Chapter 14: The Hug That Held the Storm
The fire crackled softly in Iruka's modest living room, casting warm shadows over the walls lined with scrolls, photos, and the gentle clutter of a man who lived simply. Outside, the stars blinked lazily above Konoha, and the village was still. But within this quiet little home, a secret larger than life was about to be whispered into existence.
Naruto sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, a steaming cup of tea cupped between his hands. The laughter and noise of dinner had faded into memory, and now only Tsunade, Kakashi, and Iruka remained, their expressions calm but alert—ready.
He looked around at them, his once-boyish face now shadowed by something far deeper than age.
"I want to share the burden," he began, voice steady but quiet, "because I trust you. But…" He paused, eyes flicking to each of them. "It's your choice. What I'm about to say… it's not easy to hear. Once you know, there's no going back."
Kakashi tilted his head lazily, an eye-smile crinkling behind his mask. "Naruto, I've read Icha Icha Paradise in public. I can handle horror."
Tsunade scoffed and crossed her arms. "I've done open-heart surgery on myself during an earthquake. Spit it out."
Iruka gave a soft chuckle, his gaze warm and unyielding. "You've always carried more than you should. Let us carry some too. And between us… I've lived among monsters most of my life, Naruto. Knowing that death might come at any moment didn't stop me from teaching, or laughing, or living. So whether the danger's a rogue ninja or a planet-eating space god, it changes nothing for people like me."
Naruto blinked, startled—and then let out a sharp, unexpected laugh. It was loud and honest, and Tsunade nearly dropped her tea from the shock of it.
"That's… that's exactly it, isn't it?" he said, still chuckling. "Most people are already living with death as their neighbor. What does it matter if the monster has fangs or a gravity well?"
"I mean, preferably not both," Kakashi muttered, half to himself.
Naruto set his tea down and breathed deeply, the last of his hesitation slipping away. "Alright. Here it is. Kaguya… she wasn't some unique nightmare. She was one of many. A weak one, actually. In ninja ranks, she's a genin among the Otsutsuki."
The room stilled.
Naruto pressed on. "They're a species. A race of cosmic parasites. They travel across galaxies, plant something called a Divine Tree on a planet, feed it the life of everything—including souls—and then harvest the fruit to gain power. Each time they do, they become stronger. Strong enough to bend time, reshape space, even erase realities."
Kakashi leaned forward, his face unreadable. "And they're coming here?"
Naruto nodded grimly. "Eventually. The Sage of Six Paths told me so himself. If we defeat one, another will follow. Stronger. Then another. They're trying to ascend to something called the Fifth Dimension. A realm where death, time, even existence… don't mean anything."
Tsunade stood slowly, her usual calm cracking just slightly. "You're saying we could be fighting creatures who can think our world out of existence?"
"Yes," Naruto said simply. "And the Sage told me… if I want to survive the first onslaught—I need to become a thousand times more powerful than I am now."
He gave them a wry grin, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "And right now? I'm already strong enough to destroy the planet."
The silence that followed wasn't shocked or panicked. It was deep and thoughtful—like standing at the edge of a vast ocean and realizing how small you truly are.
Kakashi exhaled slowly, then leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "Well. I guess training camp just got a lot more intense."
Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to need a bigger sake cabinet."
Iruka, however, said nothing for a long while. He just looked at Naruto, really looked at him—not as a legend or hero or world-saving prodigy—but as the boy he once found eating cold ramen outside the academy.
Finally, he asked, "Do you believe there's a way?"
Naruto blinked. "What?"
Iruka repeated, "You've told us everything. But do you believe there's a way out of this? A path through it?"
Naruto looked at the floor, his fists clenched on his knees.
Then he looked up.
And his answer was soft—but absolute.
"There is always a way."
A beat passed. And then Iruka smiled—the kind of smile that lit something warm and ancient inside a person. "That's all I needed to hear."
Tsunade's lips curled into a small, proud smirk. "Spoken like someone I'd bet a world on."
And Kakashi?
He gave a slow, approving nod.
"Then we'll walk the path with you. Monsters, dimensions, and all."
Naruto felt his chest tighten—not with fear, but with something else. Something better.
And maybe, just maybe, the end of the world could wait a little while longer. Especially if it had to go through them.
