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There is a world where Naruto, inspired by loved ones and a need to honor a legacy, falls headfirst into the art of fūinjutsu. A world where he becomes an unholy terror wielding matrices and anchors and arrays in a way that strikes terror into most rational adults (and an exasperated pride in his teammates).

It's a simple deviation—allowing Naruto to connect with the people he'd loved in a way that is unique to them.

It shouldn’t change much.

It changes everything.

At first, it changed what everyone thought they knew about sealing. There are rules, a foundation, structure—and Naruto looks at all of it and laughs as he layers incomprehensible symbols and kanji that shouldn’t work into seals with devastating effect.

He shows up in battle with gravity seals, sending enemy shinobi crashing into the ground or floating into the sky on a whim.

He slaps time distortion seals onto enemies and fucks up their sense of time so badly that they never truly recover.

He draws up chakra suppression seals that allow for the bare minimum necessary to sustain life—these are for the ones whose actions must have consequences but deserve a second chance. (No matter who asks, he never reveals how these seals work—there are too many examples of them being abused, and the only people he trusts not to use them poorly are people he doesn’t want to burden with that knowledge. So he carries it alone.)

It should be a one-time thing.

It becomes a theme—this is the second change.

The third change, the one that kicks everything off, starts with ramen.

More specifically, it starts with ramen shared over Iruka-sensei’s lunch break. The kids are outside, enjoying the sun and annoying the fuck out of the other sensei, and Naruto is gesticulating with his chopsticks as he really gets into the discussion.

“–and then, it just made sense to add the bit about suppression and feedback. The symbols in the books you gave me were kinda boring, so I just made some that felt right.”

Iruka smiles, a quiet pride shining in his eyes, but—

There’s also concern in the way the corner of his mouth tilts down just slightly, in the way his brow furrows. “I want you to know that I’m equal parts proud and terrified. Only you could come up with something so wonderfully insane and make it work. Gods, just the thought of someone else trying to copy that…”

Naruto just grins. “I mean, it would be super impressive if they could. But don’t worry, sensei, I never write any of it down anyway.”

Iruka is now equal parts amused and exasperated. Some things never change.

A student sits beneath the open window, listening raptly.

A seed has been planted.

Naruto forgets about the details of that conversation, couldn’t even begin to guess at what seal he’d been talking about—he’s already moved on to the next one.

A few weeks pass, and Naruto is meditating just outside the village when he feels it—

Terror spikes sharply, and chakra explodes in a single, contained area. It feels familiar, like something Naruto had heard about in passing, but it feels wrong.

Twisted.

He doesn’t pause to think—he flickers to the source—

The single second it takes for him to register what’s happening sears itself into his soul: a child, no older than nine, stands frozen in the middle of a poorly constructed seal, a seal that’s flashing a terrible red and tearing at their chakra, at their soul—

Naruto slashes his claws through the incomplete arrays, overloading it with a pulse of chakra he knows will be felt around the village. He can’t even begin to care as he lurches forward to catch the child as he collapses, cloaking the shaking form in his own chakra and scanning desperately.

He doesn’t register Iruka’s arrival, too busy cradling their face with hands covered in burns from the backlash. “You would have died,” he whispers, the words rattling in his chest. “That seal would have taken everything you could give and then some. Why would you…”

Hands at his shoulder pull him to his feet gently, taking the child from his arms. Naruto doesn’t say anything, just stares at the smoking seal on the ground. He sends another burst of chakra into it, destroying the components beyond recognition.

He doesn’t blink.

The seed takes root.

Naruto spends the next few weeks in a fugue state—replaying that scene over and over.

If he had been mere seconds later—

If they had heard more, had tried something different—

He feels Kakashi’s eyes on him, and it helps ground him a bit.

Kakashi doesn’t tell him it’s not his fault—they both know better, and they both know the value of taking responsibility for the consequences of one’s actions, intended or not. He does provide a steady presence that reminds him mistakes happen. What matters is what you do to make things better.

