After lunch, right on schedule, Hiruzen stepped onto Uzumaki grounds. The old man never changed his habits: steady stride, hands behind his back, pipe between his teeth. He looked more like a wise neighbor than the Hokage.
Naturally, Naruko couldn't resist — and this time decided to try out her freshly bought technique.
"Gotcha!" She shot him a bloodthirsty glare.
Hiruzen narrowed his eyes for a second, then took a calm puff from his pipe.
"Mmm, Killing Intent," he said evenly. "Useful skill."
Naruko puffed out her cheeks.
"Gramps! Why didn't it work on you? I tested it on all my classmates, they dropped like flies! It was hilarious!"
"Spare the children, Naruko-chan," Hiruzen chuckled softly, exhaling a smoky cloud. "And to answer your question: with age, you build an immunity. The more often your life hangs by a thread, the harder it is to impress you with the threat of death."
Menma looked up from his notebook, where he'd been sketching something.
"I have a question," he said. "You once mentioned that any technique can be perfected within five years. Does that rule apply to Killing Intent too?"
"Ho-ho. I see you're not just collecting techniques for the numbers, but trying to master each one," Hiruzen chuckled warmly. "A good mindset, Menma-kun. Even with my entire library, I have a dozen favorite techniques I polished to perfection."
"Gramps!" Naruko protested. "You're dodging the question again! Answer straight!"
"Ah, forgive an old man," Hiruzen coughed lightly and drew on his pipe once more. "Yes, Menma-kun. Killing Intent can be developed. At higher levels, victims begin to see hallucinations of their worst nightmares. I haven't met such masters personally, but I've heard that their aura becomes visible, taking the form of a demon."
[Ha! That's Zabuza's signature trick. Even veterans shook under his Killing Intent. And it looked damn stylish. Definitely worth training. Maybe you can't kill a jōnin with it, but you can scatter a crowd of genin with just a smirk.]
"So, if there are no more questions…" Hiruzen cleared his throat, pausing as he glanced at the twins, "then let's complete today's quota."
He walked over to a row of enormous water barrels nearby. There were about a dozen of them, each large enough for a whole squad of genin to bathe inside. Using ready-made water was far easier and cheaper than creating it anew with jutsu. Nearby stood a massive brazier, logs stacked inside, ready to blaze with simple firewood. A little further off hummed a heavy electric generator, thick cables trailing from it — the power source for lightning-style training.
[Convenient setup, old man. Saves his own chakra.]
Hiruzen formed seals, and with a splash, ten tons of water vanished from a barrel, instantly reappearing in the scroll Menma held. He felt the parchment tremble in his hands — as if an entire ocean now sloshed inside.
A minute later it was Naruko's turn. With a new set of seals, Hiruzen unleashed a roaring wave of fire dozens of meters long. The girl squealed in delight but managed to thrust her scroll forward in time — and the flames vanished as if they'd never existed.
Two minutes, and they already had two fresh A-rank scrolls in hand.
"That was scroll number three hundred and one!" Naruko jabbed her finger at Hiruzen triumphantly. "You promised you'd teach us a new jutsu!"
"I remember my promises," Hiruzen replied with a gentle smile. He carefully tucked the two scrolls into his sleeve, then added, "I made arrangements with Enma. Today he'll teach you his signature technique."
He nicked his finger and slapped his palm against the ground. A seal flared, and beside him appeared a monkey in kimono, his eyes sharp yet faintly weary.
"Well, I'll leave you to it," Hiruzen said, trading a quick glance with his summoned partner. "You know what to do."
And with that, leaving the twins in Enma's care, he strolled away unhurriedly, taking the scent of tobacco with him.
"Hey, brats," Enma smirked. "Been a while. What's it been… a year and a half?"
"In that time, I've grown and become cooler than you," Naruko declared grandly, running a hand through her hair, tied into two pigtails. "Now I've got two tails, and you still only have one!"
"I admit defeat," the monkey bowed with a slight smile, swishing his white tail. "But I won't waste time. Tell me, what do you know about adamantine?"
"That's the stuff you used to kick the Kyūbi's butt!" Naruko exclaimed in awe.
"You could put it that way," Enma scratched his head sheepishly. "But to be precise, adamantine is the highest form of chakra. Its carriers are descendants of the Senju and related clans. It's strong enough to restrain even a bijū."
"Wait a sec!" Naruko frowned. "If you've got adamantine, then… are you our tailed relative?!"
"Only spiritually," Enma corrected gently. "When I was still a child, I wandered into the Forest of Death and gorged on the fruit of trees grown by Hashirama. Along with the fruit, I absorbed his chakra."
[Unbelievable. And yet I buy it. If Kinkaku and Ginkaku could snag power by munching on Kurama, then what's stopping a monkey from juicing up on fruit? Too bad you can't awaken Wood Release that way, or I'd have moved into the Forest of Death already.]
"So you'll teach us adamantine techniques?" Menma asked, arms folded across his chest.
"Not all at once," Enma raised a finger. "Like the Sharingan, adamantine has to be awakened first."
"And how exactly?" Menma frowned.
"The most reliable way is to face a bijū in battle," Enma said seriously. "Hiruzen told me your mother awakened adamantine at your age, when the Eight-Tails attacked Uzushio."
Menma narrowed his eyes.
"And a fight with a jinchūriki won't do?"
[For the sake of the experiment, I could lift the seal of will on Kurama for a couple of minutes. Then put it back. Entirely manageable.]
"No," Enma answered firmly. "It has to be a real bijū. That's how I awakened adamantine myself."
"So you came here just to say you can't do anything?!" Naruko protested, stomping her foot.
"That would be too cruel," Enma shook his head. "Over the past six months, I came up with a way to manage without a direct fight."
He pulled a large red crystal from his robes. It glowed from within with a soft yet unsettling light, as if a bonfire burned inside it.
"This is sealed chakra of the Four-Tails," Enma explained. "He gifted it to my grandfather a hundred years ago. Now you can use it for training."
"How exactly?" Menma asked at once.
Enma activated the crystal. From it burst a stream of acrid red chakra, gathering into the form of a small Four-Tails. It stood motionless, which somehow made it even more terrifying. The air thickened, and Menma felt his skin burn just from the entity's presence.
