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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 52
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 15:59:00 +0000 UTCThere was a festival in Konoha today—or at least, that’s how it was presented from the stage.
Flags bearing the emblem of the Leaf Village hung across the streets, stalls on every corner sold dango and traditional sweets, and children ran around in paper masks, chasing each other in mock battles. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and caramel, and over the plaza near the administrative building, flutes and drums played. But despite all the outward fanfare, something about this celebration felt… wrong. Tense. As if it was being held not to mark a victory, but to commemorate a surrender.
Today, Konoha was getting a new Hokage.
Shimura Danzo.
A name that meant absolutely nothing to most of the villagers. No heroic deeds, no famous battles. He wasn’t part of the celebrated veterans like Jiraiya or Tsunade. He wasn’t even in the Bingo Book. People whispered, glanced around, asked each other, “Who even is that?” They were used to Hokage being the strongest, the most glorious among them—a living legend. Not a ghost from the shadows no one had even heard of until yesterday.
But there were those who knew Danzo.
Fugaku Uchiha stood in the middle of the crowd, unmoving, like a stone. His broad shoulders blocked part of the view for those behind him, but no one dared complain. A look of tense contempt was frozen on his face, his lips pressed into a hard line. He knew exactly who Danzo was. A thief. A child killer. Filth.
Beside him, leaning on a cane, stood Hiruzen Sarutobi—the former Third Hokage. Unlike his successors, he was not standing on the platform beside the village’s new leader. And even that, in its quiet symbolism, spoke volumes.
“How did you let this happen?” Fugaku’s voice was low, but there was more ice in it than in a winter storm.
Hiruzen was silent for a few seconds, as if weighing whether it was worth replying at all. His face looked tired. The wrinkles stretched across his cheekbones seemed deeper than before.
“The Daimyo made the decision,” he finally said. “I went to the palace to begin discussing candidates. I opened my mouth—and he said Danzo’s name. Just like that. No explanation. None of my arguments mattered.”
“The Daimyo was threatened,” Fugaku didn’t even bother to phrase it as a question. He spoke like a judge delivering a sentence. “Danzo pressured him. Threatened him. Or blackmailed him.”
“Possibly.” Hiruzen frowned, staring down at his sandals. “It would be like him. He could’ve dug up some kind of dirt. He’s spent too many years in the shadows. Collected too much filth.”
Fugaku slowly turned to him. His almost-black eyes cut straight to the soul.
“You should’ve stopped this,” he said coldly. “You handed power to him yourself. If you had remained Hokage—even in name—this wouldn’t have happened.”
Hiruzen shook his head.
“You didn’t see what he’s become,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Danzo has changed. I don’t know where he was these last three years, but he came back different. Physically. Energetically. He’s stronger than I ever was. Even before my injury.”
“Oh, of course,” Fugaku said with grim sarcasm. “Instead of obeying your last order and spying on our enemies, he disappeared, went into hiding, and then came back with new power and a thirst for control. And you let it happen. You should’ve let Hiashi kill him three years ago, when there was still a chance.”
Hiruzen lowered his gaze. He didn’t speak—and in that silence, there was guilt.
At that moment, there was movement on the platform. The music faded. Heads turned upward. The crowd stirred, murmuring. A few children in the front row stopped playing and grabbed their parents’ hands.
A man stepped out from behind the stage.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Even bigger than Fugaku himself. He looked to be in his early forties, maybe slightly older. A powerful figure with thick black hair and a hard, rugged face. Dressed in a black cloak with wide sleeves, he looked like a god from ancient myth.
Fugaku frowned, tense, leaning forward slightly—as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“That’s Danzo,” Hiruzen whispered.
“Are you sure?” Fugaku’s voice dropped even lower, but the tension in it was rising. “He’s taller. Younger. Healthier. Where’s his scar?”
“It’s him,” Hiruzen replied quietly, almost sadly. “His chakra has changed. Cold. Oppressive. But he told me something only he and I knew. It’s definitely Danzo.”
Fugaku stared at the figure stepping toward the center. His fingers curled into a fist.
“And how did he explain all this?” he asked. “New body, new strength, new chakra?”
“He said it’s a hidden jutsu,” Hiruzen said wearily.
Fugaku snorted.
