Naruto blinked once, feeling the surge.
"Huh. Weirdmageddon range… two hundred fifty–one meters now. Nice. Looks like the more I trick into a handshake, the stronger I get." He tapped his chin. "And if the target is important… maybe even their abilities transfer? Good to know."
Satisfied, he finally turned toward Hinata. She flinched immediately.
Her whole body trembled, eyes wide with fear—not because she hated Naruto, but because nothing about him resembled the bright, goofy boy she had known minutes ago.
Just a cosmic predator wearing the shape of a child.
Naruto walked up to her without hesitation.
Hinata froze completely as he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
A tiny, -romantic peck—surprisingly gentle for someone who just erased three children.
Hinata turned bright pink, hands flying to her mouth, her eyes spinning. "U-Umm… N-Naruto-kun…?"
Naruto tilted his head, studying her reaction.
Then he crouched down to her level. "Hey. Look at me, Hinata."
Hinata peeked at him shyly, face burning.
"Do you want to be my wife?" he asked calmly, as if asking whether she wanted to play tag.
Hinata's entire soul short-circuited. Her face turned a shade of red no human should naturally achieve. Her fingers twisted together. She stared at the ground, then him, then the ground again.
"I–If it's Naruto-kun… I-I'm… very—"
Her voice broke into tiny squeaks. A six-year-old's innocent heart trying to process a question far too big for her age—yet filled with pure, childish earnestness.
Hinata's voice broke into tiny squeaks. A six-year-old's innocent heart trying to process a moment far too intense for her age—yet filled with pure, childlike earnestness.
"N-Naruto-kun… y-you're… very handsome…"
Naruto smirked. Good. My charisma skill still works. Especially on someone this timid.
Hinata fidgeted, fingers poking together, words stumbling out again. "U-Umm! Naruto-kun… w-would you… like to c-come to my house? I-I can hide you f-from my p-parents. And… and Neji…"
Naruto lifted a hand, shaking his head calmly. "That's very nice of you, Hinata. Really. But—"
He turned, cloak fluttering, eye patch glinting. "I need to be somewhere else right now."
Hinata stepped forward, worry rising in her expression. "O-Oh… Naruto-kun… then… when will I s-see you again…?"
Naruto didn't answer her. Hinata blinked once, confused. He had been standing right in front of her . She, heard the faint echo of his last step. But now… He was gone.
Just empty winter air where a boy—no, something far older—had been.
Hinata's hands reached out weakly, grasping nothing. "N-Naruto… kun…?"
Her small voice trembled as snow drifted past her eyelashes.
Then— "HINATA!" . A figure sprinted toward her . Hiashi Hyuga dropped to his knees the moment he reached her, hands gripping her shoulders as he pulled her into a fierce embrace.
His heartbeat hammered against her cheek. "Hinata," he breathed, voice shaking in a way she had never heard before, "my daughter… where have you been? The entire clan is searching. I was searching. I feared—"
He stopped himself, pulling her tighter. "Do you know how worried I was?"
Hinata didn't answer immediately. She clutched the front of his robes, small fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from everything she had just witnessed. The stone. The blood. Naruto standing again. His smile. The kiss. The terrifying power. The warmth he left behind.
She pulled back slightly, looking up at her father with trembling eyes.
"No… Father," she whispered.
Hiashi cupped her face, checking for bruises, for cuts, scanning her with the precision of a Hyuga head. "Are you hurt? Did someone touch you?
Hinata shook her head softly. "I… I'm fine."
Hiashi exhaled shakily, relief flooding his posture as he pulled her close once more.
She rested her cheek against his chest.
And in that small, breathless moment—safe in her father's arms, snow drifting around them like tiny falling stars—she whispered the truth she barely understood.
"No, Father… I think… I just found my hero."
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Naruto walked down the snow-covered street with both hands buried in his pockets, steam rising from his breath. The cold didn't bother him. What bothered him was the absolute stupidity of his current situation.
"I should've brought ryo instead of dollars," he muttered, kicking a chunk of ice out of his way. "Why the hell did I think I'd get stuck in America? Now I'm penniless in Konoha with no cash and barely any juice on my reality warp."
He clicked his tongue, annoyed. Anything he created with Bill Cipher's powers flickered out the moment it left the two-hundred-fifty-one-meter radius around him. No gold. No weapons. No fancy houses. No infinite money glitch. Everything snapped back to nothing the moment it crossed that invisible threshold.
"I'm basically nerfed," he grumbled. "This is embarrassing."
He kept walking until a familiar scent curled into his senses—warm broth, pork, noodles, the cheap but divine perfume of comfort.
He stopped. Ichiraku Ramen.
Naruto stared at the sign, breath stilling for a second. A memory he hadn't felt in a millennium tugged inside him—a shy smile, a warm bowl, a kind voice saying eat well, Naruto.
He exhaled sharply. "Tch. Would that make me like my pathetic canon timeline self? Hanging out here every day, slurping ramen like an NPC?"
He paused. Then shrugged. "Yes I am."
He pushed open the curtain. A warm draft hit his face along with the sizzling smell of broth and pork belly. Teuchi turned toward him with a cheerful smile.
