As autumn faded and spring quietly returned, Konoha entered a rare period of peace. The village bustled with stability—children training at the academy, clans busy with their duties, and even the Hokage enjoying a season free from scandal.
One unexpected factor in this calm was Danzo Shimura's silence. After being humiliated in court and losing much of his authority, Danzo finally behaved himself, at least on the surface. He did not openly scheme or create visible trouble. Yet beneath that calm exterior, his days were anything but comfortable.
Danzo was not having a good time.
His reputation had already been in tatters for years, but after Yato's public accusations and the exposure of Root's darker dealings, that reputation plunged even further. Now, his once-feared network of spies faced difficulty everywhere. Other villages treated his agents with suspicion, while potential allies hesitated to cooperate with him. Recruiting was a nightmare.
Root, which once operated as his private army, could no longer attract strong shinobi. If Danzo wanted more members, he had no choice but to request support from Konoha's great clans. But the Sarutobi, the Hyūga, and especially the Uchiha were in no mood to lend him anyone. With no trust and no reinforcements, Root stagnated.
Even daily life in Konoha became humiliating for him. As he walked the streets, villagers whispered behind his back. Mothers even used his name to discipline their children.
"Mom, I don't want to eat," a little boy whined.
"If you don't eat," the mother replied sternly, "Shimura Danzo will come and capture you!"
The boy instantly widened his eyes and shoved food into his mouth.
In another corner of the village, a toddler cried loudly in his mother's arms.
"Don't cry," the mother said, bouncing him gently. "If you keep crying, Shimura Danzo will take you away."
The toddler's sobs cut off at once, his tears drying in seconds.
Thus, unknowingly, Danzo became the village's most effective tool of child discipline. Parents no longer needed to raise their voices—just the mention of his name made children obedient.
If nothing else, one could say Shimura Danzo made a unique "contribution to education."
But while the village laughed at Danzo's expense, Uchiha Yato was focused on education in a very different way.
Within the Uchiha clan itself, he had noticed a problem growing sharper by the day. The clan's culture, though powerful, carried dangerous flaws.
The Uchiha admired strength above all. For generations, this pride in power created warriors of unmatched talent. Their children grew up competing with one another, striving to outshine their peers. It produced geniuses like Uchiha Shisui and Itachi in later years. But it also cultivated arrogance, short tempers, and a dangerous obsession with proving superiority.
Even now, the clan's young talents were stirring trouble at the ninja academy. Yato had observed the way Uchiha children lorded their skills over classmates, intimidating weaker students. This behavior might seem trivial, but to Yato, it was a warning sign.
"The success and failure of the Uchiha clan both lie in our force," he thought.
During the Warring States Period, the clan's ferocity made them dominant, rivaling the Senju. Their unmatched combat ability forged their legend. But in the era of the Hidden Villages, brute strength was no longer enough. The Senju had dissolved into Konoha, leaving no equal clan to balance Uchiha arrogance. Their fighting spirit, unchecked, became pride—and that pride drew resentment from the village.
This was precisely why, in the original history, the Uchiha were eventually destroyed.
Was there truly no solution?
Yato reflected. Yes, there had been efforts. Uchiha Kagami in the First Hokage's era, and later Shisui, had both tried to soften the clan's arrogance and seek understanding from the village. They sincerely believed that moderation, loyalty, and communication would bridge the gap. But those efforts failed.
The radicals in the clan—stubborn elders clinging to outdated pride—never accepted such compromises. The village leaders, suspicious and fearful, never fully trusted the Uchiha either. Thus the cycle of mistrust spiraled until bloodshed was inevitable.
But Yato refused to let history repeat itself.
"Instead of begging for acceptance," he thought, "why not reshape our foundation? If the old refuse to change, then we must start with the young."
The path was clear: reform the clan's education system.
That very night, Yato decided to act. And as usual, when inspiration struck, he headed straight to the same place—Uchiha Kai's home.
To outsiders, it might seem strange. But Yato had a habit of barging into Kai's house regardless of the hour whenever he had urgent matters. Over the years, Kai had grown used to it, though not without frustration.
Still, this time was different.
