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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 29. The Mangekyō Sharingan
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 17:30:52 +0000 UTCThe next day, exactly at noon, a small glass jar stood on Fugaku’s desk. It was filled with a thick, transparent liquid, and inside, like an ancient trophy, Obito’s Sharingan slowly rotated. Red, with three tomoe, it seemed to stare directly at Fugaku — silently, reproachfully.
Kakashi had left right after handing over the clan's belongings. Now he had two healthy eyes, a perfectly symmetrical face — even the old scar from brow to cheekbone had been erased by skilled surgeons. For the first time in years, he was “whole.”
But he didn’t look happy.
His mood had settled over the entire house like a fog.
For the next few days, meals in the Uchiha household felt like a formality. Words were spoken half-heartedly, voices fading before their meaning could take shape. Sasuke stared out the window with quiet longing, waiting for Naruto to visit. Mikoto smiled less often.
It felt as if Fugaku’s decision had broken something important. Maybe it had. But he had no doubts.
Everything changed when Shisui returned from his mission.
With him came laughter in the hallways again — jokes, playful shoulder taps, that mischievous glint in his eyes. It was as if someone had opened a window in a stuffy room and let the wind in.
And then, a day later, Itachi came back from his mission. All the sons were home — just as Fugaku had calculated.
The next morning, after breakfast, Fugaku pushed his tea cup aside and looked at his sons.
“Itachi. Shisui. We’re going to train. Now.”
They jumped to their feet and dashed to their rooms to change. Their father rarely made time for joint training these days, so this opportunity felt like a gift.
Shisui beamed, as always. Even the usually reserved Itachi looked pleased. They knew Fugaku never wasted time — if he called them out, it meant they would learn something new. Something useful.
Sasuke watched from his seat, a tight knot of envy forming in his chest.
“Dad, can I come too?” he asked, lips pressed together, trying to sound calm. But the yearning crept into his voice anyway.
Fugaku looked at him — those wide, black eyes full of hope. He already knew what he would say, and he knew it would sting. But he didn’t soften his words.
“No,” he said firmly. “I'll tell you the same thing I once told your brother Itachi: my training is advanced. Before you can join, you must master the basics. Finish the Academy. Only then.”
He leaned in slightly, his tone colder.
“If I have to teach you the multiplication table, that’s a waste of time. For both of us.”
Sasuke lowered his head. His shoulders twitched, but he quickly pulled himself together. When he looked up again, his eyes were different — stubborn, defiant.
“Then I’ll finish the Academy in one year. Just like my brothers.”
Fugaku snorted.
“Get in first.”
He turned to Mikoto.
“Your mother will help with your preparation.”
“Of course,” Mikoto replied automatically. She took off her kitchen apron like it was armor and headed for the bookshelf. Her movements were precise, devoid of emotion. She pulled out a beginner’s math textbook.
Fugaku met her eyes.
“I suggest you make the most of this time,” he said. “In a couple of days, Naruto will visit again. And then none of the boys will care about studying.”
Mikoto’s expression didn’t change. But in her eyes, for just a second, a spark flickered — joy. Quiet, warm, like the steady glow of a candle flame.
She knew that soon, the house would once again echo with happy, childish laughter.
///
The Uchiha training ground simmered with heat and ash. Under the noonday sun, the scorched earth radiated like a hot iron plate. All around were dark stains — remnants of past trainings: traces of fire techniques, charred patches of grass, melted stones.
Fugaku walked forward with steady confidence, two sons following. Shisui bounced lightly on his feet, a faint smirk on his face. Itachi moved with perfect posture, focused as always.
“I want you to put these on,” Fugaku said, stopping in the center of the field. He held out his hand, palm open.
Three black rings lay on it. Simple, unadorned.
Both boys, without a word, activated their Sharingan.
“It’s fūinjutsu,” Shisui spoke first, leaning in closer. “I can see a sealed circuit on the underside — almost airtight... But what’s the purpose? What does it do?”
“I’ve never seen this kind of design before,” Itachi added slowly, eyes still locked on the ring. “Not even in the Uzumaki scrolls stored in the ANBU archives.”
Fugaku gave a low hum.
“I’d be surprised if you had. This isn’t Uzumaki work. It’s my invention — a new method of instant communication. It transmits not just voice, but emotions.”
