"How are you holding up, Renjiro? Truly."
Renjiro paused, his gaze drifting toward the floorboards. For a moment, the mask slipped, revealing the exhaustion beneath; the weight of the accusation, the surveillance, the fact that the village's leadership had allowed the situation to reach this point. But he refused to give the circumstances more power over him than they already possessed.
"Could be better. But… I've survived worse than a locked room and a few guards. There's not much to complain about."
Miwa recognised that this was not the same as saying he was fine. She let the answer stand for now, but the concern remained, a quiet ache in her chest that refused to subside.
After a short silence, Miwa leaned forward, her voice dropping to a guarded whisper. "Did you do it? Did you really cut a deal with Orochimaru?"
Renjiro did not answer immediately. His expression changed, the room seeming to become smaller as the weight of the question settled over them. Before responding, he decided to verify that the conversation was genuinely private. His eyes ignited into scarlet, the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan appearing with the intricate six-fold rotational sigil fused with a six-pointed star. The sudden ocular pressure was intense enough to make Miwa flinch and tense defensively, her hand instinctively preparing to respond.
"Renjiro! What are you doing?!"
The visual display lasted only briefly, his eyes returning to their ordinary dark appearance. He explained that he was checking her chakra pathways for foreign interference. Root had already demonstrated a willingness to use coercive investigative techniques, and an auditory or visual genjutsu tether could allow a third party to observe or manipulate the conversation. He would not discuss sensitive matters until he had ruled out that possibility.
"I had to verify your chakra pathways. Making sure you weren't carrying a foreign auditory or visual genjutsu tether from Root."
Miwa swallowed, still recovering from the sudden pressure. "…And?"
"You're clean."
Renjiro finally addressed the accusation, his voice carrying the particular caution of someone who had learned to be careful with information. "And to answer your question: I still can't tell you."
"Danzō pushed for a Yamanaka mind-probe against me and failed because the Allied Clans blocked him. But if Danzō realises he can't crack my skull, what do you think he does next? He targets the people closest to me. If Root drags you or Saki into an interrogation cell under an emergency warrant, ignorance is the only thing keeping your mind intact. The less you know about the matter, the safer you are."
Miwa reluctantly accepted the logic, though she disliked being kept in the dark. She understood that Renjiro's refusal was protective rather than dismissive, a boundary that allowed her to trust him without knowing everything he knew.
She shifted the conversation to the immediate crisis, her voice carrying the particular urgency of someone who had watched the situation deteriorate from the outside. "Then what is your plan for the assembly? The deadline is only days away."
Renjiro outlined his approach with the particular calm of someone who had spent years navigating political minefields. He would present his case within the legal bounds of the village charter, challenge the chain of custody surrounding the incriminating scroll, expose inconsistencies in the evidence, and allow the Allied Clans and Jōnin representatives to decide the matter through the established process. He had no intention of staging a coup, fleeing the village, or surrendering his rights to appease Danzō. He believed the council's own legal standards could still work in his favour if the evidence was examined properly.
"Plead my case within the legal bounds of the charter and let the clans vote. Play the system against itself."
Miwa listened, then shook her head. Renjiro was accounting for the tribunal but not for what was happening outside it. She leaned across the table, her voice carrying the particular intensity of someone who had witnessed the transformation of the village firsthand.
The rumours were no longer limited to whispered speculation among shinobi. Root-aligned operatives were spreading stories through markets, shops, and ordinary conversations. Renjiro was supposedly hoarding Hashirama's living tissue in subterranean vaults, his research portrayed as an attempt to become immortal or acquire forbidden power. His ocular abilities were being linked to Madara Uchiha; civilians were encouraged to believe that he intended to place the council under a genjutsu and seize control of Konoha. His seal embargo was portrayed as deliberate economic warfare, the claim being that he intended to starve the army and force Minato to surrender the Hokage seat.
The stories were feeding fear and suspicion throughout the civilian sector, the political crisis no longer confined to the Hokage Tower or the forthcoming assembly.
Renjiro listened without interrupting, then released a low, amused chuckle and shook his head. "Danzō really is running himself ragged, isn't he? The old man must be exhausted."
Miwa stared at him in disbelief. "Why are you laughing?! The entire civilian sector is calling you a monster, and you're treating it like a joke! Why shouldn't you be terrified of this?!"
Renjiro explained his reasoning, his voice carrying the particular confidence of someone who had spent years studying the psychology of political warfare. He did not mistake propaganda for harmlessness; he understood that rumours could shape the village's political environment. But he also distinguished between a successful legal case and a campaign designed to compensate for a failed one. If Danzō possessed conclusive evidence that could withstand open scrutiny, he would have less need to manufacture public outrage. The failed mind-probe and the inability to force Renjiro's cooperation had narrowed Danzō's available options. The smear campaign was an attempt to influence Minato and the council indirectly, by making the consequences of defending Renjiro appear politically intolerable.
"Because it's a confession of weakness, Miwa. Think about it. If Danzō had ironclad physical evidence that could survive an open tribunal, he wouldn't need to whisper lies into the ears of bakers and grocers. You only unleash a civilian smear campaign when your legal manoeuvres have failed."
He continued, connecting the propaganda to the council's failed attempts to obtain access to his mind and his private work. "He lost the mind-probe. He can't break my seals. So he's manufacturing a mob to pressure Minato. It means I have him backed into a corner—and my odds at that council are much higher than he wants the village to think."
Miwa remained unconvinced, her voice carrying the particular persistence of someone who refused to accept easy answers. "That's fine for shinobi law, Renjiro, but shinobi don't live in a vacuum. What about the court of public opinion? If the people hate you, how do you expect to lead them as Commander?"
Renjiro considered the question, his response beginning with the history of his relationship with Konoha. He never expected universal affection; the Uchiha had treated him as an outsider until his strength made him useful, and other clans had respected his work more readily than they accepted him personally. He had learned to separate professional respect from personal acceptance long ago.
"Ever since I came to this village, I never expected universal love. Half the clans viewed me as an Uzumaki outsider, and the Uchiha never truly welcomed me until I had rank to offer them. I made peace with that a long time ago. As long as they respect the strength of my work, their affection is—"
Renjiro abruptly stopped speaking, his eyes snapping shut. A sharp wince crossed his face, and his hand clamped around the edge of the low table, the wood groaning under the pressure of his fingers. For a fraction of a second, the clone's chakra signature flickered.
Miwa noticed immediately, starting to rise, unsure whether the clone was failing or Renjiro was experiencing a sudden chakra disturbance. "Renjiro? What's wrong? Is the clone failing?"
He slowly opened his eyes, the trace of amusement vanishing from his expression. His gaze became cold and analytical, his attention fixed on a possibility he had not fully considered until now. He looked directly into Miwa's eyes, his voice dropping to a low whisper that carried the weight of a terrible realisation.
"Miwa… why the hell would the Uchiha clan higher-ups want to see me?"
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