"It's my own opinion,"
Itachi replied, his voice steady.
Assassinating the Daimyo wasn't just a crime—it was treason. If word got out, the consequences would be catastrophic. Outrage would spread like wildfire. More and more villages would denounce Konoha, standing with the Fire Daimyo, condemning the Hidden Leaf for what would be seen as state-sponsored assassination.
Konoha's name would be dragged through the mud.
And as expected, since that incident, more outsiders began to arrive in Konoha. Merchants, emissaries, and travelers with ambiguous intentions—many of them were clearly here to investigate, pretending to be neutral parties. But their true goals were buried under layers of political agendas.
"Quan, you go out first," Yan said calmly.
"Oh,"
Izumi gave a short nod, lifting her small hand in a gentle wave. She shot a glance at Hiko, her eyes expressing concern. "Take care of your body, don't push yourself too hard. Call me immediately if something comes up." Her voice was sweet but firm before she slipped out, quietly closing the door behind her.
Chapter 36: Itachi Uchiha — Sure Enough, Complaining Face-to-Face Is the Deadliest!
Once Izumi left, Hiko turned to Itachi, who remained silently by the desk.
"You should already know why these people are coming to Konoha, right?"
"I do," Itachi nodded. "They're here because of the attempted assassination of the Daimyo."
Honesty was second nature to Itachi.
"Then let me ask you—what is the role of the Police Department?"
"To maintain law and order within the village and..."
He hesitated.
Hiruzen Sarutobi once described Itachi as a child with the wisdom of a Hokage. His thinking was sharp, even philosophical. But the wiser a person is, the more they understand the weight of what they know.
And right now, he understood too much.
The Police Department—once the proud arm of Uchiha strength—had seen its wings clipped over the years. Their authority, once extending to high-level tasks like capturing spies and tracking rogue ninjas, had been reduced. The Third Hokage's administration, increasingly wary of the Uchiha, had restricted them to basic law enforcement roles.
Tasks they used to lead were now handled by Anbu or special teams under direct Hokage command.
"Remember," Yan said, voice firm, "the duty of the Police Department now is to maintain law and order. That's all we're allowed to do. The rights we once had? Gone."
He turned, arms folded. "You know why. I don't need to spell it out. For now, if these outsiders don't incite chaos or break laws, don't interfere. Let them come and go."
"Konoha still claims to welcome tourists and merchants."
"And as for handling those here with hidden motives? That falls under Anbu jurisdiction—not ours."
To an outsider, it sounded like Yan was passing the buck. But Itachi knew better.
Yan was bitter—not just about their reduced role, but about how their clan had been sidelined. Uchiha, once powerful protectors of the village, were now reduced to glorified security guards.
"Yes," Itachi bowed slightly.
"Hold on."
Itachi stopped at the door, confused. "Captain?"
Yan gestured to his own face. "Smile."
"…?"
"I mean it. Smile. Let me see it."
Itachi stood, awkward. His fists clenched subtly.
"I'm not being weird," Yan grinned. "Look, I'm not saying become a clown. But see this? This is called being approachable. Don't copy your father's stone-cold face. People get intimidated. And as a member of the Police Department, you need to learn how to engage."
"Smile. People who smile make others feel comfortable. A smile is disarming. You can hide a lot behind a smile."
Itachi remained frozen.
No one had ever told him this before. Smiling was something he did for Sasuke, his mother, and Shisui—not for the world. To everyone else, he wore an unreadable mask.
"The patriarch may have raised you with discipline, and I respect that," Yan continued. "But that doesn't mean you need to inherit his emotional distance."
"Even if you're brilliant, even if you carry the clan's expectations on your shoulders—if you can't connect with your comrades, it means nothing."
"Patriarch, am I wrong?"
Itachi blinked. That question wasn't for him.
"Father?"
The door creaked. Uchiha Fugaku stepped in, arms crossed, face dark like a thundercloud.
Yan's words had struck deep. Telling Itachi not to be like his own father—it was a direct challenge.
Fugaku's expression didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes. That one line—"You're indeed my son, but don't learn from me"—had pierced his pride.
Was he wrong all along? Had his method of raising Itachi stifled his boy?
"Ahem," Fugaku cleared his throat, trying to mask his internal conflict. "If the captain says so, then Itachi—you should learn. Take his advice seriously."
"Yes, father."
Itachi stood straighter, voice loud and clear.
Yan chuckled, trying not to make it obvious. The tension between father and son was comically rigid.
"You're dismissed."
"Father. Captain."
Itachi gave a full bow and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
"What are you doing?" Fugaku snapped the moment the door closed. "I told you to integrate his team, not fill his head with psychological fluff!"
"And I told you not to raise a robot," Yan fired back. "When's the last time someone spoke to you without trembling? That face might command fear—but it doesn't win loyalty."
"You're his father. Not a drill instructor."
Fugaku's brow twitched. His usual intimidation had no effect here. Not on Yan.
"You and your sharp tongue..." Fugaku growled, but dropped the topic.
"Anyway," he said stiffly, "there's a clan assembly tonight. Another meeting to discuss the Police Department reorganization. I expect your attendance."
"No."
Yan didn't hesitate.
"What?!"
"Not interested," Yan replied. "You gather the elders, argue, throw passive jabs, then leave without resolution. Waste of time."
Fugaku narrowed his eyes. He understood. Yan wasn't just skipping the meeting—he was protesting Fugaku's indecisiveness.
And he was right.
The hardliner elders always fought any change. Fugaku tried to be diplomatic, but nothing ever moved. If he couldn't even reorganize the Police Department, how could he handle the bigger threats looming?
Once Fugaku left, Izumi peeked back in.
"Captain, you're really not going?"
"Nope."
"But this is big. The patriarch personally invited you!"
"And? You think I want to sit around while a bunch of old men yell at each other?"
Yan scoffed. "It's always the same. One side wants more power, the other side clings to the past. Nobody listens."
"And when I speak up? 'You're young, you don't respect your elders,' they say."
He stood, stretching.
"If they don't want results, they can keep arguing. But I won't be their pawn."
Izumi looked at him, eyes gleaming with a strange admiration.
"Captain…"
"Don't look at me like that," Yan smirked. "I'm not your hero."
She grinned, saluting playfully. "You're still cooler than the elders."
He sighed.
That wasn't much of a compliment—but it was something.