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Twin Demons. Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 17:10:13 +0000 UTC“Just a little more left!” roared the green sadist, flashing a perfect white smile. “Only five hundred squats to go!”
At the edge of the training field, far away from the normal residents of Konoha—who wouldn’t survive even a tenth of the so-called “power of youth”—Might Guy was drilling his students. On the grass stood three kids, each holding a boulder over their heads, each stone easily three times the child’s own weight. The Uzumaki twins and Rock Lee squatted in perfect sync, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
A six-year-old in the normal world would have dropped dead long ago under such training, but here things worked differently. Even passive use of chakra reinforced the body: muscles became tougher, lungs stronger, bones harder. Sasuke had recently boasted that his brother Itachi shattered a boulder with a single strike at the age of four. In midair. While holding Sasuke with one hand. And protecting their mother at the same time.
[Got it. Itachi is the reincarnation of Chuck Norris.]
Still, even with chakra, Guy’s training felt like torture.
“Three hundred and five…” Lee gasped, his face so red he could’ve been mistaken for a ripe tomato. “Three hundred and six…”
He was running on fumes, looking one step away from collapsing and crushing himself under the stone. Only sheer stubbornness kept him upright. Under Guy’s supervision, Lee had been training for barely a month. He hadn’t yet forged the steel-hard physique that would someday become his trademark.
The twins, though… They didn’t look much better—sweat pouring down in rivers, faces flushed, breath ragged—but their movements still carried a sharp rhythm. That infamous mix was at work: Uzumaki stubbornness, jinchūriki regeneration, and their natural refusal to let each other fall behind.
“Three hundred and nineteen…” Lee croaked, nearly passing out. His eyes drifted sideways. The twins were straining too, but looked far fresher. That was the kick he needed, the second wind that forced him to grit his teeth and push on.
“Three hundred and twenty!” he forced out with new energy.
“I can see the flames of youth blazing inside you!” Guy beamed, his grin so radiant it seemed to brighten the very sun. “Magnificent, Lee! That’s exactly how one must face destiny!”
[I really hope this esteemed jōnin of Konoha, squad leader and all, is training us to motivate Lee—and not because we’re wearing green. Really want to believe the universe is at least somewhat sane. Then again… this is Konoha.]
Even with all his sarcasm, Menma couldn’t deny it: these sessions worked. So far, there’d been no hints of sadistic techniques like the “Eight Gates”—thank the Shinigami for that. But clownish mannerisms aside, Guy was a true master. He knew that before teaching kids to fight, he had to harden their bodies. Taijutsu without strong muscles and flexibility was pointless.
“Don’t stare at your legs!” Guy suddenly barked, his voice cracking through the air like a gong. “Eyes forward! Only then will you reap the true reward of this exercise! Thirty extra squats!”
“Yes, sensei…” Naruko hissed through clenched teeth.
Guy had one enormous advantage that was hard to overstate: he didn’t just shout slogans and push them onward, he actually paid attention to every move. Corrected stances, forced them to breathe properly, adjusted the angle when muscles started slacking. A genuine personal trainer.
[Yeah, one day we can just swap him with a shadow clone—but a clone can’t replicate years of experience. Not yet.]
The twins, knowing the value of the moment, didn’t hold back. They even sent shadow clones to the Academy, dedicating all their real time to training. Of course, Guy was a jōnin, and he vanished for missions half the year, but whenever he was in Konoha, he turned their lives into hell on green grass.
Even Lee started skipping Academy for training. Normally, that would earn a reprimand or, at worst, expulsion. But Guy personally walked into the headmaster’s office and asked for Lee to attend only when he wished. At first, the headmaster nearly fell off his chair hearing such a request. Then, after noticing the fanatic fire blazing in Lee’s eyes, he simply sighed and signed the papers. Probably realizing the truth: for a boy unable to use ninjutsu or genjutsu, training with Guy wasn’t just a chance to grow stronger—it was his only chance not to die on his very first mission.
…Or to die much, much sooner.
