Early the next morning, after saya left the Uchiha compound, Uchiha Shin quietly began to move.
Even though he did not know exactly what the ANBU intended to do, he had already given his word.
And once he made a promise, he would see it through.
Truthfully, fully consolidating the Police Force was sothing he had always planned to do eventually. It was just that now, the timing had been pushed forward.
At present, only the last remaining squad inside the Police Force was still stubbornly holding out. The other two had long since fallen completely under the control of Uchiha Shin and Uchiha Kuu.
This final squad was a little different.
Before Shin began reaching into it, he had not fully grasped just how complicated its makeup really was. But now he understood it all too clearly.
Inside were doves, hawks, and plenty of fence-sitters who remained fanatically loyal to the clan head.
That naturally made the squad extrely difficult to control.
Even with Uchiha Kuu secretly diating and persuading the hawks to co over, progress had still been painfully slow.
After all, Kuu was a "dead man."
There was only so much a dead man could do in the shadows before he drew too much attention.
But now, we can’t keep going like this.
With that thought in mind, Uchiha Shin strode into a small courtyard.
The place looked desolate at first glance, but a closer look revealed multiple Uchiha shinobi hidden around it, keeping watch.
Still, the guards paid no attention at all when they saw Shin arrive.
He passed through without obstruction and made his way straight into one of the rooms inside the courtyard.
"Hmph."
The mont he stepped in, a cold snort reached his ears.
Shin did not react. His gaze swept across the room once before he continued toward the inner chamber.
The one who had made that noise was no outsider.
It was one of the dove-faction elders Shin had forcibly captured and detained a year ago.
These had once been his comrades—his friends, his brothers-in-arms.
But when he chose a road none of them had ever imagined, those very sa friends and comrades had inevitably beco his enemies.
Shin had never wanted things to turn out that way.
But he had long since understood that wanting sothing did not an he could change it.
Even so, he had never killed them.
He had spared them just as he had spared Uchiha Kuu.
Whether because of personal bonds or because they all belonged to the sa clan, Shin simply could not bring himself to do otherwise.
He pushed open the innermost sliding door and stepped inside.
There, seated quietly with a kettle in hand, was an old man making tea.
Steam rose steadily from the spout, curling through the room and blending strangely well with the weather outside.
It was already December now.
The sky had begun to spill down goose-feather snow, and though the accumulation on the ground was still thin, winter’s chill had already spread across the entire shinobi world.
"Shin? What brings you here?"
Uchiha Kuu glanced up from the tea set and smiled faintly when he saw him enter.
Though he was a loser in the eyes of many...
Though he was effectively under house arrest...
Though, by all outward appearances, he was already a dead man...
His mindset remained surprisingly steady.
Perhaps that was because, in the end, everything he had done had been for the Uchiha.
Now that he had learned of the clan’s possible future, and had co to understand the pros and cons of Shin’s chosen path, much of the bitterness inside him had faded.
And Shin sparing him at the critical mont had also made a difference.
Unlike the others, Kuu no longer carried that sa festering resentnt.
"I ca because there’s sothing important we need to discuss."
Shin sat down without ceremony, his voice calm.
"Sothing is about to happen inside Konoha. And when it does, the ANBU may need us to take a clear stand. So we need to move faster."
"Sothing is about to happen?"
Kuu frowned slightly.
That was not good news.
"This won’t be a small matter, then. But if we act now, won’t it be too rushed?"
It was rushed.
Shin had indeed changed much of the Police Force’s conduct, and with the appearance of that thing called the newspaper, the villagers had finally begun to see that the Uchiha were changing.
Even if Kuu, deep down, still looked down on such thods.
In his eyes, the Uchiha were lions.
And lions did not live in harmony with sheep.
But what frustrated him was that above their lion stood sothing more like a tyrannosaurus.
And aside from that, he had to admit the truth.
The distance between the clan and the villagers really had grown smaller.
And the clan itself really had begun to improve.
But the clan’s improvent was one matter.
Who truly controlled the Uchiha was another matter entirely.
Shin was still not the true master of the clan.
Yes, he had achieved trendous success inside the Police Force, and yes, he had absorbed many of his old followers back into his camp—
but Fugaku had also gathered plenty of people to his side.
Because Fugaku was still the clan head.
And with that title ca legitimacy.
Especially now, after losing one eye, Uchiha Fugaku had grown increasingly strange.
