Vetrax
patreon
Twin Demons. Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 17:32:08 +0000 UTCThe time before the first lesson always felt like a mini-market. No teacher, no discipline—every kid rushed to toss in a joke, share the latest news, or brag about a find before the bell rang. Voices buzzed, laughter echoed, papers rustled, and Choji’s chips crackled, filling the classroom so thickly it seemed the walls themselves were vibrating.
“Guys, check this out!” Kiba, without a hint of shame, climbed right up on his desk like he was about to lead a clan meeting. A smug grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming triumphantly. “I got the golden samurai card yesterday!”
“What?!” Choji froze mid-bite, a chip dangling in front of his mouth. Normally, only the apocalypse could mess with his appetite. “Where’d you get it?! I searched every stall in Konoha, checked every kiosk!”
“Heh.” Kiba snapped his fingers and acted like the find was routine. “Bought a pack at the candy shop. With spare change, can you believe it? And bam—surprise. Guess luck’s in my blood.”
“I am willing to trade,” Shino droned without looking up from his cards. “Ten of mine for one of your gold.”
“Trade?” Kiba hopped off the desk and puffed his chest. “Yeah, right. I’ve got the full set now. Only one in the class, by the way. So bow down!”
The smug aura radiating from him was thick enough to spread on bread.
“You bought it at the shop across from the academy?” Menma asked, lazily scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah.” Kiba narrowed his eyes warily. “Why?”
Menma paused like a teacher about to deliver a verdict.
“There’s a good chance the factory printed a whole batch of golden cards and stuffed them into one box. And that box is probably still gathering dust in that shop, with the owner having no idea he’s sitting on a treasure.”
A second of tense silence fell over the class.
“Storm the shop after lessons!” Choji roared with the fervor of a warrior, clutching his worn wallet like a weapon.
“Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered without opening his eyes. He looked like he was trying to squeeze in the last five minutes of sleep before class, while the noisy idiots around him ruined it.
“Boys, don’t forget to take my brother with you,” Naruko winked slyly. “He’s got plenty of experience raiding stores.”
[Little brat! Still holding a grudge because I didn’t share last time’s loot.]
“What’s she talking about?” Kiba squinted at Menma in confusion.
“My sister likes to joke,” he said flatly, pinning Naruko with a look. “But her sense of humor’s crippled in both legs.”
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Naruko gave an innocent smile, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “As long as I’m laughing, that’s good enough.”
“Guys,” Hinata gently stepped between them like a small shield. “Let’s not fight.”
Menma noticed her shoulders tremble, but her voice was steadier than two months ago—back when she first stood up to bullies. Now she could walk into a conversation and even defuse it.
[Little Hinata, you’re growing right before my eyes. Beautiful.]
Just then the door swung open and Sasuke walked in. The chatter died so sharply it was like someone cut a string holding it up. The atmosphere shifted instantly: laughter drained away, smiles faded. It felt like a storm cloud had stepped into the room, taking all the warmth with it.
A month had passed since the fall of the Uchiha clan, yet the looks hadn’t changed—cautious, sometimes pitying, sometimes even superstitious. As if Sasuke was a walking reminder that any family, no matter how great, could vanish overnight.
He carried himself straight-backed, face stone-cold, not a flicker of emotion. The aura of a military heir. And yet the grief clung to him, heavy and sticky, latching onto anyone nearby.
Sasuke walked past in silence and sat by the window, as if to wall himself off from the world.
[Damn Itachi! I’d just started making progress with the broody kid, and now it’s back to square one.]
“Hey, Sasuke.” Menma dropped into the seat beside him, voice calm. “Got plans for today?”
“What do you want?” Sasuke’s voice was dry as sandpaper. “If you’re here to drag me into your stupid games, don’t bother. I don’t have time for nonsense.”
That was how he spoke to everyone—classmates, teachers, even old family friends. Cold indifference. The only thing he cared about was strength.
[Kid needs pulling out of that hole. What he really needs is therapy. Too bad in Konoha, every second person’s a nutjob.]
“Still interested in trading techniques?” Menma asked evenly.
Sasuke slowly turned his head. For the first time since that night, a spark flickered in his eyes.
“You have something to offer?”
Just as the conversation started to gather momentum, Iruka-sensei walked in with a stack of notebooks.
[Of course. An S-rank mood-killer.]
“We’ll talk at my place after class,” Menma whispered, leaning back in his chair.
Sasuke gave a short nod. The conversation was postponed—but far from over.
