Time passed quickly.
In the blink of an eye, an entire month slipped away.
During this month, Konohagakure became livelier than ever, its streets overflowing with nobles, officials, and dignitaries from the Land of Fire, the Land of Wind, and several smaller nations. With the upcoming Chūnin Exams approaching, every merchant in the village seemed unable to hide their smiles. These wealthy visitors were walking treasure chests—spending lavishly and without hesitation.
Wherever Menma walked, he could see the joy and excitement on the faces of ordinary villagers.
No one sensed the coming disaster.
Of course, how could they? For those at the bottom of society, focusing only on the present was the most realistic way to live. They didn't possess the freedom or power to influence their own destinies.
Some people swim with the current and reach the shore.
Others drown in the abyss.
This was the fate of ordinary people.
But Menma refused to live that kind of life.
His fate—his future—would be carved out by his own hands. He refused to be trapped by helplessness ever again.
Even if stepping forward meant plunging into an abyss, he would leap without hesitation. That was his choice.
Menma walked toward the easternmost streets of the village.
Stepping down to the right, he blended into the crowd.
As he moved through the people, someone brushed lightly past his shoulder.
Menma slowed for a moment but continued walking.
When he turned at the next corner, he made his way straight home.
Night eventually settled over Konohagakure, cloaking the village in shadows.
Menma pushed open his door gently.
A wave of chakra perception spread out from him—wide, precise, controlled.
Only after confirming no shinobi were nearby did he move.
"Swoosh."
With a single tap of his toes, Menma shot into the northwest, his figure merging seamlessly with the darkness.
He avoided every patrol, every civilian, every presence along the way.
Finally, he reached a remote, abandoned residential area at the edge of the village.
Two figures were already waiting.
One was Kabuto Yakushi, his usual smile calm and unreadable.
The other was Maki, the Fourth Kazekage's most trusted advisor—currently the strongest jōnin in Sunagakure.
The moment Maki sensed Menma's chakra approaching, he grew tense.
He cast a suspicious glance at Kabuto.
"Kabuto Yakushi… what is this supposed to mean?" Maki demanded sharply.
As expected, there was no trust between parties who were only allies for convenience. Even Konoha and Suna—nations that had cooperated for years—never truly trusted one another. At the level of entire villages, trust was a luxury.
Kabuto simply kept smiling.
"Haha, calm down, Maki-san. This is the other ally I mentioned before—the one who will serve as our most crucial asset in the plan."
Before Maki could respond, Menma stepped into view.
His appearance—and his Konoha forehead protector—made Maki freeze mid-breath.
"A crucial asset? Don't joke with me," Maki scoffed. "He's a Konoha brat. Ten years old at most—"
Kabuto tilted his head.
"Hehe… but isn't Gaara-kun also ten years old?"
Maki opened his mouth to retort, but halfway through, something clicked in his mind.
He swung his gaze back to Menma—eyes widening as a terrifying possibility formed.
"You don't mean…!"
"That's exactly what he means," Kabuto said.
"Impossible! This child can't be—"
BOOM.
Menma released a surge of chakra.
Dense. Violent. Red.
Contained tightly within a controlled boundary—yet its presence was overwhelming.
Menma's pupils sharpened into the distinct fox-like slits of a Jinchūriki.
Maki's voice died as if someone had crushed his windpipe.
Menma stared coldly at the two.
"Enough pointless talking. We're running out of time. Three days remain until the operation. I've said this before, Kabuto—if your plan doesn't satisfy me, I will not act. Don't forget that."
Today was the day they would finalize everything.
A month was far too long; unexpected variables could appear at any moment.
And the biggest unexpected variable was Jiraiya's sudden return to the village.
Originally, Menma planned to avoid deep involvement.
But later he realized—knowing more about Orochimaru's and Sunagakure's true plan would give him more freedom in deciding his next move.
There would always be risks.
No matter what Menma chose, nothing came without consequences.
Maki stared at Menma, his mind blank.
The Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki.
Standing before him.
Cooperating with them.
Willing to join a plan that targeted Konoha itself.
It defied all logic.
The pressure Menma released—it made Maki's very soul tremble.
Konoha never deployed the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki in war, so few had ever witnessed this chakra firsthand. But the information they gathered, combined with what he felt now…
There was no way to deny it.
The red-haired boy in front of him was indeed the Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki of Konoha.
Yet the situation was unbelievable.
The Nine-Tails Jinchūriki…
Siding with them?
Joining Orochimaru's operation?
This wasn't reasonable.
This wasn't logical.
It was madness.
It was impossible—and yet happening right before his eyes.