Ideas flash through his mind, half-formed and impossible for anyone but him to untangle. One keeps coming up over and over—

The roots settle deeper.

He knows he’s worrying his friends—he’d probably be worrying himself if he had the brainpower for it. Instead, he uses the time off that Kakashi had granted him to tear into his seal projects and the notes from Nidaime’s research.

He’s going to make things better, because he can’t change what happened, but he can make it fucking impossible to repeat.

The plan takes form, errant thoughts becoming concrete lines in the ever-growing scroll he keeps on his person. He’s seen what his father’s seals had been capable of—bending it to do this small thing should be easy.

(It is not easy, in any sense of the meaning. But that comes later.)

He stands in front of Iruka, Sakura, Sai, and Yamato. Kakashi watches with the air of a man who knows saying no is pointless and wants no part in this conversation.

“–and that’s it, really!” Naruto says, grinning. It’s a little manic around the edges, but hopefully that doesn’t show—he’s not too worried, though. They’re not looking at him anyway.

They’re all staring at the scroll on the table between them—it’s massive, bigger than the contract scroll he’d signed with the toads, and it hums with untapped power. It’s one drop of chakra away from setting off a domino effect he really hopes he can keep up with.

Sakura narrows her eyes at him before glancing back down. “And you really think this is necessary?”

She doesn’t ask if he’s really going to do it, or if he really thinks it will work. She knows better at this point.

Naruto’s smile dims, and his family watches with concern clear in their eyes. “I did something stupid, and that kid–” He clears his throat. “If I had been even seconds later, that seal would have killed them. And it would have been my fault.”

Sakura makes a noise, opening her mouth to protest, but Sai stops her with a gentle hand on her arm. His voice is calm as ever. “How exactly will this help?”

Naruto shifts his weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the itch under his skin to go and do. He owes them this. “It’s an alarm, tied to me.” An oversimplification, but he doesn’t trust himself to explain it any better than that. “It’ll let me know, no matter where I am, if there’s danger in the village. And yes,” he concedes, “the idea was born out of panic. But I’ve thought about it, and it works. This will keep everyone safe in a way we can’t right now.”

Iruka watches him with marrow-deep sadness ringing in his chakra. He hears what Naruto isn’t saying, and he knows him well enough to know that Naruto has already made his decision.

Yamato watches, silent as always. He turns to Kakashi with a raised brow.

Kakashi sighs, the picture of nonchalance.

(Naruto knows better, can feel the resignation in his chakra.)

“Maa, he’s going to do it anyway. We may as well babysit him while he does it.”

(The resignation deepens, and a tiny thread of fear weaves through it.)

Naruto feels eyes on him over the next few weeks as he lays the groundwork. There are sixteen points that will need to be connected, and he has to place them before he can begin trying to power them. He’d love to say that he’d planned the placement delicately and extensively, but–

He’d walked around the village until it felt like he was almost in harmony with the air around him, and he’d dropped markers with the absolute certainty that he’d chosen correctly.

Kurama tags along, an unwilling, grumpy shadow—he doesn’t agree, Naruto can feel it, but he’ll never make Naruto do this on his own. He’s the only entity other than himself that can really understand the stakes here, and he’d told Naruto in no uncertain terms that he didn’t trust him to not do something monumentally stupid and fuck everything up, so he’ll be along to provide adult supervision.

(Naruto files it under the growing list of the ways the fox has told him he loves him without ever coming close to uttering those words out loud.)

And then the sixteenth point chooses him—and Naruto breathes a sigh of something a little too apprehensive to be called relief.

It’s time to begin.

Day One:

The next two weeks earn their place in the list of “most harrowing things to happen inside the village walls” with distressing ease. No one had known what to expect when Naruto began the process, but it sure as hell wasn’t…

This.

