Menma slowly opened his eyes. With a tired sigh, he turned his stiff, dried body to the side, allowing the blood to circulate and ease some of the fatigue weighing him down. Only the gods could know how deeply he craved sleep.
Yesterday, despite feeling exhausted and sensing the coming of night, he hadn't allowed himself to rest. Instead, he had pushed through, determined to shift his working rhythm from day to night. And, he had to admit, it was a complete success.
Studying nonstop for nearly sixteen hours had drained him to the bone. And all that effort? Just to fully grasp ten hand signs and six written formulas. That alone spoke volumes about the sheer difficulty of sealing jutsu.
In the next session, he'd have to revise them all, then move on to learning their interlinked bonds and chakra structures. The thought alone made his head ache.
Not wanting to overthink it further, Menma slowly glanced around.
Sarah was awake, seated quietly in the corner, her arms around her knees. She was staring at him in a trance, entirely unresponsive to his gaze.
Snow, on the other hand, was playfully pawing at the cage lock, her claws trying to worm into the narrow keyhole. She looked like a tiny burglar attempting to crack open a stubborn safe. Her narrowed eyes and intense focus made her look both adorable and determined and she was so engrossed in her efforts that she didn't even notice Menma smiling happily at her.
Menma shifted his gaze between the two white-haired girls, comparing their cuteness. Their similar hair color amused him.
If only I had a camera, he thought. I'd take a picture and frame it.
He began to fantasize for a moment:
"Hmm... what about a pink hair clip with a red ribbon around their necks? Or maybe a ruby necklace for Sarah... and a red collar with a jade charm for Snow? That'd make them both look so sweet. Ugh, which one should I choose?"
He was still lost in thought when the sudden creak of the trapdoor above broke the peaceful moment shared by the trio.
Snow instantly reacted, vanishing into the hay in one smooth leap, as though she had never been there. Sarah hugged her knees tighter, and Menma instinctively turned to stare up at the metal bars above him.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Scratch.
The sound of footsteps descended the stairs, drawing closer through the narrow hallway. Then, silence. Just outside the entrance to their cage.
Menma slowly turned his head and saw a pair of polished black boots. Murakami.
The captain had returned, keeping his promise to deliver the boy's poisoned meal personally. He held a tray of food and water, along with a small bottle of something new, a more potent toxin than the one used yesterday.
Leaning down, Murakami peered into the cage.
Menma lay where he had been before, silent and calm. Sarah remained in the corner, knees hugged to her chest. Aside from the clean bucket placed near the gate for waste, the cage was as barren as ever. Just flat hay.
Murakami didn't bother to scan further. He had already inspected the cage last night, after the punished lookout and unlucky Danroy had cleaned the cargo hold thoroughly. He had double-checked every corner, yet found nothing. In the end, he had stood for several minutes just watching the two children sleep, his attention especially fixed on Menma's face.
That moment... when the boy had swung the blade at his throat, it kept repeating in his mind like a broken record.
Now, as he looked into Menma's steady, unshaken gaze, he felt no anger. Not anymore. He had cooled down during the night.
"In a struggle for survival," he thought, "nothing is wrong."
Not to mention what the kid had done was far beyond most people's capacity, showing Murakami his desire to live. It wasn't evil. It was instinctual. Desperate. Just like him and many other people in this broken world.
And for that, Murakami no longer felt rage, only growing curiosity.
Turning his head toward Sarah, Murakami calmly opened the cage gate and placed the food tray onto the hay. He then pulled his hand back and locked the gate again, not forgetting to retrieve a napkin to meticulously clean his fingers.
"Well, Sarah, my little treasure," he said with a faux-gentle smile, "would you be so kind as to help me feed that boy? You see, my clothes are far too clean to enter your... resting place."
His tone was smooth, polite even, yet carried a disturbing undercurrent. Sarah's face twisted in disgust, but she said nothing. She cautiously approached the tray, wary of any traps he might've prepared.
