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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 39
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 16:23:57 +0000 UTCA week had passed since Orochimaru fled the village, leaving behind blood and pain.
This time, Hiruzen didn’t try to hide the truth. He addressed the people himself, without ANBU cover, and with grim frankness declared: Orochimaru, his former student, was responsible for the disappearance of children and for conducting secret experiments within the borders of Konoha. He officially branded him a missing-nin and placed a high bounty on his capture — dead or alive.
But no reward could return the children to their parents’ arms.
The next morning, there was a memorial service at the cemetery. The coffins were empty. The funerals were filled with sorrow and despair. But the main thing was — afterward, everyone turned their gaze to the Hokage Tower. And their looks were heavy.
Hiruzen’s shaky reputation, already far from spotless, collapsed completely. No one whispered behind his back anymore — they spoke out loud. If he couldn’t keep one student in check, how could he be the shield of all Konoha?
On training grounds, in clan dojos, in smoke-filled shinobi bars, even in the corridors of the Academy where children usually ran and shouted — now, everyone discussed only one thing: who should take his place? Jiraiya? Tsunade? Some even cautiously brought up Fugaku. But one thing was clear to all — Sarutobi had to step down.
Fugaku watched it all with cold detachment. The rumors spread through the village, political currents shifted — and he was ready for it. He had been preparing his own campaign for a long time. He already had the support of all the clans in his pocket. But was he pleased by this turn of events?
No.
He hated himself. For letting it happen.
If he had been in the village — Orochimaru wouldn’t have dared take a single step toward the children. He would’ve feared Fugaku. Wouldn’t have even thought of trying.
But Fugaku had long been living on the edge. The responsibility he had taken on — for the clan, the village, the police force, the business, the family — had become a crushing weight. Even his shadow clones couldn’t keep up with the workload anymore. Every night he fell asleep in his chair, never making it to bed. And with each passing day, he felt himself becoming the bottleneck through which control barely trickled.
It was time to share the burden. Time to stop seeing his sons only as children and start seeing them as heirs. Itachi and Shisui had to carry part of that weight now.
A polite, almost inaudible knock at the door broke his thoughts. Fugaku looked up. Mikoto stepped into the office.
She looked different than she had the day he returned to Konoha. There was a new light in her eyes, a soft smile on her face. She no longer wept at Kushina’s grave, no longer tore herself up over what had happened.
“I wanted to let you know,” she said, approaching him, “that as of today, visits to Naruto are allowed. Sasuke and I are going to see him.”
She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing something, and held onto the door handle. Her fingers tightened, but she didn’t leave.
“And one more thing,” she added quietly. “Thank you… Thank you for saving Naruto. That means… it means a lot to me.”
Fugaku frowned slightly. He hadn’t expected gratitude. He hadn’t done it for her.
“I would’ve saved anyone in his place,” he replied curtly.
Mikoto nodded, as if that was enough. She was already turning to the door when he suddenly rose from behind the desk.
“Wait,” he said. “I want to come too. I want to see for myself how he’s doing.”
Mikoto stopped and looked back. There was a flicker of surprise in her gaze. As if he’d suddenly grown wings.
“Really?” There was a hint of disbelief in her voice.
Fugaku sighed and looked away.
“Fine,” he admitted. “I need to know what he saw — as a witness. It might be important.”
Mikoto gave a faint smile, soft and just a little teasing.
“Now that sounds more like my husband.”
They stepped out of the Uchiha house into the morning chill. The sky over Konoha was clear, but the air still carried something heavy and uneasy — echoes of recent events.
They walked as four. Fugaku, Mikoto, and Sasuke were joined by Shisui. Since his recent resignation from the ANBU, he had found himself with a surprising amount of free time, and had volunteered to accompany them.
“Well, since I’m officially unemployed, I guess that makes me Mikoto’s bodyguard now,” he said with a wink, walking just off to the side. “So if anyone comes near her with a bouquet, I’ll intervene. Very decisively.”
Mikoto laughed. Her voice was light, alive — as if, for a brief moment, it gave her a reprieve from the heavy cloud of anxiety that hung over their family.
Usually, Sasuke would’ve reacted to jokes like that — with a snide comment or a mock-annoyed huff. But today, he stayed silent. He walked behind them, head down. His steps were quick, almost jittery, and every time a pebble got underfoot, he kicked it away sharply, as if it had personally offended him.
Fugaku glanced sideways at his son.
“You’ve scraped your knuckles again,” he said evenly, not asking — just stating the fact, watching the boy awkwardly press his hands to his jacket as if hiding the evidence.
Sasuke clenched his jaw.
“Been pummeling the training post to exhaustion again,” his father continued. “Why? You know injuries don’t speed up progress. They only slow it down.”
