Konoha, an Unknown Tea House
A gentle stream of steam curled from the rim of a clay teacup, mingling with the faint scent of aged tatami and brewed herbs. The humble tea house sat on the corner of a quiet street, wrapped in silence save for the ticking of an old wall clock and the occasional rustle of passing leaves.
The warm fragrance of roasted barley and dried chrysanthemum lingered in the air as delicate steam rose from finely crafted cups. The teahouse, tucked away in a quieter part of Konoha, felt distant from the bustling world outside. Its old wooden beams and faded scrolls gave off the air of a place that had listened to many secrets.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, placed his teacup down with a soft clink and looked across the table at the boy seated before him. Menma's red hair caught the last light pouring through the window, and the ever-present feline on his lap—Snow—lifted her head briefly, sensing the weight in the air.
Hiruzen spoke, his voice lower than usual, laced with a kind of weariness that comes only from long years of battle, politics, and regret.
"Menma… what we're about to discuss isn't just about today or tomorrow. It's about what your future could become. I've made mistakes—terrible ones. Ones that placed burdens on you no child should ever carry. I won't justify them. I won't ask you to forget them. But I will… selfishly… ask you to forgive us."
His voice carried weight—not just as the Hokage, but as a man weathered by time and regrets.
He exhaled slowly and stood up—his old knees cracking quietly beneath the weight of honor and sorrow. Then, to Menma's shock, he bowed.
"There's no excuse for the pain we've caused. The loneliness. The silence. I made the decisions, and I will bear the blame. So if there's someone you must resent… let it be me. If you feel hate, direct it at me. Not the village. Not the people. Just me, alone!"
Then, to Menma's utter shock, the elderly man stood up from the cushion and bowed deeply—hands placed neatly at his sides, head low in full formality. The bow of a commander, not to an equal, but to the smallest soul in the room
Menma's throat tightened. He sat still, his wide red eyes frozen in disbelief. This was no play. No ceremony. It was a real apology from a man who had once held the fate of nations in his palm. From a Hokage. And yet… he had bowed before a boy not even two years old. It was genuine. He felt it—not just in the bow, but in the weight it carried.
A Hokage… bowing to him?
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he slowly stood, using his cane to balance. The silence was fragile. Menma reached out, hesitantly, and guided Hiruzen back into a seat. His small fingers were trembling.
Kakashi remained silent, leaning back in his chair, one eye watching Menma closely from behind his mask. He had known this moment would come—he just hadn't known how much it would weigh.
It took him a long while before he could speak.
"I hated you…" Menma's voice was fragile, barely above a whisper. "I hated you so much I thought the world itself would fall apart from it."
His voice didn't tremble, but the emotion was raw.
He turned to look down at Snow, whose head now pressed warmly into his collarbone. Her purring steadied his breath. A long silence followed—like a thousand memories compressed into one breathless moment.
"You took everything away. My mother. My father. My place. My name. I hated you every night I cried alone in that cold Senju room, where no one remembered me unless they had to. I hated you so much I thought I might drown in it. Even after you left me alone in that cold, empty house, you asked me to grow up smiling."
His small shoulders tensed. He gripped Snow tightly, burying his face in her neck. The cat's fur muffled his sobs.
Tears fell freely, dampening Snow's fur. But even so, his voice grew stronger—anchored by a newfound conviction.
Kakashi didn't move. He sat, silently honoring the grief.
"But… I don't hate you anymore," Menma continued through the quiet. "Because I understand now. You weren't being cruel. You were afraid. You were trying to protect the village. You just didn't know how to protect me too… And… in some way… because you didn't want me to be used by those darker than you."
He looked up slowly. His eyes, red not from bloodlines but from grief and inherited pain from his mother, fixed on Sarutobi.
"I respect you… as a man. As a human being. Even as a Hokage. But as a child—as the one who was left behind—I can't forgive you. Not yet. I don't hate you anymore, Grandpa Third. But I won't forgive you. Not now. Maybe not ever."
He took the tea in front of him and drank it in one go. The bitterness felt fitting.
The silence that followed was not cold. It was honest. Silence settled between them until Menma wiped Snow's fur and made a small promise to her about bathing later. Then, he refocused on the old man across from him.
