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Twin Demons. Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 16:37:48 +0000 UTCThe first week at the academy flew by unnoticed, and the twins decided to celebrate it with a little family holiday. Their kitchen smelled of freshly brewed tea, sweet cream, and a slightly burnt sponge cake. The cake turned out a bit lopsided, but it was homemade.
Menma poured the fragrant tea into cups with the same measured precision that always drove his sister crazy.
“What do you think of the academy?” he drawled lazily, as if asking casually, though he watched her reaction closely.
Naruko, eyes shining, reached straight for the cake with her hands. Snap — and the spoon smacked her fingers.
“Hey!” She instantly pulled her hand back but didn’t even try to look offended. Her smile stayed put, as if nothing had happened. “Overall, it’s fun. P.E. is the best class! If only they’d cross out grammar and math.”
“You’re complaining too early,” Menma remarked phlegmatically, slicing the cake into neat pieces. “So far it’s just the alphabet and multiplication table. But it gets better. In the final year, for example, they throw in trigonometry.”
[Honestly, I was floored when I saw the curriculum. In the normal world, people reach that around sixteen. Here — at ten. Chakra boosts not only muscles but brains too.]
Naruko took a huge bite and, chewing noisily, declared indignantly:
“What annoys me is that they don’t teach us any jutsu!”
Crumbs scattered on the table, cream smeared across her cheek.
“And how would you know?” Menma ate his slice so primly and calmly that he looked like a little aristocrat.
“Ino’s cousin graduated last year,” Naruko waved a hand carelessly.
[Well, would you look at that. My sister treats the Yamanaka princess like the girl next door. Smart. Not wasting time.]
“And what did she tell you?” Menma asked with polite curiosity.
“That in all six years we’ll only learn three measly jutsu!” Naruko exploded. “Can you believe it? Three!”
She jabbed her fork at the air as if the jutsu were supposed to materialize out of her words.
“And we won’t even start learning them until the fourth year!”
“Wonderful,” Menma muttered, frowning. “So what are we supposed to do before that?”
“Chakra control,” his sister declared in a prophet’s tone, already reaching for a second slice. “First year — internal control. Second — infusing skin and muscles. Third — controlling it outside the body.”
She said it with such despair, like someone was stealing her toys.
[Logically, it makes sense. But still suspicious. Six years for three techniques? They don’t even cover chakra nature. Feels like the village is deliberately holding kids back. Probably so they don’t accidentally raise competitors for the Hokage’s chair.]
Naruko puffed her cheeks and gave her brother a pitiful look.
“It’s not fair! Ino-chan already knows a clan technique, and I’ll only get my first one in three years.”
“Life’s unfair in general,” Menma sighed philosophically. “If Father were alive, we’d already be learning Rasengan.”
For a second Naruko looked sad, but keeping her in that mood was impossible. A spark of mischief instantly lit up in her eyes.
“Brooother!” she whined the word theatrically, like a spoiled child. “Let’s beg Grandpa to give us some cool technique!”
“Pointless,” Menma cut coldly without even lifting his eyes from his cup. “You heard Mizuki-sensei. Without basic chakra mastery, jutsu just won’t work.”
He noticed the way the enthusiasm dimmed in his sister’s eyes and almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“That’s why,” he continued firmly, “we’ve only got one option: train chakra control. Stages one, two, and three. We’ve got two days off ahead — and we’ll spend them training.”
Naruko clenched her fists and nodded fiercely.
“I’m ready to start right now!”
She squeezed her eyes shut and formed the concentration seal with exaggerated force, as if it were a physical workout.
Menma only sighed, grabbed a napkin, and carefully wiped the cream off her cheek. Then he got up and went to wash the dishes.
[She’s lucky. At least she can focus. My thoughts jump around like fleas on a dog. Take Ino — she already uses her clan technique. That means her chakra control is at least average. And Sasuke? He spits out a fireball like it’s nothing! Which means he’s already got chakra nature transformation plus above-average control. And here we are, looking like weaklings in a gym. If I don’t pull something extreme soon, we’ll graduate at the same level as the original Naruto. And that’s… let’s just say, not ideal.]
When he finished with the plates, Menma wasn’t done. He sat down and spent another two hours trying to stir his chakra. All he managed was a brief vibration that vanished immediately.
[Still progress. But way too slow.]
