Batman in Konoha

Fugaku was sitting in the living room, settled into his favorite armchair, reading an encyclopedia on rare summoning techniques. His fingers lazily turned the pages, his gaze focused on the lines of text—until sharp, high-pitched children's voices rang out from outside the window. He looked up from the book—someone was arguing loudly right by the porch.

"Naruto again," Fugaku thought with a trace of irritation, setting the book down on the armrest.

Two boys stood in the front yard—one with an ever-present fire in his voice, the other with an expression of resigned patience on his face. Naruto Uzumaki, as usual, was the source of noise and enthusiasm. Next to him stood Sasuke—brooding, frowning, but not walking away. Because walking away simply wasn't an option.

"I'm telling you, my godfather is the legendary Jiraiya!" Naruto was rattling off excitedly, waving his arms. "He can summon giant toads—like, house-sized! I'm gonna sign a contract too, you'll see! As soon as I grow up!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. His face clearly said, "Why me?" He wasn't antisocial—on the contrary, he could make friends easily when he wanted to. But there was a difference between friendship and being subjected to an endless stream of bragging from someone who seemed to talk without ever pausing for breath.

"And my grandpa is the THIRD Hokage!" Naruto went on, completely unaware that his friend was slowly losing patience. "He summons talking monkeys. Can you imagine?! A whole squad of battle monkeys, and every one of them knows ninjutsu! When I grow up, I'm gonna summon toads and monkeys! I'll make the ultimate beast team!"

From the window, Fugaku watched, unable to help but note how strange and yet touching the interaction looked. Naruto was loud, clumsy, full of naïve bravado—but in his voice, Fugaku could hear that familiar longing for recognition. And no matter how much Sasuke pretended to be annoyed, he never actually drove the boy away.

Not that driving him away was an option—Mikoto lit up with joy every time she saw Naruto. She kept saying Sasuke needed a real friend, and the son of her best friend was the perfect candidate. Of course, she had no idea how much Naruto talked.

"And my uncle Kakashi summons ninja dogs!" Naruto suddenly sounded supercharged again. "Seriously! Real wolfhounds, they talk like humans, track enemies, fight in teams. I'm gonna sign that contract too! Then I'll have a team of toads, monkeys, and dogs!"

Sasuke opened his mouth but paused for a second, searching for the right words.

"You've already told me about all your relatives. Three times," he muttered. "Who even are your parents?"

The question, spoken without malice, instantly changed the mood.

Naruto froze. His shoulders sank a little, his gaze grew unfocused, and his voice dropped.

"I... don't know," he admitted quietly. "Grandpa says he can't tell me. Says it's for my own safety..."

For a moment, tense silence hung in the air. But just a second later, Naruto straightened up and, as if brushing off the sadness, grinned wide:

"But I'm sure they were awesome shinobi! Way cooler than yours! Like, a hundred times cooler!"

"Seriously?" Sasuke's mouth twitched. "My father defeated the Raikage without a scratch. You ever hear how they feared him during the war?"

"Pfft," Naruto scoffed. "So what? Maybe my parents were ANBU secret agents! Or S-rank jonin hidden for a top-secret mission! Maybe they saved the village and... died as heroes!"

Sasuke snorted and stood up, crossing his arms. And just like that, the bragging contest began. He started listing Fugaku's accomplishments with such dramatic flair that even a newspaper reporter would struggle to keep up.

By the window, Fugaku glanced toward the kitchen. Mikoto was humming softly as she cooked rice, listening to the boys' voices with a fond smile. In her eyes, all of this was just a sign of a growing friendship.

The noise outside the house provided the perfect cover for Itachi, who silently opened the door and slipped inside, careful not to draw attention. Normally, he made time for his younger brother—teaching, training, talking. But not today. The Chūnin Exams were just two days away, and every second was invaluable. Even someone as disciplined as Itachi looked a little tired.

He headed for the stairs, but didn't make it three steps before his father's voice stopped him.

"Do you think you're ready?" Fugaku asked quietly, but clearly.

Itachi halted. He turned around. His gaze was calm as always, but his voice carried the tension of intense preparation.

"I've done everything I could," he replied. "My team and I have gone through all the study material. We're prepared for any kind of test, including traps or unexpected conditions. For the field assignment—we've double-checked our gear and drilled our team tactics. As for the third stage, our sensei trained us personally. Each of us has mastered at least one nature transformation, plus additional techniques—flashier than practical, but guaranteed to impress. Even if the judges aren't moved, the audience will be. Which means more client trust for Konoha."

Fugaku listened in silence, watching his son intently. This wasn't just a "report." It was a clear, well-structured plan—taking into account risks, consequences, and side benefits. Exactly how he would have approached it himself. Every step deliberate, every detail under control.

"I'd say your promotion is guaranteed... if you were competing in Konoha," Fugaku said quietly. "But you chose Suna. Which means foreign ground, more traps, biased judges. They'll want to promote their own, not ours."

"I've already calculated that," Itachi replied evenly. "Konoha offers comfort. Suna—risk. And it's risk that leads to growth. If I prove myself there, it'll mean far more than winning at home. Even in the worst case, I'll gain something from it. In the best case—I'll elevate Konoha's prestige."