"Your task is to fight it," Enma said, extending his palm. From it shot a chain of chakra, shimmering with a silvery glow. "This is what it should look like. Not as fast as a real battle with a bijū, but safer."
Menma narrowed his eyes, then smirked.
"You don't need to worry about speed."
He formed a hand seal, and ten shadow clones appeared around him, spreading out in a circle around the crystal, each extending a palm the way Enma had shown.
"No need to rush," Enma waved his tail casually. "I won't start teaching you an adamantine technique until you bring Hiruzen another three hundred scrolls."
[Cheeky monkeys! Won't give a thing for free. I could churn out more than two scrolls a day — I've got the chakra — but I won't. Doubt there are even ten adamantine techniques in total. At two per year, I'll calmly claim my inheritance before graduating the Academy. Better to spend spare chakra perfecting basic shinobi skills, not feeding Hiruzen's arsenal.]
,1/10/2025NewAdd bookmark#80In their third year at the Academy, the fateful day finally arrived: the children were given the leaf exercise. Famous, legendary and… unbearably primitive. Pluck a leaf from a tree, press it to your forehead, send chakra to hold it there. And do that for an entire year.
[How can anyone doubt that the growth of future shinobi is deliberately slowed down after this?]
Mizuki-sensei hadn't changed a bit since their first year: sprawled lazily at the teacher's desk, nose buried in a book, only occasionally glancing at the kids to make sure they at least looked like they were training.
For some, the task really was a trial. Poor children with no shinobi in the family turned as red as boiled crabs, trembling with strain. Sweat dripped from their foreheads, the leaf kept sliding down, and the despair in their eyes only grew.
"Come on… just a little more…" one boy whispered, grimacing as if that would somehow make his chakra behave.
His neighbor clenched her teeth, desperately trying to "convince" the leaf to stick, already on the verge of tears.
Meanwhile, the clan kids didn't even blink. The exercise was as old as last year's snow. Most had mastered it long before entering the Academy — under their parents' careful supervision. Some passed Mizuki's test on the very first day and never bothered showing up to lessons again.
And the cleverest ones… those who knew how to mix business with pleasure, stayed. Among them were the Uzumaki twins. They'd claimed the desks at the very back, sending the leaf gliding across their whole bodies to impress the others, while at the same time spreading out cards on the table — the local version of a children's game with shinobi illustrations. The stakes: candy.
The game was intense. Hinata, Choji, Ino, and Shino were already out, having lost their stashes. Only Sakura, Sasuke, and Kiba remained against the twins. As usual, Shikamaru had refused to play. He lay with his cheek pressed to the desk, watching with half-lidded eyes like the whole thing was exhausting just to witness.
"Get ready to say goodbye to your sweets!" Kiba declared smugly, slapping down his cards. Akamaru barked happily from his perch on Kiba's head, cheering his master on.
"Don't rush it," Sakura replied calmly, studying her hand with care. She sat upright, focused, clearly determined to prove she could play as well as anyone.
"You only learned the rules today," Ino scoffed from the back row, unable to hold back. "You've made it this far purely on luck."
Sakura flushed pink, almost matching her hair.
"Luck matters too," Sasuke said unexpectedly. He didn't even look up from his cards, but his voice carried weight. "Sensei said sometimes luck decides the outcome of a mission."
Sakura lit up instantly: gratitude in her eyes, a satisfied smile on her lips. And of course, she stuck her tongue out at Ino to seal the moment. Ino sputtered with outrage, nearly choking on air.
Kiba dramatically pulled a half-eaten pack of watermelon gum from his pocket.
"I'm raising the stakes," he announced with a grin.
"I fold," Sasuke said evenly, showing his hand: just a bunch of genin cards. "A real shinobi knows when to retreat."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that at night," Kiba snorted, clearly enjoying himself. "What about you, pinkie?"
"I raise too," Sakura replied firmly, surprising even herself. Sasuke's words about luck had clearly fired her up more than she expected.
"And you two?" Kiba turned his eyes on the twins.
"Hold on," Menma cut in, leaning toward his sister. "We need to discuss."
"What?!" Kiba nearly fell out of his seat. "That's cheating!"
"Entirely predictable," Shikamaru muttered lazily. "They split everything anyway. Why fight each other? Besides, nothing in the rules forbids it."
"But that's—" Kiba waved his arms wildly.
"Face it, dog-boy," Naruko said with a sly squint. "There's always someone smarter than you. In your case — in every room."
"You—!" Kiba roared, while Akamaru growled from his head, cheeks puffed with mock ferocity.
Menma cut through the noise without raising his voice. "My hand's weaker than yours," he told his sister, calmly laying his cards down. "So the final bet's yours."
He carefully pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and placed it beside the cards — his last sacrifice for his sister's victory.
The moment of truth. Sakura revealed her cards first: two Irukas and a talking pug. Not the strongest combo. She wore the look of someone already celebrating.
"Bad move staying in, girl," Kiba smirked smugly. He slapped down three Hiruzen cards with confidence. "Thanks for the gummy bears. Akamaru and I will enjoy them while thinking of you."
Akamaru barked joyfully, already anticipating the feast.
Sakura deflated, shoulders slumping, despair clouding her eyes as Kiba reached for the pile of sweets.
"Not so fast, fleabag." Naruko grinned triumphantly as she threw down her hand: three cards gleaming with the golden silhouette of Minato Namikaze. The strongest combo in the game.
Kiba sat slack-jawed, as if someone had just smacked him over the head. Akamaru yelped and glanced sideways at his master in confusion.
"You cheated!" Kiba finally blurted when Naruko, without the slightest hint of guilt, swept the entire pile of sweets into her backpack. "You teamed up with your brother!"
Akamaru, the loyal partner, barked at full volume, as though backing up the accusation.
"Quiet in the back!" Mizuki-sensei finally tore himself away from his book. His face was stern, but his eyes betrayed irritation — someone was interrupting his "important reading." "People are trying to study here."
"It's fine, Mizuki-sensei!" Naruko reported smartly, hopping up onto the desk right in front of Kiba. She crouched there and stared him down. "I know exactly how to deal with unruly dogs: look straight into their eyes and speak firmly."
The class erupted in laughter. Even those struggling with their damn leaves brightened at the show.
Mizuki tried to keep a serious face, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I'm not a dog!" Kiba raged, trying to shove Naruko off the desk, but she clung to the edge like a cat and didn't budge.
