Gary had made many questionable decisions in his two lives.
There was the time he'd eaten gas station sushi and spent three days praying for death. There was the time he'd tried to impress a girl by claiming he could skateboard (he could not skateboard). There was the time he'd walked in front of a taco truck while holding instant ramen.
But this—this might be the most difficult decision of all.
He had to leave Konoha. Permanently.
The realization had come to him slowly, over the course of several weeks. The billion-ryo bounty on his head wasn't going away. If anything, it was attracting more attention. Bounty hunters arrived at Konoha's gates almost daily now, demanding to know where the giant was, threatening violence if they weren't given access.
The village handled it well—most hunters took one look at Konoha's defenses and reconsidered their life choices. But it was a drain on resources. A constant tension that hadn't existed before Gary's arrival.
And then there was Tsunade.
She was trying. She really was. The notebook had been replaced with a journal, the stalking had been replaced with scheduled visits, and the desperate clinging had been replaced with something approaching healthy attachment.
But Gary could see the strain it caused her.
Every time he left the village—even for a training session outside the walls—her emotional state spiked with anxiety. Every time he talked to another woman (or man, or really anyone), she had to actively fight the urge to insert herself into the conversation. She was white-knuckling her recovery, and Gary could sense how exhausted it made her.
She can't heal while I'm here, Gary realized. I'm the trigger. Every moment she spends around me is a moment she's fighting her worst instincts.
If I really care about her, I have to go.
It was a terrible conclusion. It felt like abandonment. It felt like exactly what she feared most.
But sometimes, love meant letting go.
Did I just think the word 'love'? Gary wondered. When did that happen?
He didn't have time to examine that thought. He had a plan to execute.
The morning of his departure, Gary invited Tsunade, Sakumo, Jiraiya, and Hiruzen to his warehouse.
They arrived together, sensing that something important was about to happen. Sakumo looked curious. Jiraiya looked worried. Hiruzen looked like he was mentally updating his conspiracy board. And Tsunade...
Tsunade looked at Gary with those honey-colored eyes, and he felt his resolve waver.
No, he told himself firmly. This is for her own good. This is for everyone's good.
"I have called you here to announce my departure," Gary said without preamble.
Silence.
Then chaos.
"WHAT?!" Tsunade's voice cracked like a whip. "No! We talked about this! You said you wouldn't leave!"
"I said I would return. And I will. But I cannot stay here permanently."
"Why not?!"
"Because my presence endangers this village. Because the bounty on my head attracts threats that Konoha should not have to face. And because..." Gary paused, choosing his words carefully. "Because you cannot heal while I am here."
Tsunade's face went pale.
"That's not—I'm fine! I'm doing better!"
"You are fighting every moment of every day. I can sense it." Gary's voice was gentle but firm. "You cannot build stability on a foundation of constant struggle. You need time. Space. The opportunity to find yourself without me as a crutch."
"I don't want time! I want you!"
"I know. And that is exactly why I must go."
Tsunade's breathing was becoming rapid. Gary could sense her emotional state spiraling—panic, desperation, the beginning of a breakdown.
He moved before she could react.
One moment, he was standing across the room. The next, he was beside her, his massive hand pressing gently against her forehead.
"Sleep," he said softly.
A pulse of Conqueror's Haki—carefully controlled, precisely targeted—washed over her. Not enough to harm. Just enough to overwhelm her consciousness.
Tsunade's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.
Gary caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her small form in his arms.
The room was dead silent.
Jiraiya's mouth was hanging open. Hiruzen had frozen mid-gesture. And Sakumo...
Sakumo nodded.
Just once. A small, approving nod.
He understands, Gary realized. He sees what I'm doing and why.
"Take care of her," Gary said, transferring Tsunade's unconscious form to Jiraiya's arms. "She will wake in a few hours. When she does, tell her what I told you. Tell her that I will return. But not until she has found her own strength."
"She's going to be furious," Jiraiya said weakly.
"I know."
