Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Naruto: The Last Harbinger Of Storm

NTLHOS: Chapter 48: So the High Council Begins!

"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

—Cersei Lannister

Stay tuned for the next part of NTLHOS!

Join ThirdFireTriden on Pa(tre) on !

NTLHOS: Chapter 49: Political Madness Unleashed IS OUT !

Finalllllly Chapter 50! NTLHOS: Chapter 50: The Mad Strategist's Gambit IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 51: WHY The Queen's Gambit? IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 52: Power and Deception: The Battle for Konoha's Future is out ! (Konoha High council is done we move to the fire court arc next..)

NTLHOS: Chapter 53: "When Naruto goes wild!" IS OUT ! First lemon IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 54: The Capital IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 55: All path shall lead to me! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 56: The Fire Court's Verdict! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 57: The Fire Court's Verdict- II ! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 58: The Crumbling Pillars is out!!!!!!!

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Last time on NTLHOS:

They spent the next few hours discussing strategies, possibilities, contingencies—every possible outcome of the council meeting and what they would do depending on which way the wind blew. And through it all, Naruto felt the cold, calculating certainty that came from knowing that war—whether political or on the battlefield—was coming.

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Now:

The grand council chamber of Konoha was not merely a meeting hall—it was a battlefield, a stage where power, legacy, and ambition collided. The room, vast and awe-inspiring, was where the village's future was shaped, but also where its past lingered like an unshakable shadow. Every stone, every curve of the architecture whispered of old alliances, betrayals, and the silent wars fought between its walls. This was not a place for the faint of heart, for here, strength was measured not by chakra alone, but by cunning, loyalty, and the ability to wield influence like a blade.

At the heart of this sprawling, amphitheater-like room, stood three colossal thrones—symbols of an authority so deeply entrenched it had become the bedrock of Konoha itself. These were not simple seats; they were monuments, emblems of power that reflected the weight of the village's history. Their polished, dark oak surfaces gleamed under the flicker of the chandeliers above, casting long, shifting shadows across the floor. They stood as both reminders and warnings: the past could never be forgotten, and power, though shared, could also be taken.

Dominating the centre was the Hokage's throne, a towering presence that loomed over the room like a sentinel. Carved from ancient mahogany, its deep grain glistened with threads of gold, the kanji for "Fire Shadow" standing out in gleaming letters—an eternal reminder of the village's leadership. This was the seat from which legends had ruled—the First, Second, Third, and Fourth Hokages had all made their choices here, decisions that rippled through time, affecting generations. Each etched line and gilded surface told stories of battles fought and won, of villages united and conquered. The weight of every life in Konoha rested on the shoulders of whoever sat in that throne. It was not just a seat; it was a crown, a burden, a legacy.

To the right of the Hokage's throne, stood the Senju seat, a testament to one of Konoha's founding clans. Though lesser in size only by a fraction, its presence was undeniable. Crafted with intricate care, two crossed tridents were carved into its backrest, their hilts intertwined in a symbol of eternal strength and unity. This seat, though empty, represented the legacy of the Senju clan—a legacy that had built this village brick by brick, alongside their once-closest allies. The empty chair was not a sign of weakness, but of power that no longer needed to announce itself. It was the echo of a great storm, one whose effects were still felt even as its winds had quieted.

On the left side of the Hokage, the Uchiha throne stood in stark contrast. Its red and black fan gleamed ominously, a reminder of the clan's pride, ambition, and the tragedies that had marked their history. The sharp lines of the fan seemed to cut through the air itself, a symbol not only of the Uchiha's power but of the danger that came with it. This was no ordinary seat. It held the weight of untamed potential, of a clan whose thirst for greatness had often brought them to the edge of ruin. For those who sat across from it, the Uchiha seat was a warning: their strength, though subdued for now, was never to be underestimated. Though time had worn down their influence, the throne still emanated a silent, simmering threat.

To the right of the Senju throne, stood the Uzumaki throne, smaller than the Senju's, yet no less proud. It spoke of a different kind of power—the power of resilience. Adorned with the golden spiral of the Uzumaki crest, the seat reflected a clan whose loyalty and ties to Konoha were as unbreakable as the seals they were famed for. Though the Uzumaki had suffered the destruction of their homeland, their legacy had been woven into the very fabric of Konoha, their importance cemented by the Senju's motion, passed long ago in honor of Lady Mito Uzumaki. This chair did not boast with grandeur, but it stood resolute, a quiet reminder that the bonds that tied the Uzumaki to Konoha were forged in fire and would endure even in the darkest times.

