Menma opened the sealing scroll.
Inside, neatly arranged, lay cold, black ninja tools.
There weren't many, but all the necessary types were included: kunai, shuriken, smoke bombs, explosive tags, and a few training senbon. When Menma saw them, a genuine smile crossed his face.
The price of ninja tools was high. Even if Menma had money, no shop in the village would sell to him. To the civilians of Konoha, he wasn't just an orphan—he was the "monster," the vessel of the Nine-Tails.
If he so much as stepped into a weapon shop, the best he could expect was to be thrown out. Expecting to actually buy something? That was a joke.
In the original timeline, Naruto's treatment by the villagers only changed after he graduated. This was because in the shinobi world, status was defined by strength. Ordinary people knew better than to openly disrespect a ninja—shinobi were protectors, killers, and weapons of war. The difference in standing was like heaven and earth.
Naruto's reputation shifted the moment he earned his headband. Until then, he was scorned.
In this life, Menma was still only an Academy student. His status was nothing. That would have to wait until later.
So when Iruka brought him a fresh batch of weapons, Menma couldn't hide his happiness.
"Thank you, Iruka-sensei! I'll definitely study and practice even harder."
He bowed slightly, gratitude plain on his face.
"Haha, it's good that you're motivated." Iruka chuckled, ruffling Menma's hair. "But remember, you're still young. Too much training can hurt your growth. Balance work and rest, understand, Menma?"
"Yes, Iruka-sensei."
Iruka's expression softened, though his feelings were complicated.
At first, he had been like most villagers in Konoha. When faced with Menma—the vessel of the Nine-Tails—he felt unease, even resentment. But Iruka wasn't just a villager. He was a shinobi, and one trusted by the Third Hokage himself. He understood what a Jinchūriki truly was.
The Nine-Tails was the Nine-Tails. Menma was Menma. Intellectually, Iruka knew this truth. Emotionally, it had taken longer.
But after nearly two years of teaching him, Iruka's perspective had changed.
Menma wasn't a monster. He was a child. A hardworking, determined child—and a lonely one.
Iruka's own parents had been killed in the Nine-Tails' attack years ago, leaving him an orphan. His pain was great, but he had still known the warmth of a family. Menma hadn't even had that much.
According to the vague explanation Hiruzen had given him, Menma had been found outside the village as an infant and entrusted to Konoha's care. Because of his unique lineage, he was chosen as the host of the Nine-Tails.
But was any of that Menma's fault?
No.
If anything, he was a hero for bearing such a burden.
Unconsciously, Iruka had begun to view him as family—as a younger brother who needed protection and guidance.
"It's almost New Year again," Iruka continued with a smile. "You're about to enter your third year at the Academy. From now on, your training will shift. There'll be less theory and much more practice. You've already shown talent—you mastered the Three Basic Techniques earlier than anyone—but they still aren't perfectly stable, are they? Keep practicing. Stay humble. You know there are other talented students in your class. I want you to keep this momentum all the way to graduation in four years."
Iruka's tone grew firm, his teacher's seriousness shining through.
Now was not the war era. The Academy no longer rushed its students into battle the way it had during the Great Ninja Wars, when children were trained quickly and thrown onto the battlefield as cannon fodder. Times had changed.
Konoha could now afford to cultivate its future slowly and steadily.
The first two years of Academy life were focused on theory—reading, history, strategy, and chakra basics. The third year marked the transition to true shinobi training: the Three Basic Techniques, taijutsu, simple genjutsu, and the fundamentals of teamwork.
It was the beginning of real growth.
"Understood, Iruka-sensei! Don't worry—I'll work hard," Menma replied, puffing out his chest.
Iruka smiled. "Good. I believe in you. I have other duties to take care of, so I'll leave you to it. But it's getting late. Wrap up your training and head home soon, Menma."
"Yes, sensei."
The New Year approached. Another year had passed.
The 56th year of Konoha had come.
Menma officially entered his third year at the Academy.
And as the school had announced, this year's curriculum was filled with practical training: physical conditioning, weapons throwing, trap setting, scouting, sparring, and deeper practice of the Three Basic Techniques. Theory was reduced, but still present.
With this, the real differences between students began to emerge.
Truthfully, the gap had started in the second year, when chakra training grew more demanding. But now, with combat introduced, the distinction was undeniable.
Menma, of course, stood at the top of the class.
Having mastered the Three Basic Techniques early, his overall scores outshone the others.
Even Uchiha Sasuke—who in the original timeline had always been first—was forced to stand in second place.
Haruno Sakura, brilliant in theory but lacking in practical skill, could only remain at a lower-middle rank.
At the Academy, performance was measured primarily by combat ability. Theory was important, but a shinobi who couldn't fight was useless. Even those who failed written tests consistently could graduate if they passed the practical exams.
That was the standard of the ninja world.
And Menma intended not only to meet it, but to surpass it.