Capítulo 322: 318
After the Hokage's revelation-filled exchange, Haruto had been placed under a loose house arrest—"precautionary containment," the Hokage had called it, his tone leaving little room for argument. Haruto figured it was the old man's way of reviewing the details without the added complication of his presence. He didn't mind; it was a welcome pause, time to reflect and plan.
His new "home" was a small, isolated house just outside Konoha's walls, the kind of place that barely warranted a second glance. He found the simplicity refreshing, though it was less of a retreat and more a test of patience. Two ANBU had escorted him from the Hokage's office to the house, their watchful gazes suggesting more than simple caution. When they explained the deadly fuinjutsu barrier surrounding the property, they had been so precise, so pointed, that he almost laughed. The warning was clear: any attempt to escape would be met with lethal force.
Once inside, he tested the barrier himself. Sure enough, the fuinjutsu blocked his chakra from extending beyond the walls, effectively muting any presence he might project outside. But his echo sense and vibration awareness cut through the confinement, reaching out beyond the walls like tendrils in the dark. He sensed six shinobi standing guard around the house, their masked faces vigilant. They saw him as a threat, he realized, perhaps more so now than ever. If they only knew the irony.
His thoughts drifted back to his exit from the Hokage's office. Outside, the elders and Danzo had still been waiting, a silent jury assembled to watch him leave. He had passed them without a word, his bandaged gaze locking briefly with Danzo's. Haruto had hoped the empty, covered stare would unnerve him. The expressionless bandage felt like a mask of its own—a silent challenge to Danzo's web of secrets. He was satisfied to imagine Danzo, the master of Root, grappling with the prospect of the Hokage investigating his operations.
He had left behind a few calculated reminders for any investigators prying into his life. Back at his mansion, Haruto knew the ANBU were likely tearing the place apart. They wouldn't find much. He had scrubbed the rooms clean of every note, every personal record. All he'd left behind was his bed and, standing boldly on a pedestal, his red demon mask, inscribed with the words: Demon of Konoha, Defender of Comrades.
Cheesy? Probably. But he couldn't resist the idea of messing with whoever was sent to tear through his things. Let them think he was a little unhinged—what did he care? At this point, he figured most Jonin probably were.
In a way, it made sense now, thinking back to the anime. Some of the outbursts, the strange decisions, the contradictions… he'd always wondered why certain characters acted the way they did. But now, being here, he could see it: they were all carrying trauma, scars that ran deep and rarely healed. Every mission, every loss—they took their toll.
Looking at it now, he thought it was almost impressive that so many shinobi held themselves together as well as they did. In the end, they were all just human beings, living in a world that rarely gave them a moment to process the damage. Maybe the anime hadn't ever addressed it outright, but now he could see the weight that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface.
Two Days Later
Two days later, Haruto stood once again in the Hokage's office, facing a steely gaze that left no room for warmth. Beside the Hokage sat two elders, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, both emanating an air of disapproval, as if they'd already passed judgment. Danzo was notably absent, a detail Haruto took as a promising sign.
Four ANBU stood behind him, silent and masked, but Haruto could feel their tension ripple through the room. His senses picked up the faint yet rapid pulses of their heartbeats, just enough to betray a hint of anxiety. So that's what this is about, he thought, his heightened awareness catching every subtle shift around him.
The Hokage's voice was cool and unyielding, slicing through the silence. "Today, we are here solely to address your actions, Haruto. I myself am overseeing the remaining investigations." His words were carefully measured, conveying the gravity of the situation.
Haruto remained silent as the Hokage began to list his transgressions, each charge heavy with reproach.
"First, you and your teammates failed to report treasonous behavior during the Chunin Exams. This could be attributed to inexperience and youthful judgment, but it still should have been reported."
"Second," the Hokage continued, his tone hardening, "you trespassed into a secure Leaf outpost and stole classified intel. There is no excuse for this."
"Thirdly, you entered a battlefield without direction or authority. You were a medically retired ninja at the time." There was a trace of disappointment in his voice.
"And finally, you concealed your strength from the village. Konoha nurtured you, trained you—and in Konoha's time of need, you withheld that strength." The weight of these words hung in the air, solemn and undeniable.
The Hokage paused before continuing. "Though your actions on the battlefield demonstrated courage, they cannot excuse your breaches of conduct."
Then came the consequences, delivered with calm finality.
"First, you will forfeit the swords you claimed from the Hidden Mist."
"Second, your rank of Chunin is revoked. You will now hold the rank of Genin."
"Third, you are hereby sentenced to serve in the ANBU. You will undertake duties and perform meritorious acts to repay the village for your actions."
Haruto's senses sharpened as tension thickened in the room. The smallest cues—the slight clenching of an ANBU's fist behind him, the shallow, measured breaths of Homura, the faint grinding of Koharu's teeth—revealed what they couldn't say out loud. So that's why the ANBU were nervous, he mused, half-amused. This was no hero's welcome.
He took a steadying breath and lifted his head. "I'd like to say something," he said calmly.
Koharu opened her mouth, clearly prepared to dismiss him, but the Hokage raised a hand, signaling her to remain silent. "Go ahead, Haruto," he said, allowing him the floor.
"I get it," Haruto began, nodding slightly. "You can't have ninja going rogue and playing cowboy—"
The Hokage and the elders reacted instantly. Haruto couldn't see their faces, but his senses caught the cues of their confusion. Koharu's posture stiffened, her breath hitched ever so slightly. Homura shifted in his seat, his fingers pressing briefly against the armrest, while the Hokage's pulse skipped, just for a second, betraying his bewilderment. They're confused, he realized. Right. They don't know what a cowboy is.
"Uh, sorry," Haruto added, clearing his throat. "It's an orphanage term. Means, doing things on my own, without orders."
The elders seemed to ease, though his explanation still hung awkwardly in the room.
"First," Haruto continued, his tone steady, "I'll give up five of the six Mist swords. I'm keeping one."
The Hokage's brow lifted slightly, but he remained silent, listening.
"Second, I'll accept the ANBU sentence—but on one condition. I want to wear my eyeless demon mask, and I want my codename to be 'Demon of Konoha.'"
"And third," he added, "I want to return to my mansion as my residence, with permission to seal it for training purposes."
The Hokage's gaze lingered on Haruto's bandaged eyes, perhaps searching for some insight beneath the hidden gaze. He glanced at the elders, who looked to him for the final decision. He considered each of Haruto's terms, one by one. The sword concession was reasonable enough under the circumstances. The mask and codename could even serve to intensify ANBU's reputation in battle. And as for his mansion, every shinobi clan had their own techniques and secrets.
After a moment of reflection, the Hokage nodded slowly. "Your terms are acceptable."
Haruto inclined his head, a small, barely-there smile playing at his lips.
The Hokage's voice softened as he concluded, "This meeting is adjourned."
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
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