The five Kages sat in a tense semicircle, their gazes locked onto the imposing figure of the Raikage, A.
A smirk played at the corner of the Raikage's lips as he unfurled the scroll in his hands with a deliberate slowness, the sound of parchment rustling against calloused fingers filling the chamber. He spread it across the polished table in front of him, its surface reflecting the intricate symbols and seals inked onto the aged paper. With a single hand sign and a small cloud of smoke, he retrieved something from the scroll.
They were two small, gleaming silver spheres, each no larger than a marble, and held them up for all to see. The dim light of the room glinted off their metallic surfaces, casting faint reflections onto the surrounding faces.
The reaction was immediate.
The Kazekage'sface relaxed, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. The Mizukage's lips curled slightly, intrigued. Onoki simply shifted in his seat. And Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, remained still, his expression unreadable behind the thin veil of his hat.
Yet, it was not the Kages' reactions that mattered the most. It was Renjiro's.
The moment he laid eyes on the silver spheres, his breath hitched.
'Chakra metal.'
His mind raced, the implications striking him like a kunai to the chest. He had encountered chakra metal before—highly conductive, capable of retaining chakra as well as its signatures for an extended period. And if the Raikage was presenting these spheres in such a manner, then there was only one conclusion—they contained the lingering traces of the chakra he had used during his fight with the Two-Tails Jinchūriki.
Cold unease slithered down his spine.
His hands remained still on his back almost curling into tight fists. 'If they've managed to extract my chakra signature from the battlefield… then this could directly incriminate me. Not just me—Konoha.'
His mind was a whirlwind, a storm of calculations and possibilities.
'How much chakra remains in those spheres? How accurate is the analysis? Can Hiruzen spin this? Can I?'
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain a mask of calm. He was an ANBU shinobi. He could not afford to let his emotions betray him.
Stealing a glance at the Hokage seated beside him, Renjiro expected at least a flicker of concern. But what he saw instead left him momentarily stunned.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat there, composed as ever, the barest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. His ageing fingers rested lightly on his staff, his eyes sharp yet calm, as if this entire ordeal was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
Renjiro had served under the man for a couple of years, had observed him carefully, and knew one thing for certain—this was a man who already had a counterattack prepared.
He At least hoped so.
The Raikage's deep, resonant voice shattered the silence.
"These two spheres," A began, his tone measured but forceful, "are made of chakra metal. As you all know, chakra metal is one of the best conductors of chakra and retains the signature of whoever channels energy into it. These particular ones were found at the scene where my Jinchūriki was attacked and killed."
A heavy pause followed.
Onoki exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. "And? You act as if we don't know how chakra metal works, Raikage. What exactly are you trying to prove here?"
A ignored the interruption, his large fingers tightening around the spheres for emphasis. "The chakra within these is unmistakable—it belongs to none other than Renjiro Uzumaki, of Konoha."
A ripple of reaction passed through the room.
Minato Namikaze, standing on Hiruzen's right, stiffened slightly, his normally relaxed expression darkening for the briefest moment. Renjiro, despite his controlled posture, could feel the weight of several gazes now directed at him.
The Raikage let the words settle before extending his hand and placing the spheres onto the table before Tadashi, the neutral arbiter of this summit.
"This," A continued, "is undeniable proof. Proof that it was your shinobi, Hokage, who killed our Jinchūriki."
The accusation hung in the air, heavy and damning.
"Hmph," the Onoki scoffed, the sound barely more than a breath but heavy with disdain. "And yet, what proof do we have that your Jinchūriki is even dead?" His gaze flicked to the silver spheres, then back to A. "For all we know, you could be fabricating this entire story to justify your aggression."
"Frankly," he continued, his tone laced with challenge, "I find it very difficult to believe that this boy—" he jerked his chin toward Renjiro, "—impressive chakra aside, could go toe-to-toe with a Jinchūriki and not only survive but outright kill them." His lips curled into something akin to a smirk, though his voice remained dry and cutting. "And yet, you expect us to take your word for it?"
A's expression darkened, the veins along his temple bulging as his powerful hands curled into fists. His temper was infamous, and Onoki's words were expertly designed to provoke it.