Next to the Uzumaki seat, the Hyuga throne sat with regal elegance, its presence commanding and sharp. The stylized fan of their Byakugan was delicately carved into the wood, reflecting the clarity and precision for which the clan was known. As protectors of the village's most sacred traditions, the Hyuga's place at the table was one of deep respect, their throne standing firm in the knowledge that while other clans rose and fell, the Hyuga remained constant, their eyes ever watchful.

Opposite them, on the left of the Uchiha, stood the Nara throne, a subtle yet potent symbol of quiet strength. It bore none of the outward ostentation of its neighbors, yet its dark wood was woven with delicate carvings of deer—their emblem. Here sat the strategists of Konoha, the minds behind the plans that had saved the village from countless threats. The Nara did not need to flaunt their power; it was evident in their silence, in the way they watched and calculated. Their throne was a place of quiet confidence, their influence spanning every battlefield, both seen and unseen.

Further along the Uchiha side sat the Akimichi throne, a grand and imposing chair, fitting for a clan whose presence was as immense as their stature. Swirling clouds decorated its back, representing not only their growth abilities but also their steadfast loyalty. The gold detailing caught the light, a reflection of their generosity and the strength that they had always brought to the village. To stand against an Akimichi was to face an immovable object—one that would protect Konoha no matter the cost.

Across from them, on a platform below where the seating of the major clans began, sat the Aburame Clan—their seat dark, quiet, and unassuming, much like the clan itself. Subtle engravings of insects crawled up the wood, a testament to their mastery over the kikaichū, the silent sentinels that worked unseen until it was too late. The Aburame Clan did not boast or claim center stage, but their influence ran deep, their power lying in the shadows where others dared not tread.

Next to the Aburame was the Inuzuka throne, a fierce and wild counterpart, decorated with carvings of Ninkens and canines, symbolizing their deep connection to their ninken. Their seat radiated with raw, primal energy, a reflection of their warriors' ferocity in battle. Even in this political setting, their wildness could not be tamed.

To a platform below the Uchiha's side, yet still prominent, sat the Yamanaka Clan, their seat adorned with delicate floral engravings that belied their terrifying control over the mind. Their chair's elegance was a stark contrast to the brutal reality of their powers. They were the gatherers of intelligence, the manipulators of thought, able to shift the tide of war with a single whisper. Their presence was not loud, but it was undeniable—an elegant flower hiding the thorns that could cut down the strongest of foes.

From the right and left of the Senju and Uchihas, in ever-expanding, concentric rows, the other clans took their places, the grandeur of their seats diminishing as the hierarchy descended. From noble clans to major clans, to the minor ones, the room reflected the layered structure of Konoha's power. Between the major clans sat civil representatives and the representatives of the Daimyo, their numbers small but their influence considerable. Their seats, though not as ornate, spoke of a different kind of power—the power to influence policy and trade, to shape the village in ways the shinobi could not.

Above all these, surrounding the grand thrones, the Elite Jonin sat in neat rows, their seats simpler but marked with personal crests and achievements, reflecting their standing within the shinobi ranks. Each chair was a testament to the skills and power that had brought them to this chamber—a place where warriors became leaders, their voices just as important in these political halls as they were on the battlefield.

High above, in the upper galleries, the elders, the so-called advisors to the Hokage, sat in their own seats of opulence. They were few in number, and though there were eight seats, only seven were occupied—one left vacant since the death of Kagami Uchiha. Their presence, though diminished in representation, still held sway over the room. With three votes among them, they were reminders that, even as time passed and new leaders rose, the old guard still had a hand in guiding the village's future.

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Kakashi Hatake found himself once again in the grand council chambers, a place he had avoided for as long as he could remember. He was not a man who relished the political undercurrents that swept through Konoha's halls. He preferred the battlefield—where things were simpler, where life and death were often decided by skill and a sharp blade, not by the whispers of council members in gilded seats. But today was different. Today, he was compelled to attend.

As he took his place, Kakashi's mind wandered back to the last time he had sat in these halls, not as a participant, but as part of Lord Third's protection detail. He had seen these proceedings through the eyes of an outsider, watching the powerful make decisions that rippled through the village like unseen tides. It was also in these very halls that his sensei had been anointed Hokage by the Daimyo—a memory both proud and painful.

