The council hall was still a maelstrom of celebration and quiet resentment when Renjiro rose from his seat. The noise washed over him—the cheers of Minato's supporters, the low murmur of the Uchiha, the shuffling of feet as the crowd began to disperse—but he moved through it with the same calm detachment he brought to everything. His gaze met Shiori's, and he gave a slight nod.
"Let's walk."
She fell into step beside him, her presence unobtrusive but deliberate. They moved away from the Uchiha section, away from the cluster of civilian shinobi who were still exchanging congratulations, away from the centre of the hall where Minato was accepting the adulation of the village.
Renjiro walked with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Shiori matched his pace, her robes whispering against the stone floor.
"You're not surprised," she said. It was not a question.
"I'm rarely surprised."
"And the nomination? Were you surprised by that?"
He glanced at her, his dark eyes sharp. "Yes."
She smiled—a small, knowing expression. "Good. I was hoping for that reaction."
They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the hall fading behind them. The corridors were empty, the lanterns casting long shadows across the polished floor. Somewhere, a door closed with a soft thud. The building was settling into the quiet of the evening, the business of the day concluded.
Behind them, in the Uchiha section, the celebration was a distant hum. Fugaku sat motionless, his face a mask of controlled dignity. Around him, the clan's representatives were beginning to stir, their whispered conversations carrying the particular edge of disappointment.
Uchiha Genji rose from his seat. He was old, older than most of the clan's leadership, his hair white, his face lined with decades of service. But his eyes were sharp, his presence commanding. He moved to Fugaku's side and bent low, his voice pitched for the clan head's ears alone.
"Did you see him?"
Fugaku's expression did not change. "Who?"
"Renjiro." Genji's voice was dry, almost accusing. "He left with that civilian woman. The one who spoke of his nomination."
Fugaku's jaw tightened, just slightly. "I saw."
"And before that, he spoke with Shiba Nara. And Minato Namikaze." Genji straightened, his gaze sweeping the Uchiha section, ensuring that others were listening. "He moves among them freely, our young prodigy. The Nara. The civilian faction. The new Hokage." He paused. "And yet he sits among us like a stranger."
The murmurs that followed were low, but they spread quickly. Eyes turned toward the empty seat where Renjiro had been, then back to Fugaku.
Genji pressed his advantage.
"Your father, Uchiha Daichi, warned us about this. He said that the boy could not be trusted. That his loyalties were divided. That he would put his own interests above the clan." He shook his head slowly. "It seems your father was right."
Fugaku did not respond. His silence was not agreement—but it was not denial either. He simply sat, his dark eyes fixed on the front of the hall, his expression unreadable.
The seeds of suspicion had been planted. And in the fertile soil of defeat, they would grow.
=====
The evening light slanted through the windows, warm and golden, painting the room in shades of amber and honey. Kushina sat at the kitchen table, her chin propped on her hand, her red hair spilling over her shoulders. Across from her, Renjiro's shadow clone sat with his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful.
"So you want to store Tailed Beast chakra," Kushina said, her voice carrying the particular skepticism of someone who had spent her entire life managing the Nine-Tails. "In a seal. That anyone could use."
"Not anyone," the clone replied. "Trained shinobi. Under controlled conditions."
"And why would anyone need that much power?" She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Renjiro, Tailed Beast chakra is not like regular chakra. It's corrosive. It's alive. It doesn't just sit there waiting to be used."
The clone opened his mouth to respond—
And stopped.
His expression flickered—a micro-shift, barely perceptible, but Kushina caught it. She had known him too long, had seen him in too many battles, to miss the signs.
"What's wrong?"
The clone raised a hand, silencing her. He formed a single hand sign, and a second shadow clone materialised beside him. The new clone touched the original's shoulder, and then—poof —it dispelled, the chakra flowing back into the original.
The clone's eyes widened. His posture stiffened. For a long moment, he said nothing.
Kushina leaned forward, her concern sharpening.
"Renjiro. What happened?"
The clone's voice, when it came, was calm, but there was something beneath it—a tension, a weight that had not been there before.
"I have bad news," he said. "And even worse news."
Kushina blinked. "Isn't it usually good news and bad news?"
"This is a special occasion."
She stared at him, her confusion mounting. "Tell me the worse one first."
The clone took a breath.
"I was nominated to become Hokage."
Silence.
Kushina's expression did not change. She simply stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
"That's…" She paused, processing. "That's not bad news. I mean, it's unexpected, but—"
"That's the worst news."
"Then what's the bad news?"
The clone met her eyes, his expression utterly deadpan.
"You're now the wife of the Fourth Hokage."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Kushina's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Her hand, which had been resting on the table, tightened into a fist. Her chakra, always volatile, spiked—a brief flare that made the papers on the table rustle.
"What?"
"Minato won the election," the clone continued, his voice still calm. "He's the Fourth Hokage. And you're his wife."
"I know I'm his wife!" Kushina's voice rose. "I was there for the wedding! What I don't understand is why you're telling me this like it's bad news!"
"Because you didn't sign up for this." The clone's expression softened, just slightly. "You married Minato, not the Hokage. You married a man, not a title. And now that title is going to consume both of your lives."
Kushina stared at him. The anger faded, replaced by something more complicated—fear, perhaps, or the dawning recognition of what was coming.
"How long have you known?" she asked.
"A few minutes. The real me is still at the council hall."
He paused. "I thought you deserved to hear it from someone who cares."
Kushina was silent for a long moment. Then she leaned back in her chair, her hand moving to her stomach—a gesture so automatic, so unconscious, that she didn't seem to realise she was doing it.
"I need to see him," she said finally. "Minato. I need to see him."
"He'll be busy for a while. Celebrations. Meetings. The Daimyo."
"I don't care." She stood, her chair scraping against the floor. "I need to see my husband."
=====
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