Mizuki knew Menma well. He had watched him train and struggle for six years at the academy, always keeping him under observation. That brief exchange just now—Menma evading the sudden kunai strike—was enough to make Mizuki realize something unsettling. Even without a proper stance, Menma had dodged it with instinct alone.
This brat's strength… it's not something you can compare to an ordinary academy rookie.
To be safe, Mizuki decided he would first break Menma's spirit. If Menma faltered mentally, if his will collapsed, then he wouldn't even be able to muster half of his strength. After that, it would be easy—harvest his life and seize the scroll.
Mizuki was no genius, but he wasn't entirely without cunning either. He had enough sense to use psychological warfare. After all, if he were truly brainless, he never would have made chūnin, nor secured a teaching position at the Academy.
Still, arrogance clouded his judgment. Subconsciously, he underestimated Menma. To Mizuki, he was just a twelve-year-old boy—nothing more. That Mizuki even bothered with mind games at all was already, in his mind, a sign of caution.
Menma, of course, knew exactly what Mizuki was attempting. His taunts about the "demon fox" identity had no effect on him. Inside, Menma was calm.
"So, go to hell, demon fox brat!" Mizuki snarled, his voice sharp with hatred.
Menma's trembling figure and widened eyes made Mizuki smirk with disdain.
Good. He looks shaken.
Boom!
With a burst of chakra, Mizuki launched forward, the kunai in his hand gleaming in the moonlight. The distance between them closed in a heartbeat. He knew time was running short—if other Konoha shinobi discovered him here, everything would collapse. Menma had to die now.
The kunai's tip drew a deadly line through the air, aimed straight at Menma's throat.
"Keng!"
Metal rang out. Sparks flashed. Another kunai appeared, blocking Mizuki's strike with sharp precision.
Mizuki's eyes went wide, stunned at the resistance. In their reflection, he saw Menma's furious glare.
"Demon fox? A traitor to the village? No!" Menma roared, voice cracking with anger that echoed through the trees. "I don't believe it! The one who betrayed the village is you, Mizuki-sensei! The one who's going to die… is YOU!"
His voice shook with power, veins bulging on his forehead. The rage in his pupils wasn't feigned—it was sharp, bloodthirsty.
"What—!"
Mizuki's words caught in his throat.
A violent shock rippled down his arm.
Boom!
The force of Menma's swing crashed into his weapon, sparks flying as steel scraped against steel. Mizuki's kunai was blown wide, his defense ripped apart.
His power…! Mizuki's face twisted in shock. He could barely hold his stance.
"Keng!"
The kunai was knocked aside completely.
"Zzzzzzz!" Sparks scattered again as Menma pressed forward, his eyes cold, merciless.
Mizuki staggered back, his guard broken, his chest exposed.
Menma's lips curled into a sharp line. He stepped in, twisting his body with fluid precision.
Too fast!
"Not good!" Mizuki's pupils dilated. He raised his arms desperately, trying to block, trying to create space.
Stupid.
At such close range, Menma could practically hear Mizuki's heartbeat. Did Mizuki really think he could outmaneuver him? This wasn't even the same level of combat.
Menma's movements shifted instantly. He pulled back and twisted, changing his strike mid-motion.
"Swish!"
The kunai slashed low, cutting against Mizuki's exposed arm.
Puchi!
The steel dug into flesh. Blood sprayed into the night air.
"Ahhh!" Mizuki screamed in agony, his face contorting. His arm throbbed, crimson spilling down.
He was a chūnin, yes—but he had long abandoned frontline combat. Six, nearly seven years spent in the safe walls of the academy had dulled his body. He wasn't the hardened warrior he once might have been.
Pain consumed him, but what terrified him more was Menma's strength.
This… this is just a kid who just graduated?! Impossible!
Fear clawed into Mizuki's chest. His earlier bravado collapsed. No longer was he thinking about victory, or the scroll. He thought only of survival.
I have to get out of here. I can't die here. Not like this. I still have plans… ambitions…!
Madness flickered in Mizuki's bloodshot eyes as he lunged forward recklessly, trying to drive Menma back, to create space.
Menma's sharp grin was his only reply.
"Shua!"
He twisted, his right leg snapping out in a brutal kick.
Bang!
His heel smashed into Mizuki's chest with a resounding crack.
"Guahhh!"
Blood erupted from Mizuki's mouth as his chest caved inward under the blow. His body was flung back like a broken doll, crashing into the dirt.
Bang!
Dust exploded around him. His limbs twitched violently as he struggled to breathe.
But Menma didn't hesitate.
"Swoosh!"
In a flash, he was above Mizuki, his shadow casting over the fallen chūnin.
Mizuki's blurry vision caught the boy's fierce eyes, his feral expression.
"You—!" His voice broke in terror.
Menma's elbow came crashing down like a hammer.
Bang!
It slammed into Mizuki's abdomen with bone-cracking force.
"Ughhh!"
Mizuki coughed blood violently, his abdomen deforming under the strike. The unbearable pain surged through his nerves like fire, overwhelming his body. His scream choked off as his eyes rolled back.
Thud.
Unconsciousness claimed him. Mizuki's head lolled to the side, his body slack.
The fight was over.
Menma stood above him, his breath steady, his expression calm. There was no thrill of victory in his heart. No satisfaction.
After all, Mizuki was only a chūnin—and a rusty one at that. His strength was nothing impressive. Beating someone like him gave no sense of accomplishment.
In the original timeline, even Naruto—who had been far weaker at this stage—had been able to defeat him.
Menma smirked coldly to himself. If I couldn't handle Mizuki with ease, I might as well buy some tofu and smash my head against it.