Naruto kneels, eyes glowing softly in the early morning light as he pulls nature chakra into him with the same ease of drawing a deep breath. Placing a hand on the ground, Naruto exhales the chakra and watches it bleed red and orange into the dirt, spreading like a controlled burn through sigils and kanji that shouldn’t make sense, shouldn’t connect, but absolutely do.

The roots burrow deeper.

His family watches, the concern radiating off of them hanging like a physical thing in the air.

Sakura gnaws on her lip, tapping her fingers restlessly against her arm. “How long did he say this would take, again?”

Like she hadn’t sat him down yesterday and made him run through the plan six times until they could recite it in sync.

Sai tilts his head, expression blank even as his eyes, sharp enough to cut, observe everything intently. “It can’t be too long. Naruto isn’t really one to sit still.”

Yamato rubs his forehead with a sigh, tension manifesting in the furrow of his brow. “We all know that setting expectations is a fool’s errand.”

Iruka clenches his hands into fists, hides them behind his back and forces a smile. “Take it from me—the second you decide you know what Naruto is about to do, the universe will punish you for your overconfidence. It’s best to–” He cuts off, huffs sharply against the burn in his throat. “Best to just watch and see.”

Beside them, Kakashi stands at attention, eyes trained on the rise and fall of Naruto’s chest. He doesn’t speak, his mind too busy running through every possible contingency plan in the event this starts to implode.

There aren’t any, but if he stops focusing on that, he’ll focus on the very real possibility that he’s letting Naruto do something irreversible, something reality-altering. He strangles that thought and shoves it into the recesses of his mind.

(All he can do is be here. And that’ll have to be enough.)

(It has to.)

Day Three:

It doesn’t take long for rumors of what’s happening to spread through the village. Everyone is whispering about the slight tremors in the earth, the way that the clouds above the village seem to vibrate in anticipation.

How the anchor points have almost come to life—anyone who walks near one swears the air itself had watched them, seen them.

Yamato sets up a silent perimeter around each site, wordless. His Mokuton creates an impenetrable barrier, made to deter animals and curious civilians alike.

Sai draws decoys to redirect attention.

Sakura monitors Naruto’s vitals from a distance, unable to get through the chakra that whips around him in a controlled tornado.

Naruto hasn’t slept.

And Kakashi? He watches from rooftops or branches just outside the barrier. He doesn’t say it and doesn’t let it show, but he’s never been more afraid.

Day Six:

Naruto stops eating.

Sai can’t tell if it’s by choice—but he can tell that Naruto has passed the point of stopping. The blonde doesn’t move—present at each anchor point at once, though no one is quite sure which one is the original. It’s clear that Naruto isn’t just pouring into the seal now.

Sakura watches, fingers tapping against her lips erratically. She monitors to the best of her ability, and something settles heavily in her stomach as the seal reaches back, winding through Naruto in a way she can only describe as parasitic.

The seal is taking.

Late in the evening, when Naruto falters–

Kurama is there to catch him, cradling him in crimson claws. When his breath stutters, chakra that used to corrode fills his lungs gently, nudging him forward.

At one point, Naruto laughs—laughs—and jokes, voice hoarse, “You should see the one I’m carving into the Hokage Monument right now – really hope Tōchan doesn’t mind.”

Sakura steps behind Yamato’s barrier, crying silently.

Day Nine:

The seals start breathing—the chakra fueling them rising and falling in tandem with Naruto’s breath. The ground shudders.

Villagers start reporting unusual animal activity—namely, birds that have flown over any of the anchor points are dropping in disturbing numbers, pulsing with entirely too much chakra. The Inuzuka vets are busier than usual.

Kakashi stares at Naruto—though he’s almost certain this one is a clone. He’d sent Sai and Sakura home to rest, to eat, to do anything else for at least a few hours. Yamato stands at his side, face stoic and fingers twitching.

The silver haired man draws a deep breath and holds it for a moment before letting it go. “Five more days.”

Yamato fidgets. “I don’t… what if he can’t finish?”

“He will,” Kakashi replies. He knows it, feels it in his chest.

