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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 34
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 16:12:39 +0000 UTCThree days had passed since their victory over Kakuzu.
The signs of battle were slowly fading. The factory that had become the battlefield now breathed with life once again: shattered walls had been rebuilt, machinery tuned and calibrated, and the sound of working equipment once more filled the area. Workers returned to their stations as if nothing had happened, but the fear left behind didn’t vanish so easily. For a long time, people would whisper about the giant bat they had seen in the sky.
Near the border of the Land of Waves, just off the main road, a black cloak with red clouds fluttered in the wind — torn, scorched, pierced in countless places. It had been deliberately mounted on a steel pole, like a war banner. There was no longer any threat in it — only a warning. A silent message to anyone thinking of coming here with bad intentions. "Akatsuki were here. And they lost."
At Fugaku’s personal order, two reliable shinobi had arrived from Konoha. A security detail — and a symbol of peace for the whole island.
It was time to move forward.
///
The morning was calm. The sun was just beginning to rise above the rooftops, bathing the Uchiha villa walls in soft light. The air was fresh, with a hint of dampness — a reminder of the sea's proximity.
On the mat by the doorstep, someone had left a letter. No address. No seal. No signature. Just like the last time.
Fugaku sat at the kitchen table, carefully opening the thick envelope. His fingers moved with precision, but without haste. He knew how to handle suspicious items — even if it was just paper.
Shisui leaned over his shoulder, openly impatient. Itachi stepped closer as well, silent and focused — like a surgeon before an operation.
"Is it the syndicate again?" Shisui was practically bouncing with excitement. His voice trembled with a mix of anticipation and annoyance. "What does it say? Threats? A demand for a rematch?"
Fugaku read the letter silently. His face remained unreadable, like stone, but the hand holding the paper twitched slightly — not with fear, but with disgust.
"They... apologize," he said flatly. Then, as if he no longer wanted to touch the words, he dropped the letter onto the table with clear revulsion — like discarding a filthy rag.
Shisui immediately snatched it up, skimmed it, and scoffed in disbelief.
“Fugaku-sama, we extend our deepest apologies for the inconvenience. We were unaware that our employee Gato had used the good name of our company for his petty revenge against Uchiha Enterprises. He is no longer with us. We hold you and your work in the highest respect, Fugaku-sama. We hope this small misunderstanding will not become a source of hostility.”
"This is... pathetic," Shisui muttered, dropping the letter back onto the table. "They barked, played the predator, promised to tear us apart. And now? One good punch to the teeth, and they’re whining and wagging their tails."
"Criminals have always been cowards," Fugaku said without looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the envelope's remaining contents.
Itachi leaned in closer.
"What else is there?"
Fugaku carefully tipped the envelope over the table — a dozen or so neatly folded slips of paper spilled out. Each one was handwritten.
"A bribe," he said, fanning them out. "IOUs signed by Tsunade Senju."
Shisui gave a low whistle. He knew exactly how valuable those were.
Itachi, on the other hand, reached out and took one of the notes, examining the signature and the sum with interest.
"If you don’t want them, I’ll take them," he said calmly, but firmly.
Fugaku raised an eyebrow and looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
"I’ve already learned everything Nonō-sensei could teach me," Itachi continued, eyes still on the paper. "Now I want to study the secrets of the legendary Tsunade’s medical techniques."
Fugaku’s gaze swept across the table. The numbers were impressive — several of the IOUs listed six-digit sums. He shook his head, though not in refusal.
"Shinobi don’t sell their hiden jutsu for money," he reminded him.
"I know," Itachi said, lifting his gaze. "But first impressions matter. Especially when they come with a debt."
Fugaku gave a quiet smirk. There was satisfaction in that smile. His son had become a pragmatist. No longer the boy who insisted on doing everything alone, crushed by guilt. He was learning to influence. To approach things from the right angle. To make decisions with a cool head.
Fugaku turned his gaze to Shisui. He had changed too.
Once — shining eyes, a fiery heart, a willingness to sacrifice himself for the village and the Hokage without a second thought. Now — a calm gaze, a faint smirk, and a voice laced with irony instead of blind devotion.