"Oh yeah?" she drawled, dripping with doubt. "Then why do you smell exactly like one?"
Now the whole class was howling. Even Mizuki chuckled quietly behind his hand.
///
After class, Menma caught Sasuke by the Academy doors. Sasuke was on his way to the training grounds, focused and businesslike as always.
"We need to talk," Menma said shortly.
Sasuke tensed at once. "At your place?" His voice went almost formal.
"No." Menma shook his head. "Ichiraku."
Sasuke blinked, then relaxed. "Ah. Got it." His tone shifted back to normal. No one would discuss secret techniques in an open ramen stand. "That works. Is she coming with us?"
He glanced over his shoulder at Naruko. She had already handed out part of her loot to the girls, laughing loudly, and was now hurrying to catch up.
[Heh. In class, Sasuke looks at my sister more than anyone else. And it's not about romance. He's just always expecting a trick. Bracing for pranks.]
"Yeah, she's coming." Menma patted his shoulder. "Not even a tornado could keep her from ramen."
Ichiraku greeted them with the rich aroma of noodles, broth, and grilled meat — a smell that could make any passerby's stomach growl.
"What'll it be for my favorite regulars?" Ayame smiled warmly, wiping down the counter.
"Uzuramen!" Naruko declared without hesitation, slapping her palm on the counter.
Menma raised two fingers — "same for me."
"I'll take the pork ramen," Sasuke said calmly, settling onto a stool.
"Just a moment!" boomed Teuchi's cheerful voice as he poured oil onto the pan. "By the way, Naruko-chan, I've got news for you. I arranged direct deliveries of Curry of Life. No more begging Maito Gai for it!"
"You're a genius!" Naruko bounced in place. "I hope you ordered a tanker, because I'm eating at least three bowls tonight!"
Sasuke sighed, rubbing his temples. "How does all that even fit into you?"
"I've been trying to figure it out for two years," Ayame whispered, watching the girl drum her chopsticks on the counter in impatience.
Meanwhile, Teuchi finished cooking and proudly set three steaming bowls in front of them.
"Itadakimasu!" Naruko snatched up her chopsticks, and in the next instant slurped down noodles with a loud whoosh. Her face flushed, her eyes sparkled, and steam puffed from her mouth. "Delicious!"
"I still don't get how you eat that," Sasuke muttered, eyeing their bowls warily. The red broth bubbled like lava, and even the smell stung the eyes of the unprepared.
"Of course you don't," Naruko waved him off. "My mom, Uzumaki Kushina, was nicknamed Red Hot-Blooded Habanero.' Love of spicy food runs in my blood!"
Sasuke's eyebrow lifted slightly. "I see…" His voice carried a faint note of respect.
Menma ate more calmly. Each spoonful he immediately chased with milk — not grimacing, but not pretending to enjoy the burn either.
[Every spoon of this refined poison strengthens my resistance to toxins and deepens my bond with fire. Worth the pain.]
"How's Kakashi?" Menma asked between bites. "Still late to every training session?"
Sasuke grimaced. "At first, yeah. Sometimes I waited three hours. But… over time, the delays got shorter. Now Kakashi-sensei is the most punctual man in the village."
[Nice to watch two broken people pull each other toward the light. Kakashi stopped being late. Sasuke stopped avoiding people. But enough sentimentality. Time for business.]
Menma gave his sister a discreet wink. Naruko nodded back without pausing her chewing.
"Saaasuke…" Naruko dragged out his name as if luring him into a trap. Her face lit up with a sly, outrageously suspicious grin.
"Well?" Sasuke replied cautiously, already sensing trouble.
"Your birthday's coming up, right?"
"…Yeah," his voice now carried clear suspicion.
"Perfect!" Naruko's eyes gleamed. "Then I'll give you… a portrait of Madara!"
Sasuke choked on his noodles as if he'd been punched in the gut. He grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down while coughing and wiping the sweat from his brow.
"W-why?" he croaked, still recovering.
"Come on!" Naruko threw her hands up. "You've seen the Hokage portraits in Grandpa's office, haven't you?"
Sasuke gave a short nod. Of course he had.
"See!" Naruko exclaimed triumphantly. "Everyone walks in, sees the portraits of past leaders, and thinks: now this is an important person. So imagine—you've got Madara's portrait hanging in your house! Instant respect, authority, admiration!"
"Madara tried to destroy Konoha," Sasuke reminded her.
"And he also founded it!" Naruko shot back. "Balance, as they say."
Sasuke covered his face with his hand. But Naruko wasn't done yet.
"Although, you know… a portrait won't really suit you. Nobody ever visits your place." She squinted, snapped her fingers. "That's it! We'll give you a Madara tattoo! Across your whole back! You can walk around shirtless so everyone sees and feels your importance!"
Ayame snorted into her fist, trying not to laugh. Sasuke just groaned, low and hopeless, like a man caught in the clutches of a professional torturer.
[Phase one: client's brain successfully boiled. Now for the ice bath.]
"Sasuke," Menma reminded casually, pretending all of this was just background noise, "I actually called you here for a serious talk."
"Right!" Sasuke latched onto the topic like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. "About what?"
Menma leaned forward slightly. "Your clan used to run the largest weapon shop network. Ever thought about restoring the family business?"
Sasuke blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes. "And why do you care?"
"You see…" Menma spoke evenly, as though weighing every word. "People come to my sealing shop every day wanting weapons sealed. But I only have scrolls and ink. They buy the weapons elsewhere." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Here's my idea: I send them to your shop as a trusted supplier. You get customers. I take a cut. Everyone wins."
Sasuke went quiet, rubbed his chin, frowning. "Hm… tempting. I saw some of my father's supplier records. There were some Cats listed. I think I can contact them."
Menma barely kept the corners of his mouth from curling.
[Perfect. Through their network, I'll get exotic weapons without Grandpa's oversight. Sweet independence.]
"What an interesting conversation," Teuchi chimed in as he rinsed grease from his hands. He'd been listening while cooking another order. "Little businessmen, huh? Maybe you can tell me how to boost my sales too?"
"Easy." Menma shrugged lazily. "Hang my clan's symbol over the entrance. Shinobi will swarm in to try the 'secret Uzumaki cuisine.'"