He doesn’t say that it feels less like hope and everything like dread.

Day Thirteen:

They’ve stopped calling it anchoring.

It’s bonding now. Naruto is fusing himself to the very bones of the village. Every seal has a pull to it, shrouded in chakra so dense it hums in the teeth.

No one can get close to Naruto, and the whirlwind of chakra surrounding him expands more every day. It’s almost impossible to see him anymore.

Sakura breaks, punches a tree to splinters before turning to Kakashi with burning green eyes. “Do something.”

“I can’t.” It’s not helpless, not yet—it’s respect. Naruto has made it this far.

He can keep going.

(It doesn’t just feel like respect – it’s not even fear that thrums through him – but he refuses to put a name to it until he can do so looking into clear blue eyes.)

Day Fourteen:

It’s all been building to this.

Kakashi goes from seal to seal until he’s certain he’s found the right Naruto. It’s deep in the oldest parts of Konoha, rarely frequented but thrumming with energy.

He doesn’t see Naruto finish, but he feels it—the whole village feels it: a single, drawn out note of pure emotion. And then–

Silence.

The sudden absence of chakra in the air makes Kakashi realize that it had risen to an almost deafening roar in the past few days. He dismisses the thought almost before it forms, eyes frozen on the figure emerging from the chaos in front of him.

For the first time in far too long, Naruto smiles at him. His face is caked in sweat and dirt, there’s blood around his fingernails, and he shakes like someone who hasn’t had food or drink in the last two weeks.

“I think…” He clears his throat roughly, and it turns into raspy laughter that strikes a bitter cord in Kakashi’s chest. “I did it,” Naruto breathes, satisfaction almost dripping from the silent declaration.

He collapses in Kakashi’s arms.

Interlude – Sakura

Sakura is a medic. She counts heartbeats, she reads muscle twitches. She knows the difference between chakra exhaustion and neural shutdown and spiritual overreach.

What’s happening to Naruto– it’s none of those. It’s more. It’s less. It’s wrong.

His vitals are fine. His body is functioning as it should. But when she calls his name, he doesn’t look up. When she reaches out with her chakra, there’s no reaction. She scans his nervous system and finds–

Nothing. Nothing wrong.

Except for the fact that he’s not there.

She takes a deep breath.

She keeps scanning.

And she prays he finds his way back.

Interlude – Sai

When Sai is lost, he paints.

It’s how he’s always made sense of the world, the only way that’s ever worked. Emotions have never come to him more easily than when he has a brush in his hand.

He can’t paint this.

Naruto is a blank canvas, chakra licking at his skin as he pours himself into the ground.

But nothing Sai captures will stay—it falls flat, burns to ash in his hands. His chakra refuses to infuse art with life, because that’s not true to the subject right now.

There is no interpretation of what’s happening to Naruto right now.

Not one that anyone can depict—only one that can be experienced.

For the first time he can remember, emotion comes to him all too easily.

And Sai hates the way it churns under his skin.

Interlude – Yamato

Yamato feels it first—in the ground, in the trees.

The forest is holding its breath.

He watches as Naruto’s chakra pulses in time with the roots beneath him—he’s no longer separate from the nature chakra vibrating around it. He’s part of it.

He’s no longer the conduit—he’s part of the seal.

His body is empty, his soul is in the stones. His spirit is racing through the village, brushing against the edges like he’s testing his new skin.

Yamato regards the empty vessel in front of him, the nature crackling in the air. He inclines his head and hopes that whatever has Naruto’s soul, they’ll give him back.

And he returns his attention to the perimeter because nothing in this world will be permitted to interrupt this.

Interlude – Iruka

When Iruka begins to understand the implications of Naruto’s love for the village, it hits like a shuriken to his spine.

It’s not anything he sees, though he knows the sight of Naruto’s eyes dimming as the seals under his hands steal their light will live in his thoughts forever

No. It’s what he hears.

