Vetrax
patreon
Batman in Konoha. Chapter 38
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 20:59:20 +0000 UTCFugaku Uchiha entered the Konoha Police building like a starving shark—a predator that had smelled blood. The air seemed to thicken around him, and the on-duty officers instinctively stepped aside. They knew what he was like when he was angry. And right now, he wasn’t just angry. He was seething.
"All files on the child abductions—my office," he said, voice low, stride unbroken. "Immediately."
"Yes, Captain!" Yashiro snapped to attention, nearly knocking over a stack of folders.
Fugaku sat alone in his office. The desk was covered with messy dossiers, maps, photographs, and disappearance charts. In his right hand was a cup of cold coffee—bitter as his thoughts. In his eyes, the Sharingan spun, absorbing every detail of the crime scenes.
Two weeks. Fourteen abductions. All in broad daylight. Children. Some still barely past the swaddling stage. Some taken from playgrounds, others straight from their strollers. It always happened quickly, silently. One child a day. Like clockwork. No ransom demands.
The latest victim—Uzumaki Naruto.
The boy who was on his way to visit them. To see Sasuke. To come to their home.
Fugaku clenched his fist. The cold coffee spilled onto the desk, but he didn’t even notice.
He wasn’t just looking at the evidence—he was devouring it. Not as a shinobi, but as a detective. As someone whose soul had been forged in Gotham, in the maze of madness where evil knew how to wear the mask of reason. Where criminals weren’t just enemies, but monsters with human faces.
Someone knocked. Two steady taps. Calm. Almost respectful.
"Come in," he rasped without looking up from the photos.
Itachi and Shisui stepped inside. Both in ANBU uniforms, no masks. Both grim-faced.
Shisui spoke first. There was none of his usual lightness in his voice.
"We just got back from the ANBU briefing," he said, looking at Fugaku seriously. "Looks like you already know what happened while we were out of the village."
"ANBU is handling this case?" Fugaku looked up, his Sharingan fading. His brows drew together. His voice dropped to something dangerously quiet. "Why? This is an internal security matter. Police jurisdiction."
"Hokage believes the threat is external," Itachi said, voice flat, almost icy. "He thinks it’s political. In his view, the kidnappings are a tactic to destabilize the village. Create panic. Undermine his authority."
"If panic starts," Shisui added, "it won’t just hurt Hiruzen. The parents might take matters into their own hands. And when desperate shinobi start pointing fingers—civil war becomes a real possibility. Hiruzen thinks it’s a provocation. Maybe by Kumo sympathizers. Or Akatsuki."
Fugaku gave a dry, humorless huff. He didn’t argue. Let ANBU chase their foreign enemy. He knew better. The truth ran deeper. And far more terrifying.
He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands flat on the desk. Thoughts turned like steel gears in his mind.
If he were just a shinobi, he might have agreed with Hiruzen. A political plot, a provocation, an information assault. It all sounded plausible.
But he wasn’t just a shinobi. Another world lived in his memory. A world where children vanished every night. Where crimes had no reason, no motive—except pain. And he had been the one who hunted that pain.
He remembered the Gotham cases. The maniacs who took children simply because they could. Because it amused them. Or because they believed in their "mission."
He turned back to the files.
Fourteen victims. Only one that truly stood out—Naruto. Before him, just the kids of regular shinobi. No clan heirs. If this was about toppling Konoha’s political structure, the choice of victims was too strange. Too… soft.
If someone wanted to land a real blow, they’d take children from the Nara, the Akimichi, even the Uchiha. One move—and the clans would explode. Unrest. Pressure on the Hokage. Demands. Riots.
But instead—throwaways. And then, at the end—Uzumaki.
Like a cherry on top.
Something’s off. Professional saboteurs strike fast and hard. They don’t drag out the agony for two weeks.
This… was pleasure. This was someone who didn’t just want to strike. They wanted to play. To watch people lose their minds. To watch tears fall. To watch parents fall apart in desperation, unable to understand where their children had gone.
He recognized the signature—the blend of genius and sadism.
And then… the mosaic came together. One by one, fragments of memory clicked into place.
A genius. A professional. Someone who knew every alley and shadow of the village. Someone who could slip past ANBU and return unnoticed. Someone with resources, connections, and—most importantly—a complete absence of morality.
A psychopath, devoid of guilt. A sadist who took pleasure in pain. Patient. Calculated. Skilled in stretching out agony.
There was only one person in Konoha who fit that description.
Fugaku threw open the office window. The cold night wind slammed into his face. In the next moment, he summoned a hundred silent bats—and one veteran: Keita.
Fugaku stood right at the window, staring directly into Keita’s huge, gleaming eyes.
“Spread out across all of Konoha,” he commanded, voice sharp and precise. “Echolocation at maximum. Check every attic, basement, every crack in the wall. Look for traces of lab equipment, chemical residue, snake movement.”
