Chapter 2: The Pie in the Sky Problem
Naruto's phone was lighting up like a firework factory gone rogue. Names kept popping into the mysterious group chat: Hybrid, Neo One for All, ShadowHunter93, even something ridiculous like HotGuy1999 (Naruto made a mental note to definitely prank that one later).
Most of the names just sat there, like ghosts at a party who didn't realize the music had started. Nobody was saying anything. Well, except Naruto, who was happily spamming more tips, tricks, and life-changing advice like an over-caffeinated sensei with no mute button.
Meanwhile, across dimensions, one spiky-haired teenager was about to lose it.
Ichigo Kurosaki had been having a perfectly normal night. Which, for him, meant stretched out on his bed, earphones blasting music loud enough to make neighbors question his sanity, while reading Hajime no Ippo for the thousandth time. (Don't judge. Some people reread Shakespeare. Ichigo preferred punches to the face. Same thing, basically.)
Then his phone went ding-ding-ding-ding-ding.
At first, Ichigo ignored it. Probably spam. Maybe Yuzu sending him another list of groceries he'd forget to buy. But the dings kept coming, like an angry woodpecker pecking his brain.
"Who the hell is spamming at this hour?" he muttered, yanking off his headphones.
When he checked, his phone displayed a brand-new group chat he didn't remember joining. And there it was: a flood of messages, diagrams, step-by-step training advice, and motivational one-liners that sounded like they'd been ripped from a martial arts coach and a dad who gave way too many pep talks.
Ichigo's first thought: Scam.
Second thought: Damn, this scammer actually knows his stuff.
He scrolled. And scrolled. The instructions were legit. The fighting stances looked professional. Some of the poses he recognized from karate or judo, others he didn't even have names for. The schedules? More detailed than anything he'd seen online. And believe him, he'd done his research. He'd spent years reading manuals, watching grainy martial arts videos, memorizing the way pros moved.
Ichigo squinted at the sender: Lord Seventh.
"Who the hell is Lord Seventh? Some pro fighter? Some weird European guy? He looks like one of those flashy overseas champs…"
Naruto's profile picture—bright orange clothes, that giant hat, and the… okay, was that a monster looming behind him?—didn't help.
Ichigo rubbed his temples. "Great. Either I just got recruited into a fight club, or this is some next-level prank."
But the thing was… it didn't feel fake. The advice was too solid. Too precise. No scammer gave you a free masterclass like this unless they were trying to steal your soul. And Ichigo had enough problems with soul-related weirdness, thank you very much.
His heart itched with curiosity. Could I message him? Maybe even meet him? If he's the real deal… he could actually show me moves I've never seen before.
Ichigo chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Like some random fighter's gonna just show up in Karakura."
Still, the thought clung to him like static electricity.
He dropped the phone on his nightstand, muttering, "I'll talk to him tomorrow. It's already late."
He glanced at the clock. 11 p.m. Great. School in the morning. Another day of dragging himself through boring lectures while half the class whispered about his stupid orange hair.
But for the first time in a while, Ichigo didn't feel completely weighed down. Someone out there—some mysterious "Lord Seventh"—was throwing out breadcrumbs of wisdom. And if Ichigo followed them?
Maybe, just maybe, something interesting would finally happen.
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Issei:
If there was one thing Issei Hyoudou believed in with the burning passion of a thousand suns, it was this: thou shalt not interrupt a man's sacred ritual of observing bouncing greatness. Unfortunately, fate—or worse, a notification sound—decided otherwise.
"Bloody shit, I will murder the bastard," Issei snarled, because of course the universe had chosen that exact moment to test his patience. His face twisted in outrage, and his so-called little general (don't ask) was equally displeased.
Now, in case you're wondering, Issei was not your classic hero material. He wasn't tall, handsome, or brooding in the corner with a sword like a certain someone named Ichigo. No, Issei was firmly parked in the "special crowd" category at Kuoh Academy. The kind of guy whose reputation preceded him like a bad cologne, and not in a cool way. People avoided him with the same urgency they avoided pop quizzes, rabid dogs, or gym teachers who said, "Today we're running laps."
But hey, Issei had his strengths. Short spiky brown hair? Check. Average build? Check. Obsession with breasts so legendary he'd branded himself the Oppai Dragon online? Double check. He was a man of culture.
So when his phone pinged with a new group chat, he wasn't thinking destiny. He was thinking, Oh great, more spam about enlarging things that don't need enlarging.
Still, curiosity won out. He tapped the screen.
The first thing he noticed? The names. A whole list of them. Some were normal, some sounded like they belonged in a fantasy novel, and a disturbing number clearly belonged to females who were—let's not sugarcoat it—blazing hot. His eyes bulged. His jaw dropped. His heart performed the cha-cha.
"No way," he whispered, scrolling furiously, his grin growing wider with every swipe. His imagination supplied images his brain had no business supplying. "They're all girls. Gorgeous girls. In one group."
He was about to exit, because obviously this had to be some cosmic mistake, when common sense did a flying dropkick to the back of his head.