Increasingly hardline.
Increasingly severe.
If they truly moved against him, Shin and the others might well be able to win.
But the cost would be enormous.
"It is rushed," Shin said seriously, looking at Kuu. "But I think it will be fine. This ti, I need you to act in person—not through soone else."
Kuu clenched his jaw, then slowly nodded.
"I understand. I already said I would cooperate with you."
After a mont, he let out a quiet sigh.
"I just hope this can pass smoothly. After all, this ti the target is the clan head—not a few elders like us."
"The clan head?"
Shin blinked, then shook his head with a laugh.
He realized Kuu had misunderstood.
Maybe he had not explained himself clearly.
Or maybe he had looked too urgent, which had created the wrong impression.
He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and let the fragrance roll across his tongue before swallowing.
"I have no intention of moving against Uchiha Fugaku for now," he said at last.
"What I want... is the Police Force."
"A Police Force fully under my control."
Kuu’s expression shifted.
"So you an the Police Force will speak in place of the clan head?" he asked slowly. "Or that, when the ti cos, the Force’s position will matter more than the clan head’s?"
"I don’t know," Shin admitted, shaking his head.
"But saya told she wants the Police Force to show a clear attitude when whatever cos next finally happens."
He said no more.
Across from him, Kuu fell silent and thought it over for a long while.
Then he raised his head and looked straight at Shin.
"What exactly did saya ask you to do?"
Shin set down the cup and answered without hesitation.
"I told her I would do everything in my power."
...
Inside a small conference room in the ANBU headquarters, Hikaru sat with a faint smile on his face as he looked at Yamanaka Inoichi across from him.
The two had t more than once before.
But the eting Hikaru rembered most clearly was the ti Inoichi had examined his mories.
Back then, the man had used his clan’s secret techniques to guide and hypnotize him, trying to pry hidden truths out of his mind.
Hikaru had not forgotten that at all.
At the ti, however, he had neither enough strength nor enough status to truly resist, so he had no choice but to compromise and yield.
Still, even then, he had managed to turn the tables once.
He had deliberately revealed his clan background.
Of course, Hikaru suspected that was exactly what Hiruzen had wanted him to reveal.
At the ti, Minato had not been Hokage for very long, and Hiruzen had likely wanted to use that information to keep the Ino–Shika–Chō alliance from leaning too fully toward Minato.
For him, subtly pinning Inoichi down that way had never been a difficult thing to do.
But tis had changed.
Everything had reversed.
The Hikaru of today stood at the very peak of the ANBU.
And though the one coming to see him this ti was still Yamanaka Inoichi, the aning behind this eting was completely different from before.
Last night, the insect-delivered ssage had said plainly that Inoichi wanted to see him.
And after reading it, Hikaru had only shaken his head.
He knew roughly why Inoichi had co.
And once again, he could not help marveling at Danzō’s talent for courting disaster.
"Inoichi-dono, it’s been a while."
Hikaru smiled lightly.
"No matter what, we’re old acquaintances. Still, I didn’t expect you to co looking for ."
"You’re too kind, Minister."
Inoichi forced out a bitter smile.
"I belong to the Intelligence Division and also handle so matters tied to the ANBU. Strictly speaking, you are my superior."
"My superior?"
Hikaru kept smiling.
"I’ve never once thought of you as my subordinate. Or as the ANBU’s subordinate, for that matter."
That was not mockery.
Inoichi’s status—and the standing of the Intelligence Division he represented—was no small thing.
But given their less-than-pleasant history, Hikaru’s tone still made Inoichi’s expression stiffen.
He had the sudden sense that the thing he feared most had co true.
That Hikaru still rembered exactly what he had done back then.
In truth, Inoichi had long wanted to nd that relationship.
But dealing with Hikaru required the right footing, and Hikaru’s rise had been far faster than he had ever imagined.
At first, Hikaru had rely been a squad leader.
Then, before anyone realized it, he had beco a division captain.
That alone already placed him beyond the reach of ordinary ANBU shinobi.
Inoichi naturally could no longer treat him the way he had treated a re squad leader.
Then, when he had finally made the necessary preparations and was planning to invite Hikaru out privately, the Nine-Tails incident happened.
And after that storm passed, the forr division captain had beco the Minister of the ANBU.
Neither Inoichi nor Nara Shikaku had seen that coming.
But there was no undoing it now.
