Chapter 1 – A reunion long since coming

disclaimer: I dont own naruto or highschool dxd, I only own the plot and any original charaters I might add

⸻

Kyoto – Inner Gardens of the Yasaka Shrine

The moon hung low over Kyoto, its pale light filtering through the maze of paper lanterns and wooden corridors that led to the heart of the sacred mountain estate. Somewhere in the distance, bells chimed gently over the rooftops of the sleeping city, carried on the hush of the night wind.

Yasaka stood barefoot in her private garden, her silken kimono brushing over the dewy stones as she knelt beside the koi pond.

The water was still. Too still.

She gazed into the reflection of the moon, silent.

Her long, golden hair swayed like rivergrass in the breeze, and her tails—normally so regal and poised—were loosely draped across the ground behind her. There was no audience here. No allies, no rivals. Just a mother, alone with memories that refused to fade.

"…Still no change in the leylines," she murmured.

A pulse of golden chakra flowed from her fingertips into the water's surface—subtle, refined, invisible to most. The wards buried in Kyoto's foundation stirred faintly in response, like a vast nervous system recoiling from an old wound. For five years, she had monitored those wards. For five years, they had told her the same truth:

He was gone.

And yet… lately…

She narrowed her eyes. Something had shifted. Small, faint. Like an echo.

She hadn't told anyone. Not her council. Not her guards. Not even—

"Mama?"

Yasaka blinked.

Kunou stood at the edge of the garden, rubbing sleep from her eyes. A tiny fox tail poked out from beneath her robe, flicking irritably in the breeze.

"It's cold," the five-year-old pouted. "Why are you outside again?"

Yasaka softened.

"To clear my thoughts," she said simply, rising from her knees and brushing off her sleeves.

Kunou walked up to her and took her hand without asking. Her little fingers clutched tightly.

"You always look sad when you're thinking," Kunou said.

Yasaka hesitated. "Do I?"

Kunou nodded, then glanced up at her with wide, curious eyes. "Were you thinking about him again?"

Yasaka froze.

Her smile didn't falter, but a shadow flickered behind her eyes.

"I don't know who you mean, little one."

"You never say," Kunou said, puffing her cheeks. "You just call him 'a very special person.' And you never tell me why you cry when no one's looking."

Yasaka looked down at her daughter—so bright, so sharp, so his. The same stubborn spirit. The same warmth in her chakra.

She bent low, brushing Kunou's dark hair back from her forehead and pressing a soft kiss there.

"One day," she said quietly, "you'll understand. But not yet."

Kunou frowned but didn't argue. She leaned into her mother's robes and yawned.

Yasaka closed her eyes, letting the silence stretch. In the stillness of the garden, she whispered a silent prayer to the stars.

Please… just let me see him again. Once.

But the night gave no answer.

Only the wind passed through the sakura trees.

⸻

Elemental Nations – Hidden Chamber Beneath Mount Hokage – Same Night

Sweat beaded on Naruto's brow as he pressed the final stroke into the glowing spiral array etched into the earth beneath him.

The seal was massive—ancient Uzumaki design warped and reforged into something entirely new. Chakra flowed through the inlaid grooves like molten light, rippling with power that bent the very air around it.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Not even when the feedback stung his palms.

"Almost there," he whispered.

In the shadows behind him, Hinata stepped forward, cradling a sleeping Boruto in her arms. She looked down at the man she loved—kneeling at the center of something impossible, something forbidden—and felt her throat tighten.

"You've spent five years on this," she said softly. "And you still don't know if it will hold."

Naruto glanced up.

"No," he said. "But I know what's waiting on the other side."

Hinata's fingers curled over Boruto's blanket. She hesitated… then nodded.

"You'll come back," she said. "Right?"

Naruto smiled. "You're my home, Hinata. I'll always come back."

And then—without ceremony, without fanfare—he reached forward and touched the seal's core.

The chamber ignited with light.

⸻

Kyoto – Sacred Inner Chambers of the Yasaka Shrine

The stone doors hissed closed behind Yasaka as she guided Kunou back into the heart of the shrine. The inner corridors were silent, shielded from the moonlight and lined with ancient prayer scrolls older than the clans who now warred in the world beyond the mountains.

She paused before the sealed warding gate—the one chamber she alone could enter.

Kunou blinked up at her.

"Are you going to meditate again?"

Yasaka gave a tired smile. "Just for a little while, little sun."

"Can I stay?" Kunou tilted her head. "I promise I'll be quiet."

Yasaka hesitated.

Normally, she would say no. The chamber was dangerous if not respected, and Kunou… Kunou had always been difficult to hide. Even now, the runes etched into her night robe shimmered faintly—ancient, layered, so dense in sealing script that no yokai scholar could parse them. But still, they pulsed.