Today, though, he sat among the representatives of the minor clans, though not as a clan member but as a distinguished individual. By birthright, the seat of the Hatake Clan should have been his, which was among the major clans. But in his youth, driven by anger and a sense of betrayal after his father's death, Kakashi had refused the seat, rejecting anything that tied him to Sakumo Hatake's legacy. Lord Third had insisted, pushing him to take his rightful place in the council, but Kakashi, headstrong and broken at the time, declined. His uncle, eager to fill the void, had taken the seat in his stead. Now, Kakashi regretted that choice, not because he sought power or to spite his uncle, but because he wanted to reclaim the legacy his father had left behind—a legacy tarnished by the very council in which he now sat.

He understood, finally, why Lord Third had wanted him to take the seat. There had always been tension between the Hatake Clan and Hiruzen Sarutobi—ever since the day Kakashi's father had been tried and condemned, not by law, but by the court of public opinion, right here in these halls. A decision that had not only broken Sakumo, but shattered the Hatake Clan's standing. When Kakashi had finally wanted to reclaim that legacy, his uncle had refused, and the entire Hatake Clan had rallied behind him. The clan had argued that Kakashi, despite being only twelve, was legally a Jonin, an adult in the eyes of the law, and bound by the decision he had made as a child. It was in that moment, his uncle had sneered at the Hokage, sarcastically declaring, "It was the wise Hokage who found him worthy of the judgment of a Jonin."

Kakashi had never blamed his uncle. The man had his reasons, and he had always been loyal to the Hatake Clan. It wasn't the same as Kakashi's own loyalty to Lord Third and the Will of Fire. Kakashi had inherited that belief from Obito, who in turn had followed their sensei's ideals—an ideology passed down from Lord Jiraiya, who was the disciple of the Third himself. It was all connected, an unbroken chain of loyalty and belief that Kakashi still clung to.

The Hatake Clan, on the other hand, did not subscribe to Lord Third's judgment. They believed in the Will of Fire, yes, but their interpretation was far removed from Hiruzen's. "In the ninja world, those who break the rules are scum, that's true, but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum." Kakashi had heard Obito say it, but it was his father who had first uttered those words. And in the years since his father's disgrace, the Hatake had taken a different path. They no longer trusted in the village as they once had. The clan came first, then the village. Most Hatake no longer even attended the Academy, preferring to train within their compound. They kept their skills sharp, but they distanced themselves from the duties of Konoha's shinobi ranks, opting instead for civilian positions while always maintaining the readiness of warriors.

Kakashi sighed inwardly. He wasn't here today to lament the state of his clan. He was here for Naruto Uzumaki. Normally, Kakashi would have arrived late—perhaps by three hours, or at the very least, five minutes. But today, he had been ordered to attend, and there was a tension in the air he hadn't felt in years. Lord Third was moving against Naruto, and Kakashi found it hard to believe how far things had come.

It had been nine years since Kakashi had first failed the boy at the Academy—a decision that, in hindsight, may not have been well thought out on his part. Back then, Kakashi had seen Naruto as nothing more than another of Orochimaru's experiments—a child who bore the features of the Uzumaki, but none of their famed abilities. He didn't want to be saddled with responsibility, and since the team didn't show teamwork, Kakashi hadn't given a second thought before failing them. How wrong I was, Kakashi thought, his eye narrowing as he reflected on the boy's journey. Naruto had risen through the ranks like a blade cutting through water, defying every obstacle in his path.

Despite the boy's orphan status, despite being failed by him and having no recommendations from anyone of note, Naruto had jumped from Genin to Tokubetsu Jonin, then to full Jonin in what seemed like the blink of an eye. His climb through the ANBU ranks had been even more impressive, and now, he commanded one of the strongest ANBU teams in Konoha—a unit he had personally built over the past eight months. Kakashi couldn't deny it; he was impressed. But it wasn't Naruto's rapid rise through the ranks that troubled him. It was the power the boy had amassed in the political arena.

Through his connections with the Uchiha and by virtue of his Uzumaki blood, Naruto had built a small alliance with the Uchiha and the Tower. Then, out of necessity, he had formed a broader alliance that had now grown into the second-largest faction in Konoha's political landscape. In just three years of the alliance's existence, the boy had become the second most powerful political figure in the village—second only to the Hokage himself. The few times Kakashi had attended meetings of the Sarutobi Alliance, there had been a certainty that, should Naruto overstep, they could control him. If needed, they would have him captured or executed. Even Kakashi had believed he could capture the boy if it came to that. After all, there was a world of difference between a Jonin and an Elite Jonin, and Kakashi, who was close to the fabled S-rank, had no doubt he could subdue Naruto.

