Chapter 15: A Day Without Monsters
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the paper windows, casting a warm honey-hued glow across the room. It was the kind of light that made the world look gentler, kinder—as if the horrors of yesterday had simply folded themselves away, tucked neatly beneath a blanket of dawn.
Naruto stirred beneath a mountain of soft futon blankets, blinking up at the wooden beams above him. For a rare and golden moment, he felt… nothing.
No crushing dread.
No world-ending decisions.
Just… quiet.
That was, until a familiar voice floated down to him, smug and sweet like syrup over pancakes.
"Well, well. Look who finally decided to stop crying like a baby and sleep like one instead."
Naruto groaned and flopped the blanket over his face.
"Tsunade… baa-chan," he mumbled, voice muffled. "I knew you were going to say something like that."
Across the room, Tsunade leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms folded and one eyebrow arched with amusement. Her golden hair was slightly mussed, and she wore the look of someone far too pleased with herself for having watched the most powerful shinobi in the world snore like a bear cub all night.
"You looked so peaceful drooling into my sleeve," she teased with a wink. "Should've taken a picture."
Naruto bolted upright, scandalised. "I didn't drool!"
"Sure," Tsunade drawled, already turning away. "And I suppose the puddle on my arm was dewfall from heaven."
Naruto sat there blinking, face slowly turning pink, and then red. But even in his embarrassment, he couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out. It felt good. Warm. Familiar.
For the first time in what felt like years—though it had only been days—his heart felt lighter. Not weightless, no, but like someone had finally helped him set his burden down for a moment. That burden would still be waiting, of course, but not this morning.
This morning… was for family.
Before he could get another word out, Iruka stormed in like a determined older brother with one mission and one mission only.
"Up! Up, up, up!" Iruka declared, pointing toward the hallway like a drill sergeant with a soft spot. "You're going to soak in the bath and you are going to like it."
Naruto blinked. "I—what? Why?"
"Because," Iruka said, practically hauling him up by the elbow, "your chakra pathways are probably twisted into knots, your muscles are as tight as a drum, and someone smells like they wrestled a wild bear in their sleep."
"That… might've been the dream," Naruto mumbled as he was dragged toward the bath.
Iruka pushed open the door to a cozy little bathhouse tucked behind the house. Steam rose gently from the tiled room, and the scent of lavender and hinoki wood wafted through the air like a lullaby. Naruto's nose twitched.
"…Did you bribe Shizune to put bath salts in here?" he asked suspiciously.
"She volunteered," Iruka said smugly. "She said your back's so stiff it's practically crying for help."
Naruto stared at the bath, then back at Iruka.
"I feel like you're all conspiring to pamper me."
"Yes," Iruka replied flatly, pushing him inside and sliding the door shut with finality. "Now bathe."
And bathe he did. Naruto sank into the hot water with a sigh that echoed off the stone walls. The heat soaked into his bones, easing away tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It was the kind of bath that made you forget that evil space parasites existed.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the symphony of a perfect breakfast was underway.
Shizune—apron donned, hair pulled up—was cooking like a woman on a mission. Eggs sizzled in a pan. Sweet rice steamed to perfection. Grilled fish crackled with just the right amount of crisp. The scent of miso soup filled the air as she set down bowls like offerings to the gods of comfort food.
Kakashi, ever the calm shadow in the corner, was peeling apples into perfectly spiraled ribbons. He wasn't even reading his book. That's how serious the atmosphere was.
Tsunade stole a dumpling off a plate and Shizune whacked her wrist with a spoon.
"Wait until everyone's seated!"
"Old habits," Tsunade said unapologetically, already chewing.
When Naruto finally emerged—fresh, pink-cheeked, and wearing a borrowed yukata far too big for him—he looked like he had just discovered the secret to immortality and it was hot water.
He blinked at the spread before him.
"…Are we celebrating something?" he asked.
Iruka clapped him on the back and guided him to the table. "Yes. We're celebrating the fact that for the first time in days, you look like you again."
Kakashi raised a teacup. "To baths, breakfast, and a strict ban on apocalyptic conversation until further notice."
"Hear, hear!" Tsunade and Shizune chorused.
Naruto blinked, stunned—but his grin spread, wide and real.
He sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and didn't even try to fight the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Not this time. This time, he let them fall as he tucked into breakfast surrounded by those who loved him.
