In a crackle of lightning and the scent of ozone, Naruto and Namori reappeared just outside a familiar building nestled near the edge of Konoha's bustling heart. The second his boots hit the pavement, Naruto tilted his head up, eyes scanning the rounded, rust-toned apartment complex that stood like a stubborn relic among newer, shinier buildings.
To most, it looked like nothing special—honestly, it wasn't. Weather-worn paint peeled along the cracked concrete walls, and the clay-red roofing tiles had long since faded from years of sun, rain, and time. Electrical wires hung in tangled loops above like a lazy spider's web, buzzing faintly in the afternoon warmth. Metal water tanks glinted half-heartedly on the roof, lopsided and a little rusty. Somewhere down the block, the familiar scent of soy broth and fried dumplings from the ramen stand drifted on the breeze, making Naruto's stomach growl in spite of everything.
But to him... this place was freedom.
He took a deep, steady breath, letting the stale city air fill his lungs. The weight of the Uzukaze compound slipped off his shoulders like a suffocating cloak finally shrugged free. This building didn't care about bloodlines or titles. It didn't whisper behind his back or measure his worth by a prophecy. No one here gave a damn that he wasn't "the chosen one." It was small, run-down, and half the time the plumbing rattled like an old man with a cough—but it was his.
He glanced to the side. Namori stood quiet, eyes flicking over the building's uneven edges and weathered windows like she was etching the image into her memory. A soft, wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased.
"It's not much," Naruto said, voice low but proud. "But it's home."
The two of them made their way to the entrance. That old green metal door was still there, all chipped and faded, with a big scratch down the middle. The moment Naruto stepped up to it, the hinges creaked in greeting—as if even the building knew he was back.
The inside wasn't much different. Pale orange glows from the flickering hallway lights illuminated the dingy walls. The stairs groaned under their weight, and Naruto could practically hear old lady Mitsune upstairs readying her slippers to chuck at him if he got too loud again. But he didn't care. For the first time in a long time, he was bringing someone he cared about into his world. Not the version they all wanted him to be—but who he chose to be.
They stopped at the very end of the hallway, in front of his apartment door. It wasn't in the best shape—faded paint, a bent handle, and a small burn mark that looked suspiciously like an old fire jutsu accident—but Naruto smirked.
"Don't let appearances fool you," he muttered, reaching into his pocket.
Among his keys was one that didn't belong to any normal lock. Its edges shimmered faintly, carved with glowing arcane runes that pulsed in steady rhythm. A gift born of ancient sorcery and stolen wisdom—courtesy of the Time Stone and one very peculiar man named Doctor Stephen Strange.
Sliding the key into the lock, a soft pulse of blue energy rippled out across the door. Namori blinked as the air shimmered, the barrier flickering briefly before stabilizing with a low hum.
Naruto pushed the door open—and stepped into a space that really shouldn't have existed.
He walked in slowly, taking a moment to let the familiar warmth of the room settle around him like a favorite old hoodie. Still surreal, honestly—how something so sleek, so impossibly futuristic, could feel so right. His boots made no sound on the rune-inlaid wooden floor, which gave off a faint glow beneath his steps, pulsing with chakra as it synced with his energy like a heartbeat.
The room opened up into a wide, elegant sprawl—modern design woven together with unmistakable touches of magic. Towering windows let in soft, natural light, and the enchanted curtains shifted transparency with the time of day—or depending on Naruto's mood. Right now, the view beyond them shimmered between a forest clearing and a projection of the afternoon sky over Konoha.
Cool, fresh air drifted through the room, subtly scented with sandalwood—his favorite. The scent was released from a levitating orb near the ceiling, gently rotating like a second moon.
A massive sectional couch in storm-gray fabric curled along the living room like a lazy snake. The cushions weren't just comfortable—they were spelled to adjust perfectly to anyone who flopped down, which Naruto did often. One of the throw pillows shimmered with chakra-sensitive fabric, currently swirling with the soft golden-green tones of Namori's aura.
In front of the couch were two coffee tables—one grounded and solid, made from chakra-forged black steel, and the other levitating just above it, carved from pale marble that caught the light and shimmered with faint blues and silvers. It wasn't just furniture—the marble surface doubled as a holographic interface. With a tap or flick, it displayed mission maps, comm feeds, or Naruto's not-so-secret ramen order history.
