Watching the figures of the Hyuga father and daughter disappear down the street, Naruto stood there for a while. Only after they vanished around the corner did he turn and head toward his apartment on the top floor of the building.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. A familiar, slightly cool stillness washed over him.
The room was small, simply furnished.
It wasn't spotless, but it was tidy—maintaining a barely respectable appearance that could still be called home.
The only ones who came and went here regularly were Naruto himself and the Anbu tasked with monitoring him.
Those Anbu rotated shifts and never stayed inside overnight.
This place belonged to Naruto alone.
As for the Third Hokage, he only visited on rare, quiet nights—wearing formal robes, delivering the next month's living allowance, gently asking about Naruto's condition, and offering a few words of encouragement.
To the present Naruto, those brief meetings felt less like genuine concern and more like periodic checkups on a test subject.
He closed the door, shutting out the wind, the snow, and the tangled world outside.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of his own breathing.
Naruto walked to the small refrigerator and opened it. Inside were neatly arranged bottles of milk and a few simple ingredients.
He took out a bottle of chilled milk, popped the cap open with practiced ease, and tipped his head back, taking a long drink.
After placing the empty bottle in the sink, he didn't linger. He returned to the bedroom, sat cross-legged on the not-so-soft single bed, and closed his eyes.
His hands rested naturally on his knees as his breathing gradually slowed and lengthened.
Ever since transmigrating, fine chakra control had been one of the core foundations Naruto imposed on himself.
He knew exactly how terrifying his future enemies would be. Relying on raw chakra quantity alone would never be enough.
For Naruto, this world was a time-limited battlefield.
In roughly ten years, the organization known as Akatsuki would begin hunting him—the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki.
Black Zetsu would fully advance the plan to revive Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.
Obito Uchiha would push forward the Eye of the Moon Plan from the shadows.
And Madara Uchiha would await resurrection from the Pure Land.
As his consciousness settled inward, Naruto could clearly sense the warm, vigorous chakra within him—like a rising morning sun—flowing steadily through his chakra pathways.
He didn't refine it on a large scale. Instead, he focused all his attention on his fingertips.
Guided by his will, an extremely fine strand of chakra was carefully separated. He tried to maintain a stable form at his fingertips—like controlling an invisible thread—or make it pulse gently, like breathing.
The process was tedious and mentally exhausting. The slightest lapse in concentration would cause the chakra to disperse instantly.
Sweat beaded at his temples, but his expression remained intensely focused.
Because he knew this was the most indispensable and solid foundation on the road to becoming truly strong.
As a member of the Uzumaki Clan and the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, Naruto's chakra reserves vastly surpassed those of ordinary people—making precise control all the more essential.
When he finally stopped, the mental fatigue outweighed the physical strain.
Naruto exhaled slowly, leaned back, and lay down on the bed.
He didn't fall asleep.
Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to sink—like diving into deep water.
The familiar image of his room rippled and dissolved, replaced by a dark, damp space.
Shallow water covered the ground, sending out eerie ripples with each movement.
The air was heavy, saturated with an ancient, violent presence.
Straight ahead stood an enormous cage forged from thick, cold iron bars.
Behind it, in the depths of the darkness, a pair of scarlet eyes lit up—huge, lantern-like, with vertical, bestial pupils.
Then the massive form emerged.
An enormous fox with orange-red fur lay sprawled within the cage. Its mere presence exuded suffocating pressure.
Sharp fangs glinted coldly in the dim light, while the massive tails behind it swayed slowly in the confined space like burning shadows.
The Nine-Tails stared at the tiny figure outside the cage, its deep voice echoing throughout the space.
"You're here, Naruto."
"Yes. I'm here, Kurama."
Naruto replied as naturally as if greeting an old friend. He stepped forward without hesitation, stopping right before the massive iron gate.
This relationship—one that defied all common sense—had begun in an even more unbelievable way.
Shortly after Naruto's soul transmigrated into this world, his already mature consciousness had voluntarily descended into this Sealing Space for the first time.
Back then, his soul still bore the form of an infant.
He had toddled up to the massive gate, ignored the hatred and killing intent that nearly solidified the air, looked up at the violent scarlet eyes behind the bars, and clearly called out the name sealed away for a thousand years:
"Kurama."
That name was like a key.
The raging beast fell into stunned silence.
Then that infant-shaped soul, speaking with a calm and resolute tone utterly mismatched with its appearance, addressed the most dangerous "tenant" within him:
"I know you. And I know the Sage of Six Paths. If I told you that I am the Child of Prophecy he spoke of on his deathbed—the one destined to bring change and peace—would you believe me?"
That earth-shaking declaration became the beginning of countless conversations that followed.
Over the years, Naruto entered the Sealing Space day after day, speaking with the Nine-Tails. Their relationship wasn't warm or affectionate—but it was stable, even cooperative.
"Every day, you manage to bring a new topic," Kurama said, lowering its massive head slightly. Its scarlet pupils fixed on Naruto beyond the bars. "So? What is it today?"
Though its tone still carried laziness and faint impatience, the subtle swaying of its tail betrayed its true feeling.
Expectation.
Sealed in this lightless space for decades, staring at the same unchanging scenery, Kurama had long been bored beyond endurance.
Naruto's periodic intrusions—and his outrageous, often shocking questions—had become the only fresh stimulation in its long imprisonment.
Naruto sat cross-legged in front of the gate, resting his chin in one hand. After a brief pause, he looked up and asked in a calm, academic tone that nevertheless rang through the space:
"Kurama, do you think there's a chance that Wood Release isn't actually a bloodline limit—but instead… a Kekkei Tōta?"
The words struck like thunder.
Like a boulder hurled into still water, they sent waves crashing through the silent Sealing Space.
Kurama shot to its feet, fur bristling as hot breath burst from its jaws.
If you're talking about that—
Then I'm definitely not sleepy anymore.