Chapter 37: A Child, Facing The Storms!!!

The afternoon sun gently warmed Training Ground 7, still glowing faintly with lingering chakra particles from Menma's earlier eruption. Everyone stood tensely for a few moments longer after Guy-sensei's grand entrance, half-expecting Menma to jump up and shout "Teacher Guy! Let's burn our youth again!" or challenge him to another explosive spar.

But it didn't happen.

Instead, at the center of the cleared square, where his crimson chakra had once danced like fire, Menma gradually slowed his breathing. His movements became more measured, his limbs relaxed. And then, in a smooth, deliberate motion, he lowered himself into a meditative posture, his eyes closing gently.

From that moment on, a calmness spread over the training field.

Inside the seal, the swirling red chakra that had once raged now steadily returned to his body, drawn in by the quiet rhythm of his breath. It formed a tightly compressed sphere in the center of his being—pulsing with dense power, like a sealed sun. Over time, even that began to diminish, absorbed back into his cells. The storm was over. For now.

Kakashi let out a quiet breath and released the outer barrier seal, his clones vanishing in smoke. A, on the other hand, looked genuinely shaken. He'd been the closest one to the heart of the storm—his body had felt the full weight of Menma's chakra pressure, like standing at the center of a whirlpool. Now, drenched in sweat and visibly pale, he finally lifted his hand from the seal array carved into the ground.

From the sidelines, Snow gave a small, relieved meow. With the calm restored, she leaped gracefully from Yoruusagi's arms, landing softly on Menma's lap. She rubbed her head against his chest, purring low and long. Her way of saying: You did well, brat.

Menma opened his eyes—still glowing faintly red—and smiled, gathering Snow close in a warm embrace. He stretched his limbs, a ripple of cracking joints echoing around him. Snow mirrored him, arching her back into a perfect feline stretch, silent and elegant.

Yoruusagi walked toward him with a gentle, loving smile and hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Congratulations on finishing your one-month punishment, Menma," she said softly. "You looked beautiful out there. So strong and graceful... but I still expect that ramen invitation—just me and you, alright?"

Her breath was soft against his cheek, but there was a subtle teasing mischief in her voice too—vengeance for the Ichiraku betrayal.

Menma beamed. It was a smile full of sunshine and Guy-like energy, only far more pleasing to the eye.

"Teacher Yoruusagi, thank you! I really love the clothes and the hairstyle—though I think big brother Kakashi was definitely jealous of my handsomeness earlier. I caught him staring!"

Then, leaning in with conspiratorial glee, he whispered:

"There's a barbecue place I heard about… way fancier than ramen. Let's sneak off together, just us."

Kakashi, approaching with a weary look, sighed.

He had been feeding this brat three times a day, cooking carefully portioned fish for every meal—and this was the thanks he got?

He rubbed his forehead while sliding his headband back over his Sharingan, which drew quick glances from Shisui, Itachi, and even Yoruusagi. It was the first time she'd seen it unveiled. She knew the story behind that eye… and the grief it carried. Maybe, if Kakashi hadn't inherited that eye, their lives would have turned out differently. Maybe they'd already be married. But now... all she could do was wait—and hope his heart would open in time.

"Little Menma!" Guy's booming voice broke the silence, full of admiration. "That was an amazing chain of attacks! Your footwork, your precision—almost at the level of a taijutsu master! Just needs a bit more polish."

Menma scratched his head, slightly embarrassed.

"Teacher Guy, you're too kind… I still have a long way to go. But… thank you for seeing me."

Guy gave a thumbs-up that nearly caught the sun. "Then let us shine even brighter! We'll polish your strikes until they sparkle like the stars in the night!"

"I'm ready to light the path with you, Teacher!" Menma mirrored him with a proud fist pump. The two of them burst into laughter like best friends finally reunited—one glowing with passion, the other too adorable to look away from.

Yoruusagi watched them with a soft expression. Nearby, Shisui whispered nervously to Kakashi:

"Umm… are they always like this? Is this safe? Will they explode?"

Kakashi, with the weight of all his regrets on his shoulders, muttered dryly:

"I've been regretting pairing them since the day I did. If we're lucky, they won't level the village."

Shisui slowly nodded and backed away.

After another laugh and a few playful words exchanged, Menma stepped forward with shining eyes.

