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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 48
🕑 Added 2025-07-15 17:56:13 +0000 UTCFugaku and Mikoto walked side by side down one of Konoha's bustling streets. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, casting sharp shadows across the cobblestone road. People went about their business, but the moment anyone’s gaze landed on Mikoto — their behavior shifted.
Shinobi who met her eyes gave her subtle nods, as if acknowledging her status. Civilians offered kind words, as if they knew her personally. And children stared at her with true reverence. A few girls even argued amongst themselves over who resembled Mikoto more.
And Mikoto was enjoying the fame she had gained. Just a week ago, she had been a modest wife, a caring mother, a housewife whose opinion rarely left the kitchen. Now the whole village knew her name. Now she was the Snake-Slayer. A heroine of Konoha.
Fugaku walked with a straight back, hands clasped behind him, his face impassive.
"Don’t get used to it," he muttered, not breaking stride. "Same thing happened to me after the Raikage incident. One week of fame — then silence."
Mikoto gave a soft huff, half amused, half affectionate. She fell into step with him, casting a sly glance his way.
"Didn’t it flatter you, though?" she smiled. "Walking the streets while everyone looked at you with admiration. Whispering, ‘That’s him! The one who beat the Raikage!’"
"It did," he admitted, reluctantly. "But it got old fast. Admiration dulls awareness."
"Your fame will soon be permanent," she said, mock-formally bowing her head. "Lord Hokage."
"That’s not confirmed yet," Fugaku snorted quietly. "The Daimyō still has to sign the decree. Until then, I’m just a candidate."
"But you said Hiruzen’s backing is decisive," Mikoto sing-songed, leaning in closer, almost tender. "And he’s already made up his mind. Not to mention your tax contributions to the Land of Fire’s budget are massive. The Daimyō would be a fool to refuse."
"Maybe," he nodded after a pause. "But best not to speak of it. Not until the official announcement."
Their conversation faded as they turned onto a quieter street, leading away from the village center. The familiar landscape shifted. Cafés and shops gave way to temporary housing blocks — buildings for shinobi without permanent homes. A dusty, gray five-story complex.
Fugaku studied the building with a measured gaze. He knew this was where Naruto would’ve lived — completely alone — if he hadn’t intervened. The boy would’ve rotted here.
Mikoto knocked on the door of a third-floor apartment. No response. She knocked again — louder, more impatient.
"I’m off today, assholes!" came an irritated female voice from inside, followed by the click of a lock. "Get the he—"
She didn’t finish. The door opened — and she froze.
Anko Mitarashi stood on the threshold, caught in awkward silence. She wore a baggy t-shirt that read Eat a Snake and short house shorts. Her violet hair was tousled, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. Her eyes widened as she recognized Mikoto.
"We didn’t come with an invitation," Mikoto said calmly, as if she hadn’t just heard the cursing. "But it’s urgent."
"Uhh…" Anko stepped back, rubbing her neck. "Sure, come in. Just... don’t judge me too hard, I kinda… it’s messy."
The apartment was typical for a lone shinobi — one room, low ceiling, worn-down walls. Empty ramen containers littered the floor along with scattered scrolls. A bag of dirty laundry slumped in a corner. The air smelled of eggs and coffee.
"Who's there?" came a voice from the kitchen.
Kakashi stepped into view from behind a doorway — without his mask. A pan of sizzling eggs in his hands, steam rising into his face, making his hair stick to his forehead. He looked... domestic. Comfortable. Almost happy.
Since taking guardianship of Naruto, he had climbed out of a long depression and begun noticing the people around him. His presence in the same apartment with Anko left no doubt about the nature of their relationship.
Fugaku’s and Kakashi’s eyes met. Kakashi had still not forgiven him for taking Obito’s Sharingan — and had no intention of doing so.
"I’ll walk the dog," Kakashi said curtly, turning toward the door. "Pakkun, with me."
With a muffled snort, a pug darted out from under the couch, stretched lazily, and plodded after Kakashi. He left, shutting the door behind him.
"So it’s true—you really killed Orochimaru," Anko breathed, staring at Mikoto as if seeing her for the first time. There was no hiding the awe in her voice. "I knew it the moment I saw his Kusanagi with you. That old snake would never part with that sword willingly. He wouldn’t even let me, his own student, touch it. Guarded it like a lover."
Mikoto gave a slight smirk and winked mischievously.
"Orochimaru didn’t want to let go of his beloved even in death. I had to pry Kusanagi from his cold, dead fingers."
Anko snorted, but the amusement faded quickly as Mikoto stepped closer and spoke in a lower, more businesslike tone:
"But I’m not here to brag. Orochimaru told me something before he died. A way to remove your cursed seal."
Like a lightning strike. Anko recoiled a step, staring at her in disbelief.
"No way—seriously?!" Her eyes widened, her voice teetering between hope and fear of being misled. "Are you for real?! How’d you make him tell you?"
"Sharingan," Mikoto answered calmly, as if explaining how to brew tea. "If you catch a shinobi’s gaze in the moment before death, you can glimpse into their memories."
"Holy shit," Anko whispered. "Mom, please reincarnate me as an Uchiha..."