He’ll be at the Academy, trying to teach his kids like the growing tide of chakra pressing on the village isn’t pulsing louder with every hour—and he’ll hear the echo of a laugh that threatens to bring him to his knees.

He’ll be sitting at Ichiraku, staring at a cooling bowl of ramen, and swear he hears Naruto’s ridiculous order barked through the steam like always, just a second too late.

He’ll walk past that swing—the one he’s wanted to set ablaze for years—and hear the muffled sniffling of a boy who learned early that crying silently was safer.

He doesn’t have to see Naruto to know he’s gone.

He hears him–

In all the places he used to be.

A ghost made of joy and weight and silence.

And Iruka hates how much of the village sounds like an echo now.

Interlude – Kurama

Kurama is familiar with the feeling of being trapped.

He’s spent centuries behind bars of one kind or another. He’s paced a canyon in his prison as he watches helplessly.

But now…

Naruto’s body is here, kneeling in the middle of a pulsing, half-finished seal. The skin is his, the chakra is theirs. But the spirit—the brat, the idiot, Naruto—is gone.

Not dead. Not unconscious.

Just… not here.

And Kurama?

He’s stuck in a prison of his own making, the first one he’s ever had that he didn’t want to leave. The first one he’s chosen to stay for. And it’s an empty shell.

Because Naruto left him.

Not out of cruelty, not out of distrust, and that makes it worse somehow.

He’s gone because he had to leave, and he trusts Kurama to keep him safe until he returns.

It hurts.

He paces a canyon in this prison, and he waits.

Because he chose this, and he’d choose it again in a heartbeat.

So he waits, and he chooses Naruto.

Interlude – Kakashi

Kakashi knows what overextension looks like. He’s lived it, fought through it, died in it.

This isn’t that. This is… something entirely new.

Naruto doesn’t flinch when the wind shifts, doesn’t blink when the seal flares and sends static racing across the ground.

His chakra is steady, endless. Empty. The boy he knows, the one he–

He’s not there.

Kurama’s chakra leaks from his skin like mist, curling around him in a protective cloak. It shudders, strained but determined.

Kakashi crouches as close to Naruto as he can, careful not to touch. To interfere.

And he watches.

Because he knows exactly where Naruto is.

He’s not in his body.

He’s in the village.

Threading chakra into its foundations, into its bones, marking walls and streets and air like a fox walking the border of its den.

And all Kakashi can do is be here.

(It doesn’t feel like enough. It never does.)

Interlude – Naruto

He doesn’t remember leaving his body.

Maybe it was when the sixth seal came to full power. Maye the seventh. Maybe it was when the ink on his skin began to glow brighter than the sun and the chakra around him started thrumming with a song he couldn’t unhear.

But somewhere, between one breath and the next, he stops being Naruto.

He doesn’t feel the village through the seals anymore. He is the village.

Completely, wholly, irrevocably.

He’s in the breath of an old woman settling onto her porch at dusk. He’s in the silent panic of a child jolting awake from a nightmare. He’s in the scuff of sandals against rooftop tiles, in the creak of the gates, the whisper of doors sliding shut in the tower.

He’s not listening to the heartbeat of the village.

He is the heartbeat.

He pulses in time with it, expanding and contracting as he settles into every brick, every tree. The village greets him like a lost piece of itself, and it almost feels like he’s returning.

And his body–

It’s something he remembers like a dream. Warm. Small. Sharp around the edges.

Finite.

Now, he’s everywhere, and it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced—not with his clones, not with sage mode. It’s something deeper.

Truer.

He’s chosen to protect them, and he’s weaving that promise into every crack in the foundation, making it whole. The seals aren’t just carrying him, they are him. His regret, his determination, his grief, his love.

His very soul, written across the village in a language no one else can read.

He doesn’t know if he can go back to that small shell, if there’s even room for what he’s become.

If he’ll ever fit again.

For now, he settles.

He waits.

And when he breathes in, the village breathes with him.