“I know!” Sasuke snapped, almost yelling. “But I can’t help it! Every time I think about how Naruto was kidnapped on his way to my house… I… I just want to break everything!”
He clenched his fists; the skin on his knuckles was freshly torn. His voice trembled with rage, but beneath it was pain.
“I should’ve known something was wrong! I should’ve raised the alarm! Followed his trail! Done something!” he cried. “But instead… I just went to my room to play. Like everything was fine…”
“Irresponsible,” Fugaku said coldly.
Sasuke flinched at the word like he’d been struck.
“But I thought…” his voice cracked. “I thought everything was fine! Naruto’s done that before. Said, ‘Let’s meet up,’ and then forgot, or went fishing, or got distracted somewhere… I thought it was just another time…”
Fugaku was silent for a few seconds. Then his expression softened slightly.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “It really did seem like one of those times.”
Sasuke looked up, pain and a desperate need for answers in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you take me with you on the investigation?” he asked. “You took Shisui. You took Itachi. Why not me? Am I weak?”
Fugaku met his son’s gaze directly. He had no intention of lying. He never lied to his children — especially when the truth could teach.
“Yes,” he said calmly. “You are.”
Sasuke went pale. His shoulders slumped.
Fugaku continued, not letting the boy drown in humiliation:
“You don’t yet have the skills of an investigator. You don’t know how to handle evidence. You might’ve trampled over it, broken the trail. You don’t even have the Sharingan to help you spot it. And if we had encountered a jōnin-level enemy — you’d have been a liability. We might not only have failed the mission. We might’ve lost you.”
Each word hit like a slap. But then Fugaku added, more quietly:
“But that’s normal. You’re still a child. You haven’t even entered the Academy yet. And if you think Itachi or Shisui were better than you at six years old — you’re wrong. They started from nothing too. And you know what?”
He knelt down so he could look Sasuke in the eye.
“You have the potential to surpass them. And to surpass me.”
Sasuke’s head snapped up. His eyes lit up, as if a flame had suddenly flared to life inside him. Fugaku never handed out praise lightly. Every word of approval from him carried the weight of mountains — and meant even more.
Mikoto looked at her son with a warm smile. She knew how much those words meant to him. She saw the despair in his posture melt into something brighter — hope.
“And now I’ll tell you the real secret, Sasuke,” Shisui chimed in conspiratorially, giving a wink. “Your father did the whole investigation himself. Itachi and I were just glorified couriers.”
“Really?” Sasuke frowned, narrowing his eyes at his older brother. “You’re lying.”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin your illusion,” Shisui sighed. “But if you want, I’ll tell you how I missed all the action while running errands for the Hokage.”
“Looking for more serious assignments?” Fugaku asked suddenly, glancing at Shisui. “Since you’re no longer with the ANBU… maybe it’s time you started doing real work.”
Shisui raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“Captain of the police force. You’ve got all the detective skills. I gave them to you — now it’s time to use them.”
“I was starting to think you’d never offer,” Shisui grinned, a satisfied, almost boyish smile spreading across his face. “Captain Shisui… Has a nice ring to it.”
Talking as they went, they continued on their way to Naruto.
They entered the Konoha Hospital building. Bright corridors, the clean scent of antiseptics. A line stretched through the reception area: patients, escorts, shinobi with bandages, worried family members. Just another ordinary day.
Fugaku narrowed his eyes. He despised waiting in lines. But fortunately, they were spared the pointless delay by a familiar figure — a young man in a perfectly pressed white coat, holding a clipboard, his expression far too serious for his age.
“You’re just in time,” Itachi said without breaking his composure, as if addressing patients, not family. “Naruto’s in room two-oh-eight. I’ll take you there.”
Fugaku paused for a moment, looking at his son in that white coat. Not in an ANBU mask, not in a shinobi’s green vest — but in clothes that symbolized healing and care. He was only thirteen, and already accepted as a neurosurgeon’s assistant. The absolute precision of the Sharingan was invaluable in brain surgery. Itachi’s chosen path, and his accomplishments, filled Fugaku with pride.
Mikoto, however, looked at her son with a completely different expression. He was the only man in the house who didn’t carry a weapon every day. And that brought her maternal heart more joy than she had ever admitted aloud. The day Itachi announced he’d been accepted into the neurosurgery department, she only gave a short nod over dinner and said, “I’m proud of you.” But later, under the shower, she giggled — nearly squealed — with happiness, thinking no one could hear.
They walked together, climbing the stairs to the second floor.
“I still can’t believe you left ANBU after me,” Shisui said quietly. “I remember how you used to dream about getting noticed by the Hokage and becoming his student.”
Itachi didn’t slow his pace, didn’t take his eyes off the hallway ahead. His voice sounded flat and distant, like someone who had lived more than he should have.