"She might destroy the village looking for you."
"Make sure she doesn't."
"HOW?!"
Gary didn't have an answer to that. He turned to Hiruzen.
"Hokage. Thank you for your hospitality. Konoha has been... more than I expected."
Hiruzen seemed to shake himself out of his shock. "You're certain about this?"
"I am."
"Then I wish you well, Katakuri-san. You will always be welcome here." Hiruzen paused. "And when you return, I would very much like to discuss my theories about your lineage—"
"Goodbye, Hokage."
Gary turned to Sakumo last.
The White Fang stepped forward and extended his hand. Gary took it—carefully, given the size difference—and they shook.
"You're a good man, Katakuri," Sakumo said quietly. "What you're doing takes courage."
"I do not feel courageous. I feel like a coward running from something I cannot fight."
"Sometimes strategic retreat is the bravest choice." Sakumo smiled. "Come back someday. I'd like to spar again."
"I would like that too."
Gary released his hand and walked toward the door.
He paused at the threshold, looking back at the unconscious woman in Jiraiya's arms.
I'm sorry, Tsunade, he thought. But this is the only way I know to help you.
Please understand.
Please forgive me.
He walked out of the warehouse, out of Konoha, and didn't look back.
Three weeks later, Gary was lost.
Not physically—his Observation Haki made getting physically lost essentially impossible. But existentially? Emotionally? Completely and utterly lost.
He had wandered through Fire Country, through the borders into minor nations, through villages and cities and vast stretches of wilderness. He had killed seventeen bounty hunters (accidentally—they kept attacking him and he kept reacting before remembering to hold back), trapped another forty-three in mochi cocoons, and traumatized an unknown number of civilians with his mere appearance.
And he had found exactly nothing.
No purpose. No meaning. No reason to exist beyond simple survival.
This is worse than being a data entry clerk, Gary thought glumly, sitting in a mochi throne on top of a mountain. At least then I had spreadsheets. Now I have nothing but endless walking and people screaming at me.
He created a donut and ate it without enthusiasm.
Maybe I should take up a hobby. What do immortal mochi men do for fun?
The question had no good answers.
After a while, Gary stood and began walking again. Not toward anything in particular—just walking. Movement was better than stillness. Stillness gave him too much time to think.
He walked for two days before he found the bar.
It was a small establishment in a border town—the kind of place where people came to forget their troubles and drink until the world made sense. Gary would not have normally entered such a place (the doors were too small and the ceilings too low), but something drew him there.
Loneliness, probably. The desperate need for any kind of human interaction, even if it was just ordering a drink.
He transformed.
It was something he'd discovered he could do about a week into his wandering—compress his mochi body into a smaller form. Not human-sized, exactly, but close enough. About eight feet tall, still muscular, still crimson-haired, but capable of fitting through normal doors.
The transformation felt strange—like wearing a suit that was too tight—but it served its purpose.
Gary entered the bar.
Heads turned. Of course they did. He was still the largest person in the room by a significant margin, and his appearance was far from normal. But at least people weren't screaming.
Progress, Gary thought.
He found a seat at the bar—a sturdy stool that groaned under his weight but held—and ordered sake.
The bartender, a weathered man with the eyes of someone who had seen too much, poured without comment. Gary appreciated that.
"Haven't seen you around here before," the bartender said eventually. "Passing through?"
"Yes."
"From where?"
"Far away."
The bartender nodded as if this was a perfectly satisfactory answer. "Lot of travelers lately. Ever since that business with Hanzo, people are moving. Looking for safer places."
"Understandable."
"You heard about that? The giant who killed him?"
Gary took a sip of his sake. "I have heard some things."
"Crazy stuff. A billion ryo bounty, they say. Never been anything like it." The bartender leaned in conspiratorially. "Between you and me? I think the whole thing's exaggerated. No one's that powerful."
Oh, if only you knew.
"Perhaps," Gary said noncommittally.
