Grand Elder Setsuna heard the Hokage's words—"Root will be dissolved"—and for the first time in days, something close to excitement stirred in his chest.
To him, the meaning was clear.
The shadow watching the Uchiha would weaken.
The constant surveillance.
The unseen knives.
The pressure that never eased.
All of it would lessen now.
Around him, many Uchiha felt the same quiet relief.
Several clan heads exchanged subtle glances.
For them, this was the end.
The answer had been given.
Authority had bent.
The crisis, at last, seemed resolved.
They believed the storm had passed.
Toyoma did not.
His expression remained unchanged.
No relief.
No satisfaction.
No victory.
He stood where he had been moments ago, eyes steady, posture unmoved—watching Hiruzen Sarutobi with the same calm intensity as before.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
"So basically," Toyoma said, his voice level and emotionless, "you are saying this was a mistake of Root."
The street quieted again.
"And now," he continued, "it will be dissolved."
He paused.
Not for effect.
But because he was choosing his next words carefully.
"We didn't come here to learn which organisation made a mistake," Toyoma said.
His eyes narrowed—just slightly.
"We came here for the culprit."
He took one step forward.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi," Toyoma said calmly, "who gave the order?"
The weight returned instantly.
"What we want," Toyoma continued, "is accountability."
The silence that followed was sharper than before.
Because everyone understood what he was saying.
Root was not a hand.
It was a tool.
And tools did not act on their own.
Toyoma's gaze did not leave Hiruzen.
"You ended an organisation," he said quietly. "Now answer for the man behind it."
"The person who is responsible."
Toyoma's words settled heavily into the street.
Around him, the reaction was immediate—subtle, but unmistakable.
One by one, the clan heads stiffened.
They knew.
Everyone of them knew who bore responsibility.
And that was precisely the problem.
To demand accountability from a shadow organisation was acceptable.
To dissolve Root was painful for an elder—but survivable.
But to punish an elder of the village, openly, in front of civilians?
That crossed an invisible line.
Several clan heads exchanged uneasy glances.
Others looked away, their silence thick with discomfort.
This was no longer about justice.
This was about precedent.
Hiruzen stared at Toyoma from the moment the words left his mouth.
He did not interrupt.
He did not react outwardly.
But inside, his assessment sharpened.
This boy did not care about the bigger picture.
He did not weigh alliances, stability, or long-term balance.
He cared only for his clan.
And that made him dangerous.
Not reckless.
Not emotional.
Focused.
He will never compromise, Hiruzen realised grimly. And one day, that will put Konoha itself at risk.
At that moment, Hiruzen understood something clearly.
This was not a crisis that would fade with time.
Toyoma would grow.
And when he did, he would not forget.
Danzo had thought the worst was over.
The dissolution of Root had already been a heavy blow—one he had not anticipated, one he would need time to recover from.
For a brief moment, he believed he could endure it.
Then Toyoma spoke again.
And Danzo felt it immediately.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
Root had been the shield.
Now the blade was turning.
He's not satisfied, Danzo realised coldly.
The boy wasn't attacking organisations.
He was hunting responsibility.
And Danzo knew exactly where that trail ended.
Shikaku Nara stepped forward again.
His voice was calm, but there was a strain beneath it now—calculation under pressure.
"Toyoma," Shikaku said evenly, meeting his gaze, "we believe this is more than enough."
Toyoma turned his eyes toward him.
"The dissolution of Root," Shikaku continued, "is a severe consequence. It addresses the village's failure and removes the mechanism that caused the harm."
Several clan heads nodded slightly.
This was the line they wanted.
"This," Shikaku said carefully, "is an answer to the Uchiha."
The words hung in the air.
An offer.
A boundary.
A request for the matter to end here.
Toyoma did not respond immediately.
He simply looked at Shikaku—quiet, unreadable, unyielding.
And in that silence, everyone understood the truth.
The village wanted closure.
Toyoma wanted accountability.
And those two things were no longer the same.
Toyoma exhaled slowly.
Not in frustration.
Not in defeat.
But as if releasing tension he had been deliberately holding.
His shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
The change was subtle—but everyone noticed it.
Across the street, murmurs stirred again.Several villagers exchanged glances.A few clan heads loosened their rigid posture.
They misunderstood.
To them, it looked like a concession.
Agreement.
An end.
Toyoma lifted his gaze to Shikaku.
"Alright, Nara clan head," he said calmly. "Let's speak more gently."
His tone softened—measured, controlled.
"So this tense mood can lessen," Toyoma continued, "and everyone here can clearly understand what I am actually worried about."
Shikaku listened carefully.
Then nodded.
He wanted this to end.