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Kakashi stood, arms folded, one eyebrow arched with exaggerated patience, while Naruto sat cross-legged on the tatami floor like a particularly stubborn cat.
"I'm fine," Naruto mumbled, his arms also folded. "I don't need to sleep. I'm running on sage mode. It's basically nature-powered espresso."
Kakashi gave him a long look that only older siblings, teachers, and people who had once supervised toddlers with chakra bombs could pull off. "Naruto. You've been in sage mode for almost three days. You're starting to twitch like a squirrel with secrets."
"I am not twitching," Naruto protested. Then immediately twitched.
"That was a very suspicious eyebrow spasm," Kakashi pointed out. "Very un-Hokage-like."
Naruto scowled. "I'm not even Hokage yet!"
"Exactly," Kakashi said, leaning in slightly, "so you really don't want your first act as future Hokage to be collapsing into a ramen bowl in front of a genin tour group."
Naruto opened his mouth to protest again… and then sighed. He could feel the exhaustion hanging off him like a heavy blanket soaked in river water. His muscles ached from stillness, his mind wouldn't stop buzzing, and despite all the warmth and support from earlier, a small, tired voice in his head still whispered, what if something goes wrong while you sleep?
Kakashi, as if sensing the hesitation, softened his tone. "You've done enough for one lifetime in the last week, Naruto. Just one night. Let the rest of us take watch."
Naruto looked up at him. "You're sure it's okay?"
Kakashi reached out and placed a hand gently on Naruto's head, mussing up the already rebellious blond spikes. "It's more than okay. It's our turn to protect you for once."
Naruto hesitated a moment longer… and then with a long, slow breath, he closed his eyes and released.
The swirling energy of sage mode slipped away like morning mist. His markings faded, and for the first time in what felt like years, the world grew quiet around him.
His body sagged instantly, and Kakashi moved to catch him, guiding him gently onto the futon laid out by Iruka earlier.
"There we go," Kakashi murmured, adjusting the blanket over Naruto's shoulder like he used to when the boy passed out mid-lecture in class. "That's the spirit."
Naruto blinked sleepily. "You'll… you'll wake me if anything happens?"
Kakashi sat down beside the futon, leaned back against the wall, and pulled out a book. "I'll be right here. Nothing's getting past me."
Naruto yawned, the real kind—the one that takes your whole face hostage—and sank deeper into the blanket. "No reading anything weird… near me."
"Only wholesome bedtime stories," Kakashi lied smoothly, flipping to the exact page where things definitely stopped being wholesome.
Naruto cracked one eye open with suspicion. "...Liar."
But there was no real heat in his voice anymore. Within minutes, his breathing evened out.
And for the first time in what felt like a thousand lifetimes, Naruto Uzumaki slept.
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For a while, the house was quiet.
A breeze rustled the curtains, and the soft sounds of night crept through Iruka's open window. Naruto lay wrapped in blankets, his breathing finally even, sage mode long dissipated, the room humming with the warm presence of people who loved him.
Kakashi watched him from the armchair with a book open on his lap and one eye drowsily blinking. Tsunade had gone into the kitchen to make tea, Shizune had curled up on the couch like an exhausted cat, and Iruka had begun snoring gently from his corner.
Peace—fragile, beautiful peace.
And then, without warning, it shattered.
Naruto jolted upright with a sound between a gasp and a roar, his body crackling with awakened power, chakra flaring so violently that the lights in the room flickered and the teacups on the table rattled.
"NO!" he screamed, eyes wild and glowing red and purple. The Rinne Sharingan spun to life across his forehead, pulsing like a curse mark etched into his very soul. His hands moved on instinct, the terrifying instincts of a god-tier ninja acting in panic. Energy surged toward his palms.
"Naruto!" Tsunade was first—her hand shot out, slamming into his shoulder with enough chakra to halt a charging summon. "Stand down!"
But he didn't even see her.
His hands were outstretched, shaking violently, as if he was trying to stop something that had already happened. The chakra around him was violent, unstable—fueled not by anger, but by guilt.
"Blood—" he choked. "Sasuke's blood—on my hand—on my arm—I killed him, I killed—I didn't mean to—!"