Sasuke snorted, but Teuchi tapped the counter thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. Menma, what do you want in exchange for letting me use your logo?"
[Uh? I was joking… but if the fish jumps onto the hook itself…]
Menma glanced at his sister, who was already bouncing with enthusiasm on her stool.
"We both know what you're about to say," he sighed. "Fine, I'm in."
"Thanks, brother!" Naruko shouted with joy. "Lifetime supply of free Uzuramen!"
"Deal," Teuchi smiled. Then muttered under his breath, "Not like anyone else eats it anyway."
Ayame snickered again, covering her mouth. Naruko pumped her fist in triumph. Sasuke just shook his head, wondering how on earth he'd been dragged into this chaos.
By the fourth year, the Academy stopped resembling an ordinary school. The curriculum grew heavier and darker. Geography was joined by the politics of major hidden villages, with emphasis on their alliances and betrayals. General history expanded into detailed chronicles of wars, with dry reports on battles, losses, and commanders' tactics. Even chemistry gained a new section — the making of poisons and antidotes.
Menma listened with quiet satisfaction. At last, the lessons were beginning to feel like shinobi training, not some diplomat kids' hobby club.
On the very first day of the new school year, during ninjutsu class, the students were about to get what they had been waiting for over three years. Mizuki-sensei stood before the board, slightly tense but smiling earnestly.
"Today we begin learning techniques." His voice instantly cut through the excited chatter. He raised a hand for silence. "I know how long you've been waiting for this. And believe me, I remember very well how often you asked me to hurry to this part."
His gaze swept over the class and lingered on Sasuke and Kiba. It was reproachful, but both boys pretended not to notice.
"But those three years were necessary," Mizuki went on more firmly. "We learned to control chakra. Without that foundation, any technique will simply collapse. That's why I held back those who failed the exam. Without chakra control, they don't belong in this room."
A wave of whispers spread across the class. Everyone involuntarily thought of the ones who were no longer sitting among them.
"Remember Torifu?" Ino leaned to her neighbors while Mizuki tried to quiet the noise. "He's been held back three times already. At this rate, he'll graduate at twenty!"
"What a loser," Kiba snorted, clearly savoring the thought of someone else's failure.
Shino turned his head slightly and said in his muffled, measured tone: "Through laziness he ruins his own potential. Books say the shinobi peak comes around twenty years. After that, training brings little improvement."
[And the bug boy's right. Every legendary shinobi became a monster before twenty. Hashirama, Madara, Minato. After that age, they only maintained their level.]
When Mizuki finally restored order, he nodded and returned to the lesson:
"Today I'll show you the technique of the Illusionary Clone." He slowly formed hand seals. A burst of chakra — and an identical copy appeared beside him.
The class erupted in excited cries. The illusion looked far too real to beginners, and they gasped, whispering about who might manage to reproduce it.
"By the way, this year there won't be a separate exam for my subject," Mizuki added, then dispelled the clone.
"How come, Mizuki-sensei?" Sakura's thin voice broke through the chatter.
"It's simple." The teacher smiled gently. "Ninjutsu is part of the graduation exam. Each year I'll teach you one technique. At graduation, you must perform all three in sequence. Do that — and you'll earn a forehead protector."
This time, half the class groaned — now from the "impossible difficulty."
"You'll manage," Mizuki soothed them in the same soft tone. "I believe in you."
Menma, however, narrowed his eyes at the teacher.
[One measly technique for a whole year? At this snail's pace, by twenty we'll be good for nothing but party tricks. The Academy clearly isn't interested in producing monsters like Hashirama or Minato. Fine, I'm not worried about me or Naruko — we train way harder than the norm. But the others… With this kind of "care," half my friends won't survive their second mission.]
He glanced at the friends sitting nearby and decided to shift the mood.
"Hey, guys," Menma said quietly, leaning toward them. "Naruko and I have our birthday next month. Consider this your invitation."
///
On October tenth, the Shinigami Temple looked nothing like usual. The somber shrine, where silence and the smell of old wood normally reigned, had turned into a place of celebration. Garlands glittered on the walls, paper lanterns cast a soft glow, and balloons — red, green, blue — were tied to every chair. At the center stood a large table set for about ten people.
Menma and Naruko waited by the entrance in festive clothes. Naruko wore a crimson dress with ribbons, her hair tied into two ponytails that still refused to behave. Menma, as always, was neat and reserved, dressed in a dark kimono with a wave pattern.
Hinata was the first to arrive. She stepped timidly through the doorway and froze, taking in the temple. Her eyes immediately landed on the altar with its masks, radiating something ancient and mysterious.
"So this is where you live…" she whispered in awe, with a faint shiver. "I imagined it completely differently."
"A room buried under empty ramen bowls?" Naruko smirked at once.
"Only your half," Hinata covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a giggle, then turned to Menma. In her hands was a neatly wrapped package. "This… is my gift."
She pulled out two elegant bottles of sauce decorated with patterns: one scarlet, the other emerald.
"Spicy — for Naruko," Hinata explained, her voice slightly louder than usual. "And the herbal one is for Menma. It goes well with fish. You once said you liked seafood…"
"You remembered that?" Menma raised his brows in surprise. "Wow."
He carefully carried the gift over to the table set aside for offerings. Meanwhile, Naruko, of course, couldn't resist — she pounced on Hinata with a hug and squeezed her until the poor girl was completely flustered.
Next came Shino, holding a neatly tied box.
"I'm glad you invited me," he said in his measured tone. "I have never been to a birthday before."
Inside was a rare entomology book for Menma and a framed butterfly collection for Naruko. The girl lit up as if she'd just been crowned princess.
Gradually, the rest of the guests gathered. The gift table was piled high: manga, a shogi set, jewelry, even a fluffy pink "princess" dress that Naruko immediately pointed at: "Tomorrow we'll put this on the scarecrow in the garden!"
Laughter rolled through the hall.
When everyone was seated, Menma carried out a huge strawberry cake and carefully set it in the center. The berries on top gleamed so brightly that Choji's eyes lit up at once.
"I told you!" he jabbed Kiba with his elbow. "Now you owe me a bag of chips."
"What were you betting on?" Menma narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I was sure the cake would be ramen-shaped," Kiba sighed in defeat.
