Konoha – Training Ground #7
Explosions rattled the perimeter. Dust and chakra tore through the sky like a blazing signal. Dozens of ANBU operatives raced toward the epicenter, sprinting rooftops and shadow-leaping through alleyways, blades drawn, senses honed.
Behind them, the Senju Clan's Sealing Unit followed in urgency, having been abruptly torn away from their post-cleanup seal inspection. One word on the ANBU's tongue chilled them more than the winter air: "Code Red."
"Already?! We just secured his residence last night—how can the Jinchūriki be destabilized again so soon?"
But as they crested the final ridge and saw what lay ahead, the answer was as clear as it was horrifying.
Menma Uzumaki—short, shirtless, and utterly ablaze with chakra—was trading blows with Might Guy, Konoha's infamous Green Beast of Youth. The pair were locked in brutal, seamless hand-to-hand combat, fists flashing like lightning, feet cracking the earth.
The ground trembled with every step. Steam hissed as chakra collided with the cold air. Neither was holding back. Neither could afford to.
---
From the outside, it looked like madness. But for Guy and Menma, it was a sacred conversation. A communion of spirit, speed, and trust.
When Guy first faced Menma across the clearing, he expected a hot-headed charge. But instead, Menma approached like a seasoned warrior: testing, feinting, analyzing. His jabs were cautious but clever. He probed Guy's defense with calm intent.
"This boy… He's not fighting like a child. He's fighting like someone who's been taught. Someone who's endured."
– Might Guy's internal thoughts
Unbeknownst to Guy, Menma's only combat training had come from Yoruusagi's relentless shadow clone beatdowns—and she didn't pull punches. Literally. She even activated her Sharingan when he showed signs of progress, just to beat him harder.
So now, standing across from a real opponent, Menma moved like a feral scholar. Calculated. Adaptable. Dangerous.
As Guy slowly increased his speed and power, he was impressed at first. But then... the tempo shifted.
Menma's chakra ignited like a furnace.
His right eye glowed with a blood-hued shimmer. The rhythm of his attacks changed—evolved. No longer a steady pattern of jabs and kicks, but a fluid, unpredictable storm. He flowed like fire across a riverbed, weaving fists and kicks into a seamless dance of destruction.
"He's reading me. No, he's dissecting me… Like a surgeon in a ring of fire."
– Guy's internal monologue
Menma saw not just movements, but weak points. As a doctor, he knew anatomy intimately. He aimed for exposed nerve clusters, pressure points near arteries, and awkward bone angles that martial artists often ignored. Guy, ever the master, blocked or neutralized most of it—but it was clear:
Menma wasn't just sparring. He was learning. And he was hungry.
That hunger began drawing on deeper power. The air vibrated with crimson chakra, unfurling like smoke from Menma's pores. Kurama's chakra—untamed, but not hostile—wrapped around him like a cloak of flame.
Yet there was no hatred in it. No killing intent. Only joy.
"He's burning brighter than the sun… from joy? He's not corrupted. He's free."
– Guy's internal monologue
And then Guy realized he could no longer hold back. He opened the First Gate—Gate of Opening, and surged forward once more.
---
Inside Menma's mind, the world slowed.
He could see everything—each twitch of Guy's muscles, each displacement of breath. His body was boiling, but his mind was sharp. For the first time, he felt he wasn't chasing someone's approval, wasn't fighting to survive.
He was simply fighting to feel alive.
Guy pushed to the Second Gate, then the Third, keeping pace, barely.
Somewhere far behind, an ANBU operative from the Yamanaka Clan finally made mental contact:
("Might Guy! Abort immediately! The Jinchūriki is unstable! This is a Code Red situation!!")
Guy flinched—not from fear, but surprise—and took a grazing punch to the shoulder. He leapt back instinctively, his defenses barely holding.
("Who?! I'm a little busy getting tenderized here!")
– Guy, mentally replying while dodging a flaming spin kick
The ANBU ninja nearly fainted from the sheer chaotic chakra pressure.