He studied them carefully.
“Try it.”
They put the rings on. Each one fit perfectly — Fugaku had forged them specifically for his sons.
“Testing. Can you hear me?” Fugaku projected the thought without moving his lips.
There was no verbal reply, but he could see by their expressions that the message had gone through. Shisui flinched slightly. Itachi blinked. The recognition in their eyes said it all — the link was established.
“I’ll explain,” Fugaku continued mentally. “Push chakra into the ring. Now purify it. Strip away everything — spiritual structure, physical, mental. Leave only one thing: your willpower.”
The boys focused. Their faces hardened, their gazes deepened. Their chakra shimmered and trembled — unstable at first, then gradually settling. After a few minutes, both of them synced with the channel. Their rings began to glow faintly, responding to the inner signal.
“So those extra kanji in the seal structure represent will?” Shisui sent out a thought-pulse filled with awe and wonder. “Honestly, this is… incredible. How did you come up with it?”
Fugaku didn’t answer. Just gave a short grunt.
He couldn’t tell them the truth. Couldn’t explain that this was an echo from another life. There, in a different world, just before his death, he had briefly held a Green Lantern ring. And in that moment, a surge of knowledge hit his mind like a flash — an instinctive understanding of how the device worked. Instant communication, spanning across the universe. The transmission of thoughts, data, sensations — all through will.
He couldn’t recreate the artifact here. The technology and material didn’t exist. But chakra and fūinjutsu gave him tools. He used them — and managed to recreate at least that one function.
“Transmission is instant,” he said, still mentally. “Range is planetary. It’s impossible to intercept.”
“And it barely consumes chakra,” Shisui thought in amazement. “This… this could change everything! Wireless communication through willpower… That’s genius!”
“For personal use only,” Fugaku cut in sharply. “We’re starting the training. Communication is ring-only. We’ll see how well you can maintain focus in combat.”
The sparring began.
Classic format: two against one. Shisui and Itachi versus Fugaku. A warm-up — no ninjutsu. Just the clash of kunai, punches, dodges, sweeps.
“I stopped by the Hokage’s office yesterday,” Shisui reported mentally, flipping through the air and hurling a kunai back at Fugaku. “We’re not exactly friends — age gap’s too big — but sometimes we play shogi.”
“You managed to beat him?” Itachi asked coolly as he slipped past a punch from his father that nearly grazed his cheek.
“Almost,” Shisui smirked. “But the game was just a pretext. He wanted to know why you took the Sharingan from Kakashi.”
“And what did you tell him?” Fugaku grabbed Itachi by the collar mid-movement, stopping him from dodging, and hurled him straight at Shisui.
But they were too coordinated. In midair, Shisui caught Itachi’s arm, spun him, and set him down gently. They activated their Sharingan almost in unison — synced like twins.
Now they moved as one. Fast. Strategic. Striking from the flanks, giving their father no room to breathe.
“I told him the truth,” came Shisui’s voice in their minds. “That I have no idea what’s in your head. That you’re always several steps ahead. He didn’t seem surprised. Just muttered, ‘So he decided to test his theory after all.’ What did he mean?”
“Later,” Fugaku responded mentally — and in that instant, a perfectly timed double sweep nearly took his legs out from under him.
He slid back, activating his Sharingan. His gaze turned ice-cold.
“What’s the mood in the village after my actions?” he asked, keeping his pace steady.
“No one really cares about Kakashi,” Shisui replied while expertly catching Itachi’s arms. With one fluid motion, he spun him mid-air like a battering ram — the younger Uchiha’s heels came flying straight toward Fugaku’s face.
Fugaku blocked just in time. Without the Venom steroid, that blow would’ve knocked him flat.
“He barely talks to anyone,” Shisui went on, not even winded. “Only the Hokage’s house showed a reaction. Kakashi’s depressed. Jiraiya’s furious, cursing nonstop. Naruto doesn’t understand a thing. Hiruzen, on the other hand, seemed calmer after I visited. I think he’ll talk to them soon — and Naruto will start coming over again.”
Fugaku stepped back, narrowly avoiding a hidden kunai that flew from Itachi’s sleeve — launched from a blind spot, aimed to pierce his neck. If not for the experience, it would’ve landed.
