Chapter 17 – Those who follow me prosper, those who oppose me perish!
"Amekage!"
The two words crashed down like a sledgehammer, silencing the conference room.
Before the shock could settle, Hanzou's muffled voice filtered through his mask: "It's decided. From today, Hidden Rain Village will model itself after the Five Great Nations and establish a Kage. Konan will oversee administration and military reorganization."
With one sentence he restructured the government and seized power.
The Family Chiefs around the table exchanged glances. They couldn't fathom why the self-styled "demigod" was taking orders from a bunch of kids.
But greed soon smothered doubt.
Since the cake was being re-cut, they would claim their slice.
"Ahem."
Munashi Jinpachi of the Munashi clan rose. The old man, trading on seniority, had nothing but calculation in his cloudy eyes.
"Lord Amekage, if we're copying the great nations, an Elder Council is standard, yes?"
He smiled ingratiatingly and glanced at Yahiko. "Young people can be impulsive; decisions should be vetted by us old bones."
"Exactly right!" The branch head of the Hanzou clan chimed in, wearing a look of paternal concern. "Key posts like the Security Force and Anbu must be held by great-Family members to be stable. Akatsuki's people… heh, they might not command respect."
The dagger was out.
Trying to hollow out authority? To share power?
At the far end of the table, Maeda kept his head low; cold sweat soaked his back in an instant.
You fools!
He raged silently: You have no idea what monster sits at the head of this table! This isn't cutting cake—it's signing your names in the King of Hell's ledger!
"Since everyone's so enthusiastic…"
Seeing Hanzou stay silent, Munashi Jinpachi grew bolder, raised his right hand, and looked around. "Let's vote. All in favor of forming an Elder Council to 'assist' the Amekage in running the Village, raise your hands."
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Driven by profit, six clan heads raised their hands in unison.
A clear majority.
They beamed at Yahiko—this was Family politics: the law cannot punish the many, not even a Kage can ignore every powerful house.
Yahiko eyed the upraised hands, a cruel curve on his lips.
"Excellent. Very democratic."
He lifted his right hand.
"Snap."
A crisp click of his fingers.
To a Stand user, the sight would have been breathtaking—
The red-and-white monstrous spirit [King Crimson] flashed into being; the world seemed to hit a delete key, the scene collapsing and shattering in that instant.
In this time-fracture only he could perceive, Yahiko strolled to the table, drew six Kunai, and flicked them.
No need to aim; the outcome was set.
"Time, resume."
The world's picture skipped a frame.
To the chiefs who hadn't raised their hands, one moment Munashi Jinpachi and company were grinning triumphantly, arms high.
The next moment—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
No process, no warning.
The six still held their pose, but a quivering Kunai now jutted from each forehead.
Pfft—!
Only then did blood fountains spurt from the wounds.
The six corpses collapsed like marionettes with cut strings, toppling across the table, priceless teacups shattering, scalding tea mingling with crimson blood, drip-drip onto the floor.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
A killing method beyond comprehension strangled every scream in their throats.
Maeda clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking like a sieve.
Too fast… no, that wasn't speed! It skipped the act of killing and slammed the result of death into their faces!
"Ah!"
In the corner, the tailor kneeling to measure Hanzou flinched, his tape measure plopping into the blood.
Staring at the carnage, mind blank, he stammered toward the motionless Hanzou:
"L-Lord… does this ceremonial robe… still fit?"
The absurd question echoed through the gore-soaked chamber.
Ignoring the black humor, Yahiko swept the survivors with amber eyes.
"Well? Does the garment fit?"
Looking at the twitching corpses, the surviving chiefs dared not utter a syllable.
Thud!
One dropped to his knees, banging his forehead on the floor, voice shrill:
"It fits! It fits perfectly!"
"Lord Amekage is brilliant! We will obey utterly! An Elder Council? Treason!"
"Whoever opposes Akatsuki, we'll exterminate his entire clan!"
Fear.
Bone-deep fear.
In this slaughterhouse, who cared about power? Keeping one's head was blessing enough!
"Good."
Yahiko flicked his hand as if shooing flies.
"Clean up this trash and get back to work."
Amnesty!
Including Maeda, they scrambled out of the chamber on hands and knees, wishing for extra legs, afraid the seventh corpse might be theirs.
Boom.
The heavy doors shut.
The stench of blood still clawed the air.
Nagato (Deva Path Pain) turned his head slightly, pale-violet Rinnegan surveying the bodies.
"Yahiko… killing them all—wise?"
Nagato's voice was low. "These families have deep roots; if they retaliate…"
Yahiko stepped to the liquor cabinet and poured himself red wine.
Crimson liquid swirled, reflecting Konan's figure giving a speech in the square outside.
"Nagato, do you know why Hanzou failed?"
He sipped, turned, and met those godly eyes.
"In the past I'd have tried to win them over, delivered a sermon on love and peace."
"But that's the weakling's game."
He gestured at the corpses, voice cold enough to chill the heart.
"In the world of the strong, there's no negotiation—only deciding the outcome."
"Whatever heritage or schemes these clans possess, before absolute power they're a joke."
"Trash of the old era has only one value: fertilizer for the new world."
Nagato regarded this friend both familiar and alien.
The same face, yet a Soul tempered in inferno—domineering, ruthless, yet irresistibly compelling.
In the end, Nagato offered no objection.
If this was the path Yahiko chose, even a road of carnage, he would walk it to the end.
Yahiko's certainty was no blind arrogance.
He opened his palm.
The air shimmered; a golden arrow, ancient and mysterious, materialized above his hand.
Only he heard the System chime inside his mind.
[Ding!]
[Beginner quest: Reclaim glory, retake destiny (completed)]
[Congratulations, host. S-rank reward obtained: Stand Arrow!]