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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 53
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 15:21:27 +0000 UTCOnly ten days had passed since Danzō Shimura became the Fifth Hokage — and that was enough for Konoha to become unrecognizable.
The streets were deserted.
A village once lively and bustling now felt frozen in a state of anxious anticipation. People only left their homes out of necessity — for hospital shifts, academy classes, or groceries — and returned immediately, not lingering for a second longer than needed. Conversations were short and quiet, as if every word could be used as evidence. Even glances had changed — wary, distant. As if the entire village had turned into one giant interrogation room.
The reason was simple and terrifyingly effective: the first decree of the new Hokage.
Any criticism of Danzō — even whispered in one’s kitchen — meant five years in prison. No proof was needed. A single report was enough. Even anonymous. Even false.
Fugaku knew how it worked. He had seen it before — in another life, in another country. And that was exactly why he had no intention of accepting it.
He had spent the last ten days underground, away from human eyes — in the bat cave. There he trained until exhaustion, deepening his bond with the bats, sharpening body and mind, and reinforcing control over his new form.
And now he had returned.
The summoning smoke dispersed over the tile. With a soft pop, Fugaku appeared in the middle of the kitchen. His cloak still fluttered slightly, and over his shoulder peered a creature — dark, winged, with leathery skin and large amber eyes. It was Keita, one of the bat scouts — loyal and fast. He let out a quick squeak and flitted away to the attic, where the familiar darkness and beams awaited him.
"Dear, you’re already back?" Mikoto said with mild surprise, not lifting her gaze from her nails. She sat at the table with a file in hand, shaping her feminine nails to perfection. "So, the training’s done?"
"Something like that," Fugaku replied shortly, staring out the window. His voice was calm, but steel laced each word. "I need a report. Everything that happened while I was gone."
He didn’t sit. Didn’t even take off his cloak. He simply activated the Ring of Will on his finger — and felt the others respond. One after another. Invisible threads of connection ignited — not in the air, but in the mind, linking the thoughts of his family into a single field.
Even here, in his own home, they couldn’t be certain they weren’t being listened to. But through the rings, they could communicate in perfect silence, without moving their lips, without changing their expressions, even while scattered across the village — or the world.
Climbing the stairs to his study, Fugaku felt the familiar signals. One — balanced, steady — came from Itachi. The second — prickly, impulsive — from Sasuke. The third — light as a breath before a shot — was Hikari. The fourth — serene and focused — Mikoto. And the last one was bright and alive, like a spark on gunpowder — Shisui.
Hikari responded first. He instantly recognized her tone — direct, dry, disciplined.
“I’ve been making daily rounds through the village,” she reported. Somewhere on a training field, an arrow sliced through the air and landed in a target with a soft thud. “Danzō’s shadow clones are everywhere. The hospital, the academy, the main street. They even come onto clan territory. Patrolling, scanning, arresting anyone who even seems discontent. No hesitation — straight to prison.”
Fugaku gave a bitter smile.
“So he rules through fear,” he said quietly. “Handles it all himself. Doesn’t trust ANBU or the police. Afraid of rivals.”
For a moment, his mind flicked back to a different life, when he had been mayor of Gotham. To protect the city from gangs and corrupt officials, he had often used fear. But he never terrorized innocent civilians.
Batman had become mayor to fight crime more effectively and maintain order.
Danzō fights innocent people — the very ones he swore to protect — just to cling to the Hokage’s seat.
“How many shadow clones?” he asked, cutting to the point.
“Eighty-seven,” Hikari reported precisely. “And that’s just the ones patrolling open areas. How many more are underground or beyond Konoha’s borders — unknown.”
“How many?!” Shisui’s voice rang out mentally from the police station, full of shock. “Are you kidding me? Is that even possible? Can a normal person have that much chakra?”
“I have the largest chakra reserve in Konoha,” Mikoto said calmly, as if commenting on something trivial. “And I can create a maximum of thirty clones. After that, I’m drained like a lemon. You can’t repeat something like this without an additional chakra source. I’d say… Danzō has become a jinchūriki.”
“That’s impossible,” Fugaku cut in. “I’ve sent bats to scout the entire world. Not a single Tailed Beast is missing. Every one of them is still in place.”
Silence fell. Only the faint mental presence of the others lingered. Mikoto went back to her nails. Shisui exhaled sharply—probably already cycling through lists of suspects on autopilot. Sasuke remained silent. So did Itachi, as if listening and waiting.