"I did have that idea!" Naruko announced readily. "But my brother insisted everything should be 'proper' today."
"And he was right," Shikamaru remarked, pushing aside an empty plate after the treat. He looked straight at Menma. "But tell me honestly… why did you really gather us all here?"
The hall fell silent.
"What a vile suspicion," Menma spread his arms theatrically. "Can't I invite my friends just to have fun?"
"If it were your sister, I'd believe it," Sasuke cut in. He crossed his arms and squinted. "But you… you plan everything too carefully. Spontaneity isn't your style."
All eyes shifted to Menma. Even Naruko gave him a suspicious side glance.
"Hah, sharp eyes, all of you," he muttered, standing up from the table. "Fine. Since you're so distrustful… yes, I do have something special for each of you. Wait here."
The twins slipped out the door, then returned a minute later, dragging a heavy wooden chest packed full of scrolls.
"What's that?" Ino asked in surprise.
"Techniques," Menma explained calmly. "Everything we managed to buy up from Konoha's villagers. And now we want to share them with you."
Kiba and Sasuke exchanged glances, eyes gleaming, though restraint still held them back.
"That's very generous…" Sakura said cautiously. "But techniques are a shinobi's most precious treasure. Can you really just—"
"Sakura-chan, your life matters more!" Naruko exclaimed, and the girl blushed to the tips of her ears. "And that goes for every one of you!"
Her words touched many, but skeptics remained.
Menma stepped forward, his voice firm: "I'll add this — there's a high chance two of you will end up on a team with me. And it benefits me if my future teammates already know the basics, instead of fumbling in the field, risking both their lives and mine."
The combination — Naruko's warmth and care, Menma's pragmatism and calculation — worked perfectly. The tension vanished. The kids leapt from their seats and rushed to the scrolls, each one snatching up whatever landed in their hands first, unrolling and devouring the contents with greedy eyes.
Sasuke's gaze flicked over the lines so fast it seemed the scrolls in his hands burst into light and faded one after another. The Sharingan glowed, letting him absorb technique after technique in moments.
"There's nothing above C-rank here," he finally said, setting aside several scrolls. "But this one…" his fingers closed on a particular scroll, "Fire Style. I'll be taking it."
He barely took a step before Kiba snarled and latched onto the same scroll, his grip locked tight against Sasuke's.
"Hold it, red-eyes!" he growled, yanking it toward himself. "Maybe I've got fire nature too!"
Sasuke answered with a cold stare. Crimson eyes with tomoe clashed against Kiba's feral ones. Neither had any intention of letting go.
"Relax," Menma cut in, patting both on the shoulder. "I've got copies of every scroll. There's enough for everyone."
Sasuke snorted but let go. Kiba also reluctantly unclenched his fingers.
Off to the side, Shino calmly unrolled one of the scrolls. His face didn't change, but his voice carried a faint note of approval: "An interesting technique with senbon."
"Seriously?!" Naruko immediately leaned over his shoulder. "Are you planning to walk around chewing on senbon all the time? That's creepy!"
"I see great tactical advantage in it," he replied evenly. "I'll place one of my insects on the tip of a senbon. Even if I miss, the bug will remain behind the enemy for a surprise attack."
"Uhh… well, okay," Naruko froze, trying to picture Shino with a senbon sticking out of his mouth. "Glad you found something that suits you."
"May I take the puppet control technique?" Hinata raised her hand. "It will help me develop chakra control."
"Take whatever you like," Menma nodded. "By the way, that particular one was sold to us by Mizuki-sensei."
The news went off like a bomb. Everyone erupted at once.
"What?!" Ino's eyes flew wide. "An Academy teacher sells combat techniques?!"
"So he's a hidden puppet master?" Kiba frowned, trying to gauge his sensei's level.
"That explains a lot," Shikamaru drawled thoughtfully.
After heated debate, the class unanimously came to a strange conclusion: Mizuki was the strongest of their teachers.
Meanwhile, everyone had already picked something for themselves: some grabbed the standard drills normally available only to graduates, others snatched up a couple of C-rank techniques suited to their element or fighting style. The atmosphere resembled a bazaar where knowledge was the currency.
Only Sakura still sat in the corner, flipping through scrolls again and again. Her brow furrowed, her hands trembling. For the third time she started from the beginning.
Menma and Naruko exchanged a glance. The sister nodded to her brother. In sync, they pulled out a slightly larger scroll from the cabinet and placed it directly in Sakura's hands.
"We've got a special technique for you," they said in unison.
Sakura hesitantly accepted it. Her eyes widened. "Hair Control Technique… B-rank?!" She almost dropped it. "Things like this are only passed within a clan! Who could possibly sell something like this?!"
"A foolish genin who hasn't yet realized how the system works," Menma waved it off. "What matters is that this technique is perfect for you. Your chakra reserves are tiny, but your control is enormous."
Sakura shook her head, looking away. "But… I can't take it. It's too much… it's B-rank."
"Sakura-chan!" Naruko clapped her on the shoulder. "You're the weakest one in our group!"
Sakura flinched as if struck.
"We're all studying clan techniques," Naruko went on mercilessly. "We'll have something real to face enemies after graduation. And you? Three Academy basics that won't scare even a genin! You need a technique to protect yourself!"
Sakura's gaze swept the circle. No one objected. Some gave awkward smiles, others looked away. Even Hinata only lowered her head.
Then Menma spoke quietly, locking eyes with her: "A shinobi doesn't need a thousand techniques to be strong. Just one that feels made for them. Maito Gai and the Eight Gates. Shisui and Shunshin. Minato and Hiraishin."
Sakura's fingers tightened on the scroll. Doubt melted, giving way to stubbornness. She lifted her head — and for the first time that evening, determination burned in her eyes.
"I… I'll take it," she said firmly.
Then emotion burst through. With eyes shining wet, Sakura stepped forward and hugged both twins at once.
"Thank you!"
"It's all right," Naruko patted her on the back. "That's what friends are for."
Menma, Naruko, and Rock Lee, under the tireless command of Maito Gai, were running single file around the training field, each lap turning into pure torture. On their shoulders — a log as thick as their own bodies. Above their heads — the merciless sun. In their ears — the sensei's shouts, always a mix of enthusiasm and madness.
