Two years had slipped through my fingers like sand, each grain a moment spent honing my body, sharpening my mind, preparing for the day I'd step into the world I'd sworn to reshape. I was seven now, taller, leaner, my hair a wild cascade of blonde and red that spilled past my shoulders—a banner of my Uzumaki heritage and the path I'd carved for myself. The Ninja Academy stood before me, its wooden gates creaking open, a threshold to a future I both feared and craved. Beside me, Sasuke walked, his steps steady, his dark eyes fixed ahead. We were brothers, not by blood but by choice, bound by the Uchiha name and the shadows we carried.
"You nervous?" Sasuke asked, his voice a quiet blade cutting through the morning air.
I smirked, masking the storm in my chest. "No. You?"
He snorted, a rare crack in his cool facade. "Please. I was born for this."
I didn't argue. He was right, in his way. Sasuke Uchiha, prodigy of the clan, destined for greatness—or ruin, if I failed. But I wouldn't fail. Not this time.
The courtyard hummed with life, a chaos of children and parents, laughter and farewells. My gaze snagged on a flash of orange—Naruto, standing alone, his grin a defiant sun in the gray dawn. My brother, though he didn't know it. The ache in my chest sharpened, a blade of guilt and hope. Two years had stretched between us, a gulf of silence, but today, I'd see him again. Today, I'd start closing that distance.
We shuffled into the classroom, the air thick with the scent of wood and sweat, the buzz of voices a living thing. Iruka-sensei stood at the front, his scar a jagged line across his nose, his smile warm but edged with authority. "Good morning, everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Welcome to the Ninja Academy. Today's your first step toward becoming shinobi. Let's start simple—introductions. When I call your name, stand up and tell us who you are."
He held a scroll, names scrawled in neat rows, and began. My pulse quickened, a drumbeat in my ears. I'd prepared for this, rehearsed the moment in my head a thousand times, but the weight of it pressed down all the same.
"Uzumaki Naruto," Iruka called, his tone neutral.
Naruto shot to his feet, chair scraping, his energy a wildfire. "I'm Naruto Uzumaki, and I'm gonna be the greatest Hokage this village has ever seen! Believe it!" His voice boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows, his fists clenched, his blue eyes blazing with a dream no one could snuff out.
Laughter rippled through the room, some mocking, some nervous. Shikamaru muttered, "Troublesome," under his breath. Kiba grinned, fangs flashing. Hinata ducked her head, her fingers twisting. I watched, my lips twitching into a smile I couldn't stop. That was Naruto—brash, unapologetic, a force of nature. He didn't remember me, not the boy I'd been, not the brother torn from him. But I remembered. Every shout, every stubborn vow. It was enough, for now.
Iruka nodded, unfazed. "Thank you, Naruto. Sit down. Next—Uchiha Sasuke."
Sasuke rose, smooth as a shadow, his posture perfect, his face a mask of calm. "I'm Sasuke Uchiha," he said, his voice low, steady. "My goal is to surpass my brother and restore my clan's honor."
The room shifted, a collective intake of breath. Eyes widened, heads turned. Then the girls erupted. "He's so cool!" Ino squealed, her blonde ponytail bouncing. "And handsome!" Sakura chimed, her green eyes starry. A chorus of giggles and whispers followed, a wave of admiration crashing over Sasuke. He sat, unfazed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Typical.
My turn came too soon. "Uchiha Menma," Iruka said, his gaze lingering on me, curiosity flickering in his brown eyes.
I stood, slow, deliberate, my hair swaying like a curtain of fire and gold. The silence was instant, heavy, every stare a weight. I felt it—their shock, their intrigue, their judgment. "I'm Menma Uchiha," I said, my voice clear, carrying. "Sasuke's brother. I'm here to grow strong enough to protect the people I care about."
The room exploded.
"WHAT?!" Ino shrieked, hands slamming on her desk, eyes wide as saucers. "Another Uchiha?! And look at that hair!"
Sakura clutched her chest, practically vibrating. "Blonde and red—it's gorgeous! And so long! He's perfect!"
"He's Sasuke's brother?!" another girl—some brunette I didn't know—gasped, her voice pitching high. "Two Uchihas in one class? I'm gonna faint!"
The boys weren't much better. Kiba whistled, low and impressed. "That's some entrance, man." Choji paused mid-chip, crumbs on his chin, staring. Shikamaru lifted his head, just enough to mutter, "What a drag. More Uchihas." Even Naruto twisted in his seat, squinting at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve.
