Naruto: The Avenger of the Uzumaki clan

---

To be honest, Menma had never intended to resent Minato. In his previous life, he'd seen debates among Naruto fans arguing that Minato didn't need to die—that his decision to seal the Nine-Tails within his newborn son was an act of love, but perhaps not entirely necessary.

Sure, Minato was a brilliant Hokage and an unwavering husband. But as a father? Many claimed he fell short.

Menma had never seen it that way.

From his perspective, Minato's death wasn't some heroic, romanticized choice. It was an inevitability. The burden of duty left no room for personal desires or second chances. Minato didn't choose death—death was simply the outcome of the path he was forced to walk.

In the original timeline, Naruto bore no blame for his parents' choices. To Minato and Kushina, he was a hero—a vessel for the Nine-Tails that saved the village. They had faith that the Third Hokage, Kakashi, and especially Jiraiya would guide and protect their son in their absence.

After all, Minato named Naruto after the protagonist of Jiraiya's novel—a symbol of his unwavering trust in his mentor. But what Minato and Kushina could never have foreseen was how the Third Hokage's "care" would fail their son—or how Kakashi, crippled by his own grief, would remain indifferent.

Jiraiya, too, chose to leave, chasing after shadows rather than fulfilling the trust his beloved student had placed in him.

Menma understood this context. Rationally, he knew none of these failures were truly his parents' fault. But even then, the resentment lingered.

After all, resentment isn't always rational. For a child abandoned by the very system meant to protect them, it's almost instinctual.

Eventually, Menma came to terms with Minato and Kushina's roles in his life. He wasn't some vengeful spirit possessing another's body or a traveler in a foreign shell. He was their son—their blood. And though the emotional connection remained shallow, he acknowledged their significance.

That didn't mean the anger didn't surface from time to time.

"Why do I keep making these same stupid mistakes?" Menma thought bitterly. He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "What's the point of fighting this?"

Before Minato could respond to his earlier outburst, Menma had already collected himself.

"Menma." Minato's voice was soft, carrying both regret and resolve. His azure eyes locked onto his son's, unwavering. "You have every right to feel angry. I understand your resentment. I miscalculated back then—I truly believed the Third Hokage would care for you. I thought the things I left behind would help you become a hero. But I see now... I was wrong. My decisions backfired because of my own irresponsibility.

"I won't say whether leaving Konoha was right or wrong. That's not my place anymore. You're your own person, Menma. I have no right to force anything on you or demand forgiveness. All I ask is this: don't let hatred consume you. I don't want to see my son walk the same path as others who have fallen into darkness.

"There are innocent people, Menma. Innocent lives caught in the crossfire."

Minato's words weren't a lecture—they were a plea. A father, not a Hokage, speaking to his son.

Menma listened in silence, letting the weight of his father's words settle over him. He understood Minato's message, even if his heart refused to fully let go of the bitterness.

Konoha had never shown him kindness. How could anyone call their treatment of him "nurturing"? Menma wasn't just another orphan the village had taken in. He was the child of the Fourth Hokage—their living weapon, the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki. From that standpoint, Konoha had a duty to care for him.

This wasn't charity—it was obligation. And they had failed.

Even so, Minato didn't chastise him for leaving the village. As a father, Minato respected Menma's choices. But that respect came with a warning—a hope. Minato didn't want his son to lose himself in the flames of vengeance, to become a shadow of who he could be.

As Hokage, Minato had a responsibility to the village. But as a father, his only wish was for his son to live on his own terms—not consumed by anger, not lost to the darkness.

Menma knew this. He understood it deeply.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to reflect on the man before him—not just as the Fourth Hokage, but as his father.

"Don't worry," Menma replied calmly, his tone steady but laced with cold resolve. "I'm not interested in mindlessly slaughtering those people. They're fools—ignorant sheep led by fear and manipulation. As long as they don't stand in my way, I won't waste my time on them. My revenge is reserved for specific individuals."

Minato exhaled quietly, relief evident in his posture.

Were the people of Konoha detestable?

Of course, they were.

They reveled in the peace brought by Minato's sacrifice, yet treated Menma as a pariah—a monster in human form. Their actions were cruel and unjust. But Menma wasn't blind to their pain. These were people who had lost loved ones, seen their homes destroyed in the Nine-Tails' attack. They were grieving, searching for someone to blame.