"You expect me," A said, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder, "to parade a corpse before you like some kind of spectacle?" His broad shoulders squared, his towering presence making even the sturdy stone table between them seem like a fragile thing. "My Jinchūriki's body deserves respect, not desecration."
"Ah," Hiroshi murmured, "but that presents quite the dilemma, doesn't it?" His fingers tapped idly against the table, the sound eerily rhythmic. "You claim your Jinchūriki was killed, and yet you refuse to provide evidence." His smirk widened, a glint of enjoyment in his eyes as he studied the Raikage's tightening jaw.
"And even if the boy did manage to kill your Jinchūriki," he continued, his tone deliberately casual, "why didn't he take the body with him? From the way you speak of him, he certainly had the strength to do so—especially since your forces didn't even manage to capture him."
A low murmur rippled through the room, the weight of Hiroshi's words pressing against the Raikage like a vice. The underlying implication was clear—if Renjiro was truly so dangerous, then Kumogakure had proven itself too weak to detain him.
The insult landed like a kunai to the gut.
"Mind your tongue, Mizukage," A growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I'll remove it for you."
The Mizukage merely chuckled, unfazed by the Raikage's barely restrained fury. He leaned back in his seat, tilting his head ever so slightly as though to appraise the man before him. "Touchy, aren't we?" he mused. "But then again, I suppose I would be too if my village's credibility was being shredded in front of the entire summit."
A's knuckles turned white. For a moment, it looked as if he might snap the table in half.
And then, another voice cut through the tension.
"Kumogakure," The Hokage mused his voice light but edged with something far sharper. "The same village that once attempted to kidnap my Jinchūriki, Kushina Uzumaki a few years ago… and failed."
Silence.
The Raikage's eyes snapped to Hiruzen, but the man continued as if he hadn't noticed the burning glare aimed his way.
"And yet," Hiruzen went on, "we did not manipulate summits to serve our own interests. We did not make baseless accusations, nor did we cry foul when our shinobi thwarted your ambitions." His lips curled slightly, though it was a smile without warmth. "Destroying Uzushiogakure wasn't enough for you, was it? Now, you resort to framing one of its few survivors after failing to kidnap the other?"
The chamber fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
For a moment, the air itself seemed to still.
The destruction of Uzushiogakure had been a shared crime—a dark, unspoken sin that each of the major villages had played a part in. And now, Hiruzen had forced them all to remember.
The Raikage's scowl deepened, but rather than refute the words, he saw an opportunity to press his own narrative further.
"This," A said, his deep voice cutting through the tension, "only proves my case." His eyes swept over the other Kages, reading their reactions. "Konoha is taking revenge. Only this time, they didn't attempt to kidnap a Jinchūriki—they killed one."
His gaze locked onto Renjiro for a brief second before shifting back to Hiruzen.
"And you," A added, voice thick with accusation, "are using the boy to serve your agenda against the other villages."
It was a dangerous statement, meant to plant seeds of doubt, to make the others wonder: If Renjiro truly did this, how long before his grudge turns toward them?
And the most unsettling part?
The Raikage wasn't entirely wrong.
There would come a day when the Kages would regret leaving Renjiro alive.
Hiruzen, however, remained utterly unfazed. He let out a small, almost amused chuckle.
"And yet," he said, "you have been the one behind the boy's bounty increasing so drastically over the years." His sharp eyes locked onto the Raikage. "You saw an opportunity to finish him, and now you're trying to disguise it as justice."
The accusation struck true, and for a brief moment, the Raikage's lips parted as if to respond—but before he could, Tadashi, the mediator, raised a hand.
"Enough." His voice was firm forcing the escalating tension to a halt. "Let us test the proof. Hokage-done, allow your shinobi to step forward."
Hiruzen turned to Renjiro, his expression calm, unreadable. Then, he gave a single nod.
Renjiro exhaled slowly before rising from his seat. The weight of the room pressed down on him like an unseen force, but he kept his steps measured, and controlled.
Tadashi held out one of the silver spheres. "Channel your chakra into it."
Renjiro reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. The surface was smooth and unyielding.
The moment of truth had arrived.
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