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Batman in Konoha. Chapter 20. The Price of Peace
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 19:00:20 +0000 UTCFugaku was training with a weighted barbell in his private gym, a space isolated from noise and prying eyes. The room pulsed with a steady rhythm — heavy breathing, the creak of metal, and the thud of plates hitting the floor.
Sweat streamed down his bare shoulders, thick drops tracing the curves of tense biceps. Each set was punctuated by a sharp exhale and a low, echoing crash — weight plates, inscribed with fuin seals for added heaviness, slammed down with force enough to leave shallow dents in the reinforced floor. Even the foundation had been strengthened to endure this punishment.
When the door cracked open, he didn’t so much as glance back. He only registered the familiar silhouette from the corner of his eye. Mikoto entered with a brief, almost formal bow and said quietly:
"Fugaku, we have a guest. The Hokage-sama."
She stepped aside, and Hiruzen Sarutobi entered — dressed in his usual cloak, wearing his ever-contemplative expression. Mikoto exited without a word, leaving them alone. Fugaku didn’t pause for a second. His muscles burned, heart pounded in his chest, but he continued.
"That’s a serious weight," Hiruzen remarked, eyeing the bar. "I see you're doing more than just staying in shape. I heard you trained with Might Duy once. Even ran laps around the Uchiha compound. Though… only for two days."
Fugaku said nothing. He lifted the bar, held it for a second, and lowered it. No confirmation, no denial — and that was an answer in itself.
He had trained with Duy for just two days. It was enough to copy techniques the man had spent years refining. He had seen, with his own eyes, how the Gates were activated. How the body moved when pushed to the brink. After that, there was nothing more Duy could teach him.
"I know you're studying the Eight Gates technique," Hiruzen said more directly now, eyes carefully watching him.
"I'm not hiding it," Fugaku replied curtly, never breaking rhythm.
"I'm not accusing you," the old man said gently. "We're all shinobi, after all. The desire to grow stronger isn’t a crime. Especially when you didn’t… let’s say, steal the technique — but acquired it. Gai’s dowry, if I recall, cost you a small fortune."
Then his tone shifted, more serious now.
"But you do understand why that technique is classified as forbidden, don’t you? Why they don’t even cover it in theory at the Academy?"
Fugaku didn’t dignify the foolish question with a response.
Of course he had studied it. Thoroughly. First in theory, then on his own body. He knew every hidden trap, every risk.
First — each Gate damages the body. It’s not mere enhancement; it’s controlled destruction. Even opening the First Gate unleashes power that the human body was never meant to handle. If Might Guy needs time to catch his breath after the First, what about the rest? Holding the Gates open for too long means burning yourself alive from the inside out.
Fugaku, thanks to Venom, could bypass some of the consequences. After opening the First Gate, he needed no rest at all. But even with that enhancement, the Third Gate brought problems. Veins bulged, vision pulsed, joints throbbed with pressure.
Second — loss of chakra control. The overwhelming surge of energy disrupts internal balance. A shinobi trained in precise chakra manipulation starts to lose the feel of his own channels. Even the Sharingan begins to falter — seeing too much, losing focus. Most find it senseless — why sacrifice finesse for brute force?
Fugaku, thanks to Venom, could maintain chakra control up to the Second Gate. Hardly anyone else could claim the same.
Third — time. A monstrous amount of time. This technique doesn’t just demand physical training — it demands constant abuse of the body. Muscles, joints, bones — everything must be conditioned to withstand loads no ordinary man could endure. That’s why Guy is always moving. His body never rests. He is a perpetually training machine.
Fugaku spent up to twelve hours a day in that gym. Shadow clones allowed him to combine endless training with his other responsibilities. He’d poured a fortune into the endeavor — investing in equipment, supplements, and specialized fuin-seals. And after a full year, he had opened only three of the eight Gates.
It was inefficient. It was madness. But he kept going.
Because he believed in himself. He had already overcome the drawbacks of the first two Gates. Learned how to breathe under strain. How to keep his mind clear. How to maintain chakra control. And he believed he would find a way — a method to surpass the limits of the third and fourth Gates.
“Shinobi tend to choose more practical paths,” Hiruzen said softly, as if finishing a thought aloud. “Clones, genjutsu, sensory techniques. Even a samurai wouldn’t break himself like this for power. You’re swimming against the current, Fugaku.”
“I’ve always swum against the current, Hiruzen,” he replied. “Otherwise I would’ve drowned long ago.”