///
“You live here, Menma?” Sasuke stopped in front of the Shinigami temple gates, staring at the ancient red doors with a mix of interest and distrust. Stone slabs, carved spirit masks on the walls, the faint smell of incense—it was hardly standard housing for a Konoha family.
“We live here,” Naruko corrected, hopping up the steps. “By the way, your clan’s district is right next door. Officially, that makes you our neighbor. Drop by anytime.”
“We’re not neighbors anymore,” Sasuke muttered, something sharp flashing in his voice, like steel.
“You moved?” Naruko asked, genuinely surprised. “Why?”
“You want me to live in the place where THAT happened?!” His voice cracked into a shout, fists clenched.
Menma stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing lightly to dampen the surge of anger.
“No need to snap. She didn’t mean it,” he said calmly.
“If you say so.” Sasuke shoved his hand off, face turning stone-cold again. “You mentioned techniques. I’m waiting.”
“We’ll talk inside,” Menma replied and pushed open the heavy gates.
Inside smelled of wax and old wood, but the twins’ home felt lived-in: scrolls lined the shelves, stacks of books piled up, and here and there lay bright ribbons and paper cranes—Naruko’s handiwork during recess with the girls.
“My apple!” the girl declared, darting into the kitchen, grabbing a red apple, and vanishing into her room, clearly giving her classmates space for a serious talk.
[At least sometimes she knows when to bail. Thanks, sis.]
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Menma said lazily, opening the fridge. Inside were suspiciously many plates with scraps left at the bottom—Naruko’s trick to avoid washing dishes. “Tea and leftover pumpkin pie?”
“Do whatever, just hurry,” Sasuke grumbled, dropping into a chair.
[Translation from Uchiha: “Yes, I’m starving, but pride won’t let me admit it.”]
Menma smirked faintly and set the kettle on the stove.
“So, where are you living now?” he asked casually.
“In an orphan’s single-room flat,” Sasuke answered darkly. “Hokage gave me the keys. Free.”
[Ah, classic ‘kind old man’ routine. Same trick every time: the rich heir gets a standard orphan’s room instead of his rightful estate. Meanwhile, Uchiha land is probably already penciled in for ‘state use.’ Nicely planned, old man. But… as the brother of a troll, I’m duty-bound to add fuel to this fire.]
“You’re the clan heir,” Menma began carefully, watching him. “The land, the houses—they’re yours by right. Ever think about renting them out? At least you’d have income.”
“I don’t have time for such nonsense!” Sasuke slammed his palm on the table. “I have to grow stronger. To avenge my family!”
[Yep, diagnosis confirmed. Patient in denial of reality. Good thing I dispelled the clones in the yard earlier. Sasuke would’ve blown a fuse at that show of strength—and worse, at himself for not being able to do the same.]
“Still, think about renting,” Menma said casually. “Money can buy techniques too.”
Sasuke said nothing but gave a short nod. The seed of an idea was planted.
Menma poured the tea and set down two cups along with neat slices of pie.
“So what are you up to now?” he asked, sliding the plate closer. “Training?”
“If only!” Sasuke hissed, stabbing the pie with a fork so hard it crumbled into crumbs. “Itachi stole everything. My inheritance, my weapons, the clan archive—everything! Even…” He cut himself off sharply.
“Even what?” Menma asked evenly, sipping his tea.
Sasuke clenched his teeth, his gaze flicking aside as if he was fighting himself.
“I haven’t told anyone… but that night, Itachi said: ‘If you want strength—find the message in the temple basement.’”
Menma raised an eyebrow.
“And what did you find?”
“Nothing!” Sasuke snapped, slamming his fist on the table. The tea rippled in the cups. “I searched for a secret entrance for an hour before I tried every hand sign I knew. Went down—and it was empty!”
“Figures.” Menma took another sip. “Don’t want to sound like Iruka-sensei giving a lecture, but… what did you expect? Your brother’s insane. His words aren’t worth trusting.”
“I know that!” Sasuke scoffed, though his anger was cooling. “It’s just… he said it in a way that made me…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. You’re right. No point dwelling on the words of a madman.”
[Heh. Perfect. I’ve chipped away at Itachi’s authority in his brother’s eyes. Sasuke’s starting to see him as unhinged. And he doesn’t know about awakening the Mangekyo. That means the idea of killing friends for power won’t even cross his mind. That’s a major win already.]
“So you’re not doing much right now,” Menma said calmly, setting aside his empty plate. “But you still want to get stronger, right?”
