The battlefield was not merely in ruins; it was a desecrated wasteland. Ash and dust, thick and suffocating, choked the air above the cratered center of Konoha, the very ground still trembling with residual tremors from the cataclysmic chaos of Pain's assault. Tsunade had collapsed, her life force spent, the village forces were holding barely, their strength ebbing against the relentless waves of invaders, and now, an eerie, heavy silence loomed where the storm had once raged, a silence pregnant with unspoken grief and impending doom.
Then the wind stirred, not a gentle breeze, but a cold, cutting gust, carrying the scent of rain and despair.
And from opposite ends of the ruined battlefield, two figures emerged, their destinies irrevocably intertwined, their paths converging for a final, heartbreaking confrontation.
Naruto stood tall, a defiant silhouette against the bruised sky—his Storm Release chakra crackling softly, ominously across his arms like miniature lightning storms, the remnants of his ANBU attire torn and burnt, clinging to his battered form. His eyes, though distant, burned with a fierce, unyielding light. His heart was heavy, a leaden weight in his chest. He had seen Jiraiya die, witnessed the brutal fall of friends, and felt the agony of his home crumbling around him. And now… this.
Across from him, a dark, menacing counterpoint, stepped Menma. His robes were dark as night, the Nine-Tails' crimson cloak whipping around him like a storm incarnate, a living manifestation of raw, untamed power. His face was not merely twisted; it was a contorted mask of raw emotion—anger, bitter regret, and a profound, aching pain etched into every corner, every line. His eyes were wild, unfocused, yet his stance was steady, rooted in a terrifying resolve.
Their gazes met across the ravaged earth, a silent, agonizing recognition passing between them. The air crackled with unspoken history, with years of longing, resentment, and a shared, twisted lineage.
Neither spoke. The silence stretched, taut and agonizing.
Until Menma, unable to contain the torrent of his anguish, finally did.
"You made them choose," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper, yet shaking with a barely contained fury that threatened to shatter it. "You, who didn't even have them. You took them from me. You stole my life, my love, my family!"
Naruto didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, the accusation striking a deep, painful chord. "They weren't mine either. Not at first. And when they came back… when they finally saw me… I thought they had forgotten me. I thought I was just the mistake they wanted to forget. The burden they wished they didn't have."
"Don't lie!" Menma's voice rose, a guttural growl underneath, laced with venom. "You had everything! Even without the beast, they started noticing you. The village whispered your name like you were some kind of savior! While I… I was just the other one!"
His chakra flared, a violent, crimson pulse, and the ground didn't just crack beneath him; it splintered outwards, radiating fissures of raw power.
"I was their son!" Menma shouted, his voice cracking with a desperate, raw anguish. "I was the child they loved. I was the one they protected! I was—I was supposed to be the hero!"
"And you were never alone," Naruto interrupted softly, his voice a stark, painful contrast to Menma's rage, yet carrying an undeniable weight of truth. "I was. Every day. Watching the lights in your house from the orphan windows. Listening to you laugh with our parents… while I pretended my ramen was enough to fill that gaping, empty hole in my heart. While I wondered why I wasn't enough."
For a heartbeat, the storm paused, the raw honesty of Naruto's words hanging heavy in the air, a momentary ceasefire in the emotional war.
Naruto's hand tightened around his kunai, his knuckles white.
"I never wanted to fight you," he continued, his voice breaking slightly, betraying the depth of his sorrow. "You were my brother. I looked up to you. I envied you. But… I never hated you. Not for a single moment."
Menma scoffed bitterly, a harsh, humorless sound. "Then you're a fool, Naruto. A naive, pathetic fool."
A red pulse of Kurama's yin chakra surged behind him, a malevolent aura. Tails didn't just curl from his spine; they erupted, thick and powerful, lashing the air like whips of pure malice. One… then two… then four, each one radiating a terrifying, oppressive power. The air turned heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and raw chakra. Heat radiated from Menma like a furnace, scorching the very ground.
"Because I hate you," Menma snarled, his voice distorted, inhuman, filled with the accumulated bitterness of a lifetime.
He shot forward, a crimson blur, faster than the eye could follow, a living missile of pure fury.
