Konoha – Streets, rooftops, walls… everywhere in motion
Menma ran harder than he had in months—faster, freer, lighter. His bare feet struck the ground with a rhythm that echoed like war drums. He leapt over stone walls, bounced off crates, danced along narrow alley ledges, and when Guy tried to take the lead, he gave the man a little nudge to tip his balance and slip ahead.
This wasn't a race. It was a declaration:
"I'm no longer chained to guilt, grief, or ghosts."
Every turn, every flip, every controlled fall was a celebration. He could still feel the weight of the seal inside him, the echo of Kurama's breath, and the ancient heat of those eyes—but it didn't matter now. Even the red chakra lurking inside him had nothing on this wind, this sky, this pure, burning freedom.
He remembered something Mr. Fox had shown him—how he once ran across the desert, faster than the wind, just to feel unbound.
Maybe one day… maybe he could give him that freedom again. Without dying. Without sealing. Without fear.
Beside him, Might Guy was practically sparkling with emotion. He had never seen a child run like this—not just with speed, but with expression. Menma didn't treat obstacles as threats—he made them part of his art. A low wall became a springboard; a narrow alley, a dance floor. He flipped, twisted, bent the world around his body like fire moving with the wind.
"He's not a boy," Guy thought.
"He's a phoenix. And his flames are only beginning to bloom."
He was already planning it. A full training regimen. Daily races. Sparring duels. Philosophy lectures on the Power of Youth and how to weaponize passion! Anbu missions? Later! First, this child needs to know how to soar.
Eventually, they reached the wide, open plains of Training Ground Number Ten. Menma slowed down, catching his breath, grinning with joy as he admired the area. Guy marveled at how light the boy's footsteps remained despite all the running.
But the moment of peace was cut short.
Whoosh!
Three masked ANBU appeared in front of them, landing in synchronized precision.
"You are not authorized to be here. Please leave immediately."
Guy blinked, stunned.
"Wait, what? Wasn't Menma allowed here?"
He turned toward the boy—only to find Menma with the worst fake innocent face in Konoha history. His lips twitched from holding back a smirk. Even Guy, with his legendary face-blindness and hopeless social cues, could tell this little phoenix had just pranked the entire system.
"This is Training Ground Ten. Authorization was granted for Ground Seven."
"...Oh." Guy froze, realization hitting like a kunai to the forehead.
"Oh no... he really did say ten, didn't he?!"
Menma gave his best sheepish smile.
"Oops… I must've misheard, Mr. Guy. So sorry! Could we maybe, uh, run back the other way again? Just one more time?"
Guy's jaw dropped.
"Kid, if you weren't grinning like a bandit, I might have believed you."
Still, as Menma clenched his fists and stretched his shoulders, his chakra flared to life, body steaming in the cold air like a living furnace.
"I'm always ready to burn my youth times!"
Those words, that fire—Guy's heart practically exploded.
"Then let's shake the very bones of Konoha with our blood-pumping youth! Ready? ON MY COUNT!"
"ONE! TWO! THREE—GOOO!!"
The two streaked off, leaving gusts of wind and startled civilians in their wake. The ANBU, groaning, prepared to pursue again.
"At this rate, we'll need chakra pills before lunch."
---
Back at the Hatake Mansion – War Room: Kitchen
Meanwhile, Kakashi had a terrible realization.
"…Wait… I think they went the wrong way."
He stood still, deadpan.
"They'll be fine. Probably."
Yoruusagi, fully armed for battle—only this time against dust and grime—stood across from him with a rag in one hand and a bucket of soap water in the other. Apron tied, gloves snapped on, her face covered by a white cloth.
"Let me get this straight," she asked dryly.
"You're voluntarily deep-cleaning the whole house... the same house I once begged you to clean a single room in... because a cat found a grasshopper?"
Kakashi was already filling a new bucket.
"This is no ordinary house infestation. This is a code-red, fur-triggered crisis. And no, we won't be doing it alone."
Poof!
Four perfectly synchronized Kakashi clones appeared, each in matching cleaning gear.
Yoruusagi looked at them. Then at Kakashi. Then back at them.
"…You had this many shadow clones all along, and you made me do the windows myself last month? You jealous of Menma stealing your spotlight or what?"