Fugaku gave a silent nod, signaling him to go on. He didn't like interrupting when his son laid out a strategy—in this, they had rare harmony. Both preferred to speak with purpose and listen with intent.

"I deliberately postponed my participation, skipped the earlier slots," Itachi continued. "I wanted this exam in Suna. Of all the villages, they're the most neutral toward us. Yes, bias is inevitable. But unlike Kiri or Iwa, Suna won't eliminate me quietly. Their reputation matters. They need to show hospitality, even if deep down they don't like us."

Fugaku narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You think they'll let you reach the third stage?"

"That's exactly what they'll do," Itachi answered with a slight nod. "They'll want to show the world they're 'fair.' I'll reach the individual matches, and even if they deny me victory on a flimsy technicality—it won't matter. Everyone will see what I'm capable of. Which means they'll see what Konoha—and the Uchiha clan—are capable of."

Fugaku was silent for a moment, as if re-evaluating everything he'd just heard. Finally, he nodded with an expression that seemed to say, he's grown up...

"You've thought it all through," he said. "Maybe... would you like your mother and me to accompany you?"

"There's no point," Itachi shook his head. "The first and second stages are closed to outsiders. After that, I'll be in isolation for nearly a month of preparation. It would just add unnecessary tension and attention. It's not helpful for you—or for me."

Fugaku squinted, not from offense, but understanding. In his position, he'd have done the exact same thing. Cold control was the best companion in the field.

"Very well," he said calmly. "We'll come for the final stage."

///

Weeks passed. Itachi and his team had long since crossed the desert borders of the Land of Wind and arrived in Suna. One morning, as usual, a messenger hawk arrived at the Uchiha residence with a letter. It was short and to the point—Itachi's character evident even in the phrasing.

Fugaku leaned back in his chair, letter in hand, and closed his eyes for a moment.

Just as expected.

Suna, of course, tried to play the political game. On paper, the exam was open and fair. In practice—it was a trap. The written portion included a dozen math problems, each with a single correct answer. But at the end came a declared "bonus" question: philosophical, with several seemingly valid choices. The final say belonged to the examiner. And the "correct" answer? It changed every time.

Itachi had picked the right answer before the test even started. In the waiting room, he'd identified the examiner's son. And when the final question came—Itachi gave the same answer the boy had. His whole team followed his lead.

Fugaku smirked. Almost proudly. Well done.

He set the letter aside and returned to his work. In his head, he was already reorganizing his schedule for the coming weeks—crossing out a few minor meetings, rescheduling a council session—all to make sure he could be in Suna for the day of the duels. He wasn't planning to go alone. Mikoto had been subtly hinting, in her usual way, that she wanted to join. Sasuke was burning with impatience. Even Shisui, currently on a classified mission, had promised to sneak away for at least one day. He'd sent a brief message:

"Tell Itachi not to think for a second I'll miss the moment he wipes the floor with everyone. I'll be there. Promise."

Night settled quietly over the house. Moonlight shimmered in the windows. Mikoto and Sasuke were already asleep. But Fugaku remained in his study, surrounded by paperwork. His attention was locked on financial reports. He ran his finger along the columns of numbers, carefully comparing expenses and supply orders, checking every detail. Less than an hour passed before he found the first irregularity. Then a second. Then—an entire chain.

"Sloppy work," he muttered to himself, marking a red cross next to one name. Then a second. Then a third.

Those who stole from Fugaku Uchiha didn't last long.

The stillness of the night was broken by a light but distinct tapping on the window. Not loud enough to wake the household—but insistent enough to draw attention. Fugaku lifted his eyes from the reports, instantly alert. He wasn't expecting anyone.

Clinging upside down to the glass was a strange creature—a small monkey dressed in a kimono. A real monkey. Not the kind native to the Land of Fire. Clearly not local, and most likely a summoning. Fugaku stood up and opened the window.

"Why did Hiruzen send you?" he asked coldly, his voice controlled.

"Trouble! Trouble!" the monkey screeched, almost panicking. "Hiruzen says you must come to his residence immediately! Trouble with your son! Urgent, very urgent!"

Without wasting a second, Fugaku slipped through the window, already ahead of the messenger before it could even turn around. He knew the address of every key official in Konoha by heart—a habit developed long ago, back when he controlled Gotham. It saved time now.

He burst into Sarutobi's house without acknowledging the guards—they didn't even try to stop him. The interior was almost a mirror of his own home: the same clean lines, the same polished floors—except for the smell of tobacco baked into the walls.

In the entryway, Hiruzen was already waiting. The old man wore a simple house kimono, his pipe trailing a stream of bitter smoke from the corner of his mouth. On the couch beside him sat his eldest son—Sarutobi Hotai. His green flak jacket was smeared with sand and blood, torn in several places like after a recent fight. Across the room, half in shadow, sat Itachi. His usually composed face was marked by worry. A cup of hot tea trembled slightly in his hands—barely, but Fugaku noticed.

Something had happened.

Something serious.

/////

Author notes:

If you've made it this far, you're already a hero.

Be a legend — leave a comment and power stone.

Your thoughts, theories, reactions — even a single emoji — are fuel that keeps me writing.