The sun over Konoha was still at the same height as when he had left. The sounds of the village, the birdsong, the smell of ramen from Ichiraku—everything was exactly as he had left it, as if time had never moved forward in this world. But for Naruto, twelve years of cosmic evolution had passed.
His hair was a brilliant white, though he had styled it in a way that made it appear closer to its former color—an easy illusion for the rest of the world. His Eyes of Origin, however, were a deep blue, reminiscent of his old irises but with a depth and wisdom no one could begin to guess. His clothes were simple: sandals, black pants, and a dark jacket to avoid drawing attention.
"It's like time hasn't passed here at all," Natasha murmured, her voice low and filled with curiosity. She could sense the chakra in the air—a new phenomenon to her—like invisible currents surrounding everything.
"It's one of my attributes," Naruto replied. "Control over time. For them, I was only gone a few minutes."
They walked discreetly through the streets of the village. Naruto watched the shinobi, the villagers, the children playing. This was his birthplace, and yet he felt like a stranger. The sting of rejection was gone, but in its place remained a distance—a new perspective.
He headed toward the Ninja Academy, knowing Iruka would still be there, probably reviewing the day's results after the exams. As he approached the classroom, he sensed Iruka's chakra—strong and familiar. He knocked softly on the door.
"Come in!" called Iruka's voice.
Naruto opened the door and stepped inside. Iruka was sitting at his desk, hands clasped, looking thoughtful. He looked up, and his eyes landed on Naruto.
A silence fell. Iruka, usually quick to recognize his students, narrowed his eyes. The boy in front of him had familiar features, yet his aura, his appearance… it was the same, and yet so different. His hair seemed brighter, his eyes deeper. And he radiated a presence Iruka had never felt in any twelve-year-old child.
"Naruto?" Iruka asked, disbelief in his voice. "But… you just failed your exam a few minutes ago. What are you doing here? And your hair… your eyes…"
Naruto smiled. This smile was different from those he used to show in Konoha. It was calm, confident, without the slightest trace of forced cheer.
"Iruka-sensei. I'm sorry to have worried you. I… I had a rather unique experience after the exam."
He felt Natasha—still invisible beside him—hold her breath, curious how Naruto would handle the situation.
"Unique?" Iruka repeated, still puzzled. "Your chakra… it's changed. It's… immense. But controlled. I've never seen anything like it."
Naruto decided to reveal part of the truth—what Iruka could handle.
"After the exam, when I was desperate, I was… contacted. By an entity. It offered me a chance to understand the world, to grow. I spent what felt like years learning by its side. But in this world, only a few minutes passed."
---
The return to Konoha had sealed an unbreakable bond between Naruto and Natasha. The echo of Iruka-sensei's recognition, the feeling of the forehead protector against his skin—these moments had given new meaning to Naruto's existence. He was no longer just a cosmic being seeking understanding; he was a man who was loved, with a reconciled past and a future he was now building with the woman he loved.
Their daily life in New York became a silent ballet of confessions and tenderness. Their nights were filled with a gentle warmth that went far beyond physical closeness. With his cosmic senses, Naruto felt every tremor of Natasha's body, every accelerated heartbeat, every sigh of contentment. He understood that intimacy wasn't just a dance of bodies, but a fusion of souls—a place where vulnerability became strength, and mutual surrender created a space of absolute safety. Their caresses were silent symphonies, their kisses were journeys into infinity where their minds met in mutual understanding and profound affection. Every morning, waking up beside Natasha was, for Naruto, tangible proof of life's beauty—a feeling that surpassed all the wonders of the Omniverse.
For Natasha, Naruto's presence was an anchor. The walls she had built, stone by stone through a life of secrets and danger, had crumbled beneath Naruto's pure, loving gaze. With him, she could simply be Natasha, without masks or deception. In his arms, she found refuge; in his eyes, a depth that understood her without a word. Their growing intimacy was a language without speech—filled with reassuring touches, deep glances, and the certainty that they were there for each other, body and soul, in perfect balance between Naruto's cosmic power and Natasha's human strength.
Yet, in the midst of this newfound happiness, another thought began to form in Naruto's mind—a vast and daring idea, fueled by his experience with the Source and the love he felt for Natasha and Iruka. He had the power to heal, to restore, to give. So why not use it for those who had been lost? Why not create a place where hatred and prejudice had no home?
One evening, as they dined quietly, Naruto placed his hand gently over Natasha's.
"Natasha," he said, "I have an idea. It's bold—maybe even crazy—but I think it's the right path."
Natasha nodded, encouraging him.
"I'm listening, cosmic one. Nothing's crazy when it comes to you."
"I can bring back the dead," Naruto said, his voice calm, but his Origin Eyes gleaming with new determination. "Not just revive them—but restore their souls, their memories, their essence. The Source showed me how to reweave the threads of existence."
Natasha held her breath. It was a power beyond human understanding.
"Who… who would you bring back?"
"My parents. The entire Uzumaki clan, who were massacred. Mito Uzumaki, the First Hokage's wife. And Hashirama Senju himself, the First Hokage—and his brother Tobirama, the Second. Nawaki Senju, Tsunade's brother. The entire Uchiha clan, as it was before its destruction. And Iruka-sensei's parents," Naruto listed, each name pronounced with solemn weight.
"These lives were lost unjustly, or their potential was never fully realized. I want to give them a second chance. And I want to create a home for them—a place where they can live in peace, far from old conflicts."
Natasha listened, the magnitude of the project overwhelming.
"That's a colossal endeavor, Naruto. It will change the balance of the ninja world."
"That's the intention. I don't want a world of hate and war anymore. I want to build something new. A refuge. And I want them to follow me. I want to found my own faction—based on understanding, strength, and peace."
He looked at her, his eyes searching for her approval.
"And I want you by my side, Natasha. Always."
"Always," she replied without hesitation, squeezing his hand.
"But I have to be there too—you know—to see it with my own eyes."
The next day, Naruto and Natasha returned once more to Konoha, at the exact spot they had left the day before. This time, Naruto used no illusion. His brilliant white hair and Origin Eyes, glowing blue with cosmic undertones, were on full display. He wore his forehead protector proudly.
They headed straight for the memorial of the fallen heroes—a sacred place where the names of the dead were engraved. Sensing Naruto's immense chakra, Iruka-sensei soon joined them, his face filled with respectful awe.
"Naruto," Iruka said, his gaze lingering on the power radiating from the young man. "You've returned."
"Yes, Iruka-sensei. And I came to accomplish something important," Naruto replied. He turned toward Natasha, then toward the memorial.
"I'm going to bring back the dead. Those who were lost unjustly, and those whose wisdom can help build a better future."
Iruka was stunned.
"Bring back the dead? That's… that's impossible!"
"Not for me, Iruka-sensei," Naruto said with a bittersweet smile.
"I can reweave the threads of life."
He extended his hands toward the memorial, his Origin Eyes becoming true vortices of light. The energy of the Source surged through him—a pure torrent of creation. Beams of light shot out from the engraved names, diving into the earth and stretching across Konoha, toward distant battlefields and forgotten cemeteries. It was a breathtaking spectacle—a blend of pure light and whispering souls being called home.