The conversation drifted to other topics—local politics, the weather, the quality of this season's rice harvest. Gary found himself relaxing slightly. This was normal. This was almost like his old life, sitting in a bar after work, having meaningless conversations with strangers.
I miss this, he realized. I miss being just another person. Anonymous. Forgettable.
Too late for that now.
Several drinks later, Gary was feeling philosophical. Sake affected his mochi body differently than it would affect a human—no intoxication, just a pleasant warmth—but the ritual of drinking was soothing nonetheless.
A group of merchants had joined him at the bar, swapping stories about their travels. Gary listened more than he talked, content to be part of a conversation without being the center of it.
"—and then he says, 'That's not a merchant ship, that's a pirate!'" one of the merchants laughed. "Can you imagine? Pirates! In this day and age!"
Gary's ears perked up.
"Pirates?" he asked.
"Just a story," the merchant said. "From the old days. My grandfather used to talk about them—ships with black flags, crews of criminals sailing the seas, raiding coastal villages. But that was generations ago. There haven't been real pirates since the Warring States period."
Gary nodded slowly, but his mind was racing.
No pirates, he thought. This world doesn't have pirates. No Grand Line. No Devil Fruits. No One Piece.
Just ninjas.
The thought made him oddly melancholic. One Piece had been his favorite anime—the story of Luffy and his crew, their adventures, their dreams. He had spent hundreds of hours watching it, reading it, theorizing about it.
And now he was in a world where it didn't exist.
"It's a shame," Gary said before he could stop himself. "Pirates had a certain... romance to them. The freedom of the seas. The pursuit of treasure. The dream of finding something precious at the end of the journey."
The merchants looked at him with confusion.
"Romance? They were criminals who murdered people."
"Some of them. But not all." Gary's voice took on a distant quality. "I've heard stories of pirates who fought for their friends. Who challenged the world itself for the sake of their dreams. Who believed that true freedom meant never compromising who you were."
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "You've heard a lot of stories about pirates, friend."
"I have." Gary smiled behind his collar. "There was one in particular. A legend about a great treasure, hidden at the end of the most dangerous sea in the world. They called it the One Piece."
"The One Piece?"
"The greatest treasure ever amassed. Left behind by a legendary pirate king who conquered the entire ocean. They say whoever finds it will become the next king of the pirates."
The merchants and bartender were staring at him now, caught up in the story despite themselves.
"And the pirates who sought it," Gary continued, warming to his subject, "they weren't just criminals. They were dreamers. Each one had a goal—to become the strongest, to map the entire world, to find a legendary fish, to create a cure for every disease. They formed crews not out of necessity, but out of friendship. Loyalty. Love."
"That's..." one of the merchants said slowly. "That's actually kind of beautiful."
"It is. The best stories often are."
Gary finished his sake and stood to leave.
"Wait," the bartender called. "Is there more? To the story?"
Gary paused at the door.
"There's always more," he said. "The story never really ends. It just finds new people to tell it."
He left the bar and returned to the night.
Behind him, the merchants and bartender sat in thoughtful silence.
"The One Piece," one of them murmured. "I like that. A treasure worth chasing."
"Makes you think, doesn't it?" another said. "About what we're chasing. What we really want."
The bartender poured himself a drink—something he rarely did—and raised it in a quiet toast.
"To the pirate king," he said. "Whoever he was."
"To the pirate king," the others echoed.
They didn't know it then, but something had changed. A seed had been planted. A story had begun to spread.
And within a year, the first pirate flag would fly over the eastern seas.
But that's another story.
Gary, completely unaware that he had just altered the course of maritime history, continued his journey.
He had a destination now—something that had occurred to him during his bar conversation. A place he remembered from the Naruto anime. A place that might hold answers, or at least interesting conversations.
The Land of Whirlpools. Uzushiogakure. Home of the Uzumaki clan.
In canon, the village was destroyed before Naruto's time, its people scattered across the world. But this was the past—the era of the Second Shinobi War. Uzushio might still exist. The Uzumaki might still be there.