And they both understood there was far more behind this young minister than appeared on the surface.
If possible, they would have preferred to remain neutral and stay out of the power struggle altogether.
But under Danzō’s increasingly reckless moves, they no longer had that luxury.
In canon, Inoichi had never acted.
That was because Minato had died, and Hiruzen had never intended to select a Fifth Hokage.
So Inoichi had no choice but to swallow everything in silence.
And Abura Shibi had been the sa.
Without a better alternative, they had all chosen patience.
But things were different now.
"All right, enough joking, Inoichi-dono."
Hikaru tapped the table lightly, pulling Inoichi out of his thoughts.
"What exactly is it that you want?"
Inoichi steadied himself and put the rest aside.
"I ca because there is sothing very important I need to discuss."
"It’s about Danzō, Minister."
He knew Hikaru probably already understood most of it.
But he still had to say it aloud.
It was an issue of attitude, and a form of guarantee as well.
What he wanted to ask for was dangerous no matter how anyone looked at it.
And given the unresolved tension between him and Hikaru, speaking plainly was also the only way to earn so degree of trust.
So he explained everything carefully and in full.
As Hikaru listened, he realized it was nearly identical to what Abura Shibi had gone through.
Danzō really did have a sharp eye when it ca to choosing targets.
The clans he preyed on all possessed abilities especially suited to root-level work—or to the ANBU.
But because he insisted on using coercion, and because he had beco so convinced he could control everything, he had pushed himself into the position he occupied now:
surrounded by enemies.
When Inoichi finally finished, Hikaru nodded slightly.
"What a disaster," he said softly.
"I never imagined Danzō-dono would go this far."
"Minister, this ti I ca because I hope to receive your help."
Inoichi kept his head bowed, his voice low.
"Just like Shibi-dono and the others... the only one left I can ask is you."
"Oh?"
Hikaru gave a quiet laugh and drumd his fingers slowly on the table.
"And why exactly do you think I helped Shibi-dono and the others?"
"This is no small matter, after all. Danzō-dono’s backer is—"
"I know."
Inoichi cut him off, his voice still low but now entirely firm.
"We all know."
"We know how difficult this is. We know how dangerous it is. But we’ve already made our choice."
"If Minister Hikaru helps us get through this crisis, then from this day forward, we will offer our first support to you—and to the Fourth Hokage."
At that point, nothing more needed to be said.
Inoichi had overturned the table himself.
He had realized Hikaru would never easily show his hand, so he had simply said everything as clearly as possible.
By putting it that bluntly, he had shut down all room for evasion.
It was bold.
And, Hikaru had to admit, more than a little interesting.
"Impressive," Hikaru said after a long silence.
"I wonder if Shikaku-dono taught you to negotiate with like this."
A sheen of tension and exhaustion lingered on Inoichi’s face.
"He did," he admitted.
"He told this wasn’t the kind of thing we could drag out."
"If we’ve made our decision, then we shouldn’t hesitate."
"Hesitation would only make you think we weren’t serious, Minister. And vague words would only leave us trapped between two sides."
"The Fourth Hokage is Konoha’s lawful Hokage."
"The Third is only acting in his place."
"But what he is doing now... has chilled us to the bone."
"Even if we can’t remove the Third outright—or even if the Fourth Hokage has other plans—at the very least, we can make sure he hears our voices."
Hikaru listened quietly from start to finish.
Then, at the end, he laughed.
Nara Shikaku truly deserved his reputation as the sharpest mind in the original story.
Hikaru could say with certainty that he had never really t the man.
They had never even had any aningful direct contact.
And yet sohow, Shikaku seed to understand him—or perhaps he had simply pieced together the situation from tiny changes in the political winds and inferred far more than most ever could.
The more Hikaru thought about it, the more he realized Shikaku’s guesses aligned surprisingly well with both his thoughts and his actions.
And in truth, Hikaru welcod Inoichi’s visit.
The weight Inoichi carried was enormous.
Behind him stood not just the Yamanaka, but the Nara and Akimichi as well.
One man, three clans.
Looking at the determination written all over Inoichi’s face, Hikaru suddenly rose to his feet.
He walked toward the door.
And as he passed him, he casually laid a hand on Inoichi’s shoulder.
"It’s already ti for you to make your report," Hikaru said calmly.
"I assu you still have other duties to attend to, Inoichi-dono."
"But for this particular matter, I expect a written report delivered to ."