“How is he doing it, then?” Shisui asked. “Eighty-seven clones—that’s not just strange. That’s anomalous.”
“I don’t know yet,” said Fugaku, resting his elbows on the table. “But I’m sure it’s connected to how he suddenly got younger. Shisui, what have you found out?”
“Well... the atmosphere in Konoha right now feels like a trap,” Shisui said as he mentally joined the conversation. His voice was calm, but tension simmered underneath. “Fear everywhere. People aren’t afraid of criminals—they’re afraid of the Hokage.”
“I know,” Fugaku replied. “But I don’t need a general mood. I need facts. Specific orders. Specific actions.”
“Then listen,” Shisui sighed. “A couple days ago, Danzō came to the police station himself. Alone. No ANBU. Walked right into my office and handed me a new directive.”
“What kind?” Mikoto asked softly, pausing her file. She wasn’t pretending to care about her manicure anymore.
“From now on, anyone who breaks the law must be sent to prison. No exceptions. No temporary holding. No fines.”
“What do you mean, ‘anyone’?” Mikoto clarified. “Drunks used to be detained overnight, then released. Now they go straight to prison?”
“Not just drunks,” Shisui’s voice darkened. “Today I saw an old man get arrested for throwing trash in the wrong bin. No joke. Danzō is demanding a quota from the police: ten arrests per day.”
A short pause followed. No one interrupted. Even Hikari went still.
“And if we don’t meet the quota,” Shisui continued, “he hinted at a ‘loyalty check’ for the police force. Which means a purge. Anyone who doesn’t comply goes to prison.”
“That’s no longer just fear-mongering,” Fugaku said. “Danzō’s building something. He doesn’t just want control—he wants prisoners. Lots of them.”
A new voice broke the silence—young, alert, and slightly tense.
Sasuke.
He was only six, but through the Ring of Will he spoke with confidence, without a trace of childish hesitation. Maybe it was training. Or maybe it was because this was his home, and he knew now was the time to speak.
“I have intel,” he said from the backyard. His breathing was uneven—he’d just finished a set of exercises with the Henge technique, transforming into animals, neighbors, even one of Danzō’s clones. “I was heading home from training with Ebisu, and I passed by Sakura Haruno’s house…”
Fugaku gave a slow nod. He’d seen the pink-haired girl a couple of times with his son and Naruto.
“I heard a scream. Turned—and saw one of Danzō’s clones breaking down the door and storming inside. A few seconds later, he dragged Mrs. Haruno out onto the street. He shouted that there’d been an anonymous tip—that she’d spoken ill of him at the market. He didn’t even try to confirm it.”
“And where was Mr. Haruno?” Mikoto asked gently, already sensing where this was going.
“He attacked. Tried to stop Danzō. No weapons or ninjutsu, just his fists. And Danzō... he formed some kind of technique in his hand—and hit Sakura’s father in the stomach. He flew through a wall and didn’t get up. I think he has multiple fractures.”
“Oh God…” Mikoto looked away. “Sakura lost both her parents in one evening…”
“Did you record it, Sasuke?” Fugaku asked quickly, snapping back into tactical mode. “With your Sharingan?”
“Of course,” Sasuke nodded. “I did exactly like you taught me. I didn’t interfere—but I captured everything. In detail.”
“Then send us the memory. Full parameters: chakra levels, direction of the technique. Everything.”
The Rings of Will could transmit more than thoughts—they could share memories, sensations, even fragments of perception. Sasuke sent the memory fragment—and everyone connected to the link felt it instantly, as if they were there themselves.
A crash. A scream. The door torn off its hinges. A woman dragged outside, her cry abruptly cut off. A figure in a black cloak announces the sentence, ignoring Mrs. Haruno’s pleas, strikes her, and prepares to leave with her unconscious body slung over his shoulder.
Mr. Haruno charges in without hesitation. Fists clenched, his face twisted with rage. He leaps forward—only to be struck immediately.
Chakra condenses in Danzō’s hand into a dark sphere, its spinning rings howling like Saturn’s. The technique—something like a Rasengan, but twisted and cold—hits him. The man flies through a wall, crashing through wood and brick, leaving a trail of blood behind.
“That...” Mikoto breathed out, a chill running down her spine. “That chakra... it’s sticky, like slime. Cold. Makes you want to breathe less. Even Orochimaru’s chakra wasn’t this revolting.”
