Danzo: Let me have a taste of it first.

The night was clear, the bright moon hung high in the sky.

In the Hokage’s office, yet another meeting was about to commence.

There was hardly any change in attendance: the Hokage’s council of advisors, the various clan heads, and the two Sannin whose reputations outshone their actual influence within the village.

However, compared to the previous gathering, the atmosphere this time was noticeably lighter. Most suspicions against the Uchiha following the Nine-Tails’ attack had been dispelled, and the aggressive assault from the Cloud Village had been repelled. Now, with neither internal strife nor external threats, the village could look forward to a long period of peace.

Some clan heads who arrived early even found time for casual conversation before the meeting began, drifting from the topic of training their children to business collaborations, each sharing their views.

Of course, the person mentioned most was Orochimaru, who had shone brilliantly in the battle against Cloud—along with the Uchiha.

Orochimaru had yet to arrive, so naturally, the conversation turned toward Fugaku Uchiha, who was present.

Now and then, some clan heads cast complex glances at Fugaku—some with admiration, others with respect, and still others with a look reserved for the hopelessly naïve.

After all, Mangekyō Sharingan was no ordinary power—Hashirama’s very rival had wielded the same.

For Shisui to possess such strength at a young age, his potential was limitless—was it truly worth sacrificing him, even to clear the Uchiha’s name?

Even considering the desire to dispel suspicion, the price seemed far too high.

Everyone harbored their own thoughts, but on one point, consensus had been reached: that night, the one who controlled the Nine-Tails was not an Uchiha from the village—or at the very least, it was a lone act, not a clan conspiracy.

That was something.

The Uchiha, targeted and mistrusted after the Nine-Tails’ rampage, had felt wronged. Yet the ninja who suspected them had not relished their doubts either; none wished to live in suspicion of their comrades.

Enemies should be eliminated. Comrades should support one another. Uncertainty between friend and foe was the most unbearable of all.

On the battlefield, there was no room for overthinking—simple, clear lines provided comfort and were more readily embraced by those who daily walked the razor’s edge between life and death.

Of course, within the village, when everyone had the leisure, not a single advantage would be surrendered without a struggle.

Fugaku understood this well, but for him and the Uchiha, their current situation was more than satisfactory.

To be treated as equals—the Uchiha clan had entered a new chapter in Konoha’s history.

At this thought, Fugaku, who had worn a stern face throughout, allowed himself a reserved smile.

After the Senju clan disbanded following the founding of the village, who among the remaining clans could truly rival the Uchiha on equal footing?

The Hyūga? Mere watchdogs at the gates—did they truly believe they could compare to the Sharingan?

Moreover…

Fugaku’s gaze shifted to an empty seat at the end of the long table. His hand drifted toward the scroll at his waist.

He could hardly wait to spend his money.

A sudden sound—

The door was thrown open, and in strode the person Fugaku had awaited, a familiar smile on his face.

“Sorry for being late,” Orochimaru said, settling without hurry into the seat of honor to the Hokage’s left and greeting Jiraiya with a look of interest.

He was indeed late—though not for this meeting.

By custom, before the grand assembly with all the clan heads, there was a smaller, private gathering for the Hokage’s inner circle—a chance for the advisory council to preview the measures soon to be enacted. Attendance was limited, perhaps with Jiraiya included.

Last time, Orochimaru hadn’t been invited; this time, he was, but had chosen not to attend.

He could easily guess their intentions in calling him—since he would refuse, why waste time with tedious politeness?

Though disputes were inevitable, leaving them waiting and curbing their arrogance was, in his eyes, a fine thing.

Still, because he would need something from the old man later on, Orochimaru did not simply and bluntly refuse the summons, even after his triumph against Cloud. Instead, he offered a fitting excuse, saving face for the Hokage.

—Anko, his disciple, had fallen unconscious due to a mishap in her training.

Whether true or not was irrelevant; what mattered was the gesture of providing a reason. And as it happened, Anko’s condition had been confirmed by the ANBU—she truly was comatose.

With that, the Third Hokage had nothing more to say.

Although Konoha fostered the attitude, “my student is my student, but my student’s student is none of my concern,” the fact remained that Anko was, in a way, the Third’s own disciple’s pupil. He could hardly press further, and thus tacitly accepted Orochimaru’s demurral.

With Orochimaru now seated, the meeting officially began, and all present straightened, their earlier ease vanishing.

The task of outlining Konoha’s future strategies once again fell to Danzo.

His thoughts were always clear; unable to become Hokage for the moment, he took pleasure in these opportunities to assert himself.

No one dared underestimate Danzo, especially after the recent war with Cloud, when he had led the Root to secure Konoha’s outposts near the Land of Earth, deterring Iwagakure from taking advantage—no small feat.

As soon as he began to speak, the room fell silent, the only sound his deep, raspy voice.

The meeting’s content was a continuation of the last—apart from the Uchiha being allowed to repair their compound in place and not needing to relocate, little else had changed.

Still, Danzo went over everything again with relish, making what should have been a brief meeting stretch on, until the moon climbed high in the sky before it concluded.

The departing clan heads grumbled inwardly, but outwardly held their peace.

It was not only out of caution toward Danzo, but because, with peace in Konoha, such trivial matters were not worth quarreling over.

Gradually, they filed out, leaving only six people in the vast Hokage’s office.

Now, the true meeting began.

“Well, well… Why are you all looking at me?” Orochimaru swept his gaze around the room, then, as he had throughout the meeting, turned back to study Jiraiya at his side.

If his guess was correct, Jiraiya had already trained in the breathing techniques, perhaps even achieved tangible results.

Tsk, tsk, tsk… How vexing.

Orochimaru licked his lips. At present, without the Djinn’s intervention, he still could not enter the marked state at will.

Yet Jiraiya, who had begun training later, had surpassed him.

Orochimaru knew well that Jiraiya had long since mastered Sage Arts and possessed a deep foundation, but he could not help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Seeing Orochimaru’s indifference, Koharu Utatane furrowed her brow and snapped, “Orochimaru, stop pretending. You know perfectly well why we’ve kept you here!”

“In the end, it’s all about Shisui’s Mangekyō Sharingan.”

Orochimaru smiled, drew a small nutrient tank from his scroll, and set it crisply on the table.

“My esteemed elders, here—do as you wish. I will not interfere.”

“On the contrary, I will even proclaim your deeds throughout Konoha.”