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Twin Demons. Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 12:59:45 +0000 UTCUchiha Itachi knelt before the Hokage, eyes lowered as if he had already cut himself off from this world. His face remained expressionless, but the shadow of resolve lingered in every movement.
"Uchiha Itachi," Hiruzen Sarutobi spoke with that deliberate softness behind which steel always hid. "From this day on, you will be declared a nukenin and will never be allowed to return to Konoha. Do you understand the consequences?"
The old man’s gaze tested not the decision but the boy’s nerves—would he falter, would he break, this child entrusted with burning down his own clan.
"I understand," Itachi answered calmly, without lifting his eyes. "I ask only one thing: take care of my younger brother."
"Sasuke will be as dear to me as my own grandson," Hiruzen said, as though swearing an oath—though a sly crease flickered at the corner of his eyes. "You may proceed with the S-rank mission."
"Yes, Hokage-sama." Itachi bowed even lower and left the chamber, leaving behind a deathly silence.
Four remained in the council room: Hiruzen, Danzō, Utatane Koharu, and Mitokado Homura. Four old foxes, four keepers of the village’s secrets. Only they knew that tonight Konoha would lose an entire clan.
"Ah, you sly fox," Hiruzen chuckled, turning his gaze on Danzō. There was no reproach in his tone—only satisfaction. "How neatly you set it all up. If a Uchiha slaughters his own, no one will question Konoha’s administration. Brilliant. But tell me… how did you convince the boy to raise his hand against his own parents?"
Danzō, as always, sat unmoving like a statue, only his single eye cold and direct.
"I simply gave him a choice," he answered flatly. "Either my men wiped out the clan completely, or he did it himself and earned the right to spare his brother. Did he truly have another option?"
"You always knew where to press," the old man exhaled from his pipe, and a thick cloud of smoke drifted upward. "Six years we’ve tolerated those red-eyed rats… conspiracy, whispers, trying to reach for my jinchūriki…" His voice held a flicker of irritation, but it quickly melted into satisfaction. "You’ve pleased me, Danzō. For this, ask what you will."
"Thank you, Hokage-sama," Danzō inclined his head curtly. "Given my involvement, I demand a share of the clan’s spoils."
"The bear’s still breathing, and you’re already skinning it," Hiruzen squinted, though his tone was more amused than reproachful. "Fine then, speak."
"The Sharingan," Danzō said without a hint of emotion. "All of them."
Silence fell. Even Koharu and Homura exchanged glances.
"Dozens of pairs of eyes," Hiruzen mused, drumming his fingers on the pipe. "What do you need so many for? Don’t tell me it’s for experiments with my beloved student?"
"Yes," Danzō admitted calmly. "Orochimaru and I have a project. Promising."
Hiruzen sighed, shaking his head.
"Orochimaru… such a mind, such power… and such an insatiable hunger for the forbidden. If not for his ambitions for the Hokage seat—my seat—I wouldn’t have had to banish him in disgrace." He exhaled another puff of smoke and waved a hand. "Very well, Danzō. The Sharingan are yours."
"Thank you, Hokage-sama." The corner of Danzō’s lips twitched, something almost like a smile.
"And I’ll take a trifle," Hiruzen’s mouth curved in a pleased smirk. "The Uchiha clan library. I do love expanding my collection of jutsu. The Professor must remain the Professor."
"What about their wealth?" Koharu interjected, her voice dry and businesslike.
"We speak of knowledge, treasures of the spirit, and you bring up money," Hiruzen shook his head. "Very well, we’ll split the gold and property four ways. And Sasuke will be told Itachi took everything."
"And the furniture, the paintings?" Homura asked cautiously.
"Ha!" Hiruzen even laughed. "No one will believe Itachi carried chairs under his arm. Leave that trifle to looters. Proof of the legend, you see? Just as it was when the Senju disappeared… and the Uzumaki."
The smoke spread across the chamber, a grim shroud concealing the truth of the village’s past.
///
By morning, all of Konoha was in uproar. Rumors raced faster than messengers; every home, every market, every shinobi whispered the same thing: the Uchiha clan was annihilated. They said their genius heir, Itachi, had lost his mind and butchered his own kin. Only his younger brother, Sasuke, survived.