Now, he would ask: is the Hokage’s order really the only path? Are there other options?
Fugaku felt something strange, quiet, but deep. Something between pride and a subtle sadness. His sons were growing up. Quickly. And in exactly the right way.
Sasuke would be entering the Academy in a year. Then Fugaku would begin his advanced training — and watch his son grow with the same quiet pride.
///
By midday, the carriage was ready. A black lacquered coach stood at the main entrance, drawn by powerful stallions, with the silver Uchiha crest gleaming on its side panel. The horses snorted and pawed at the packed earth, sensing the journey ahead.
Fugaku took his place on the front bench, habitually grabbed the reins, and gave a light tug — the stallions lunged forward. Gravel shifted beneath their hooves, the carriage rolled smoothly, and soon the road was flying past in a blur — fields, groves, road signs.
He squinted slightly against the sunlight filtering through the leaves and turned, glancing through the open window.
Inside, Itachi sat with perfect posture, bent over a notebook. His expression was calm to the point of being icy. The fingers of his right hand traced out formulas and diagrams with precise, deliberate strokes. It was the protocol for upcoming tests. He was planning to accelerate Jiongu’s growth. His first solo project — not under anyone’s command or supervision.
With his left hand, almost without looking, Itachi sent small bursts of electricity crackling through the air, as if juggling lightning. He was shaping a non-standard current — searching for the unstable, destructive variant known in Kumo as Black Lightning. Very few had mastered it. But Fugaku had no doubt — his son would.
Itachi no longer chased power for power’s sake. He trained to protect himself and those close to him. The rest of his time was spent on other pursuits.
Fugaku said nothing, but inside he felt that same quiet, familiar satisfaction. His son was growing in the right direction.
A soft thud sounded — and a moment later, Shisui landed beside him on the front bench. He’d slipped out of the carriage with the same ease he used to exit a fight — swift and nearly silent. He settled in next to Fugaku, knees drawn up, one leg slung casually over the side.
"I haven’t pestered you for three days," he began immediately, as if he’d been holding it in to the breaking point. There was a bright, almost playful energy in his voice. "You were busy — restoring the factory, buying equipment, setting up supply chains... I literally had to bite my tongue. You have no idea how hard that was for me!"
Fugaku gave him a sidelong glance without loosening his grip on the reins.
"You want to know how I turned into a monster during the fight," he stated flatly — not a question, but a certainty.
"Yup!" Shisui broke into a wide, satisfied grin, like a child finally handed a treat. "You got huge, terrifying, armored. Kakuzu’s black threads couldn’t pierce your skin. You had so much raw strength, the whole Akimichi clan would be jealous. No amount of taijutsu training could do that."
Itachi’s head appeared in the window. He was still, listening. There was no curiosity or excitement in his eyes — only attention.
"Hiden jutsu," Fugaku said curtly, not turning his head.
"With injection use?" Shisui squinted skeptically, raising a brow. "Does that chemical stuff even interact with chakra?"
"Yes," Fugaku lied calmly.
"And stabbing yourself in the neck — that’s necessary?" Shisui wasn’t letting it go. "Seems really inconvenient. Especially in the middle of a fight. Or if your hands are full."
"Not for much longer," Fugaku finally looked at him. "A few more injections, and my DNA will memorize the transformation. The body will adapt."
He spoke with authority. He had thoroughly studied the Man-Bat serum’s formula. He had researched its creator — a scientist who had once been a victim of his own mutation, only to later master the beast within.
Fugaku went further. He adapted the formula to suit himself — a chakra user enhanced by the Venom steroid. His body was evolving. In time, he would never need injections again.
"Will you teach us how?" Shisui asked quietly. There was no pleading in his voice. He simply wanted to know.
"No," Fugaku replied firmly, without hesitation. "Your bodies aren’t ready. And won’t be for years."
He didn’t bother to explain that for children, even those with chakra, taking the serum almost always ended in death.