"Oh! A customer! Wel—"
The sentence broke in half. Teuchi blinked, eyes narrowing with confusion as he took in the sight before him: a six-year-old boy, wearing a long black noble cloak, a top hat, an eyepatch, a polished cane, sharp boots, and the confidence of someone who looked like he'd just robbed the daimyo's treasury and gotten away with it.
Teuchi leaned forward, eyebrows rising. "Naruto? Are you from… a carnival festival ?"
Naruto froze for a split second. Then he slowly glanced down at himself.
Oh right. The outfit. The cloak. The hat. The fact he looked like a miniature aristocrat crossed with a stage magician and a demon lord.
He straightened up instantly, switching into smooth-criminal mode with a shameless grin.
"Yeah," Naruto said, flicking his cloak dramatically. "From a carnival. And honestly… I think I quite like these clothes."
Teuchi blinked at the top hat, the cloak, the eyepatch, the cane, the aristocratic posture—all wrapped around a six-year-old. He cleared his throat. "R-Right. So… what can I get you, Naruto? Your favorite ramen?"
Naruto dropped onto the stool with the casual grace of someone who had sat on thrones bigger than countries. He rested one elbow on the counter.
"I'm penniless, old man," Naruto said flatly. "As far as I know, the Third Hokage helps me in the most fucking minimum way possible."
His voice didn't match his age. Neither did the exhaustion sitting behind it. Inside his chest, a quiet storm twisted.
I know very fucking well of my heritage. I'm the son of the Fourth Hokage. One of the last remnants of the Uzumaki. And I'm being given nothing.
His eye narrowed just slightly. Nothing but scraps.
Teuchi studied him carefully.
Naruto's tone. His posture. His glare. Everything screamed adulthood jammed into a child's frame. Teuchi had known the boy for some time —but this wasn't the same kid who used to bounce in asking for ramen with a bright, goofy grin.
This kid walked in like he had lived three lifetimes too many.
Teuchi rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. And then something in his expression softened.
"Alright," he said with a gentle grin. "Then it's on the house."
Naruto glanced at him, eye sharp.
Teuchi nodded firmly. "Now please, Naruto. For whatever rough day you've had… let me soothe that with my ramen. Same as usual. Same as before you became all—fancy."
Naruto inhaled, ready to reply.
The doorway slid open and a young genin stepped in, stretching his arms. "Old man! I've been training all day! I'm starving—gimme some ramen already!"
Just a normal kid looking for food. But Teuchi stiffened. He knew how things turned ugly whenever people noticed Naruto. A glance at the whisker marks, a shift in mood, the quiet whisper about the demon sealed inside him. Some people stared, some muttered, some pretended he wasn't there at all. Teuchi hated every part of it.
He forced a cheerful tone. "Ah—right. Sit anywhere. I'll make something for you. On the house."
If he kept the boy busy, maybe Naruto wouldn't—
Teuchi blinked. Naruto was gone. The stool sat empty.
The genin frowned. "Thought someone was sitting there. Guess not."
Teuchi turned toward the kitchen and froze. Someone stood at the sink wearing an apron, a chef's coat, dish gloves, and a cloth mask. A small frame. Child-sized. Quiet. Focused.
Naruto. Washing bowls with the efficiency of someone who had done this for years. The top hat rested on a shelf beside him like an abandoned crown.
The masked boy tilted his head slightly. "Name's Bill," he said in a low, steady voice. "Just a dish washer who got employed."
The genin glanced over. "Never seen you before. You new?"
Naruto—Bill—gave a small shrug, still scrubbing. "Yep. Started today. Someone's gotta keep the place clean."
The genin leaned on the counter with a proud grin. "Name's Idate. Idate Morino. Younger brother of Ibiki—you know, the scary interrogation guy with the scars? Yeah, him. I'm gonna be a chunin sooner than anyone thinks."
Naruto nodded once, keeping his movements steady. "Um… yeah. Good for you."
And in that filler arc at the Land of Tea, you'll be a sprinter because you fail at being a genin. How ironic.
Idate froze for a second, his smile twitching. "Why do I feel like you just thought something really rude about me?" He stared suspiciously. "You okay, Bill?"
Naruto rinsed a bowl and set it on the rack. "I'm very fine," he said calmly. "I just had a lot happen in a single day."
Idate shrugged. "Guess everyone's busy these days." He settled onto the counter stool, completely unaware of the reality-warping creature washing dishes a few steps away. His curiosity eventually got the better of him. "Hey, Bill… what's with the mask? Don't tell me you're a missing-nin or something."
Naruto didn't stop scrubbing. "I've got a huge scar across my mouth," he said evenly. "Hard to heal. Mask keeps people from staring."
Idate's expression tightened. "Damn… sorry. Did someone bully you? You can tell me. I mean it—I'm a genin now. I can help you out."
Naruto paused, water dripping from the bowl in his hands. He looked over his shoulder just a fraction, enough for one eye to meet Idate's.
"Idate," he said calmly, "I have a better idea."
Idate leaned forward, interested. "Yeah?"
Naruto turned fully, wiping his hands on a towel with theatrical precision. "Do you want to play a game with me? If you can guess my riddles, you can ask me anything you want. If you fail…" He shrugged lightly. "Well—no fun."