“That plan’s long obsolete. I’d been doubting the mask for a while. Those missions brought me neither growth nor satisfaction. And after you left, I knew it was time to act.”
They walked down a long corridor lined with identical white doors and green nameplates.
“How is Naruto doing?” Mikoto asked, hoping for even a scrap of good news.
Itachi’s expression didn’t change.
“I’m not his attending physician,” he said. “But rumors circulate in the hospital. His condition is stable. Even better. The jinchūriki’s regeneration kicked in fully — every injury is gone. Not a scratch, not a mark — as if he was never kidnapped.”
He paused for a moment, then added, lowering his voice slightly:
“But they’re still keeping him here. For tests. Orochimaru isn’t the type to let someone go without leaving a ‘gift.’ Could be poison. Could be hidden fūinjutsu. We don’t know. That’s why he’s under observation.”
Mikoto clenched her hands so hard her nails dug into her palms. She didn’t even notice at first. Naruto was almost like a son to her. Every threat to him felt like a personal failure.
They stopped in front of a door labeled Room 208. Behind it — the boy they had failed to protect. Even if they’d gotten him back.
“I won’t go any farther,” Itachi said. “Nono-sensei is waiting for me in the medicine storage.”
Shisui turned to him, intrigued.
“She left ANBU too?”
Itachi nodded.
“Same day as me. Along with half the ones who witnessed Orochimaru’s escape. When I submitted my report, the atmosphere in HQ was… tense.”
He glanced at his father for a brief moment.
“You were right,” he added quietly. “Hiruzen’s covered up the rot for too long. Now it’s starting to seep out.”
Fugaku gave a silent nod. The confirmation was in. He’d suspected, but now he had proof: even the Hokage’s personal guard — the most loyal of the loyal — were beginning to turn away. If ANBU no longer trusted their Hokage, then the question of choosing a new one would be raised any day now.
Itachi slipped away without a sound, vanishing into the corridor like a ghost in white. The moment he disappeared around the corner, the door to Naruto’s room opened — and the atmosphere thickened instantly.
Jiraiya, Kakashi, and Hiruzen.
The trio had clearly been laughing just moments ago — their eyes still sparkled with lingering amusement, faint smiles hovered at the corners of their lips. But the second they locked eyes with the Uchiha family, their expressions hardened like stone.
Silence fell — brittle as glass.
“Good day, Hokage-sama,” Fugaku said coldly.
“Good day, Fugaku-sama,” Hiruzen replied, equally formal.
Shisui, Mikoto, and Sasuke merely nodded. Jiraiya watched them warily. Kakashi looked away. Every word was spoken like a line from a diplomatic script between two rival nations. Not a single extra movement. Not a hint of warmth.
They passed each other without a word — and both sides exhaled almost in unison, to varying degrees of sincerity.
Sasuke was the first to enter the room. Mikoto followed, then Fugaku, and Shisui bounded in last with a spring in his step. The room smelled of medicine, cookies, and childhood. Soft light from the window fell across the white bed, where Naruto sat.
The moment he saw Sasuke, Naruto practically bounced, flailing his arms in excitement.
“You’re finally here! I’ve drawn so much manga this week — it’s insane! There’s this one about a ninja toad who—”
He stopped short. Froze. His eyes widened when he noticed who was standing behind Sasuke.
“G-good afternoon, respected Uchiha,” he stammered with a strained smile and hastily tried to straighten his bedsheets, as if that might make him more respectable.
For some reason, Fugaku’s presence always sent a nervous tremor through him. Not quite fear — but something close. As if Fugaku could hurt him. Or whatever lived inside him.
“I won’t take long,” Fugaku said coldly. “Just one question. Do you remember anything from the moment you were taken?”
Naruto pouted.
“I already told Uncle Kakashi everything. I was walking down the street, heading to Sasuke’s house. Then — darkness. I woke up in the hospital. That’s it. Nothing in between.”
Fugaku looked at him for a few seconds. His gaze was blank, analytical.
“I see,” he said curtly, and turned to leave.
He knew how his presence affected people. He knew that any conversation with him became official. Cold. Lifeless. He had never aimed to be the warm, funny adult who made children feel safe.
As he approached the door, he lifted his eyes. In the shadows above, near the ventilation duct, an ANBU observer lay hidden. Motionless. Silent. But Fugaku spotted him instantly.
Hiruzen had taken precautions. Posted a guard in case Orochimaru came back for his “property.”
Not a single muscle moved on Fugaku’s face. But inwardly, he shook his head. A waste of resources. Orochimaru was vengeful, yes — but not that fast. After a failure, he would disappear, rebuild, gather strength.
You can’t become strong enough to challenge Konoha in just one week.
Fugaku didn’t yet know how wrong he was.