No—he needed this to end before it crossed a line that could not be walked back.
If we can resolve this here…If we can end it without naming names…That would be best.
Toyoma turned his gaze—not to the crowd, but to Hiruzen.
"The problem," Toyoma said evenly, "is not that Root, ANBU, or any clan entered another clan's territory."
A ripple passed through the listeners.
"Infiltration itself is not new," he continued. "All of you have done it. All of you understand why it happens."
His eyes moved across the assembled clan heads.
"The problem," Toyoma said, "is infiltration and attack inside the same village—against one of the village's own clans—without reason or consent."
"This is clear targeting," he continued calmly, "treating a clan as if it were an enemy."
He paused.
"You all have things your clans depend on," Toyoma went on. "Jutsu. Techniques. Knowledge."
"Things you want to keep secret," he added, "not because you are greedy—but because those things are your lifeline."
Silence deepened.
Toyoma turned slightly.
His gaze settled on the Yamanaka.
"Inoichi, clan head," he said.
The Yamanaka clan head stiffened.
"Am I correct?" Toyoma asked. "You want to protect the Yamanaka's secret jutsu—the Mind Transfer Technique."
All eyes shifted.
Inoichi hesitated.
Then nodded.
Of course, it's our lifeline.
"Yes," Inoichi said aloud. "Our secret jutsu is the foundation of our clan."
Toyoma inclined his head slightly.
"Good," he said.
Then his gaze swept across the other clan heads.
"Now," Toyoma continued calmly, "imagine this."
The street felt colder.
"I send my guard-force shinobi into your compound," Toyoma said, "to steal that secret jutsu."
A few sharp breaths were drawn.
"You question us," Toyoma went on. "And we answer by saying—"
His voice remained steady.
"'That shinobi acted alone.'"
"'We will dismiss him.'"
"'The matter is settled.'"
Toyoma looked directly at Inoichi again.
Then at Shikaku.
Then at the others.
"Tell me," Toyoma asked quietly, "would you accept that?"
No one answered.
Because they already knew.
And in that silence, Toyoma's point landed harder than any threat he had made before.
Shikaku looked at Toyoma carefully.
"Toyoma," he said, choosing his words with care, "it may have been an accident. The village higher-ups understand the importance of each clan's secret jutsu."
Toyoma's gaze did not soften.
"That's exactly the point, Shikaku, Nara clan head," he replied calmly.
"We don't know the reason for the infiltration into our clan."
His voice remained steady, but the words cut deep.
"Whether it was for stealing secret jutsu," Toyoma continued, "or for bloodline theft."
A pause.
"Or," he added quietly, "for human experimentation."
The word landed like a blade.
Horror rippled through the crowd.
Several villagers stiffened.
Clan heads exchanged sharp, uneasy looks.
That was a taboo.
A line no one spoke of openly.
Koharu turned toward Toyoma, her face pale with disbelief and anger.
"This is a serious accusation, boy," she said sharply. "Do you truly believe the village leadership would do something like that?"
Toyoma looked at her directly.
"Koharu-elder," he said evenly, "this has happened before."
The street went deathly still.
"You people did this to the Senju," Toyoma continued. "Everyone standing here knows it."
Murmurs broke out despite attempts to suppress them.
"The attack this time," Toyoma said, "was on a child of a bloodline clan."
His eyes hardened.
"Do you really believe that the words of the village higher-ups still carry credibility?"
Silence answered him.
Shikaku felt a chill settle in his chest.
It… is possible, he realised grimly.
His gaze shifted briefly to the Hyūga clan head.
Hiashi Hyūga's expression had tightened.
The implications were impossible to ignore.
Bloodline theft.
Human experimentation.
Looking at the barely restrained fury among the Uchiha, Hiashi understood one thing clearly—
This was not going to end easily.
His eyes moved.
To Danzo.
Danzo's face had grown darker.
Rigid.
Closed.
One by one, other clan heads noticed it as well.
And as they did, their unease deepened.
Hiruzen followed their gazes.
He looked at Danzo.
He did not know why Danzo had sent a shinobi into the Uchiha compound.
But he knew something else now.
Whatever the original intent had been—
The damage had already spread far beyond repair.
Shikaku exhaled slowly.
Then he looked back at Toyoma.
The boy was staring at him—calm, unwavering, waiting.
Shikaku nodded once.
He understood immediately what Toyoma was demanding.
With a tired sigh, he turned toward the Hokage.
"Third Hokage," Shikaku said evenly, "you need to clearly explain the reason behind Root's infiltration of the Uchiha."
His voice hardened.
"This is no longer just a Uchiha problem."
"It is a problem for every clan in the village."
****** 200 power stone one extra chapter *****