To the right, a massive holo screen stretched across the obsidian-black wall. It wasn't hooked up to any tech in the traditional sense—just tuned into the Mirror Dimension's data stream. Naruto flicked his wrist, and the screen lit up, revealing a paused 3D simulation of a shinobi battlefield, mid-explosion. With a thought, he could zoom, rotate, or replay moments. Vision had helped him set it up—part training tool, part entertainment center, part "what-if" analysis engine.
Tucked into one corner, a chakra-reactive plant floated gently above its pot, turning slowly to follow the magical light source above. One of Vision's weird-but-useful gifts, designed to help with meditation. Naruto didn't use it much, but Namori swore by it.
The kitchen bled seamlessly into the living space, all clean lines and sleek panels. Most of it looked like high-end modern cabinetry—but beneath the dark woodgrain were chakra-powered appliances, voice-commanded food processors, and cookers that could respond to simple hand signs. Naruto had torched too many meals as a kid to risk cooking without backup. Now, at least, his toast didn't explode.
The whole place radiated a kind of quiet, grounded confidence. It wasn't flashy. Wasn't trying to prove anything. It was just his. A space built from instinct, technology, magic, and a stubborn need for control. Survival, comfort, and identity—all wrapped into one.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Namori was still standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a little dazed, like she wasn't sure if she'd stepped into a genjutsu.
"Yeah," Naruto said with a crooked grin. "Cool, huh?"
He flopped onto the couch and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. The cushions responded instantly, wrapping around him like a warm hug. "Still think I should've stayed at the compound?"
Namori shook her head slowly, awe loosening her features. "You built all of this?"
Naruto scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "Well... me and Vision. And the Mirror Dimension. And a slightly grumpy magical floating cube that may or may not be sentient."
Namori arched a perfectly skeptical brow.
"...Long story," he added with a chuckle.
For the first time in days, the tight coil of stress in his shoulders unwound. This was his space. And now, he wasn't alone in it.
It was part sanctuary, part lab, part home—and completely his.
Naruto raised a hand, and the door clicked shut behind them. The moment it latched, the seals flared softly, stabilizing the portal. Inside this space, they were totally hidden—tucked into a custom-built pocket dimension nested within the Mirror Dimension itself. He and Vision had spent months stabilizing it, drawing from every scrap of Strange's archived knowledge stored within the Time Stone.
Namori crossed her arms, still taking it all in. "So? You gonna explain how this place even works?"
Naruto grinned. "Magic," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Don't get cocky with me, young man," Namori huffed, though the way her eyes kept darting around betrayed her curiosity more than any actual scolding.
He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, if I'm gonna leave the clan, I figured I might as well upgrade my bachelor pad, right?"
Namori rolled her eyes. But there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth, like she was fighting a smile.
And Naruto? He just breathed. Not the shallow, on-guard kind of breath he was used to. A real breath. Full and calm. This wasn't just a hideout. It wasn't just a base. It was the beginning of something new. And this time, he was the one writing the story.
✨🟣🔵🟢🟡🔴🟠✨
Later, as the sun dipped low and bathed the village in a warm orange glow, Naruto stepped out of the apartment, leaving Namori behind. She needed time—to process their sudden departure, the weight of splitting from the Uzukaze clan, and everything else that had shifted in such a brief span. He didn't blame her. It wasn't just a change of scenery; it was a move that rattled your soul.
Before leaving, he'd reminded her again not to forget the key. Without it, the apartment's dimensional ward wouldn't recognize her chakra. To anyone who didn't carry one of the enchanted keys, the place would look abandoned—just bare walls and an empty shell. The front door wasn't just a door anymore. It was a gateway, linked directly to the pocket dimension he and Vision had carved out in the Mirror Dimension.
Naruto jogged down the quiet street, the soles of his boots brushing against cobblestones still warm from the day's heat. The night had just begun, and the stars were slowly waking up across the velvet sky, glittering like shy fireflies. He tugged his hood up a little—habit, more than necessity—and let his thoughts wander toward something comforting: ramen.
