The young man regained his consciousness and instantly felt the copper-like stench, the scent of blood. He opened his eyes and peered through the holes in his mask.
The bright light and heat momently blinded him before he realized what it was. It was fire.
He had lost control again...
"Why... didn't you speak? Why are you silent when I need you the most? Didn't you say that you would stop me?"
The masked man despaired silently as he started to walk aimlessly through the smoldering rubble of what he assumed used to be a city.
He noticed something on the ground and stopped and picked it up. It was a arm, heavily charred. The size disturbed him.
The size implied that it used to be attached to a child.
The mere implication made his stomach hurl and in his shock and sudden movement to bow down and remove his mask in order to empty his stomach, his grip clenched and the arm crumbled from the force.
After the sickening experience of vomiting, he sat down in the pile of vomit due to exhaustion.
Why, what had he done in his past life to be cursed like this?
Why won't you speak!?" he roared with despair inside his mind, but nothing replied. Only silence greeted him.
Five minutes of silence was enough to crack his stoic posture and he started to sob, hating himself and the voice that refused to return. It plagued him in his youth, trying to dictate him, telling him what to do.
He longed for those days once more. He was happy then, even if he didn't really show it that much.
"Please... just talk to me... I hate this... I'm so lonely..."
Menma whispered out loud, drowning in despair, not noticing that the darkness within him was starting to churn, eager to resurface.
"Yo!"
And then it instantly receded and the masked young man looked up at the voice with superhuman speed.
The bright grin of the voice was as blinding as he remembered it.
"Stop moping. It won't make the dead return. All it does is chain you to your sins. Get up and atone for your sins. Don't worry, I've been busy until now but I'll be here to help you from now on. Here, take my hand."
The owner of the voice, a transparent blond young man, with uncanny resemblance to Menma offered his hand to the masked man.
Menma was momently stunned by the appearance of the voice and its owner but he steeled himself and forced himself to stand, taking the imaginary friend's hand and started to walk forward, the blond by his side.
"...I'm sorry Naruto. I lost control again..."
The blond frowned for a moment before he confidently grinned.
"Don't worry, we'll get you and it under control. It's a promise. And I never go back on my promises. That's my ninja way!"
Menma smiled. He would not kill anyone anymore. He would do his best. It's a promise.