"I think I'll stick around…" Issei muttered, his grin morphing into the kind of expression that would get him arrested in at least five countries. "…for research purposes."
And that was the exact moment the universe facepalmed and muttered, Why did we let him in here again?
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Naruto:
Being the strongest person on the planet sounded cool on paper. In practice? It was boring.
Naruto Uzumaki had saved the world (several times), defeated literal gods, and even survived paperwork as the Hokage. At this point, there weren't many challenges left besides deciding what kind of ramen to eat for dinner.
But the universe? That was a different story. Naruto could feel it out there—vast, buzzing with energy, like a festival waiting just beyond the gates. New worlds, new enemies, maybe even food that didn't taste like Ichiraku's ramen (though why anyone would want that was beyond him).
The problem? He couldn't leave. Not because he didn't want to—trust me, the guy was already halfway to packing snacks and jumping into space—but because every time he imagined stepping off Earth, his brain showed him his village disappearing in flames while he was gone.
That kind of ruins the mood.
So he stayed. For his people. For his family. For Boruto (even if his kid currently thought Naruto was about as cool as a soggy rice ball).
Still, just because he couldn't explore the galaxy didn't mean he sat around twiddling his thumbs. No, Naruto had found… other ways to keep busy.
For one, he invented his own personal nightmare dimension. That's right. While most people spent their free time fishing or napping, Naruto created a pocket universe with crushing gravity, endless storms, and a bunch of rampaging elemental beasts. Why? Because apparently, normal hobbies weren't extreme enough.
Inside this realm, his clones fought nonstop battles. One-on-one duels. Hundred-vs-one brawls. Clone battle royales. Sometimes they even split into teams and had tournaments, complete with trash talk that echoed in Naruto's head at three in the morning.
It was training on a level so insane that if anyone else tried it, they'd be paste in seconds. For Naruto, though? It was Tuesday.
The problem was… he was still too strong. Stronger than Kaguya. Stronger than anyone on Earth. He wasn't cocky about it—Naruto wasn't the type to say, "Ha, I'm invincible!" while flexing his muscles at the sky—but he knew. And when you're the only one at the top of the mountain, there's not much left to do except… fight yourself.
Which he did. Constantly.
"I wonder what he's doing," Naruto muttered one night, hands behind his head as he strolled through the village. Citizens waved at him, eyes wide with admiration. They were looking at a living legend, practically a god in human skin. Which was nice… and also kind of lonely.
Naruto smiled anyway. "Bet that bastard's hogging all the fun again. Hasn't checked in for a month."
By "that bastard," he meant Sasuke. Because of course Naruto had delegated the whole space-exploration gig to him and Toneri. If Naruto couldn't leave the planet, at least he could send his grumpiest best friend and a moon hermit to check out the stars.
Some people had armies. Naruto had subordinates scouring the galaxy. Same thing, really.
But as he stared up at the night sky—so wide, so endless—it was hard not to think of it as a giant, delicious pie just out of reach. And Naruto? He was on a diet he never asked for.
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Sasuke:
You'd think after fighting immortals, monsters, interdimensional nightmares, and one really cranky duck (long story), Sasuke Uchiha would have earned himself a vacation. But no. Nope. He was currently on a planet the size of the sun, with the gravity of a bad mood and the aesthetics of a rock concert designed by an angry volcano.
Naturally, the place was crawling with monsters.
Not your usual "teeth and claws" monsters either. These were abominations. Sasuke spotted things that looked like a gorilla made entirely out of granite, a bird made of thunderclouds, and something that might've been a goat—if goats were made of molten lava and had glowing fangs.
So yeah, nightmare fuel.
And of course, Sasuke knew exactly whose fault this was.
"Damn that asshole," he muttered, slicing through what appeared to be a scorpion with way too many tails. Naruto. It was always Naruto. If there was a weird, dangerous, probably-exploding adventure somewhere in the universe, you could bet your chakra reserves that Naruto had sent him there.
'That bastard has a screw loose,' Sasuke thought while his sword deflected a blast of lightning from the sky-bird. 'No one enjoys this kind of insanity but him. Did he send me to explore, or just to fight things until I lose my mind?'
The worst part? This had been going on for weeks. The monsters didn't stop. The attacks didn't stop. And the only thing keeping Sasuke alive was a terrifying mixture of skill, stubbornness, and sheer spite.
The exit from the planet? Yeah, blocked. By something so huge Sasuke hadn't even figured out if it had a face. Or several. Honestly, he was too busy not dying to ask.
"I swear," Sasuke growled as he slashed through another beast and leapt over a fissure in the cracking ground, "when I get back, I am telling Hinata."
That was Sasuke's ultimate threat. He couldn't kill Naruto—tried that once, didn't stick—but if he tattled to Hinata? Oh, Naruto was doomed.
The monsters roared in chorus, like they understood the drama of the moment. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the sky split open with jagged lightning. Sasuke adjusted his sword, Sharingan blazing like twin headlights of fury.
"This," he muttered, "is why I hate family trips."
Then he launched himself back into the chaos, because if Naruto was going to send him into a death trap, he was at least going to survive long enough to make him regret it.