He wasn't nearly as obsessed with the stuff as the rest of his former clan seemed to think, but even he had to admit—life without ramen? Unthinkable. Sometimes, it was less about the food and more about the routine. The smell, the quiet clatter of bowls, Teuchi's familiar face... it reminded him that some things in this world hadn't changed.
But just as he rounded the last corner, Ichiraku's sign glowing like a beacon in the dark, a sharp pulse of chakra flared on the edge of his senses.
Naruto froze. That chakra signature—he recognized it instantly. Twisted. Bitter. Familiar in a way that made his jaw clench.
Mizuki. And he wasn't alone. Another presence surged after him, hot on his trail. Iruka.
Malicious intent rolled off Mizuki's chakra like heat off a forge. He was heading for the border—fast.
Naruto didn't waste a second.
With a flicker of motion and the soft crackle of space folding, he vanished, leaving behind only a whisper of wind and a faint shimmer in the air. He shot through the treetops like a silent arrow, his senses locked on the two chakra signatures ahead.
What the hell is Mizuki up to this time?
Naruto flashed through the trees, leaves whipping against his cheeks like sharp whispers of the wind as he tore through the forest. Every footstep barely touched the bark. The distant sound of clashing metal and strained voices pulled him forward. Somewhere beyond the rooftops, near the Hokage Tower, a siren wailed—an ominous screech that tore through the evening quiet.
He masked his chakra instinctively, slipping into a low, almost meditative focus. Not that it would fool someone like the Hokage—but maybe it would keep the ANBU off his trail a little longer. He wasn't here to fight them. He was here to end whatever madness Mizuki had started.
Naruto reached a clearing and crouched low behind a branch, blue eyes narrowing. Below, in the middle of a half-demolished training field, Iruka and Mizuki were locked in battle. Kunai and shuriken glinted in the moonlight as they tore through the air.
Both looked like they'd been at it for a while. Iruka's left arm hung limp at his side, blood seeping through the fabric of his flak jacket and dripping onto the grass below. His face was tight with pain, but his stance stayed firm.
Mizuki, on the other hand, wore a twisted grin that made Naruto's stomach clench. Cuts marred his arms, and a thin stream of blood trailed from an open gash on his brow, staining the edge of his forehead protector. The Forbidden Scroll was slung over his shoulder like some kind of trophy, the old parchment banded in chakra seals glowing faintly against his back.
"Mizuki!" Iruka shouted, stumbling slightly as he repositioned. "You're making a mistake! The Hokage will never let you escape with the Forbidden Scroll!"
Mizuki barked a laugh. "Why would they, when they're busy hunting down that brat?"
Iruka's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Mizuki smirked darkly, unhooking the giant demon wind shuriken from his back. "A decoy, Iruka. That idiot Naruto gave me the perfect fall guy. He's already on the run. The ANBU is probably tearing up half the village chasing him down as we speak. He left his clan behind, walked out on them. Who's to say he didn't want power for himself? Everyone knows he's always been... unstable."
Naruto felt something ugly coil in his chest. Not anger—disgust. Not at Mizuki. He was trash. But at himself. For a second, he wondered—Was that what the rest of the village really thought of him? That he was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to betray them?
But then Iruka answered.
"Naruto would never do that!" Iruka's voice cracked like a whip through the clearing. "He's stubborn, loud, reckless—but he's not a traitor. And the Hokage would see right through you."
Something warm and heavy swelled in Naruto's chest. He swallowed hard. Iruka had always had his back—even when everyone else looked at him like he was some kind of cursed artifact. Iruka-sensei had been the first adult to treat him like a person, not a burden. Over the years, that bond had become more than teacher and student. It was like... like having an older brother.
He knew he should've told Iruka the truth. About his hidden power. About the Infinity Stones, and Vision, and everything that had changed since the Gauntlet merged with him. But the Hokage and Vision were right—some truths needed time. Some truths needed trust.
Naruto stepped out of the shadows, his chakra still low but his presence unmistakable. His eyes locked on Mizuki, and the grin that spread across his face was anything but amused.
"You're gonna regret using me, Mizuki," he muttered, lightning danced across his fingertips.