"Teacher Guy, Teacher Yoruusagi, Brother Kakashi… now that I'm healed, please tell me how I'll train moving forward!"

He was eager, practically bouncing on his toes despite the exhaustion. He missed those days in the Senju compound—training with Kakashi, being scolded by Yoruusagi, writing dark notes of vengeance in his secret journal…

Well, everyone had coping mechanisms.

Guy stepped up first.

"Let me begin, Menma. Because mine will be your core focus for now!"

With a dramatic motion, he unfurled a sealing scroll. Menma, fascinated, resisted the urge to ask a thousand questions about the markings. He'd read about it soon anyway—the library awaited.

With a puff, the scroll released a set of clothing—bands and straps with small lead weights sewn in. Guy gently took one and wrapped it around Menma's forearm.

The second it was tightened, Menma nearly faceplanted.

Before he could complain, Guy added eight more—arms, legs, thighs, waist. One after another. When the last strap was fastened, Menma dropped to one knee with a resounding thud, cracking the earth beneath him.

Yoruusagi raised an eyebrow.

"Guy, isn't this a bit much? He can't even stand—"

"Wait," Guy said calmly.

Menma struggled—face red, muscles trembling. He moved one foot forward. Then the other. Slowly, unsteadily, he pushed himself upright. It took everything he had—but he stood.

Guy nodded in satisfaction. "Just as I thought."

Then, turning to everyone, he explained:

"Last time we fought, I noticed Menma was subconsciously suppressing his strength. His body holds enormous energy, but he never unleashes it fully. These weights will train him to use more of that hidden power without pushing him into danger."

"The training method is something I call—Turtle Training!" Guy posed dramatically.

"We'll practice at a deliberately mediocre pace. When Menma can execute every move at that speed with flawless form, we'll step it up. Little by little. Until we're blazing like comets!"

Menma finally managed a shaky grin.

"That… actually makes sense."

Yoruusagi stepped forward, now holding her own scroll. "And now my part."

Menma braced for more weights—but instead, she unsealed a strange machine. It looked like the lovechild of a sewing machine and a chakra fitness center.

"This is a chakra training device I designed," she said. "It has 27 modes and 12 levels per mode. You'll use three at once—power, control, and flow. Two and a half hours daily. This machine tracks everything."

"Just don't break it. It cost a fortune and there's no spare."

Menma blinked, stunned. Then, without a word, he hugged her gently and said:

"Thank you, teacher… I'll treasure it."

She smiled and stroked his head.

"Snow's still your queen though, huh?"

"She's royalty. I can't compete," he said, grinning.

Finally, Itachi and Shisui stepped forward.

"After your main training," Shisui said, "We'll teach you the art of weapons—shuriken, kunai, distance and precision control."

Menma looked at each of them, his heart warm, his eyes soft.

He already felt it—he was walking into the next chapter of his life.

Stronger. Smarter. Surrounded by people who cared.

Unaware that, far in the distance, a storm had already begun to take shape, racing toward him faster than he could yet imagine…

.....

After a short talk, ways with Phantom and Raven, Menma spent some time getting used to the iron-heavy weights strapped to his small frame. His movements were sluggish at first—every step felt like trudging through thick mud—but slowly, his body adapted. His joints cried in protest, but his heart was steady.

Under Teacher Yoruusagi's guidance and A's ever-watchful eyes, he began his first official chakra training session.

And it went… badly.

His chakra either burst out in explosive surges or dribbled out like an exhausted stream. He couldn't balance it—either too much or way too much. And his control?

Let's not even talk about that.

Watching Kakashi navigate the training device with fluid precision, manipulating every setting with ease, only made things worse. It wasn't just the technique—it was the realization that his own chakra passways were overfed, bloated with power and difficult to regulate. His chakra didn't flow; it crashed and slammed through his channels like a tidal wave in a narrow stream.

Still, he made progress.

He learned the right grip for kunai and shuriken from Yoruusagi—how to align his fingers, the proper posture to throw with force and accuracy. The moments passed like drops of golden light. It was far from easy, but it was worth it.

Eventually, the sun began to sink below the rooftops of Konoha, painting the sky in warm streaks of amber and crimson. Training ended, and people began to pack up.

