Chapter 135: The 'Scattered'in'Scattered Ashes'
The morning air carried the crisp, clean scent of petrichor. After the heavy rain, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling streets of Konoha. Villagers went about their daily routines, sliding open the wooden doors of their shops and sweeping the damp cobblestones.
Despite the recent armed intrusion into the heart of the village, the atmosphere remained remarkably serene. There was no lingering panic, no hushed whispers of fear in the alleys. The citizens held an unshakable, blind faith in their Fourth Hokage. As long as she sat in that office, they believed the sky itself could fall and she would simply catch it. They only needed to live their lives peacefully under her absolute protection.
However, behind the scenes, the aftermath of the 'Jia' incident had ballooned into a massive headache. Since the attackers had launched their assault from within the village walls, the Anbu had ruthlessly investigated every layer of security. They tracked the infiltration route backward, step by grueling step, until the trail ended squarely at the feet of Hyuga Gen.
Under normal circumstances, enemy spies slipping into the village was an occupational hazard. Disguises were often flawless, and no gate guard could be expected to catch every single anomaly. If Gen had simply failed to notice them at the gate, he would have received a standard reprimand for poor performance. A docked paycheck, perhaps a few extra night shifts. Nothing catastrophic.
The fatal problem was that he had actually noticed something wrong. He had spotted the anomalies, followed protocol, and written a detailed incident report.
And then he had completely forgotten to submit it.
The vital intelligence had been left buried under a mountain of mundane requisition forms on his desk, only to be unearthed days later by a highly unamused Anbu investigator.
How could one single man possess such a terrifying, supernatural talent for causing disasters?
Inside the Hokage's office, the Hyuga Clan Head knelt rigidly on the polished hardwood floor. He stared blankly ahead, entirely convinced that the prestigious Hyuga bloodline was going to end today.
This was the same idiot who had gone out on a routine mission and somehow nearly gotten an elite Anbu Captain killed. That previous fiasco had forced the Hokage to use a dangerous forbidden technique to save him, landing her in the hospital for over two months. The village Advisors had practically foamed at the mouth, demanding the Hyuga clan be humanely eradicated for their sheer incompetence.
To save their own skins, the clan leadership had exiled Gen to District One. They placed him as far away from the center of political power as physically possible, hoping he would just quietly guard a gate and fade into obscurity.
Yet, defying all laws of probability, Gen had let a minor security hiccup in the New District escalate into a full-blown assault on the Hokage Building. He had nearly dragged the Fourth Hokage's pristine reputation through the mud. The village high command was currently sharpening their knives, ready to carve the Hyuga clan into pieces.
The Clan Head had already accepted his bitter fate. They had stopped trying to squeeze into the inner circle of Konoha's politics. The Hokage clearly had no interest in playing power games with them anyway. But the fact remained: Gen could be assigned to watch a literal pile of dirt, and he would somehow find a way to trigger an international incident. What else could they possibly do with him?
Tears of absolute despair welled up in the Clan Head's eyes as he vented his grievances to Stelle. Once his emotional breakdown concluded, he relied on the oldest, most reliable survival tactic in the shinobi world: throwing obscene amounts of money at the problem.
"Regarding the structural and emotional damages from the attack a few days ago, the Hyuga Clan will bear absolutely all the losses in the civilian sectors. Every single ryo," the Clan Head pleaded, bowing until his forehead pressed against the floorboards. "Please, Hokage-sama. You must give me this opportunity to make amends."
Stelle sat behind her massive oak desk, her chin resting on her steepled fingers. She looked down at Gen, who was kneeling beside his Clan Head with his head bowed in admission of guilt. Her lips twitched involuntarily.
She had specifically approached him in disguise to give him a blatant warning. She hadn't wanted him to get tricked and become the scapegoat for the invasion. Instead of taking the easy way out, this absolute buffoon had turned around, grabbed a shovel, and dug an even deeper grave for himself.
If he had simply been fooled by the enemy's disguise, a light punishment would have sufficed. But noticing the threat, writing a report, and then forgetting to hand it in? That was a level of negligence that bordered on comedic sabotage.
Stelle sighed internally. Forget it. She hadn't factored the Hyuga clan into her grand, manipulative schemes anyway. If she kept applying pressure, their survival would become needlessly difficult, and she still needed their Byakugan for village security.
She waved her hand dismissively, signaling that the financial compensation was accepted and the matter was closed.
The Clan Head nearly collapsed in relief. He thanked her profusely, his voice trembling with gratitude, and grabbed Gen by the collar to drag him out of the office before the Hokage could change her mind.
Unexpectedly, the moment Gen was hauled to his feet, he planted his boots firmly on the floor. Instead of fleeing for his life, he looked directly at the most powerful woman in the village and opened his mouth.