Fugaku let the bar fall with a metallic clang, irritation in his eyes as he turned to face the Hokage, who still hadn’t left.
“What do you want?”
“I do have a reason for coming,” Hiruzen replied calmly. His gaze was serious but not confrontational. “My spies brought word from Kumo. Last night, their so-called ambassador… committed seppuku.”
“Good.” Fugaku gave a slight nod, a glint of cold satisfaction flashing in his eyes. “Tell Hiashi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy knowing that at least one of the guilty dealt with himself.”
Hiruzen gave a tired, ironic huff.
“At least someone finds something to enjoy in all this,” he muttered, then exhaled heavily. “Konoha is uneasy. People are afraid. Ever since I announced the dissolution of our alliance with Kumo, the village has fallen into a heavy silence. They move like ghosts. Whisper behind closed doors. Some of them say, ‘If Minato were alive, he’d have found a way to preserve the alliance…’”
“People will always believe in fairy tales,” Fugaku cut in. “Especially the kind where everything ends well and the hero saves the day. But that’s not the world we live in.”
He shot Hiruzen a sharp look.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done about Danzō instead? It’s been two weeks since Hinata’s abduction. If you tell me now that you’re still ‘gathering evidence’…”
Fugaku clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked with the tension.
“…I’ll dig your old friend out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, hand him over to Hiashi, and shut the door behind me. If you want to show some mercy, slit his throat first.”
Hiruzen exhaled slowly. His face lost color. He knew Fugaku didn’t bluff. If he made a threat — it was because he intended to act on it.
“The investigation is complete,” he said at last, meeting his eyes. “Root has been disbanded. All of Danzō’s bases were destroyed. His missions are halted, his agents reassigned under my direct command. From now on, none of them move without ANBU approval.”
“And Danzō himself?” Fugaku’s voice turned ice-cold.
“All of his authority has been revoked. Officially, he has no ties to the village anymore. As far as Konoha is concerned, he no longer exists.”
“That’s not an answer,” Fugaku snapped. And in the next moment, the Sharingan flared in his eyes — crimson tomoe spinning, catching every nuance of deception. “You’re walking a fine line, old man. I suggest you tell the truth. Now.”
Hiruzen held that gaze — the same way he’d once held Madara’s. But now he was old. Tired. And Fugaku’s stare cut much deeper.
He lowered his eyes. There was an unexpected honesty in his voice.
“You don’t know Danzō,” he said hoarsely. “He… protects the village. In a twisted, ugly way, yes. Sometimes in ways that are unforgivable. But… he believes in what he does. After the investigation, when everything came to light, he… offered to step down. Turned himself in. Asked for one final chance — to atone. He wanted to become a field operative. Completely alone. No right to return to Konoha. He left willingly.”
Fugaku stood slowly, walked over, and stopped inches from the Hokage. His voice turned to ice.
“You just let your friend go off to die in some shadow, wrapped in noble words. If he had helped steal my son, you’d already be dead. And don’t for a second doubt that.”
“I understand,” Hiruzen said quietly. “But you’re not a victim here, Fugaku. You’re a witness. I’ll handle Hiashi myself.”
“When a rat in power jeopardizes the entire village, it concerns everyone,” Fugaku snapped. “You listened to Danzō. You heard his excuses. So tell me — what kind of technique was worth selling out a three-year-old girl?”
Hiruzen closed his eyes for a moment. Then looked Fugaku straight in the face.
“No technique is worth a human life. None,” he said firmly. “But Danzō believed the price was justified. The scroll from Kumo contained Uzumaki clan fuinjutsu — notes that could reinforce the jinchūriki’s seal. He thought sacrificing one life could save thousands.”
“Maybe we should give him a medal then,” Fugaku scoffed. “Or name a street after him — Betrayal Alley. I assume you’ve changed every security code he had access to?”
“On the very day of his exile,” Hiruzen nodded. “ANBU acted immediately.”
“You should’ve killed him,” Fugaku muttered, walking back to the equipment. “Then maybe all of this would at least make some sense.”
“There’s one more thing. Kumo is launching an information war. The Raikage’s calling us aggressors. Claiming we killed a diplomat without cause. He’s trying to convince the smaller nations that Konoha is unstable. An enemy of peace.”
“They won’t dare,” Fugaku said calmly as he sat down on the bench.
“What makes you so sure?”
Fugaku lifted the barbell again — as if it were confidence itself he held aloft.
“Because when I’m angry… I’m far more terrifying than the Raikage.”