That belief, however, had been shattered when Naruto returned with Orochimaru's severed arm dangling from his belt like a trophy. Kakashi had only encountered the Snake Sannin once, when he was sixteen—a full year older than Naruto was now. And even then, Kakashi had frozen in Orochimaru's presence, paralyzed by the sheer weight of his power. But Naruto had fought him, and by all accounts, had pushed Orochimaru closer to the grave than anyone had since Hanzo of the Salamander himself.

Kakashi Hatake stood in the shadowed corner of the grand council chamber, watching as the room filled with the power brokers of Konoha. The normally still air buzzed with a quiet tension, a tension thicker than he'd felt in years. It clung to the walls, hung over the whispered conversations like an omen. This wasn't just another meeting. It was something far more dangerous. The alliances that had held Konoha together for decades were shifting, fracturing under the weight of unseen pressures.

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His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the faces of those seated in hushed clusters. Clans, factions, old families, and new powers—each one calculating. Allegiances were being bought and sold in whispers. Every glance, every subtle nod, was a trade of power, a bargain struck in the shadows. No one was neutral today. They couldn't afford to be. Siding with Uzumaki Naruto was either a risk worth taking or a gamble that could end in ruin. Kakashi could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him like the cold steel of a blade resting against his neck.

As his eyes scanned the room, they fell to the right, where Guy sat. For a moment, Kakashi almost didn't recognize him. Guy's usual aura of bright energy, the unshakable optimism that had been his companion for years, was missing. Instead, there was a quiet stillness about him, an unreadable expression that Kakashi wasn't used to seeing on his old rival's face. Guy—the man who defined the very spirit of Konoha's unbreakable will—was uncharacteristically subdued.

Kakashi leaned closer, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. "What do you think, Guy?"

Guy didn't respond immediately. His eyes were fixed on the crowd, the tension in the room reflected in his sharp gaze. The murmurs of the gathered council, the lords and ladies of the clans, the shinobi and civilians who made up Konoha's elite—all of them waiting. They were waiting for two people, the only two whose presence truly mattered: Lord Hokage and Uzumaki Naruto.

Finally, Guy turned to Kakashi, his brow furrowed, his face set in rare seriousness. "I'm conflicted, Kakashi," he admitted quietly. His voice, usually full of exuberance and fire, was tempered with something far heavier now. "I've known Naruto for a long time—before all of this, before he became... this." He gestured toward the crowd, the chaos of the gathering, the swirl of power and fear hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. "He's a good kid, Kakashi. A good kid who's made choices I don't agree with. Breaking protocol, revealing mission details—it's dangerous, reckless even."

Guy paused, his eyes scanning the room once more, his expression hardening. "But we both know what would've happened if he hadn't. Your father is proof enough of that. Sakumo didn't play their game, and he paid the price."

Kakashi flinched at the mention of his father, the memories cutting deeper than any blade. Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha, had been crushed under the weight of the very system Naruto was now navigating with a skill that bordered on defiance. His father had chosen honor over mission, loyalty over protocol, and it had destroyed him. Kakashi had never forgiven the council for what they did to Sakumo. But he also knew the truth of what Guy was saying. Naruto had learned from that tragedy, had refused to be crushed by the same system that had devoured Sakumo.

Kakashi didn't respond, didn't need to. The weight of his silence was answer enough. His gaze drifted back to the hall as another figure entered the room, their presence drawing immediate attention. A collective gasp rippled through the chamber, like a stone tossed into still waters, the silence that followed thick with shock.

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Kakashi turned back to Guy, a rare flicker of amusement breaking through the seriousness of the moment. "Your friend's become quite the celebrity, hasn't he? Even he's here, and we both know he never shows unless it's war."

Guy followed Kakashi's gaze, his eyes widening as they settled on the figure now seated in the elder's gallery. The once-empty eighth seat, where Kagami Uchiha had once sat, was now filled. Guy's voice dropped, barely above a whisper, almost reverent. "Jiraiya-sama…"

Jiraiya of the Sannin, the Toad Sage himself, had arrived. And this time, there was no sign of the lecherous grin, no hint of the bumbling fool he often played in public. Jiraiya's face was a mask of stone, carved with grim lines that spoke of the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. He had come to the council, a place he had long avoided, only appearing in the gravest of times. His presence was a signal, clear and unmistakable: this was no ordinary council meeting.

