"Bang!"
Sasuke's body struck the ground with a heavy thud.
The impact drove the air from his lungs, and the pain spreading across his back forced a suppressed grunt from his throat.
Before he could fully recover
Menma was already there.
In an instant, his figure closed the distance, appearing directly before Sasuke. Standing over him with a composed, almost indifferent expression, Menma held a kunai in his right hand. The blade caught the light, reflecting a cold, lethal glint.
For a brief moment, Sasuke's breathing stalled.
Then
"Buzz."
At his own command, the power of the Curse Mark receded.
The dark patterns faded from his body, and he returned to his normal state.
Seeing this, Menma understood immediately.
Sasuke had conceded.
With a slight motion of his fingers, Menma withdrew the kunai and stepped back.
Sasuke slowly pushed himself up from the ground.
Compared to Menma who bore little more than dust and minor damage to his clothing Sasuke's condition was visibly worse. His chest and thigh were marked by shallow cuts from the kunai, while the earlier impacts had left his abdomen and back aching with dull, persistent pain.
But the most serious injury was his right hand.
Even though his Chidori had offset much of the force from Menma's Rasengan, the residual damage remained significant. The skin of his palm was torn and bloodied, trembling faintly as the nerves reacted to the lingering shock.
Even so
For a shinobi, this level of injury was far from crippling.
At most, it was an inconvenience.
Menma observed him calmly before speaking.
"You're still not fully proficient with the Curse Mark. By now, you should have grasped its nature. Power like that isn't meant to be used recklessly. What matters is strengthening your body so it can properly withstand and adapt to it. If your foundation isn't solid, that power will only become a burden."
His tone was even, analytical devoid of mockery or empty consolation.
"And your use of the Sharingan," he continued, his gaze steady. "It shouldn't be limited to observation and copying. You need to deepen your control over it. As for ninjutsu… you should expand your arsenal. Raw destructive power isn't always necessary control, suppression, and tactical application are just as important. In that regard, Orochimaru has more than enough resources for you to make use of."
Menma understood Sasuke well.
Empty encouragement or false humility would only insult him.
Failure was failure.
And Sasuke would never accept being comforted for it.
"…I understand."
After a brief silence, Sasuke Uchiha nodded.
This outcome had not truly surprised him.
After witnessing Menma's strength at the Valley of the End, Sasuke was not arrogant enough to believe he could win not yet.
What he had wanted was clarity.
To measure the distance between them.
And now
That distance had been laid bare.
Too wide.
Menma had suppressed him without even drawing upon the power of the Nine-Tails.
That fact alone gnawed at him.
Yet despite the frustration, Sasuke did not lash out.
Because he could see something beyond the defeat
A path forward.
A way to close that gap.
Menma studied his expression, then gave a faint, almost knowing smile.
"Impatience isn't a bad thing," he said. "But you need to understand the difference between us. I'm the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails, and I come from the Uzumaki clan. Our vitality, our physical strength that's where our natural advantage lies. It's something that can be developed directly."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"But you're different. Your strength lies elsewhere. You don't need to compete with others using their strengths. Focus on what makes you powerful."
"…The Uzumaki clan."
Sasuke's eyes flickered slightly.
Whether he fully accepted Menma's words or not, the tension in his expression eased.
Menma, however, felt a faint sense of irony.
Sasuke's nature had always been like this driven, reactive, shaped by external forces.
Even in the broader narrative of the shinobi world, many of Sasuke's choices had been guided by others first by Itachi Uchiha, and later by ideals that were not entirely his own.
Compared to someone like Naruto, whose convictions were entirely self-forged, Sasuke's path had always been… complicated.
Menma exhaled softly.
"Your focus should be on developing your eyes," he said.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"The Sharingan you're using now isn't your limit. It's not even close to the true potential of your clan. Right now, you're only scratching the surface."
Compared to the power of the Mangekyō
The current three-tomoe Sharingan was merely a foundation.
Once awakened, the Mangekyō Sharingan would bring about a qualitative transformation granting access to abilities capable of rivaling even the tailed beasts.
If Sasuke reached that level
His growth would accelerate exponentially.
"…Mangekyō Sharingan."
Sasuke repeated the words quietly.
In that moment, an image surfaced in his mind.
A pair of crimson eyes
Twisted, profound, and overwhelming.
The eyes of his brother.
Itachi Uchiha.
The memory struck like a blade.
For a fleeting instant, raw hatred flickered across Sasuke's face.
Then
It vanished.
Suppressed, buried beneath the discipline he had painstakingly built.
His control had improved.
But the fire within him had not diminished.
It had only grown sharper.
More focused.
"So," Sasuke said after a moment, his voice low but steady, "is that why you took Kakashi's Sharingan… and gathered research materials on it from Orochimaru?"
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