He shouted into the link:
("You're fighting the NINE-TAILED FOX HOST! Are you out of your MIND?!")
Guy froze. For half a second, his mind caught up with his instincts.
("Wait—this chakra is the Nine Tails?! Why didn't Kakashi tell me?!")
But Menma wasn't done. He pressed forward: uppercuts, rapid strikes, an elegant spinning kick that nearly launched Guy into orbit. His tiny hand latched Guy's ankle midair, yanking him into a brutal elbow to the ribs.
Only instinct and experience kept Guy conscious.
This kid… is a demon of motion.
---
At that moment, the ANBU linked to another figure in the shadows—the Third Hokage himself.
("Let me speak to Guy. I'll give the orders.")
The moment Guy heard Sarutobi's voice, he instinctively bowed—then took a punch to the jaw for his reverence.
("Loud and clear, Lord Third! Just... wow, that's a good left hook.")
Sarutobi listened to Guy's assessment and was staggered by the implications.
"He's not possessed… He's synchronizing. That chakra isn't consuming him. It's dancing with him. Menma… is a perfect Jinchūriki."
Grieving for what he had done to Kushina. Grieving for the weight Menma now carried. Sarutobi issued his command.
("Guy… in five minutes, open the Fourth Gate. Don't hesitate. Don't pull back. Stop him—but do not kill him.")
Guy's smile returned.
("Understood, Lord Third. If it's my student's first true battle—then let me show him the full passion of youth.")
And five minutes later...
Konoha's Green Beast of Prey was born.
---
Menma's mind was still.
It wasn't empty in the way that panic clears a mind or trauma dulls the senses. No—this was clarity. Pristine, razor-sharp clarity. The first time in his entire life where he wasn't bombarded by flashes of noise, voices, fractured memory, pain, or fear.
There was only motion.
A jab—telegraphed.
A feint—decoy.
A real kick—left foot, midsection, predictable.
Muscles tense, angle shifts, balance breaks—punish it.
He saw everything.
And not like before—he truly saw. Each motion, each twitch of muscle fiber beneath skin, each vibration of chakra weaving through nerves. His thoughts weren't racing—they were calm, aligned in a single stream.
If a bee buzzed past, Menma was certain he could count its wingbeats.
If a kunai flew by, he could track its curve by the shimmer of light on the blade.
Even time seemed to slow—not because of his speed, but because of his stillness.
Might Guy, too, had become transparent. His passion flared so bright, it was no longer hidden. Menma didn't just read his intent—he could see it. The pulse of Guy's chakra—thick, disciplined, blazing with life—spoke louder than any word.
He even noticed a subtle thread of chakra branching from Guy's mind, pulsing at intervals. A telepathic link, perhaps. It interfered with his rhythm slightly—enough for Menma to time an attack if he wanted.
"He's cheating a little... That makes two of us."
He smirked, internally.
But then—he saw more.
Through observation alone, Menma began to perceive the Eight Gates.
Each time Guy surged with power, Menma watched the flow of chakra expand outward—moving from a new internal "chamber" to another.
First Gate – Speed increased.
Second Gate – Power surged.
Third – Control deepened.
Fourth—
There it was. The pain.
As Guy opened the fourth gate, Menma felt his agony. Saw it ripple across his aura like cracks on a glass mirror. Not physical injury—but raw, inner strain. Chakra screaming through the body at a cost no one else could see.
"So that's the price," Menma thought, "Not pain. Sacrifice."
He wanted to stop. To pause the fight and ask Guy if it was worth it.
But Guy—the stubborn green lion—flashed him the brightest grin he'd seen yet… and charged.
Menma's eyes tracked his movement, but his body couldn't follow anymore.
His spine understood. His brain processed. But his limbs?
Too slow.
All he could do was grit his teeth, clench his muscles, and try not to break.
BANG.
Guy struck.
The hit sent Menma flying, crashing into the earth like a comet, tearing a trench in the frozen ground. Before the dust could even settle, Guy was already there again.