"Fiiine..." Shisui dragged out the word. "Not like I was dying to turn into a creepy bat anyway. So... where are we going?"
Fugaku gave the reins a slight pull and answered without turning around:
"To our allies. To sign a contract."
///
The carriage rolled slowly under the canopy of sprawling trees, and the light filtering through the leaves turned dim and ghostly green. A few hundred meters in, when the path narrowed too much for even the compact coach, Fugaku brought the horses to a stop.
In front of them yawned a dark opening in the rock — the mouth of a cave. The stone arch, overgrown with moss, looked like the jaw of something ancient. The air here was damp, with a faint metallic tang. The scent of blood and stone.
"We're here," Fugaku said quietly as he jumped down from the bench.
Shisui followed, but clearly wasn’t thrilled. He stared at the cave with a grimace.
"You’re really about to sign a summoning contract with bats," he muttered. "Creepy, nocturnal... bloodsucking creatures. Why them, of all things?"
Fugaku didn’t answer with words. He parted his lips slightly — and in the daylight, his teeth briefly caught the sun. His canines were slightly elongated, sharpened — unnatural for a human. The Man-Bat serum wasn’t a one-time deal. His biology no longer fully belonged to a man.
Shisui blinked, scratched the back of his head.
"Ah. Yeah… makes sense," he mumbled.
"But how did you even find out that talking bats hide here?" Shisui went on, still eyeing the dark cave warily. "It’s not exactly public info."
Fugaku shrugged, as if brushing dust off his shoulder.
"Money," he said shortly. "Shinobi are happy to sell you information for the right price."
He stepped forward, then paused. Turned back to his sons. His voice dropped — low, deliberate.
"I’m counting on being able to negotiate. That’s my plan A."
He paused — and the boys already knew what would come next.
"Always keep plan B in mind…" Fugaku began.
"…but don’t forget to prepare plans C and D," Itachi and Shisui finished in unison. Their tone was serious, respectful. It wasn’t just a saying — it was one of the pillars of their training.
"Exactly," Fugaku nodded. "That’s why we’re leaving shadow clones outside. If anything goes wrong — they’ll be our eyes and ears on the outside."
Their hands moved in practiced seals. In an instant, silent copies appeared beside each of them, already fully briefed. Without a word, the clones disappeared into the treeline and the shadows around the carriage.
The three Uchiha wasted no time and headed into the cave.
The light began to die almost immediately. The cold, damp air clung to their skin like ghostly fingers. The stone walls narrowed; the floor grew uneven. There were no torches — but they didn’t need any.
Activating their Sharingan, they began to see through the darkness. Red irises flared like lanterns — deep, bright, unsettling. Their glow reflected in puddles and on the wet walls. The cave sloped downward.
"According to the intel, we’ll have to go quite deep," Fugaku said as he led the way. "Let’s review our knowledge. Tell me everything you know about summoning animals. Preparation comes first."
Itachi responded immediately, his voice calm and even, as if reading from an encyclopedia:
"Summon creatures differ from normal animals in their heightened intelligence and ability to communicate. The oldest known creature is the so-called Sage Toad of Mount Myōboku. Its age is estimated at over eight hundred years. One theory suggests that at the time of its birth, a chakra explosion triggered an evolutionary leap."
Fugaku smirked without looking back:
“‘Zoology for Shinobi,’ page one-oh-seven. I read it too. Where’d you find it? The Academy or the library?”
“The Academy,” Itachi replied curtly.
“Hm. Even one year there, and you made the most of it.”
Shisui, walking behind them, chimed in with a slightly less formal tone:
“Intelligent animals live in isolation. They behave like shinobi clans — before the era of hidden villages. They have their own hierarchy, interspecies rivalries, alliances and feuds. They interact with humans only when necessary. Sometimes they take jobs.”
“And summoning contracts?” Fugaku asked without slowing down.
“Contracts are made not with villages, but with individuals,” Shisui answered. “It’s a deeply personal bond. The terms vary every time. ANBU estimated there are only ten such contracts in Konoha.”
“How did those happen?”