Kakashi didn't answer.
Instead, he turned off the tap, wiped his hands on a towel, and faced her.
"Is asking you as a friend… enough?"
Yoruusagi blinked. Her chest tightened—not with sadness, but a pinch of something tender. She pretended to think it over, humming theatrically.
"Hmm… Nope! Not enough to kidnap a beautiful, rare Uchiha like me!"
Kakashi hesitated.
He wanted to say more. She could see it in his eye. But fear still gripped the part of him that remembered Rin, that remembered loss. She let it go for now.
"Alright. I'll write it under your emotional debt ledger. Just know, the interest's insane. You're gonna owe me big."
Poof!
Four Yoruusagi clones appeared, stretching with a grin.
"Your special friend, Yoruusagi, reporting for dust warfare."
Kakashi exhaled deeply, amused and humbled. The clones took their assignments, scattering with brooms and mops.
But Kakashi? He turned away from the hallway. There was one room he wasn't ready to clean. Not yet.
That door could wait a little longer. But not forever.
.....
Konoha – Training Ground Number 7
While Kakashi was navigating the emotional minefield back home, two blazing comets had finally crash-landed in a snowy crater—Menma and Guy lay sprawled across the frost-laced training field, panting like wild beasts.
They had just cut a line through Konoha like a hot kunai through parchment. Menma's plan—a tiny, harmless misdirection—had earned him a view of places normally locked away from him, all thanks to a detour through the forbidden Training Ground Ten. A little mischief, a little motion… and now his heart was soaring.
His senses had been wide open the entire run, soaking in everything like a sponge. Civilians chatting. The colors of open stalls. ANBU moving in the shadows. And something strange—despite his status, nobody stared with hatred. No fingers pointed. No fear.
Was it because of Mr. Guy, the walking bonfire of joy beside him? Or had the villagers simply become used to him over time?
He didn't know. And for the first time in a long time… he didn't care.
Still breathless, Menma rolled onto his knees and slowly stood. Steam rose off his skin, melting the snow around his feet. That chakra—the same one Kurama loathed—had begun boiling in him again. It always did during deep training. It raced through his veins like a second bloodstream, burning too fast, pushing too hard.
Normally he had to suppress it, or he'd pass out.
But with Guy nearby... he didn't need to hold back.
Guy, who had barely kept up with Menma's rising speed on the return run, now sat upright, absolutely dumbfounded. That last stretch… he'd had to go all out to keep pace.
And now the boy was standing again. Steam rolling off his shoulders. Snow evaporating. Was this even a human child?
"Kakashi, what kind of dragon have you been raising…?"
Staggering upright, Guy walked over and took Menma's hands, checking his pulse, pressing his fingers over muscle and bone. The structure was flawless. The recovery rate? Insane.
This boy… was already ready to unlock the first two Gates. At age one and a half.
Guy's voice brimmed with fire.
"Menma-kun, that was spectacular! I've never seen anyone run with such freedom—not even my eternal rival Kakashi has ever burned so brightly!"
"Tell me—who taught you to move like that?!"
Menma, fully recharged and eyes sparkling, scratched his cheek. How was he supposed to explain "parkour" from a parallel life?
"Well, no one really taught me. When I trained by myself, I set up obstacles to improve balance and reaction time. Eventually… I just started having fun with it."
Half-truth, half lie. He'd never admit to his real source.
Guy was amazed.
"So it's your own creation! A manifestation of pure will and youthful creativity!"
"Then—what do you call this style?"
Menma blinked. His mind flicked through memories of old phone games, mischievous misadventures, and rooftop leaps.
"…Temple Runner. Or maybe Maze Runner?"
Guy paused.
He blinked once. Then twice. And then—
"TEMPLE RUNNER!! A name of faith! Of elegance! Of burning light and blind leaps of hope!"
"Little Menma! May I carry your art in my body and soul? May I spread it to others?! Teach them to run as you do!"
Menma grinned. There was something about Guy's pure soul that made everything easier.
"Absolutely, Teacher Guy. Teach it. Use it. Spread it. If I come up with more, I'll tell you first. Together, our light will blind the eyes of anyone too afraid to see it."