And if they are, Gary thought, they might know something about sealing. About power. About how I came to be in this world.
It was a long shot. The Uzumaki specialized in fuinjutsu—sealing techniques—not interdimensional travel. But they were also known for their knowledge of esoteric arts, their longevity, and their connection to things beyond normal understanding.
Worth a try, Gary decided. Better than aimless wandering.
The journey to Uzushio took two weeks. The Land of Whirlpools was isolated—an island nation protected by massive whirlpools that made naval approach nearly impossible. Gary solved this problem by walking on the water, his mochi feet spreading into platforms that glided over the surface like skis.
The whirlpools were impressive. Massive spirals of churning water that would have destroyed any normal ship. Gary passed through them without difficulty, his body simply reforming whenever the waves tried to tear him apart.
Logia powers are cheating, he thought cheerfully. Best decision the cosmic bureaucracy ever made.
He reached the island by sunset.
Uzushiogakure was beautiful.
Unlike Konoha, which was hidden within forests, Uzushio was built on the coast—a city of elegant towers and curving architecture, all painted in shades of red and orange that caught the fading sunlight like fire. The Uzumaki spiral was everywhere: on flags, on buildings, on the very stones of the street.
And standing at the dock, waiting for him, was a welcoming committee.
They knew I was coming, Gary realized. Sensory abilities. The Uzumaki were always good at those.
There were about twenty of them—shinobi in red-and-white uniforms, arranged in a defensive formation. But their postures weren't hostile. Just cautious.
And at their center stood a woman who made Gary's breath catch.
She was old—ancient, really, her face lined with decades of life and experience. But she carried herself with the grace of a queen and the power of a hurricane. Her hair was pure white, styled in an elaborate arrangement that spoke of tradition and status.
And her chakra...
Gary's Observation Haki nearly screamed at the contact.
Her chakra was immense. Not just large—vast. Deep. And there was something within it—something contained, something restrained, something that roared with barely leashed fury.
The Nine-Tailed Fox, Gary realized. Kurama. She's a jinchuuriki.
This was Mito Uzumaki. The wife of the First Hokage. The woman who had sealed the Kyuubi within herself decades ago. A living legend of the shinobi world.
Gary had not expected to meet her.
"You are Katakuri," Mito said. Her voice was soft but carried easily across the distance. "The one with the billion-ryo bounty. The one who killed Hanzo."
"I am."
"And you have come to my village. Why?"
Gary considered his answer carefully. Mito Uzumaki was not someone to be trifled with. She was powerful, wise, and almost certainly capable of seeing through any deception.
Honesty, he decided. As much as I can give.
"I am lost," Gary said. "Not physically—spiritually. I do not know my place in this world. I do not know my purpose. I thought perhaps the Uzumaki, with your knowledge of sealing and esoteric arts, might have insights that others lack."
Mito studied him for a long moment. Her eyes—still sharp despite her age—seemed to pierce through his mochi form to something beneath.
"You are not from this world," she said.
It wasn't a question.
Gary's heart stopped.
How does she—
"I can sense it," Mito continued. "Your chakra—if it can even be called that—is wrong. Alien. It does not belong here." She tilted her head slightly. "The being sealed within me confirms this. He has never sensed anything like you. And he is very, very old."
Kurama told her, Gary realized. The Nine-Tails can sense that I don't belong.
So much for keeping secrets.
"You are correct," Gary admitted. "I am not from this world. I arrived here through circumstances beyond my control. I have been trying to find my place ever since."
Mito nodded slowly. "And you have been doing a poor job of it. You leave chaos in your wake, Katakuri. Stories spread about you—some fearful, some admiring. You have changed the course of a war. You have made enemies of powers that should never have noticed your existence."
"I did not intend—"
"Intent matters little. Effect is what shapes the world." Mito's expression softened slightly. "But I do not sense malice in you. Only confusion. Loneliness. A desperate desire to belong somewhere."
