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Chapter 27 - Chapter 27: Hyuga Chicken Thief

(How to say, this chapter is somehow part of the story but also not, anyway, it's serving as a transitional point)

The rift between the Uchiha wasn't anything unusual. After all, they all had their own ideas and were quite stubborn. Of course, it didn't affect Konoha—since no one knew.

Well, excluding the Konoha F4, thanks to a certain Will of Fire inheritor.

But despite all this, the opening of the Konoha Tribunal went very smoothly. Azula hadn't planned a big ceremony this time—it would have required too many resources and far too much tinkering.

Unlike the Manga Store, the tribunal didn't need publicity. Its existence itself was the hype.

Azula wore a white robe similar to the Hokage's, but without the flame patterns at the hem. It was pure white, with a single bold word embroidered across the back in black:

JUSTICE.

She sat in the center, perched on a seat slightly too large for her tiny five-year-old frame. Yet her posture was so sharp and commanding that no one dared laugh. On her left sat Tajima and her mother, Asami. On the other side were Kagami and his wife.

Such a small configuration—one Mangekyō user and three with fully matured Three-Tomoe Sharingan, all of them elite-level—was enough to wipe out most minor nations in a single afternoon.

Tajima and Asami were merely accompanying Azula, while Kagami was there more to observe than to participate. Still, Azula being Azula, she had decided to make them part of the "system" while they were at it.

Thus unfolded a strange scene: in the grand tribunal, with banners of Konoha and the Uchiha fan symbol hanging side by side, a little girl with a solemn expression sat as chief judge—flanked by some of the most dangerous shinobi alive.

The tribunal itself was impressively large—bigger than any civilian courtroom—but it wasn't a stadium. A little over 1,000 seats were arranged in tiered rows, and today nearly every single one was occupied.

Word had spread like wildfire: The Uchiha were hosting justice.

And if there was one thing shinobi loved more than gambling, it was gossip with blood attached.

Even Hiruzen had come, sitting in the second row with his pipe. Danzo sat beside him, arms folded, squinting at Azula as if she were some kind of kunai-shaped snake.

Azula cleared her throat. Her voice, though childish, carried perfectly thanks to a subtle use of chakra.

"Order in the tribunal."

The room, which had been buzzing with murmurs and side bets, instantly fell silent.

She shuffled some papers before her (blank sheets, mostly for show). "Today is the first session of the Konoha Tribunal. Let it be known that justice begins here, and justice will not end here. Our goal is fairness, transparency… JUSTICE."

Her golden eyes narrowed dramatically, then she smirked. "Bailiff, call the first case!"

A Chūnin stepped forward nervously with a scroll. "First case… ah… Umino Taro versus Hyūga Genji… matter of… uh… theft of poultry?"

The room immediately burst into whispers.

"Wait, is this about the chickens?"

"Oh, this is going to be good."

"I heard one of them used Byakugan to cheat at chicken-wrangling!"

Azula raised her hand, and the whispers died. "Bring in the plaintiff."

A man in simple farmer's clothes stormed in, holding a broken chicken cage. Several feathers trailed behind him like a tragic cape. His face was red with fury.

"Honorable Tribunal, my name is Umino Taro! And I demand justice!"

Azula steepled her fingers. "Proceed."

Taro pointed dramatically toward the entrance. "Hyūga Genji stole my prize chicken, the most beautiful hen in all of Fire Country! Not only that, he used his fancy clan eyes to do it!"

Gasps. Whispers. Someone shouted, "Byakugan abuse!"

Even Hiruzen coughed on his pipe.

Azula tapped her chin. "A serious accusation. Bring in the accused."

Hyūga Genji entered with all the dignity of a man who believed the world was beneath him. He wore flawless robes, his hair tied perfectly, his pale eyes scanning the crowd as if he were already bored.

"I am Hyūga Genji," he announced, his voice dripping with condescension. "This entire farce is beneath me. Why am I here, again?"