Keita gave a silent nod, then turned and shot into the sky. The entire swarm followed, wings whispering as they fanned out over the sleeping village.
“You really think it’s… Orochimaru?” Shisui asked seriously. “The legendary Sannin? The Hokage’s own student?”
“I suspect. But it doesn’t hurt to confirm,” Fugaku said over his shoulder. “We’re going home. For the armor.”
The three Uchiha walked the nighttime streets—moving fast, but not running. Like wolves who knew the hunt had begun, but hadn’t yet decided when to tear.
“I’m just trying to understand why,” Shisui continued, keeping pace. “Yeah, Orochimaru was always… unsettling. I heard during the war, they brought him enemy shinobi for his experiments. But kidnapping Konoha’s children? That’s crossing a line. Why risk everything?”
“It’s not just cruelty,” Fugaku answered without turning. “It’s personal. Revenge. Against Hiruzen.”
He slowed for just a second.
“Look at the victims. These aren’t just children—they’re the descendants of an older generation. Hiruzen’s generation. His former comrades. His old allies. And the last one—Naruto. His adoptive grandson. This isn’t an attack on the village. It’s a strike at Hiruzen as a man.”
“To destroy everything for that?” Shisui muttered. “His reputation, his career, his life? That’s not just crime—that’s self-destruction.”
“You’d be right,” Fugaku said calmly, “if Orochimaru really were who he pretends to be. A jōnin. A lab director. A man with something to lose. But maybe… maybe he’s already lost it all. Maybe he no longer sees any reason to stay in Konoha.”
He paused for a breath.
“We have to hope he still has unfinished business here. Because if he’s already fled—we’ll never find him.”
Fugaku quickened his pace. The others followed.
///
The underbelly of Konoha—dark, foul-smelling guts of the village. Forgotten tunnels carved into stone during the era of the First Hokage, covered in mold and ancient fuinjutsu script.
This was where Keita had led them.
“Here,” the bat whispered, pointing a claw at a section of wall that looked completely ordinary.
But as Fugaku approached, his Sharingan picked up a distortion in the chakra. And the smell… acrid, leaking from somewhere within.
“Snake scent,” Keita explained. “Like someone’s keeping a serpentarium inside.”
Before them was an unremarkable wall—behind it, a door. Perfectly concealed, but not to those who saw with different eyes. The truth revealed itself as a faint purple glow. A barrier cloaked the entrance in a dense chakra shell.
“What’s behind it?” Fugaku asked, turning to his sons.
“Nothing,” Shisui answered. “According to our schematics, it’s a dead end. No registered structure at all.”
“Understood,” Fugaku said. “Shisui, bring the Hokage. Tell him we’ve found a lead. Don’t mention who’s suspected. Let him see it himself.”
“You want him to show up without having time to panic over which of his students might be behind this?” Shisui narrowed his eyes. “Got it. I’m on it.”
He vanished in a swirl of shunshin.
Only two remained—father and son. Fugaku knelt before the barrier, beginning to study the fuinjutsu array. The chakra flow came from within, hidden from outside interference. This could only be opened from the inside.
"Good work," he muttered, pulling a vial of green liquid from his belt. "But I’ve got better keys."
"We’re not going to wait for the Hokage?" Itachi asked coldly. His voice was calm, but there was tension beneath it. He was already preparing for a fight.
"There’s no guarantee Hiruzen even knows about this room," Fugaku snapped. "If it was built in secret, he doesn’t have a key. And waiting means giving the enemy time to escape."
He poured the contents of the vial onto the barrier. It hissed violently, like water on open flame. The acid was so potent it evaporated the ink of the fuinjutsu beneath the layer of purple chakra. The circuit was broken. The barrier died instantly.
"Impressive," Itachi said. "I’ve never seen acid that strong. You make it yourself?"
"Something like that," Fugaku replied coldly. He didn’t like remembering the Joker.
The room beyond the door was a burial chamber—for humanity.
Along the sides stood tables lined with glass vials, skulls, remains, and preserved organs. The air was thick with the stench of iron, iodine, and rotting flesh.
In the center stood a massive tank. Inside writhed a serpent—its scales replaced by human faces. They moved faintly, moaning in barely audible tones. Some of the eyes were open.
In a far corner, cages. Inside—blood, scraps of flesh, shreds of children’s clothing.
And on the operating table—a child. A blond-haired boy, around six years old. His face was peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. But his chest had been split open, and long fingers worked over his exposed ribcage.
"Oh, hello, detective," Orochimaru said, glancing up from the dissection as if this were all perfectly normal. "I didn’t know you’d returned to Konoha. I tend to lose track of time when I’m working."
Fugaku stepped inside slowly. He didn’t feel fear. Only rage.
"Step away from the boy," he growled, blocking the way in. "Itachi, check Naruto’s condition."
