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Twin Demons. Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 12:49:18 +0000 UTCThe Uzumaki twins stood in front of a large mirror. Their new looks matched surprisingly well—identical hairstyles, just like Minato’s. A universal cut: loose enough for rooftop chases or brawls in the dirt, neat enough to suit both a boy and a girl.
Green jackets with a bright red Uzumaki crest on the back fit perfectly—custom made. Black pants gave off a battle-ready vibe. And most importantly, their feet were now in boots. Real ones. Sturdy, closed-toe boots, not those ridiculous sandals that let dust, dirt, and pebbles sneak right under your toes.
Menma looked at their reflection and sighed with pride. Those boots had cost him a full-blown expedition through Konoha’s shops. First came the mocking looks from shopkeepers—why would a kid want footwear “out of style”? Then came the endless stalls lined with row upon row of the same open sandals. And only at the far end of the market, with an elderly merchant whose wares no one seemed to buy anymore, did he stumble upon this rarity.
[Fans always invent excuses for shinobi footwear. Open toes help chakra flow through the soles, make balancing on water easier… All nonsense. The real reason is simple: fashion. Sandals in the shinobi world are as cultish as those low-waist pants back in my… well, in another world. But times change—Boruto’s era proves it. Almost everyone wears proper shoes there. Even Madara, after getting the Jūbi’s power, couldn’t resist switching. And copying such a colorful figure? That’s practically a holy duty.]
“So? What do you think?” he asked lazily, watching his sister practically dance in front of the mirror, trying to see herself from every angle.
“They won’t be able to tell us apart now!” Naruko exclaimed, unable to hold back her trademark grin—the one that always spelled trouble for everyone else. “Tremble, Academy! Two hurricanes are about to hit your walls!”
Menma crossed his arms and snorted.
“Let’s just go already. Though I hope you plan on doing more than driving poor teachers insane.”
“Not a chance!” Naruko laughed brightly. “I carry the legacy of both our parents! From Mom—the talent to drive people crazy. From Dad—the knack for being the best at everything! You’ll see, I’ll troll everyone and still graduate number one!”
Menma chuckled, though his eyes softened slightly.
[Now that’s the spirit! Took me two whole months of nudging her in that direction. And now she’s promised it herself. And Naruko never breaks promises. That means she’ll sink her teeth into her studies for real. Which leaves me with only one option—not to fall behind.]
The twins stepped outside, greeted by Konoha’s usual bustle. People flowed toward the center like a stream: parents with kids, friends and relatives, all in high spirits. The Academy’s opening day always had the air of a small festival.
“Little Yondaimes,” passersby cooed, lingering on the twins.
“Grow up to protect the village like your father,” others encouraged.
Menma’s expression twisted in a way only his sister noticed, but she chose not to comment.
[Hypocrites. Just two months ago they recoiled from us like we were diseased. Spat behind our backs, whispered about the Kyūbi’s curse. But the moment the Hokage declared us Minato’s children, everything flipped—they’re licking our boots now. Disgusting.]
Naruko, however, didn’t burden herself with such thoughts. Every time someone called her “heroine” or “Yondaime’s daughter,” she only shone brighter, like a little sun.
[For her happiness, I can put up with hypocrites.]
They reached the Academy, where a crowd of first-years had already gathered with their parents. Children were lined up in front, easy for everyone to see—the village’s future shinobi. Adults clustered behind them, chatting amongst themselves.
On the platform beside the teachers stood the Hokage. Old Hiruzen, in his eternal hat and with his ever-benevolent smile, slowly swept his gaze across the crowd. His eyes lingered on the twins for a moment, and he gave them a slight nod.
Menma narrowed his eyes.
[After I told him about my last talk with Kurama—that the fox decided to stop communicating—Hiruzen sighed with relief. And then… pulled back. No more visits, no more gifts, no more attempts at contact. The old man decided his job was done. Jinchūriki under control, no threat, time to relax. Yeah, right. That needs fixing—and soon.]
The Hokage cleared his throat and launched into a long speech. His voice was solemn, polished with well-rehearsed intonations, as if he’d delivered it a hundred times already. He spoke of Konoha’s proud history, of the endless Will of Fire that united all villagers. Each sentence dragged like chewing gum, sounding more and more like a lullaby.
Within minutes, half the crowd—including adults!—were already nodding off.
