Konoha slept.
The lanterns were out. The alleys were calm. Shadows stretched across the walls like ancient hands.
Naruto was running.
Not to escape. Not to play.
He ran to breathe. To forget the weight of the forehead protector wrapped around his brow. A weight that carried no honor.
Another lie.
"You're a graduate."
Those words still echoed in his mind, as hollow as the promises they'd made when he was a child.
He raced through the forest, barefoot against damp bark. The night was clear. The moon painted strange futures on his skin—futures he didn't want.
And then… he stopped.
Something was vibrating.
Not in the ground. Not in the wind.
In the air itself.
An invisible shiver. A rupture in matter.
[Secondary System: World Traversal – Activation Imminent.]
[Unstable dimensional anchor point detected.]
[Destination: World 199999 – Parameters: Unstable.]
[Do you wish to authorize the passage?]
Naruto frowned.
He had never heard this voice before.
It wasn't the usual System.
It was… deeper. Older.
What the hell is this?
[Automatic activation in 10… 9… 8…]
— "Hey, wait! Can I refuse?"
[Negative. Transition initiated.]
— "Tch… damn it…"
He raised his hand. Instinctively.
Mokuton burst from his palms, attempting to form a dome—a barrier.
But space tore apart.
A rupture. A wound in the fabric of reality. A silent scream.
And Naruto was swallowed whole.
🗽 New York City — Earth-199999 — 2:04 AM
The impact wasn't physical.
It was energetic.
Naruto opened his eyes… and saw a sky he didn't recognize.
Too many lights. Buildings too tall. Screeching machines.
And giant screens.
Faces. Words. Images in a language he didn't fully grasp.
He was standing on the edge of a rooftop. A tower. Wind lashed at his hair.
A massive letter "A" glowed across the glass façade.
Where the hell am I?
He staggered. His legs trembled.
No pain.
But a deep disorientation.
[Dimensional energy absorbed. Body adaptation in progress.]
[Sensory recalibration… complete.]
He blinked.
And then… he perceived everything.
The heartbeats below. The rumble of engines. The electromagnetic currents in the air.
This world was too loud. Too alive. Too different.
He wanted to run.
But something—someone—was approaching.
A rustle behind him.
Naruto turned.
And saw a woman.
She wore a black, tactical, skin-tight suit. Red hair framed her shoulders. Her posture was fluid, feline. In her eyes—an unreadable glint. Not hostile. Not naïve. Just… watchful.
— "Let me guess," she said calmly. "You're not supposed to be here."
Naruto didn't respond.
He stared at her. Analyzed.
Every muscle twitch. Every eye flick. Every faint breath.
And yet…
I can't read her.
She stepped closer, slowly.
— "Do you speak English?"
Naruto narrowed his eyes.
— "… What?"
She smiled, gently.
— "Well, at least you understand me. That's a good start."
She raised her hands in a peaceful gesture.
— "My name's Natasha Romanoff. Some call me Black Widow. And you are…?"
Naruto hesitated.
He could have lied.
He should have.
But something in this woman's voice…
— "Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki."
She raised an eyebrow.
— "Well, Naruto… you're a long way from home."
?
New York, 2:19 AM — Rooftop of Stark Tower
The wind slid between skyscrapers like an invisible blade, carrying the sounds of a city that never truly slept. Headlights, horns, blinking neon—everything vibrated like a living, urban heartbeat.
And at the edge of that vertical jungle… a boy stood still.
Naruto, bathed in the streetlamp's glow, stared at the woman who had just spoken his name as though it were some ancient riddle.
Natasha Romanoff.
A spy. A killer.
But maybe—just maybe—one of the first not to look at him like a monster.
— "You're not from around here," she said, unmoving.
Naruto pressed his lips into a line.
— "And you ask too many questions."
She gave a small, amused smile.
— "It's my job. What about you? What's yours?"
He hesitated.
Then shrugged.