///
Menma stretched out on his bed, feeling the unfamiliar space. Just a couple of months ago he and his sister had been crammed into one room, and now each of them had their own little kingdom. Small, but theirs. The moment he closed his eyes, he slipped into the familiar void of the seal — a place of darkness, iron scent, and that eternal heavy silence.
The giant cage appeared before him again. Rusted bars rose into the unseen heights of endless night. Behind them sat the beast — the one he hadn’t seen for two months.
“Menma,” Kurama said coldly, sitting cross-legged with his paws folded in a lotus pose. His eyes glowed lazily, like two red lanterns. “Why do you distract me?”
[Ah, the usual frosty greeting. If I didn’t know better, I’d really think he was displeased. But I can see those tails twitching. Admit it, flea-bag, you’re glad I’m back. Almost purring with anticipation.]
“I’ve got a problem,” Menma said bluntly. “My chakra control is worse than a stool’s. And I think you can help.”
“Perhaps,” the fox drawled, looking down with imperial disdain. “But what are you prepared to offer in return for my services?”
“No idea,” Menma shrugged. “I’m the son of a hero, a potential head of the Uzumaki clan… But in reality, I’ve got no power in my hands.”
“Ha!” Kurama snorted, baring his fangs. “The Hokage handed you a shiny wrapper — big, glittering, but completely empty.”
Menma frowned.
“Not entirely empty. At least now my sister and I don’t live in a cramped shack, but in the Shinigami temple, on our ancestors’ land.”
“I know that temple,” Kurama growled with disdain. “Rotting walls and floor — nothing compared to your parents’ true legacy.”
[Right, sure. As if Minato personally showed you the will and attached a bank statement. Keep talking, schemer. I’ll play the gullible child for now.]
After a long pause, the beast finally opened his eyes.
“I’ve considered your request. In the temple’s central hall, three steps from the altar, there’s a hidden descent into a cellar. The barriers there will hide you from any eyes.”
[Well, well. A secret underground hall I didn’t know about. That little tidbit alone is worth gold. But I can’t show excitement yet. Need to squeeze every drop out of him.]
“In the cellar you’ll practice a technique I’ll show you,” Kurama said, slowly rising to his feet. His silhouette blocked half the cage. “Watch closely…”
“Wait!” Menma raised his hands. “Why in some dusty cellar? Wouldn’t outside be better — fresh air, space?”
The fox’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropped low and threatening.
“Because outside, you’ll be killed.”
Menma’s brows knit.
“By who?”
“The Hokage,” the demon growled, as if it were obvious. “Haven’t you realized? He’s stunting your growth. If he wanted you strong, he would’ve taken you as a personal student long ago. But he doesn’t need a rival for power. Hiruzen wants you weak and convenient.”
[Damn. Ugly to hear… but there’s iron logic in the furball’s words.]
“My technique will grant you power quickly,” Kurama went on, his voice rustling like leaves. “But the training must remain hidden. Otherwise you won’t survive.”
Menma shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes narrowing.
“So what’s the technique?”
“Mass Shadow Clones,” the fox pronounced, as if offering the forbidden fruit. “Thousands of copies made from chakra. Every clone — boosts your experience and knowledge. You’ll catch up and surpass your peers many times faster.”
A flicker of greed stirred inside Menma, but he kept his voice steady.
“Suppose so. But how am I supposed to use a jutsu when my control is garbage?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” the demon grinned. “Shadow Clones don’t need control. Only chakra. A huge amount of it.”
“And do I even have enough?” Menma asked skeptically.
“I’ll share,” Kurama spread his tails, each swaying with his words. “You’ll have access to the power of the strongest bijuu.”
“And my sister?” Menma asked suddenly, his tone sharp. “She needs to be strong too.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the fox’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I already converse with the part of me in her seal. Naruko will also have my chakra. It’s settled. Now — the price.”
Menma exhaled heavily.
“And here I thought you might forget about that. Well?”
“You’ll come to me every day and tell me what happened to you,” came the reply.
[Oh, come on. A thousand-year monster interested in my boring daily life? ‘Today we skipped math class…’ I know exactly what you’re doing. It’s not a price, it’s a leash. But arguing is pointless.]
“Fine,” Menma nodded.
Kurama slowly folded his paws, showing a familiar cross-shaped seal.
“Watch and repeat. Picture yourself — and chakra will do the rest. You’re not creating fire or water, just copying yourself. That’s why the technique is simple.”
[Mhm. Now I get why Naruto in canon pulled it off in five minutes in the woods. Really doesn’t take brains. Just enough chakra.]