BANG.
He hit again.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A symphony of strikes followed, fast and furious, driving Menma back and down, again and again.
Each impact shook the marrow of his bones.
He felt ribs creak, a wrist go numb, the side of his jaw buzz with tinnitus.
But through it all—his mind never wavered.
The calm still lingered.
And somewhere deep inside the bruised, bloody wreckage of his body, Menma made a decision.
"If my body can't follow my thoughts anymore… then I'll out-think him. I'll beat him at the one thing left to me—timing."
As Guy launched his final burst, Menma predicted the trajectory, calculated the velocity, measured the reaction window, and committed it all to muscle memory.
As he tumbled in the air, limp and broken, he shifted just enough to land where he needed—perfectly within striking range.
With the last ounce of power in his being, he twisted, brought back his fist, and punched.
Straight to Guy's solar plexus.
It wasn't a rage punch. Not vengeance. Not hatred.
It was a declaration.
"You're my teacher. And I'll meet you on your level—no matter the cost."
Guy grunted, eyes wide. The wind blasted out of his lungs. The impact threw him backwards like a ragdoll, skidding into a nearby crater.
Menma landed seconds later—face-first, unmoving.
---
All went still.
From the treetops and cliffside, the Sealing Corps came running.
Several ninja in white robes sprinted toward Guy's crater as medics barked for chakra scans and vitals. Others swarmed Menma, drawing intricate seals and prep tags, but hesitated as they saw the chakra cloak already receding.
Kurama's presence was still there—but quiet.
Watching.
Inside the seal, the fox narrowed his eyes.
"He just used my chakra like air. No effort. No flare. It just… obeyed him. What is this kid?"
---
Back in the crater, Guy coughed, propping himself up with a shaky elbow.
"Haaa… He got me. What a punch... That was youth incarnate."
Across the training ground, Menma lay still, eyes closed, chest barely rising.
"Kakashi's fish…"
"...Snow's fur..."
"Yeah. That sounds like heaven."
Then the dark took him—quiet, dreamless, warm.
And the world finally exhaled.
---
The silence of the hospital hallway was shattered by a voice laced with fury.
"...What were you thinking, asking Guy to attack him like that?! He's a child! A one! Year! Old! Child!"
A door was pushed open with enough force to shake the hinges. Inside the small administrative room, Third Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen stood, impassive but clearly wearied by the emotional onslaught.
"You have no idea how bad he was when they brought him in!" Biwako's voice was sharp with accusation, her hands clenched into fists at her side. "Do you know what we found, Hiruzen? Broken ribs. Shattered hand. Cracked foot. Dislocated shoulder. He looked like he'd fallen off a cliff—twice!"
Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions, but she kept going.
"Outside that room are children playing with flowers and mud, Hiruzen! They laugh and cry over scraped knees—and here you are, turning him into a weapon, breaking his body over and over just because you suspected a chakra leak might mean a tailed beast rampage?!"
She slammed a medical report onto the table in front of him.
"Tell me, Hiruzen—how many tails did you see? Go on, tell me! No, wait—you don't have to. I already know the answer: none. Not a single one."
Her eyes blazed now, the motherly instinct in her stronger than any ANBU operative's resolve.
"When are you finally going to admit it? That boy's chakra is so deeply fused with the Nine Tails, you can't separate the two anymore. He is the Jinchūriki—and still, that doesn't make him the Fox itself!"
She turned her gaze to one of the attending jonin standing in the corner, who had relayed the order from the field.
"And you!" she pointed with a shaking finger. "You told that idiotic Green Beast to open the fourth gate?! Do you even understand what kind of trauma that causes to a child's body—one still in development?!"
Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"...All of this... because his chakra leaks when he trains too hard? How laughable."
---
Ward 3C – Medical Wing, Konoha Hospital
Menma opened his eyes slowly. Bright, sterile light filtered into his pupils, making him wince as his vision adjusted.
Everything hurt.