Kakashi narrowed his eye, watching as Jiraiya settled into his seat with the weight of a man preparing for a battlefield, not a political discussion. He had known Jiraiya for years—had seen him in battle, in moments of wisdom and absurdity. But never like this. Something had shifted. The weight of what was coming had drawn the Toad Sage from his usual post, pulling him into the heart of Konoha's politics, a place Jiraiya despised almost as much as Kakashi did.

The whispers in the chamber grew louder, more frantic. Kakashi exchanged a glance with Guy, both of them understanding what Jiraiya's presence meant. He wasn't here as a mere observer. Jiraiya had come to play a part in whatever storm was about to break. The Toad Sage wasn't a man who moved without purpose. His arrival heralded something far more dangerous than any council meeting or political maneuvering.

Kakashi knew, as he watched Jiraiya settle in with that grim expression, that the battle brewing in these halls was far more perilous than any they had ever fought on the battlefield. This was a different kind of war—one fought not with blades or jutsu, but with words, alliances, and betrayals. And it was a war that had the potential to tear Konoha apart from the inside.

As Kakashi's gaze swept the room once more, taking in the faces of the gathered elites, he felt it in his bones: the storm was here. And when it hit, no one would emerge unscathed.

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A deep, resonant gong echoed through the chamber, vibrating through the walls and floor like a wave of foreboding. The low hum of conversation ceased immediately, replaced by an oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. All eyes turned toward the grand entrance as a herald's voice cut through the stillness, ringing out with the crisp authority of long-established tradition:

"Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage."

The room moved as one, a collective rising of power, influence, and history. Every clan head, shinobi, and civilian representative stood to their feet in respect. Kakashi Hatake rose with them, his single visible eye narrowing slightly as he watched the procession. Hiruzen Sarutobi stepped forward, his ceremonial robes flowing with a regal authority that had been earned through years of war, leadership, and sacrifice. Today, however, there was none of the familiar warmth that usually clung to the Third Hokage like a protective aura. Today, Hiruzen was the weight of the village, the embodiment of law and order, and the quiet, simmering wrath that spoke of consequences.

But Hiruzen was not alone. Behind him came the seven elders—silent, powerful shadows that moved with him, a testament to the seriousness of the situation. Kakashi had seen them before, each a pillar of Konoha's leadership: Danzo Shimura, his cane tapping against the polished floor in a rhythm that seemed to echo darker thoughts; Lady Koharu, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her mind ever calculating; Lord Homura, inscrutable and steady. Yet today, there were two figures Kakashi had not seen in this chamber for years—mysterious Lord Aluraya Higen and Lady Sukino Nara, the dangerous lady of the Nara clan, whose reputation for cold, methodical precision had few equals. The last time they had graced the council with their presence, Konoha had still been reeling from the aftermath of the Nine-Tails' attack. The fact that they were here now spoke volumes.

And then, at the rear of the procession, were Lady Kriya Yamanaka and Lord Torifu Akimichi, their presence even more rare. Kakashi had never seen all eight elders together in one room until now. With these two included, they formed the surviving members of the infamous Squad Tobirama. These eight together seldom engaged in the political squabbles of the village unless the very fabric of Konoha was at risk. Together, they were a living relic of Konoha's past—a reminder of a time when the village's leadership had been more unified, more resolute. But now, Kakashi couldn't help but note how far they had drifted from that unity. The cracks had grown into chasms, and nowhere was that more evident than in the strained relationship between Hiruzen and Danzo.

As they reached the center of the chamber, the elders parted, moving toward the grand staircases that led to the upper gallery, where their opulent thrones awaited. They took their seats, perched high above the rest of the assembly like silent judges presiding over the fate of the village. Beside them sat Lord Jiraiya, occupying the seat once held by the late Lord Kagami Uchiha. Kakashi's mind wandered for a brief moment, imagining how it might have been if Lord Kagami were still alive. The infamous Nine, each of them at least S-rank in their prime, would have been reunited to form a single squad. But those days were long gone. Unity was a relic of a bygone era, a dream that had long since fractured under the weight of differing visions and power plays.

The strained relationship between the Third Hokage and Danzo alone was proof enough of that. They stood on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum—Hiruzen, with his vision of balance, unity, and the Will of Fire; and Danzo, the embodiment of the village's darkness, always pushing for control, for the survival of Konoha at any cost. Even the squabbles between the last two members and the rest of the elders, if the rumors were to be believed, were symptomatic of a greater divide.

