Inside the interrogation room, Ichiro leaned back in his chair, resting one leg lazily on the table as he stared coldly at Uchiha Fugaku.
"Attacking a fellow Konoha shinobi without cause? Fugaku, are you trying to become a rogue ninja?"
"Don't try to slap labels on me, Ichiro!" Fugaku growled, his face swollen and bruised. "If you've got the guts, just kill me!"
Ken, standing to the side, narrowed his eyes with a sharp glint.
"Lord Ichiro, why not just finish him off now? He struck first—if you kill him here, not even the Third Hokage could say a word."
Ken's voice was filled with murderous intent. He genuinely wanted to see Fugaku dead. So long as the Hokage had no reason to interfere, there was no one left to protect him—not even the current clan head, who was already on his last legs.
Ichiro stood, walked over, and looked down at Fugaku's bound figure. He reached out and lightly tapped the top of Fugaku's head—like a parent scolding a misbehaving child.
"Fugaku… you're still too impulsive. Hold on to that anger. You're going to need it for what comes next."
Then he turned to Ken and gestured calmly.
"I don't care how you do it. Just make sure he signs a confession."
"Understood, Lord Ichiro." Ken grinned wickedly at Fugaku.
Torture? That was one of Ken's specialties. He'd make sure Fugaku had the time of his life in the worst way possible. Still, he was a little disappointed that Ichiro hadn't just killed him. If Fugaku were dead, there would be nothing left to stop Ichiro from taking the title of clan head.
Just as Ichiro stepped out of the interrogation room, he ran into the current clan patriarch—Fugaku's father.
"What brings you to the police force, Clan Head?"
"Where's my son, Ichiro?" the old man demanded, his tone heavy with restrained anger.
"You mean Fugaku? He's in custody. Tried to assault a fellow shinobi—clear violation of village law."
Ichiro showed not even a sliver of respect. After all, this old man had spent years trying to suppress him just to ensure Fugaku's path to leadership was smooth.
"Absurd! Let him go at once! The captain of the Konoha Police being arrested by his own subordinates? If this gets out, our entire clan will become a laughingstock. Is that what you want, Ichiro?"
Ichiro calmly met his gaze.
"And if I don't let him go?"
"I'm the patriarch of the Uchiha Clan! Are you seriously saying you won't listen to me?"
A flicker of killing intent flared in the old man's eyes as he unleashed his chakra. Though no longer at full strength, he had once stood at the brink of Kage-level—though now he probably couldn't even match an elite jōnin due to old wounds from the Second Ninja War.
But Ichiro didn't flinch.
Even if the clan head were still in his prime, Ichiro wouldn't have been threatened.
"Your son assaulted a fellow shinobi. That's textbook rogue ninja behavior. And now you want to cover it up? Sounds like aiding a criminal to me."
He turned toward the hallway.
"Guards—seize the clan head! I, as captain of the police force, am acting in the name of justice. Protecting a traitor is treason!"
Ichiro said it with a soft smile, gesturing toward Goro.
Without hesitation, Goro stepped forward with several officers at his side.
Today, Ichiro wasn't just settling a score with Fugaku. He was taking down the whole father-son duo.
Those two had made his life hell for years—now it was payback time. Anything less would've been an insult to the Villain System he was bound to.
"You dare—cough, cough… Ichiro, you dare lay a hand on me? Are you rebelling against the clan?!"
The old man wheezed as his anger sent his body into a coughing fit. His condition was worse than he let on. Being accused of treason sent his blood pressure spiking.
"Rebellion?" Ichiro smirked. "If anyone's rebelling, it's your son. And you're trying to cover for him."
Goro moved in swiftly, his shinobi blade flashing toward the old man's side.
If that strike had landed, the already-sickly patriarch would've died instantly.
But even weakened, the former near-Kage-level ninja was no pushover. He dodged, forcing Goro back. Goro wouldn't be able to take him down alone.
Several Uchiha guards who had accompanied the patriarch stepped forward—but Ichiro activated his three-tomoe Sharingan and swept them all with a single glare.
"Move—and you die."
That single sentence rooted them in place.
Everyone in the clan knew Ichiro wasn't bluffing.
He had made a name for himself in the Second Great Ninja War. Even though he was young at the time and the war was ending, Ichiro still tore through enemy lines and built a terrifying reputation.
The respect he held today came not from rank—but from raw power.
With his killing intent flaring and his Sharingan gleaming, the low-level chunin guarding the patriarch didn't dare move an inch.
The clan head, to his own misfortune, hadn't brought anyone truly powerful with him—just a handful of nobodies. Not by choice, though; the real fighters were all out on missions.
"This old man's tougher than he looks," Ichiro muttered, watching Goro struggle to get an advantage. Even now, the clan head held his own in both taijutsu and ninjutsu.
But Ichiro wasn't about to let it drag out.
He seized an opening and unleashed a volley of shuriken.
Each one aimed with precision—heart, throat, limbs.
The clan head blocked three, dodged two—but the last one buried itself into his right hand.
The Uchiha were masters of shuriken techniques, especially when paired with the Sharingan's predictive vision. Their accuracy was unmatched.
"Coward," the old man hissed through gritted teeth, shooting a hateful look at Ichiro.
"Calling a ninja a coward—isn't that a bit ironic?"
This was war. Not everyone could charge into enemy lines like Madara.
Ichiro blurred forward with the Body Flicker Technique, drawing Ryūjin Jakka in a fluid arc. The blade may not have awakened its full power, but even sealed, it was sharper than any sword in this world.
The slash drew blood across the old man's chest.
That wasn't just a warning.
Ichiro had swung with intent to kill.
He followed up instantly, closing the distance with Uchiha-style taijutsu. With one hand injured, the old man couldn't even perform seals—single-hand seals weren't something just anyone could do.
Up close, a half-crippled old man was no match for Ichiro.
And with Goro assisting, the two overwhelmed him. In just moments, the clan head collapsed from heavy injuries.
"Hold it, Goro," Ichiro ordered just as Goro was about to strike a finishing blow.
No need to stir up even more trouble.
The old man didn't have long to live anyway. Especially after this beating. If he survived a week, Ichiro would be impressed.
"Uchiha Gen tried to shield a traitor. Arrest him."
Ichiro smiled calmly as he issued the order.
The old man glared at him with bloodshot eyes and spat a mouthful of blood. In that moment, he understood—Ichiro had been waiting for an excuse to provoke him, to draw him into battle and reopen his old wounds.
But Ichiro frowned a bit.
No evil points?
Seriously? After all that?
Not even a single reward.
Now that… was disappointing.