— "Survival."
A silence followed.
She glanced over his appearance—strange attire, worn sandals, the odd headband across his brow. Nothing about him said "New York."
And yet… he carried himself with a dangerous calm. His gaze had nothing of a child's innocence.
She stepped to the side.
— "We shouldn't stay here. You're not exactly subtle."
Naruto didn't move.
— "You want to take me somewhere? Lock me up? Experiment on me? Cut me open?"
Natasha remained still.
— "No. Just shelter. You can leave any time. You already know I couldn't stop you."
Naruto's eyes hardened.
There was truth in her words.
But he wasn't ready to believe it.
Not yet.
---
Thirty minutes later – A safehouse above an abandoned garage in Brooklyn
The room was modest. Computer, coffee maker, a foldable bed, a few cans stacked in a corner, and an unassuming cabinet—filled with cleverly hidden weapons.
Naruto entered without a word. He scanned everything. Marked each exit, each blind spot.
Natasha placed two cups on the small table.
— "No ramen, but I've got hot chocolate. It's what I used to like as a kid."
Naruto sat slowly. Avoided her gaze.
— "I didn't grow up with preferences. When you only eat leftovers, you stop having favorites."
She looked at him, and this time, something in her eyes softened. Not pity.
Just… a reflection.
— "I know how that feels."
Naruto looked up. For the first time.
— "You're not lying."
— "Not about that, no."
Silence.
He picked up the cup. Took a sip.
His hands were steady, but his breathing… just a bit shallow.
— "It's sweet. Too sweet. But not bad."
Natasha smiled faintly.
---
A few hours later
Naruto sat against the wall, legs crossed, arms folded. He watched the rain hammer the windows with eerie calm.
Natasha, meanwhile, typed quickly on her laptop, analyzing the thermal data from his sudden appearance.
— "Your arrival triggered an electromagnetic spike—Level 8. SHIELD will trace it in under twenty-four hours."
Naruto shrugged.
— "Let them come."
She turned to him, slowly.
— "Why?"
— "Because they'll try to lock me up. And that'll give me an excuse to hit something."
His words were cold. Sharp. Controlled.
But Natasha… heard something else.
A vast exhaustion.
Not rage. Not violence.
Just… emptiness.
— "Who did this to you?" she asked.
Naruto raised an eyebrow.
— "Did what?"
— "Made you like this. Suspicious. Sharp-edged. Alone."
He laughed. Dry. Hollow.
— "Everyone."
She stepped forward. Slowly. Stopped in front of him.
— "Tell me."
— "Konoha. That's where I'm from. A village. They all looked at me like I was poison."
— "Why?"
— "Because they believe I am."
A heavy silence.
— "Are you?" she asked.
Naruto stared at her.
— "I've got a demon sealed inside me. My father left it as a parting gift. Like a goodbye letter."
— "But you're not that demon."
He looked away.
— "I am what people see. Not what I am. So I stopped fighting it."
— "You could've become a real monster."
He smiled.
— "Maybe I did."
She shook her head.
— "No. You didn't. You'd be long gone. Or I'd be dead. But you're here. Sitting. Calm."
A long pause.
Naruto stared at her. Deep, searching.
— "Why do you talk to me like I'm human?"
She answered without blinking:
— "Because I was taught not to be one, too."
---
Night fell slowly. Naruto didn't sleep. He never really did.
He listened.
To Natasha's breathing. Her heartbeat. The tension in her muscles when she thought he wasn't looking.
He already knew she was dangerous. But also that she wasn't playing games.
She hadn't lied. Not once.
He didn't know what to do with that.
So he said nothing.
---
At 3:14 AM, he got up and opened the window.
The wind blew in. He closed his eyes.
The city smelled of steel. Fuel. Blood.
But underneath it all… was a heartbeat. A rhythm.
A new world.
A possibility.
— "You planning on staying?" she asked from the shadows.
Naruto didn't even flinch.