Naruto barely managed to deflect with his chakra-blade as a storm of red-tailed fury slammed into him, the impact sending a jarring shockwave through his body. Menma didn't hold back; every strike was meant to kill. Fist met lightning as Naruto countered with Storm Release: Thunder Fang, arcing bolts of crackling chakra crashing into the Nine-Tails' cloak, sparks flying like shattered stars. The blast scorched the earth, flattening the broken street into a deeper crater.
Menma twisted mid-air, a phantom of rage, flicking wind-chakra shuriken that shrieked through the air, which Naruto sliced through with precise, lightning-fast kunai, the metallic ring echoing.
They met in the middle—a maelstrom of punches exchanged, raw fury traded for desperate defense, each blow carrying the weight of their fractured past.
"Why couldn't you just stay in the shadows?!" Menma yelled, his voice a raw scream, as he delivered a devastating kick.
Naruto grunted as a claw grazed his ribs, tearing through his already shredded attire, but he pushed back, his eyes burning. "Because I wanted to stand beside you…Not behind you! I wanted to be a brother to you!"
They broke apart, chakra bleeding into the air, the ground beneath them groaning under the strain of their power.
Menma formed a massive Rasengan laced with Kurama's hate—not just black and red spirals, but a swirling vortex of pure, concentrated malice, shrieking with destructive power, promising annihilation.
Naruto closed his eyes for a fleeting second, taking a deep, steadying breath, steeling his resolve. Then, he summoned his own—pure blue, buzzing with the storm and unwavering resolve, a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness.
Their Rasengans clashed, two opposing forces of nature colliding in a single, devastating point.
The explosion didn't just level the nearby terrain; it vaporized it, a blinding, deafening cataclysm that ripped trees apart, shattered buildings into dust, and sent shockwaves rippling across the entire village.
In the aftermath, as the smoke slowly cleared, Naruto stood, bloodied, battered, his body screaming, but still on his feet, his gaze fixed. Menma was kneeling, panting, his body trembling, but not down, his eyes still burning with that same tormented fury.
"Give up, Menma," Naruto pleaded, his voice raw, laced with a desperate sorrow. "This isn't you. This isn't what our parents wanted for us."
"No." Menma's voice was low, guttural, filled with a chilling finality. "This… this is who I am now. This is who you made me."
Flashback — Menma's descent
Alone in the woods. The memory was sharp, painful. After Naruto's name began echoing through the village, a whisper that grew into a roar. After villagers, once so quick to praise Menma, started saying "You remind me of the Hokage," not to him, but to Naruto.
He remembered walking by a couple, their voices hushed, reverent. The woman whispered, "That's the one without the Nine-Tails… but look how strong he's become. He's a true hero."
Menma walked faster, his heart a cold, tight knot in his chest.
They weren't supposed to say that. He was the child of the Hokage. He was the one with the great power.
He was supposed to be the heir. The chosen one.
But suddenly, he wasn't enough.
Not anymore.
Back then, he cried in silence, a bitter, lonely anguish that festered and grew into a consuming hatred.
Present.
"Why couldn't I be enough?" Menma muttered, the words ripped from his soul, a desperate, childish plea buried beneath years of rage.
Naruto paused, his heart aching, the raw pain in Menma's voice echoing his buried insecurities. He took a step forward, extending a hand, a gesture of desperate connection.
"You were," he said, his voice soft but firm, unwavering. "You always were. You still are. You just couldn't see it."
Menma lifted his head, his eyes wild, filled with a profound, bitter disbelief. The Nine-Tails' chakra flickered around him, a malevolent shroud, responding to his inner turmoil.
"I don't believe you."
And he roared. A sound of pure, unadulterated rage and despair.
A six-tailed cloak erupted—his body warping, twisting, growing grotesque, mouth frothing with demonic chakra, his skin tearing, his humanity fraying, dissolving under the monstrous power.
Naruto closed his eyes, a single tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek.
"Then I'll stop you. Even if it breaks me. Even if it kills me."
He drew his final blade, its edge gleaming, reflecting the ominous glow of the Nine-Tails.
The storm gathered above, not just of rain, but of destiny, of a final, tragic clash between brothers.