A warm breeze swept across the heights of Konoha.
Hidden in the shadow of a small, ancient shrine outside the village, a silver gleam split the air like a silent tear—no light, no sound. A rift, thin and elegant, carved as if from the fabric of reality itself.
A door.
A passage.
Naruto stepped through first.
His gaze swept the surroundings with absolute calm.
No detectable chakra. No shinobi nearby.
He extended a hand behind him gently, and Mikoto Uchiha emerged, her steps uncertain but dignified. Behind her came Izumi, her eyes still veiled with memories too bright to be forgotten.
The moment they set foot in this world… the contrast was brutal.
The air—heavier.
The chakra of the shinobi world—raw, harsh, aggressive, as though it had forgotten gentleness.
The smells: earth, sweat, ash.
And above all… the silence, this time devoid of magic.
Mikoto clenched her fists.
Izumi shivered.
> "This world feels smaller than before," she murmured, without bitterness. Just stating a truth.
Naruto said nothing.
He looked up at the sky—still the same. Then, in a voice barely louder than a breath, he said:
> "You're under my protection now. As long as I breathe, no one will lay a hand on you."
Mikoto lowered her gaze to him, then—gently, with infinite maternal tenderness—placed a hand against his cheek.
> "You are far more than this village could ever imagine, Naruto."
He closed his eyes briefly. Then he continued:
> "You'll be housed somewhere safe, where no one knows to look.
An old Uzumaki home, protected by seals even the Hokage can't decipher."
> "And the others?" Izumi asked.
> "No one can know you survived. Not yet.
Not while the old system still holds its foundation."
Mikoto nodded slowly.
> "I understand."
Naruto raised two fingers and formed a mudrā. A thick mist rose around them, cloaking them in both visual and sensory concealment. He guided Mikoto and Izumi through the forest, avoiding sentries and patrols, until they reached a forgotten sector of Konoha—hidden behind a genjutsu barrier.
At the end of a moss-covered path, nestled in an arching grove, stood an ancient house.
Red stone walls, black wooden doors, and the Uzumaki crest discreetly etched into the lintels.
> "This house belonged to my mother, Kushina. No one remembers it."
He broke the silence seal with a wave of his hand, and the door creaked open.
The interior was modest, dusty, but untouched. He had restored it in secret, long before.
Izumi stepped in first, breath caught.
> "It's… peaceful."
Naruto nodded.
> "This is where you'll stay. Until the time comes."
Mikoto rested her hand on the doorframe, feeling the chakra veins etched into the wood.
> "You thought of everything."
> "I had time," he replied simply.
Suddenly, Izumi turned to him, her eyes heavy with memory.
> "And Itachi?… He thinks I'm dead."
A heavy silence followed.
Naruto looked at her.
There was no judgment in his gaze. No pity.
Only a familiar kind of pain.
> "He had no choice…
But he'll carry the weight of that night to the end. Just like you."
Izumi closed her eyes.
A silent tear slid down her cheek.
Mikoto placed a hand on her shoulder, and—for the first time since the massacre—Izumi allowed herself to cry.
Softly.
Quietly.
Naruto turned away, offering them the privacy they deserved.
Then, after a long pause, he said:
> "Rest now.
More truths will come.
And I will protect you… from the shadows."
He left the house without a sound.
In the woods, a small winged figure awaited him:
a fairy—messenger of Elwynha—bowing with graceful reverence.
> "Master of the Infinite."
Naruto looked up at the moon.
The world of men had just regained two women it believed lost.
But the truth—
The truth belonged to another realm.
And it had yet to be revealed.