The higher-ups in the village had capitalized on that grief. Hiruzen Sarutobi had concealed the truth, while Danzo Shimura had fanned the flames of hatred, spreading rumors to turn the villagers against Menma.

Menma understood this. He wasn't naïve.

This was human nature.

There was no singular villain to blame—no justice to be found in pointless slaughter.

And truthfully, the people of Konoha had never physically harmed him. Their insults, glares, and avoidance stung, but they weren't injuries worth avenging. Menma was precise in his hatred. He wouldn't kill someone over petty insults or meaningless violence. It wasn't who he was. His targets were those who had truly wronged him.

Even now, Menma had boundaries. Some would call him calculating or pretentious, but he didn't care. These were his choices, his principles.

Of course, if someone was foolish enough to raise the banner of Konoha and stand in his way, Menma wouldn't hesitate. If they sought a noble death, he would grant their wish.

His calm demeanor as he said this unnerved Minato, but the former Hokage nodded. "In that case… that's good. That's good."

Minato didn't know what expression he should wear. A part of him was grateful his son wasn't consumed by blind rage. But the other part—the father—hoped for something better. He wished for a world where Menma could heal, even if that hope seemed impossible now.

Menma, watching his father's reaction, felt unsettled. He had expected Minato to try to dissuade him, to plead for him to return to Konoha, perhaps even to forgive those who had wronged him. But instead, Minato's calm acceptance was unexpected.

For a moment, Menma overthought his father's reaction. Did Minato love Konoha? Undoubtedly. Even someone as corrupted as Danzo loved the village, though in his own twisted way. Minato, however, had always put Konoha's well-being above his own.

But now, he wasn't addressing Konoha's needs. He was speaking as a father, addressing his son.

Minato bore guilt for the village's failure. How could he, even as a former Hokage, demand that Menma bend to Konoha's will?

"As for your brother, Naruto…" Minato's voice softened, and hope flickered in his eyes. "Neither your mother nor I would want to see the two of you as enemies. I hope you can—"

"That doesn't depend on me alone, Father," Menma interrupted, his tone firm but calm. "It depends on Naruto, too. All I can promise is that I'll try not to kill him."

Naruto.

The one person Menma least wanted to face.

At the Valley of the End, Menma had been ready to finish everything. But Naruto had stopped him, not with force, but with an unyielding will that reminded him of someone familiar.

He hadn't regretted walking away that day. It wasn't because of lingering affection for Naruto—it was out of respect for Minato and Kushina. For their sake, he had stayed his hand.

Hearing Menma's response, Minato's shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving his body. The thought of his sons killing each other had been his greatest fear. Whether it was Naruto slaying Menma or Menma striking down Naruto, it was a nightmare he couldn't bear.

"Thank you, Menma," Minato said sincerely.

He stepped closer, his gaze softening as he looked at his son—so much like himself, yet with Kushina's vibrant red hair and fiery spirit. Without thinking, Minato reached out and placed his hand gently on Menma's head.

Menma instinctively stiffened, the gesture unfamiliar and strange. But he didn't pull away, allowing the moment to pass. Minato's touch was light, filled with regret and sorrow.

In this life, Naruto had become a hero—a symbol of hope who forgave the village's wrongdoings. But Menma had faced the harsh reality of betrayal. Minato couldn't fault him for feeling the way he did. All Minato could do now was hope.

"By the way, Menma," Minato said, his voice quieter, as if the weight of their conversation had drained him. "The masked man from that night—the one with the Mangekyō Sharingan. He controlled the Nine-Tails and used space-time ninjutsu to attack Konoha. I always suspected… it might be Uchiha Madara."

Menma's expression didn't change. He interrupted calmly, "Obito. The man who attacked Konoha the night I was born is Uchiha Obito, your former student."

Minato froze, his eyes widening in shock. "What? Obito?"

"Yes," Menma said with certainty. "The one behind it all is Uchiha Obito. He works with an organization called Akatsuki, led by a man with the Rinnegan—a former disciple of Jiraiya-sensei from Amegakure. Their goal is to collect all the tailed beasts."

Minato stared at Menma, struggling to process the revelation. The certainty in Menma's tone left no room for doubt, even though the truth seemed too surreal.

The seconds stretched on as Minato remained silent, before finally giving a faint, bitter smile. He had hoped his child's life would be simpler, but it was clear Menma carried the weight of a world far more complicated than Minato could have imagined.

---