“Four hundred fifty-one…” Lee croaked at last, before collapsing forward, spent. The boulder in his hands teetered dangerously, about to crush his head, but Guy—moving with cobra-like reflexes—caught it as if it weighed nothing more than a balloon.
“Training isn’t over yet, Lee-kun!” he shouted gleefully. “Your flame of youth has gone out, but I know how to ignite it once again!”
With great pomp, he pulled a lidded cup from his pouch. On the lid, bold letters declared: “Invigorating Curry.” Inside sloshed a thick, black-as-oil liquid, bubbling and steaming.
[That’s not food. That’s poison. Even rats wouldn’t drink it.]
Nevertheless, Guy, beaming, poured the contents straight into unconscious Lee’s mouth.
Second one. Nothing.
Second two. Lee’s skin began to flush crimson.
Second three. Steam burst from his nose and ears.
Second four. His eyes flew open, bloodshot.
Second five. Like a reborn phoenix, Lee shot up and began squatting so fast the ground nearly slipped out from under the twins.
“Five hundred!” he bellowed, hurling the rock aside. “Water!”
He bolted to his bag, snatched up a bottle, and drained it in one gulp like a traveler lost in the desert.
“Your flame of youth burns anew!” Guy proudly declared, giving a thumbs-up.
“Thank you, Guy-sensei!” Lee cried, eyes brimming with tears—whether from joy or from his insides being on fire was unclear. “Can I have more? That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my life!”
Menma and Naruko finished their set in sync, dropped their boulders, and collapsed onto the grass, panting.
“Brother… I want that curry,” Naruko groaned, wiping sweat from her brow.
“It looks like boiling tar,” Menma shot back.
“But Bushy Brows liked it.”
“He’s insane. His opinion doesn’t count by default.”
“What if we mix it with ramen?” she mused, and that familiar dangerous spark lit up in her eyes.
Menma closed his.
“You’ve already carved this idea into your skull and you’re not backing off, are you?”
“Nope,” his sister chirped happily.
[If she cooks up that hell-broth, I’m defecting to the Akatsuki. I’ll have a better chance of survival among missing-nin.]
///
Training with shadow clones bore frighteningly quick results. In barely three months, the twins’ internal chakra control had soared to a level rivaled only by the Hokage himself. Naturally, their hands itched to test it.
That was why one day Menma crept up to Enma, who sat in the courtyard, cross-legged in meditation.
“Enma-san,” he began smoothly. “What does a shinobi need to break free from genjutsu?”
The old monkey cracked open one amber eye, giving him a stare that could make even a grown shinobi feel foolish.
“Why are you asking me?” he grumbled. “Go bother your teachers at the Academy.”
“Would any of them match the wisdom of the Monkey King?” Menma tilted his head respectfully, then added softly: “I doubt it.”
“Flatterer,” Enma snorted, but he rose to his feet nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll be brief. Most genjutsu works because an enemy sends foreign chakra into your brain. Your job is to flush it out as fast as possible.”
“So—form the concentration seal and change the flow of chakra in the head,” Menma prompted innocently.
“Kid,” Enma narrowed his eyes. “You already know this. What game are you playing?”
“Only the pursuit of knowledge,” Menma assured him, even pressing a hand to his chest as if swearing an oath. Enma snorted again, unconvinced. “I’m just curious. The concentration seal makes it easier to control chakra inside the body, right?”
“Suppose so,” Enma muttered, crossing his arms.
“But if I’ve already outgrown the seal, and my chakra obeys without hand signs,” Menma mused, “would I still need it to break free of genjutsu?”
“Probably not,” Enma admitted after a pause. “Jōnin have such control that most illusions never even stick. Foreign chakra slips off them faster than a blink.”
“And you know some genjutsu yourself, don’t you?” Menma narrowed his eyes. “I need a test.”
“I knew this would end here,” the Monkey King sighed, though he surprisingly didn’t refuse.
He wove a few seals. Menma felt a flicker of alien chakra in his brain—a faint, unpleasant pressure—and instantly flushed it out.