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Naruto;
Naruto Uzumaki, Hero of the Fourth Shinobi War, Seventh Hokage, Guardian of the World, and occasional ramen addict, stepped through the front door of the Uzumaki Clan house and muttered the most heroic line of his life:
"I'm home."
Now, if you were expecting his house to be some sprawling Japanese castle with paper doors, gardens the size of football fields, and servants bowing every five seconds, you'd be wrong. Naruto had taken one look at the traditional blueprints and gone, Nope.
So instead, the Uzumaki clan home looked… modern. Like, "someone in Konoha discovered IKEA" modern. Two stories. Six bedrooms. A garden (because Hinata insisted). A basement (because Naruto insisted—don't ask). And way too many bathrooms, because apparently being Hokage meant you needed five.
"Welcome back, dear," Hinata called, stepping out of the living room with a smile that could make the grumpiest Akatsuki member reconsider their life choices. "Would you like to eat or take a bath?"
Naruto grinned like a kid caught with extra ramen money. "Hehe, I need you, my adorable princess. Let's take a bath together."
Before Hinata could react, he scooped her into his arms like they were living in a cheesy romance novel.
"D-Dear!" she gasped, in that half-chiding, half-melting tone only Hinata could pull off.
"No need to worry," Naruto whispered in her ear, his grin widening. "The kids are busy playing that VR ninja training thing. We've got some… adult time."
Now, Naruto may have been the strongest being on the planet, maybe even the galaxy, but the way Hinata shivered at his words? Yeah, that made him feel invincible all over again.
Cue the dramatic, passionate kiss. Cue the warm embrace. Cue Naruto thinking the honeymoon phase was never going to end. Honestly, for a guy who could casually punch meteors into dust, this was his real power-up.
Of course, that's when someone cleared their throat.
"Ahem."
Naruto froze, lowering Hinata like he'd just been caught sneaking snacks from the fridge.
Standing there, arms crossed and expression decidedly not amused, was Shion. Priestess of the Land of Demons. Occasional lifesaver. Frequent thorn in Naruto's side.
"Shion," Naruto said, plastering on his most innocent grin.
"Darling," she muttered in annoyance, "you could at least pretend to love us equally. Or do you have to make it obvious every time Hinata walks into the room?"
Naruto scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Would you really like me to lie? Honesty's a big deal in relationships, you know. I do love Hinata the most. But I love you too, or else we wouldn't be here."
Shion narrowed her eyes. "Because I look like Hinata and your libido?"
Naruto's smile dropped. "Shion, don't. You know that's not true. I'm a seal master. I can literally seal away my own human instincts if I wanted to. Lust, hunger, you name it. I don't see you as a substitute. You're different—chakra, personality, style—everything."
There was a tense pause. Then Shion smirked. "You perv. That was definitely a jab at my chest, wasn't it?"
Naruto burst out laughing, the tension dissolving. Shion swatted him playfully, Hinata giggled despite herself, and suddenly the serious moment had turned into one of those chaotic "only in the Uzumaki household" evenings.
And if Naruto happened to scoop Shion up next and declare something about "equal attention" before heading upstairs with both of them, well—Hinata's exasperated sigh said it all:
Life with Naruto Uzumaki was never, ever boring.
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"Where is Mother?"
Leona's voice cut through the silence of Boruto's room like a kunai through paper. Boruto—who had been lying on his bed pretending to study but actually doodling stick-figure battles of himself defeating Sasuke—sat up with the expression of someone caught stealing cookies.
"I think you should know by now what happens when adults talk," Boruto said, trying to sound mysterious and wise. (Spoiler: he failed miserably.) "They're… busy. But if you're desperate, you can always chat with Father's clone. Just press that button."
He pointed at a sleek control pad on the desk, like it was the most normal thing in the world that their dad had clone hotline tech lying around.
Leona stepped into the light. At fifteen, she had the kind of presence that made people straighten their backs. Light blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, tall stature—basically, she could've been a Valkyrie stepping out of a war saga. She wore her signature combo: tank top, military pants, boots. Practical, deadly, terrifying. She was the type of person who'd bring knives to a dinner party, "just in case."
Her brother, on the other hand, was still deciding whether or not he liked pineapple on pizza.
"I see," Leona muttered, hand on her chin, looking thoughtful. "They are engaged in sexual activities."
Boruto's brain short-circuited. "Sis! No. Just—no. Did you have to spell it out?!"
Unfortunately, imagination is a cruel weapon. The words painted mental images Boruto did not need. He gagged, turned green, and bolted for the nearest window like the room had suddenly filled with toxic gas.
"Fresh air! Must. Escape!" he gasped as he launched himself out into the yard.
Leona watched him go with a small, utterly calm smile. The kind of smile that said Yes, everything is going according to plan. My chaos powers grow stronger every day.
"Little brother still hasn't grown up, it seems," she mused aloud.
Then, mission accomplished, she returned to her own room. Inside, Sarada, Chocho, and Himawari were already gathered around the prototype VR system, squealing with laughter and arguing over whose turn it was to fight the digital dragon boss.