The Academy buzzed like a disturbed hive. Everyone expected Sasuke to show up, but his seat stayed empty. The blow had been too heavy. The boy lay in the hospital unconscious after Tsukuyomi, and the doctors whispered it wasn’t certain he would ever wake.
"Poor guy," Naruko said, walking home beside her brother. She frowned—rare for her. "Sure, Sasuke’s a puffed-up turkey, but no one deserves that."
"Agreed," Menma muttered, hands shoved into his pockets. He walked with a slight hunch, as if the shadow of the day hung over him too. "A brother like that… you wouldn’t wish it on an enemy."
"But you heard the news," Naruko pressed. "Itachi just went insane."
Menma had plenty he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue—discussing the truth about Konoha and its politics was the same as digging his own grave.
At lunchtime, news arrived at the twins’ house that no one expected.
"I’m afraid I must leave you," said the monkey Enma, a banana clenched between his teeth. The peel landed softly on a plate, and his calm tone clashed with the seriousness of his words. "You already know about the fall of the Uchiha clan. They were also Konoha’s police force. Now the village has a hole in its security system. All ANBU are being pulled to the Hokage to plug it. I must be at Hiruzen’s side as well."
Naruko dropped her spoon, blinking so wide it looked like her eyes might fall out.
"What about our safety?" she asked in alarm.
Enma gently ruffled her hair, smiling in his usual monkeyish way.
"Don’t worry. The threat to you has already been removed."
[Yeah. Said in a way that makes it clear: the danger came from the Uchiha. A bit too transparent.]
"I’m going," the monkey king rose gracefully, wiped his hands, and was already heading for the window. "No foolishness. Train, but don’t overdo it. And most important—stay out of trouble. Hiruzen and I will be very busy this coming month."
Without waiting for a reply, he slipped outside with ease, vanishing into the air.
Menma and Naruko followed him with their eyes. Silence fell over the house.
"So what you’re saying," Naruko broke it first, squinting slyly, "is that the bananas left in the fridge are officially mine now?"
Menma let out a heavy sigh.
"You’ll squeeze profit out of any situation."
///
After lunch, while Naruko busied herself with the fridge, Menma leaned back on a cushion and closed his eyes. His mind slipped into the familiar whirl of seals, and soon he found himself in that dark underground chamber, the smell of damp stone and the drip of water echoing all around. Before him loomed the massive cage, its bars disappearing into endless black.
And there, beyond the bars, in the shadows, two crimson eyes gleamed.
Menma straightened his back out of habit. This meeting had become his daily duty: report the village’s news to Kurama in exchange for extra chakra. A tiring, draining routine. But today he came almost with anticipation.
"The Uchiha clan is dead," he said flatly.
The eyes narrowed, and Kurama’s voice tore forth like a thunderclap:
"Details!"
"I only know what’s being said," Menma shrugged. "My classmate’s brother supposedly lost his mind and wiped them all out."
"One boy?" Kurama sneered, baring his fangs. "Just one… erased an entire clan of trained killers? Don’t insult me, whelp."
Menma scratched the back of his head, fully aware of how absurd it sounded.
"Well… they say Itachi was a genius. Maybe he had some jutsu like Hiraishin or something just as deadly. At least, that’s the gossip going around."
"Perhaps," the fox admitted grudgingly, relaxing slightly. "So this Itachi is the last of the Uchiha?"
"No," Menma shook his head. "His brother Sasuke survived. But he’s in a coma. The doctors are fighting for his life."
"He’ll live," Kurama growled with certainty. "Sharingan wielders don’t fall so easily. Still, even two Uchiha can’t rebuild their clan. Fools sealed their fate long before this night."
Menma frowned.
"Why?"
The pause stretched. Kurama squinted, weighing whether the child was worth extra words. Then he decided.
"Since ancient times, the Uchiha and Senju were rivals," he began. His voice filled the underground hall, echoing off the stone. "But the real problem wasn’t war. It was the preservation of their bloodline."
Menma’s ears perked up.