A child followed the new Danzo up onto the platform. At first glance—no older than ten. He moved quietly, almost gliding, barely making a sound on the wooden planks beneath his feet. His white hair was slicked back neatly. He wore a long white coat with a high collar that covered his neck and lower face, and his arms were wrapped in bandages. His gaze was that of an adult.
Fugaku tensed. He activated the Sharingan. He didn’t know who this was, but the appearance of a strange “child” beside the Hokage was never a good sign. His eyes scanned the bandages—and stopped. They were laced with fūinjutsu script. It was a deliberate seal, blocking chakra perception beneath them.
He shifted his gaze to Danzo. Danzo wasn’t hiding anything. His chakra was different—dense, cold, heavy as lead, yet saturated with power. Its level surpassed the Raikage. Even more than Kakuzu’s. And that was troubling.
“Who is that?” Fugaku asked grimly, his eyes never leaving the boy. “Don’t tell me Danzo managed to have a son.”
Hiruzen grimaced like he’d swallowed a bitter pill.
“That’s Hiruko. And he’s… forty years old.”
Fugaku wasn’t surprised.
“Hiruko was born weak, underdeveloped, physically useless in taijutsu. The only reason he got into the Academy was his intellect. After graduation, he was assigned to a lab. That’s where he met Orochimaru… He told me Hiruko died…”
Fugaku turned his head sharply, his voice suddenly hard as a fist slamming into wood:
“You didn’t check?”
“No.” Hiruzen stared forward, his face ashen. “I can’t personally verify every Konoha citizen.”
On the platform, Danzo had begun his speech. He spoke confidently, without haste. His voice was deep, almost hypnotic. He talked about duty. About protecting the village. About a new path for Konoha. People were listening, but not closely—the speech was too generic.
Fugaku wasn’t listening at all. His thoughts were elsewhere.
“Why is Hiruko concealing his chakra?” he finally asked. “If he’s just a scientist, why the theatrical disguise? That’s how a combatant behaves—not a librarian.”
Hiruzen exhaled. His shoulders sank, as if the years had finally crushed him.
“He and Orochimaru shared the same dream,” he said. “To surpass the limits of humanity. Orochimaru sought immortality. Hiruko—power. He wanted to become the pinnacle of evolution. And it seems… he found a way.”
Just then, Fugaku’s Sharingan caught movement in the crowd.
His attention shifted instantly, locking onto two approaching figures. Tall. Massive. They moved through the rows without any pretense of subtlety. People instinctively stepped aside, sensing danger.
Fujin and Raijin, Fugaku recognized them. His memory pulled up their dossiers instantly: brothers, known for exceptional physical strength, endurance, skin resistant to most weapons, and… complete lack of brains. Pure brute force, no brakes. Last reported—serving time in prison for… stealing a chicken.
And then one of them screamed, loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear:
“DIE, DANZO!!”
Both of them charged the platform.
The crowd gasped. Some tried to flee, others just froze. Jonin dashed forward, but—
What happened next was too fast. Even for the Sharingan.
Danzo—without blinking, without any change of expression—opened seven gates in a fraction of a second. No signs, no preparation. His muscles bulged, and chakra fractures spread across his skin.
A spinning back kick—with such speed and precision the air cracked like a whip. The legendary brothers, who had once taken Tsunade’s full-strength punches and survived, exploded into a crimson rain.
Silence fell. Heavy. Crushing.
And then, as if nothing had happened, Danzo continued speaking:
“I told you,” his voice was cold and calm, “I will not allow anyone to harm Konoha.”
The civilians erupted in screams and applause. Children clapped in delight, not fully understanding what had just happened.
“Cheap theatrics,” Fugaku said quietly. “Danzo sent them himself. It was all staged. He wanted to show what he’s capable of. To earn applause. To convince the weak he’s strong.”
“And he succeeded,” Hiruzen muttered. He scanned the crowd. The jonin looked disturbed. The clan heads were exchanging glances. In all their eyes was the same question: where did he get that much power?
Fugaku clenched his jaw. He had expected Danzo to return to Konoha with overwhelming strength—but opening seven of the Eight Gates without destroying his body… that was beyond any prediction.
