Batman in Konoha

In the office of Uchiha's Police Captain, silence reigned as usual—dense, oppressive, disciplined. Even the sound of paper being moved from one side of the desk to the other echoed dully, like footsteps in an empty hall.

Someone knocked.

"Come in," Fugaku said curtly, sliding the reports into a leather folder embossed with the clan crest.

The door creaked open, and in walked a man. 

Might Duy.

Wearing a tight green jumpsuit, orange leg-warmers, and a forehead protector, he looked more like a circus performer than a shinobi. Messy hair, thick eyebrows hanging over his eyes like two shaggy caterpillars, and stubble sticking out in all directions gave him the look of a man who'd long forgotten what a mirror was. His appearance didn't just fail to meet shinobi expectations—it irritated.

Fugaku, used to order, neatness, even a ritualistic sense of presentation, felt this visual chaos almost like physical pain.

"I was stopped by your people on the street," Duy mumbled, awkwardly rubbing his hands as he stood by the door. "They said you wanted to see me, Fugaku-sama, but didn't explain why…"

"For official business," Fugaku cut him off, staring directly into his eyes. "Sit down, Duy."

He gestured to a wooden chair in front of the desk—hard, without armrests, as if it were meant not for guests but for interrogations.

Duy sat down reluctantly, shoulders slumped, as if expecting a trap beneath the chair.

"We live in the same village," Fugaku began, his tone cold, like reading from a report. "Both shinobi. Nearly the same age. And yet… we've never spoken."

He paused, as if giving Duy a chance to say something—yet the man only swallowed and nodded.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, Fugaku-sama," Duy murmured. "You're… the police captain, head of the Uchiha clan, hero of the Third War, a jōnin."

"Correct," Fugaku nodded. "And yet Konoha barely speaks of you. Not because of fear," he reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin folder—just two sheets of paper. "This is your entire life's record."

He opened the first page and began to read aloud, not lifting his eyes from the paper:

"Might Duy. Age thirty-three. Rank: genin. According to the Analysis Division's assessment: 'Intelligence below average, incapable of independent mission planning or evaluation. No leadership potential.'"

He looked up. Duy had already turned red, like a student who had just failed an exam.

"In other words," Fugaku added dryly, "according to Konoha, you're dumber than some Academy graduates."

He turned the page.

"Mission contribution—zero. No notable actions during the war. Quoting a partner's review: 'His shouts about the power of youth are irritating. I refuse to work with him again.'"

Duy took a breath, clearly about to say something foolish, but Fugaku cut him off:

"In your free time—solo taijutsu training. Never married. One son—Might Guy, now a jōnin. The child's mother fled after giving birth."

He closed the folder and set it aside.

"As you can see, Duy, we have nothing in common. And yet, you may still be useful to me."

Fugaku clasped his fingers in front of him, leaned forward slightly, and looked him straight in the eyes—a gaze that sent a chill down the spine.

"I want to buy the technique of the Eight Gates from you."

Duy froze, then shook his head.

"Fugaku-sama, I can't. I… I passed that technique down to my son. It's his path now."

"It's not your technique," Fugaku said sharply. "Do you know how I even found out about your existence?"

He stood and walked to a bookshelf, pulling out a thick, old folder bearing Konoha's emblem. He placed it on the desk, opened it, and unfolded one of the yellowed pages.

"A wartime chronicle from the era of Madara Uchiha. Enemies he faced, including masters of the Eight Gates. Long before you were born. This technique is not yours, Duy. It's a secret art passed to Konoha from the Senju clan. It became part of the village's legacy."

He closed the folder.

"Hiruzen," Fugaku said, with a faint trace of contempt, "took pity on you. Saw that you were hopeless at everything except brute physical strength. So he gave you the technique to keep you from breaking completely."

Duy's face was burning. He clenched his fists and lowered his head. His breathing grew quicker. He didn't look angry—he looked humiliated.

"But… it's a kinjutsu," Duy muttered, barely above a whisper. "A forbidden technique. It kills the user. Hokage-sama… he forbade me from teaching it to anyone."