"The Senju understood one clan wasn’t enough. So they spawned many offshoots. The most famous of them—your clan, the Uzumaki. Senju blood spread far and wide. Need proof? A bijuu can only be sealed inside those who inherit Senju vitality. And tell me—why do you think every great nation has jinchūriki?"
[So that’s it. Now it makes sense why Fū or Killer B can withstand a bijuu’s toxic chakra without being Uzumaki. They’re just as much Asura’s descendants as I am.]
Kurama went on:
"Even though the Senju and Uzumaki are nearly gone, their blood can still be found and restored. But the Uchiha…" the fox snorted with disdain. "They buried themselves. Pride, fanatical loyalty to their own eye… The very thought of a Sharingan in outsider hands made them tremble. And the result—nothing left to rebuild from."
Menma nodded, committing every word to memory.
"Thanks for the lesson."
"Hmph. Thank you," Kurama grinned, baring his teeth. "Your news today… is delightful."
The crimson eyes blazed brighter, and a dangerous gleam of vengeance flickered within them—enough to send a chill down Menma’s spine.
///
After dinner, Menma didn’t even think about going to bed. The house was quiet—Naruko was fussing in the kitchen, humming under her breath, while he pulled on his jacket and tugged a deep hood over his head.
"Brother, where do you think you’re going?" came Naruko’s voice. She was standing by the doorframe, chewing on a banana.
"Just taking a walk," Menma lied, trying to sound lazy. "Get some fresh air."
"Uh-huh, sure," she snorted, narrowing her eyes. "Don’t be long. We’ve got training with Bushy Brows tomorrow morning, and if you oversleep, he’ll pile five times the exercises on you."
"We’ll see," Menma muttered, lowering his head, and slipped out quickly.
Outside, the night greeted him—thick, starless, moonless. The air smelled of smoke and damp, as if the village itself was struggling to digest what had happened.
Menma pulled his hood lower and headed for the grim district where the Uchiha clan had been alive and bustling just yesterday.
[I can’t pass up this chance. The most valuable stuff, Hiruzen and his cronies already stole before the bodies went cold—eyes, money, techniques. But I know Itachi left something for his brother. In the Naka Shrine, under the seventh tatami to the right. If I don’t check now, it’ll be too late—either Sasuke wakes up, or the old man puts guards back on me.]
A yellow tape stretched across the entrance to the district, meant to keep people out. To Menma it looked ridiculous—a symbolic barrier in a village where half the shinobi lived for sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. He crouched and slid under it without a sound.
The streets of the dead district met him with uneasy whispers. The homes where the proud Uchiha had lived yesterday now crawled with rustles and foreign voices. Lanterns flickered in every window, furniture creaked, muffled laughter echoed. Wagons stood at the gates, loaded with household goods and furniture.
[Heh. One clan falls, and the whole village comes running to the feast. Looks like the looters were waiting for this night more eagerly than New Year’s.]
Holding his breath, Menma circled around them. He had no desire to share his haul with fellow scavengers.
At last he reached the Naka Shrine. Inside was emptiness. The altar and icons were already gone, only shabby furniture left behind.
Menma shut the door tight and placed a shadow clone to guard it. Then he formed the Snake seal, just as shown in the anime. The hidden plate under the seventh tatami slid back with a harsh scrape, revealing a narrow passage downward.
He slipped inside, heart pounding faster. Time was short.
The underground chamber was almost a mirror of the shrine above, only darker and narrower. By the wall stood the place reserved for the clan head. On a shelf—several scrolls.
[Hmph… not much. Fire release, a Sharingan guide, a couple of shuriken manuals. Basic Uchiha growth kits. Well, fine. I’m not picky—everything’s useful.]
He quickly stashed the scrolls in the pack under his jacket. His gaze slid further—to the massive stone with its carved inscription.
[Whoa. The Rikudō Tablet. Useless to me, but someone knowledge-hungry like Orochimaru would pay a fortune. Tempting. But how the hell do I move it? Can’t shove it in a pocket, and it won’t fit through the door.]
Menma sighed.
[Time to phone a friend.]