Once again, the three of them stood equidistant, as if by silent agreement. Faces tense, bodies coiled like springs. None of them showed signs of fatigue or frustration.
“These rings are brilliant,” Shisui smirked. “I can ramble on as much as I want and not worry about losing my breath. I could fight like this forever.”
“They weren’t made for you,” Itachi muttered, and even in the mental link, a subtle trace of jealousy slipped through. “I’m sure Father’s trying to pass something important on. Using the most secure line he can.”
“Oh really?” Shisui raised an eyebrow. “We could’ve just used genjutsu. That’s what Uchiha usually do when they want privacy.”
“Genjutsu isn’t enough if your enemy is another Uchiha,” Fugaku cut in. His mental voice hit like a strike. “It’s time we talked about the man in the orange mask.”
And the battle resumed.
Now chakra came into play. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Jutsu flashed one after another — bursts of fire, blades of wind, underground traps, feints and clones.
To a casual observer, it would seem like a deadly duel — each strike lethal. But the fight was only a cover. A veil. All three were masters, holding dual focus effortlessly: combat and conversation.
Without missing a beat, despite the dust and smoke, Fugaku shared everything he knew. He no longer doubted it — their true enemy was Obito Uchiha. All the signs pointed to him.
“So he showed up during the exam,” Shisui responded mentally, ducking under a strike from Fugaku and throwing a quick glance at Itachi. “I knew it. I knew from the start that your whole revenge path was nonsense. You just became a pawn in his game, brother.”
No answer came. Just a fireball erupting from Fugaku’s mouth, bathing the training field in crimson light.
Itachi reacted instantly: water release, a stream that doused the flames and turned them into clouds of steam. Shisui vanished into the mist without a sound.
“And you told Hiruzen,” Shisui continued. “That Obito wants to be caught. That the whole act is bait — a trap to draw attention. Is that true?”
“Everything about his actions screams it,” Fugaku replied calmly, hurling a kunai with an explosive tag. The blast tore through the fog. “The attack on Konoha with the Kyūbi — it was theater. He could’ve destroyed the village but didn’t. Didn’t want to. If he had, he would've teleported a million explosive tags into the village center. But instead — loud entrance, shouting, flashy displays of power. He wants to be seen.”
Fugaku stepped forward, Sharingan blazing as he searched for targets.
“And I became certain after analyzing his Sharingan — the one in Kakashi’s socket. The Mangekyō pattern is identical to the one described by the Kyūbi. And to what you saw yourself, Itachi.”
“Kakashi had… a Mangekyō?” Itachi asked mentally, his inner voice faltering. “A real, legendary Mangekyō — strong enough to control a Bijū? And Obito didn’t reclaim the eye? That’s… illogical. With his teleportation, he could’ve done it in a second.”
He fell silent for a moment, then slowly added:
“I’m starting to believe you, Father.”
“I just don’t get it,” Shisui said with doubt in his voice. “If you’ve suspected Obito for a while, why remove the Sharingan from Kakashi only now? That’s not like you, Fugaku.”
He kept a close eye on Fugaku — and finally noticed the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smirk.
“No way,” Shisui said, half suspicious, half impressed. “How long ago did you actually do it?”
“The day after we examined Obito’s fake grave,” Fugaku admitted calmly. “I caught Kakashi outside the village and poisoned him. Quietly. Then I removed Obito’s Sharingan — and replaced it with Kagami’s eye.”
Shisui froze. Even his movements stopped for a second.
“You… replaced his eye. And he didn’t notice?”
“Kakashi didn’t know he had awakened the Mangekyō,” Fugaku explained. “He never activated it consciously. He couldn’t tell the difference.”
“We have his tissue,” Itachi said coldly, not taking his eyes off his father. His Sharingan shimmered, ready for battle, but his voice remained steady and calculating. “Obito’s actual flesh. His chakra. That’s enough to cast dozens of tracking techniques. We can hunt him down… and go for his head today.”
He said it without bravado — with the calm of an executioner.
Fugaku gave a slight shake of his head.
“That’s exactly how we fall into his trap,” he cut in. His mental voice was firm as stone. “We don’t know what he’s planning. He might be insane. Or a genius. A manipulator playing ten moves ahead. He wants us to follow his trail. That’s why we won’t follow the breadcrumbs he left behind. I’ll find another way.”