They had been pulsing more often.

And tonight… they pulsed in rhythm with the leylines.

"…Alright," Yasaka said at last. "But only for a moment."

The doors parted silently, revealing the meditation sanctum.

It was circular—no walls, just curtains of golden script carved in light, enclosing a raised stone dais at the center. At its core, a lotus-shaped basin hovered slightly above the floor, pulsing faintly with raw leyline energy. Yasaka knelt before it, her expression unreadable.

Kunou, to her credit, stayed quiet.

For a while.

Then she tilted her head and frowned. Her blue eyes—so achingly like his—narrowed slightly.

"…Mama?"

Yasaka didn't look up. "Yes?"

"Something's… humming."

Yasaka's posture stiffened.

Kunou squinted at the floating basin. "It's like… a whisper. Far away. But it's loud at the same time."

Yasaka's eyes opened slowly.

No.

She turned sharply toward her daughter. "What exactly do you feel?"

Kunou placed a finger to her temple. "It's… warm. Not magic. Not yokai power. It doesn't hurt. It feels…" she trailed off. Her small brows furrowed. "Familiar."

A cold jolt ran through Yasaka's spine.

She had spent five years ensuring Kunou's chakra remained sealed—buried behind hundreds of weaves, wards, and layered disguises. Not even the Shinto gods had sensed the truth. Not even the Devil King Serafall had noticed during her last visit.

But Kunou wasn't sensing herself.

She was sensing something else.

Something crossing into their world.

Him.

Yasaka rose at once.

"Kunou, go to the east chamber."

"But I—"

"Now." Her voice was soft, but it left no room for debate.

Kunou bit her lip, confused and hurt, but obeyed.

She padded off down the corridor with a whispered, "Okay…" and the moment her footsteps faded, Yasaka dropped to her knees and flared her chakra.

The air shook.

The floating basin flared a violent white and a pulse of pure dimensional pressure slammed outward—barely perceptible to mortals, but to Yasaka, it was a scream.

A tear.

A distortion.

Someone was opening a path into their world. But not with magic. Not with divine energy. With something else entirely.

Something diffrent . Hungrier. Real.

Yasaka's heart slammed in her chest. Her golden eyes widened.

"…No one should be able to do that," she breathed.

The Kyoto leylines had been locked after he was ejected. She'd seen it herself. Even the gods couldn't override that kind of rejection without consequences.

And yet—

There it was.

A tether. Frayed. Primitive. But impossibly strong. Like a beast clawing its way across the dimensional threshold. A chakra so vast it made the leyline basin bend toward it.

Yasaka stood slowly.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes—but her voice, when it came, was deadly calm.

"Five years," she whispered, "and now you return."

She reached for the ancient scroll tucked behind the basin—a Shinto relic older than the shrine itself—and traced her fingers over the glyph that bound it. It flared with divine light, then died in her hands.

"…You're not supposed to be able to come back," she whispered. "You're not allowed to come back."

And yet…

Her hands trembled.

"…You stubborn idiot."

⸻

The Dimensional Veil – Between Worlds

The pressure was suffocating.

Naruto's hands gripped the edges of the seal circle as wind and light howled around him. Space was folding violently around his body—his chakra burning against the friction of a world not designed to hold it.

But he held firm.

His Sun Mark flared on his palm, swallowing the backlash of divine interference. He had rewritten this seal a hundred times. Tested it with clones. Reinforced it with Sage Art and the last remains of Toneri's devoured divinity.

It didn't matter.

This part could not be simulated.

Because this was him.

Not just chakra.

Not just genius.

But him.

His will.

His love.

His longing for the woman who had never given up on him.

He grit his teeth and forced the gateway wider.

One more step—

And the world would be ripped open.

⸻

Outer Perimeter – Kyoto's Forest Outskirts, 27 kilometers east of the Yasaka Shrine

Yasaka stood alone atop a stone gate etched with fox runes older than the first yokai clans. Wind rushed through the treetops, rustling the ceremonial ribbon trails of her golden cloak.

The location was ancient—one of the three last unsealed gateways built into Kyoto's oldest leyline rivers. Forbidden to all but the highest yokai priestesses.

Only she had the right to open it. Only she ever had.

Except now… she hadn't.

And it was opening anyway.

The sky didn't split. The ground didn't crack. No theatrical show of divine descent played out.

Instead, the air grew heavy.

A presence, vast and immense, bled through the boundary between worlds like ink through parchment. The wind folded inward toward a single point, dragging leaves, mist, and spiritual resistance along with it.

And for a moment—

Yasaka couldn't breathe.

The seal at the heart of the gateway—a great ring of carved obsidian—began to glow faintly. Not golden like divine magic. Not crimson like devilcraft. Not the crystalline blue of angelic grace.

