A Boy's Plans ✧
He wanders through the village, tension riding in his every footstep. The dirt paths are familiar, but wrong... The air smells like a mix of foods. From different establishments. Definitely not filtered.. There's no noise of trains, neon lights, no buzz of chatter over the newest technology...
Just... life.
Slower and simpler...
Naruto's steps falter as he walks past a shop. The sunset reflects warmly off the glass pane of the window. Almost like glowing and something in that soft shimmer makes him glance.
He stops..
Hard.
His eyes widen, heart lurching in his chest.
There's a child staring back at him through the window..
But not just any child.
Him.
His reflection barely a chest-high to the sill, looks just as stunned as he feels. Big round cerulean eyes are blown wide with disbelief, the pupils trembling slightly. His mouth parted, the corners twitching as if he can't quite decide whether to scream in horror, or gasp. A single bead of sweat trails down his cheek, visible even through the reflection.
Wild sun-yellow hair fans out messily in every direction, more untamed than what he remembers. His cheeks still carry some baby fat. And his whiskers are still the same as ever. He doesn't look quite as tired, no eyebags underneath his eyes..
He leans closer, almost in a trance. His fingertips graze the glass as if trying to touch the reflection. Small hands... He looks so small... So young... He really has time travel back further than what he wanted..
"W-what the hell..." He murmurs, his voice barely audible.
It's not the reflection of a man who once bore the Hokage's cloak. Not the battle hardened Shinobi who faced a goddess and powerful enemies, not the one who has spent his life battling in a war.. Where he and others suffered lost of allies... No.. the face right in front of him.. It's the face of a boy who still dreamed of being acknowledge. Who still slept alone and acted loud just to feel seen..
No wonder everything looked so big, he suspected it.. But seeing it right Infront of him makes him believe it more.. His breath catches. He takes a step back, almost stumbling.. "I really am five? , maybe six?.."
His fingers twitch at his sides, it's like time hits him all at once. Past and present crashing together.. He steps back from the window, heart racing. This wasn't the plan.
He and Kurama had only discussed a slight jump. A few weeks at most, he knew Kurama said the seal was unstable It came with risks but he didn't think it would make him travel this far.. Not into his kid self... He grips his shirt, familiar, worn fabric from his academy days... His fingers tremble as he instinctively calls out in his mind.. " Kurama...?" still no answer, he sighs Kurama is still silent, he can still feel Kurama but, he seems not to be accessible or rather Kurama is sleeping..
Time travel probably has taken so much chakra out of him.. For him to be silent like this..
But still he can't help but feel there's a dull, growing ache spreading in his chest. He never feels this empty, at least even if his alone he'll have Kurama but... The fox is silent.. The silence of his absence.. He tries again.. Even if he knows Kurama won't answer him.. His that desperate...
" Come on Kurama.. Please say something.. Tell me this is temporary.. That we'll fix it.. Make a seal back to the future. Or something.."
But there's nothing, not even a flicker of warmth. Not a shift in chakra. Just silence. The kind of silence that sinks teeth into your ribs and won't let go. Naruto exhales shakily, his hand still at his sides.. The window, it is slightly fogged from his breath. He pulls away, slowly and lets his fingers curl and uncurl, a restless habit. He sighs softly is not helping that the surroundings are not that noisy.. This is still the time the villagers still hate him, so it's no wonder he didn't hear any children near.. Though the nearby marketplace atleast have some noise.. He backs away from the glass, his small feet making soft sounds on the dirt road, as he turns, aimlessly but driven by instinct to move. To do something.. He can't stay still..
His chest aches..
A low, hollow pulse that refuses to fade.
Boruto... Himawari...
He sees their faces in flashes. Boruto's scowl when he nags him about missions, Himawari's sleep smile when she cuddles up to him whenever his home. Their laughter echoing through the house when Hinata makes their favorite meal. The small every day things brushed away so often in the rush of duty.. Now feel like anchors...
And without them..
He feels adrift..