"That won’t be a problem, will it?"
"Of course not!"
Inoichi answered at once.
That single sentence had told him everything he needed to know.
"All right. Then I want it in my office by five this afternoon."
"Can you manage that?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
...
By dawn, the streets of Konoha were already packed.
Especially the newspaper stalls scattered throughout the village, where the crowds had grown so thick it was hard to see the vendors behind them.
Ever since the paper had been introduced, it had quietly beco part of daily life—not just for Konoha’s villagers, but for the people of the Land of Fire as well.
After all, that little bundle of pages let them learn what was happening across the entire shinobi world.
It satisfied an enormous hunger for information.
And the Land of Fire was wealthy enough that even ordinary civilians could spare a little money now and then.
Otherwise, they would never have been able to afford hiring shinobi to solve their problems in the first place.
Besides, Hikaru had never intended to make serious money from the paper.
He had set the price absurdly low—low enough that anyone short of starving could afford it.
But that low price created a problem of its own:
every morning, far too many people ca to buy it.
No matter how many stalls they set up, it was never enough.
"Oh no, oh no—don’t tell I overslept. What if they’re sold out?"
A Konoha chūnin nad Miike Kento hurried toward a stall in a panic.
He was an ordinary middle-ranking shinobi.
If he had a team, he went on missions.
If he didn’t, he picked up simple work—grass cutting, odd jobs, and the like.
He understood his talent had probably taken him as far as it ever would.
Still, he was satisfied with his life.
It might be plain.
It might not involve much progress.
But plain was good.
He had seen war with his own eyes.
He had seen how ugly battlefields could beco.
That was why he genuinely treasured these peaceful days with the woman he loved.
And every morning, he liked reading the paper to learn what was happening in the wider world.
"It’s just that way too many people buy this thing every day..."
He muttered to himself, but he also knew there was no helping it.
Everyone wanted the first batch of fresh information.
Nobody wanted to be the fool standing there while others discussed the paper’s contents and had no idea what they were talking about.
By the ti he finally squeezed into the crowd and nearly fought for it, Kento managed to grab a copy.
Buying the morning edition really did feel like robbing a battlefield.
But at least he had one.
"Good. Got it."
Letting out a sigh of relief, he walked toward the mission office while flipping open the paper.
Then his steps stopped.
He had barely turned to the first page when the bold headline struck him like a blow.
The Ghosts in Konoha
Just from the title alone, it was obvious this was no small matter.
Kento didn’t really know what Konoha looked like beneath the surface.
Maybe that was simply because his rank wasn’t high enough to give him access to those layers of truth.
But no matter what, the chance to glimpse secrets usually hidden from him was enough to make his blood race.
"The ghosts in Konoha... what the hell is that supposed to an?"
Swallowing hard, he began to read.
And the more he read, the colder his body beca.
Everyone knew Konoha had the ANBU.
But according to this article, Konoha also possessed another force—one comparable to the ANBU in authority and scope.
The paper did not na them.
It did not explain their exact tasks either.
But through the words of several clan heads, it described how their clans had been forced into submission, how their talents had been taken away, and how they had endured relentless pressure.
The details were limited.
Perhaps the matter was too sensitive, which was why the article avoided naming specific clans outright.
But what made it terrifying was that there were many such testimonies.
Each ca with clear tis and locations.
Nothing about it felt fabricated.
And more importantly—no one would dare make sothing like this up lightly.
The price for doing so would be unimaginable.
"Konoha... has sothing like this hidden inside it?"
Kento’s curiosity had been fully hooked.
But as that curiosity was fed, a deeper, darker terror began to rise in its place.
If even clan shinobi could be pushed this far, then what did that an for ordinary shinobi like him?
The article offered no direct answer.
Still, the implication was obvious enough.
Whoever commanded this hidden force did not regard regular shinobi as people at all.
"How can sothing like that even exist in Konoha...?"
Kento couldn’t make sense of it.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Countless civilians and ordinary shinobi reading that article were equally bewildered.
But others understood imdiately.
Konoha’s jōnin did.
The clan heads certainly did.
After all, reaching jōnin was already the upper threshold for most shinobi.
Those who stood at that level possessed both strength and brains—and access to information ordinary people would never touch.
They knew at least fragnts of the existence of such a secret force.
So seeing it dragged into the open like this, written in blood and implication, left them shaken, silent, and furious.