Back then, just looking at this kind of abuse would've made Menma's eye twitch. He'd never have believed a sane person could willingly sprint around with a log on their head while shouting something "inspiring." But after four years in this cheerful madhouse called the "Power of Youth," he had learned… if not to love it, then at least to endure it.
The secret was simple: turn his brain off. He would sink into his inner space — where there were no sensei's screams, no blazing bonfires of youth, no acoustic torture. Only the steady beat of his heart, his breath, and his steps.
"I CAN FEEL THE FLAMES OF YOUTH IGNITING MY MUSCLES!" Gai roared, as if he wanted the whole of Sunagakure to hear.
"ME TOO, GAI-SENSEI!" Lee echoed, and Menma's eardrums begged for mercy.
Once Rock Lee had fully embraced the Cult of Youth, the team's noise level at least doubled. Sometimes it seemed like he and Gai weren't training, but competing to see who could outshout a herd of buffalo.
"And done!" Gai finally dropped his log, straightened up, and thrust a thumbs-up toward the sky. "Today you surpassed yourselves!"
The Uzumaki twins simply collapsed onto the grass in response. Their lungs burned like blacksmith's bellows, their muscles trembled, sweat stung their eyes. Exhausting? Yes. But still better than before, when after each session they just wanted to lie down and die. Gai was clearly holding back. Not for himself — this jōnin of taijutsu with inhuman stamina could've endured something much harsher. He was pacing it for Lee. And even then, the boy still looked ready to run till nightfall.
"I can see your heart blazing with the fire of youth, Lee-kun!" Gai gave him another thumbs-up. "I'll walk you home. Rest up, Menma and Naruko, until tomorrow!"
And off they went — two green fanatics, cheerfully chanting as they left the field.
"Hold it right there!" Naruko, barely catching her breath, jumped to her feet and jabbed a finger at their backs. "Where do you two keep running off to every day this week?"
"Gai-sensei is teaching me the Eight Gates technique," Lee replied without the slightest hesitation. "Do you want to join us?"
"YOU IDIOT!" Gai bellowed, making the leaves shiver on the trees. He immediately punched Lee in the jaw. The boy crashed down, but his sensei revived him with a flurry of sharp slaps. "A shinobi must never reveal the secrets of his arsenal! For your carelessness — one hundred extra laps!"
"Yes, Gai-sensei!" Lee shouted with joy, not even offended. He grabbed his log and bolted off, trailing a fountain of enthusiasm and droplets of blood from his lip.
"The fault lies with me, too, for my student's recklessness!" Gai lamented, wringing his hands in theatrical despair. "I too will run a hundred laps!"
And with a sob, he sprinted after Lee, leaving behind a green trail of self-flagellation and misery.
[Madhouse.]
When the two green freaks finally finished their punishment and sat back down, Naruko was waiting with the expression of a prosecutor.
"So why did you hide such a cool jutsu from me?" She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Gai. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Just tell me straight — when are you going to teach me the Eight Gates? I'll bet you a bowl of ramen I'll master them five times faster than Lee!"
"I accept your challenge, Naruko-chan!" Lee lit up instantly, almost jumping in place.
But this time, Gai didn't look thrilled about a new rivalry. His usual bravado faded, replaced by painful hesitation. He looked like a father about to explain to his kid that the Disneyland trip was canceled.
[If I don't step in, sis will throw a fit and the whole green circus will collapse.]
"This technique doesn't suit us, Naruko," Menma said calmly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I read in the library: it requires a special physique. If Gai-sensei hasn't offered, it means he's certain we're not fit for it. Unlike Lee."
"Exactly!" Gai jumped in, instantly restoring his trademark mask of enthusiasm. But in his eyes flashed a quiet gratitude toward Menma.
"I'm… special?" Lee whispered, hardly believing it.
"Of course!" Gai pulled him close, as if trying to pour his conviction straight through touch. "You may lack ninjutsu or genjutsu, but your talent in taijutsu is unmatched!"
And Lee burst into tears of joy right on his sensei's shoulder. Gai teared up too, clutching him in a crushing embrace.
The Uzumaki twins exchanged a glance. Their faces mirrored the same thing: an overwhelming, off-the-charts sense of awkwardness.
"From here our paths will part," Lee said, wiping away his tears with his fist. His face shone with determination, as if he had just taken an oath. "We may no longer compete in the same training, but we can measure our strength in sparring! By the time we meet again, I'll be many times stronger!"
He straightened, standing like a steel rod, eyes burning hot enough to set the dry grass aflame.
"Well said, Lee-kun!" Gai clapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly crashed into the ground, but Lee's smile never faltered. Then the sensei turned to the twins. "Unfortunately, I can't teach you my personal techniques. They're too specialized and simply wouldn't suit you. But my doors are always open if you want to discuss or practice taijutsu forms."
"I actually have a question," Menma spoke up. He sat straighter, brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead, and asked calmly, almost casually: "Do you know a combat style designed for two fighters working as a pair? My sister and I have nearly identical stats and perfect synchronicity of movement. I think we should use that."
Gai froze for a moment. Then he stroked his chin, frowned, and began slowly sorting through options in his head.
"Hm… an interesting question. The Inuzuka clan works in tandem with their ninken, yes. The Hokage uses his partner like a staff… but that's not quite it."
"Not it," the twins echoed, shaking their heads in unison.
"Then here's what we'll do," Gai declared solemnly. "I'll ask other taijutsu masters. Perhaps such a style already exists. And if it doesn't…" He clenched his fist, his smile blazing as if it had cut through the clouds. "Then we'll create one together!"
"Thank you, Gai-sensei," Menma bowed slightly, while Naruko gave a thumbs-up, beaming with enthusiasm.
The Green Beasts bid them a warm farewell and headed toward the exit.
As soon as their footsteps faded, Naruko grabbed her brother by the shoulder and spun him around, her eyes blazing with indignation.
"What kind of nonsense was that just now?!" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Special bodies for the bushy-browed duo? Are you serious? We're Uzumaki! We're the ones with special bodies! We could've mastered the most butt-ripping technique in the whole village!"
"And did you think about Lee?" Menma replied calmly, brushing off her hands. His voice was colder than usual. "Gai's already running a circus just to keep him afloat. Lee is a chakra cripple, Naruko. The only reason he wasn't kicked out of the academy is because Gai clung to him with his teeth and promised to make him a shinobi. His entire faith rests on his sensei's words. Now imagine: we suddenly go and master the Eight Gates. What happens to Lee?"