Gary said nothing. She was right. She was painfully, embarrassingly right.
"Come," Mito said, turning toward the village. "You will be our guest. We will talk, and perhaps I can offer some guidance. The Uzumaki have always had an affinity for things that do not belong."
She paused, glancing back at him.
"Besides," she added with a slight smile, "my granddaughter has been pestering me about meeting you ever since the rumors reached our shores. She is... enthusiastic."
Granddaughter? Gary thought. Who would that—
Before he could complete the thought, a blur of red erupted from the village gates.
"GRANDMOTHER! IS THAT HIM?! IS THAT THE MOCHI GUY?!"
A girl—no, a young woman, probably in her late teens—came skidding to a halt in front of Gary. She had brilliant red hair that fell to her waist, violet eyes that sparkled with excitement, and a grin that could have powered a small city.
"WOW! You're even bigger than the stories said! And your hair! It's almost as red as mine! And your—"
"Kushina," Mito said firmly. "Compose yourself."
The young woman—Kushina—took a deep breath, visibly reining in her excitement. It didn't work very well.
"Right. Right. Composure. I am composed." She was vibrating in place like an overexcited puppy. "Hello! I'm Kushina Uzumaki! Future greatest kunoichi ever! Nice to meet you, dattebane!"
Gary stared at her.
Kushina Uzumaki.
Naruto's mother.
The future wife of the Fourth Hokage.
The woman who is supposed to be living in Konoha right now, meeting Minato Namikaze, falling in love, and eventually giving birth to the protagonist of this entire franchise.
What is she doing HERE?
His Observation Haki offered an answer he didn't want.
Kushina was looking at him with interest. Intense interest. The kind of interest that a young woman showed when she found something—or someone—fascinating.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
This cannot be happening.
I cannot be accidentally interfering with Naruto's parents' love story.
THE TIMELINE. WHAT ABOUT THE TIMELINE?!
"Katakuri-san?" Kushina was waving her hand in front of his face. "Are you okay? You kind of went pale. Can mochi people go pale? I have so many questions!"
I have to leave, Gary thought frantically. I have to leave immediately. Before I do any more damage. Before I accidentally prevent the birth of the main character.
But his legs wouldn't move. His brain was too busy short-circuiting.
Kushina is supposed to be in Konoha. She's supposed to meet Minato when she's young. They're supposed to grow up together, fall in love, get married. That's how the story goes.
But she's HERE. In Uzushio. Looking at ME with those sparkly eyes.
What did I do wrong?
The answer, he realized with dawning horror, was probably "everything."
His journey through this world hadn't been consequence-free. He had killed Hanzo, ending the war early. He had introduced the concept of pirates to a world that had forgotten them. He had formed relationships with people who should have been focusing on other things.
The butterfly effect, Gary thought. I've been causing butterflies everywhere. And now those butterflies have apparently prevented Kushina from being where she needs to be.
I might have just accidentally un-existed Naruto.
THE MAIN CHARACTER.
I UN-EXISTED THE MAIN CHARACTER.
"You really don't look okay," Kushina said, peering at him with concern. "Grandmother, I think we broke him."
"He is merely overwhelmed," Mito said calmly. "Give him time to adjust. The journey here was likely strenuous."
THE JOURNEY?! I MIGHT HAVE JUST DESTROYED THE ENTIRE FUTURE! THAT'S SLIGHTLY MORE STRESSFUL THAN A TRIP ACROSS THE OCEAN!
Gary took a deep breath. Then another. Then a third.
Okay, he thought. Okay. Calm down. Think this through.
Kushina is here now. That's a fact. But that doesn't mean she can never go to Konoha. She could still meet Minato. She could still fall in love with him. The timeline might still be salvageable.
I just have to make sure she doesn't develop any... attachments... to me.
Should be easy. She's just met me. She's just excited because I'm new and interesting. That will fade.
Right?
RIGHT?
