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Twin Demons. Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 21:38:04 +0000 UTC"Me-een-maaa!" Naruko's voice shattered the morning silence like a rock through glass.
The girl dashed across the room, leapt onto her brother’s bed, bounced twice with a pleased "boing! boing!" and, for the grand finale, plopped right onto his stomach.
The book in Menma’s hands jolted. He barely had time to move it away from his face to avoid getting smacked in the nose by the pages.
"You lost your mind or something?" He raised an eyebrow slightly, peering at her over the cover.
"I'm boooored!" Naruko shoved the book aside and hovered over him, her big blue eyes sparkling. "Let’s go out!"
"Fine," Menma calmly closed the book, neatly slipping in the bookmark. "Good chance to explore Konoha."
[Up until now we’d only roamed the village under the watch of caretakers from the orphanage. Today — official freedom.]
"Yay!" Naruko shot off the bed, already bouncing in place from excitement. "First, the Hokage Monument! Then the candy shop! Then—"
"Then — the bookstore. To buy textbooks for the Academy."
The effect was worse than a bucket of cold water. Her face twisted as if she’d bitten into a lemon and swallowed the peel.
"Ewwww! Reading’s boring!"
"And without books, they won’t even let you into the Academy," Menma laced his fingers behind his head and gave a lazy smirk. "I’ll make tons of friends there and have fun every day. You’ll stay home."
"What?!" Naruko flared up like a kettle without a lid. "You think you’re gonna have fun without me!? No way!"
She lunged for him, but Menma slid off the bed in one smooth motion.
"Hey, wait!" She pounced after him, but he was already on the other side of the bed.
"They’ll kick you out for not doing homework," he teased, circling the furniture. "Guess you’ll have to read the textbooks."
"I will!" she shot back, edging toward him from the side. "Even more than you!"
[That’s the spirit. No way I’m letting her grow up as scatterbrained as the original Naruto.]
The next second, he deliberately slowed down, letting her grab his shirt. They tumbled to the floor, and a merciless tickle war began.
"Aaah! Mercy!" Menma gasped with laughter, trying to crawl away.
"Never!" Naruko relentlessly attacked his ribs.
"Why would you want a dead brother?" he panted. "I’m worth more alive!"
"Fine, I’ll let you go," she said grandly, pulling her hands away. "But in return, you buy me something tasty."
"Little devil," he snorted, getting to his feet. "First, let’s check our finances."
They both went to the bed. Menma lifted the mattress and pulled out a bundle — a couple of documents, a folded sheet of paper, and a neatly tied stack of bills.
[Mhm. For a professional thief, this ‘stash’ is like an open door with a sign saying ‘Come in, take what you want.’ For a shinobi, it’s a circus. Here’s hoping Konoha’s thieves have enough morals not to rob orphans’ homes.]
First, he unfolded the sheet with the list of first-year textbooks. The corners were already crumpled — Naruko had used it as a tea coaster a couple of times.
Then he counted the money: two standard monthly orphan stipends plus a small bonus — birthday money from Hiruzen.
[Same every year. On our birthday, the ‘kind old man’ tosses us a bit more pocket change than usual. And that’s it. Could’ve honored our parents’ last wish — but no. Instead, he hands out scraps with a smile.]
Menma hesitated for a couple of seconds, then stuffed the whole bundle of cash into his bag.
"Isn’t that too much?" Naruko’s eyes widened. "What, are the textbooks that expensive?"
"Doubt it," he replied, making sure the bills lay flat. "But we still need proper clothes. And food. The orphanage’s care package will run out soon."
He glanced toward the kitchen corner — two short crates sat on the floor: a few packs of instant noodles, a bottle of milk, a bag of rice, toothpaste, a bar of soap, and a couple of odds and ends.
[For two Uzumaki, that’s enough for a week. Week and a half if we ration. Hopefully Konoha’s prices aren’t brutal, or we’ll be fishing in the river.]
They left the apartment. Outside, it was a warm weekend: the sun stood high, the streets bustled with people, the noise mixing with the scent of grilled fish and fresh bread.
