mocking laughter cut off in an instant. His gaze, sharp as a blade, locked onto the elder who had been badgering him.
At his words, every person in the room sucked in a sharp breath.
Especially Sarutobi Hiruzen. He shot up from his seat at once, shouting harshly for Haruto not to speak such reckless, suicidal words.
If Haruto truly became a rogue ninja, then even Hiruzen himself would be forced to cut him down.
Most crucial of all — Haruto was the one most likely to surpass all Hokage before him.
There was no need to clash head-on with the Daimyō.
The elder who had provoked him unconsciously stumbled back a step. In all his years of life, never had he seen eyes so cold, eyes that looked upon him as though he were already a corpse.
And to think this gaze belonged to a boy of only twelve or thirteen… it was almost unthinkable.
But no matter what, he was a servant loyal to the Daimyō.
How could he yield here?
His throat worked nervously as he forced out a voice of false calm, booming across the chamber:
"I cannot pretend I didn't hear such words! I ask you again — even if it means becoming a rogue—"
But before he could finish the sentence, his head separated cleanly from his neck.
Like a kite cut from its string, it spun away, trailing blood.
Yet even then, he did not die at once. His eyes bulged wide in disbelief as he watched his own throat erupt in a geyser of blood that splattered the ceiling red.
The other four elders, stunned by the suddenness of it, recoiled in shock.
No one had imagined Haruto would act with such ruthless finality.
He had slain one of the Daimyō's closest retainers — in front of the Daimyō himself!
Even Sarutobi Hiruzen, when he showed defiance, would at least pay lip service to the Daimyō's face.
But Haruto had offered no such courtesy.
At the head of the chamber, the Daimyō nearly toppled from his chair altogether.
His eyes bulged like saucers, his mouth hanging open in a round "O" of pure horror.
Never, in all the history of the Land of Fire, had there been such a brazen shinobi — one who dared to kill in the Daimyō's presence.
And not just anyone. He had slain the Daimyō's own confidant.
Could it be that this boy truly did not care if he became a rogue ninja?
Wasn't he supposed to love the village?
Didn't he want to become Hokage?
"Haruto, you—!"
The chamber erupted into chaos.
Almost reflexively, Sarutobi Hiruzen blurred from his seat, placing himself protectively before the Daimyō. His thoughts tangled in turmoil, his heart pounding in panic.
In the next instant, Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura followed, standing as shields before the Daimyō.
In their eyes, the Daimyō was the single most important figure in the Land of Fire.
Under no circumstances could Haruto be allowed to run wild here.
Nara Shikaku sat frozen, utterly dumbfounded. His mind had gone blank, making him the only one in the chamber who remained seated.
The four remaining elders, meanwhile, quickly shifted from shock to rage.
This was no mere act of violence — this was a challenge to their authority itself.
If Haruto was not punished harshly, then what next? Would every strong shinobi think themselves free to act with such arrogance before the Daimyō?
"Kill him!"
"Sentence him to death!"
"Sarutobi! I order you to execute this rogue ninja at once!"
"Guards! Protect the Daimyō!"
The four elders howled, summoning reinforcements and attempting to force Hiruzen's hand.
Boom!
The doors to the chamber flew open with a thunderous crash. Several jōnin and chūnin stormed inside, weapons ready.
But the sight before them left them momentarily stunned.
The elders, seeing their arrival, grew only more arrogant, shouting louder than ever.
"Seize him at once!"
"Bring him down!"
"Death penalty! I declare him sentenced to death!"
But their shrill demands only drew a laugh from Haruto.
Here they sat, the so-called holders of the Land of Fire's highest authority — yet they could not even protect themselves.
Without shinobi, they were nothing more than lambs awaiting the butcher's knife.
And these pitiful figures dared expect his obedience? His loyalty?
Absurd.
True authority lay in strength alone.
No matter how many centuries your lineage endured, no matter how high you perched above — if I choose, I will cut you down all the same.
Haruto's eyes narrowed. He didn't even bother to awaken his Sharingan.
These weaklings weren't worthy of it.
Bringing two fingers together, he gave the barest sweep forward.
A blade of invisible wind chakra tore through the air like a sword without shadow.
The four elders staggered back in panic.
But how could their frail bodies possibly escape Haruto's strike?
They managed barely two steps before the wind scythed through their throats, cleaving them cleanly in half.
Terror filled their wide eyes as they watched their own blood jet upward, painting the ceiling crimson.
Not even a scream escaped them before their severed heads struck the wall, rebounded, and rolled limply across the floor.
Sarutobi Hiruzen went deathly pale. The sheer decisiveness of Haruto's slaughter chilled him to the core.
What unsettled him even more was that Haruto had not stopped.
Those cutting eyes now turned toward him.