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Twin Demons. Chapter 25
🕑 Added 2025-09-21 14:28:20 +0000 UTCBy 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.”
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