Kakashi was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing Naruto by the wrists. "Naruto. Look at me. Look at me."
But Naruto didn't. He stared at his trembling hands, his chest heaving like he couldn't get enough air, like the memory had dragged him into another world where his friend was still lying limp beneath him.
"I—I saw it again," he whispered. "I was there. My hand… it went through him. I felt his body break. I woke up and it was still on me."
And Kakashi understood—of course he did.
He had woken the same way, more than once. He had scrubbed his gloves raw, swearing he could still smell Obito's blood, Rin's blood. He had been alone when the ghosts came.
But Naruto would not be alone.
Kakashi pulled him into a fierce hug, not caring that his student could accidentally shatter him with a twitch. "You're not alone," he whispered fiercely. "You're not alone. You're not a murderer. It was war. He made his choice. You tried, Naruto."
Naruto didn't respond with words. He just collapsed into the embrace, shaking with silent sobs, his whole body trembling like a child who hadn't been allowed to cry until now.
Tsunade knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around them both.
"I'm staying here tonight," she murmured into his hair, her voice full of maternal iron. "You don't get to scare us like that and then sleep alone. No arguments."
Naruto didn't make one. His shoulders slumped. His head dropped onto Kakashi's chest.
Iruka stirred groggily from the corner and saw the sight before him—Naruto clinging to his teachers like a drowning boy to a raft—and quietly went to fetch more blankets.
Kakashi sat back down with Naruto still leaning on him, Tsunade beside them both like a lioness guarding her cub.
The chakra faded.
The Rinne Sharingan dimmed.
And eventually, exhaustion and comfort dragged Naruto back down into sleep.
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The night clung gently to the windows, casting long silver shadows over the modest little room where Naruto slept.
It was, perhaps, one of the coziest rooms in Iruka's house—just big enough for a bed, a side table with a chipped lamp, and a scroll rack in the corner filled with dusty teaching guides and badly organized D-rank mission reports. There was a faint smell of old paper, warm blankets, and something vaguely floral—Shizune's tea, steeping quietly in the corner.
Kakashi sat slouched on a cushioned stool beside the bed, hands in his lap, a book unopened beside him. His visible eye, dull but watchful, was trained on the boy tangled in sheets, muttering faintly in his sleep.
Shizune had awoken not long ago from a short nap and now sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, sipping from a steaming cup. She said nothing—only passed Kakashi one of his own cups when he didn't ask for it.
For a long time, there was only the ticking of a clock and the occasional sigh from the bed.
And then Kakashi spoke, more to the air than to anyone.
"He's worse than he was after Jiraiya."
Shizune didn't move, but her eyes drifted to Naruto, who twitched again and clutched the blanket like it might vanish. She nodded slightly. "This one runs deeper."
Kakashi stared ahead, his voice low and laced with thoughts far older than his age. "I've seen soldiers break after war. Good people. Hardened people. They lose a friend, a brother, and carry on. But Naruto… he carries everyone. All of them. Not just the ones he lost—but the ones who could be lost."
Shizune stirred her tea slowly, her voice quiet but firm. "He can't stop caring. It's in his blood."
"But why like this?" Kakashi asked, almost to himself. "Even Jiraiya… even Hiruzen… they learned to let go, to keep moving forward, even when the pain stayed. But Naruto, he's drowning in it."
He glanced back at the boy. His student. His brother. His best friend's son. His… successor?
Kakashi couldn't help but ask the question that had gnawed at him for weeks now.
"Why are you like this?" he whispered. "Why do you care so much? Why do you hurt like this?"
It wasn't a judgment—merely a marvel. Kakashi had grown up in blood. He had killed, buried, and mourned. But somewhere along the line, he had accepted pain like a scar: something you lived with, not something you tried to undo. Naruto, on the other hand, was still trying to heal the scar—every scar, on everyone.
"He wants to fix it all," Kakashi murmured, voice half-laced with awe and fear. "He wants to save everyone. But people aren't scrolls. You can't just write new endings for them."
Shizune set her tea down softly. "Maybe not. But maybe… he knows that too."
Kakashi looked at her.
"He's not a child anymore," she continued gently. "I think he knows the world isn't as simple as he'd like. But he still believes people can be better. And maybe that's not naïve. Maybe it's brave."