Because if there was anything stronger than monsters, wars, and even fate…
It was a morning filled with hot food, warm laughter, and the unshakable presence of family.
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Naruto's mouth was full of rice and grilled salmon when the gears in his head started turning again—fast, bright, and dangerously hopeful. His eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in brilliant, sleep-deprived inspiration, and before anyone could stop him, he leaned forward over the breakfast table like a general mapping out a war plan.
"You know…" he began, casually waving his chopsticks like they were drawing runes in the air, "if we trained perfect jinchūriki with help from the tailed beasts, we could exponentially increase our village's defense. And if I teach Sage Mode systematically across all ninja ranks—wait, wait, hear me out—and we share jutsu openly between nations, we can create a generation of fighters who—"
"Shush."
That came from three directions at once.
Tsunade didn't even look up from her pickled plum as she lifted a hand and flicked her fingers for silence like she was swatting a mosquito. Iruka gave him the firmest, most parental teacher-stare he'd used since the Academy days. Kakashi, eyes lazily trailing his apple peel spiral, simply tapped the side of his tea cup.
"No saving the world over grilled fish," Tsunade said calmly, like it was a law carved into the mountains.
"But—!" Naruto started, sputtering rice.
Iruka reached over and gently but firmly pushed a large dumpling into his mouth. "No 'buts.' Today is a break. The world's not ending this morning."
Naruto mumbled around the dumpling, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, as Shizune breezed in with a fresh pot of tea and a look that brokered no negotiation.
"You're forbidden," she announced cheerfully, setting the pot down, "from any talk involving global alliances, dimensional crises, tailed beasts, or planetary annihilation. Tsunade-sama approved the list."
"I stamped it," Tsunade said smugly. "With my fist. Twice."
Naruto sat back, blinking, and for a moment he looked scandalized. But then something wonderful happened—he laughed. Not just a snort or a half-hearted chuckle, but a proper laugh, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest like a spring finally unstopped.
"I'm being babysat by an entire war council," he said with mock indignation, grinning.
"No," Kakashi said mildly. "You're being loved by people who are not letting you set yourself on fire for the world before breakfast is over."
"Exactly," Iruka agreed, offering him more salmon. "Now, in the spirit of absolutely no world-ending worries, we've decided to take a detour through memory lane. More specifically—Jiraiya's greatest hits."
Naruto blinked, the warmth of laughter dimming slightly as the name hit him like the soft landing of a falling leaf. Jiraiya. It still ached—sharp and sudden. But instead of turning away, he met Iruka's gaze and gave a tiny nod. He didn't want to drown in grief, not this time. He wanted to remember.
Tsunade cleared her throat theatrically. "You know, there was this one time he tried to spy on the women's bath in the Hidden Sand. The Hidden Sand. Do you know how many traps they have?"
"Oh no," Shizune groaned, covering her face with her hands.
"Oh yes," Tsunade continued, eyes sparkling. "He disguised himself as a water vendor. Forgot that the Sand has no water vendors. They nearly buried him alive. I had to dig him out myself. He was stuck upside-down for three hours."
"Weren't you the one who told the guards there was a 'suspicious vegetable merchant' snooping around?" Kakashi asked innocently.
Tsunade shrugged. "I said what I said."
Naruto giggled. The image of his pervy old mentor being mistaken for a squash merchant in the driest place on Earth was just too good.
"I remember," Iruka said, shaking his head, "when Jiraiya tried to teach Naruto the summoning jutsu. Naruto summoned a tadpole. No legs. Just a tail. It was so pathetic, even the frog blinked in confusion."
"It was called Tadapopo," Naruto said proudly. "I gave it a name."
"We remember," everyone chorused in unison.
The stories flowed after that—tales of near-arrests, mistaken identities, dramatic escapes, and the kind of hopelessly awkward wisdom only Jiraiya could dispense. Every now and then, the mood would dip, a shadow of loss flickering at the edge of someone's eyes. But it never settled. Not while they were all together. Not while they kept laughing.
Naruto clutched his tea with both hands as he listened, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers and up into his chest. Jiraiya would've loved this—being talked about over good food, surrounded by family, half-revered and half-roasted like some legendary disaster uncle.
He wasn't forgotten. He never would be.
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The sun poured like warm honey across the rooftops of Konoha, gilding the cracked tiles and broken scaffolds with soft morning gold. A breeze wandered through the newly swept streets, carrying laughter, the scent of fresh paint, and a few rogue paper shurikens flung by overenthusiastic Academy students.