Naruko frowned, but not with her usual certainty.
"He'd stop feeling special," Menma went on. "Lose the one shred of hope he has. And no amount of Gai's shouting about the 'genius of hard work' would bring his belief back."
"…You're probably right," Naruko admitted reluctantly, turning away. "I didn't know you were so… sensitive to other people's problems."
"I'm not just thinking about him, but about us too," Menma snorted. "If you'd kept pressing Gai, it would've ended in a fight. This way, he's still useful to us."
His sister pouted but then burst out:
"It's still unfair!" She bit her lip, looking off to the side. "That technique is perfect for us. We could reinforce our bones with adamantine to reduce strain damage, and heal injuries right after battle… with a saliva exchange!"
"You think I didn't consider that?" Menma sighed, rolling his eyes. "We'll definitely come back to the Eight Gates. Just not now. For now, the important thing is not to lose the only taijutsu master willing to work with us."
"When you put it like that…" Naruko twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Grandpa knows all of Konoha's techniques. He probably knows this one too. If we nag him long enough, maybe he'll share it with his beloved grandchildren…"
Menma smirked and winked.
"Now that's the right train of thought. Uzumaki resourcefulness is in our blood."
The twins exchanged a satisfied look and headed home, chattering over their plan to "storm the Hokage's residence."
Neither of them noticed the thin white snake slithering through the grass. It moved silently, almost blending into the earth, listening intently to their every word.
Five months had passed since Maito Gai decided to devote himself to secret training sessions with Lee. For Menma and Naruko, that meant only one thing: now they had to build muscles without a fanatical overseer who shouted about the Power of Youth every minute.
And, funnily enough, training without a personal coach turned out to be not only manageable — but actually much more pleasant. Nobody yelled in their ears that "a true warrior must carry five pine trunks on his shoulders." Nobody dragged them to the outskirts of the village to slog through mud in the rain while hauling boulders the size of houses. Now the twins had their own training ground — neat, well-kept, with targets, makiwara posts, and even a miniature obstacle course. And boulders had long since been replaced with neat fuinjutsu tags: just slap a seal with stored weight onto your leg, and there you go — twenty kilos, two hundred, take your pick.
Of course, without supervision, training would quickly slide into "let's do it tomorrow." So Gai's place was taken by… a clone. Menma's shadow clone, who after four years under his command had learned the role of personal trainer better than any fitness instructor. That strict double counted reps, corrected stances, and, unlike the original, never gave in to Naruko's pleading "let's finish early."
"Enough. Training is over for today," the clone declared flatly before dispersing, returning chakra to its owner.
The twins, who at that moment were doing upside-down push-ups, collapsed onto the grass in sync, as if switched off. Fuinjutsu slips tore free from their soles, dropped nearby, and sank into the ground, leaving neat little dents.
Menma and Naruko lay sprawled, gasping for air. Their lungs burned, muscles shook, eyes were hazy. It felt like if they blinked a moment too long, they'd never open their eyes again. If Gai were here, he'd surely announce that "only on the verge of death does youth temper itself."
"I'm about to die," Naruko rasped, her tongue slurring like a drunkard's. "We need medicine, fast."
"Me too," Menma answered, forcing his breathing steady. "But I'm not getting up. Bury me here."
"Then I'll save us," his sister declared with tragic flair, trying to push up on her elbows. She swayed — and fell chest-first onto her brother.
The impact was brutal: Menma's insides twisted so hard he almost lost his breakfast.
"Perfect," he groaned. "If your plan was to kill me, you nearly pulled it off."
"What are you waiting for?" Naruko's eyes burned with stubborn fire as she loomed over him like a stern statue. "Let's do it!"
Menma was about to reply with sarcasm, but she didn't give him the chance. She leaned in and, without hesitation, spat right into his mouth.
A green glow of chakra spread through the boy's body, banishing pain and exhaustion in an instant. Muscles stopped aching, tendons stopped burning, his breath evened out. Energy surged through him as if someone had poured a liter of vitality straight into his veins.
"You're disgusting," he muttered, gently laying his sister on the ground and taking the upper position. "But since we started, let's finish."
He repeated the procedure. Naruko flinched in disgust, but when the same green glow lit her body and her fatigue melted away, she sighed in relief.
"Ugh, gross," she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, but her eyes shone with victory. "But it works. I'll endure it for this."
"Me too, sister," Menma nodded. "Though we could end up as characters in Jiraiya's next book."
Blushing, refreshed, and nearly glowing, they were about to head home when a green figure suddenly leapt out of the bushes.
"Greetings, little Uzumaki!" Maito Gai hovered for a heartbeat before landing with arms spread wide. His eyebrows gleamed in the sunlight. "The Power of Youth still burns within you!"
[Oh, Shinigami, not this Youth sermon again.]
Gai swept his gaze over the training ground: shattered targets, mangled makiwara posts, torn-up grass. His smile only grew brighter.
"But why do you still resist wearing my suit?" he continued, striking a model's pose. "It's mankind's greatest invention! Elastic! Aerodynamic!"
"Hey, Bushy-Brows," Naruko planted her fists on her hips and rudely cut him off. "What are you doing here? Tell the truth — did you finally decide to teach us the Eight Gates technique?"
"Uh… no," Gai visibly deflated and quickly turned his eyes to Menma, clearly seeking rescue. "But I did fulfill your request! I learned everything about paired fighting styles!"
Menma raised an eyebrow. [Well, damn, I thought he'd forget. Then again… Gai, forgetting about training? Now that would be truly impossible.]
"That's news," Menma smiled. "Let's go inside. You can tell us over tea."
"I prefer outside!" Gai declared with utmost seriousness and plopped right down on the grass, cross-legged.
Menma gave a restrained nod and sat across from him. Naruko settled nearby, looking as if she were already anticipating some cool new jutsu.
"All right," Menma said. "Talk."
And Gai began to speak. His voice dropped low, serious, stripped of its usual flamboyance — not a teacher now, but a true taijutsu master sharing secrets.
