The first to arrive were Sarutobi Hiruzen in his Hokage robes and Shimura Danzō with half his head bandaged. Danzō had run so hard he'd forgotten his cane.
Both men stared at Mo Ke like he was a disaster front rolling in across the plains. Faces taut. No one moved first.
They blinked when they took in his age a face sixteen, maybe seventeen, and yet that suffocating pressure. Since when had a monster that young slipped into Konoha without a whisper?
Shff, shff, shff more arrived in flickers of leaves and snow.
Hyuga Hiashi came tight-faced, and by his side the mirror image with a protector's forehead guard: Hizashi. A green vest, square jaw, lips drawn down, Uchiha Fugaku; at his shoulder a button-nosed teen whose eyes watched everything, Shisui.
The clan heads of Ino–Shika–Cho. A white-haired dead-fish gaze under a hitai-ate tilted wrong, Hatake Kakashi. He had squandered a few years but the steel underneath was back; an elite jōnin's edge hummed off him. Maito Guy didn't make it sensory dull as a brick, no doubt.
That was basically it: everyone at elite jōnin and above who could move fast, plus exactly two promising youths Kakashi and Shisui. The rest were either Root and wouldn't twitch without Danzō's say-so, or needed to sit a post inside the village, like the Hyuga great elder.
And there were the ones who watched with knives behind their teeth, Uchiha Kurama-types who would happily see an enemy blow the council's brains across the snow.
All told, Konoha looked like winter trees. Bare. Withered.
Hiashi spoke first. He hadn't given up on Hinata yet, and the scene screamed Hyuga involvement. Pride and panic cut through protocol.
"May I ask your name, sir. Why do you hold my daughter. With your strength this lack of decorum ill befits a true strong one."
He was stern, but careful. He feared provoking a storm that would swallow Hinata whole.
Hiruzen and Danzō said nothing. To them, the boy with red hair and red eyes was a bottomless well. Even Tobirama had never felt like this. Only two figures in memory carried such weight: Hashirama. Madara.
Not that Mo Ke matched those legends, but he stood far above the kage line. If Hiruzen were in his prime, he would have stepped forward, pipe between teeth and fate between fingers. Now? He felt the swallow of time in his bones.
Let the Hyuga patriarch test the current first, both leaders thought. And besides, even a glance told you this mess began with Hyuga.
Mo Ke smiled softly and looked down to the girl at his side.
"Oh, Patriarch Hyuga, what a thing to say. Holding her. I'm chatting with Hinata. Quite happily."
Every gaze shifted to the child. Hinata turned a color close to her scarf. Mo Ke worried for a heartbeat she would faint.
But she was steel wrapped in silk. She lifted her head and nodded, then turned to her father with a whisper like falling snow.
"Father, this big brother didn't hurt me. It was Uzumaki Naruto, the boy over there. He drove away the bad kids and Elder Atsushi struck him by mistake. Big brother only moved to protect him."
Smart child. Shy or not, she caught the clashes in the air and laid out the bones of it. Her voice was faint, but everyone here could hear through storms.
A breath loosened in every chest. A misunderstanding then. The air warmed half a degree.
Only now did Hiruzen spot Naruto crumpled near the tree. His brows snapped. He carved a look into Kakashi's side.
Kakashi was ANBU captain. Hiruzen had assigned him to shadow Naruto. But after Minato's death, the boy's grief had grown into an old man's silence. Too often he drifted. And while he drifted, a jōnin's kick found the jinchūriki's ribs.
"Since it is a misunderstanding," Hiashi pressed on, "might sir show mercy. Hyuga Atsushi erred, but panic for my daughter's safety drove him. Once home I will punish him severely. Only his state is poor."
It had not improved. Atsushi's eyes had rolled white and stayed there. He was a breath from passing out, held up by the last plank of his faith in a fading boast: Hyuga are Konoha's greatest clan.
Only the name still glittered.
Mo Ke ignored the plea. Nice try. That kick on an ordinary three-year-old would have ended with a funeral or a month of bed. You don't judge by the lucky outcome and call it good. Stab a man and happen to hit his appendix should he bring you flowers.
He kept just enough crimson pressure on Atsushi to dig pain in under the ribs without letting him black out the simmering boil of justice. Then he lifted his gaze and spoke to the village gathered.
"My name is Uzumaki Mo Ke. I am of the Uzumaki clan. I was Kushina's childhood friend. Before she died she left a secret trust with me to watch over Naruto. I've watched these years. And I am… dissatisfied with Konoha."
Brows tightened. Red hair had already suggested it; the name made it clean. They were startled at the power on such a young face, but it fit a pattern older shinobi knew by heart. Even Shisui knew Kushina by war-camp whispers the Hokage's wife who laughed like a bell and hit like a hurricane.
"Impossible." Danzō snapped, quicker than anyone. "The Uzumaki do not bear red eyes. Your age doesn't match Kushina's story. And you claim you watched Naruto all this time. Under ANBU guard? I will concede you could slip a net for a night. But to live inside Konoha for years without a trace absurd."
Mo Ke's eyes curved with interest. The Shade of the Shinobi World. Always start with doubt. Always hunt the angle.
Cute. And who asked you.
A black-red spark flicked across his irises.
Crimson weight fell on Danzō alone. A clamp from sky to earth. An S-rank aura spiked by king's will and honed by spirit. Even an…" caught flat-footed had no counter. Danzō folded. Hands, knees, face, all in snow. The shock of impact cracked the ground in spiderweb lines and blew powder up in a white halo.
Everyone jerked back, hands up, stances set. Eyes fixed on Mo Ke, waiting for the next axe.
Mo Ke only watched as Danzō trembled, fascinated as one is by an insect pinned. The hybrid force of his crimson mode spiritual pressure braided with Conqueror's Haki was built for this. A higher life-form stepping on a lower rung.
One-on-one, sudden and precise, it could dump even a kage onto his belly.
In the art of crushing by presence alone, perhaps only Kaguya's Byakugan could meet him eye to eye.
Of course, it might also be that this particular kage had rusted. Years out of the field. And this was the man who tried to poke Susanoo with a kunai.
______________________________
If you're enjoying this story and want to read more advanced chapters, you can support me on Patreon: patreon.com/PurgatorialPoet. Your support helps keep the translations coming faster.