Kakashi lowered his gaze and nodded faintly. Sarutobi, quietly folding his hands on his lap, whispered more to himself than anyone else.
"That's fair. That's more than I deserve." he said with a quiet breath. "And more grace than I expected. I'll wait for your forgiveness, even if it takes my whole life."
Eventually, Menma sat upright, sipped his cooling tea, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He gave Snow another apologetic pat and smiled bitterly.
Hiruzen let out a breath of relief and led the conversation forward with a gentler smile. He straightened his back a little and sipped his tea before laying down the first revelation.
"Now, about your future. I've spoken to both Kakashi and Yoruusagi. It's time we made things right."
" Because I don't intend to keep you locked away anymore."
He sipped another glup of his tea before laying down the first revelation.
Menma blinked in surprise.
"Huh?"
"Starting today, you are free to roam the village as you please," Sarutobi said, sipping his tea. "You'll still have two to three ANBU nearby, of course. But where you go, what you see, who you meet—that's up to you. You can train with Guy, play in the village, visit wherever you like. You're no longer confined."
Menma blinked. "...Free?"
Menma was stunned. He glanced at Kakashi for confirmation.
The masked shinobi simply gave a nod with his usual half-lidded calm.
"Go explore, Menma," Kakashi said, a smile flickering beneath the mask. "Go see the world." Kakashi said. "Just don't burn down the place."
Menma's joy burst like a dam breaking. He couldn't believe it. Freedom. Real freedom. Snow got the worst of Menma's overflowing joy. She was promptly lifted high and given an assault of happy kisses despite her claws of protest.
Hiruzen chuckled warmly at the sight. He let the moment play out, then softly cleared his throat.
"Of course, there are some conditions."
The boy froze mid-celebration.
"Ah. There it is… Knew it."
Sarutobi smirked, enjoying the rare moment of teasing the boy.
"Let me start with the easiest one. Until you can fight Guy at his third gate without letting a drop of chakra leak out... no chakra use. Not even to warm your hands."
Menma blinked. "Not even a little chakra?"
"Not even to warm your toes," Sarutobi said, tone gentle but firm. "Your chakra is… massive, Menma. The smallest leak and it radiates like wildfire. Until you learn full control—no chakra. Break that rule twice, and your freedom is revoked. You'll be locked inside the Senju compound under supervision. And your ANBU detail will make sure of it. Break that rule twice and… well, let's just say you'll be enjoying Senju compound lockdown with only books for company."
Kakashi whistled lightly. "Ouch. That's harsh."
"It's fair," Sarutobi countered. "He needs full chakra control before the village panics again. Chakra density like his could fill the sky if it leaks."
Menma groaned.
Still, it wasn't an unreasonable rule. Menma nodded in resignation.
"Fine, fine. No chakra. But I better get good food during house arrest."
Sarutobi's expression shifted.
"That leads us to the second condition. From this day forward, you are to begin reading. You must read every important book in the Konoha library before your fifth birthday."
"Reading… what?" Menma asked cautiously.
"Everything," Sarutobi said simply. "Every book in the Konoha library."
Menma almost fell off his chair.
"WHAT?! That's insane! That's like… hundreds—no, thousands of books!"
"I'll make it easier," the Hokage offered. "No need to read repeated texts or outdated editions. We'll exclude redundant editions and superficial memoirs. But—"
He raised a finger.
"For each book you do read, you will write an explanation note. Clear, thoughtful, and in your own words. No copies. No skipping."
Menma groaned louder and let his head fall to the table.
Snow, in solidarity, plopped down atop his head.
But even through his despair, something stirred in his heart. A flicker of purpose.
Snow also used the moment to sniff his tea.
"This is punishment. Not freedom…"
"No," Hiruzen said gently, "It's foundation. One day, when you write down your own ideas to change the world, those notes will be the stones beneath your feet."
even through his despair, something stirred in his heart. A flicker of purpose.
He didn't know it yet, but this library challenge would birth something legendary. The notebooks he filled would soon be passed from hand to hand among scholars and shinobi alike. His unique signature—"Uzumaki Fighter"—would become the whisper of genius across Konoha and beyond.
Sarutobi smiled, seeing the future Menma couldn't yet imagine.
Menma looked up slowly, his mind already spinning. Books… notes… chakra control… and yet… freedom.