Menma walked, watching the flow of passersby. Telling a shinobi from an ordinary villager was easy — and not just because of headbands or vests. Chakra changed people. Even without a trained eye, you could spot it: skin clear, teeth strong, hair gleaming like they visited a spa every day. Sometimes there were wrinkled old folks or the massive Akimichi, but those were exceptions.
[Honestly, watching the local kunoichi is a pleasure. Too bad they don’t seem all that eager to look back.]
The moment anyone noticed the twins’ red hair and the whisker marks on their cheeks, their expressions changed: brows drew together, lips curled. Some even crossed to the other side of the street.
[And here’s the question of the century: how come every dog in this village knows that Naruko and I are jinchūriki, yet nobody knows who our parents were? That’s the real important part. Infuriating.]
"Look!" Naruko grabbed his arm and tugged him toward a shop window.
Behind the glass, neat pastries sat on white trays. One stood out in particular — chocolate, with tiny silver droplets scattered on top like miniature stars.
"Can we get it?" Her eyes lit up instantly.
Menma glanced at the price tag and raised an eyebrow — clearly overpriced. Then he looked back at her.
[Damn it, that look… like a kitten already halfway onto your lap.]
"Let’s go," he sighed.
"Yes!" She happily dragged him inside.
The bell above the door jingled, and a sweet mix of cream and fresh pastry hit his nose. The shopkeeper, thin and balding, was lifting a bucket of water, but upon seeing new customers, set it aside and attempted a smile.
"How can I—" he began, but when his eyes registered the red hair, his face twisted. "Get out, you demon spawn!"
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a wet rag and threw it at them. Poor aim — it slapped against the wall, leaving a dirty smear, and slid down.
"Out!" he barked, snatching up a mop and stepping forward.
Menma silently caught Naruko by the hand and led her outside before the man could come closer.
"I never want to see you here again!" the shout followed them. "Bastards!"
Naruko walked beside him, staring at the ground.
"Why’s he like that with us?.. " she asked quietly, her voice trembling. "We didn’t… do anything."
People passing by gave them sidelong glances — some with open satisfaction, some with mild contempt. Nobody intervened.
Something cold and vicious stirred inside Menma. He could feel rage pounding in his temples.
[Some second-rate little nobody just made my sister cry. And he thinks he’s getting away with it? No. He’s not.]
He scanned the square — and spotted a huge man on a bench, rough-looking with a black bandana. Something clicked in his mind. A smile, soft and dangerous, spread across his face.
Menma twitched his fingers slightly, showing his sister a quick sequence of hand signs.
The Fourth Hokage’s daughter understood immediately. Her lips curved into the same foxlike grin.
She slipped silently behind the big man, snatched the bandana from his head, and tossed it to her brother. Menma caught it and, without pause, hurled it straight at the pastry chef’s back just as he was heading back into the shop.
"Huh? Wha—?" The thug automatically ran a hand over his now-bare scalp and spun around.
At the same time, the shopkeeper picked up the bandana, staring at it in confusion.
"You’re dead!" the big man barked, charging at him.
"Hey! Don’t hit me! This is a mistake!" the seller yelped, backing away as the thug loomed over him like a mountain.
The twins, barely holding back laughter, were already turning the corner.
"Ha!" Naruko wiped her eyes. "That was genius, brother!"
"I know," Menma replied with a satisfied smirk.
[Doesn’t solve the problem… but damn, it feels good.]
Naruko’s stomach growled loudly and pointedly. She put her hands on it theatrically, as if she’d been mortally wounded.
"But I still want food," she announced in a doomed tone. "Let’s find a restaurant."
"Today’s food adventures aren’t enough for you?" Menma raised a brow in mock surprise.
"Uzumaki Naruko can’t be broken that easily!" she declared proudly — then suddenly sniffed the air. "O-o-oh… That smells amazing! This way!"
She pointed toward a wooden sign with large painted kanji.
Ichiraku Ramen.