“Then what do you suggest, Father?” Itachi asked. There was no defiance in his tone — only seriousness.
Fugaku paused before replying. Then, a grim smirk echoed in his mental voice:
“He wants us to find him? Then we’ll play along.”
Itachi and Shisui exchanged glances.
“I officially confiscated the Sharingan from Kakashi,” Fugaku continued. “I didn’t hide it. Which means Obito likely already knows. Maybe he was watching. Maybe he has informants. Perfect. Let him think I’m chasing his trail. A month from now, I’ll visit the Inuzuka clan — to negotiate using their tracking dogs. I’ll make sure it’s public. I’ll announce the hunt. Make noise. Put on a show. Stoke the flames.”
He clenched his fist.
“Let him watch. Let him observe. Let him think he’s in control. Meanwhile—we begin the real investigation. Quietly. Just the three of us. No one else.”
“Why?” Shisui asked, surprised. “We have the Hokage. We have Jiraiya. Those two are masters of destruction. Their attacks could level an entire village. Why not bring them in?”
Fugaku looked at him with the expression of someone who had been waiting for that question.
“Because only we possess what no one else in Konoha does,” he said, his voice low and heavy, like distant thunder before a storm. “The Mangekyō Sharingan.”
For a moment, everything went truly still. Even the sparring came to a halt. A faint wind swept ash and charred grass from the ground, as if nature itself had paused to listen.
Itachi and Shisui froze. Their faces remained calm, but subtle, nearly invisible changes betrayed them. Tensed shoulders. A slight tightening of their jaws. An inward response they hadn’t expected.
“Don’t be surprised I know,” Fugaku continued. “I’m your father. I watch you. I understand what stirs inside you. You’ve both awakened that cursed power. And you don’t have time to deny it. Because our enemy—he’s a Mangekyō wieler too. And only we can stand against him.”
They nodded slowly. For the first time—without argument.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever read Madara’s old writings,” Fugaku said, his voice calmer now, almost with weary certainty. “But the Mangekyō Sharingan has three core techniques. Three pillars of power that can alter the course of any battle:
Susanoo — the ultimate armor.
Amaterasu — flames that burn anything they touch.
And Tsukuyomi — a genjutsu where time and space are nothing but toys in the user’s hands.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“The last two can’t be dispelled. Only another Mangekyō user can cancel them. No jutsu, no seal, no force of will—nothing can save you. Only an eye of equal power.”
He looked at his sons. Now not just as a father—but as a commander. As a strategist.
“That’s why building an army is useless. Not even the Hokage, not even the Sannin, not a thousand shinobi can do anything if he activates Tsukuyomi. One look—and it’s over. They’ll be broken. Then burned in black fire.”
“You mean…” Shisui was the first to speak again, “…even a Kage would be powerless?”
“Exactly,” Fugaku nodded.
He stepped closer to them. There was no pomp in his voice, no threat—only unshakable resolve.
“And only we can survive that fight. Only the three of us.”
Comments
Jan
Seriously. In the Third Databook, pages 274-275, it is stated that the Susanoo, Amaterasu, and Tsukuyomi techniques can be learned by anyone with the Mangekyo Sharingan. These are not unique techniques to Itachi. So, in theory, Obito can learn them.
Miz0r3
Seriously? Obito don't have Tsukuyomi.... And you said you know Naruto. All MS possess the Susanoo, yes. But no, not all MS possess Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi. Every MS possess their OWN ABILITIES. Sasuke: Amaterasu (Both Eye) - Kagutsuchi (Right Eye) Itachi: Tsukuyomi (Both Eye) - Amaterasu (Right Eye) Obito: Kamui (Both Eye (Left (Long-Range) and Right (Close-Range)) Shisui: Kotoamatsukami (Both Eye) Shin: Objects Telekinesis (Rigth Eye) Sarada: Ōhirume (Both Eye?) Indra: Hinokagutsuchi (Left Eye) - Amaterasu (Both Eye) ? (Not sure) Hagoromo: Unknow Madara: : Unknow Izuna: Unknow Fugaku: Unknow
fine
Beating madara