"So," Kushina said, falling into step beside him as Mito led them toward the village, "tell me EVERYTHING about you! Where are you from? How did you get so big? What's the deal with the mochi? Can you make anything? Can you make a cake? I really want cake!"
She's very energetic, Gary thought weakly. Very enthusiastic.
Very not-focusing-on-me would be great.
"I am from far away," Gary said, trying to keep his responses short. "I have a unique ability. Yes, I can make cake. No, I will not make cake."
"WHAT?! Why not?!"
"I do not make cakes for people I have just met."
"But we're not strangers anymore! We're friends! Right? We're friends now?"
Kushina was looking up at him with those violet eyes, her expression hopeful and earnest and completely, totally devastating.
Minato, Gary thought desperately. Please exist. Please be wherever you are, getting stronger, preparing to meet this girl and sweep her off her feet.
Because if you don't exist, I don't know what's going to happen to this timeline.
Or to me.
Inside Mito Uzumaki, sealed behind barriers of chakra and fuinjutsu, the Nine-Tailed Fox stirred.
WHAT, Kurama thought, IS THAT THING?
He had sensed many things in his long existence. He had felt the chakra of the Sage of Six Paths himself. He had witnessed the birth and death of nations. He had fought enemies that would make most beings weep with terror.
But he had never sensed anything like Katakuri.
The creature—man? entity?—was wrong. Its energy didn't flow like chakra. It didn't feel like natural energy or sage energy or even the twisted mockery of energy that the Tailed Beasts themselves possessed.
It felt like it came from somewhere else entirely. Another world. Another reality. A place where the rules were different.
IT DOESN'T BELONG HERE, Kurama growled inside his cage. IT'S AN ANOMALY. AN ERROR IN THE FABRIC OF EXISTENCE.
And yet, there it was. Walking through Uzushio. Talking to Kushina.
Kushina.
Kurama's hatred flared. The girl was destined to become his next prison—he had seen it in the threads of fate that even he could occasionally perceive. She would be taken to Konoha, would become a jinchuuriki, would spend her life containing his power against her will.
He hated her for that future. Hated her for a destiny neither of them had chosen.
But now...
Now there was an anomaly. A variable that hadn't existed before.
INTERESTING, Kurama thought. VERY INTERESTING.
He settled back in his cage and watched through Mito's senses.
Whatever happened next, it would not be boring.
The tour of Uzushio took the rest of the afternoon.
Kushina had appointed herself as Gary's personal guide, which meant she never stopped talking. She showed him the Academy, where young Uzumaki learned sealing techniques. She showed him the Archives, where ancient scrolls contained knowledge accumulated over centuries. She showed him the training grounds, the market district, the residential areas, the—
"And THIS is my favorite ramen stand! Old man Teuchi's great-grandfather started it! The noodles are AMAZING, dattebane!"
Gary found himself being dragged toward a small shop that smelled of pork and spices. He had to duck significantly to enter, even in his compressed form.
"Kushina-chan!" the elderly owner called. "Back again? And you've brought a guest!"
"This is Katakuri! He's from far away and he's super powerful and he can make mochi and I'm going to convince him to make me cake!"
"You are not," Gary said.
"I AM!"
Despite himself, Gary felt his lips twitch toward a smile.
She's impossible, he thought. Completely impossible. She just bowled over every attempt I made to stay distant.
...I can see why Minato fell for her.
WHICH IS WHY MINATO NEEDS TO MEET HER.
SOON.
They ate ramen—Gary discovered that his mochi body could process food normally, which was a relief—while Kushina peppered him with questions. Most of them were about his abilities. Some were about his appearance. A few were uncomfortably personal.
"So do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Or a... significant whatever?"
Gary choked on his noodles.
"No."
"Really? But you're so—" Kushina gestured vaguely at his everything. "—you know. Strong and mysterious and stuff."
"That does not automatically translate to romantic relationships."
"It should! If I were as cool as you, I'd have all the boyfriends!"
"How many is 'all the boyfriends'?"