Azula tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming. "Because you allegedly stole a chicken."

The audience exploded in laughter. Even Tajima had to cough into his sleeve to hide a grin.

Genji's face turned red. "This is ridiculous! The Hyūga do not steal livestock!"

Taro screamed, "Tell that to my chicken, you thief!"

Azula rapped her knuckles on the table. "Silence. We will hear evidence."

The bailiff brought forward a small cage… inside which was a plump hen with glossy feathers and a little red ribbon tied around its neck.

The crowd collectively awwwed.

Taro puffed his chest. "That's my beloved Sumire-chan! She's worth more than three cows!"

Genji scoffed. "It's a chicken."

The chicken clucked indignantly.

Azula's lips twitched. "Mr. Umino, how do you know it was Genji who took her?"

Taro pointed. "Because he used his Byakugan to see through my walls! My henhouse was locked, and yet—bam!—the chicken was gone. I tracked the feathers straight to his estate!"

Gasps. Someone muttered, "Classic Hyūga arrogance."

Azula turned to Genji. "Your defense?"

Genji smirked. "Ridiculous. The Hyūga clan does not concern itself with poultry. My Byakugan is for noble purposes. Clearly, this farmer is lying to gain attention."

"Objection," Azula said immediately.

Genji blinked. "You… you can't object. You're the judge!"

"Yes, I can. And I just did. Overruled. Continue."

The crowd howled with laughter.

Azula gestured. "Bring forth the witness."

A boy of about twelve shuffled in nervously, his forehead protector tied loosely around his neck.

"State your name."

"A-Aruta Umino," the boy stammered. "I'm Taro's nephew."

The crowd murmured.

Azula leaned forward. "What did you see?"

Aruta swallowed. "I saw Hyūga Genji carrying Sumire-chan under his arm in the middle of the night. He said, um, 'Finally, the perfect chicken for my training.'"

The room erupted.

"Training chicken?!"

"Hyūga taijutsu with poultry?!"

"Byakugan Chicken Fist!"

Even Kagami's wife had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter.

Genji's face was crimson. "This is outrageous! Lies! Slander!"

Azula raised a hand. "Order. ORDER!"

The chicken clucked again, as if testifying.

Azula stood, robes flowing. "Hyūga Genji. Do you deny possessing this chicken?"

"Yes!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Then why is the ribbon around its neck embroidered with the Hyūga crest?"

Gasps thundered through the chamber. All eyes turned to the hen, whose little ribbon indeed bore the faint stitched emblem of the Hyūga.

Genji froze. "…That's… that's not mine! Someone forged it!"

Azula smirked. "With chicken embroidery skills? Interesting."

The audience roared with laughter again. Even Hiruzen shook his head, muttering, "Kami save me, this is actually working."

Azula stood tall. Her five-year-old frame looked impossibly regal as she pointed at the defendant.

"Hyūga Genji, the evidence is undeniable. You stole this man's chicken, branded it with your clan's symbol, and intended to use it for… questionable training purposes."

She slammed a tiny gavel (Tajima had carved it for her, though he insisted it was "a weapon, not a toy").

"Verdict: guilty!"

The crowd went wild, chanting, "JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!"

Genji sputtered. "This is an outrage! The Hyūga will hear of this!"

Azula leaned back, a sinister little smile on her face. "Good. That's the point."

"Your punishment," Azula declared, "is community service. Specifically, you will spend one month teaching academy students basic taijutsu… while wearing a chicken costume."

The audience exploded.

Aruta nearly fainted from laughter. Taro fell to his knees in relief, hugging his hen.

Genji looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"Case closed," Azula said smugly.

And thus, the Konoha Tribunal's first case ended not in blood, but in feathers—and the legend of Chicken Justice spread faster than fire across the village.

Even beyond Konoha, whispers began: The Uchiha were not just feared… they were hilarious.

And Azula, only five years old, sat back on her oversized chair, satisfied.

Perfect. If you want to change the world, start with a chicken.

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