With a theatrical flourish, Orochimaru pulled off his surgical gloves and tossed them to the floor. He stepped aside, never losing that smug smile.
Itachi approached the child. Chakra glowed soft green on his palms. He moved his hands over Naruto’s body, pausing over each vital organ.
"He’s unconscious, but alive," he said at last. "The injuries are severe, but the jinchūriki’s regeneration is already healing them."
"Of course he’s alive," Orochimaru sang. "I made sure not to touch the heart. Killing a jinchūriki would be idiotic. Lose the bijuu and the specimen is worthless. And I don’t like wasting potential. Science requires precision."
He licked his own face, catching a drop of Naruto’s blood from his chin, and shut his eyes in pleasure—like a sommelier savoring fine wine.
Fugaku tensed his fingers. One wrong move, and he’d crush that bastard’s throat.
"Itachi. Take Naruto to the hospital," he said.
Itachi lifted the boy into his arms. His movements were swift, precise. Without a word, he vanished in a burst of shunshin.
"A hospital’s hardly necessary," Orochimaru said lazily, perching on the edge of a table like he still had a way out of this. "Jinchūriki possess astonishing regeneration. With proper cellular modification and suppression of the bijuu’s chakra, one could achieve immortality."
"So all of this… is about power," Fugaku said slowly, still blocking the exit.
"Of course," Orochimaru smirked. "I’ll admit—I did want to rattle sensei’s nerves a bit. Leave behind Naruto’s mutilated corpse with a snake stuffed down his throat. So the old man would know it was his beloved student who killed his adoptive grandson."
He let out a cold, broken laugh.
"But above all, I did it for myself," Orochimaru continued calmly. "These children carry priceless Senju and Uzumaki genes. Longevity. Phenomenal healing. It’s tragic that only Naruto proudly bears the name of a great clan."
"Where are the other children?" Fugaku asked darkly.
Orochimaru nodded indifferently toward the now-empty cages.
"In the stomachs of snakes. I like order, you see. Rejects get discarded."
Fugaku stepped forward. His Sharingan analyzed every twitch of Orochimaru’s muscles, every curl of his lips, every nuance in his voice. Everything he said was true. A real psychopath.
Batman never gave people like that a second chance. He didn’t plan to today either.
"Before you kill me, there’s something you need to know," Orochimaru said, raising a finger. "All of this… is your fault."
"Is that so?" Fugaku said dryly. "Don’t tell me I used to steal your lunch back at the Academy."
Orochimaru laughed—hoarse and vile, like a snake tail dragging across glass.
"A surprisingly accurate comparison. You stole my patron—Danzō. Because of you, he fled Konoha. And when he left, everything else went with him. My supplies, my subjects, my funding. This is his lab, in case you didn’t know. A perfect little place. But ever since you drove him out, my projects started dying. One after another. And Hiruzen… he never let me become Hokage. Never gave me the resources I needed. That’s why I left. I want a new home. One without limits. And I’m taking your eyes with me!"
Snakes erupted from the floor. They hissed and coiled around Fugaku’s legs, grabbed at his arms, wrapped around his neck, biting, injecting venom.
At the same time, a sword shot from Orochimaru’s mouth—long and thin, glowing with blue energy. The legendary Kusanagi.
It flew straight through Fugaku—then embedded itself in the corridor wall, quivering like an arrow.
Orochimaru froze. He had walked straight into a genjutsu, and only now realized it.
The real Fugaku was standing off to the side.
In the same instant, he grabbed Orochimaru by the throat and slammed him down onto the metal operating table. The steel bent under the force.
Orochimaru wheezed, writhing like his snakes, and managed to hiss out, "Genjutsu? How… how did you do it? I never looked into your eyes!"
Fugaku said nothing. Just stared with cold, quiet contempt. He wasn’t about to reveal his secrets.
High above them, clinging to the ceiling, was a small bat—barely noticeable. It pulsed with the faintest echolocation signals, imperceptible to the human ear. But sound-based genjutsu still worked.
"Alright," Orochimaru rasped. "You win. Take me to prison, detective."
"Let’s skip that part."
Fugaku tightened his grip. With one hand, he pinned both of Orochimaru’s arms as if he were restraining a child. Bones cracked. Orochimaru jerked, but couldn’t escape. The combined strength from the Venom and the Man-Bat serum gave Fugaku inhuman power.
"You… you have the Sharingan… and that kind of strength?!" Orochimaru choked. "It’s… unfair… UNFAIR! Why do some people get everything while others get nothing?! It’s because of people like you that I became what I am!"
"The problem," Fugaku replied calmly, "is that you chose to become this."
In his free hand, he activated a chakra knuckle. The metal ignited with flame chakra. Heat radiated from it like a volcanic furnace. The air in the room shimmered.
Orochimaru trembled. His skin began to blister and melt from the heat.