There was silence for a while.
Then Kakashi chuckled—a small, dry thing.
"I used to think he was too idealistic. Wanted to save everyone, make them see reason, avoid violence even when it was justified. I thought he'd learn the hard way. But now…"
He turned his gaze to Naruto again, and this time his expression softened into something warmer. Something close to pride.
"Now I wonder if we are the ones who were too bitter. Maybe we were the ones who gave up too early. Maybe it's our job to help him walk the path he's chosen. Not because it's easy. But because it's his."
Shizune smiled faintly, a rare flicker of hope in her eyes.
Naruto twitched again, this time less violently. His breathing eased just a touch, like he could sense them near—even in sleep. The spinning of the Rinnegan in his brow had faded, returning him, for now, to a boy who simply needed rest.
And that, Kakashi thought, was the strangest part of all.
Because Naruto had ascended beyond them in so many ways. He was strong—frighteningly so. Even now, without Sage Mode, he could shatter a mountain with a thought. His chakra flowed like a storm barely held in check. No mortal shinobi could touch him anymore.
And yet… he still looked to them. For guidance. For reassurance. For love.
He hadn't outgrown his heart.
Kakashi reached over and tugged the blanket a little higher over Naruto's chest.
"Sleep, Naruto," he said softly, his voice more parental than he ever intended. "We'll stay. We'll be your shield until morning."
Shizune smiled at him and rested her head on the edge of the bed, watching over the boy they all loved like family.
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It was somewhere between night and morning—the kind of hour where shadows melted into silence and even the moon seemed reluctant to shine too brightly.
The room had quieted again, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of Naruto's breathing. His chest rose and fell with a kind of fragile exhaustion, like every inhale had to fight its way past the memories clawing at his mind.
Tsunade, still in her rumpled robes from earlier, sat beside him on the futon with one arm wrapped gently but securely around the boy who had once barged into her life with ramen breath and eyes too bright for someone so burdened. Now, those eyes were closed, damp from sleep, lashes trembling every now and then as the remnants of his nightmare ebbed and flowed.
But Tsunade was steady. She didn't fidget, didn't sigh. She simply held him.
It was a rare thing, really, for Naruto to allow himself to be held—properly held. He was more the type to smile through pain, to punch through despair, to shout "I'm fine!" with that trademark grin stretched a little too wide. But tonight, there was no grin. No mask. Just a young man curled into the arms of someone he trusted more than the world.
And Tsunade?
She didn't say a word.
Not yet.
She had always been formidable—the kind of woman who could throw boulders at mountains and expect them to move. But in this moment, she was only what Naruto needed: warmth, stillness, and something unshakably maternal. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, brushing out the damp strands matted to his forehead. Her other hand settled lightly on his back, keeping his trembling form grounded.
Naruto, in turn, leaned closer into her chest—almost instinctively. As if he knew that if nightmares dared to touch him now, they'd have to get through the Fifth Hokage first.
Kakashi, still by the door, watched in quiet reverence. He gave Shizune a nod, and together they slipped out of the room, leaving behind the rarest of scenes: a hero being comforted, rather than summoned. And for once, no one needed him to save the world.
Only to rest.
Tsunade finally whispered, her voice like the last note of a lullaby.
"You don't have to fight tonight, brat. Just sleep."
Naruto didn't reply—not with words. But the way his shoulders uncoiled, the way his breath evened, the way his entire being seemed to melt into her arms… it was answer enough.
She smiled faintly, brushing his forehead once more. "Honestly. You could level the planet with a flick of your pinkie, and you still can't sleep without someone fussing over you."
A quiet sniffle escaped him. Whether it was from exhaustion, emotion, or some combination of both, Tsunade didn't know. And she didn't care. She simply cradled him closer.
"You remind me of Nawaki, you know," she murmured. "Both of you… always wanted to save everyone. Always too good for this world."
Her voice caught a little—but she didn't let the tears come. Not tonight. Not when he needed strength. Not when she had herself to be steady for.
"Sleep, Naruto," she said again, this time like a promise. "I'm right here. Nothing's going to touch you. Not while I'm breathing."
And in that quiet room, lit only by the softest glow of dawn creeping over the windowsill, the boy who carried the world… finally slept.
Peacefully.