"Do they even exist now?" He murmurs to himself.. knowing full well they aren't they haven't even been born and his is now a child.. But will they be born again in the future?.. What if they don't..? What if coming back here meant trading them away?..
He squeezes his eyes shut.
No.
No. He can't think like that. Kurama warned him about the risks, yes. That the seal was unstable, that a jump back might drain them both, but he thought they'd land few weeks back. Maybe enough to fix things, make it better for his family but not this.. Not this far.. Not in a child's body with no chakra control, no allies yet who recognizes him.. and no plan what so ever..
He turns a corner quickly, heart pounding harder in his chest as he realizes he's drawing closer to a familiar district. The one leading to the Hokage's tower. It looks faintly in the distance, not as tall as it would be years later, not yet refurbished or surround by reinforced barriers.. Just an old place with an older man inside..
Jiji..
The Third Hokage
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
The thought made his throat tightens again. One of the peoplein this time who will look at him with warmth, but it also a reminder that time hasn't just been turned back — it's rewritten. He slows as he walks, uncertain now the weight of it all presses down again.
Kurama's gone quiet.
The village hates him like what he experienced before..
And the fact his kids might not even be born..
And he's not Hokage anymore. Not the man who saved the world. Just a boy with too much in his head and nowhere to put it.. Naruto just now adjusts his shirt with the red Uzumaki swirl in the middle, and his long green sleeves. That hangs baggy over his small frame. The fabric scratches at his neck in a way he forgot. The elastic on the green sleeves, he wears underneath his shirt is loose, the way it used to be when he couldn't afford new ones. He moves to a different direction, he isn't ready to see Jiji yet.. As he makes his way through the winding back alleys of Konoha, paths burned into muscle memory. But even with those memories, everything feels a bit off he wasn't used to it, the stalls aren't where they used to be. The buildings are older, paint cracked, signs are hand-written ... He turns a corner and stops.
The familiar road to his childhood apartment stretches before him, sun casting down, long shadows across the dirt. The buildings stand crooked and worn. The pipes that's used to leak still do. The same pile of bricks untouched in the alley corner. A cat slicks by, watching him. It's all the same , the same as before... He walks slowly now, that's when he feels it.
Eyes.
The villagers gazes latch onto him from all sides. Whispers stir like wind through grass.
"There he is.."
"That boy again.."
"Keep your kids close .."
"Why's he just standing there, that demon.."
He doesn't look at them, he doesn't have to. He lived this scene before, years ago. Hundreds of times.. Before he was acknowledged.. The sidelong glances. The way mothers or fathers subtly draw their children away. The hushed tones like he can't hear them. Like he doesn't know. He grips the hem of his sleeves tightly back then he used to shout, scream at them, question why they all stare at him like that.
But now..?
He understands their fear.. Their fear. The fear of the unknown, the fear of the fox sealed inside of him, that is Kurama.. The stories passed in fearful murmurs.
Still... That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt..
It burns even now. Even if he knew that he'll be acknowledged someday.. Still it hurts. Even after everything he has been through, and after everything he done. He takes a deep breath, forcing it back down, he may be a child in a boy , but he is an adult he can't think irrationally.. He needs to be patient. His steps carry him through as he is finally at the stairwell of the empty apartment complex, he once lived in. It creaks like it used to do so. Third floor, second door to the right. He stops right In front of it, the handle is placed quite high and does tippy toes to reach it, It is chipped and rusty. A faint memory flickers him years ago, kicking the door open because forgot the key again. He swallows. With trembling fingers, he pushes the door open. It's unlocked. No surprise there.
And there it is.
The same tiny empty space. Cracked floor. A single window with blinds. The scent of old wood and dust. His throat tightens, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. The world goes quiet..
And then, only then, does he let his knees buckle. He slumps against the door, fists clenched in his lap, head bowed. The room's shadows stretch long in the sunset light. His shoulders tremble... But no tears fall.. He wants to cry but.. He can't..
He's not the same kid who used to cry himself to sleep.
He's a father.
He's a husband.
He's the Seventh Hokage.
He's a man in a boy's body.
And he needs to go through to this...