"And you disobeyed that order," Fugaku interrupted harshly, "when you passed the technique to your son."

Duy froze.

"Don't bother making excuses. I'm not ANBU. I don't need a reason to crush you. But you're still alive because I am a rational man. I know my body's limits. I won't die from stupidity or ignorant overconfidence. I will calculate every stage."

He straightened up, and his massive figure blocked the light from the window. Against the morning sun, he looked like a statue—a perfectly carved union of strength and will.

Duy looked up at him, his eyes widening like a child staring at a dream behind glass. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, tinged with something like awe:

"You're really strong, Fugaku-sama. I saw the Raikage during the war. And you—you're like him. Maybe even stronger. No matter how hard I trained, I never reached that. What's your secre—"

Fugaku cut him off with a single sharp word:

"Hiden jutsu."

His tone said: This conversation is over. Duy understood. He swallowed the rest of the sentence and bit his lip.

"Do you understand why you're here right now, Duy?" Fugaku asked coldly, looking at him like a teacher addressing a student lost on the most basic principles.

"You… want to buy the technique from me?"

"No," Fugaku snapped. "You're here because of my mercy."

He walked to the window and looked down at the streets of Konoha, at the people below. Then — over his shoulder — at Duy.

"I could have pulled everything out of you under genjutsu. You wouldn't have even realized you were talking to me, not an illusion of your son. But I… am showing restraint. I'm spending my time. Not conducting business. Not earning money. Instead, I'm speaking to you—Might Duy, the eternal genin."

Duy blinked again, and it seemed only now did he truly grasp where he was. And with whom.

"Value my mercy," Fugaku repeated. "For one S-rank technique, I offer something of equal value. One favor. From the leader of the village's most powerful clan."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Do you want to move out of your shack on the outskirts and live in the heart of Konoha? It's possible. Want the rank of jōnin? You'll have it. Want your name to be spoken on the streets not as a joke, but with respect?"

"You… you can do all that?" Duy's voice trembled. He looked like someone who had just been offered a ticket to another world.

"I can do anything," Fugaku replied flatly. "As long as it doesn't go against my interests."

Silence. Then Duy slowly raised his head. His voice no longer shook—it was unexpectedly sincere.

"I don't need wealth. I've never lived with it—and I won't start now. The only thing I have…" he swallowed, "is my son. He's my only treasure. If… the Uchiha clan could take care of him…"

Fugaku didn't answer right away. His gaze turned heavy, like a block of granite.

Might Guy. Fifteen years old. Jōnin. Taijutsu master level. Summoning: giant turtle. Downside—acts like a circus clown. But that could be corrected.

"It can be arranged," he said at last. "After the Nine-Tails attack, many widows remain. Among them—Uchiha Suzumebachi. Nineteen. No children. I'll give her a personal recommendation for Guy."

He paused. Then, glancing at Duy's pitiful appearance, he added:

"And I'll provide funds for the wedding. Guy will take his wife's surname and join the Uchiha clan."

Duy broke. He dropped to his knees, bowing his forehead to the floor.

"Thank you, Fugaku-sama, thank you! I never dreamed my boy would bear such a great name…"

Fugaku gave no reaction. Words of gratitude were empty air to him. Everything was going according to plan. He had already calculated the outcome.

Suzumebachi was known for being ambitious, quarrelsome, and demanding. She would nag her husband day and night. Insist he throw away that green jumpsuit, dress like a normal person, learn proper manners. She would push him to take more missions, earn respect, live up to the Uchiha name.

Fugaku saw it clearly: Guy would change. He would stop being a laughingstock. And maybe… become a good husband.

Duy was still kneeling. But now—not before an enemy.

Before a patron.

/////

Author notes:

I played along with Guy a little. I was sad that he remained a bachelor in the epilogue.

A reader on Patreon doubted that Might Duy was alive after Naruto was born. If anyone still doubts, I am using the timeline from the Narutopedia website. This is not an advertisement.

https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/User:Seelentau/Naruto_Timeline

As you can see, he died after Naruto was born.

P.S. This timeline is no longer as accurate due to Fugaku's influence.