“Get to the point,” Sasuke muttered, arms crossed. His glare was sharp, but behind it burned a hunger. Not for pie—for power.
Menma paused, leaning forward slightly.
“First, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone about what I’m about to give you.”
Sasuke raised a brow. A shadow of distrust flickered in his eyes—“You’re giving me conditions?” But Menma didn’t look away, holding a cold, steady seriousness.
At last, Uchiha gave a short nod.
“Fine.”
“I’ll trust that an Uchiha’s word means something,” Menma nodded back. He opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out several neatly tied scrolls. “Because otherwise, I’ll be the one in trouble.”
Sasuke instinctively reached for the first scroll, unrolled it—then froze. His eyes widened, his breath quickened.
“This is…” He couldn’t even finish, but his expression said enough—he recognized it instantly.
“Yes,” Menma confirmed. “Your clan’s techniques.”
Sasuke stared at the scrolls as if holding a fragment of his home, miraculously spared from the fire.
“I stumbled on them while cleaning the temple,” Menma continued evenly. “Looks like my great-grandfather once stole them from yours.”
Sasuke gave a slow nod, but his eyes hardly moved from the text. His fingers trembled with urgency: here they were, the techniques, his inheritance, the last thread tying him to the clan.
“That’s why,” Menma added, “I don’t want you blabbing about where they came from. I won’t have my ancestor called a thief, or the Uzumaki clan branded as looters. Understood?”
Sasuke frowned and looked up.
“These scrolls aren’t originals,” he said, tracing the crisp ink lines. “The writing’s fresh. And… I recognize your handwriting.”
[Heh. Exactly why I kept the originals for myself. No surprise—the homegrown detective would’ve recognized his parents’ handwriting in a heartbeat. Good luck explaining that.]
“Of course they’re copies,” Menma admitted easily. “I’m a shinobi too. I want to grow stronger as well. Who knows? Maybe I’ve got fire release myself.”
Sasuke thought for a moment, then gave a slight nod. The reasoning held.
“What do you want for it?” Sasuke’s gaze sharpened, cold and tense. The look said clearly: “I don’t take charity.”
[And here’s the delicate part of the game. I could play the noble benefactor… but I’m not the ‘kind old grandpa’ with his fairy tales about the Will of Fire. With Sasuke, it has to feel like an even trade.]
“Call it an investment in the future,” Menma replied, holding his gaze. “If we end up on the same team, you’ll watch my back using these techniques. If our paths split—someday you’ll repay the favor.”
Sasuke stayed silent for several seconds. The room filled with nothing but the ticking of an old clock and the hiss of the cooling kettle. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Understood,” he said. “In that case, I accept.”
He carefully rolled the scrolls, slipped them into his backpack, and zipped it closed. At the doorway, he stopped.
“You know… maybe you’re the only one in our class who actually understands me, Menma,” Sasuke said unexpectedly calm, with the faintest shadow of a smile. “Thanks.”
[And just like that, I earned Uchiha’s loyalty—by giving him back his own inheritance under my name. The move of a manipulator. So how am I any different from Kurama or Hiruzen? Heh… million-ryō question.]
The door shut behind Sasuke. Menma was left alone. For all of a minute.
“Well, well, well,” Naruko burst into the room, munching on her half-eaten apple. “I heard everything!”
“Of course you did,” Menma sighed. “You’re incapable of ignoring someone else’s secret.”
“Ha!” She proudly jabbed a finger at her chest. “That’s called tactical reconnaissance.”
“Tell that to Iruka-sensei and you’ll pass the exam,” Menma snorted.
“Don’t change the subject.” She plopped down on the desk, legs swinging. “Where’d you really get those scrolls? If they were here at home, I would’ve found them first.”
Menma didn’t need to answer. His sharp sister had already pieced it together.
“You snuck into Sasuke’s house that night and stole them,” she narrowed her eyes, then smirked. “Classic Uzumaki move! Trade, trolling, and a dash of thievery—full package!”
[My beloved sister. Without her, I’d sink into the dark like Orochimaru or Danzo.]
“And does tickling nosy little sisters come with the package too?” Menma bared his teeth in a grin.
“Brother, be reasonable!” Naruko bolted off the desk. “You’re not a villain!”
“I’m far worse!” Menma shouted, charging after her.
The temple filled with laughter and the lively chaos only siblings could create.
[No. I haven’t become a manipulator like Hiruzen or Kurama. I didn’t hurt Sasuke—and in the end, I returned his inheritance. That I did it with a bonus for myself… that’s just life. You always have to twist a situation to your advantage.]