“Oh, Shinigami,” Naruko groaned, barely holding back a yawn right in the Hokage’s face. “So. Boring!” She stretched each word as if enduring torture.
Menma smirked faintly.
“Bear with it,” he whispered. “See how only the first-years are stuck up front? We’re basically on display. Everyone else can wander around. Next year, we just show up at the end of the speech and we’re golden.”
Naruko squeaked in delight, as if he had revealed the universe’s greatest secret.
“Brilliant!” she almost shouted, then bit her tongue just in time.
From the side came a muffled chuckle. A boy with pineapple-shaped hair tilted his head slightly and gave a nod of full approval.
[Ah, first bonus already. School hasn’t even started, and I’ve scored points with the Nara heir. Nice start.]
But suddenly Menma felt another gaze on him. Not curious, not warm—heavy, cold, the kind that carried the thought of killing. He turned his head carefully. Among the parents stood a man in strict clothing, the Uchiha crest on his back. Fugaku. And he wasn’t looking at his own son, Sasuke, who stood just a few steps away. His eyes were fixed directly on the twins.
[Oh, great. Another Uchiha pissed at the world. Guess Madara and Obito weren’t enough of a cautionary tale? Trying to control the Kyūbi always ends the same way—total failure. But apparently the emotions behind the Sharingan drown out basic common sense.]
Meanwhile, the Hokage finally steered his speech to a close.
“…And in conclusion,” his voice suddenly picked up energy, “may the Will of Fire always burn brightly in your hearts!”
The crowd stirred and burst into applause. The twins, like it or not, had to clap as well—otherwise it would look too defiant.
“First-years,” a man in a green vest with a scar across his nose approached them. “Follow me.”
The children filed after their new teacher. Parents waved, some sniffled, a few mothers dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs as if sending their kids off to war.
Out of the corner of his eye, Menma noticed Sasuke craning his neck, desperately searching for his father. But Fugaku had already left the square without so much as a glance back. The boy’s face darkened, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh.
The Academy’s halls greeted the newcomers with the smell of chalk and ink. They were led into a spacious classroom with long rows of desks and a large green board on the wall.
“Take any seat,” the teacher said. “You’ll be free to move around later if you want.”
The twins exchanged a look and headed straight for the back row in perfect agreement. Sitting in the shadows and watching everyone—that was their strategy.
And indeed, there was plenty to watch. The front rows were immediately claimed by the ambitious ones—those eager for the teacher’s attention. Among them, a pink-haired head stood out.
The middle rows were quieter. That’s where the undecided sat. Like Hinata, hunched over her desk, doing her best impression of not existing.
In the back, besides the twins, a lazy pineapple-headed boy—Shikamaru—settled in. Chōji plopped heavily down behind him, already fishing a bag of chips from his pocket.
Meanwhile, Ino was already chirping with two girls, clearly securing allies from the very first minute.
“All right,” the teacher began, drawing their attention. “Today is your first school day. We’ll be spending six years together. So let’s introduce ourselves. Each of you will come up and tell us a bit about yourself. I’ll start.”
The man stepped in front of the board.
“My name is Umino Iruka. I like teaching. What I don’t like are disobedient students.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the class, with the pink-haired girl giggling the loudest.
Iruka smiled, pleased with himself at the reaction.
Menma snorted.
[Seriously? She’s only six and already sucking up. Usually talents like that don’t bloom until around twelve, but chakra changes the rules—it sharpens the brain even passively. So no, these kids are definitely not fools.]
“Now you,” Iruka pointed at the girl in the front row. It was clear he intended to go in order—from the front to the back.
“H-Haruno Sakura,” the girl with big green eyes stood, stammering slightly. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but her voice rang out clear. “I like… umm…” She bit her lip, exhaled. “My dream is to open a sweets shop! And what I don’t like… is rain.”
She grew bolder and smiled, clearly pleased with herself for getting through it.
[Yeah, she’s cute—will grow into a beauty. But those dreams… Hah. By graduation each one will change a hundred times. First a sweets shop, then a career as a medic, then “I’ll marry Sasuke.” Not worth remembering.]
After that, Menma tuned out and only caught the names of his classmates.
He was close to dozing off when Naruko tugged gently at the hem of his jacket.
“Hey,” she whispered while a boy in a high collar and dark glasses—hiding his eyes completely—walked up to the board. “Did you notice? There are only thirty of us here. But in the square, there were at least three times more first-years.”
