If you want to discredit Danzo directly, the only viable routes are for the Uchiha to publicly challenge the village—an outright rebellion—or to have an Uchiha rise to a position equal to or higher than Danzo's within the village leadership.
Obviously, neither of these paths is currently feasible.
Publicly challenging the village is a red line that cannot be crossed.
Likewise, placing an Uchiha in a high-ranking council seat—especially one with more authority than Danzo—is an uphill, near-impossible battle at present.
"Then are we just supposed to sit here and do nothing?" one of the captains grumbled, his words like a bucket of ice water poured over everyone's heads. This is off-limits, that is off-limits—we're sitting around doing nothing while our pride and dignity get trampled!
We might as well go home and sleep.
Otherwise, tomorrow will be another day full of silent frustration and powerlessness.
The room fell into heavy silence, broken only when Yan finally pulled out a folder and dropped it onto the table.
"Konoha's population registry?"
Everyone stared, confused. That's what he brought?
We were ready for strategies and retaliation, and this is what you offer?
Even Itachi, known for his calm demeanor, seemed slightly disappointed.
"What's Danzo's full name?" Yan suddenly asked, tapping the folder.
"Shimura Danzo, of course," someone replied automatically. "But he could also be referred to as…"
Yan's eyes lit up midway through his own sentence. He paused, the realization striking him like lightning.
That's right. Danzo's full name is Shimura Danzo. We can't target Danzo directly… but what about the Shimura clan?
Danzo may have officially distanced himself from his clan in political terms, but in truth?
He still benefits from the support, influence, and resources of the Shimura family.
If we can't hit Danzo head-on, we can bleed him through his roots—the Shimura clan.
You make life miserable for us? Then we'll return the favor in full.
At the moment, Danzo is only able to make small covert moves to harass and discredit the Uchiha.
In return, the Uchiha—especially with control of the police department—can aim their own quiet war at the Shimura.
You sabotage me in secret? Fine. I'll hit back just as covertly. You play dirty? Then don't expect clean hands from me either.
Yan refused to believe the entire Shimura clan blindly followed Danzo or even supported him.
It would be child's play for the Uchiha to selectively target the clan under the guise of law enforcement.
Stop and search operations. Arbitrary detentions. Minor violations blown out of proportion.
And if anyone resists? Interfering with Konoha law enforcement is an arrestable offense.
"The strategy's sound, but won't our clan's image take a hit?" one of the captains asked cautiously.
"What image?" Yan snapped, slamming his palm on the table. "Tell me—what damn reputation does Uchiha have left?"
"We're not targeting civilians. We're targeting the Shimura—who, last I checked, were shinobi. How much backlash can we really expect?"
"If you don't even have the guts for this, then go home, take a bath, go to sleep, and stop whining about Danzo's actions."
"I refuse to carry the shame of cowardice—and Uchiha shouldn't either!"
"Who says I'm scared?" someone shouted back, veins popping in their neck. "If we don't act, then what the hell are we even doing here?"
"To hell with it! Target the Shimura—let's see who has more backbone."
"I agree," another chimed in. "Worst case, the patriarch scolds us. What's he going to do, punish the entire police force?"
The air in the room shifted. Fired up, determined, united.
Even Itachi, normally the voice of reason and caution, found himself swept up in the momentum.
Whether it was to avoid alienation or a burning need to act—Itachi nodded along.
Logic screamed at him that this was the wrong move—that actions like these could push the Uchiha and Shimura into a blood feud.
But Yan's impassioned voice drowned out logic. Every word cracked away at Itachi's restraint.
How long were they expected to stay calm while being spat on?
This oppression had festered for decades.
No one, not even a prodigious ten-year-old like Itachi, could endure it forever.
"If this goes wrong, blame me!" Yan declared, standing tall. "I, Uchiha Yan, will shoulder the consequences. If it's for the clan—I will never flinch!"
His voice struck like a hammer, ringing in the ears of every captain.
Who else could rally the clan like this? Who else had the backbone to take the fall alone?
Compared to such leadership, what did Danzo offer?
"If anyone dares back out now," Yan shouted, "don't blame me for dealing with you like a traitor!!"
With the die cast, a counterstrike against the Shimura clan had begun to take shape.
Later that night, Itachi staggered slightly as he returned home. The heat from the sake still lingered, clouding his thoughts.
But the sight of someone sitting quietly in the courtyard sobered him up immediately.
"Father," he greeted with a stiff bow.
Fugaku lifted his gaze slowly. "You're a little late. Have you eaten?"
"Yes. I had dinner with Senior Yan."
"Anything you wish to tell me?" Fugaku asked, voice calm yet probing.
The question struck deep. In an instant, images of the tavern, the heated words, the shouts of vengeance, all flashed through Itachi's mind.
His fingers clenched into fists.
"No," he replied after a pause, lowering his head.
He braced himself. Surely his father would reprimand him.
But no harsh words came.
Instead, Fugaku placed a firm, reassuring hand on Itachi's shoulder.
Itachi looked up, startled.
Fugaku's eyes were warm for once. There was no coldness—only pride.
"You've grown," Fugaku said softly. "You now understand the importance of unity and responsibility. That's what it means to be an Uchiha—and my son."
"Go. Get some rest. And next time, at least send word so your mother doesn't worry."
"Yes."
Itachi bowed again and went upstairs.
Still seated in the courtyard, Fugaku turned to Mikoto and said, "He's maturing. I just hope he learns to distinguish between what must be done—and what must be avoided."
"If he follows Yan's lead, I'm not too worried," Mikoto replied gently. "The clan has endured too much for too long."
She gave a wistful sigh. "If only I had the right identity, I'd have joined them too."
Fugaku frowned and rolled his eyes. "Go to sleep."
Mikoto narrowed her eyes at him.
She waited half the night—and this is how he dismissed her?
The next morning, the Police Department had an unusual air.
Officers usually confined to desks or headquarters were out in the field—each leading a full squad as they stormed through patrol routes.
But this didn't look like a patrol. This looked like a declaration of war.
Yan strode down the main street, eyes sharp and predatory.
He scanned everything—every face, every insignia, every gesture.
Across the district, Shimura Jiro was finally heading home.
He couldn't wait to get back to his wife and children. He'd faced danger, completed his mission, and now all he wanted was the warmth of his home.
But his steps unconsciously drifted closer to the crowd. Too close.
Instinct kicked in, and Jiro stepped aside—only for the stranger to mirror his movement, leading to a sharp collision.
"Pfft—cough!"
He staggered back, stunned.
It was a common accident. People bump into each other. Nothing to fuss over.
Except—this guy pushed him?
Jiro, bewildered, reacted on impulse. He shoved the stranger back.
Equal exchange, right?
But to his horror, the man flew backward as though struck by a cannon, crashing to the ground in dramatic fashion.
"Captain!"
"You attacked a police officer! Are you insane?!"
The reaction was instant.
Zhiyan and his team surged forward, enraged and ready to pounce.
The onlookers stepped aside. Tension crackled in the air.
Jiro froze, blood draining from his face.
What just happened?
He glanced at the man sprawled on the ground, then at the police closing in.
"I-I didn't… I didn't do anything…" he stammered. "It wasn't like that…"