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Twin Demons. Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 15:36:00 +0000 UTCIn 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.
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