Yoruusagi sealed away the chakra device and handed it to A, her tone serious: "This device is not to be opened or used unless I'm present and Menma is actively training. If anything breaks, it's on you."

Even A—stoic, hardened A—visibly flinched.

As the team made their way back to the heart of the village, Phantom and Raven left, their shifts complete. A passed off his duties to another ANBU and finally took his well-earned rest.

Then came the final blow: Kakashi was dragged away by Yoruusagi for their long-delayed date.

Menma waved them off cheerfully.

"I hope they get married soon," he whispered to Snow, who blinked at him like a sage queen withholding comment.

Now alone, he turned his steps toward the hot spring spa he had spotted during one of his earlier trips through the village—back when he was on his "mental health mission" with Kakashi. The memory made him chuckle softly.

As he entered the busy street, he was hit again by the warmth of this world. Lanterns glowed gently from eaves and signposts. Banners fluttered in soft twilight wind. Shops sparkled with light and color. The scent of grilled skewers and fresh dango wafted through the air. People laughed, bargained, walked hand-in-hand.

It was a living painting—full of noise, joy, and vibrant emotion.

Menma slowed down his steps, his heart drawn to the life around him.

And then—Kurama's voice pierced his thoughts.

"What does it have to do with you?"

Menma blinked.

"They're happy because they have what you don't," Kurama said, his voice deeper than usual, laced with something sharp. "Freedom. Family. Homes. People who love them. You, on the other hand… you have none of that. No past. No blood to claim. No legacy. So why—why aren't you jealous? Why don't you hate them?"

Menma's eyebrows rose. This was the first time Kurama had spoken to him like this—directly, without drama or sarcasm.

"Wait… you can talk inside my head now? That's amazing! Does this mean you can read my thoughts too? Can I whisper back? Do you—"

"Shut up." Kurama snapped. "Don't ask stupid questions. I'm not your personal chakra-powered pen pal. I can only hear you if you speak, or whisper clearly in your mind. Now stop dodging the question."

Menma fell silent.

Kurama's question wasn't wrong. He should be angry. Jealous. Bitter.

He looked around again. At the lovers laughing under shop lanterns. At children holding their parents' hands. At shopkeepers chatting with ease.

"I… I don't know," Menma whispered finally. "It's strange. I guess I should feel bitter. But I don't."

He looked down at Snow, who sat calmly in his arms, her eyes tracking the bustle of the street.

"I guess… I don't feel alone."

Kurama didn't reply—yet—but he was listening.

"I have Snow. She's been with me since the pain was too much to bear, even when I couldn't speak from it, she would smooth things with her call. I have Brother Kakashi—he might be moody and awkward, but he feeds me, looks out for me, even when I prank him."

He smiled, soft and distant.

"And Yoruusagi... she's the light in my day. When she's around, I feel like I've known her forever. Like she's a sister, a friend, a guide... and someone who just loves me without needing a reason."

He paused once again, and his smile deepened.

"There's also Granny Biwako, and Teacher Guy—who might shout too much but still shows up every single time I need help."

"And there's you too, Mr. Fox."

Kurama stiffened.

"I know I locked you away… and that's wrong. But you've never truly hurt me. Even when I mess up, you pull back your chakra. You never push me over the edge. You're always there, quietly watching… like a big, grumpy friend."

"I'm not your friend," Kurama muttered weakly. "I'm a force of nature. A disaster. The Nine Tails."

"But you care," Menma said softly. "Even if you don't want to admit it."

"You're such a pain…" Kurama grumbled. But his voice trembled, just slightly.

Deep inside the seal, Kurama leaned his great head on his crossed paws, eyes closed.

He didn't have a response.

Because it was true.

This boy, born with nothing, had chosen to give kindness anyway.

Like Kushina. Always like her.

Menma didn't say anything more. He let the quiet wrap around them.

By the time he reached the entrance of the hot spring spa, the streets had mellowed. After some intense negotiation with the staff to allow Snow inside ("She's royalty!"), and a request for a stone floor area to place his weights, he was finally allowed entry.

He changed into a towel, walked into the steam-filled chamber—and paused at the edge of the water.

Hot mist rose all around him. He smiled.

"Let's rest a little, Snow," he whispered. "We've earned it."

She meowed in agreement, and together they stepped into the warm waters—one tired boy, and one loyal queen.

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