Even if it means starting all over again... He needs a fucking plan... Even if it means earning everything again.
For Kurama
For Boruto and Himawari
For Hinata
And of course for the boy he used to be.
" Guess we're doing this the long way huh?.." he murmurs, voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. No answer still. No sarcastic growl nor teasing remark. Just silence. And him talking to himself like a mad man... He pushes himself up, slow and stiff, joints aching in a way. That doesn't match this young body. Everything feels off. He shuffles toward the small table in the corner, the same one he used to eat cup ramen as a kid. Now here he is again—except this time, he's not a kid right..? Okay maybe let's not question ourselves - we are definitely not a kid in mind.
He opens the drawer, digs out a half-used pencil and some crumpled paper. The pencil feels too small in his hand even if his hand is tiny. The paper is yellowed, thin, but It'll do.
He sits. Stares at the blank page. His brain buzzes, loud and chaotic.
Okay... Okay okay okay focus. Think.
He writes...
• Figure out what year it is
• Find Iruka-sensei? Maybe watch from a far distance for now— Wait figure out if Iruka-sensei is already teaching???
• See if I can do Shadow clones...? Waif—no, I don't have the scroll yet?? Crap and that will be too suspicious — fuck.
• Talk to Jiji???? Or just... See him from a far first ..?
He blinks and writes down, adding.
• Don't cry— don't have a mental breakdown–
His lips tighten. He scratches that out cause he probably cry anyways, but the mental breakdown. I definitely don't need one. He scribbles again.
• Act normal. Be a kid— you are a kid, you look like one. Talk like one. Don't freak the crap out of people.
• I miss my kids.. Boruto and Himawari. They're... Not even born yet. Fuck...
• I miss Hinata too— but Hinata here is still a kid, getting too close to her probably freak her out, she's shy— wait have I met her yet??? Crap I forgot what age I met her in-
• How do I get back?
• Can I even go back???
He pauses. The pencil hovers over the paper. Then. Shakily.
• What if they forgot about me?... Wait do that timeline even exists now fuck... I can't even ask Kurama his dormant..
A breath caught in his throat.
• What if I forget about them?... Nope ain't it possible, he doesn't go back in his words—
He presses the pencil hard until the tip snaps. Naruto drops it, leans back, hand clutching his messy hair, eyes stinging with unshed tears.
" This is insane," he mutters to himself, chest tightening. "This is crazy. What the hell am I supposed to do first?"
This is why he leaves the planning to Kurama or even to Shikamaru when it comes to making plans, fuck...
But then.
He takes a deep breath, let it out slow. And grabs another paper. He writes down, sloppier this time.
• I'm Uzumaki Naruto, I'll figure this out in the morning, can't deal with it, when it's almost might time. I will figure it , I always do.
And besides it he writes something too small to read.
• Wait for me kids, and Hinata, I'll come back home.
He sighs even though the last part seems not to be happening soon, but he'll cope with it...
A low traitorous grrrrrrrrrrghhhhhh breaks the silence.
Naruto flinches, then blinks down at his stomach, hand pressing over it like he could muffle the noise.
"Oh... Right.. I haven't since—" he pauses, eyes narrowing. " Wait... When was the last time I even ate?? Scratch that- does little me ate?? Before I travel here?"
His stomach grumbles again, louder this time as if saying that he hasn't eaten. " Okay! , okay! I get it!" He mutters, dragging himself up from the chair with the grace of a defeated fox. He trudges over to the cabinet near the sink, expecting—well, not much. He's right.
He opens the first cabinet. Empty.
Second one... Dust.. and spoiled milk? Ain't no way he's drinking that— third , he halts. Eyes meet the familiar packaging, a small army of red and gold.
Instant ramen cups.
Dozens of them.
"Of course" Naruto deadpans. "Why am I not surprised?"
He sighs, leans back, arms crossed, staring at the shelf like it personally offended him.