Menma yawned into his fist.
“Split into classes. Normal thing. One teacher can’t handle a hundred kids.”
“But why are we in Class One?” Naruko frowned, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Is this… like an elite class?”
Menma smirked crookedly.
“Yep. Just look at who’s sitting with us.”
At that moment, a boy with red fang-like marks on his cheeks strode to the board. He moved with confidence, even swagger, as if the stage belonged to him.
“I’m Inuzuka Kiba!” he declared with a wide grin. “I like going for walks, I hate cleaning up, and my dream is to become head of the Inuzuka clan, just like my mom!”
A few kids clapped, impressed by his energy.
Menma leaned toward his sister.
“See? A good third of this class are clan heirs. We’re here for the same reason—Uzumaki and jinchūriki.”
“And the rest?” Naruko pressed.
“Just lucky brats who got dropped into the same class as the golden kids,” Menma muttered, while a plain-looking girl walked nervously to the front—he barely remembered seeing her in the square. Probably the daughter of a hospital nurse. “Basically, this class is a sandbox for future alliances. Clan heirs learn to stick around each other so their families can play nice later on.”
“Troublesome,” groaned Shikamaru, already sprawled on his desk beside the twins.
Menma barely stifled a smirk.
[Can’t argue. Honestly, I agree with him. Formally, I’m heir of the Uzumaki clan, except there’s no clan left. In reality, I’m under Hiruzen’s watchful eye—and that ‘kind grandpa’ won’t let me get too cozy with other clans. Kami forbid one of them tries nudging me against him.]
Finally, the twins’ turn came. Iruka pointed their way—and he shouldn’t have done it so casually.
Menma and Naruko leapt to their feet in perfect sync. For a moment, it seemed like one person and his shadow clone were standing there.
They marched to the board in step, stopped shoulder to shoulder, and declared:
“My name is Uzumaki Menruko!”
Their voices overlapped with such flawless timing that the words blended into one absurd chorus.
“I like brewing books. I dislike baked hammers. And my dream is to open a secondhand Hokage shop.”
The class exploded with laughter. Even the stoniest faces cracked into giggles.
Iruka blinked several times, clearly struggling to process what he’d just heard.
“Wait… but… you… you got it mixed up!” His voice wavered in confusion.
The twins turned to him at once, arms folding across their chests in perfect unison. Two identical faces stared at the teacher with sage-like seriousness.
“No,” they said in chorus.
“Hah! Best prank of the day!” Kiba roared, nearly falling off his chair.
“Amusing,” Shikamaru drawled lazily, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Guess school won’t be so troublesome after all.”
“That’s wrong,” Sakura tried to keep her serious-girl act, but her shoulders shook with stifled laughter.
“You understand this isn’t acceptable,” Iruka despaired, clutching his head. “You’re two different people!”
“Of course,” the twins nodded in unison, deadpan. “We are Menruko. We’re not confused. You’re confused, teacher.”
The class collapsed under the desks. Even Hinata, who had sat quietly blushing until now, covered her mouth and laughed softly. Sasuke, trying hard to keep his Uchiha face, let out a snort and quickly turned to the window as if he didn’t care.
Iruka massaged his temples like a migraine was coming on.
“These two will shred my nerves faster than the final exams,” he muttered under his breath.
[Heh. Told you—I’m not letting my sister outdo me in anything. Not even trolling.]
“Enough!” Iruka smacked the desk with his palm. “I’ll prove you’re different! Uh… favorite fruit! Now!”
“Bananapple,” the twins answered together.
“Aha!” Iruka brightened as if he’d caught them red-handed. “That’s two different fruits!”
“No,” they deadpanned.
“It’s one,” Menma added.
“Just longer,” Naruko finished.
The class erupted again. Even the “proper aristocrats” cracked and laughed openly. Hinata flushed but giggled out loud. Sasuke, despite himself, snickered.
“This isn’t fair!” Iruka groaned, grabbing his head with both hands.
“Fairness is for bores,” Menma observed philosophically.
“And fun is for us,” Naruko beamed.
The twins bowed in perfect sync, like actors after a triumphant performance, then returned to their seats radiating absolute victory.
“Oh, Kami,” Iruka lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if praying. “Grant me strength to see these two through graduation…”
And, muttering almost too quietly to hear:
“…or the Hokage will sell my ass to shinobi of the Cloud.”
