Five years passed in the blink of an eye.
The Ninja World had entered a full technological era. Looking back over these five years, it felt as though the world had transformed with every passing year. Whether in great cities or remote mountain villages, towering buildings now stood where old wooden structures once existed.
Sleek designs, chakra-powered infrastructure, and vibrant city streets breathed life into the world. Everywhere one walked, civilians wore the same expression—smiles full of genuine ease.
Bustling crowds. Vendors calling out. Children playing. A world brimming with vitality.
For many, these past few years were the best their lives had ever been.
On a busy street, three young men walked quietly side by side. One wore a relieved expression, another was as expressionless and cold as ever, while the third carried a faint smile.
"This is the prosperous era I always hoped for," one of them said warmly.
The expressionless young man looked around, listening to the crisp shouts of the street vendors, and nodded in silent approval.
"Big Brother, Naruto-kun has truly done well."
These three were Senju Hashirama, Senju Tobirama, and Uchiha Madara—reborn into new bodies, yet unmistakably themselves. Madara remained the stern, unreadable one. Tobirama, now a towering figure in the Research Department, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Orochimaru in status.
Naturally, the three had cast subtle illusionary suggestions around themselves. To ordinary civilians, they appeared as completely unremarkable passersby who would disappear into any crowd.
In these five years, technology and chakra had merged seamlessly. It was no longer simple machinery. It was chakra-technology.
A loud shout from the side of the street caught their attention.
"Come take a look! Newly-developed armored gauntlets! They can increase a Third-Stage user's strength by twofold! Fair prices! Come have a look!"
A middle-aged man had set up a small stall, displaying several technological creations.
The "Third Stage" he mentioned corresponded to a jōnin-level shinobi—already sufficient to be considered strong.
Modern weaponry was no longer confined to kunai, shuriken, and explosive tags. Countless types of chakra-enhancing equipment now existed.
Some items could amplify one's raw physical power. Others strengthened chakra output. And the most impressive among them were single-pilot combat mechs, capable of dramatically boosting the combat capability of their users.
The weakest personal mechs required the physique of a jōnin and the mental strength of an elite chūnin to operate. Only by synchronizing one's spiritual energy with the mech could it truly act as an extension of the body.
The strongest mechs had reached the Half-Step Six Paths tier.
To operate one perfectly, a shinobi needed at least Super Kage-level strength.
Meanwhile, the weakest models could still raise an ordinary person to Kage-level combat power—so long as the pilot had a jōnin-class physique and chakra reserves.
Because mechs relied on chakra to operate, shinobi were naturally better suited to using them. Once the mech's internal chakra was spent, a shinobi could continue powering it with their own chakra.
Martial artists, however, cultivated blood-qi instead of chakra. They could only rely on the mech's internal reserves, which made usage limited. Besides, most martial artists preferred fighting with their bare bodies anyway.
Still—who wouldn't want a mech?
Unsurprisingly, mechs were the hottest, most sought-after weapons in the entire Ninja World.
The stall owner's shouting quickly drew a small crowd.
"How much for this gauntlet? I'm thinking of buying one for my son."
"Eighty percent of the market price, sir! Guaranteed value—absolutely worth every coin!"
The vendor was clearly experienced at this.
The customer hesitated, tempted, but after a moment reached for the card in his wallet.
Just as he was about to swipe—
"City guards! City guards are here! Run!!"
Instant chaos.
Stall owners frantically scooped everything into their personal storage scrolls. Some vanished with the Body Flicker Technique, others simply ran, and more than a few popped like smoke—they had only been Shadow Clones.
Only the customer remained, staring blankly at the empty street around him.
At that moment, a young man rounded the corner, followed by five or six more behind him.
"These guys… How many times have I told them not to set up stalls here?! They're driving me crazy!"
The young man cursed under his breath and prepared to check the next street—until something caught his eye.
His expression brightened immediately as he strode toward a familiar group.
"Department Head Senju Tobirama, Lord Senju Hashirama, Lord Uchiha Madara—why are you here?"
Morita's voice carried unconcealed excitement.
"Morita? What brings you here?" Hashirama asked, looking at him with surprise.
Morita was one of the shinobi once trained personally by Madara, and in these five years, he had also reached what was now considered the "Kage-level."
But the meaning of "Kage-level" had changed.
In the modern world, it wasn't rare at all—not even on par with the former jōnin.
In terms of difficulty, it sat somewhere between Elite Chūnin and Special Jōnin.
Otherwise, how could someone at his level be working as a city guard?
Morita rubbed the back of his head and sighed.
"Lord Hashirama, it's these people again. They keep selling weapons in restricted areas. I've asked them to rent proper shops, but they refuse to spend the money. A new policy was enacted recently to crack down hard on unauthorized street resellers."
Hashirama blinked in confusion.
"With your strength… you shouldn't have trouble catching them, right?"
"I can catch them," Morita admitted with a wry smile. "But they're all just parents trying to earn a little extra for their kids in school. Most of their families aren't doing well. Recently they've calmed down and only come out occasionally."
He exhaled.
"And… I know several of them personally. Being a city guard isn't easy. Sometimes a small punishment is enough. I also enjoy having a bit of peace."
As he spoke, a voice came from beside him.
"Lord Morita, have a cigarette. Didn't expect you to be on patrol here today. You've worked hard."
Morita subconsciously accepted it.
Then he froze.
"You—!"
The man pushing a small mobile stall smiled leisurely.
"Come now, Lord Morita. If you take something, you owe something. If you eat something, you owe something. Let's keep our relationship civil, eh? Hahaha! I'm off!"
With that, he pushed his cart at full speed down the street—and vanished in a puff of smoke. A Shadow Clone, of course.
Morita could only shake his head and laugh.
"That guy… Next time I'm definitely writing him a fine!"
Tobirama and the other two exchanged a look. Tobirama nodded quietly—Morita understood balance. He grasped human nature well enough to enforce order without crushing livelihood.
Madara, meanwhile, felt something stir in his chest.
Perhaps a world like this—imperfect, flawed, full of small contradictions—was what a real world should be.
A world with rough edges, not sterile perfection.
Over these five years, he had personally witnessed the transformation of the entire Ninja World. And every time, he found himself marveling at Naruto Uzumaki's ability.
Naruto had not only advanced the world's strength, but also improved the lives of its civilians—comprehensively, thoroughly.
Madara could not deny it.
He himself would never have been capable of this.
Meanwhile, Tobirama continued chatting with Morita, quietly impressed by the young man's composure. Even in front of the First and Second Hokage and Uchiha Madara, Morita showed no stiffness—only respect without fear.
His handling of the illegal vendors was not entirely by the book, but it was humane, balanced, and effective. It reduced disorder while still giving people a chance.
It reminded Tobirama of the old Uchiha Police Force he had established.
But… he doubted the Uchiha of the past could have managed things in this manner.
Not like Morita.
Not like this new era.