— "I have to. My system hasn't shown me how to return yet."
— "System?"
He turned toward her. And for the first time, he spoke without armor.
— "I have two systems. One that makes me stronger every second. And one that brought me here."
Natasha didn't answer right away.
— "You don't believe me," he added.
— "I do," she said. "Because I've never seen anyone like you."
He nodded.
— "Thank you… for not being afraid."
She stepped closer. Slowly. Stopped just short of reaching him.
— "You're not alone, Naruto. You thought you were… but you're not anymore."
He wanted to reply.
But his throat tightened.
And in his eyes, for the very first time…
A fragile light.
Morning struggled to take hold.
New York slowly stretched its arteries of steel and glass beneath a heavy sky thick with gray clouds. Inside the hidden comfort of the garage, the air was warm, laced with the smell of coffee, rain… and an unfamiliar presence.
Naruto had stayed up all night.
He hadn't closed his eyes. No need.
Since arriving in this world, his senses had never rested.
His muscles were relaxed. His mind, clear.
And yet… something resisted.
Something throbbed faintly in his chest—an off-key note in the melody of his stillness.
A voice. A gesture. A glance.
Her glance.
Natasha was asleep on the folded bed, her breathing steady, her face finally unguarded. A lock of hair fell across her cheek. She barely moved, like a wolf at rest.
Naruto couldn't look away.
There was a peace in this moment… a peace he had never known.
And he hated it as much as he craved it.
She could wake up and kill me in a heartbeat. Or she could just… reach out. And I wouldn't know what to do.
When she opened her eyes, he looked away.
But she had seen him.
She stretched with ease, no concern for modesty, reached for a T-shirt draped over the chair, and pulled it over her frame.
— You didn't sleep, she said flatly.
He shrugged.
— Didn't need to.
She walked closer. Barefoot. Just a black tank top. A thin scar ran along her left shoulder blade.
She stood in front of him.
— You were watching me.
Naruto didn't look away.
— Yeah.
— Why?
He sighed. Slowly.
— I don't know what you are.
— And that bothers you?
— No. But… I want to understand.
A beat.
Then Natasha sat down beside him. Less than a meter away.
— I don't know what you are either, Naruto. But I've learned to trust my instincts.
— And what are they telling you?
She stared at him. For a long moment.
— That you're lonelier than you admit. And that you're scared… scared that if someone gets too close, they'll see what you're hiding.
Naruto closed his eyes.
Not to run.
But to hold back the pain trying to rise.
— You're right. But it doesn't change anything.
She placed a hand on his arm.
Not firm. Not hesitant.
Just… there.
He didn't push it away.
— How old are you? she asked.
— Eighteen.
— That's young to carry so much.
— I carried worse when I was five.
She didn't respond. But her fingers brushed lightly along his skin.
A warm touch. Human.
— Do you want me to leave? she whispered.
Naruto opened his eyes.
— No.
A heartbeat.
— I want you to stay. But not like the others. Not as a role. Just… stay as you are.
She nodded.
And this time, she leaned in slightly.
— You're not a monster, Naruto. You're not your past.
— I am what the world made of me.
— Maybe. But I can help you become… what you want to be.
He looked at her. Unarmored.
And in his eyes, she finally saw what he had buried for so long.
An ocean of pain. But also… a spark. A flame.
Not passion. Not yet.
But a budding trust.
He leaned forward.
And their foreheads touched.
Just that.
A contact.
No kiss. No promise.
But a beginning.
A silent pact.
Later that day, they shared a simple meal.
She watched him eat. He did so slowly, like each bite had a new taste.
— Can you cook? he asked.
— A bit. Enough to survive.
— That's what we do, right? We survive.
She looked up at him.
— Maybe we could do more than that.
He set down his chopsticks.
— You mean… live?
She smiled softly.
— Yes. Slowly. Together. If you want.
A silence.
Then Naruto nodded.