“Always keeping multiple chakra streams in your head?” Enma raised a brow. “Not bad for a kid.”
[Not bad? It’s brilliant! I don’t have to fear canon anymore, where Naruto could’ve lost to any genin with a genjutsu until the final arc.]
“Let’s see how you handle this.” Enma shaped seals again.
This time, there was no warning. No push, no sense of intrusion. Just—click—and the world plunged into absolute darkness. Hearing and smell remained; grass rustled beneath his feet, the wind brushed his skin. But sight was gone.
Menma pumped chakra into his head, cycled it in circles, even tried the concentration seal—but nothing. Empty void.
“Waste of effort,” Enma’s voice rang out. The technique dissolved, and light slammed back into his eyes. “That was the Second Hokage’s creation. One of the strongest genjutsu in the world. Simple methods won’t dispel it.”
“And how do you fight it, then?” Menma narrowed his eyes, careful not to let irritation show.
“Secret,” the Monkey King winked, but his face immediately turned serious again. “Such techniques are rare. But they exist. I showed you this so you wouldn’t get cocky.”
“Thank you for the lesson, Enma-san.” Menma bowed and headed toward the temple.
///
At the Academy, that cursed day had come again—the kunoichi class. Once a week, all the girls were herded off to study the “art of flowers.”
Menma was already walking down the corridor toward the exit, while beside him Naruko whined loudly:
“Easy for you! You get to go home, and I have to mess around with stupid little flowers!”
“You make it sound like you’re being led to execution,” Menma chuckled.
“It’s deadly boring! Flowers, ribbons, vases…” She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather do an extra training session with Bushy Brows!”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he waved her off.
“Then you go yourself! You’ll see what kind of torture it is!”
“We’ve already discussed this,” her brother said calmly. “If I take your class, you go home and cook dinner.”
“Fine.”
“No ramen.”
“Alright.”
“And you’ll do the cleaning.”
“As you wish.”
Menma narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“I’ve never seen you so agreeable… Ikebana really drives you insane, doesn’t it?”
“You have no idea!” Naruko groaned. “I don’t even want to send a clone there. It hurts just to receive its memories afterwards.”
“Alright,” Menma sighed, finally giving in. “Go home. I’ll take the class for you.”
“Thanks!” Naruko pecked his cheek and cheerfully darted out the door with the boys. “You’re a hero, brother! I’ll never forget your sacrifice!”
[For her smile, I’m ready for much worse.]
Menma slipped into the stream of girls without a ripple. No one noticed the swap.
A couple of minutes later, Suzume-sensei entered the classroom—a woman in a strict kimono, a mane of curly black hair, and glasses.
“Good afternoon, girls,” she greeted warmly. “Last time, we stopped at selecting a boutonniere to match a dress…”
Menma sighed inwardly. No poisons, no traps, nothing actually useful for survival. Just style and aesthetics. The future kunoichi were being taught that beauty and fashion were weapons, too.
[Now I see why Naruko hates this. Everyone’s sitting here, glowing with happiness, chatting about the ‘secrets of life,’ and the teacher won’t even let you nap.]
“Last lesson, I mentioned the blue rose,” Suzume reminded them. “Who knows where it grows?”
The room fell silent. No one raised a hand—except Sakura.
“In the Land of the Sea!” she blurted with shining eyes. “I got interested after your words, Suzume-sensei, and after class I read everything I could find about the blue rose!”
[Oh, Shinigami. She’s such an insufferable teacher’s pet.]
“Twenty minutes left in class,” Suzume said after glancing at the clock. “Let’s do a practical task. Each of you must choose a flower that matches your hair color. We’ll meet in the garden.”
With that, she led the girls outside, then disappeared somewhere.
[Red hair… What even matches that? Poppy? Chrysanthemum? Definitely something from earlier lessons. Damn. Naruko should’ve come herself.]
A shout from another flowerbed saved him:
“Naruko-chan!” Ino waved brightly, practically glowing. “Come here, I’ve already picked everything out!”