Naruto walked leisurely between Iruka and Kakashi, both men calm and quiet, content in the simplicity of the morning. The village was healing—not in a dramatic, cinematic way, but in the way flowers bloom again after a harsh storm. Slowly. Gently. Inevitably.
"See that wall?" Iruka said, pointing at a line of painted koi that were a little... fishier than usual. "That was supposed to be a dedication mural."
"It is a dedication," Kakashi replied, eyeing the comically muscular fish. "To either aquatic warfare or questionable artistic ambition."
Naruto snorted, hands resting behind his head, his mood light for the first time in what felt like forever. "Hey, I think that one's me," he said, pointing at a fish with absurdly spiky fins and a big orange swirl on its side.
And then, from somewhere above them, a familiar thwip cracked the air.
"Oi! Hokage-to-be!" came a voice, equal parts mischievous and dramatic.
They looked up.
Swinging through the village with the kind of flair that would make a stage actor weep, Spider-Man—in his pitch-black Venom suit—launched off a flagpole and flipped into the air. Sticking a perfect landing on a signpost just above the dango shop, he spread his arms wide and struck a heroic pose… before getting hit square in the chest by a bright blue paint bomb.
"Ha! Got him!" shouted a small voice. "Ten points, Riku!"
Another paint bomb splattered across Spider-Man's mask, this one neon pink.
"Negative five for that color!" Spidey wailed theatrically, clutching his heart like he'd been mortally wounded. "My fashion sense!"
All around the rooftops, children were leaping, crouching, laughing. Dozens of Academy students with color-tag bombs were using Spider-Man as their personal target, and the man—no, the menace, as he proudly called himself—was practically encouraging it.
"He's helping the kids with their chakra control," Kakashi said dryly. "Roof hopping, wall walking, trajectory prediction, cooperation… and a bit of humiliation training."
"Is this sanctioned?" Iruka asked, somewhere between amused and horrified.
"I'm pretty sure he sanctioned himself," Kakashi replied.
Spider-Man swung down in a smooth arc and landed beside Naruto in a crouch, paint dripping off him like battle medals. "Hero of the world!" he announced, throwing a splattered salute. "Do you, O Mighty Defender of Peace and Bearer of Brooding Monologues, have a moment for your adoring fans?"
Naruto glanced behind him. About fifteen academy students were already creeping up the wall behind Spidey, armed with more neon-colored bombs and the energy of sugar-fueled squirrels.
He grinned.
"I always have time for my fans."
The cheer that went up from the children could probably have cracked the Hokage monument.
"Permission to be chased across the rooftops by colorful chaos goblins?" Spider-Man asked, wagging his fingers dramatically.
"Permission granted," Naruto replied, slipping into a ready stance and flaring a little chakra just to show off.
"Oh boy," Iruka muttered as Naruto vanished with a whoosh of speed.
"Welp," Spider-Man said, spinning on his heel. "You heard him! Operation: 'Tag the Hero' is a go!"
The chase began.
What followed was something between a festival game and a full-blown village-wide mission. Naruto and Spider-Man ducked and weaved through narrow alleyways, bounced off awnings, dashed across laundry lines, and took more paint bombs than either of them would admit with dignity.
Tsunade came out to yell at them once, only to be hit by a stray pink balloon. She scowled but didn't stop them. Shizune ducked behind a cart. Ayame started keeping score and betting dango on the next hit.
By the time Naruto flopped down on a rooftop, panting and grinning, covered in a rainbow of amateur ninja paint attacks, the children were sprawled in heaps of laughter beside him. Spider-Man, now a walking modern art piece, plopped down next to him and gave a satisfied sigh.
"This is good," Naruto said, quietly but happily, watching the kids. "This is… good."
"Yep," Spidey said, tipping an imaginary hat. "Turns out saving the world starts with making it smile again."
Kakashi and Iruka watched from below, hands in their pockets, eyes crinkled in warm approval.
"I guess," Iruka murmured, "you don't always need a strategy meeting or a battle plan to rebuild a village."
"Nope," Kakashi agreed. "Sometimes, all you need is a bunch of overexcited kids, some paint bombs… and a hero willing to look ridiculous for them."
They both looked up at the roof.
Naruto was laughing again. Really laughing. Covered in paint, tangled up in Spider-Man, and surrounded by children who looked at him like he'd hung the moon.