"I don't know! Like... five? Is that too many?"
Gary had no response to this.
Later, after the ramen was finished and the sun had fully set, Mito summoned Gary to her private chambers for the discussion she had promised.
The room was elegant but understated—filled with scrolls and sealing materials, clearly a working space as much as a living one. Mito sat on a cushion, gesturing for Gary to take a position across from her.
"My granddaughter is taken with you," Mito said without preamble.
Gary winced. "I noticed."
"This concerns you."
"It concerns me greatly."
Mito studied him with those ancient, knowing eyes. "Why? Kushina is a remarkable young woman. Powerful, spirited, destined for great things. Most men would be flattered by her attention."
Because she's supposed to marry someone else, Gary thought. Because she's supposed to give birth to the hero who saves the world. Because my existence is already screwing up the timeline enough without me accidentally becoming her love interest.
He couldn't say any of that.
"I am not looking for romantic attachment," he said instead. "And I do not believe I would be... appropriate... for someone like Kushina."
"Appropriate how?"
"I am not human. I am from another world. My existence is unstable and my future is uncertain. These are not qualities one seeks in a partner."
Mito nodded slowly. "That is a reasonable assessment. But reason rarely governs the heart. Kushina is impulsive—she follows her emotions wherever they lead. If she decides she wants something, she pursues it relentlessly."
Like a certain blonde woman I know, Gary thought grimly. Is this a pattern? Am I destined to attract obsessive redheads and blondes?
"What do you suggest I do?" he asked.
"That depends on what you want." Mito's expression was carefully neutral. "If you wish to discourage her, the kindest way is to leave quickly and not return. Distance and time are the only cures for infatuation."
Leave, Gary thought. That's what I did with Tsunade. Run away so they can heal.
But running didn't work with Tsunade. She followed me. And Kushina seems just as stubborn.
"And if leaving isn't possible?"
"Then you must be honest with her. Tell her clearly that you are not interested in a romantic relationship. Not gently—gently leaves room for hope. Clearly. Definitively."
"That seems cruel."
"It is kinder than leading her on. Kinder than letting her hope for something that will never happen." Mito's voice softened. "I speak from experience, Katakuri. In my youth, I too pursued someone who did not return my feelings. I wasted years hoping, dreaming, waiting. When I finally accepted the truth, I was able to move forward and find genuine happiness. But those years were lost. Do not let Kushina lose the same."
Gary nodded slowly. She was right. He had made the same mistake with Tsunade—being vague, being gentle, letting her interpret his words however she wanted. He couldn't repeat that error.
"I will speak with her," he said. "Tomorrow. Before I leave."
"You're leaving already?"
"I cannot stay. Every day I remain in one place, I affect the lives around me. I change things that should not be changed." Gary's voice was heavy with resignation. "I am an anomaly, as you said. I must minimize my impact."
Mito was quiet for a moment.
"That is a lonely way to live," she said finally.
"Yes."
"Is it truly necessary?"
"I believe so."
"Then I wish you well, Katakuri of the Unknown World." Mito rose gracefully. "But before you go, I would offer you one piece of advice, if you will accept it."
"I would."
"You cannot prevent change. Even by leaving, you change things. The stories you tell, the people you meet, the battles you fight—all of these leave marks on the world. There is no neutral path for someone of your power."
She walked to the window, gazing out at the village below.
"Instead of running from impact, perhaps you should consider what kind of impact you wish to make. Not accident. Not avoidance. But deliberate choice. Become the author of your own story, rather than a passive character in someone else's."
Gary considered this.
The author of my own story, he thought. I've been so focused on not screwing up someone else's story that I never thought about writing my own.
What story would I tell, if I could choose?
He didn't have an answer. But for the first time, the question felt important.
"Thank you," he said. "For your wisdom. For your hospitality. For not immediately attacking me despite my obvious strangeness."
Mito smiled. "The Uzumaki have always been strange ourselves. We recognize kindred spirits."