[Of course. The universe is practically pulling us here.]
Passing under a white curtain, the twins found themselves at a small counter with four stools. Behind it — an open kitchen: a broad-shouldered man in his forties and a teenage girl, both in white cook uniforms. The air was thick with the scent of rich broth, grilled pork, green onions, and boiled eggs.
"New customers!" the girl greeted with a bright smile, but it faded the moment her gaze caught their red hair.
Menma felt a vein twitch in his temple.
"Kids…" she said with a hint of suspicion. "You got money?"
[Whew. Just the age thing. For a second I thought we’d found another person ready to toss us out by the scruff.]
"Yeah," he answered calmly, pulling a couple of bills from his pocket.
"Then welcome," her smile returned, and she gestured toward a wooden menu on the wall. "Everything’s fresh, everything’s delicious."
"Ramen with extra pork!" Naruko nearly shouted, licking her lips.
"Same for me," Menma said, counting out the exact amount.
[Pricey. But life without good food isn’t life at all.]
"One moment!" The man — presumably the owner — switched on the stove and began expertly frying slices of meat.
Menma watched his movements. Not the slightest hint of dislike, not a single sidelong glance. The red hair and whisker marks were just details to him.
"Did this shop open recently?" Menma asked.
"Only been in Konoha for three months," the man replied without pausing his work. "Before that, we lived in the south of the Land of Fire."
[Got it. Six years ago, that night, they weren’t here. Didn’t lose anyone, don’t blame anyone. If only everyone were like that.]
A short exchange revealed that the man’s name was Teuchi, and his daughter was Ayame. The girl kept glancing at the twins with interest, but without hostility.
Within minutes, two enormous steaming bowls of ramen landed in front of them.
"Itadakimas!" Naruko scooped up noodles with her chopsticks and slurped them noisily. "Mmm… delicious!"
"That’s an adult portion," Ayame warned. "If you can’t finish, better leave it."
Menma barely stopped himself from laughing.
[Leave food? An Uzumaki? We’d sooner run for seconds.]
He started on his bowl and, catching the right moment, asked:
"Do you know where in Konoha we could buy children’s clothes? Preferably from outsiders."
"Odd request," Ayame said thoughtfully, running a finger along her lips. "But my neighbor has a stall at the market. She’s not from Konoha either."
"I’d appreciate the address," Menma nodded.
"You’re probably gonna buy everything in black again," Naruko remarked, neatly lifting a slice of pork with her chopsticks. "You always do that."
[Uchiha style? Ha! No thanks. Right now, red-eyed folks in Konoha are basically ‘don’t stand next to them — you’ll get killed.’ I don’t need those associations with a clan of psychos.]
"Thinking of changing my style," Menma said calmly, catching half a boiled egg with his chopsticks. "What about you?"
"I’ll buy the brightest thing I can find!" she replied enthusiastically. "So everyone notices me right away!"
Menma involuntarily paled. A mental image of Naruto in that blinding orange jumpsuit popped up, and his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could already feel the pain from that color.
"Trust me," he said with emphasis, "you stand out enough already. There’s not another girl like you in Konoha."
"Exactly," Ayame chimed in. "This is the first time I’ve seen kids with hair like yours."
"Which is why," Menma continued casually, "I suggest we buy matching outfits. And maybe stop by a barber. Make ourselves identical."
Naruko stared at him, raising a brow.
"Kawaii!" Ayame grabbed her cheeks. "To make you even cuter?"
"No," he smirked, "to troll people."
Ayame blinked, processing that. Naruko mirrored his smirk exactly, like a reflection in a mirror.
[Right now, the only difference is our hairstyles. Our voices and height are the same. Once puberty hits, it’ll be harder to hide the difference. But for now… it’d be a crime not to have some fun.]
"Thanks, Ayame-chan!" Naruko waved cheerfully. "It was suuuper tasty! We’ll definitely come back!"
They headed for a barber shop. The stylist — a lean man with long bangs and a critical eye — circled them like a sculptor assessing a block of marble.