///
Right after the inauguration, work began on carving the new face into the Hokage Rock. Stonemasons and sculptors had already settled firmly at the edge of the cliff, and with the dull clanging of tools, they started chiseling Shimura Danzo’s features into the mountain—imposing his authority on everyone through stone.
When Fugaku returned home, there was fury in his movements. His footsteps echoed through the corridors, driving his family members into the corners. Even Shisui didn’t come up with questions this time. Mikoto simply nodded in silence and went off to train with her sword. Everyone dispersed, each going about their own business as if nothing had happened. Itachi headed to the hospital. Sasuke was studying for his Academy entrance exam with his tutor, Ebisu.
Everyone—except one.
Hikari silently approached him, tugging at his sleeve. Gently, almost imperceptibly. Without a word, but with a clear message. She stood with a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver on her back—like a little warrior asking for permission to go to battle.
Fugaku looked at her—and understood instantly.
“You want to shoot?” he asked.
The girl gave a barely visible nod. The corners of her mouth twitched, but didn’t quite form a smile. It was more a flicker of relief. Fugaku gave his permission.
Even though he had already granted her full freedom—to do what she wanted, to become who she wished—he knew that Hikari still needed approval. Especially his. She was testing boundaries, searching for direction. She wasn’t just a child—she was a broken weapon only beginning to become human.
When they stepped outside, the fresh air cleared his head a little. The day was warm, bright, but joyless. Konoha carried on as if it hadn’t realized who now ruled it.
Fugaku walked in silence, and Hikari moved just off to the side, light and noiseless. He glanced at her gait—soft, balanced, almost feline. She moved with a hunter’s grace, entirely relaxed. She didn’t care who Danzo was or why it mattered. In her world, there were only targets, arrows, and the people she trusted. For now, that meant him, Mikoto, Shisui, Itachi, and Sasuke.
They passed the site of the future estate Fugaku had begun building—a new foundation for the family. The basement was already complete: reinforced stonework, security seals, and a private entrance to the lab. Now, a hundred workers were raising the aboveground floors. The hammering never stopped, even on weekends—Fugaku was paying triple for expedited construction, and no one complained. He had the money. And the purpose.
He paused, watching the workers. Some were fitting beams into place, others were mixing a new type of concrete—Fugaku’s own invention, five times stronger than standard. Everything was on schedule.
Uchiha Teyaki—Uruchi’s husband—approached them. A reliable man with experience in construction. Not a frontline shinobi, but attentive, hardworking. Most importantly, he had the Sharingan. That’s why Fugaku had assigned him to oversee the build.
“Good morning, Fugaku-sama,” Teyaki greeted him with a respectful bow.
Fugaku simply nodded in return.
“How’s the work progressing?”
“On schedule. We can move in within six weeks,” Teyaki reported. “Only ran into one batch of defective nails, but…”—he smiled briefly, the way clan members did—“our eyes don’t miss much.”
Fugaku nodded again, this time with a hint of approval. That was why he’d chosen him: trusted, sharp-eyed, dependable. Fugaku himself had no time for overseeing the construction—all his shadow clones were busy training in the bat caves.
He and Hikari finally arrived at the clan’s training field. The girl silently took her position before the targets. She pulled out an arrow, notched it to the string, exhaled.
The arrow hit dead center. Again. And again.
Fugaku sat down in the shade of a tree, watching her from the corner of his eye. The second, third, and fourth arrows landed in a tight cluster. He noted just how accurate her shooting was. Perhaps, she had real talent for it.
The rustle of grass pulled him from his thoughts.
He didn’t stand, didn’t move—just shifted his gaze. A man was approaching, with a lazy, almost slouching walk and his usual drowsy expression.
“I stopped by your house,” said Nara Shikaku as he came closer. “Mikoto told me you were at the training field. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Say what you came to say,” Fugaku replied calmly.
Shikaku wasn’t offended. On the contrary—the corners of his mouth twitched with the faintest smile. He sat down under a nearby tree, stretched out his legs, and folded his hands behind his head like it was just a casual stroll—not a conversation with the most dangerous man in the village.
Hikari cast a sharp, almost predatory look at the stranger. She didn’t move from her spot, but her back tensed. One glance from her father—and she’d have drawn her bowstring to a ready stance. But he gave no signal. Which meant everything was fine. The girl returned to her shooting.