Murakami smiled with amusement, watching her like a cat observing a cornered bird. The patience in his eyes was theatrical, meant to unnerve. And it worked.
Meanwhile, Menma forced himself upright. The motion rewarded him with a throb of pain across his body and loud pops from his stiff joints.
Murakami noticed the discomfort and couldn't help but chuckle, clearly delighted. In his enjoyment, he missed the moment Sarah carefully dragged the tray away from the bars, pulling it closer to herself.
He smiled helplessly, pretending to have missed a chance to have a lot of fun.
Sarah let out a faint breath of relief. Then, turning back, she moved toward Menma, intending to share the food with him, only for Murakami's voice to slice through the silence once more.
"Ah, ah, ah. My dear Sarah, you can't do that," he said, his tone coated in saccharine mockery.
"You see, I plan to sell you as a beautiful maiden. And if you don't consume all that rich, high-calorie food yourself, becoming a slender and delicate thing, I'll be losing value. So! You'll eat it all. Alone. And while you do... look into the eyes of our precious young master of the Uzumaki clan."
Sarah's body began to tremble as his cruel vision of her future struck deep. But before her dread could overtake her again, a warm hand landed gently over hers.
Looking up, she met Menma's eyes, steady, confident, radiating calm. He gave her a firm nod, and her shaking subsided just enough. Remembering what he had done for her the night before, she bit her lip and slowly began to eat, even as tears welled up in the corners of her swollen, red eyes.
Murakami, watching the silent exchange, leaned casually back and exhaled.
"You know, Menma... you're so cruel to her, letting her depends so much on you." he said, shaking his head with a mockingly somber tone.
"We both know, once you're sold off, you'll be kept isolated, while she... she'll endure pain beyond imagination. Isn't it better to let her get used to small heartbreaks now? Let her prepare for the real hell she's about to face, alone?"
His words were disturbingly sincere. It sent a chill down Menma's spine.
He tightened his grip on Sarah's hand to steady her, then raised his eyes to meet Murakami's, looking straight through the iron bars between them.
To Menma, those bars no longer just separated them, they reversed a mirror. Where once he had been the guard in front of Kurama's seal, protecting the Konoha's people, now he was once again the guard. And Murakami... the beast.
"I'm not cruel," Menma said softly, yet with razor-sharp resolve.
"Because I'll never let what you're imagining happen. Of that, I'm absolutely certain."
Murakami's smile faltered. His lips stiffened. He stared at the boy silently, the gleam of delight in his eyes replaced by a cold calculation. Menma's words were an alarm bell in his mind, warning him that this child wasn't to be underestimated.
The quiet that followed was broken only by the occasional, loud grumble of Menma's stomach but neither he nor Murakami acknowledged it. They simply stared at Sarah, silently urging her to finish eating.
Once Sarah finished the food and drank the beverage prepared for her, her small belly had expanded like a little ball, clearly full. Menma noticed the bulge through her tattered shirt and quickly turned away, trying to resist the urge to poke it. It reminded him of Snow's bloated belly on the raft, always adorably stuffed.
Sarah blushed faintly, sensing his gaze and instantly understanding what it meant.
Murakami's face darkened upon seeing the gentle affection exchanged between the two. But then, as a twisted thought entered his mind, his expression shifted into a wide, delighted grin.
"Excellent work, my girl," he said with honeyed malice.
"Now, let's help your dear friend drink his medicine. You'll have to feed him the rest of the water... and then the bottle of medicine. Be careful now. If it spills, I'll have to give him another one and I'm not sure he could survive that."
His words carried a cruel amusement, but neither Sarah nor Menma reacted. They remained composed, silently playing along. Murakami watched with satisfaction as Sarah brought the water to Menma, helping him drink. Then she unsealed the poison bottle and handed it to him.
Menma first gave it a light sniff, checking its contents, and then called out silently to Kurama, alerting him to be ready.
Then, without hesitation, he downed the entire bottle.
Not a single drop was wasted.
