Menma Uzumaki

"

Menma wandered aimlessly at first, taking in the oppressive environment. But as he replayed the battle from earlier in his mind, one thought rose above the rest 'I need to figure out exactly what I can do.'

He wasn't going to survive in this world by luck or brute force alone. If Orochimaru wanted to use him, he'd damn well make sure it wasn't as a pawn.

After asking a few reluctant subordinates, who seemed to avoid eye contact as much as possible, Menma finally found someone willing to give directions to the training grounds. It was a large, open chamber carved out of the stone, its floor marked with faded seals and scuff marks from countless battles. Torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows that gave the space a foreboding energy.

Standing in the middle of the arena, Menma closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. The dark chakra within him stirred, eager and restless.

Alright, he thought, clenching his fists. 'Let's see what I'm working with.'

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The moment Menma began moving, he felt the difference. His body was no longer bound by the limitations he'd known as Peter. Each step carried him forward in a blur, faster than he thought humanly possible. The air burned in his lungs as he zigzagged across the vast chamber, his feet barely touching the ground before propelling him forward again.

He decided to test his agility, imagining an enemy's attack. Closing his eyes, he leaped sideways, twisting his body mid-air to avoid an invisible kunai. His landing was flawless, knees bent, ready to spring back into motion.

For the next half-hour, Menma pushed himself harder. He sprinted toward one of the walls, vaulting off it and flipping mid-air before landing effortlessly. A grin crept across his face. 'Damn,' brushing sweat from his brow. 'This feels good.'

He could sense every detail of the room—the faint cracks in the stone floor, the uneven edges of the walls. His reflexes reacted to imagined dangers with precision, his body moving faster than his thoughts.

But as exhilarating as it was, the speed came with a cost. His muscles began to burn, his breath quickening. 'I need to pace myself,' he reminded himself, planting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 'Can't overdo it.'

"

Once his breathing evened out, Menma moved to the center of the chamber and focused on his chakra. He closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself for the power that lingered like a coiled serpent.

When he extended his hand, the response was immediate. Dark energy surged from his palm, swirling into a black Rasengan that hummed with volatile energy. The orb wasn't smooth like Naruto's version—it was wild, with erratic tendrils of chakra snapping outward like live wires.

Menma studied the unstable mass in his hand, feeling its destructive potential. It radiated a sinister heat, as if it were alive and hungry. He turned toward a distant boulder, narrowing his eyes.

With a sharp thrust of his arm, he launched the Dark Rasengan forward. It spiraled through the air, its chaotic energy warping the light around it. The moment it struck the boulder, there was a deafening explosion. Shards of rock flew in every direction, and a thick cloud of dust billowed outward.

Menma shielded his face with his arm, the force of the blast pushing him back a step. When the dust settled, the boulder was gone, replaced by a jagged crater.

But he wasn't done yet.

"

He tried something new, concentrating on the feeling of chains he'd glimpsed in his memories. To his surprise, dark chakra erupted from his palms, forming long, glowing chains that coiled like serpents. He lashed them at a nearby pillar, shattering it with ease.

"Great," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. 'This might actually work out.'

Menma had glimpsed the chakra chains in his memories, but he had no idea how to summon them. He closed his eyes again, focusing on the feeling—on the memory of Menma Uzumaki's power.

It started as a faint tug in his chest, a sensation that spread down his arms and into his palms. Slowly, he opened his eyes, watching as tendrils of dark chakra began to emerge from his hands.

The chains were unlike anything he'd expected. They weren't metallic but made entirely of black, glowing energy, their surfaces shifting like liquid fire. They hissed as they moved, coiling around him like snakes.

Menma gritted his teeth, struggling to control them. The chains had a mind of their own, lashing out at random. One struck the ground beside him, leaving a deep gouge in the stone. Another lashed out toward a nearby pillar, wrapping around it tightly.

With a sharp pull, Menma yanked the chain back, shattering the pillar into rubble. He stared at the destruction, breathing heavily.

"Okay," he muttered, flexing his fingers. 'That's new.'

He spent the next few minutes experimenting with the chains, trying to extend and retract them at will. They responded more readily the longer he practiced, moving with precision rather than chaos. By the end, he was able to manipulate multiple chains at once, sending them darting across the chamber like whips.

When he finally stopped, the training grounds were a mess. Craters pockmarked the floor, shattered pillars lay in heaps, and scorch marks marred the stone walls. Menma stood in the middle of it all, his chest heaving and his body drenched in sweat.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Not bad," he said, his voice low. "Not bad at all."

But the smile faded quickly as a darker thought crept into his mind. This power wasn't entirely his. It was Menma's. And as much as it felt like a gift, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was also a curse.

The dark chakra within him still pulsed, restless and unyielding. It wanted more. More destruction. More chaos.

Menma took a deep breath, forcing the energy to subside.

With that resolve, he turned toward the exit, his steps steady despite the weight of exhaustion. He wasn't done training—not by a long shot—but for now, he'd earned a break.

What he didn't know was that his small display of power hadn't gone unnoticed. Hidden in the shadows of the lair, a pair of golden eyes watched him with quiet interest. Orochimaru's smile widened.

"Impressive," the snake sannin murmured.

"

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"

After his training, Menma realized he was drenched in sweat and covered in dirt. The grime stuck to his skin like a second layer, and he needed to clean up. It took some wandering, but eventually, he stumbled across a shower area.

The door was unmarked, but he figured it had to be the right place. He pushed it open without a second thought, steam immediately hitting his face as he stepped inside.

'Finally,' he unbuttoning his cloak.

That's when he heard it—a faint splash of water. Turning his head, he froze.

Tayuya stood under one of the showerheads, her back to him. Her hair was loose, wet strands clinging to her skin as water cascaded down her bare shoulders. She was fully undressed, wet, naked body. The curve of her ass and hips—— it was enough to make Menma's brain short-circuit for a second.

She must have sense him, because she turned abruptly, her eyes widening in shock. "What the fuck?!"

The way her breasts had glistened, nipples pebbled in the cool air. Menma blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, instead of panicking or apologizing like a normal person, he tilted his head slightly, giving her a once-over.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, nodding. "Yup. Nice body."

Tayuya's face went red—not from embarrassment, but pure, unfiltered rage.

"You goddamn pervert!" she screeched, reaching for her flute on the bench beside her.

Realizing his mistake (and not wanting to deal with a pissed-off Tayuya armed with a flute), Menma raised his hands in mock surrender and backed out of the room.

"My bad!" he called over his shoulder. "Thought it was the men's shower. Carry on."

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The door slammed shut behind him, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

It took him another few minutes to locate the actual men's shower room. This one was thankfully empty, and he stripped down, stepping under the hot water with a sigh of relief.

"Note to self," he muttered, letting the water wash away the sweat and grime, "pay more attention to signs next time. Or lack of them."

Despite the awkward encounter, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Tayuya's reaction had been priceless, even if it might cost him later.

As he stood under the water, his thoughts wandered back to the training grounds. The power he'd displayed today was staggering—but it wasn't just his own. Menma Uzumaki's instincts and abilities were a part of him now, and they came with their own dangers.

The dark chakra was exhilarating, but it was also unpredictable. He could feel its pull, like a voice whispering at the edges of his mind. It wanted more. More destruction. More chaos.

He clenched his fists, the water streaming down his face. 'I have to control this,' he remind himself again.

For now, he had time. But in this world, time was a luxury that could be taken away at any moment.

With that sobering thought, he turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and headed back to his room. Tayuya was probably still fuming, but he had bigger problems to worry about.