Fugaku, standing quietly in the corner, stifled a smirk. To ordinary shinobi, the Sharingan was still a mythical artifact—more legend than reality. And that suited the Uchiha just fine. Any bluff could be passed off as a "special ability of the magic eyes."
"Are you ready?" Mikoto asked, her tone now stripped of levity or flirtation—only quiet resolve remained.
Anko nodded immediately.
"Of course. I hate this thing on my neck. I would’ve cut it out with a scalpel myself, but that didn’t help."
Without a word, Fugaku began clearing the empty containers off the floor, making space.
Meanwhile, Mikoto pulled out a long scroll. As she untied the cords and unfurled it, an unpleasant smell of snakeskin spread through the room. One of Orochimaru’s scrolls, taken from one of his many hidden caches.
Anko sat cross-legged on the floor, swept her hair aside, and pinned it up. At the nape of her neck, just above the spine, the black cursed seal was clearly visible—three tomoe enclosed in a circle.
Mikoto formed hand seals. Her chakra pulsed, flooding into the scroll, activating the intricate script of a fūinjutsu. Then she stepped closer and gently placed her palm on the back of Anko’s neck.
And then it began.
The seal stirred. As if it had come alive. Black lines slithered outward, coiling, twisting into one shape—and with a hiss, they tore out of her skin, forming a small white snake. The creature didn’t resist—on the contrary, it reached toward Mikoto. She didn’t flinch, opened her mouth, and let the snake slip inside.
Anko only felt cold. The snake leaving her body, the seal vanishing—and she just sat there, head bowed, unsure of what exactly was happening.
"It’s done," said Mikoto.
Anko sprang to her feet, stumbled over the scroll, but rushed to the mirror hanging by the door. She raised her hand to her neck—and gasped.
Her neck was clean. No trace of the mark. As if it had never been there.
"HOLY SHIT!" she shouted, spinning around. "This is... damn! I thought I’d be stuck with that crap for the rest of my life. Thank you! Thank you, Mikoto-sama!"
She gave a clumsy, almost awkward bow. It was clear she wasn’t used to doing it—her back arched weirdly, her hands clenched into fists, and the bow itself was rough. But it was genuine.
"Take care of yourself, Anko," Mikoto said softly. "You’re free now. I know how much that means."
Fugaku simply nodded, and the couple stepped out the door.
///
Mikoto walked through the streets of Konoha beside Fugaku—not pressed close, but not distant either. Between them was the quiet understanding of two people who had weathered much together.
"What now?" he asked.
Mikoto pressed a finger to her lips in thought, as if trying to piece all her thoughts together.
"That was the last fragment of Orochimaru’s soul," she said, eyes looking ahead. "Now all his backup plans are dissolved inside me. We’ve cleared out his stashes and destroyed his labs. Only one project remains—his hidden village. He planned to establish it in the Land of Rice. He sent a recon team there before the child abductions. But I think his people already know he’s dead. They’ve probably scattered—like rats from a sinking ship."
Fugaku nodded. His face remained stern, but a flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes — a finished mission was always worth acknowledging.
“So you don’t have any active assignments at the moment,” he concluded. “Hiruzen told me the Daimyō is delayed. The audience will be in a week. In other words, I’m free too.”
Mikoto turned to him, raising an eyebrow. There was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze.
“Once I take the Hokage mantle,” Fugaku continued, “there won’t be any free time. I’ll bury myself in work. Every day — sorting missions, re-evaluating every shinobi, reassessing old alliances. I’m not going to continue Hiruzen’s system — I’ll build my own. Eventually I’ll delegate, but at first I’ll be working around the clock. So this week, I want to spend with you.”
Mikoto froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught slightly. Her heart beat a little faster than she liked.
“You’re serious?” she whispered, already knowing the answer.
“We never had a honeymoon,” Fugaku said calmly. “You didn’t ask for one, and I assumed you didn’t want it. But now — we can make up for it. Let’s go to the Land of Hot Springs. Just you and me.”
“That’s so romantic,” Mikoto drawled in a sing-song voice, before suddenly activating her Sharingan. “Now tell me who you are and what you’ve done with my husband.”
Fugaku crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her serious face. He noticed the slight twitch of her lips, betraying the laughter she was trying to hold back.
“Darling, we’ve been married for nearly fifteen years,” Mikoto continued with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’d sooner believe the Sage of Six Paths possessed you than believe you’re voluntarily planning a week at the beach and romantic festival strolls. So—what business do you have in the Land of Hot Springs?”
“Sharp as always,” Fugaku chuckled. “I was going to combine business with pleasure. I recently received scrolls from the Hokage’s advisors with coordinates for an ancient artifact of our clan. There’s not much info, but the chronicles say even Hashirama Senju retreated when the Uchiha brought out this weapon.”
“A weapon last seen before Konoha was founded,” Mikoto murmured thoughtfully, recalling clan history lessons. “Didn’t the Senju clan destroy it?”
“That’s what I thought too. But turns out they just hid it — in the Land of Hot Springs — to use it for themselves.”