“Worse than Madara’s,” Hikari added from across the training field. “I only saw him once or twice, but I remember it. His chakra was terrifying, but understandable. This one feels like it belongs to something that shouldn’t exist in the shinobi world.”
Fugaku sat silently, saying nothing. He closed his eyes, focused, and sent the memory to an ancient ally — Bat-Kage. Perhaps he had encountered something like this before.
“What about you, Itachi?” Fugaku asked. “What have you found?”
“Bits and pieces,” Itachi said calmly. “I work at the hospital. And as you know, it’s a crossroads of lives. Patients, medics, shinobi from different units — it’s a constant stream of information. Even when no one speaks openly, there’s a lot to hear between the lines. Especially now, when fear has flooded the village.”
He paused, collecting his thoughts.
“Mr. Haruno survived, but he’s bedridden for at least six months. Danzō has introduced selective re-certification for shinobi. Anyone who fails — goes to prison.”
“Common traits among those selected?” Fugaku asked briskly. “There must be a pattern. Danzō doesn’t act randomly.”
“I’ve looked into it,” Itachi confirmed. “I don’t have the full picture yet. But everyone I knew personally had one thing in common: they were loners. No family. No protection.”
“Hm.” Fugaku clasped his fingers in front of his face. “So for now, Danzō’s avoiding direct conflict with clans. Targeting those who can’t fight back.”
“He fears open rebellion,” Shisui chimed in. “There are too many clans — each with their own resources, allies.”
“Most likely,” Fugaku agreed. “But that still doesn’t explain the bigger question: why is he gathering these people? What’s he doing with them in prison?”
“You think they’re not just sitting there?” Shisui asked with doubt. “I figured he was just trying to crush the village’s spirit. Scare everyone so badly that no one dares resist.”
“I would’ve thought the same…” Fugaku lowered his voice and paused, as if weighing whether to go on. “If not for one fact. Danzō’s not acting alone. He brought someone with him — a man named Hiruko.”
A heavy, almost suffocating silence fell.
“That researcher?” Itachi asked. His voice remained steady, but carried a note of caution. “Rumor was he disappeared years ago. Worked in Konoha’s shadows. Had a reputation as a recluse and bookworm.”
“My turn,” Mikoto spoke up. “I went through some of Orochimaru’s memory fragments — the ones I had access to after… well, you know. Among them was a file on Hiruko. Orochimaru didn’t see him as a rival — more of a colleague. In a way, even a kindred spirit. But where Orochimaru was obsessed with immortality, Hiruko sought power. At any cost.”
“What exactly did he do?” Itachi asked.
“He was developing a fusion technique — a direct symbiosis between living organisms,” Mikoto replied. “Hiruko was literally stitching animals and humans together. Flesh to flesh. He tried to create combat units that combined a beast’s strength with a shinobi’s intellect.”
“Real chimeras?” Shisui grimaced. “Same twisted taste as Orochimaru. Except Orochimaru had a snake theme, and this guy went full zoo.”
“Don’t interrupt,” Itachi cut in sharply, though without anger. He genuinely wanted to hear the rest. “Mom, go on.”
“These chimeras were massive, grotesque, dangerous, and unstable. Most of them died within a week. But a few prototypes survived. And Hiruko himself dreamed of something greater — merging the strongest shinobi with himself. Absorbing their abilities while preserving his own mind. Creating a perfect being.”
“Another mad scientist,” Sasuke muttered.
“According to Orochimaru,” Mikoto continued, “Hiruko believed he could capture the abilities of the five most powerful shinobi in the world. Unfortunately, he never said who they were.”
“You think he finished the project?” Shisui asked grimly.
“Considering his body is completely wrapped in bandages and no one can sense his chakra,” Fugaku interjected, “I think he’s become a monstrous chimera himself.”
A heavy silence followed. Everyone needed a moment to process what they’d just heard. Even the Rings of Will quieted, sharing the weight of the moment without words.
“What are you going to do, Dad?” Sasuke broke the silence. The question wasn’t a plea — it was a statement of recognition. He knew his father wouldn’t sit still.
Fugaku smirked. Cold, but focused. The smirk of Batman.
“What I always do,” he answered. “Take control of the situation.”
He stood up from the chair, his fingers brushing against the Ring of Will — and a spark of chakra surged through it like current through a wire.
“It’s time to visit the prison,” he added. “And find out what Danzō and Hiruko have turned it into.”