“Nice place,” Shikaku remarked, looking up at the sky. “Cozy. Peaceful. Even the air smells different. Like pine and discipline.”
His gaze shifted to Hikari’s figure.
“I heard you took her in recently. Word is, you found her outside the village. She’s... what to you?”
Fugaku turned to him sharply. His voice was firm and final, like a sentence being handed down:
“Hikari is Mikoto’s and my daughter.”
Shikaku raised his brows, but said nothing.
Fugaku wasn’t about to leave room for gossip. He wouldn’t let anyone call Hikari a bastard, or Mikoto a naïve wife who’d been cheated on. They made the decision together. The papers were signed. Hikari was their daughter—officially and permanently.
“I came to hear your thoughts on everything that’s happening,” Shikaku said, changing the subject. His voice was lazy, but something behind it was sharper—careful probing. “I heard the position of Fifth Hokage was originally meant for you.”
Fugaku didn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the target where Hikari had just driven another arrow, nearly touching the previous one.
“Do I look like I’m smiling right now?” he asked darkly.
Shikaku smirked, stretched out, and leaned back in the grass like they were discussing the weather, not a shift in power.
“Well…” he pretended to think, “no, not really. Though with you, it’s hard to tell.”
He fell silent for a moment, giving Fugaku time, then went on:
“I’ve spoken with the other clan heads. Every single one of them would’ve backed your candidacy. Danzo… he may be powerful, but none of us trust him. He rules through fear. But you…” Shikaku glanced sideways, “you understand the difference. You intimidate your enemies—you buy your allies.”
Fugaku finally looked at him. A quick, piercing glance. He hadn’t expected the Nara to be this candid.
“So he’s blackmailing you,” he said coldly.
“Yes,” Shikaku replied without hesitation. “Blackmail. Threats to our children. Our clans. But we won’t tolerate it.”
He reached into the inner pocket of his vest and pulled out two scrolls, offering them casually, like snacks.
“There’s enough evidence here—sale of village secrets, human experimentation, coup attempts. More than enough for you, as former police captain, to execute Danzo legally. No trial needed.”
Fugaku didn’t reach for the scrolls. He gave them a brief glance, like he’d already read them.
“You and the other clan leaders have done your homework,” he said slowly. “So why haven’t you taken him out yet?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Shikaku admitted, eyes drifting toward the trees. “Believe me, I have. But after what he did to Fujin and Raijin today…” He shook his head. “We’re not ready for that level. If he really can open the Eight Gates without wrecking his body, that’s a power that will shake the shinobi world. Any attempt to kill him would end in slaughter.”
Fugaku listened in silence, his fingers slowly curling into a fist.
“But you’re different,” Shikaku continued. “You beat the Raikage. You destroyed Kakuzu. If you defeat Danzo, no one will question your right to the Hokage title. Everyone—without hesitation—will follow you.”
Fugaku gave a joyless smile.
“How convenient. I remove the man blackmailing you, do your dirty work… and in return, I get what was mine to begin with.”
He turned fully toward him, eyes narrowing.
“Take your scrolls back. I have more than enough evidence of my own. I don’t need your handouts.”
Shikaku wasn’t offended. He gave a small nod, as if he’d expected nothing less.
“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked with mild surprise. “You said it yourself—you have everything. Are you really okay with Danzo sitting in the Hokage’s chair?”
“No,” Fugaku said sharply. “But I never charge into a fight without knowing every variable. Just like with the Raikage—I need time. I need to study him. Find his weakness.”
He met Shikaku’s eyes—calmly, but with such force that even in the Nara’s perpetually sleepy gaze, tension flickered.
“So if you and your allies truly want to help me—keep pretending to serve Danzo. Obediently. Quietly. Until the moment I say enough.”
He stood, adjusted his sleeves, and looked over to Hikari—just as she loosed another arrow. Straight into the center.
“And make no mistake. That moment will come. Danzo will not rule Konoha. I will never allow a monster like that to lead the village my ancestors built.”
He turned and walked toward Hikari, leaving Shikaku sitting in the shade—alone with the wind, the sky, and his new thoughts.
Comments
Phantom knight who can’t think of a better nicknam
So someone got there hands on venom or something else happened but danzo’s fuck because Batman is preparing and planning this is not going to end well for Danzo