///
The morning started off briskly. Barely finishing breakfast, Menma grabbed his sister by the hand and practically dragged her toward the Hokage Tower. Naruko chattered the whole way about wanting to hang out with her friends, but Menma only nodded and quickened his pace.
The secretary, long used to the twins’ visits, didn’t even raise a brow. As always, he opened the door and let them into the office.
Inside, the air smelled of paper, ink, and smoke. Hiruzen sat behind a massive desk buried under scrolls and reports. He hardly seemed to notice the children enter, yet his eyes stayed sharp.
“Yes?” he asked calmly, looking up from the papers at Menma. “You were here yesterday. Don’t tell me you need more training advice already?”
“No,” the boy cut in. “Kurama spoke to me again.”
The air in the room grew instantly heavier. The lines on Hiruzen’s face deepened as he slowly set the papers aside and took up his pipe. A lighter clicked, smoke curled.
“What did he want this time?” the Hokage asked grimly.
Menma pretended to hesitate.
“I had… a troubling dream. That Naruko and I would be held back a year because of poor chakra control.”
Hiruzen sighed softly, giving him a look of gentle reproach.
“Now, now, Menma-kun. No need to wear yourself out with worry this early. The year’s just begun. I’m sure you and your sister will manage if you work hard.”
[Yeah, sure. We’ll scrape by on the minimum passing grade, out of pity.]
“But the dream broke off,” Menma continued, “and I found myself in front of Kurama’s cage. He said he saw my problems and was ready to help.”
Hiruzen leaned forward, pipe frozen in his hand.
“So the bijuu can enter his jinchūriki’s dreams… interesting. And what happened next, Menma-kun?”
“He said he’d share his chakra and showed me a technique.”
“I see.” Hiruzen’s brows drew together, his voice dropped lower. “Now slowly show me the seals — without channeling chakra.”
Menma nodded and folded his fingers into a cross.
The silence was broken by the Hokage’s dry chuckle.
“Mass Shadow Clones, is it?” He exhaled smoke and studied his adopted grandson, as if trying to read his thoughts. “Did Kurama say anything else?”
“He did,” Menma answered evenly. “That I should train where no one can find me.”
A heavy pause stretched out. Hiruzen smoked quietly, staring into the ceiling. Menma forced himself to look patient, though inside he was itching. Naruko shifted restlessly, glancing between her brother and the Hokage, baffled by the tense silence.
Finally, Hiruzen spoke:
“You did the right thing telling me everything, Menma-kun. You and Naruko aren’t little anymore, so I’ll be honest.” He took a drag; smoke rose in rings toward the ceiling. “Your father designed the seal so that the Nine-Tails’ chakra constantly mixes with yours. That makes you stronger, more resilient. But there’s a drawback: the more chakra you burn, the faster the seal weakens.”
He pointed the stem of his pipe at Menma.
“And Mass Shadow Clones is one of the most chakra-draining techniques there is. Use it constantly, and you’re guaranteeing Kurama’s release.”
[Knew it. I knew it before this talk. The original Naruto almost cracked open every day after Jiraiya’s training. So forget about some secret cellar with Kurama. Sorry, fox — your plan’s toast.]
“But…” Menma’s voice came out a touch softer than he wanted. “Shadow Clones really could help me, right?”
“They could,” Hiruzen admitted, sending up another cloud of smoke and closing his eyes. “I could forbid you from using the technique at all. But I understand — resisting will be hard once your classmates get ahead.”
He fell silent, puffing on his pipe, and the room seemed frozen in time.
“All right,” Hiruzen said at last. “I’ll allow you both to use Mass Shadow Clones. But only under supervision. Either myself or Enma must be present. Always.”
“And if the seal starts to tear?” Menma asked cautiously.
“I have ways to patch it,” the Hokage answered calmly. “Now go train, my children. I want you to become the strongest graduates of the academy.”
“Grandpa, you’re the best!” Naruko squealed, throwing herself at him with a tight hug.
Menma only smiled faintly.
[Perfect. I can already guess how Hiruzen plans to keep Kurama on a short leash. And honestly? That suits me just fine.]
///
Back at the temple, the twins scrambled straight onto the roof. Naruko bounced with impatience, while Menma tried to keep serious — though the fire of anticipation burned in his chest too.
“Watch,” he said, forming the seal. “It’s simple. Mass Shadow Clone Jutsu!”
He poured in everything he had. White smoke filled the yard, wrapped the temple walls, spread into the air like a fog.