"Not possible right now," he said, "but in a couple of months, once your hair’s grown a bit," — he nodded at Menma — "I can give you both a universal cut, and no one will be able to tell you apart."
"Perfect," Menma nodded. "Just in time for the start of the Academy."
After that, the twins made their way to the market and found the stall Ayame had mentioned. The owner, a cheerful woman in her thirties who was clearly not a local, greeted them warmly. In the end, they bought green jackets for everyday wear, pants, T-shirts, caps — everything in duplicate. The bags weighed pleasantly in their hands, and the wallet felt noticeably lighter.
[Other stalls might be cheaper… but thanks to Hiruzen’s ‘caring’ policies, my options are limited: either buy from outsiders or be ready for a mop to the back.]
"Only the bookstore left," Menma said, adjusting the bags.
"Can we go another time?" Naruko peeked into the bags as if hoping to find sweets. "We don’t have much money left, and we still need groceries."
"We won’t buy anything today," he agreed. "We’ll wait for next month’s stipend. But the shop’s on the way. We’ll stop in, check the prices."
They approached a small shop with a sign reading “Study Materials for Academy Students.”
Inside — the smell of paper and polished wood, neatly arranged shelves, and a glass display of notebooks and writing supplies.
But the moment they opened the door, the shopkeeper — a thin man with a mustache — looked up, and his face instantly twisted.
"Get out, demon spawn!" he yelled so loudly the glass at the back of the shop rattled. "You bring nothing but misfortune!"
He lunged from behind the counter, and the twins had to jump back outside before he got the idea to throw something heavy at them.
[What the hell?! We’re being thrown out like lepers! And the worst part — this is the only specialty shop in all of Konoha. What am I supposed to do now, steal textbooks from classmates? This is infuriating.]
Menma was furious, but his face stayed blank. Naruko, on the other hand, looked ready to storm back in and raise hell.
"Ahem," came a voice from behind them.
They turned and saw Hiruzen, in his familiar white-and-red Hokage robes, pipe in hand, smiling like a kindly grandfather.
"How’s it going?" he asked, as if he’d just bumped into them by chance on a walk.
"Grandpa!" Naruko darted to him. "You won’t believe it — we tried to buy textbooks for the Academy, but the mean shopkeeper kicked us out! Said he wouldn’t sell to us!"
The grandfatherly smile slid from Hiruzen’s face as if washed away by a wave. His features hardened, taking on the cold, military sharpness of a commander.
"We’ll handle this," he said curtly, stepping forward.
The shopkeeper had just opened his mouth to finish driving them off—
"Now get out of—" He froze mid-sentence, spotting the white Hokage hat beside the twins’ red heads. "G-good afternoon… Hokage-sama."
"I’ve been told you refused to provide textbooks to future shinobi," Hiruzen said evenly, but with an icy edge. "Does that mean you’re deliberately weakening Konoha’s military strength?"
It was as if a lightning bolt had struck the man. He went pale, stammering:
"N-no, the children must have… I’ve always supported the village!"
"Glad to hear it," Hiruzen nodded — but the pressure didn’t lift. "Then you will now hand over the textbooks to these future shinobi. Free of charge."
"Yes! Of course!" The shopkeeper exhaled like a man spared from execution. "Just a moment!"
He hurried into the back room.
Meanwhile, Hiruzen slid the warm-grandfather smile back onto his face.
[What a performer. Send him to a theater and he’d own the stage. I’d bet he didn’t just happen to be nearby — probably watched us through his crystal ball, waiting for the perfect moment for a dramatic entrance. And he nailed it…]
"Grandpa, you’re amazing!" Naruko beamed at him, glowing like a lantern.
"Now, now, don’t overpraise me," Hiruzen said gently, ruffling her hair. "It’s my duty as Hokage to help every villager."
[One manipulator inside. Another outside. At this rate, paranoia’s just a matter of time. I think it’s about time I grab fate by the tail before it grabs me.]
"Hokage-sama," Menma said, meeting his eyes directly. "We need to have a serious talk."