His entire body throbbed with dull and sharp aches, and each breath reminded him that ribs were indeed not designed to break in quite so many places. He blinked a few times, registering the clean ceiling above him, the rhythmic beeping beside him, and the familiar scent of antiseptic.
Back here again.
Another year had passed, and he was once again lying in a hospital bed—the same place where everything had fallen apart before. Only now, he was stronger… but so were the expectations weighing on his shoulders.
He looked down as much as he could. His upper body was tightly bound in white bandages. His left arm and leg were immobilized, thick casts keeping them in place. He could still feel the reverberation of Guy's punches echoing through his bones.
"He's really heavy-handed…"
Attempting to sit up, a bolt of pain surged through his chest and spine, forcing him to hiss through gritted teeth. Broken ribs, again. Maybe worse than before.
Outside the room, the argument had gone silent. A moment later, a familiar voice returned—not booming, not scolding, but gentle and hesitant.
Biwako Mitokado stepped in, her expression already cracked at the edges, tears staining her cheeks.
She hadn't changed much, but something about her looked more fragile now—like time had caught up to her guilt. Yet the moment her eyes met Menma's, the tension melted, and something old and familial returned.
Menma forced a weak, but genuine grin.
"Granny Biwako... how are you doing? Did you miss me?"
The tears that had lingered finally fell freely. She came to his bedside immediately, hands twitching in the air, wanting to reach for him but stopping short. Afraid, perhaps, that touching him would feel like touching regret.
He saw it. And he understood.
Without hesitation, he leaned his head forward, offering it to her.
She gasped softly—and placed her trembling hand on his head.
Her palm, warm with motherly love and decades of worry, slowly stroked through his red hair.
"You've suffered so much, growing up alone, little Menma. I'm… I'm so sorry…"
He gave her a soft smile.
"It's alright, Granny Biwako. I never blamed you… not really."
And that was it. The dam broke.
She wept openly now, cradling his head against her, and he allowed her to—because this pain wasn't just his anymore. They shared it now.
A cough interrupted the moment. Hiruzen, standing in the doorway, offered a small smile… but his eyes betrayed the weight of guilt he carried.
"If your throat's uncomfortable, you can ask for hot water," he said, voice tired.
His gaze softened as he looked at the boy in the bed.
"How do you feel, little Menma?"
Menma's response was slow, honest, and slightly cheeky despite everything:
"Painful… tired… hungry… and… I miss someone."
Hiruzen blinked. "Miss someone?"
Menma blinked back.
"My cat. Snow."
"Ah," Hiruzen chuckled faintly. "You mean that little white kitten? I'm afraid pets aren't allowed in the hospital. Though, now that you mention it… I still haven't told Kakashi about your condition—or Guy's."
Menma's expression changed.
"Guy-sensei… is he okay?"
His voice trembled slightly. The last punch he had thrown—it had connected hard.
Sarutobi nodded reassuringly.
"Guy is fine. A few internal injuries and cracked bones, but no breaks. He'll be discharged in a few days. You gave him a run for his money, that's for sure."
Menma exhaled, relieved.
"And… me?"
This time, Biwako answered, dabbing at her eyes as she regained her composure.
"Nothing serious that can't heal… but you'll be here at least a week. No training. No chakra use. And no Snow."
Menma slowly lowered himself back into the pillow.
"…A whole week without Snow…? That's worse than the broken ribs…"
---
Meanwhile… at the Hatake Mansion
BOOM!
A pan clanged loudly in the kitchen, followed by a shout that echoed through the hallway.
"YOU SAID WHAT?! GUY WAS BEATEN?! MENMA'S IN THE HOSPITAL?! TRAINING GROUND #7 IS DESTROYED AND BEING REPAIRED?! HE CAN'T SEE SNOW FOR A WHOLE WEEK?!"
Silence.
Then…
MMEEEEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
Snow, puffed up like a white marshmallow possessed by divine fury, leapt to the top of the table and declared war upon the universe.
Kakashi stood frozen, still holding a dish towel in his hand.
"…I'm going to bleed for this."
---