— I'd like to try.
Time passed.
Not like in Konoha. Here, the days weren't ruled by missions, reports, or team drills.
Here, every day was improvisation.
A fragile cohabitation, but a stable one.
Naruto had made the upstairs apartment above the garage his own. A meditation space near the window. A sleeping mat on the floor, even though a folding bed was available. A stack of notebooks he filled by hand each night—observations about this world, its laws, its weaknesses.
Natasha had her corner—a table stacked with encrypted files, dismantled weapons she cleaned in silence. By day, she went out to gather intel. At night, she stayed in, watching Naruto train, never interrupting.
The first week, they barely spoke.
Brief exchanges.
— Want coffee?
— No.
— You heading out?
— Not yet.
But each day, a word more.
A syllable falling like a pebble into a still lake.
Until words became sentences.
Then confessions.
---
Second week.
Natasha invited him to train with her.
Not to evaluate.
But to understand.
He refused at first.
Then silently accepted.
They clashed in a swift, brutal, precise dance.
Naruto always one step ahead—but never arrogant. Natasha always sharp, always in control.
At the end, panting and soaked in sweat, they stared at each other.
And she smiled.
— You were born for war.
He replied, without flinching:
— And you've never stopped surviving.
---
Third week.
She came home one evening with a gash on her side.
Naruto, wordless, knelt and tended to her wound.
No talking. No flashy jutsu.
Just hands. And silence.
She watched him, trembling.
— You didn't ask anything, she whispered.
— You didn't want to answer.
She nodded.
That night, she slept more deeply than usual.
And he... didn't get up to meditate.
He lay beside her.
Not on the bed. Just the floor.
But close.
---
Week four.
Naruto spoke to her about the Mokuton.
Just one sentence.
— I inherited a power that makes trees grow. But nothing grows inside me.
She listened.
And replied:
— You're not a desert. You're just fallow soil—waiting.
He didn't fully understand.
But he remembered those words.
---
Week five.
They went out together for the first time.
Just a walk around the block. Hoods up. Silent.
But in a back alley, a group of thugs attacked an old woman.
Naruto stepped in.
Not violently. Just effectively. A wave of his hand—and roots burst from the ground, pinning the attackers.
Natasha, beside him, watched… not with fear. Not even surprise.
And he let out a real smile.
— You're getting used to this.
— I'm getting attached, she replied.
---
Week six.
A fight. A bad one.
Naruto had destroyed a device during a moment of rage, triggered by a painful memory.
Natasha yelled. He shouted back. Words sharp, cruel.
Then… silence.
He left. She stayed.
He came back that night.
She was waiting.
They didn't speak.
But that evening, he ate with her. At the same table.
For the first time.
---
Week seven.
A sleepless night.
Naruto heard her shifting, gasping.
A nightmare.
He approached. Slowly.
She bolted upright, drenched in sweat, fists clenched.
But when she saw him… she lowered her arms.
He sat at the edge of her bed.
She said nothing.
He reached out.
She placed her hand in his.
And stayed that way until dawn.
---
Week eight.
Something had shifted.
They spoke naturally now. Crossed paths in the hall. Exchanged looks that needed no words.
Naruto would leave a notebook open sometimes. She'd read it. Slowly. Add a remark in the margin.
She'd leave dismantled weapons on purpose.
He'd clean them without being asked.
They no longer lived together out of necessity.
But out of balance.
One evening, as the city drifted to sleep, they sat together on the rooftop.
The sky was clear. Stars everywhere.
Naruto looked up.
— Didn't think there were still places with sky like this.
— There are a few. You just have to know how to look.
He turned his head.
— And you? Do you see me?
She looked at him. Slowly.
— Yes.
He placed his hand on hers. She didn't pull away.
The silence between them was no longer cold.
It was gentle. Solid. Steady.
And that night…
They slept in the same bed.
No sudden moves.
No need for explanations.
Just...
together.