All eyes slowly turned toward Fugaku Uchiha.
The clan head sat in his designated section, flanked by his wife Mikoto and a few senior Uchiha representatives. His posture was relaxed, his expression composed, his dark eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. He had not reacted visibly to Renjiro's revelation—had not flinched, had not shifted, had not given any indication that the words had affected him at all.
The council chamber expected outrage. Disappointment. Irritation. At the very least, a tightening of the jaw or a narrowing of the eyes. But Fugaku gave them nothing. His face was a perfect mask of calm authority, revealing nothing of the thoughts that churned beneath.
They're watching me, Fugaku thought, acutely aware of the dozens of eyes now fixed on his face. They want to see me crack. They want to see division within the Uchiha exposed publicly. They want to use my reaction as ammunition against the clan.
I will not give them the satisfaction.
He kept his posture calm, his expression neutral, his breathing steady. He had been a clan head for a while now, had navigated the treacherous currents of village politics, and had learned to hide his emotions behind a wall of composed dignity. This was no different.
Renjiro made his choice, Fugaku acknowledged silently. I cannot change it. I can only control how the clan responds.
He thought of the conversations they had had—the arguments, the accusations, the moments when trust had frayed and broken. He had pushed Renjiro, had tested him, had expected loyalty that Renjiro had not been willing to give.
And now, the boy—no, the man—had made his withdrawal public, had severed the ties that bound him to the Uchiha name.
I regret how things have deteriorated, Fugaku admitted to himself. But I cannot show that regret here. Not now. Not in front of the council.
He thought of the future—of the influence Renjiro would wield as Jonin Commander, of the power he would command, of the alliances he would build. Renjiro was no longer a subordinate, no longer a clan member to be directed and guided. He was a political force in his own right, and Fugaku had alienated him.
That may have been a mistake, Fugaku acknowledged. A costly one.
But pride—the particular, stubborn pride of the Uchiha—prevented him from dwelling on it too openly. He was the clan head. He could not second-guess himself before the council.
He could not show weakness. He continued to sit in silence, his face unreadable, his thoughts hidden.
Renjiro felt the familiar prickling sensation on his skin—the unmistakable awareness of hostile attention, of eyes that wished him harm. He did not need to look to know who it was. The glare was too sharp, too personal, too filled with the particular bitterness of betrayal.
He turned his head slightly and met Nakada's eyes.
She was seated beside her brother, her posture rigid, her hands clenched in her lap.
She clearly viewed Renjiro's withdrawal from the clan as betrayal. As abandonment. As a rejection of everything the Uchiha had done for him, everything they had given him, everything they had sacrificed.
She doesn't understand, Renjiro thought. She never did.
He dismissed her glare almost immediately, turning his attention back to the front of the chamber. There was no point in engaging with her anger, no benefit in responding to her hostility.
But for a moment—just a moment—his eyes met Fugaku's across the chamber.
Neither acknowledged the other. There was no nod, no expression, no hostility. Just mutual silence—the particular stillness of two men who had once been allies and were now strangers. Then, simultaneously, both looked away.
The distance between them felt final. Political. Irreconcilable.
It's done, Renjiro thought. The ties are cut. There's no going back.
Minato raised his voice slightly, "Order. Order, please."
The Hokage's authority was absolute, and the council members subsided, their conversations dying, their attention returning to the front of the room.
"Shimura Yōahi," Minato said, turning to the representative who had asked the favouritism question. "Do you have any further questions for the candidate?"
Yōahi's face was pale, his expression carefully controlled. He had asked the question, expecting to trap Renjiro, to force him into a defensive position, to expose his ties to the Uchiha as a weakness. Instead, Renjiro had turned the trap into a declaration, had used the question to announce his withdrawal, and had shifted the political landscape beneath Yōahi's feet.
"No, Hokage-sama," Yōahi said, his voice tight. "I have no further questions."
He returned to his seat, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the table before him.
Minato surveyed the chamber.
"Are there any other questions for the candidate?"
Silence.
People looked around cautiously, but no one spoke. The difficult political attacks had failed. Renjiro's calm handling of the questioning, his measured answers, his unexpected revelation—all of it had shifted the atmosphere heavily in his favour. The momentum was with him now, and the council members, ever sensitive to the currents of power, recognized that further opposition would be futile.
"Then we will proceed to the voting phase," Minato announced.
He paused, and a slight smile tugged at his lips—the particular expression of someone who was about to make a joke that might not land.
"Despite Renjiro running unopposed, voting must still occur. A considerable amount of preparation went into arranging this meeting, after all."
The joke was dry, awkward, and delivered with the timing of a man who was more comfortable on the battlefield than in front of a political audience. A few people chuckled politely—because he was the Hokage, because it was expected, because the tension needed to be broken.
Renjiro's lips twitched, but he did not laugh.
Minato formally explained the voting conditions.
"Council members may vote in favour of Renjiro Uzumaki, or against Renjiro Uzumaki. There are no other options on the ballot."
He let the words settle.
"If Renjiro receives a majority in favour, he will officially become Jonin Commander. If he fails to gain majority support, the selection process will be postponed, and we will reconvene at a later date to consider alternative candidates."
Renjiro listened, his expression neutral, but internally, he was mildly amused by the simplicity of the process.
No ranked choices. No write-ins. Just yes or no.
He understood the logic behind it. Even uncontested leadership positions still required legitimacy. The village could not afford a Jonin Commander without broad support among the shinobi structure.
The voting process began.
Ballots—small slips of parchment marked with the candidate's name—were distributed to each council member. The chamber grew quieter, more serious, as the representatives marked their choices. Some wrote quickly, decisively. Others hesitated, their brushes hovering over the paper, their minds still weighing options.
One by one, they deposited their ballots into a sealed box at the front of the chamber. The sound of paper sliding into the slot—shhh, shhh, shhh—was the only noise in the room.
Minato oversaw the process personally, his blue eyes tracking each voter, his expression conveying nothing.
The counting phase began.
The tension in the chamber, which had eased slightly during the voting, returned in full force. Council members shifted in their seats, exchanged glances, and whispered to their neighbours. Some watched the counting table with barely concealed anxiety. Others stared at Renjiro, trying to read his reaction.
Fugaku remained unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. He did not watch the counting, did not fidget, did not give any indication that he cared about the outcome.
He's already accepted it, Renjiro thought. He knows the result. He's just waiting for the formality to end.
Shikaku appeared relaxed, his arms crossed, his eyes half-closed. He had been involved in the political manoeuvring that had cleared the path for Renjiro's nomination, and he already expected the outcome.
He's not worried. Neither am I.
But Renjiro's heart beat a little faster, despite his calm. The counting seemed to take forever—minutes that stretched into eternities, each ballot read aloud, each vote recorded, each tally marked.
Finally, the counting was complete.
Minato received the final tally from the election officials. He reviewed it briefly, his expression unchanged, then turned to face the chamber.
The room held its breath.
"The votes have been counted," Minato said, his voice carrying through the silence. "Renjiro Uzumaki has received a majority in favor."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
"Therefore, by the authority vested in me as Hokage, and by the will of this council, I declare Renjiro Uzumaki the next Jonin Commander of Konohagakure."
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