The sun had already gone below the horizon when the evening bell rang.
Its sound echoed through Konoha—deep, slow, and solemn.
The jōnin meeting was about to begin.
Inside the Hokage Tower, the council hall stood fully prepared. Torches burned steadily along the walls, their flames casting long shadows across the polished floor. Every seat was occupied by Konoha's higher-ups.
At the centre sat Hiruzen Sarutobi.
His pipe lay untouched on the table beside him.
Clan heads and senior jōnin arrived one after another, bowing respectfully to the Hokage before taking their seats. The heads of the Hyūga, Nara, Kurama, and Aburame clans entered in turn, each wearing the same composed, unreadable expressions.
Finally, Fugaku Uchiha entered the hall.
Elder Kazuto and Elder Kohaku followed close behind. Fugaku offered a restrained bow toward the Hokage and took his seat without a word. As the Uchiha settled in, the atmosphere shifted—quietly, subtly, yet unmistakably.
A few minutes later, the doors opened once more.
The Grand Elder, Setsuna, entered alongside Toyoma.
Their conversation, spoken without any attempt to lower their voices, carried clearly through the chamber.
"This is the council hall," Setsuna said calmly, his words edged with meaning.
"It is where many important decisions for the village are made."
Toyoma glanced around the room before turning back to him.
"What kind of important decisions?" he asked.
"Many kinds," Setsuna replied evenly. "Even Hokage elections are conducted here."
Toyoma paused. His gaze drifted across the faces seated around the hall—clan heads, veterans, decision-makers. After a moment of quiet consideration, he spoke again.
"So this is the opening of this hall, then?"
Setsuna turned to look at him.
"No," he said. "This hall was built when the village itself was founded—by the Senju and the Uchiha."
Toyoma nodded slowly.
"Then how many Hokage elections have been held here?"
The moment the question left his mouth, the air changed.
Several jōnin stiffened. Others turned to stare at him, unease flickering across their faces—as if suddenly aware that something inappropriate had been said, yet unable to explain why.
Setsuna studied Toyoma for a long moment.
"Hm," he murmured thoughtfully."None, I suppose."
A brief pause followed.
"Yes… you are correct. This truly is the opening of this hall."
At that—
Hiruzen's fingers tightened slightly against the table.
Around the chamber, expressions darkened, shoulders tensed, and breaths were quietly held.
Because everyone present understood what had just been implied.
Elder Setsuna and Toyoma took their seats.
For a moment, both simply observed the chamber.
Silence settled over the council hall.
It was neither awkward nor respectful—rather, it was the kind of silence born from uncertainty. No one quite knew how to speak first after what had just been implied.
Hiruzen's gaze lingered on the Grand Elder.
From the beginning, he had expected this meeting to be an opportunity—to apply pressure on the Uchiha, to force concessions through authority and numbers.
Instead, Setsuna and Toyoma had redirected the opening toward the matter of Hokage succession.
Hiruzen understood immediately.
If he spoke of how a Hokage was chosen, or invoked the Will of Fire, it would not calm the room.
It would backfire.
So he coughed lightly, drawing attention.
"Well," Hiruzen began, his tone calm and measured, "I called this meeting on short notice. I understand that doing so may have caused inconvenience—especially during a time of war."
He inclined his head slightly.
"However, an issue has arisen—one we did not anticipate. If left unresolved, it could weaken our position in the ongoing conflict."
His gaze swept across the hall.
"That is why I believed this meeting was necessary. For the trouble caused, I offer my apologies."
A jōnin rose slightly from his seat.
"Hokage-sama," he said firmly, "there is no need to apologise. The village comes first."
Another followed."Yes, Hokage-sama."
One by one, voices echoed in agreement.
Hiruzen raised a hand gently.
"Thank you," he said. "For your understanding—of both my decision and the village's difficulties."
He paused.
"Now that everyone has arrived, we will begin."
Turning slightly, he said, "Elder Homura."
Homura nodded and stood.
"Esteemed shinobi and kunoichi," he began, "thank you for taking time from your duties to attend this meeting."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"As many of you may already be aware, today's discussion concerns the escalating prices of wartime supplies within the village."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
Many clan heads were already struggling beneath the growing burden of war.
Deploying fresh shinobi.Recalling the injured before the casualties became irreversible.Balancing finances so that a single campaign would not cripple an entire clan.
The pressure was mounting.
The Nara clan head's expression darkened.
More than most, he understood the strain.
As the one responsible for the Nara–Yamanaka–Akimichi alliance's logistics, he carried responsibility beyond his own clan. Medicine and medical supplies were manageable—the Nara controlled much of that trade.
Weapons, however, were another matter.
Kunai.Shuriken.Explosive tags.
Their prices had risen beyond reason.
He finally spoke.
"Elder Homura," he said, voice steady but tight, "if prices had doubled—or even tripled—I could understand. War always drives costs higher."
His gaze sharpened.