"Y'know, for a guy, well me ,who claimed he eat ramen forever, I really didn't expect it to be the only thing I really ate, when I was little — and the only damn thing left." His stomach lets out another whimpery growl. Naruto sweatdrops. ,"Look stomach, I get it. But we're not eating ramen for dinner. Not tonight. We're gonna find something else. Anything. Bread. Beans. Old rice—hell, I'll take pickles.
He starts opening the drawers, checking the fridge (nothing but a suspicious empty ice tray and an old, sad looking apple.) peeks under the sink— why? He doesn't know, he's just desperate. "Come on, there's gotta be something that isn't noodles—wait what's that?" He mutters, yanking open a lower cabinet.
His hand grabs... A can. No label.
"... Mystery can. Excellent. This is going to be great."
He shakes it next to his ear. Sloshing noise.
He narrows his eyes. "...Soup? Beans, Acid?.."
He sets it on the counter, grabs the dullest can opener known to mankind, and starts sawing at the lid like he's in a boss battle.
Ten minutes later, the lid pops open with a click! And a metallic stink punches him in the face. "Okay! Nope! Nope!" He yells shoving the can far, far away like it's cursed yeeting it out the window.
Back to ramen it is.
He sighs and grabs the cup, peeling back the lid like it's his tragic destiny, he fills the kettle, boils the water, and watches the steam rise as he pours it in. "This better be chicken flavor," he mutters, plopping down at the table again, resting his chin on his arms. As he waits for the noodles to soak.
Silence settles again.
But its lighter this time.
Maybe it's the food.
Maybe it's the scribbled paper list still sitting next to him, the reminder that he's still Naruto. Still trying. Still stubborn as ever.
As the ramen steams beside him, he lets out a long breath and glances around the small apartment. "Alright... New plan," he mumbles. "Step one: survive. Step two: don't emotionally collapse... Step three.. Become Hokage.. Again, get married to Hinata and have my kids... Eventually."
He taps the paper, then smirks faintly.
" And maybe figure out if it's possible to travel back hell, if Kurama even wakes up."
He clasps his hands together in front of the cup and closes his eyes briefly.
"itadakimasu"
Then he slurps a noodle. It's chicken.
"Nice"
Steam still clings to the cup as Naruto finishes the last few bites, the warmth of the noodles briefly filling his stomach. He slurps loudly—partly out of habit, partly because, well, it's still ramen.
He exhales, resting back in the creaky chair, fingers drumming slightly on the table. His gaze drifts lazily toward the window and he notices how the sky has shifted from soft gold to deep navy. The glow of the village fades into the flickering lantern light. Stars are starting to peak through the darkening veil above Konoha. A breeze stirs the edges of the blinds. It's quiet. Too quiet for his usual routine.
Guess it's late.
His eyes fall back to the scribbled papers strewn across the table. The chaotic spiral of his thoughts etched in messy handwriting. For a long moment, he just stares. Then sighs, he grabs the papers and tears it down the middle ripping and continuesly to pieces.
"Whatever," he mutters, rising and tossing the shreds to the old trash can in the corner. "Plans never go how I want them to anyway."
He shuffles to the tiny sink and grabs a cracked plastic cup, running water for a quick rinse. He finds a toothbrush short, cheap slightly bent, probably left over from this timeline's Naruto. He scrubs his teeth, spits and washes his face with cold water that makes him flinch. The mirror reflects that same too small face. The rounder cheeks. The un-calloused hands. He stares longer before shaking his head and moving away.
He doesn't bother changing into anything else, just pulls off the outer layer of his clothes, drops them onto the chair and flops onto the mattress near the window. The springs squeak beneath him. He lies there, staring up at the ceiling. The cracks haven't change. He remembers tracing them during stormy nights ... Or when he cried too much to sleep. Now they look like crossroads.
"Alright." He mutters into the dark. "Tomorrow, we start over."
He turns over, clutching the blanket to his chin as a soft gust of wind brushes through the open window. his eyeslids grow heavier.
"Please," he whispers like a prayer. "Let fate go easy on me this time..."
And with that, he drifts off — into dreams that flicker with flashes of his children's laughter, Kurama's grumble and a home that feels too far away. Whatever fate plans for him... It isn't one he planned himself..