I sat, my face a mask, but inside, my heart raced. I'd expected attention—my hair alone guaranteed it—but this was chaos. Sasuke leaned over, his whisper sharp. "You stole my thunder, idiot."
I shot him a grin, small and sharp. "Not my fault they're loud."
Iruka clapped his hands, sharp, cutting through the din. "Settle down! We've got more introductions to go!"
The rest unfolded in a blur. Shikamaru grumbled about effort, Choji mumbled through a mouthful of food, Kiba bragged about Akamaru, Hinata whispered her name and sat fast, her face red. Each voice added to the tapestry of our class, but my mind drifted, snagged on Naruto, on Sasuke, on the path ahead.
He didn't recognize me. Naruto, I mean. I'd known he wouldn't—too young when we'd parted, too much time between—but it stung all the same. I watched him, his doodles of the Hokage hat scribbled across his desk, his laughter loud and free. Did he feel it, that thread tying us? Or was it just me, haunted by a past he'd never know?
The day stretched on, a marathon of lessons and drills. Iruka lectured—taijutsu basics, kunai handling, the history of the village. I listened, half-present, my mind a split screen: the classroom, and the future I'd seen in blood and ash. I knew this stuff—Itachi's training, my old life's echoes—but I played along, matched Sasuke's pace, kept my edge hidden. No point in showing too much, not yet.
Lunch came, a reprieve under a sprawling oak. Sasuke and I sat, bentos open, the scent of rice and fish mingling with the breeze. Naruto was yards off, alone, slurping ramen like it was his last meal. I stared, chopsticks still, my thoughts a tangle.
"Go talk to him," Sasuke said, not looking up, his tone flat.
I blinked, caught. "What?"
He speared a piece of tamagoyaki, precise. "Naruto. You've been staring all day. It's pathetic."
I scowled, but he wasn't wrong. "It's not that simple."
"Nothing with you is," he said, a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe concern—in his voice. "But he's your brother, right? Blood or not, you're tied to him. So go."
I exhaled, sharp, and set my chopsticks down. "Fine."
Naruto looked up as I approached, noodles dangling from his mouth. "Huh? What's up, fancy hair?"
I laughed, short and real, the nickname jarring me loose. "Hey. I'm Menma. Just wanted to say hi."
He chewed, swallowed, then squinted. "Yeah, I heard. Sasuke's brother, right? That hair's wild—blonde and red? How's that even happen?"
"Long story," I said, sitting cross-legged beside him. "You're Naruto, the Hokage guy."
His grin split wide, bright as daylight. "That's me! And I'm serious—I'm gonna be Hokage, no matter what!"
"I believe you," I said, and I did. His fire, his will—it was unbreakable. "You've got the guts for it."
He blinked, then laughed, loud and raw. "You're weird, you know? Most people just tell me to shut up."
My chest tightened, a fist around my ribs. "I'm not most people."
"Guess not!" he said, still grinning. "Hey, we should spar sometime. I'd kick your butt, fancy hair or not!"
"Deal," I said, warmth seeping through me. "Anytime, Naruto."
I walked back to Sasuke, lighter, like a knot had loosened. It wasn't much—a spark, a thread—but it was something. A beginning.
The afternoon blurred—shuriken practice, laps, Iruka's steady voice drilling rules into us. I moved through it, competent but careful, letting Sasuke shine, keeping my own light dim. Eyes followed me still—girls whispering, boys sizing me up—but I ignored them, focused on the rhythm, the routine.
Dismissal came with the sun low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. Sasuke and I walked home, the Uchiha compound silent, its walls a fortress of memory and expectation.
"You survived," Sasuke said, breaking the quiet, his tone dry.
"So did you," I shot back, smirking. "Barely, with all those girls."
He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. "They'll get over it. You, though—you're stuck with that hair."
"Jealous?" I teased, flicking a strand over my shoulder.
"Hardly," he said, but there was no bite in it. We'd grown tight these two years, a bond forged in training and trust. He didn't know my secrets, didn't see the ghosts in my shadow, but he stood with me. That was enough.
Night fell, and I lay in bed, the ceiling a blank slate for my racing mind. The academy was a start, a stage. Ahead loomed tests, rivalries, the dark tide of a future I couldn't escape. But I was ready—or I'd make myself ready