"Hokage-sama, actually, there is something else. There was a kunoichi named Tsukiki on duty with me that day. She was the one who pointed out the suspicious individuals and reminded me to file the report. But she vanished immediately after the incident. I cannot find her anywhere in the rosters. I suspect she must be one of your direct, covert Anbu operatives."
The Clan Head's eyes bulged. He began frantically tugging at Gen's sleeve, coughing loudly and violently shaking his head, but the young man remained completely oblivious to the desperate hints.
"May I ask, Hokage-sama, what post was she transferred to?" Gen continued earnestly. "I have something incredibly important to say to her. I need to see her."
Stelle stared at him, her expression perfectly blank while her mind reeled. Good grief. Are you seriously standing in the Hokage's office, actively digging for classified Anbu intelligence? Do you have a death wish?
She certainly didn't think her temporary 'Tsukiki' alias—a persona specifically crafted to troll Black Zetsu and farm mood values—had anything important to discuss with a guy she had known for barely forty-eight hours.
Without missing a beat, Stelle leaned back in her chair and delivered the pre-arranged cover story. "She was caught accepting bribes from merchants at the main gate. I stripped her of her rank and dispatched her to a remote border outpost."
"Is that so?" Gen blinked, completely missing the finality in her tone. "May I ask which border lord's jurisdiction she was assigned to? I could... mmmph!"
The Clan Head slapped a hand over Gen's mouth, his face pale as a sheet. He bowed frantically to Stelle, muttering a string of breathless apologies, and physically dragged the struggling young man out the door and down the hallway.
An hour later, back within the walled confines of the Hyuga compound, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
The Clan Head sat at the head of the traditional meeting room, his expression darker than the bottom of a well. Gen knelt before him, his chest puffed out, passionately declaring his newfound resolve.
"Do not worry, Clan Head! I have deeply reflected on my mistakes. I will definitely learn from this harsh lesson. I will work ten times harder to contribute to the village and bring absolute glory to the Hyuga name!"
All the blood drained from the Clan Head's face. His entire body began to violently tremble, his hands gripping his knees so hard his knuckles turned white.
"No," the Clan Head whispered, his voice cracking. "Please. I am begging you. Do not work hard. If you work any harder, there will be no Hyuga clan left."
Bring glory? The only thing this idiot was going to bring was destruction. The only 'scattered' the Clan Head saw in their future was the clan being scattered into ashes.
He turned his desperate, bloodshot eyes toward the Great Elder sitting quietly to the side. He abandoned all pride, speaking from the very bottom of his broken heart.
"Great Elder. Please. Keep a strict eye on your son. Lock him in his room. I sincerely, desperately hope he just becomes a salted fish who does absolutely nothing for the rest of his life."
Gen frowned, completely missing the sheer terror radiating from his leader. "Clan Head, you cannot ask that of me. Let me go to the border! Let me guard the outer perimeters of the village. I want to contribute my strength and protect our home from the front lines!"
The border?
The Clan Head's mind flashed with apocalyptic visions. Given Gen's supernatural talent for escalating minor issues into catastrophic disasters, sending him to the border would probably result in him accidentally insulting a foreign Daimyo and triggering the Second Great Ninja War before lunch.
The Clan Head tried to hold back his raging chakra. He really did. But the dam finally broke.
"Eight Trigrams One Hundred Twenty-Eight Palms!"
The sound of rapid, bone-bruising strikes echoed throughout the compound, accompanied by Gen's muffled yelps of pain.
With the internal headaches of the Uchiha and Hyuga temporarily suppressed, the next item on the Hokage's agenda was the Daimyo.
The Daimyo's personal Guardian Ninja had escorted a rogue monk from the Fire Temple directly into Konoha to cause chaos. In the eyes of the village hidden in the leaves, this was the equivalent of the God of Longevity tying his own noose. It was a blatant, suicidal provocation.
Surprisingly, however, the Daimyo truly had no idea about the attack.
He was a coward at heart. While he harbored plenty of treacherous little schemes to regain absolute control over his military, he lacked the spine to actually execute them while the Fourth Hokage drew breath. His grand master plan had been entirely passive: wait for the Hokage to die of old age. If he couldn't outlive her, he would pass the grudge down to his son. They would secretly train elite shinobi in the shadows, wait for the inevitable meat-grinder of the next war between the Five Great Nations, and then launch a surprise raid on Konoha's exhausted home base to seize political power.
When the Daimyo received the terrifying news that his secretly raised Guardian Ninja had gone rogue, attacked Konoha, and directly targeted the Fourth Hokage, his reaction was one of pure, unadulterated horror. He was far more shocked than Uchiha Kagami, who had just kicked down the gilded doors of his palace to confront him.
The Daimyo collapsed onto his luxurious tatami mats and wept. It was not a dignified cry. It was a loud, ugly, heartbroken wailing. Snot ran down his face as he clutched his silk robes, screaming about his innocence.
