"What's there to worry about?"
Jaxon scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk filled with disdain.
In the past, perhaps he might have hesitated—back when he lacked power. Back when influence and backing were all he had. Even then, he still dared to challenge Konoha's authority because he knew how to manipulate their lifelines.
But now? Now he had strength. True, terrifying strength.
Even if it was just 5% of the Demon Lord's power, it wasn't from the early stages of that entity—it was 5% of its ultimate form. By Jaxon's own estimates, that alone would be enough to reduce the current Konoha Village to ashes.
So no—he wasn't concerned. Not anymore.
He wouldn't act recklessly, but he had every right to be a little arrogant.
"Still," Whirlpool True cautioned, his brows furrowing with deep worry, "Young master, even if they don't dare harm you directly, we can't ignore the signs. It's better to tread carefully."
True's concern was genuine. After all, the survival of the Whirlpool Clan now hinged on this one young man.
Jaxon had not only protected the scattered remnants of their people—he had given them a future. Such a profound act of kindness was beyond repaying. True would give his life for him without hesitation.
And after the recent unrest surrounding Kushina—the Nine-Tailed Jinchūriki—Whirlpool True had clearly sensed the hostility rising among Konoha's higher-ups.
Staying here too long could invite disaster.
Jaxon didn't argue. He simply gave a faint smile and said, "You're right. They might be scheming something. But no matter what, as long as we're in the open—under their eyes—we're safe."
True reluctantly nodded.
Though he hadn't been by Jaxon's side for too long, the rotating Uzumaki guards all spoke of Jaxon's strange ability to stay one step ahead. He was sharp. Strategic. Ruthless, even.
For example, Jaxon had single-handedly manipulated the grain market, duping the four major nations and making massive profits at Konoha's expense. That little stunt had partly fueled the hostility now being directed toward him—and toward the entire Whirlpool remnant.
---
Walking Into the Lion's Den
"You two stay here. Don't go anywhere," Jaxon ordered, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode toward the courtyard gate. His movements were calm and deliberate, but each step carried unshakable confidence.
He didn't look back.
The Hyuga Clan, tasked with external security, would ensure the two remained safe—at least inside the compound. Once outside… all bets were off.
Beyond the gate, silence reigned. The path ahead was empty.
"Come on," Jaxon said calmly to the empty air, his voice carrying authority. "I know you're there. Show yourselves and take me to see Elder Danzō."
No reply came.
The trees rustled faintly in the distance. No shadows moved.
Jaxon's eyes narrowed. He turned toward the edge of the nearby forest, a cold sneer forming at the corner of his lips.
"This is your last chance," he warned. "If you don't show yourselves within thirty seconds, I'll leave—and I'll make sure your elder hears that you denied me."
He stepped forward slightly, voice rising. "If anyone from my Jaxon Family is touched again, don't blame me for blockading Konoha. Believe me, I can cut off this Village's financial lifeline overnight."
It wasn't entirely a bluff. The Jaxon Family's influence ran deep. They were Konoha's main military suppliers, controlling trade routes, weapon shipments, and more. A full embargo from them would cripple the Village's operations.
The air trembled.
Just as his countdown neared its end, there was a soft whoosh.
A masked figure appeared, landing in front of him in a blur of motion. Clad in a standard Anbu uniform, he wore a fox-like mask and stood at attention—clearly not a member of Root, but Anbu proper.
"Lord Jaxon," the man said respectfully, "how may I assist you?"
Jaxon studied the man coolly. Though the Anbu's posture was composed, there was a fierceness lurking in his stance—an edge ready to be drawn.
"Take me to see that old man, Danzō," Jaxon ordered curtly.
The Anbu hesitated. "Please show some respect. Elder Danzō is a high authority—"
"Respect?" Jaxon interrupted with a cold laugh. "What are you? Just a dog barking for your master."
The Anbu stiffened. Chakra stirred around him as tension spiked in the air.
But Jaxon didn't flinch. He met the man's gaze squarely, his expression sharp, voice thundering.
"Do you know who I am?" he demanded. "My family—my name—runs the economy that keeps your village from collapsing. And you dare raise your voice at me?"
The Anbu's breath caught. He stepped back instinctively, trembling.
"I-I… you misunderstood!" he finally stammered. "I didn't mean—"
"Misunderstood?" Jaxon snapped. "Don't insult me with lies. You thought you could talk down to me and get away with it."
His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. "You think I'm easy to deal with? You think I'm just some foreign noble playing diplomat?"
The Anbu lowered his head. "I apologize. I went too far…"
A heavy silence fell.
Then, to the man's surprise, Jaxon let out a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm not that petty."
He grinned suddenly, his anger melting into a look of playful mockery. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."
The Anbu stood frozen, unable to decide if Jaxon's calmness was sincere—or simply masking something worse.
"Now," Jaxon said firmly, stepping closer, "go tell your Elder Danzō that Jaxon of the Northern Alliance wants to speak. I'm willing to make a deal."
"And remind him: not everyone deserves the honor of a personal visit from me."
---
Tension Beneath the Surface
As the Anbu vanished into the treetops, Jaxon's expression turned serious once more.
He wasn't just playing politics now. This was a dangerous game.
But he had to play it.
He had shaken the system too deeply just by walking into Konoha. His presence alone disrupted the balance. Every action, every word—every breath he took—was being watched.
But if they wanted to play with fire, then he'd show them just how hot it could burn.
Danzō…
That name alone stirred something cold in him. He'd heard the stories. The manipulator. The shadow. The snake in the Hokage's robes.
But Jaxon wasn't afraid.
He'd face the darkness head-on—and, if necessary, twist its neck until it snapped.
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