"Paired fighting styles exist all over the world, though they are rare," he began. "Every duo has its own strengths and weaknesses. In Konoha, the best example is our Hokage and his monkey partner. You know of them. In Kumo, the Raikage combines his power with a jinchūriki for decapitating strikes. In Kiri, there are brothers who wield a chain as if it were part of their bodies. In Iwa, the previous Tsuchikage created a perfect copy of himself and fought alongside his double. And in Suna — a puppeteer whose movements merged with his puppet."
He listed them one after another, as if unveiling a map of the world filled with dangerous and strange duos.
[Holy crap. He really gathered a whole library of examples. That means he dug deep. He's definitely moving in the right circles.]
"Wow," Naruko was the first to find words, her eyes blazing. "You mean… we'll have to learn all of that?"
"I don't have detailed instructions," Gai admitted, his voice unusually grave. "But my qualifications should be enough to recreate at least half of those styles from the descriptions."
The twins exchanged glances. From Gai, they usually expected anything: grand speeches, hymns to Youth, random handstands… but not cold analysis.
"Nevertheless, I propose something else," he continued.
And to both their astonishment, the Green Beast suddenly dropped to his knees and bowed low. His palms pressed into the grass, his forehead nearly touching the ground.
"Please!" he exclaimed, his voice full of genuine plea. "Allow me to create a unique paired fighting style for you! It would be my honor to help the children of the Fourth Hokage!"
[Well, look at that. Gai's a Minato fanboy. Though really, why am I surprised? Half of Konoha worships our father. The other half is still bringing flowers to his grave.]
Menma weighed his response carefully. He knew well that gestures like this weren't made lightly. But in Gai's eyes shone true admiration and loyalty — no pretense.
"Of course, we'd be glad to accept your gift," he said at last, and immediately heard a muffled sob.
Gai… had burst into tears. Two honest streams of happiness ran down his face.
"I'll also ask the Hokage to help you," Menma added, pretending not to notice the tears. "If he knows all of Konoha's techniques, then perhaps he also holds knowledge of fighting styles from other lands."
[And besides, taking such 'gifts' without the old schemer's knowledge is dangerous. He'd decide right away that the leash on our necks is slipping.]
"To work alongside the Hokage himself!" Gai's eyes shone so bright it seemed they might blind someone. "What an honor!"
He wiped his tears and suddenly straightened, as if ready to unveil a revolutionary idea:
"I already have a draft! You see, half the mentioned styles require tremendous physical strength. Like the Raikage's, for example. And I thought… what if we draw on the legendary strength of Tsunade! I heard she's your guardian. Perhaps she would help?"
"No problem!" Naruko shot up a thumbs-up as if the matter were already settled.
[Yeah, right. I highly doubt it. That drunkard is our guardian only on paper.]
///
A week passed.
In front of the shrine that had long since become their workshop, the twins finished another batch of work. The last seals sank into a scroll, and with a soft clap it snapped shut.
"Three hundredth!" Naruko proudly lifted the scroll over her head and, without hesitation, hurled it at the Hokage standing opposite. "Mission accomplished! Hand over a new technique!"
The old man deftly caught the scroll with one hand, while the other still held his smoking pipe.
"I always keep my word, Naruko-chan," he said without changing his expression. "Enma told me he taught you everything he knew. Is that true?"
Instead of answering, the twins raised their hands, and sparks of adamantine chakra lit up on their palms. From it extended thin chains tipped with sharp points. They hissed through the air, writhing like snakes before weaving together in a synchronized dance.
"Magnificent control of adamantine," Hiruzen released a smoke ring, his gaze fixed as if beholding a work of art. "Even better than your mother's."
[Definitely better than Enma's. Let's just hope gramps doesn't decide we're a threat to his chair.]
"In that case, you should be able to master this," Hiruzen said, tossing them a scroll marked with the Hokage's seal.
Menma caught it and narrowed his eyes.
"What is this?"
"The Rashōmon Gates," the old man announced proudly. "A technique of Hashirama Senju. Officially ranked B, but in the hands of adamantine users, it becomes a solid A-rank."
"Awesome!" Naruko jumped up and started running circles around the Hokage. "With this, we'll be the coolest genin in the whole village!"
"That's exactly what I expect from you," the Professor smiled, pleased with their reaction. "I had to dig through all of the First Hokage's records to find it."
"Gramps, you're the best paper-fighter ever!" Naruko declared with genuine joy.
Hiruzen choked on his smoke.
[Mhm. He gave us a technique that won't even protect against genin, and pretends it's some great blessing. But you can't argue — it really does belong to the Senju.]
Menma sighed and carefully tucked the scroll away.
"If you're out of ideas for the next technique…" he began. "I've got a request."
The Hokage raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"I'm listening, Menma-kun."
"I need Tsunade's Strength Enhancement technique," the boy said plainly, holding his ground under the heavy stare. "She's a Senju, and the technique is unique. By the terms of our deal, it qualifies."
Hiruzen exhaled a puff of smoke, feigning thought.
"I agree it falls within the contract, but…" he said slowly. "I don't possess that technique myself. And my student is far too busy to return to the village and train you personally. I'm afraid I can't help you."
[The old liar. One order would be enough to drag Tsunade back to Konoha by the scruff of her neck. But no. It's more convenient for him to keep her away and feed us promises.]
"Gramps, do you know taijutsu well?" Naruko asked innocently, switching to plan B.
"I'm renowned as a ninjutsu master," the old man stroked his beard smugly. "But I know a thing or two about taijutsu. Why do you ask?"
"Bushy-Brows wants to create a unique fighting style for us, but he needs help," she blurted out with enthusiasm. "Gramps, help him! We want ass-kicking nin-taijutsu to be cooler than the Raikage!"
Hiruzen fell into thought. His eyes narrowed as though already weighing risks and rewards.
"An interesting challenge," he said at last. "I think I'm ready to take on this project."
"I never doubted you, Gramps!" Naruko shot a finger up, her smile radiant.
"But only after you deliver another three hundred scrolls," he added, and there was steel in his voice. "Everything must be fair."
[Greedy old monkey. Never misses a chance to profit, even when pretending to be a kind grandfather.]
And somewhere nearby, in the shadows, a white snake slithered once again. Silent, unseen, it watched.
/////
Author notes:
I do have a Patreon, where the story is already 10 chapters ahead.
If you'd like to support me personally as an author, I'd be truly grateful.