That day, the Blue Beast of Konoha was reborn with a new name—"The Temple Runner of Faith."
An ANBU agent arrived a moment too late to see the heavenly trail left behind. Guy turned back, slightly disappointed they had missed it.
"Now then, Little Menma—tell me your training routine so we can build a day full of flame!"
"Can I call you Teacher Guy from now on?"
Guy's eyes lit up like sunrise.
"Yes! Yes, my student! I would be honored!!"
Menma grinned and launched into his daily plan: balance drills, speed work, target detection, pattern analysis, and finishing with fists and kicks—raw hand-to-hand combat.
Guy listened, stunned. This boy had already mapped out a near-perfect physical regimen.
"Then here's the plan! Morning—we do all non-combat drills. Afternoon—we fight until your legs give out. Evening—we feast on Kakashi's fish! And after that… we train until the sun leaves the sky! Sound good?!"
"It's perfect, Teacher!"
From that moment, they dove into training like two men possessed.
---
Later That Morning – The Peak of the Sun
Menma was panting, one hand braced on a wooden pillar, legs shaking. Sweat glistened on his skin. His body was burning inside and out, and his chakra coils were near-depleted.
And still, he stood.
Any other shinobi would've collapsed hours ago. Even with high-level recovery, his body was screaming. But his will? It burned like steel inside his chest.
Guy sat nearby, perched atop a wooden post like a guardian deity. Even now, Menma's heat still steamed through the winter air.
"This kid has no concept of 'giving up'. He rises, again and again… like the sun after a storm."
A moment of silence passed.
Guy jumped down and approached him, eyes glowing.
"Menma, I have trained with many—but none with your resolve. You'll climb the mountain of Taijutsu and stand at its peak… where no one has dared to plant a flag before."
Menma blinked, heart racing.
He'd seen Guy fight. He knew how terrifying his strength was. And now… this man believed in him.
"T-thank you, Teacher Guy…"
Guy smiled, clapped his shoulder, then gestured to the training field.
"Now—are you ready for our spar? Let's see your spirit shine!"
Menma's eyes lit with joy—and power.
His chakra, once calm, now raged like a storm in his veins. It sizzled under his skin. Kurama stirred inside the seal, raising an eyebrow.
"Tch… what the hell is he doing now?"
Menma stepped forward into the clearing, adopting the stance Yoruusagi had taught him—low, firm, confident.
Guy felt it too. Not through chakra sensing—he didn't have that gift—but in the air. In the heat rolling off Menma's limbs.
This boy was burning with the will to fight.
"Let our youth BURN until the gods look down and SWEAT!!" Guy bellowed.
He lifted one palm forward, the other behind his back, formal and steady.
From the trees, ANBU flinched.
"...Shit."
"That's NINE TAILS CHAKRA on that kid…"
"Backups—immediately. We've got a Guy situation. Again."
But it was too late. Menma and Guy stood ready.
And the next moment—they exploded into action.
---
---
Across Konoha, whispers traveled faster than smoke.
In hidden corners, behind locked doors and within veiled rooms, the same name echoed:
"The Nine-Tails."
Signals flared. Surveillance ninjas exchanged glances. A sudden spike of volatile chakra—tail-chakra—was detected in Training Ground 7. The entire zone had already been quietly sealed off earlier that morning. Now the whispers grew louder.
> "Konoha has started training their jinchūriki already?"
> "But the boy's only a year and a half…"
If true, this changed everything. A jinchūriki that young, already syncing with the beast inside him, would become a living weapon before he could even read properly.
Plans needed rewriting. Risks recalculating.
From a land far beyond Konoha's borders, one shadowed observer leaned back, eyes sharp, heart cold.
> "So the Leaf is grooming its little demon earlier than we thought…"
---
Afternoon — Hatake Mansion
"Puff! … Puff! … Puff!"
Eight clouds of white smoke exploded into the air—Kakashi and Yoruusagi's shadow clones vanished, their accumulated fatigue crashing back into their original bodies all at once.
"Urrghh…" Kakashi groaned, massaging the base of his neck. Yoruusagi dropped to her knees, panting with exhausted dignity.
"I hate you. You owe me five gourmet dinners and a spa trip," she muttered, half-bitter, half-playful.
