Gunpowder smoke mixed with the scorched stench of blood, drifting across the battlefield outside Konoha.
The shattered Hokage Rock lay embedded in the ruins at a crooked angle. The face of the Seventh Hokage had been blown half away by an Ōtsutsuki energy blast; chunks of stone crashed against Uzumaki Naruto's back, drawing a muffled groan as hot blood surged up his throat.
He was already seventy years old.
For fifty of those years, he had served as the Seventh Hokage, dragging the shinobi world out of the mire of endless war.
He built railways that spanned the Five Great Nations. He oversaw cities lit by electricity. Ordinary civilians no longer lived in fear of ninja oppression. Children from different villages could sit in the same classroom and study together. The shinobi world had enjoyed forty-four years of steady peace.
Everyone thought life would continue like that—
until three surviving Ōtsutsuki hidden in the depths of space tore through the atmosphere, intent on seizing Earth's chakra source and restarting the God Tree.
The battle lasted three days and three nights.
Sasuke's Susanoo shattered eight times, half his arm blasted into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Kurama burned its very origin, enduring seven world-ending techniques from the Ōtsutsuki head-on.
In the final moment, when Momoshiki's annihilation cannon roared toward Hinata and the civilians sheltering behind cover, Naruto didn't hesitate. He threw himself forward and blocked the attack with his own body.
In that instant, the Nine-Tails' chakra was completely exhausted.
From the depths of his fading consciousness, he heard that familiar voice—the one that had cursed at him his entire life—growing faint, like smoke scattered by the wind.
"Hey, Naruto… I've stuck with you my whole life. Worth it… Guess no one'll fight you for Ichiraku's chashu anymore…"
"Kurama!"
Naruto coughed up blood, desperately reaching for that warm presence of chakra—but his fingers closed around nothing but cold emptiness.
They had been bound together for sixty years. From mutual hatred to life-and-death comradeship. And in the end, he didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.
"Naruto!"
The gentle voice trembled with sobs—Hinata.
Half her hair had turned white. The shy girl who once blushed at everything now bore wrinkles on her face. She cradled his head, tears falling onto his bloodstained cheeks.
Yang Release chakra poured from her hands into his body without restraint. But the moment it entered his meridians, it sank like a stone into the sea—unable to stir even the faintest ripple.
Beside them, Boruto and Himawari knelt on the ground. Boruto, already in his forties, cried like a teenage boy, clutching Naruto's sleeve.
"Dad, don't fall asleep. You promised to take me and Himawari to the Land of Waves—to see the Naruto Bridge…"
Himawari's tears dripped onto the back of his hand. "Dad, I made your favorite red bean buns. They're still warm…"
Sasuke stood nearby, leaning on a broken Kusanagi sword. For the first time, panic cracked his usually cold expression. Even his voice shook.
"Naruto, hang on. Granny Tsunade will be here soon. She'll find a way to save you."
It was useless.
Naruto knew it clearly. His life force had burned away alongside Kurama. Even if Tsunade were here— even if the Sage of Six Paths himself stood before him—there would be no saving him.
His consciousness began to blur. Scenes from the past flickered wildly before his eyes like a spinning lantern.
He saw his twelve-year-old self hiding at the corner of an alley behind Konoha's back streets, watching three older genin corner little Hinata against the wall. They snatched her Hyūga forehead protector and ground it into the mud, calling her a "Byakugan freak."
Back then, he had been the despised Nine-Tails brat. His fists clenched so tight his nails cut into his palms—yet he was afraid people would mock him as a meddling dead last.
He didn't even have the courage to step out.
All he could do was watch as Hinata, tears brimming in her eyes, picked up her dirty forehead protector and ran off with her head lowered. That frail, trembling back—he remembered it for a lifetime.
He saw his thirty-six-year-old self standing over the sea at Amegakure. Jiraiya's forehead protector floated by on the waves, streaked with blood that hadn't yet washed away.
He had gone mad trying to dive into the ocean, only to be held back by Kakashi.
"Naruto… Master Jiraiya is gone."
The seawater that day had been bone-chillingly cold. He hated himself for not stopping Jiraiya, for letting him go alone to the Hidden Rain.
He saw the battlefield of the Fourth Great Ninja War. The Ten-Tails' wooden spikes shot toward him and Hinata.
Neji stepped in front of them without hesitation. The spikes pierced through his chest. Even then, Neji smiled.
"Naruto… you're the one who'll become Hokage. You can't die."
Later, he changed the Hyūga clan's main-branch and branch-branch system.
But Neji would never see it.
He saw Konoha after Pain's devastation—ruins filled with the sound of weeping. He held Kakashi's cold body and hated himself for not returning sooner, for failing to protect the villagers who called him their hero.
He saw Boruto's childhood parent-teacher meeting. Because of urgent alliance matters, he arrived three hours late. Boruto sat on the steps, face red with anger.
"You don't deserve to be my dad."
He saw Hinata waiting for him every night in the entryway, waiting until she fell asleep at the table. The food on it reheated again and again.
He saw Himawari's fifth birthday party. He missed it due to sudden intelligence about the Ōtsutsuki. The little girl hugged a Nine-Tails plush and waited all night. The next day, she still smiled and said, "It's okay, Daddy. Work is important."
Too much.
There were too many regrets—so many they crushed the breath from his chest.
He had spent his life as a hero who saved the world, protecting the peace of the entire shinobi world.
Yet he couldn't protect the people he cherished most.
He couldn't even give his family the simplest companionship.
Naruto parted his lips. Blood spilled endlessly from the corner of his mouth. He looked at Hinata, crying her heart out before him. He looked at the ruined Konoha in the distance. He looked at the peace he had spent a lifetime defending.
His heart felt as though it were being crushed in someone's fist.
If only he could start over…
If only he could return to when he was twelve.
He would never again be that cowardly dead last. He wouldn't hide at the mouth of the alley while Hinata was bullied. He wouldn't let Jiraiya go to the Hidden Rain. He wouldn't let Neji die on the battlefield. He wouldn't miss a single one of his children's birthdays. He wouldn't make Hinata wait for him deep into the night.
He would protect everyone he loved.
He would make up for every regret in this lifetime.
In the final second before his consciousness sank completely into darkness, he gathered the last shred of strength he had and shouted the obsession carved into his soul:
"I want to go back… back to when I was twelve!"