When it cleared, an entire army stood before them — a thousand Menmas, all frowning the same, all equally focused.
[Whoa. A thousand?! And that’s with my lousy control? What happens once I polish it?]
Naruko froze in place, her mouth falling open, eyes sparkling as if fireworks had suddenly lit the sky.
“Woooooah!!!” she drew out, her voice echoing through the whole temple. “I’ve got… a thousand brothers now!”
She leapt forward, ran up to the nearest clone, and poked him in the nose. He looked at her seriously and poked her back the same way.
“Holy crap!” Naruko was nearly breathless with excitement. “That’s an army! Hey, bro, let’s send them all to construction work! Imagine — a thousand you laying tiles! We’ll be millionaires in a day!”
A couple of clones exchanged glances and sighed in sync.
“Or-or!” She dashed between clones, buzzing with energy. “We’ll open the Uzumaki Theater! A thousand Menmas in different roles! Brother, you’ll be a star!”
“Gentlemen,” the original said wearily, “ignore her. You know what to do.”
The clones nodded in unison and immediately began running chakra through their networks.
“Hey!” Naruko protested, then suddenly grinned slyly. “Although, you know… now I can say I’ve got the biggest reverse harem in Konoha!”
A hundred clones facepalmed at once and dispersed into smoke.
Menma sighed tiredly.
[God, how I… love my sister.]
///
By evening, when the village had already sunk into silence, four figures gathered in a special hall for secret meetings. The room had no windows, its walls reinforced with layers of seals against eavesdropping and prying eyes.
Hiruzen sat at the head of the long table, calmly packing his pipe. To his left and right sat the advisors, Utatane and Mitokado, frowning, grim, like carved statues. Slightly apart, in his usual shadow, stood Danzo, leaning on his staff. His voice was the first to cut through the silence, creaking like rusted metal:
“I saw what those children did. The whole village saw.”
“Are you dissatisfied, Danzo?” Hiruzen asked, pretending the matter was trivial.
“At this pace, the jinchūriki will grow too strong,” he snapped. “They’ll become a threat.”
The advisors traded looks. The wrinkles on Utatane’s and Mitokado’s brows deepened; powerful jinchūriki were something nobody wanted.
“No,” Hiruzen countered softly. He lit his pipe and drew in the aromatic smoke. His eyes gleamed slyly beneath half-closed lids. “I studied Minato’s seal right after his death. With such strain, the Nine-Tails will break free within ten months at most. Likely sooner. By then, they’ll only be at the level of a strong genin — nothing more.”
“And where’s the joy in that?” Utatane finally burst out, lifting her chin coldly. “We’ll lose our jinchūriki!”
“We won’t,” Hiruzen exhaled a smoke ring, savoring the effect. “By the time the seal hits its limit, I’ll overlay it with my own Evil Sealing Method. It’ll carve the Nine-Tails’ chakra out of their bodies. Their own willpower will handle the rest.”
“So they’ll lose all the passive advantages,” Mitokado muttered, chewing his lip. “Why all this trouble? You could’ve simply forbidden them from using Shadow Clones.”
“Forbidden?” Hiruzen chuckled. “Tell that to the Nine-Tails. He has access to their chakra networks, can give them as much as he wants. He can cut them off completely. I think he’s been deliberately sabotaging their control just to extend a helping paw later.”
The words dropped like a weight. Even Danzo frowned. None of them liked the thought of the fox playing his own game with their pawns.
“The Nine-Tails would’ve shaken the seal sooner or later anyway,” Hiruzen continued, tapping the pipe’s stem idly against the table edge. “He’d just pour more chakra into every jutsu and wait for the breakthrough. Minato was a genius, but far too naive. He believed his children could befriend the demon.”
“Then why not put your patch in right now?” Utatane asked sharply. “We’ve already seen the Nine-Tails is dangerous. Seal him up.”
Hiruzen shook his head. A steel spark flickered in his eyes.
“The drawback of my seal is that it relies on the host’s willpower. The moment a child wishes for power again, it collapses instantly. No, they must burn themselves on the Nine-Tails’ chakra first. Feel how dangerous it is to reach for him. And I… I’ll be the one to save them.”
He smiled faintly, like an old actor repeating his favorite line.
Danzo tapped his staff, breaking the silence.
“And if war breaks out? And we’re left with two jinchūriki who fear their own strength?”
“Then,” Hiruzen squinted through the smoke, “for their beloved grandfather’s sake, they’ll step past that fear.”