Almost instantly, a searing heat bloomed from his belly. At first, it was a painful burn. But it gradually turned into a warm wave, spreading through his weary body, lulling his exhausted senses and making his eyelids heavy.
Murakami, pleased with the potent effects of the stronger poison, nodded in approval. But then, he turned back to Sarah with a sinister smirk.
"Now Sarah, there's just one more thing you have to drink before we're done here."
Sarah looked confused. She scanned the tray, now empty, then turned to Murakami, expecting him to pass her another dose of poison.
But the captain didn't move.
Instead, his grin widened as he slowly raised his finger and pointed directly at Menma.
Menma, now slightly dazed and sluggish, didn't immediately comprehend. Sarah looked back and forth between the two, her brows furrowed. Her voice was quiet and cracked, hoarse from crying.
"I… don't… understand… What… do… you… mean?"
Murakami burst into laughter, like a man who had been waiting years for that question.
"Hahaha! Of course you wouldn't understand!" he jeered gleefully."
"Originally, I planned to let you drink the leftover poison from the boy's portion. But since he was such a good child, I can't just not poison you, now can I?"
"So, I've decided; you're going to drink his saliva. That should be enough to knock you out for a long time, given how much you've eaten."
It took a long, heavy silence before either of them processed what they had just heard.
Menma exploded first.
His foggy mind snapped into clarity.
His body surged with power.
He leapt up with a fury unlike anything before, glaring at Murakami with wild eyes. His clenched fists trembled with barely-contained violence.
"You bastard! How dare you?! Do you think I can't kill you right now? Go wash your mouth in the sea, you soulless piece of garbage! I'll—"
But before he could charge forward, two small hands gently cupped his face and turned it to the side.
Startled, Menma turned, following the hands, still shouting but his words died in his throat.
His vision was filled with white strands of hair.
And then, a warm, soft sensation touched his lips.
His brain froze for ten full seconds.
By the time he regained control, something warm and sweet was being drawn from inside his mouth. When he realized what was happening, he recoiled violently, tearing the touch away.
Inside the seal, both Minato and Kurama stared wide-eyed in stunned silence.
Elsewhere in the dark cargo, a pair of furious eyes burned beneath a blanket of hay. Two claws twitched furiously, digging into the planks of the ship, nearly tearing them apart.
Snow was not happy.
Menma looked at Sarah, searching her eyes for answers but they were already glassy and unfocused.
The poison had taken effect, instantly.
She collapsed into his arms.
Menma stared, still stunned, completely lost in the whirlwind inside his mind and heart.
"Oh my! If you two were a little older, I'd probably have to change your cage," Murakami chuckled, still standing outside.
"Otherwise, by the time we reached our destination, I'd be selling a pregnant girl. Thank goodness you're not there yet."
The rage that had been briefly suppressed by shock now ignited into full-blown fury.
"Mu! Ra! Ka! Mi!" Menma growled. Shouting each segment louder than the last, almost shaking the cargo by his voice alone!
"I'll kill you."
He gently placed Sarah down, but when he turned to lunge at Murakami, he found his body restrained.
Sarah's unconscious hand was still gripping his wrist tightly. Even in her unconsciousness, she refused to let go.
He tried to pry her fingers open but the grip was impossibly firm.
Unless he broke her hand, she wouldn't let go.
Turning back to Murakami, eyes blazing like an inferno, he clenched his teeth and swore:
"I swear! I'll cut out your rotten black heart myself! Even if I have to endure this humiliation today…
I will kill you. Your last moments are closer than you think."
Murakami simply straightened his coat and turned to leave, unaffected by the boy's fury.
"I've seen worse. Heard worse. You're no threat," he said coldly, walking toward the stairs.
"I'll come back again tomorrow…"
He paused at the foot of the trap door.
"…And by the way, I've always been ready to face it."
Step. Step. Scratch.
Bang.
The trap door slammed shut.
And darkness swallowed the cell once more, along with the storm raging in the heart of a red-haired ghost, burning silently in his cage.