Hiruzen moved to his throne, the grand seat of the Fire Shadow, the mantle of power that defined him. His steps were slow, measured, deliberate. When he reached his seat, his eyes flicked to the left, settling briefly on the Uchiha seat where Lord Fugaku stood with the same stoic demeanor he always wore in public. Hiruzen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect for one of the village's founding clans. Fugaku, ever formal, returned the nod with a curt bow—polite, but carefully restrained. It was a silent dance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the power the Uchiha still held, even in these uncertain times. Hiruzen's gaze then moved to the empty Senju seat, and there, he offered a subtle, respectful nod, as if acknowledging the absence of a legacy long faded but never forgotten.

Hiruzen then turned his gaze toward the remaining noble clans—the Hyuga, the Nara, the Akimichi—offering each of them a similar nod. Each clan head returned the gesture with a bow, a practiced formality that carried the weight of tradition and power. And then, with a sweeping glance toward the rest of the chamber, Hiruzen's voice cut through the silence like a finely honed blade.

"Today," he began, his tone deep with authority, "due to certain events, a high council has been summoned at the request of my advisors. Let it commence."

With that, he lowered himself into his seat, and the rest of the chamber followed suit, the soft shuffle of hundreds of bodies sitting in unison reverberating through the hall like a breath held and released.

The roll call began, a ceremonial recitation of names, ranks, and titles. One by one, the clan lords, civilian representatives, and department heads were acknowledged. Kakashi's eye roamed the room, lingering on familiar faces—Ibiki, head of the Torture and Interrogation division, and the ANBU commander, both seated among the major clans. These were the individuals who knew what was at stake, the ones who would be expected to enforce the decisions made in this very room. The roll call was complete, and the tension shifted, coiling around the room like a waiting serpent.

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Then, all attention turned to Danzo Shimura.

Kakashi tensed slightly, his sharp senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the room as Danzo stood. The elder's cane tapped against the polished floor as he rose, his face as unreadable as ever. But Kakashi knew better than to be fooled by Danzo's mask of stoicism. There was always something darker lurking behind those cold eyes. Danzo was a master of manipulation, his words like a kunai concealed in the folds of a cloak, and today, he was ready to strike.

Danzo's gaze swept the room, pausing for a fraction of a second on Hiruzen before he offered a curt bow. It was an obligatory gesture, a political courtesy meant to show solidarity, though everyone in the room knew better. The tension between Hiruzen and Danzo was palpable, a quiet war that had raged beneath the surface for years.

"Lord Hokage," Yami No Shinobi began, his voice gravelly, yet commanding, "noble lords, shinobi, and dignitaries of Konoha. In the past few hours, we have witnessed a most troubling incident."

Kakashi's single eye narrowed as he listened. By allowing Danzo to speak first, Lord Third was signaling unity—a tactical move designed to show that, despite their differences, they stood together against the perceived threat, an alliance between Yami and Kami.

"A belligerent shinobi," Danzo continued, his words precise and cutting, "summoned to answer for his crimes outside the village, near the borders, and for almost instigating a war between two villages, has nearly caused a civil war here in our own home." His voice rose slightly, each word laden with accusation, the weight of his authority pressing down on the room. "Moreover, this shinobi has fabricated stories, divulged half-truths, and, by breaking every covenant and protocol of his station, publicly revealed mission details that may or may not even be true."

Danzo's eyes flicked toward Hiruzen, a brief spark of tension passing between them before he pressed on, his words growing heavier with each syllable. "What we face here is not just a rogue shinobi, but the potential destabilization of Konoha itself. If we allow this behavior to go unpunished, we risk setting a dangerous precedent—a precedent that could unravel the very fabric of our village."

The room buzzed with low whispers, the weight of Danzo's accusations spreading like a storm cloud over the council. Kakashi could feel the shift, the dark undertones of fear and control creeping through the assembly.

And Danzo, the master of sha Darkness, was making his move.

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Stay tuned for the next part of NTLHOS!

Join ThirdFireTriden on Pa(tre) on !

NTLHOS: Chapter 49: Political Madness Unleashed IS OUT !

Finalllllly Chapter 50! NTLHOS: Chapter 50: The Mad Strategist's Gambit IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 51: WHY The Queen's Gambit? IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 52: Power and Deception: The Battle for Konoha's Future is out ! (Konoha High council is done we move to the fire court arc next..)

NTLHOS: Chapter 53: "When Naruto goes wild!" IS OUT ! First lemon IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 54: The Capital IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 55: All path shall lead to me! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 56: The Fire Court's Verdict! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 57: The Fire Court's Verdict- II ! IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 58: The Crumbling Pillars is out!!!!!!!

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