Konoha, the open area in front of the Hokage Tower.
The night wind swept through, carrying a chill in the air, but it couldn't disperse the heavy atmosphere.
Hiruzen stood at the very front, his silver-white hair gently ruffled by the wind. The wrinkles on his face were like furrows plowed by time, the folds at the corners of his eyes deep enough to trap passing insects.
His thin, short frame was wrapped in the Hokage's robe, looking like a piece of sun-scorched dead wood. Yet, with him standing there, the very air around seemed to press down.
Having been Hokage for decades, the presence Hiruzen carried was like water-soaked cotton, heavy and intensely oppressive.
The Shinobi behind him stood like iron stakes driven into the ground. Countless forehead protectors gleamed coldly under the night sky, a dense mass of figures filling the open area.
In the surrounding dark corners, Anbu and Root's members seemed to melt into the shadows. The pressure was like a wet towel wrapped around one's mouth and nose, stifling breath.
Makoto was dragged over by Fugaku. He looked around and couldn't help but scrutinize Hiruzen a bit more.
Unlike the dry, thin, short old man from the anime who didn't seem very strong, the real Hiruzen appeared exceptionally imposing.
As they approached the crowd, countless gazes instantly pinned on him… curious, scrutinizing, wary, and the unreadable eyes behind the masks of the Anbu and Root's members.
Makoto felt a bit uncomfortable under the stares and raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you all staring at me like that? Making me feel kinda shy." Makoto's lips lifted slightly in a smile, joking with everyone with extreme familiarity.
As soon as the words fell, Fugaku's low shout came down, carrying unprecedented seriousness:
"Makoto, do you realize your mistake? How could you do such a prank? Apologize to Hokage-sama at once!"
Hearing this, Makoto took two steps forward, stopping only three meters away from Hiruzen. He tilted his head, examining the other, his gaze sliding from the old man's wrinkles down to the tobacco-stained collar, and suddenly said:
"Was my drawing not good enough for you?"
Hearing this, Hiruzen's gaze settled on Makoto's face.
Makoto's eyes were very bright, but they were clean inside… no awe, no worship, not even the restraint one should have when facing the Hokage. Only pure curiosity, like looking at a bug in a hole.
It's completely different from the children in the village who would blush and bow upon seeing him.
He's like a wild grass that hadn't been trimmed by Konoha's rules, exuding a wildness that seemed detached from the shinobi world.
Hiruzen examined Makoto for quite a while. He even felt that this child's vandalism of the Hokage Rock might genuinely be just a simple prank.
He recalled the scene from earlier… when this child jumped from the hundred-meter-high Hokage Rock, there was no trace of fear in his eyes, instead an indescribable excitement...
'This kid was either incredibly bold, simply not caring about life and death, or not quite right in the head...'
After pondering for a while, Hiruzen reached these conclusions.
As long as it wasn't a deliberate provocation by the Uchiha Clan, it was fine. These were troubled times, and Konoha couldn't afford a civil war. But he still needed to confirm. He glanced at Danzo beside him.
The latter immediately let out a light snort, understanding Hiruzen's meaning, murmuring inwardly: 'Hiruzen, you are still too soft-hearted... no longer fit to be Hokage.'
Danzo rolled his eyes inwardly, his fingers tightening inside his sleeves: "We should take this opportunity to properly discipline the Uchiha Clan."
The next moment, Danzo took half a step forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Hiruzen.
His black robe swept over the gravel on the ground, making faint grating sounds. His voice was like polished sheet metal, carrying a coldness as if tempered with poison: "Inherently evi…"
Before he could finish, the gazes of the surrounding Uchiha clansmen were already stabbing over like needles.
Hiruzen timely gave a light cough, his tobacco pipe turning halfway between his fingers.
Danzo swallowed his teacher's classic line and, glancing at his old partner, continued: "Boy, did someone order you to do this?"
As the words fell, his exposed single eye swept towards the Uchiha Clan's Great Elder. That gaze was like a hook, specifically poking at the old fox's soft spots.
The little tricks this old fox had been playing over the years, openly and secretly, couldn't escape Danzo's eye. As for Fugaku, he didn't have the guts.
Makoto pursed his lips, thinking to himself: 'One plays the good cop, the other the bad cop. Danzo, you really are the Sandaime old man's golden tool.'
Seeing that this inherently evil Uchiha brat dared to ignore him, Danzo's single eye glared furiously, like a man-eating beast.
Behind Makoto, Itachi's foot ground a shallow half-mark into the bluestone.
That foot lifted into the air but hovered, his knee trembling slightly. He wanted to step forward, to shield Makoto, to protect him from the storm.
But the thought that the other side was the Hokage and Konoha's higher-ups made that foot hesitate to step up.
Yet his mind recalled how Makoto had earlier preferred to doubt the world rather than doubt him... even suffering so much he awakened the Sharingan at two and a half years old. His heart felt as if gripped by something.
Itachi gritted his teeth. The hem of his black coat was lifted by the wind and fell again. He forced himself to take a step forward, blocking in front of Makoto.
His voice was full of tension, yet each word was clear: "Danzo-sama, Makoto didn't mean it. He's just... a bit mischievous."
Hiruzen, watching this scene, sighed softly inwardly.
The embers in his pipe flickered twice. He thought: 'This child, Uchiha Itachi... his Will of Fire is still not firm enough... I must give him more lessons.'
At that moment, the Uchiha Clan's Great Elder, leaning on his cane, shuffled two steps forward. A dull 'thud' sounded as the cane struck the ground, raising tiny puffs of dust.
The Uchiha Clan's hawkish strong members followed closely behind, like a group of black panthers ready to pounce.
The Sharingan lit up one after another among the crowd. Crimson tomoe rotated within pupils, like blades tempered in blood, full of undisguised pressure.
"Matters of the Uchiha Clan, since when does Root have the right to interfere?" The Great Elder's voice was wrapped in anger. His cane struck the ground again, and he continued:
"Even the Sandaime Hokage hasn't spoken. What qualification does a mere Hokage Advisor have?" The last few words fell like strikes on an iron plate, capable of sparking fire.
This was poking directly at Danzo's sore spot. The situation instantly froze.
The night wind, carrying the scent of Konoha, seemed to hang in the air. The smell of gunpowder in the air was so thick it seemed about to explode. Even the distant chirping of insects died down.
Just then, Makoto squeezed out from behind Itachi.
He strode up to Danzo's right arm, examined the white-bandage-wrapped limb for a moment, lifted his chin, and said:
"Ordered?"
He suddenly raised his voice, his clear tone exploding across the open area: "What order? Who ordered me?"
"I simply admire the Hokage from the bottom of my heart! I wanted to add some color to the successive Hokage Rocks! Look at that touch of green I added to the Yondaime Hokage's head, isn't it beautiful? So full of the breath of life!" (T/N: Green on head usually means being cuckolded.)
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FOR EVERY 50 POWER STONES, I'LL UPLOAD ONE CHAPTER