“Depends on the animal clan,” Shisui shrugged. “The toads accepted Jiraiya as their chosen one, just welcomed him in. Hiruzen passed a trial set by the monkeys — and earned their trust. Orochimaru pays the snakes in meat for every summon.”
“So it’s all case-by-case,” Itachi concluded.
“Pretty much,” Shisui agreed. “Even though summoning is considered a jutsu, there’s no universal rule for how to learn it — how much chakra it takes, what the effects are, and so on. It all comes down to what kind of deal you can make with the animal clan. And if you can’t make one, no amount of talent or training will help you.”
As the conversation flowed like an underground stream, they had already covered kilometers, descending ever deeper.
If not for their Sharingan — flickering crimson in the total black — they wouldn’t have seen the danger coming.
Bats. Large ones. Draped in kimono. They glided through the darkness in utter silence. They moved fast — lightning-quick and precise like daggers, aiming to slice their throats in one deadly swoop with wings as thin and sharp as razors.
But they had picked the wrong opponents.
The three Uchiha — without a word, almost in sync — dodged effortlessly without breaking stride. Their pace didn’t falter. Not a single movement was wasted.
The bats didn’t strike again, but neither did they retreat. They shot upward, clinging to the ceiling with clawed feet, folding their wings tight, hiding in the shadows — waiting for another chance. Their eyes gleamed like rubies in the dark.
Fugaku stopped. His Sharingan glowed dimly, reflected in theirs. He slowly raised his head and spoke:
“There’s still a sliver of mercy left in my heart,” his voice was calm, but steel threaded through it. “And it vanishes the moment someone raises a hand against me.”
He took a single step forward.
“So let me warn you: if you try to strike again, I won’t dodge. I’ll respond with pain. Real pain. Relentless. Think carefully — are you ready to invoke my wrath?”
The bats flinched. Subtly, almost imperceptibly — but it was enough. Intimidation was an art, and Fugaku had mastered it. He didn’t raise his voice. But even inhuman creatures could feel the abyss of power inside him.
One of the bats hissed. Its voice was creaky, like an old woman with a smoker’s cough:
“Humans are forbidden to go further! Leave while you still can!”
“This path is for bats only!” added a second one, slightly younger — her voice laced with panic, aggression, and fear.
Fugaku didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at them. Then he took a deep breath — and right before his sons' eyes, his body began to change.
Muscles under his clothes contracted and bulged. The lines of his face stretched. His skin darkened, his teeth lengthened — sharper and longer than any human’s. His ears became pointed, and his arms turned into wings. He no longer looked human — and he wasn’t.
“Am I not one of you?” Fugaku asked, his voice now inhuman.
The bats froze. Their eyes widened, claws involuntarily digging into the ceiling. Then — wings fluttered. The creatures descended and began to circle him closely, like a pack of dogs catching the scent of something familiar for the first time.
They sniffed him — boldly, fearlessly. Whispered among themselves. Their wings rustled like the pages of an old book.
“Not an illusion… not a fake,” one of them finally breathed. “He’s like us. He’s one of ours.”
“I need to speak with your leader,” Fugaku said clearly. He had already straightened, returning to his normal form. The monster remained inside — but at will, he could bring it to the surface.
The bats began chattering in their own language — staccato, clicking, full of hisses and sharp whistles. The discussion was brief.
“Given your nature… our Bat-Kage will take interest in you,” the elder bat said slowly. Then her gaze shifted to Shisui and Itachi — and a sibilant hiss crept into her voice. “But keep your little ones close. Their warm blood… smells very strong. Very sweet.”
Shisui raised his scarf over his face with a crooked smile.
“Fantastic. A cave, predatory bats, the scent of blood — what a perfect place for a family outing,” he muttered.
Itachi silently placed a hand on his belt, where a kunai was hidden. His gaze was cold, calculated. Not fear — strategy: number of enemies, number of seconds to neutralize. He didn’t want a fight — but he was ready.
Fugaku took another step forward. His sons followed. The bats didn’t interfere.
The path to the Bat-Kage was open.