“So our ‘romantic getaway’ is really an adventure mission with a good chance of running into traps,” Mikoto smirked, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Ancient weapon search, seal deactivation, and maybe a brawl with Senju’s wood-style guardians. You really know how to seduce a woman.”
“I know it’s not the honeymoon you dreamed of,” Fugaku said seriously. “You can stay home if you want.”
“Are you kidding?” Mikoto stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “This is better than what Kushina got. I’m already packing my gear.”
///
At family dinner, while the soup and rice still steamed on the table, Fugaku spoke in his usual calm voice:
“Your mother and I are leaving for a week.”
He took Mikoto’s hand — not for show, but simply as someone who no longer wanted to hide his feelings or intentions. The boys exchanged glances, surprised at first — then they started grinning.
“Took you long enough,” Shisui said, giving a thumbs-up. “Trips like this usually end with a new family member. If so, I’ll watch over our little sister.”
“Young man, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mikoto said with mock dignity, lifting her chin — though her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Can I come with you?” Sasuke asked immediately. “Naruto’s not back yet and I’m bored.”
Fugaku and Mikoto exchanged a look. He was about to answer, but Itachi beat him to it:
“No, Sasuke. This trip is just for adults,” he said gently but firmly. “But I’ll train with you. Deal?”
Sasuke brightened instantly and nodded eagerly.
“I have a favor to ask,” Fugaku continued, shifting to a more businesslike tone. “While I’m away, someone needs to oversee the construction of the new house. I can’t leave a shadow clone — I’ll need the chakra. One of you will have to take over.”
“Count me out,” Shisui said, crossing his arms. “I’m at the police station from dawn till dusk, and my clones are holed up in a bat cave learning Tsuchigumo clan’s fuinjutsu. It’s insanely hard. But also insanely cool.”
“You’ve chosen a truly unique style,” Fugaku nodded approvingly. “Combat fuinjutsu is rare, but incredibly useful.”
He turned to Itachi, expectant.
“I won’t be able to either,” Itachi said calmly. “This week I’m training under Tsunade. She’s leaving soon, and this is my only chance to learn her rare techniques.”
“Wait, what?” Shisui raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She doesn’t take students. How’d you pull that off?”
“I reminded her of her debts,” Itachi admitted coolly. “Mother saved her teacher. Father recovered her old promissory notes. I hinted that, for the honor of the Senju clan, she ought to pay them back.”
“Aha, so your parents paid for your education,” Shisui sneered playfully. “Just like a proper child of the elite. You think one week is enough to learn everything Tsunade knows?”
“With my Sharingan, one hour would be enough,” Itachi replied evenly. “What I’m really worried about is spending four days dragging her out of taverns, and the other three treating her hangovers.”
Fugaku shifted his gaze to Sasuke, who sat on the edge of his seat, practically bouncing with eagerness. He clearly wanted to be useful.
“Teyaki will oversee the construction,” Fugaku said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
He glanced out the window. In the garden, beneath the shade of a tree, Teyaki — Uruchi’s husband, long retired but still sharp-eyed and capable — was tinkering with tools. Hearing the decision, he gave a brief nod, accepting the task without a word.
“Why didn’t you trust me with it?” Sasuke asked sadly, nearly sliding off his chair. “I’ve got a Sharingan too!”
“You don’t have the experience,” Fugaku said flatly. “You wouldn’t know good timber from wood that’ll rot in a year. I’m building a house that should stand for generations.”
Sasuke slumped. He turned away, staring at the table as if his mood had sunk straight into it. Mikoto looked at him with a gentle smile — she knew how hard it was for him to hear “no,” especially from his father.
“I’ll leave you a book on construction,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You’re bored anyway. Might as well fill in some knowledge gaps. Who knows — you might discover you’ve got a talent for architecture.”
Sasuke snorted, but the corners of his mouth twitched. The rejection stung, but the attention soothed.
///
The next morning, in the living room, surrounded by neatly packed scrolls and gear, Fugaku handed Mikoto a communication ring.
“It’s for your own safety,” he reminded her, looking at her the way a man does when he wants to be certain he can protect his wife even from afar. “You need to sign a contract with the bats.”
“I remember,” Mikoto replied with a faint smile and no trace of fear in her voice. She already held a kunai in hand and, without hesitation, pricked her finger. A few drops of blood landed on the scroll spread out on the table.
There, alongside the signatures of Fugaku, Shisui, Itachi, and Sasuke — hers appeared as well.
“Honestly, I’d have signed with them even without the emergency extraction ability,” she added, smearing the blood over the required section. “I’m used to fighting with summoning animals. But my snakes don’t answer anymore. Ever since Orochimaru’s death and his identity being erased… the contract is basically void.”
She paused, gazing at the scroll for a moment.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Mikoto went on. “Snakes are clever. If I kept summoning them in Orochimaru’s name, they might’ve suspected something.”
Fugaku nodded. The bat scroll now bore the names of everyone he held dear. They weren’t just a family anymore — they were a flock.
Behind them lay their home, their children, and Konoha. Ahead — hot springs, hidden traps, and a long-lost Uchiha artifact.