"One strike," Fugaku whispered, slowly raising his fist like an executioner, "and there won’t be a molecule of you left."
Orochimaru screamed.
Not with his usual dignity. No smirk, no theatrics—just raw, cornered-animal terror.
"Wait!" he rasped. "We can make a deal! I know things no one else does! I can be useful! I have knowledge—"
"What’s going on here?" came a voice from behind. Commanding. Ice-cold.
Hiruzen Sarutobi. Clad in full Hokage robes.
Behind him—ten ANBU. Silent. Their blades pointed directly at Fugaku.
Shisui was among them. His face was a mask, unreadable. But when their eyes met, he gave the faintest shake of the head—and mouthed a silent apology.
Orochimaru smiled. From ear to ear. Part of his face was burned, but he still looked at Fugaku with triumph.
And only now did Fugaku understand why Orochimaru had kept talking instead of attacking outright. The snakes weren’t his real plan. That was Plan B. He had been stalling—waiting for his dear old sensei to arrive. That was Plan A.
"Fugaku, release him. Now," Hiruzen said. His voice shook with fury. And with that voice came chakra—a wave of force that rippled down the corridor, vibrating in bone.
Fugaku lowered his hand. The flame chakra died. The knuckle cooled. He let go of Orochimaru. The ANBU closed ranks instantly, blocking access.
"Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?" Hiruzen snapped.
Fugaku didn’t take his eyes off Orochimaru.
“Your student is a child murderer,” he said evenly. “Naruto’s already in the hospital. If he can’t testify, we have other evidence—the operating table, still warm with his blood. Empty cages with remains of the victims. Everything we need to call this what it is.”
Hiruzen looked at the table. Then at Orochimaru. His gaze turned dark, like a coming storm.
“Sensei… I… I can explain everything…” Orochimaru stammered, once again turning into a slug trying to slip out from under a boot.
Hiruzen closed his eyes. Took a slow breath. Then exhaled.
“Leave us,” he said quietly—but coldly.
Fugaku tensed.
“That wasn’t a request,” Hiruzen added.
One by one, the ANBU vanished. Fugaku was the last to leave. A tense silence hung in the corridor.
“What took you so long?” Fugaku asked Shisui.
“Had to do some running,” he replied guiltily. “The Hokage wasn’t home. He was in the ANBU briefing room, going over every new report in Naruto’s case. It was intense, but the investigation’s finally over.”
Fugaku nodded silently.
He’d been ready to kill Orochimaru right then and there. But now that the man was still alive—another path opened. Maybe a better one. A public execution. The parents of the murdered children deserved to see the one who stole the most precious thing from them suffer.
His thoughts were cut off by a sharp, familiar pop behind the door. Quick, distinct—and unmistakable. A reverse summoning. Fugaku knew that sound by heart, ever since he’d signed the contract with the bats.
He bolted into motion. The ANBU followed. They stormed the lab like a hurricane.
Inside stood only Hiruzen. Alone. Orochimaru was gone.
“He escaped,” Hiruzen said, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“You old piece of shit!” Fugaku roared—and punched him in the jaw.
Hiruzen didn’t even have time to react. His head snapped sideways, and he flew backward, crashing through a glass tank that held a mutated snake floating in formaldehyde. The glass shattered, the liquid spilled out, and the old man crumpled among the shards.
In the same instant, every ANBU blade was pointed at Fugaku. Nine masks. Nine killers, ready to strike. Only Shisui didn’t raise his weapon. But Fugaku didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.
“Look into the eyes of the parents of those dead children…” Fugaku’s voice was quiet. Like death itself whispering. “And say it to them. Tell them you let their killer go. That you gave him another chance. Like you always do—every damn time.”
Blood trickled down Hiruzen’s face. One eye was swollen shut. He looked… old. Truly old. No longer a legend. No longer the God of Shinobi. Just a man—worn out, broken.
But he still managed a slight nod.
One by one, the ANBU lowered their weapons.
“If you think you saved your student,” Fugaku hissed, “that you gave him a chance to start over—you’re wrong. I’ll find him. And I’ll kill him.”
He stepped closer. Hiruzen looked up from the floor. In his gaze—bitterness, weakness, regret.
“And after that,” Fugaku added, “I’ll find Danzō. And I’ll do the same to him. I promise.”
He turned and walked out.
Shisui’s eyes were full of doubt. He paused at the threshold, glanced back at Hiruzen—then lowered his hand. In it was the white ANBU mask. He placed it gently on the floor.
A silent resignation.
Then Shisui turned and followed his father.
Comments
Jan
Hiruzen is starting to get into serious trouble. I promise that.
Bigbowser
I would like to see Hiruzen or his clan get into some serious trouble I would report this to the daimyo because lets face it there are probably alot more children missing in fire country as a whole because of orochimaru.