Real, wide, sun-filled freedom.
"about the pen name you will use to write your notes," he added, "It will help carry your ideas when your voice alone cannot. Words are weapons too, Menma. And yours will change minds."
Then, as if in afterthought, he leaned back.
"Reading those books... will give you more than knowledge. One of them may even teach you how to make mankind fly."
Menma's head lifted, curiosity lighting his eyes. "Fly?"
"Yes," Hiruzen said, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "There's an old text. Forgotten by most. A theory. On manipulating wind and chakra fields to lift mass. Dreams like that deserve a reader."
The world felt suddenly bigger than before.
Menma didn't know it yet, but in the years to come, people would speak of a boy who challenged not just the system—but gravity itself. A child who made even flight a possibility.
And it would all begin with that library.
"Any other conditions?" he asked, weary but intrigued.
The Third Hokage simply smiled and leaned back.
"You'll hear it soon enough. But for now, let's take it one step at a time. The world's big. But so are you, Menma."
For now, he let the silence linger as Menma, eyes burning with thought, imagined what it might feel like… to stand on a rooftop, and take off into the sky.
And for the first time in a long, long while, Menma smiled without reservation.
------
The tea had long since cooled in its porcelain pot, and a warm breeze whispered through the paper windows of the little tea house. Menma had just finished a sweet, chewy rice cake, happily munching between teasing Snow with light pokes and affectionate scratches under her chin. Snow, still sulking from the earlier barrage of public kisses, kept her nose in the air with royal indifference—but her tail flicking softly across Menma's wrist betrayed that she was secretly enjoying the attention.
As Menma giggled under his breath, trying to resist kissing Snow again, Sarutobi Hiruzen leaned back in his seat with a rare wicked glint in his aging eyes. He tapped his fingers against the side of his tea cup and suddenly smirked.
"Oh, and Menma," he said casually, "I almost forgot—I have one more piece of news. Depending on how you look at it, it might be bad or good."
Menma blinked. "Hmm?"
Hiruzen cleared his throat, the smile still tugging at his lips. "Starting next month, you'll receive a monthly allowance instead of having access to unlimited resources like before. You'll have the freedom to shop around and buy what you need. But… your food expenses? Those are on you now."
Slam.
Kakashi burst into laughter. It wasn't the subtle chuckle he usually reserved for his masked face; this was a full-body, gut-holding, back-thrown kind of laughter that practically shook the table.
Menma froze mid poke. His eyes slowly turned toward the Hokage. He blinked once. Twice. Then, as if divine revelation struck him like lightning, he suddenly shot up and teleported (in spirit, if not jutsu) to Kakashi's side, grabbing his arm with both hands and shaking it like a beggar shaking a vending machine.
"Kakashi-nii! My dearest big brother! You—you really do love me, don't you?! You're so happy right now because it means I'll be coming to your place for every single meal! I'm so moved! From today, I'll make sure to show up at breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the dot! I won't miss even snack time! We'll be together always!"
Kakashi paled. "Wait, wait—what—!"
Before he could react, Menma had already pulled a rolled-up contract from inside his jacket (Kakashi had just bought that jacket… when did he put that in there?!) and smack! pressed Kakashi's fingers into the ink pad and then onto the paper like a signing ceremony. He was scribbling as fast as a scribe under fire, jotting down witness names:
"Signed: Hatake Kakashi (unwilling). Witnesses: Yoruusagi (in absentia) and Hiruzen Sarutobi (grinning like a fox)."
"What is this?!" Kakashi cried, trying to read the fine print.
"Oh, nothing. Just a simple agreement stating you'll feed me for the next ten years out of undying love and loyalty! Also, there's a small clause about compensation in case of emotional damage—one billion Ryo, but we can negotiate."
Sarutobi quietly sipped his tea, his face turned politely away as if he saw nothing of the battlefield forming beside him.
Snow, on Menma's lap, gave Kakashi a long, pitying look. As if she, too, could see the man's soul quietly departing his body.
Eventually, after the hilarity calmed and Menma had returned to a somewhat functional state, the Hokage poured himself another cup of tea and resumed the serious part of their discussion.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I gave you a deadline for reading all the books before age five. The reason is simple," he said, voice steady again. "That's when you'll begin formal studies at the ninja academy. You'll be trained in the shinobi arts systematically—and no, before you even ask, I won't allow early graduation."