There had long been strange disappearances in Konoha.
Entire families gone overnight.
So of those cases were eventually acknowledged by the ANBU.
But others simply vanished into the void—unsolved, unresolved, forgotten.
And that in itself had always been suspicious.
Those cases never spread widely.
They never caused public uproar.
Even when soone sensed sothing was wrong, the matter would eventually sink without a trace.
No one had proof.
No one could prove what those victims had done—if they had done anything at all.
And although the ANBU could be brutal, they still gave reasons.
At the very least, the Hokage’s office would circulate so explanation.
But this...
this was sothing else entirely.
"Was this hidden force behind all of it?"
That thought spread like wildfire.
The rchants fell silent first, because so of the victims ntioned were even jōnin they personally knew.
The clan heads reacted even more violently.
Whether they had already been drawn into the affair, or had chosen silence, or had not yet been targeted at all—
none of them could stomach the implications.
And almost imdiately, they understood who stood behind it.
That realization filled them not only with anger, but with cold fear.
Because they knew exactly who stood behind him.
And they knew what would happen if matters continued on this path.
In that instant, the atmosphere in all of Konoha turned strangely tense.
And when more than a dozen clan heads suddenly gathered outside the Hokage Building at once, everyone understood that this had beco a major incident.
...
"Damn it!"
Hiruzen slamd his fist down on the desk.
As he stared at the paper in his hands, fury twisted across his face.
He had never imagined things would spiral this far.
Danzō had actually broken one of the shinobi world’s unspoken rules and begun sticking his hands directly into the clan system without restraint?
Worse still, Hikaru had been dragging so much of his attention away lately that he had failed to notice any of it.
The article did not explicitly na the clans Danzō had "visited," but Hiruzen could guess so of them.
And when the shinobi outside reported that more than a dozen clan heads were already gathered beneath the Hokage Tower—including the Inuzuka, Abura, and Yamanaka—
he knew the situation had already crossed into disaster.
"Hiruzen!"
At that mont, Koharu and Homura burst through the door, both wearing extrely grim expressions.
"What in the world is going on?" Koharu demanded. "What’s with that newspaper? And what’s happening downstairs with all those clan heads?"
"What’s happening?"
Hiruzen shot to his feet, rage pouring out of him.
"You’re asking what’s happening?"
"Then go ask Shimura Danzō what he’s done!"
He had practically roared Danzō’s na aloud.
This ti, the ss was too big.
So big that even Hiruzen felt a genuine chill.
So big that he could already sense the cracks forming inside Konoha itself.
He had never imagined the man he had trusted would beco this foolish—or that the things he had done would escalate to this point.
"Stop shouting," Homura snapped. "We need to take action imdiately. We should order the ANBU to pull those papers back before—"
"Before what?"
Hiruzen cut him off sharply.
"Arrest Senju Hikaru? Cut the ANBU’s funding?"
"Don’t be stupid. If you dare do sothing like that, he’ll dare do far worse right back."
"That’s true," Koharu said, brow furrowed. "And if we force him to recall the papers now, that’s basically a confession."
"Even if we can’t fully contain this anymore, we need to minimize how far it spreads."
Minimize the spread.
At present, that was the only thing they could do.
But after saying it, Koharu herself fell silent.
How, exactly, were they supposed to suppress it?
That was the real problem.
And suddenly they realized they had no real ans to do so.
Because with the existence of the paper, control of public opinion now sat entirely in the hands of that Senju brat.
Yes, they had already begun trying to imitate the format with a publication of their own.
But nothing they produced ca close to matching Hikaru’s reach or effect.
If they wanted to suppress the uproar, then there were only two people they could talk to:
Hikaru.
And the clan heads.
But eting Hikaru was the last thing they wanted to do.
Because all three of them could already guess that he would not yield easily.
"We’ll et him."
Hiruzen’s face was dark as iron when he finally said it.
"If this isn’t dealt with properly, the village will suffer."
"Hiruzen..."
Homura hesitated.
"If you go to et him now, then what about Danzō—"
"Enough!"
Hiruzen shut him down with a harsh bark.
For a brief mont, the full weight of the old "Professor" returned.
"There is nothing more important than the village’s safety."
"Not you. Not ."
His voice was steady now, heavy and absolute.
Then he closed his eyes and spoke one final sentence.
"This matter must be settled."
"And so people... and so things... must pay the price."
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