He was genuinely wronged. He begged the heavens to strike down the treacherous and spare the loyal. He pleaded for the Hokage to conduct a thorough, transparent investigation to clear his name.
Unfortunately for him, 'I didn't know anything' was no longer an acceptable defense.
Uchiha Kagami stood over the weeping ruler, his expression carved from ice. He had never forgotten the history of his clan. He remembered perfectly well how the Daimyo's Mansion had mobilized their vast resources and political influence to orchestrate the death of Uchiha Izuna.
The specific Daimyo who ordered that hit had long since turned to dust, but the institution remained. As long as the Daimyo's Mansion existed, with its immense wealth and private armies, it would always be a venomous snake hiding in the grass, waiting to strike Konoha's blind spot.
The Daimyo hadn't succeeded this time only because the rogue Guardian Ninja lacked a cohesive plan. But what about next year? What about a decade from now? What if, one day, Stelle experienced a lethal, coordinated assassination attempt exactly like the one that had claimed Kagami's beloved teacher, Tobirama?
Back in the founding era, the First Hokage had been too soft, preventing any retaliation. The Second Hokage had been forced to preserve the Daimyo's political power because a young Konoha simply lacked the administrative infrastructure to govern the massive expanse of the Land of Fire alone.
But times had changed. Kagami looked at the pathetic, sobbing man on the floor and knew, with absolute certainty, that Konoha was ready to rule itself.
The killing intent in Kagami's dark eyes spilled over, dropping the temperature in the opulent hall to freezing. He did not speak a single word of condemnation. He simply raised his gloved hand and let it fall.
The elite shinobi forces waiting in the shadows behind him drew their short-swords in perfect unison. The metallic ring of unsheathed steel echoed like a death knell.
The Daimyo's Mansion, an ancient institution that had hoarded the political and financial power of the Land of Fire since the bloody days of the Warring States Period, was finally reduced to ashes by the cold, methodical wrath of Uchiha Kagami.
The complete eradication of the Daimyo's authority brought a swift and brutal consequence to Konoha.
The administrative workload exploded.
Originally, the Hokage's administration only had to worry about the internal logistics of the village, with District One and District Two serving as special management zones. Now, the entire geographical expanse of the Land of Fire fell under their direct jurisdiction.
The volume of paperwork multiplied tenfold overnight. Every single official in the Hokage Building felt like they were slowly descending into madness.
Fortunately, the Six Ministries System that Stelle had previously customized and applied was already fully operational. They didn't need to invent a new government from scratch; they simply needed to scale up the existing foundation. They applied the exact same bureaucratic models used in District One and District Two to the newly acquired territories, dispatching administrators to establish order.
Aside from a crippling, desperate shortage of qualified manpower, the transition was surprisingly smooth. The nation did not fall into chaos.
However, the psychological toll on the high-level officials was severe. Every morning, they would unlock their office doors only to be greeted by fresh, towering stacks of documents that literally scraped the ceiling. The urge to simply lie down on the floor and give up was a daily battle.
Worse yet, absorbing the vast territory and its neglected infrastructure immediately plunged Konoha's finances into a massive deficit.
Every single department head needed funding, and they all swarmed Shimura Danzo's office like starving wolves. From dawn until dusk, people surrounded his desk, aggressively demanding budget approvals for border patrols, agricultural subsidies, and road repairs.
The sheer financial stress pushed Danzo to his absolute breaking point. His temper, already notoriously foul, became explosive. He was so stressed and furious that he developed a new morning routine: he had to physically brawl with Uchiha Kagami in the courtyard every single day before he could even look at a ledger.
Only after the two veteran shinobi had beaten each other black and blue, venting their mutual exhaustion through bruised ribs and split lips, could they calmly sit down and face the mountain of files.
Their daily courtyard fights quickly became the highlight of the Hokage Building.
Every time the two men clashed, sending shockwaves of chakra through the training grounds, Stelle and Hiruzen Sarutobi would sit comfortably on the sidelines, snacks in hand, loudly heckling the combatants.
"Hit him!" Stelle cheered, leaning over the wooden railing and cupping her hands around her mouth. "Aim for the jaw! Hit him harder!"
"Punch him!" Hiruzen chimed in, nodding sagely. "Danzo, who on earth taught you that Taijutsu stance? It's incredibly sloppy. You're leaving your left flank wide open!"
Danzo barely dodged a sweeping kick from Kagami, his face purple with rage as he glared up at the balcony. "Tobirama-sensei taught me, you idiot!"
"What? Tobirama-sensei taught you that?" Stelle gasped in mock horror, shaking her head in deep disappointment. "Then never mind. It's not the technique. It's just that your personal skills are absolute garbage."
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