Menma made a face.
"Three years of free movement and personal development," Hiruzen went on, "to build your foundation. You'll train your body with Guy or Yoruusagi, hone your chakra control until you've mastered it completely, and develop your understanding of this world through books. This is a gift, Menma—but it's also your duty."
As he listened, Menma's face softened into something akin to peace. For once, things felt right. The world wasn't perfect, but the path ahead was clear. Even deep in the seal, Kurama perked up at the wave of joy surging through Menma's heart, and for no explainable reason, felt the corners of his fangs twitch into a... smile?
"Someone save me… Sage of Six Paths, where are you…" the fox muttered in the shadows, squirming under the glow of happiness threatening to poison his perfectly preserved gloom.
Just then, the tea house owner entered again, replacing the tea pot with practiced grace.
But before he could slip away, Menma's eyes locked on him like a hawk spotting a mouse in the snow.
"Excuse me, sir," Menma said politely. "I was wondering... Do you hate people?"
The owner froze.
Sarutobi and Kakashi's senses sharpened in a flash. Every muscle in Kakashi's body tensed beneath the chair. The Hokage's eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"I-I beg your pardon?" the man stammered.
"You hate people, right?" Menma continued calmly. "I can feel it. You hate almost everyone who walks into this tea shop. So… why run a tea shop at all? Isn't that kind of work hard on your soul?"
The man trembled. "W-What? No! I love people! I'm a normal civilian who loves talking and serving tea to people! Haha! What a silly thing to say!"
But he didn't move. He didn't blink. His hand on the teapot was trembling so badly it threatened to drop it.
"I just don't get it," Menma mused. "If you dislike people so much, why not find a job that doesn't involve customers?"
From behind the table, Sarutobi's eyes flashed. Kakashi was already halfway out of his seat.
Suddenly, a crash came from the kitchen. A dish had fallen. The man jumped like a startled bird.
"Oh! Sorry—I need to check on that!" he exclaimed, and before anyone could stop him, he vanished.
Menma blinked. "That was strange."
Kakashi stood. "I think I need to use the bathroom," he said, coolly picking up his ever-open book and walking away, hand already forming signals hidden behind the pages.
Once he left, Menma went back to sipping his tea—until Hiruzen's quiet voice interrupted.
"Menma, have you ever sensed people like that man before?"
"People who hate others?" Menma asked, head tilting thoughtfully. "Yeah, a few here and there. Why? Are they okay? Should we help them emotionally? Maybe they need a friend?"
Sarutobi nearly choked on his tea. "A friend," he echoed faintly.
Menma nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, like those three nurses in the hospital. They hated everyone. But I kept an eye on them and, well, their morals were amazing. They took care of every patient with precise chakra scans. They even helped clean up messes no one saw. I think they deserve a raise!"
The Hokage's smile was paper-thin now. Three spies in the hospital... helping? His head throbbed with the sudden stress. What the hell is Danzo even doing anymore?!
"And there's also that music shop guy," Menma added. "He always glares at people and plays sad tunes when no one's looking. But I bet if he gave me a guitar or something, I could cheer him up. I want to bring music to this world, you know? Maybe I'll teach them all how to play!"
Sarutobi looked like he was going to faint.
Menma, completely oblivious, smiled into his cup, already fantasizing about composing melodies that would one day change the soul of this shinobi world.
A little while later, Kakashi returned, calm and relaxed, wiping his hands with a napkin. "Alright, little Menma. Time to go. Your sister Yoruusagi is waiting."
The moment they reached home, Yoruusagi welcomed Menma with a beautiful smile, hugged him tightly—and then promptly grabbed his ear and dragged him inside.
For the next month, Menma lived in solitary house arrest, caught between happiness and suffering, training under the brutal regime of his sister-slash-teacher and coping with the gifts he unexpectedly received: a guitar, a zither, and a drum from the music store owner who, after a deep session with Konoha's top mental healers, had emerged "cured" and thankful.
Menma couldn't reach any of them yet. But just like Snow, who slept lazily in the sunlight without a care in the world, he too began to understand the joy of letting things wait just a little longer.
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