Standing outside the window, Yato whispered loudly enough to be heard inside:
"Sister-in-law, open the door."
The words carried just the right volume—quiet enough to avoid passersby, yet loud enough for the family inside to hear.
Unfortunately, both Kai and his wife were present in the room at that moment. And Yato, of all things, had called out to his wife first.
Kai's expression instantly darkened, black as the bottom of a pot. He felt a sharp pang in his chest.
"Did he just… call my wife first?"
To Kai, it almost felt like being cuckolded. His face tightened, his fists clenched. For a brief moment, he could picture himself throwing Yato out the window.
Thankfully, his wife noticed his discomfort. Calmly, she spoke up.
"The window isn't locked. Just come in."
Her tone was natural, as though dismissing any suspicion, and she added politely, "You two talk. I'll prepare some tea."
It was the perfect way to save face for her husband—stepping aside while also keeping the peace.
But when Yato finally entered, he made things worse.
With a grin, he said, "Sister-in-law, the patriarch isn't at home today, right? I came to discuss something with you."
The air froze.
Kai's face turned green instantly. "Patriarch isn't home? I'm sitting right here!"
His wife, realizing her husband's temper was about to explode, quickly intervened. "Whatever the topic, speak to Kai first. Even if it's about education, the elders' approval is required." She excused herself, leaving the men to talk privately.
The moment she stepped out, Kai let loose.
"You brat! Coming to my house in the middle of the night—what on earth are you trying to do?"
Yato shrank slightly, lowering his head in mock guilt. "Haven't I always been like this? I just thought… the clan's problems are too serious. I want us to develop properly."
Kai narrowed his eyes. "Hmph."
Yato then muttered mischievously, "Relax, at least I didn't come out of your closet."
Kai almost spat blood. "Don't joke like that!"
Unfazed, Yato smirked. "Fine, then I'll come out from under your bed next time."
"Get serious!" Kai barked, though the corner of his lip twitched despite himself.
Finally, after venting his frustration, they sat down and turned to business.
"You came here tonight," Kai said, exhaling heavily, "because you want to reform Uchiha education?"
"Yes," Yato nodded firmly. "Our children are too hot-blooded. Their pride is turning into arrogance."
Kai frowned. "Explain."
"Think about it," Yato said, his tone heavy. "Ask anyone at the academy what they think of Uchiha students. The word you'll hear most is: arrogant."
Kai's eyes flashed with anger at the insult, but Yato raised a hand.
"Don't misunderstand. I'm not saying they're wrong or right. But this is how outsiders see us. And perception is reality. The more our children boast and fight, the more resentment they breed. That resentment is dangerous."
Kai fell silent, his face stormy. As patriarch, he valued clan honor more than life. To hear that villagers mocked their name stung deeply. Yet he could not deny Yato's point. The Uchiha Police Force already drew suspicion; arrogance among the children would only worsen that divide.
"So," Kai finally said, "how does this connect to education?"
"Simple," Yato replied, sipping the tea his sister-in-law had brought earlier. "We older ones are already set in our ways. Our thinking is rigid. But the young—children like Shisui and Obito—still have room to change. If we guide them properly, we can reshape our clan's future."
Kai listened intently as Yato laid out his plan: a restructured education program that emphasized humility, cooperation, and emotional discipline alongside martial strength. The goal wasn't to suppress the Uchiha's fighting spirit, but to balance it with wisdom.
"Saving the Uchiha starts from childhood," Yato concluded. "That is my belief."
Kai sat quietly for a long while, his fingers tapping the table. Finally, he nodded.
"Tomorrow, we'll present this to the elders. Some things must be salvaged, even if they resist. But…" he gave Yato a sharp look, "…convincing those old stubborn men will be your responsibility. If you fail, they'll eat you alive."
Yato smirked, leaning back confidently. "Then I'll sharpen my tongue tonight. Tomorrow, I'll win them over."
Kai sighed, shaking his head. "You really are a troublesome brat."
Yet despite his words, there was a trace of hope in his eyes. For the first time in years, someone dared to imagine a different path for the Uchiha clan.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that was the beginning of true rectification.
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