"But a twentyfold increase? That is not fluctuation. That is exploitation."
Murmurs spread through the chamber.
Many nodded in agreement.
They could endure hardship.
They could endure loss.
But this—
This was something else.
Danzo let out a quiet snort.
"You may thank the Uchiha clan for that," he said flatly.
The hall went still.
One by one, gazes turned.
All eyes settled on Fugaku.
The weight of their stares pressed down on him—sharp, accusing. For a brief moment, even Fugaku felt the tension.
He did not avert his gaze.
"We increased prices fivefold," Fugaku said calmly."No more."
A stir passed through the room.
"The cost of raw materials rose sharply," he continued. "Labour shortages worsened it. Even so, we did not increase prices beyond that."
He paused.
"When the village rejected renegotiation and pressure continued, we withdrew our supply."
His eyes hardened slightly.
"We allowed other merchants to sell instead."
Silence followed.
Not outrage.
Not relief.
Just the slow realisation that the situation was far more complicated than anyone had been led to believe.
Danzo leaned forward, his voice cutting through the hall.
"Then why," he said coldly, "did you not sell your remaining supplies to the village at reduced prices? Instead, you closed your shops outright."
His eye narrowed.
"Did you not consider how severely that would affect Konoha during wartime?"
Murmurs followed.
Several jōnin glanced toward the Uchiha seats.
Elder Kohaku rose slowly.
"Elder Danzo," he said evenly, "this matter was already discussed in a previous meeting—one you attended, with the Hokage present."
His gaze did not waver.
"We stated clearly that without price adjustment, the Cat Clan would be forced to halt production entirely. Continued forging without funds was impossible."
A pause.
"You insisted prices be reduced. We complied."
Kohaku's voice hardened slightly.
"Other merchants did not."
Danzo frowned.
"As for why we did not sell our remaining stock," Kohaku continued, "you know the reason better than anyone."
A few heads turned.
"But I will state it plainly," he said. "The Uchiha received no wartime funds. No supply support. Yet we were still required to deploy shinobi."
His cane tapped softly against the floor.
"So we recalled our stored supplies to equip our own forces."
He looked directly at Danzo.
"Tell me—what part of that is wrong?"
Danzo slammed his hand against the table.
"You're twisting the issue!" he barked. "Had you sold at lower prices, other merchants would have followed!"
His voice rose.
"This is nothing but retaliation—for refusing your demands!"
Before Kohaku could respond, another voice cut in.
Calm.
Unhurried.
"Are we playing a blame game now, Elder Danzo?"
Toyoma.
Every head in the chamber turned.
"If so," Toyoma continued evenly, "then I could just as easily say that if the higher-ups had provided the Uchiha with funds or supplies, none of this would have happened."
His eyes lifted.
"But instead, pressure was applied. Repeatedly. Relentlessly."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And now you're upset that pressure has consequences."
The hall went deathly still.
Koharu stood abruptly.
"Who allowed this brat into a jōnin meeting?" she snapped. "From the moment he entered, he has disrupted proceedings. He lacks etiquette—"
Toyoma turned to her calmly.
"I am a jōnin of the Uchiha clan," he said. "Why wouldn't I attend?"
Danzo let out a thin smile.
"Anyone can claim such things," he said mockingly. "A jōnin at your age? As a village elder, I doubt such a genius exists."
Eyes shifted.
Tension spiked.
Fugaku stood at once.
"Toyoma is indeed a jōnin," he said firmly. "He possesses the three-tomoe Sharingan, which—"
He stopped.
Because Toyoma spoke first.
"If the village elders valued villages' geniuses," Toyoma said calmly, "instead of pressing them toward exhaustion and death, you might notice more of them."
His gaze locked onto Danzo.
Then it shifted—slowly, deliberately.
"As we can see," Toyoma continued evenly, "qualification, ability, and vision no longer seem to matter when appointing elders."
He turned his head.
"Hokage."
Silence.
Pure silence.
No one spoke.
The words hung in the air like a blade already swung—its cut not yet felt.
Every gaze in the council hall snapped toward Toyoma.
Shock came first.Then disbelief.Then something far more dangerous.
Several jōnin stiffened in their seats, hands unconsciously tightening. Clan heads exchanged sharp, uneasy glances. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Elder Kohaku closed his eyes briefly.
Kazuto's expression hardened, his jaw locking as he stared straight ahead.
Fugaku's face drained of colour.
Across the chamber, the elders' expressions darkened—anger flashing openly now, eyes sharp enough to tear the boy apart if restraint failed.
Danzo's visible eye narrowed to a slit.
Koharu's lips pressed into a thin, furious line.
At the centre of it all—
Hiruzen Sarutobi remained still.
His pipe lay untouched.
His gaze rested on Toyoma—heavy, unreadable, carrying the full weight of the village.
The council hall held its breath.
Because everyone knew—
The next words spoken would decide whether this was merely insolence…
Or the beginning of something far more dangerous.