[Phew. Thank you, universe. Good thing my sister’s got the flower shop girl as a friend.]
A few minutes later, a neat daisy was tucked into Menma’s hair. Honestly, it looked cute. Too cute.
But he didn’t get the chance to admire the masterpiece. Shrill laughter and the sound of someone falling hit his ears.
“Oops!” A girl with violet hair—Ami—smirked as she shoved Sakura, who hit the ground. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. You’re usually stuck in the front row kissing up to teachers.”
Her three friends immediately cackled like a flock of hens. Sakura got up, fists clenched, but her eyes glistened with tears. The rest of the girls pretended nothing was happening. Not out of fear—Sakura’s show-off attitude had long since worn out their patience.
“Oops!” Ami shoved her again. “Sorry. I mistook your forehead for a rock and nearly tripped.”
Her little gang shrieked with laughter. Sakura sniffled and turned her face away.
[Yeah, Sakura annoys me. But this scene—when a pack bullies someone and the others just watch—pisses me off even more. Naruko and I went through that. And you know what? It’s disgusting.]
Menma stepped forward silently. With one sharp move, he hooked Ami’s leg. She crashed to the ground with a loud thud, dust rising around her.
“Oops,” he drawled in the same tone and with the same smirk she’d used. “Sorry. You were in my way.”
Ami, face smeared with dirt, blinked in shock.
“N-Naruko?!”
Menma didn’t answer. He turned an icy stare on Ami’s little entourage. The cackling stopped in perfect unison, their faces stiffening as they froze in place.
“What's up, girls?” he asked sweetly, casually clenching his fist for emphasis.
The friends exchanged glances, weighed the damage to their “queen’s” reputation, and wisely retreated back to their flowerbed.
“You alright?” Menma asked calmly, turning to Sakura.
“You shouldn’t have interfered, Naruko!” she flared up, wiping at her eyes. “I could’ve handled it myself!”
“What’s that got to do with you?” Menma put on an expression of pure confusion. “I told you—Ami was just in my way.”
With that, he turned his back and walked back to Ino. She was watching him with a mix of surprise and admiration. So were most of the other girls. Only Hinata’s gaze was different. Her pale eyes were filled with… far too much.
[Oh, Shinigami. Please tell me she wasn’t just staring at me with the Byakugan.]
By the end of class, all the girls had completed their task. Suzume-sensei returned, gave a quick approving glance over the flower decorations, and dismissed everyone. Ino, glowing, ran off to gather the latest gossip. Menma stayed sitting on the grass, idly twirling the daisy between his fingers.
That was when Sakura appeared beside him. She fiddled with her hem, staring at the ground.
“Sorry, Naruko,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. They just said all those nasty things… and I lost it.”
Menma gave a silent nod. Sakura, taking that as an invitation, plopped down next to him.
“Ami said I’m ugly… and that I’ve got this huge forehead…” Her voice trembled.
“That’s just the ‘let’s find something to pick on’ category,” Menma snorted, meeting her wide green eyes. “Truth is, you’re pretty. They’re just jealous.”
Sakura froze, eyes widening.
“You really think so?”
“Of course.” Menma nodded. “But as for your thing with the teachers—Ami’s right. You fawn over them like a mouse sniffing out cheese.”
“But I just… I just want to learn…” Sakura sniffled.
“No,” he corrected gently. “You want good grades. And that behavior is pushing your classmates away. That’s stupid. We’re not in some normal school where you can just move to another town after graduation. We’re shinobi in training. Teachers will stay in the Academy, but classmates—you’ll be working with them your whole life. Think about it.”
Sakura frowned but fell silent, lost in thought. Smart girl. She quickly chose the right move:
“Then… can I be friends with you, Naruko?”
Menma smiled softly.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, scooting closer.
[How could I turn down a crying girl? That would’ve been cruel. The real problem is… I just signed my sister up for this. Wonder how long I’ll live once Naruko finds out?]