"Hey, Kurama," he called in thought, reaching into the depths of the seal. "I’ve got a problem. Found a stone with the Sage of Six Paths’ message. Need help moving it."
In the darkness of his mind, crimson eyes flared to life.
"You found what?" the fox’s voice rang first in surprise, then sank into familiar scorn. "Step closer. Put your hand on the stone."
Menma obeyed.
"I feel Father’s chakra!" Kurama roared. "Where did you find this?"
"In Uchiha territory," Menma replied.
Kurama licked his fangs, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.
"Little scavenger."
"Hey!" Menma protested. "If I wanted lectures, I’d go to Iruka-sensei. From you I expected… uh, understanding."
"You have it," the demon snorted. "So what’s the problem, little thief?"
Menma exhaled.
"The stone’s ten times bigger than me. It won’t fit through the door. And hauling it down the street under the looters’ noses? Suicide."
"You’re overcomplicating," Kurama scoffed. "Just seal it into a scroll."
"I don’t know how."
The crimson eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean? You rummaged through the Shinigami shrine basement. There should’ve been scrolls on fūinjutsu."
"I didn’t have time to study them."
"I see," the fox’s voice grew slow and lazy. "Look around. Find a large scroll and some ink."
Menma rummaged in the corners until he found a thick scroll and a small ink jar.
"Got it!" he said. "Looks like they used these for meeting records."
"Perfect. Now listen. Write down what I tell you."
And so the real fūinjutsu began: boring arithmetic, precise measurements down to the millimeter, calculations of mass and volume, formulas with numbers slotted into place. Menma nearly dozed off while scribbling symbols. But when he finally pushed chakra into the finished pattern, there was a muffled poof!—and the stone vanished, sealed inside the scroll.
Menma froze, scroll in hand.
"It worked… Kurama, you’re a genius!"
"Don’t mention it," the fox bared his teeth lazily. "Nothing gives me more joy than spiting the Uchiha."
[Yeah, right. Helping me out of pure kindness? He’s already set his eyes on Daddy’s souvenir and plans to snatch it once he escapes the seal. Dream on.]
Menma carefully tucked the scroll into his pack. He shut the hidden compartment, climbed out, and slipped outside. Looters’ voices still buzzed in the streets, but he managed to sneak away the same way he had come.
Half an hour later, he was quietly closing the front door of his house, a tired but satisfied grin tugging at his lips.
He was nearly at his room when a lazy voice drifted through the dark:
"Well, hello there, night ninja."
Menma flinched. In the kitchen doorway stood Naruko, arms folded against her chest, a sly smile on her face. On the table beside her—an empty banana plate.
"Why aren’t you asleep?" he frowned.
"I could ask the same thing," she drawled sweetly, tilting her head. "But since we’re playing secrets…" She stepped closer and poked a finger at his backpack. "What’ve you got in there, huh? Rocks from the street?"
Menma grimaced.
[Fox in a skirt. She smelled the loot.]
"Textbooks," he said calmly, turning toward his room. "Decided to read before bed."
"Uh-huh," she drawled, narrowing her eyes. "And that’s why you’re hauling them under your jacket like a smuggler."
Menma was about to brush her off, but Naruko lunged and grabbed at the strap of his pack.
"Hey!" he hissed, twisting away. "Hands off, thief!"
"Yeah, right!" she laughed, reaching for it again. "Share the loot—no one gets hurt!"
Menma caught her wrist and leaned in close to her ear.
"Naruko… if you don’t back off right now, I’ll tell Ino and Sakura you’re in love with Sasuke."
"What are you talking about?!" she froze, blushing furiously with outrage. "That’s not true!"
"I know," Menma smirked, releasing her hand. "But they’ll believe it. And then they’ll nag you every single day about hairpins and dresses."
Naruko stomped her foot but backed away.
"Fine, fine! I give up! But know this, brother—I’ll crack you. Maybe not today, but someday!"
"Shaking with fear," he muttered, brushing past her.
He shut his door and carefully lowered the backpack. Inside, the scroll lay quiet, as if it didn’t hold the stone carved with the Sage’s message at all.
The night had gone well. But tomorrow, he knew, his sister would begin a new hunt for his secrets.
