Ryusei began speaking again, his voice as level as ever, his slit-eyed gaze fixed on the dark treetops ahead.

“I really have another arrangement of my own,” he said. “Something to keep me safe in the short term.”

Tsunade glanced at him, brow raised.

He didn’t give her time to question before he continued.

“Even if I stayed at your side every day, you couldn’t always protect me. What if they smeared me? Labeled me a traitor, or worse. They could send an entire squad of elites with the Hokage’s seal. Could you stop them? Even if you survived, even if your name carried you through the fallout… all they’d need is to tie you up under some righteous pretext. Long enough to cut me down.”

Her jaw tightened. For a moment, she felt the surge of pride that came whenever someone challenged her strength; part of her wanted to laugh and snap that nobody could touch her.

But his calm delivery chipped at that instinct. He wasn’t whining. He wasn’t begging.

He laid it out plainly, almost coldly, like he didn’t even respect her ability to shield him completely.

That lack of reverence should have annoyed her. Instead, paradoxically, it only raised him higher in her mind.

Few dared talk to her that way, even fewer with such composure. Still, she couldn’t give ground so easily.

“You underestimate me,” she said sharply. “If I wanted to, I could grind those bastards into the dirt before they touched a hair on your head.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. “Maybe. But are you willing to gamble my life on ‘if you wanted to’?”

Her mouth opened, then closed.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, only the sound of wind through branches filling it.

She hated to admit it, but the brat was right.

She wasn’t invincible.

And if Root or the Hokage’s office decided to brand him, she knew damn well they could bury him before she untangled the mess.

“Damn it,” she thought bitterly. “It really is possible.”

She ground her teeth, more and more disliking the taste of her own thoughts.

Every scenario she ran through ended with the same conclusion: no matter what she did, Sarutobi still held the reins.

Ryusei let the silence drag before speaking again.

“That’s why I need leverage. Something that even the higher-ups can’t ignore. Something that puts them on edge enough to hesitate before making their next move.”

Tsunade blinked, surprised despite herself.

Her heart still hadn’t settled from the picture he’d painted moments earlier, of her being neatly sidestepped while they carved him apart.

And now this, another hidden card, a move she hadn’t seen coming.

Leverage. From a thirteen-year-old boy.

Her eyes narrowed, curious despite her irritation. “Leverage, huh… What could a kid like you possibly have that would rattle the Hokage’s chair?”

Her question hung sharp in the air, but she already knew she wanted the answer.

Inside, she clenched her fist without realizing it.

She was crossing her teacher off more and more, vow forming in her chest. “I won’t face him again unless I absolutely have to. Not after this.”

Ryusei’s tone stayed steady, almost casual, as if he wasn’t describing something that could shake the entire Fire Country to its core.

“You asked what leverage I have,” he said, eyes fixed on the branches rushing by beneath them. “I’ll tell you. My uncle Kazuo and five others. Jonin-level retainers. Senju loyalists, from the similar revivalist linages, who serve inside the Daimyo’s palace even now. We accidentally initiated contact a while ago.”

Tsunade stiffened. Her gaze flicked to him sharply, scanning his face for any sign of bluff.

But he kept that unreadable mask, eyes narrowed, lips barely curved.

“They’ve been there since Tobirama’s decree scattered the clan. Supposedly loyal to the Daimyo. In truth, they’ve always been waiting. For this very moment. The fallback, my grandfather perhaps designed when he realized Konoha itself might swallow us whole.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, voice low, deliberate.

“Last night, while you were resting, I sent a stealthy, suppressed shadow clone. It went to one of the contact points, around the Hot Water Country we agreed upon at that time. If the signal worked, they’ll already be moving. Quietly. Carefully. But once in place, they can hold the Daimyo and his family, all over the central territory, hostage. Not forever. Not publicly. Just enough to buy me space.”

“But that clone I sent wasn’t just a messenger, it would assure those six men way more…” Ryusei added, his tone calm but edged with quiet pride. “After all, you know how shadow clones work. Half of my chakra, not that it would even need to use much of it. Enough to fight at elite jōnin level, and with my world-leading sensory and suppression skills, more than enough to tilt the scales. The clone could pinpoint every Anbu plant and sensor posted near the Daimyō’s circle, wait for the right opportunity for days, and veil Kazuo and the others so they could move like ghosts through the palace grounds when the time comes. It could even split again, create more suppressed scouts, running logistics, distractions, and clearing paths. Getting their hands on the Daimyō and his kin is the hardest part. After that, maintaining control is easier because once they’ve laid their seals on the hostages, coercion does the rest. My clone makes sure that the first step succeeds, and then it could return.”

Tsunade’s breath caught, though she forced herself to stay composed.

Ryusei kept going, his expression flat, his tone almost cold. “With that card on the table, the Hokage and his elders can’t simply erase me anymore. They’ll hesitate. They’ll need me alive, breathing, because otherwise, something could happen to the Daimyo and his entire line of successors at this very troubling moment for them, all at the same time, creating chaos and resulting in them probably losing this entire world without any more financial and logistical support; it would be a military suicide. That hesitation is all I need. Time to grow stronger. To gather proof of their crimes. To build allies. To gain a reputation in this war. By the time they’re ready to move again, it’ll be too late. I’ll be too large a piece to sweep off the board.”

His eyes slid toward her, sharp and foxlike, before turning back ahead. “And when the time comes, those six won’t be condemned traitors anymore. They’ll return openly, exonerated by necessity. The Senju name will breathe again. Not as a whisper, but as a fact.”

The words hung heavy in the night air.

Tsunade’s mind reeled. The sheer audacity of it, the danger, the genius, the recklessness.

Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms.

“This brat…” she thought, pulse pounding in her ears.

She opened her mouth once, shut it, then tried again. “You… you’re playing with fire,” she said finally, voice low but trembling with something between awe and anger.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just told me? Holding the Daimyo hostage isn’t leverage, it’s suicide. If this gets out—”

He cut in smoothly, almost mockingly. “It won’t get out. Not unless I want it to.”

Her chest tightened. Anger, fear, and a grudging respect tangled inside her until she couldn’t separate them.

She had known proud men before, reckless men, but this wasn’t recklessness.

This was calculated. Planned. And that was even more terrifying.

“Damn you, brat…” she thought, her teeth grinding. “You sound just like Takeshi… no—worse. Sharper. More ruthless.”

Aloud, her voice cracked slightly despite herself. “And if you’re wrong? If those six are caught? If the palace tightens security and your plan collapses before it begins?”

Ryusei only shrugged, his indifference as sharp as a blade. “Then I die anyway. No different from Root cutting my throat tomorrow. But at least this way, the risk isn’t all on me. If I fall, the entire village pays the price.”

Tsunade’s eyes widened, and for a split second her breath hitched. She wanted to shout at him, to slap him, to call him insane.

But her throat locked. Because deep down, she knew—this leverage was real. It was dangerous. And it was effective.

Her pride battled with the ache in her chest until finally she looked away, jaw tight.

“Damn you, brat,” she muttered again under her breath, though it carried more pain than anger this time.

Ryusei’s narrow eyes gleamed faintly in the moonlight. Internally, he grinned.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep