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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 59
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 20:01:01 +0000 UTCFugaku sat on the wooden bench placed by the entrance to the house. The morning sun bathed the rooftop in a golden hue, its light resting on his shoulders, emphasizing his broad frame and stern facial features. A newspaper was neatly spread out in front of him, its pages rustling slightly in the gentle breeze.
Back before he became the Fifth Hokage, Fugaku used to glance only at the business section—what prices had gone up, which clans were investing in construction, how the land reform was progressing. But now, with the new burden of power, he had to read everything. Even gossip. Especially gossip. Careful reading of fashion trends was sometimes more valuable than an ANBU report.
In the medical section—an article with a loud headline about a medical revolution. Heart transplant. A topic that had sounded impossible eight months ago was now on every medic’s lips around the world. He skimmed the text. Just like eight months ago, one name kept showing up.
"Morning, son," he said quietly, not lifting his eyes from the paper as he caught the familiar sound of footsteps. "How does it feel—living as a living legend?"
Itachi silently sat down beside him. He sat with a straight back, hands resting on his knees. His gaze was directed into the distance, but his thoughts were buried deep inside. His voice came out hoarse, almost detached:
"Lousy."
Fugaku folded the newspaper and turned to him. His son looked tired. Not physically—he was composed and calm as always. But his eyes betrayed him: the exhaustion was internal. Not from sleepless nights, but from choices no one should have to face at his age.
"This operation," Itachi began after a pause, as if weighing his words. "It was supposed to give Rock Lee a chance at a normal life. But people… people saw it not as mercy, but as a path to power."
He clenched his fists, and for a moment the muscles in his arms tensed. Fugaku noticed, but said nothing, waiting patiently.
"I picked the heart based on the patient’s age. Eight years old—the heart had to fit inside a child’s chest. Among the few suitable options, there was one… from a boy who died on a mission. A young prodigy, mastered two chakra natures—wind and lightning. After the transplant, Lee began to sense them. He can use both natures easily, as if he had trained in them himself."
He looked at his father. Fugaku’s face remained calm, but his eyes sharpened.
"Now everyone wants the same thing," Itachi said, turning his gaze away. "Every day they come. With requests. With money. With threats. I’m no longer a doctor—I’m a shortcut to power."
He gave a short, nearly silent laugh.
"Yesterday Hiruzen came in for a check-up," he went on. "Routine exam. But the moment he stepped into the room, he launched into a speech about how old he is, how death is breathing down his neck, and how he wants to pass on everything to his grandson… including his heart. Can you believe that? Konohamaru—hasn’t even entered the Academy yet—and he’d get five chakra natures if Hiruzen’s plan works."
Fugaku’s expression didn’t change. He just leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"And what did you tell him?"
"I explained that his heart is too big for a child’s body. And too worn out," Itachi answered grimly. "Naturally, he just patted my shoulder and said he ‘believes in my talent.’ That I’d figure something out."
Fugaku gave a dry hum.
"Expected. Same old song. Just like with Tsunade—show brilliance in medicine once, and now everyone expects miracles from you every day."
Itachi was silent. Then he spoke again, more softly this time, barely moving his lips:
"It was easier when no one bothered me outside the hospital. When the nurses brought in patient lists, not political demands and requests. Now even my peers—doctors, scientists—line up to see me. They say they want to exchange knowledge, but…"
He trailed off, then looked at his father.
"That’s not why I came. I wanted to talk about something else. I need your advice."
Fugaku shifted his gaze from the horizon to his son, quietly studying his profile. He was about to respond when the air was suddenly pierced by a booming voice:
"THE POWER OF YOUTH FLIES ON WINGS!"
From around the corner burst a familiar trio: Might Duy, his son Guy, and the ever-energetic Rock Lee. As usual, they were literally flying—on their hands. Their bodies gleamed with sweat, and their faces shone with the kind of enthusiasm that made life itself look like a training session.
Spotting the Hokage, they stopped at once, perfectly synchronized, and struck a pose.
"Good morning, Hokage-sama!" they cried in unison, bowing so low they nearly knocked their foreheads into the ground.
Fugaku gave a barely noticeable nod—like a man who was used to this kind of thing.
The trio then abruptly turned to Itachi and bowed even lower—so low, in fact, that Lee tipped forward and nearly lost his balance.
"Itachi-san, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts!" Gai proclaimed solemnly, clenching his fists. "You’re the greatest medic in this world—maybe in all worlds!"
"Endless gratitude for the gift of strength and hope!" Lee added, eyes shining. "I’ll train ten times harder! No—one hundred times!"
Itachi responded just as reservedly as his father—with a slight nod. But in his gaze, a flicker of awkwardness passed.
"AND NOW—INTENSIFIED TRAINING!" Gai roared, shaking the surrounding air.
"LOADED SPRINTS!" echoed Lee and Duy.
All three bit their fingers in perfect sync and summoned their personal turtles. Gai’s and Lee’s were massive, donkey-sized creatures with bright bands tied around their shells. Duy’s, on the other hand, was a tiny turtle with a red ribbon around its neck—more of a pet than a summon. One by one, they lifted their turtles onto their backs and, shouting a battle cry, took off in a cloud of dust and enthusiasm.
"With his new heart, Lee’s chakra already surpasses adult Duy’s," Itachi said quietly. "And they put on this display every single day. They don’t even realize they’re constantly reminding the world of what I’m capable of now."
Fugaku was silent for a moment, then calmly reminded him:
"You said you wanted to ask me something."
Itachi nodded, then lowered his voice:
"What if I told you… I can transplant the old man’s heart into his grandson? With full transfer of chakra and innate potential."
Fugaku didn’t move—but his gaze sharpened.
"It’s still just a theory," Itachi went on. "But not a far-fetched one anymore. With freezing technology, an organ’s viability could be extended up to thirty years. And with chakra modulation, its physical size could be reduced to fit a child’s anatomy."
He paused, waiting. But Fugaku responded at once, calm and firm:
"Keep experimenting. Refine the method. But tell everyone—including Hiruzen—that it’s impossible."
He rose from the bench slowly, as if to underline the weight of his words:
"Passing on all the strength accumulated over a lifetime to the next generation—that’s every shinobi’s dream. It’s a path to spiritual immortality. And if it becomes real, the world will change overnight. Not gradually—instantly. The balance will vanish. Villages will go to war for hearts. For unique genomes. We’ll lose everything. The world isn’t ready for that yet."
Itachi simply nodded.
"Thank you, Father. That’s exactly what I needed to hear."
He stood up and walked back toward the hospital at a calm pace, disappearing around the corner. But Fugaku’s solitude didn’t last long.
“Dad,” came a familiar voice, “got a minute?”
Sasuke approached. Wearing the standard genin uniform, forehead protector in place, and that usual mix of defiance and control in his eyes. But today, there was something else too—an unmistakable spark of interest.
Fugaku gave a dry hum.
"How does it feel to be a genin?"
“D-rank missions exist only to earn pocket change,” Sasuke shrugged. “I leave those to my teammates. They need it more.”
Fugaku nodded approvingly.
“Sensible approach. Imagine the optics—Hokage’s son sweeping the streets for spare change. That would be... theatrical.”
“Exactly,” Sasuke said with satisfaction. “Besides, I graduated the academy in a year. Just like I promised.”
Fugaku looked at him longer than usual, then said gently:
“I’m proud of you, son.”
Sasuke straightened his back, shoulders squared, then asked—restrained but with genuine excitement:
“You said you’d train me after graduation. Remember?”
“I remember. And I meant it,” Fugaku said, meeting his gaze. “Have you decided which path you want to pursue?”
Sasuke smirked. A fire lit up in his eyes.
“If there are no limits…” he leaned in slightly, “will you show me the techniques from the Hokage’s scroll?”
Fugaku raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t just curiosity—this was a claim to power. He slowly furrowed his brow.
“You know what’s in that scroll?”
“Of course!” Sasuke straightened and puffed out his chest. “I’ve read the entire Academy library! The History of the Hokage says it holds the most dangerous jutsu. Techniques so powerful they could destroy the world.”
Fugaku nodded.
"That’s partially true. But first and foremost, those techniques could destroy Konoha itself."
Sasuke frowned.
"How’s that?"
"For example, there’s a jutsu called Edo Tensei. It allows you to summon dead shinobi from the afterlife and force them to fight on your side."
"That’s… creepy. But also effective," Sasuke said cautiously.
"Yes, that’s a good description," Fugaku replied, a weight of approval in his voice. "But now picture this: the battlefield is still warm, the ground soaked in blood, bodies—both friend and foe—strewn everywhere. And you step forward. Form the seals. The dead rise—not with will, but with power. They stand. They obey. They march into battle. Obedient, unfeeling, terrifying. An army that fears neither pain, nor death, nor defeat."
He glanced at Sasuke—who held his breath, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement.
"With an army like that, you could win any war. Instantly." Fugaku's voice lowered. "But the moment you claim your first victory… the world will stop seeing you as human. Every village, even enemies among themselves, will unite. Their shinobi will form a single army—with one goal: to destroy you. And Konoha with you. So that no necromancer ever rises again."
"Oh…" Sasuke shivered slightly, his gaze losing some of its defiance. "And all the jutsu in that scroll are like that?"
"All of them," Fugaku confirmed, meeting his son's eyes. "They’re not toys. Not flashy moves for showing off. They’re end-of-the-world weapons. And you must treat them like the fate of the world depends on your choices—because it does."
Sasuke slumped, shoulders dropping.
"Man…" he muttered. "I really thought… I hoped you’d show me something epic."
Fugaku gave a faint smirk, folding his newspaper.
"So, what now?" Sasuke asked. "If the scroll’s off-limits, what path should I take?"
"That’s for you to decide," Fugaku replied calmly, rising from the bench. He glanced at his watch. "I can’t choose what you’ll become. But I can show you different roads—if you’re ready to pay attention."
He took a few steps, then looked back:
"A new batch of serum will finish brewing in five minutes. If you want, you can come to the lab with me. Help out. Observe."
Sasuke nearly jumped in place.
"You mean that lab? The one you always lock up when I try to peek in? Absolutely!"
He caught up in two quick hops, and together they vanished into the shadows of the corridor.
///
Winter had descended on Konoha quietly and solemnly. Snow blanketed the village in a soft, even layer, and the night sky sparkled with stars and bursts of festive fireworks. The Uchiha compound glowed with warmth, light, and the scent of food. Around the long table, nearly buckling under the weight of the feast, the entire family had gathered.
Fugaku sat at the head of the table, his back to the window. Mikoto sat beside him. On his left—Itachi and Shisui; on his right—Sasuke, Hikari, and Reibi. Even Reibi had her own high chair now, letting her reach the table and join the family conversations as an equal. Her tiny wings fluttered whenever she turned her head to sniff the food with delight.
"This past year," Fugaku said, raising a cup of sake, "we’ve been through a lot. Victories. Threats. Secrets. And yet—we’ve remained a family. We’ve grown stronger. Closer. And we still keep Konoha in order. For that—I thank you all."
He took a sip, and the table erupted into a chorus of toasts, clinking glasses, and cheerful voices. Sasuke excitedly recounted how he caught the fastest cat in the world on his first C-rank mission. Hikari quietly showed off her new archery glove. Shisui handed out handmade gifts to everyone. Even Itachi allowed himself a small smile as he watched it all unfold.
Mikoto, smiling, tapped her glass with a spoon to draw attention. Her face glowed with inner calm.
"I’d like to say a few words about our friends—the bats," she began. "Like them, we live in the dark. We gather resources, power, wealth. But we always remember what matters most—family."
She gently rested a hand on her stomach and, a little shyly, added:
"I’m pregnant."
The pause lasted only a second—but then, like a spark, noise erupted around the table.
“What?!” Shisui gasped, practically jumping out of his seat. “Can we already find out what it’ll be? A boy or a girl?”
“Idiot,” Itachi muttered, not looking up from his plate, though there was warmth in his voice. “You can’t tell the sex until at least the sixth month. Mom’s not even showing yet.”
“And what would you all prefer?” Mikoto asked gently, glancing at the children. “A little brother? Or a sister?”
“A sister,” Hikari answered without hesitation.
“Why?” Sasuke squinted at her, surprised.
Hikari crossed her arms and looked down at her brothers with a smug expression.
“Because you all already have a sister—me. But I don’t have one. That’s unfair.”
Reibi flapped her wings and lifted her head proudly.
“Boy? Girl? What’s the difference? What matters is that they awaken a Mangekyō Sharingan… and that they taste delicious.”
Laughter rippled around the room. The mood turned light, warm, almost weightless. Everyone spoke at once, laughing, teasing, imagining the future.
Everyone—except one.
Fugaku was silent. His face unreadable. His gaze heavy. He sat as if not among them, but elsewhere—somewhere lost in shadows no candlelight or family warmth could reach.
“Beloved,” Mikoto said quietly, turning to him. “Aren’t you happy?”
He looked up. Slowly. Coldly. And replied in a rough, hoarse voice:
“I’m happy. Very.”
“Doesn’t look like it…” Mikoto frowned.
He exhaled slowly. His hand clenched into a fist on the table.
“I’m just… always preparing for the worst. Every time I’m content—when I feel peace, happiness—something terrible happens. It was like that with Orochimaru. With Danzo. I don’t ask if anymore. I ask when.”
“Darling…” Mikoto reached for his hand. “Don’t spiral. It’s just coincidence.”
She didn’t get to finish.
The air in the house shivered—and in the next instant, a sharp clicking sound rang through the corridors.
The alarm had triggered.
Fugaku stood up almost at the same moment—not with panic, not with a leap, but with lightning certainty, like a warrior who had spent his whole life waiting for the call to battle. With a single motion, he slapped his palm against the nearest wall, disabling the seal to avoid waking the entire district.
“I knew it…” he muttered, voice low and strained, barely containing the rage. “Obito’s returned to Konoha.”
Silence fell around the table. Heavy—like the stillness before an earthquake.
“Wait…” Shisui leaned forward. “You’re sure? Why him?”
“There’s a rare type of insect used by the Aburame clan. If it tastes a person’s chakra even once—it remembers it. Forever. It will react to that chakra for the rest of its life.”
He turned toward them.
“I extracted a sample of Obito’s chakra from his eye and fed it to one of those insects. It lives in the basement, connected to a sensory seal. When Obito approaches—the bug’s wings start to tremble. Just now, it went berserk. That means the target is within a two-kilometer radius. Obito’s here.”
Fugaku swept the room with his gaze.
“Everyone—you have two minutes. Full combat mode.”
Sasuke jumped up from his seat. Hikari darted off to retrieve her bow. Itachi rose in silence, taking the medical kit. Even Reibi, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, launched from her chair, her wings trembling ominously.
But before anyone could reach the door—the space above the table rippled, twisting into a spiral. A vortex of chakra bloomed like an open mouth. And from it—one by one—six figures emerged.
They stood on the table as if it were a stage.
Six of them. Cloaked in red clouds.
The Akatsuki.
Fugaku didn’t flinch—his eyes immediately scanned the faces, recognizing each one.
Blue hair, a paper flower tucked behind the ear, a cold stare: Konan.
A mad grin, triple-bladed scythe slung across a shoulder, ash-gray hair: Hidan.
Lifeless eyes, crimson hair, chakra threads on his fingers: Sasori.
Long blond hair, mocking eyes, mouths on his palms: Deidara.
Shark-like face, a killer’s gaze, massive frame with a sword wrapped in bandages: Kisame.
And the last one. An orange, spiral-patterned mask with a single eye: Obito.
“Oh,” Obito said as he stepped on a salad bowl, which crunched underfoot. “Looks like we ruined your evening.”
“Tobi, stop clowning,” Sasori said coldly, not taking his eyes off Fugaku. “Our leader tolerated your interference for too long. You tarnished Akatsuki’s reputation. You killed Kakuzu. And now… you dared to step into Ame. You’re hunting Pain. You’re going where you shouldn’t. That’s why we came—to kill you.”
His eyes shifted to Fugaku’s family.
“All of you. As a warning to the rest.”
Fugaku stepped forward. His fists clenched slowly, and the shadow beneath him seemed to deepen.
"You… came to threaten my family… in my house…" His voice was filled with fury. "And you expect to leave alive?"
He shot forward like a projectile, and before anyone could react, he slammed his fist down on the table—more precisely, on Obito standing atop it.
In an instant, all the Akatsuki scattered in different directions, as if they'd anticipated the strike. All—except one. Obito remained where he stood, nonchalant, relying on his Kamui—his intangible form.
Mistake.
Fugaku's fist didn’t pass through him. It connected with a crack—shattering the mask on impact. Obito was sent flying backward, crashing into the wall hard enough to make it shudder. Fragments of the mask scattered across the floor.
"Ha!" Deidara’s voice rang out. "I told you he was ugly under the mask! Look at him—his face's all squashed like a smashed tomato!"
Obito staggered to his feet, teeth clenched, blood trickling down his cheek, his hand trembling.
"How..." he hissed. "How did you bypass my Kamui?!"
Fugaku didn’t look away. He took a step back and pointed toward the window.
"Look."
Obito glanced sideways. A crimson glow pulsed along the perimeter of the compound.
"A barrier," Fugaku said. "Protocol: Siege. Developed after years of studying your second eye—the one you left with Kakashi. Inside this fūinjutsu, your spatial-temporal techniques don’t work. No phasing. No teleportation. You’re stuck here. All of you."
The Akatsuki stiffened. The bravado they’d arrived with vanished.
Deidara was no longer smirking.
Hidan was already swinging his scythe, eyes darting around.
Kisame drew his sword.
Even Konan was slowly unfolding her paper wings.
"You thought..." Fugaku growled, taking one step after another, "that I’d be defenseless in my own home? That my children are just children? That I wouldn’t prepare for the moment scum like you would try to ambush us during a family dinner?"
He raised his arm—and behind him, Mikoto, Itachi, Hikari, Shisui, and Sasuke stood in a line. Sharingan eyes glowed in each of them.
"You came to kill. But you walked into a trap. This will be the last mistake you ever make… in this life."
Comments
Dylan S
Hidan will be the perfect subject.
Great Ender
Lol .. to give Tobi and red cloud gang some credit, this dinner surprise attack world have worked on anyone in world except Batman. He lives in realized paranoia with effectively unlimited funds. The only attack he has not prepared for is the ones from bodysnatching , mind swapping, betrayal . Even those are now covered due to Orochimaru events and the mind jutus clans.
