The instant Fujimoto Tōma's true body vanished into distorted space, something stirred far away.
Inside the Hokage's office, Tōma's sage-enhanced spiritual clone froze mid-step, then abruptly straightened.
"Lord Hokage?" Nara Shikaku startled. "Did something happen?"
The clone didn't answer. He walked to the window, eyes closed, senses spreading outward like a net cast into nothingness. Seconds passed. Then minutes.
His brow slowly furrowed.
Nothing.
No matter how deeply he focused, he couldn't feel his main body at all.
If he hadn't known the original had entered the Rōran mission and likely crossed through time itself, he might have already assumed the worst.
Fortunately, this wasn't an ordinary shadow clone. This was a spirit-anchored clone, sustained by a fragment of his soul. Natural energy flowed freely into it, keeping both chakra and consciousness stable. A normal clone would have collapsed the moment the connection failed.
"So… you sensed Flying Thunder God marks inside that space," the clone murmured. "But you didn't land in the past."
If Tōma had truly gone backward in this world's timeline, traces would exist. He was too careless not to leave them. And Flying Thunder God meant at minimum a point after the Second Hokage's era.
Was there really a past where even he couldn't leave a mark?
Unlikely.
Which meant only one thing.
The original hadn't gone to this world's past at all.
The clone nodded slowly. That explained why no paradoxes or historical echoes existed.
But if not the past… then where?
The future didn't feel right either.
After a moment, the clone turned to Shikaku.
"Shikaku," he said calmly, "you're taking over all Hokage duties for now. I'm entering closed training."
"…What?"
Before Shikaku could process that, a signed order was shoved into his hands, stamped with the Hokage seal. Then the clone vanished from the office entirely.
Shikaku stared at the document, then at the seal in his palm, expression torn between disbelief and dry laughter.
He really handed me everything.
Still… with Tōma's strength, rebellion was a fantasy at best.
The problem was workload. Even after reforms, the Hokage's responsibilities weren't light. And without an assistant…
Shikaku's eyes lit up.
"Guess it's time to drag Shikamaru in," he muttered.
The clone reappeared near Rōran's ruins, sat cross-legged, and pushed his perception to its limit, trying to catch even the faintest thread connecting him to his main body.
Nothing.
He exhaled slowly and stayed patient.
That was when a small, luminous figure drifted into view.
"You didn't need to follow me," the clone said quietly. "You could've stayed home."
The moon spirit shook its head and hopped onto his shoulder, curling up comfortably.
The clone sighed. "Suit yourself."
Then, suddenly, his body stiffened.
There it was.
Faint. Indirect. But unmistakable.
He could sense the original.
"…Why now?"
His gaze shifted to the moon spirit.
A thought surfaced. The Ōtsutsuki artifact that could cross time had feared this little being.
"So that's it," he murmured.
After repeated tests, the conclusion became unavoidable.
The connection existed only because of the moon spirit.
He gently held it up. "What exactly are you?"
The spirit rubbed against his palm, confused.
The meaning drifted through his mind.
I'm something you made.
The clone smiled bitterly. Whatever the truth was, it went deeper than creation alone.
But answers could wait.
With the key identified, staying in Rōran was pointless.
In the next moment, he vanished again, reappearing in the depths of Shikkotsu Forest. Sitting quietly, he focused not on training, but on sensation.
This was the clearest understanding of time and space he'd ever experienced.
He couldn't waste it.
Elsewhere.
Light faded.
Fujimoto Tōma slowly opened his eyes.
Hanging in front of him was a familiar kunai, marked with the Flying Thunder God seal. No doubt about it.
Minato's.
A weak but sharp voice rang out behind him.
"Don't move!"
Tōma turned.
A woman with vivid red hair stood there, trembling, clutching a kunai with both hands. Her chakra was chaotic. Her body barely holding together.
Recognition hit instantly.
"…Uzumaki Kushina," he whispered.
Behind her, a small bundle stirred.
A baby.
Naruto.
So this was the moment.
Kushina stiffened when she heard her name. "Are you with him?" she demanded, buying time, praying desperately for Minato to return.
"Which one?" Tōma asked mildly.
She didn't relax. "Then why are you here?"
Tōma paused. "If I said I got lost… would you believe me?"
She stared.
"…Where am I?" he added.
"Konoha," she said carefully. "The Fourth Hokage's home."
Tōma stepped forward and gently picked up the crying infant.
"Then things have gone very wrong," he said calmly. "A Hokage's wife shouldn't look this close to death."
"Put him down!" Kushina shouted.
Tōma sighed, rocking Naruto until he quieted. "If I wanted you dead, no one here could stop me."
She knew he was right.
Silence stretched.
"So," he said lightly, "what's your verdict?"
She swallowed. "What do you want?"
"For now?" Tōma replied. "Nothing."
That answer unsettled her more than threats.
He closed his eyes, reaching outward.
The Nine-Tails.
Rampaging.
When he opened them again, he placed a hand on Kushina's shoulder.
Life surged into her.
She gasped.
"This… healing?"
"It's temporary," Tōma said. "Your problem is structural, not medical."
They stepped outside.
From a rooftop, they saw it.
The Nine-Tails tearing through Konoha. Shinobi throwing themselves at it just to slow it down.
Tōma spotted the Third Hokage forcing the beast back, already exhausted.
Then the Nine-Tails began forming a Tailed Beast Ball.
Kushina's face drained of color.
"Don't panic," Tōma said, eyes shifting toward the Hokage Monument.
A golden flash appeared.
Minato.
The Fourth Hokage looked up.
And saw them.