"I am not sure I qualify as kindred."
"Perhaps not. But you are not unwelcome, either." She turned back to face him. "Safe travels, Katakuri. And when you find the story you wish to tell, I hope it is a good one."
The next morning, Gary found Kushina waiting for him at the village gates.
She wasn't bouncing or vibrating or talking a mile a minute. She was just... standing there. Quiet. Her expression somewhere between hopeful and resigned.
She knows, Gary realized. She knows I'm leaving.
"Grandmother told you?" she asked as he approached.
"Yes. I am sorry."
"Don't be." Kushina kicked at a stone, not meeting his eyes. "I knew you weren't going to stay. You're too big for a village like this. Too big for anywhere, probably."
"That is not why I'm leaving."
"Then why?"
Gary knelt down, bringing his face closer to her level. It was a gesture he'd learned from his time with Tsunade—a way to make his massive form less intimidating.
"Kushina," he said gently. "You are remarkable. Strong, spirited, full of life. Whoever you eventually fall in love with will be very fortunate."
"But it's not going to be you."
"No. It's not."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she didn't cry. She was too proud for that, too determined to appear strong.
She really is like Tsunade, Gary thought. All that fire, all that emotion, hidden behind a mask of confidence.
"I'm going to be a great kunoichi," Kushina said, her voice slightly hoarse. "The greatest ever. And someday, when you come back, I'm going to be so amazing that you'll regret turning me down."
Gary smiled behind his collar. "I look forward to it."
"You'd better!"
She turned away quickly, hiding her face. Gary stood and began walking toward the shore.
"Katakuri!" Kushina called after him.
He paused.
"Good luck. With... whatever you're looking for. I hope you find it."
"Thank you, Kushina. I hope you find what you're looking for too."
He continued walking, leaving Uzushio behind.
Go to Konoha, he thought at her retreating form. Meet Minato. Fall in love with him. Have a beautiful blonde baby who will save the world.
Please.
For everyone's sake.
Three months later, Kushina Uzumaki transferred to Konohagakure as part of a diplomatic exchange program.
She met a quiet boy with yellow hair who told her that her red hair was beautiful.
She called him a liar and punched him in the face.
It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Five hundred miles away, Gary sensed none of this. He was too busy being ambushed by the largest group of bounty hunters yet—approximately eighty shinobi from six different nations, all working together to claim the billion-ryo prize.
"Seriously?" Gary said, looking at the small army surrounding him. "Don't you people read the Bingo Book updates? 'Do not engage' is right there in the entry."
"A billion ryo is a billion ryo," the leader—a scarred man with the headband of a missing-nin—snarled. "We've prepared for you. We've studied your abilities. This ends now."
Gary sighed.
"Fine. Let's get this over with."
Thirty seconds later, eighty shinobi were trapped in mochi cocoons, hanging from trees like extremely angry fruit.
"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!" one of them screamed at the leader.
"SHUT UP!"
Gary walked away, leaving them to sort themselves out.
The story I wish to tell, he thought. What would that even look like?
He didn't know yet.
But somewhere, in the back of his mind, an idea was beginning to form.
A story about freedom. About dreams. About finding family in unexpected places.
A story that might, if he was very lucky, have a happy ending.
The One Piece, Gary thought. I told those merchants about the One Piece.
I wonder what will come of that.
Miles behind him, on a distant shore, a young man was building a ship.
The flag he was sewing had a skull on it.
The age of pirates was about to begin.
BINGO BOOK UPDATE
KATAKURI
Bounty: 1,000,000,000 Ryo
Status: Active, Location Unknown
Recent Activity: Defeated 80 bounty hunters simultaneously. Visited Uzushiogakure (purpose unknown). Introduced concept of "pirates" to border town (??????)
Recommendation: WE GIVE UP. JUST AVOID HIM.
Additional Note: If you see him, walk the other way. Don't engage. Don't talk to him. Don't even make eye contact. He's already changed the world three times this month. Don't let him change YOU.