"Duly noted," Kakashi croaked.
They had scrubbed, swept, sanitized, and sterilized every inch of the Hatake mansion—from ceiling beams to floor tiles. All to remove a single grasshopper. The absurdity hadn't dulled the pain in their limbs.
Yoruusagi leaned back, letting her long dark hair fall against the freshly-polished wooden paneling.
"Finally, it's over… I wonder how Menma and that green inferno of passion are doing."
Kakashi flinched.
He had completely forgotten.
Guy. Menma. Together. Unsupervised.
He was going to bleed.
A bead of sweat slid down his cheek.
"Actually," he said, almost trembling, "there's one last room."
He stood, slowly, as if something ancient inside him stirred. Bucket in one hand, rag in the other, he walked through the hall with uncertain steps.
Yoruusagi followed. As he stopped in front of a closed door—one untouched, unspoken of, and unopened for years—she noticed the change in his eyes.
"Kakashi," she asked gently, "is something wrong with this room?"
He didn't answer right away. She waited.
After a long silence, he spoke—his voice low and tight.
"It's… my parents' room. I haven't opened it since… since my father died."
"I used to stand here, staring at this handle. Telling myself I'd let go of the past, but I couldn't. I couldn't face the smell of it. The ghost of his presence."
His breath hitched.
"The last time I saw him, he was sitting at his desk. Calm. As if everything was fine. I didn't know it would be the last time. The next morning… he was gone."
"For years I couldn't decide if he was a hero... or a disgrace."
His words fell like heavy stones in the hallway.
Yoruusagi stepped closer. Her eyes, warm and wet, gazed at him not as a teammate, not even as a would-be lover—but as someone who had once stood outside a fence, desperate to break through.
"Now I know why I fell for you."
He turned to her, startled.
"You too, you and Menma, are too much similar."
She smiled faintly and leaned her shoulder against his.
"Always standing, even when the world tries to crush you."
She looked toward the closed door, her expression softening further.
"Let me tell you a story."
"There once was a girl. An Uchiha prodigy. Cold, calculating, envied by everyone. Until one day, a boy appeared. A boy who broke every record she'd set. Who was stronger, faster, sharper."
"But that boy… he lost his father. Not to war—but to politics. A disgrace, they called him."
"She tried to approach him once. To offer something—anything. But she was stopped. Why? Because she was an Uchiha."
"Her presence would only hurt him more."
"So she waited. For years, she visited the cemetery quietly, standing where no one would notice. Hoping… one day… she could walk beside him."
Her voice trembled now, but she pressed on.
"Fate finally gave her that chance. A mission. A shared responsibility. To care for a boy… and in that boy, she saw the same fire. The same pain. The same broken, unbending will."
"She fell in love with that boy too."
A pause.
"And now… both boys are pulling her forward. Teaching her what it means to love without hesitation."
Kakashi swallowed hard. He looked at her—really looked—and saw the truth she had buried for so long.
"Yoruusagi…"
She placed her hand on his.
"So, Kakashi… is there something wrong with this room?"
He hesitated. Then shook his head.
"No. Just some… old memories."
Taking a breath, he reached for the handle. Slowly, deliberately, he turned it and pushed the door open.
Light spilled in. Dust danced like falling ash.
And then—
They froze.
There, in the center of the room, was Snow—absolutely covered in dust, sitting proudly before organized lines of dead insects.
Roaches in rows. Mice sorted by size. A display of deathly efficiency.
And in her tiny paw?
A frog. Still alive. Still twitching.
Snow glanced at them, as if caught with her paw in the cookie jar. She slowly released the frog with feline grace.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Croooaaaaak…"
Kakashi blinked. He hadn't seen any pests all day… now he knew why.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"CROOOAAAAAAK!!!"
BANG!
The frog met its final form—flattened against the hallway wall like a popped balloon.
Kakashi winced. Slowly turned.
Yoruusagi, now dustier than ever, was smiling sweetly. A little too sweetly.
"It was noisy."
Kakashi gulped. He must never make this lioness angry. Ever.
"Meooow~"
Snow, of course, purred proudly, fluffing her tail like a queen on her battlefield of fallen foes.
---