White.

And beneath it—pure chakra. Unfathomably dense. . Uncompromising. The leyline groaned as it tried to contain it.

The runes flared. One by one. Ancient limiters—designed to keep outsiders from entering Kyoto's core—shattered like glass.

Yasaka took a slow step forward, heart hammering.

She knew that chakra.

She knew it as surely as she knew the sound of her daughter's laughter.

The gateway was opening.

He had made it.

"…Naruto," she breathed.

The name tasted like lightning and sun-warmed stone.

For five years, she had refused to speak of him. Not even her most trusted advisors had learned the truth. Not the Elder Kitsune Council. Not the Shrine Guardians. Not even Kunou.

Especially not Kunou.

They had demanded answers. Shouted. Threatened. Pleaded.

Who had been powerful enough to father a child with Yasaka?

Who had won the heart of the most desired woman in the supernatural world—when even gods had failed?

How had this mysterious person done the impossible?

But she had given them nothing.

Because no one deserved to speak his name until he could speak it for himself.

Until they saw with their own eyes what she had seen.

Not a weapon.

Not a bloodline.

Not a pawn.

But a man—kind, impossible, radiant—who had given her two and a half years of secret, perfect peace… before fate stole him away.

And now…

She stepped forward slowly, her tails swaying behind her like a curtain of gold, her aura tightening around her like armor.

The seal at the gateway's core buckled, chakra roaring through the cracks like a dam failing to hold the sea.

The ground beneath her trembled.

Behind her, the protective barrier around Kyoto flared—a warning beacon. At least three clans would have felt it. The Shinto would feel it next.

They would come asking.

They would demand answers.

Yasaka's eyes narrowed as a golden ripple spread across the trees.

"…Let them come," she whispered. "They'll know soon enough."

She didn't smile.

Not yet.

Because even as her heart beat louder than the wind—

She hadn't seen him.

Not with her eyes.

Not with her soul.

Not yet.

But she would.

⸻

Kyoto – Yokai Council Hall, North Pavilion

The Kyoto Council Chamber was in uproar.

Scrolls fluttered off tables. Tea dishes cracked against the marble floor. Senior advisors stumbled to their feet as the entire mountain shuddered with a pulse of energy—deep, primal, foreign.

It wasn't divine. It wasn't demonic. It wasn't magic.

"Sound the inner ward bells!" barked Councilor Mizuchi, the Tengu elder. His wings flared involuntarily as the second pulse rolled through the chamber.

"We're under attack?" Councilor Jirou hissed. "That's chakra, but—that's not ours!"

"Impossible," someone else breathed. "No yokai has chakra this dense. This… it's not even Shinto. It's…"

the image of kunou cane to his mind

Then-

Another pulse.

Everyone dropped to one knee.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then came the scream.

⸻

Kyoto Shrine – East Wing, Yasaka's Inner Estate

The flame ignited with a roar.

Kunou screamed—eyes wide in panic—as her tiny body convulsed, surrounded by a storm of golden light. Her breath caught. Her hands flailed. The seals etched into her clothes flared, trying desperately to contain something they were never meant to hold.

And then they cracked.

Boom.

Every servant in the eastern wing collapsed.

Not because of a physical shockwave.

Because their knees buckled beneath them as a presence far greater than any yokai lord filled the room. They didn't faint. They didn't scream.

They submitted.

To something older. Deeper.

More dominant than anything they had ever felt.

They hit the ground in perfect synchrony—foreheads pressed into stone, unable to lift their heads.

And Kunou was crying.

"Make it stop! I didn't mean to! I didn't—!"

Flames erupted from her hands.

Golden. Blazing. Alive.

They weren't ordinary foxfire. They howled as if alive, searing through the air with a wrathful heat that made the walls bubble. Silken curtains combusted into nothingness. Wood beams didn't catch fire—they simply ceased to exist. The floor beneath her crumbled in a perfect circle, disintegrating into molten nothing where her feet touched.

And still the power leaked.

Another pulse tore through the estate. Every fox, tengu, tanuki—even the elite guards—dropped.

Mid-class yokai cried out in pain as their skin blistered from proximity alone.

Only the most elite among them—those closest to Yasaka herself—managed to crawl out of the epicenter on trembling hands, their clothing scorched, their auras fractured by the divine-burning heat.

Kunou stood frozen at the heart of it, sobbing uncontrollably, golden chakra lashing wildly around her like a living flame dragon.

"I didn't do anything! Mama—! MAMA!"

⸻

Yasaka felt it before the scream even reached her.

That unique powerful chakra.

Her daughter's.

She vanished from the gate without a word.

By the time she crossed the warded halls of the estate, she had broken three record seals and two speed barriers. Her aura shattered a gate as she tore through it.

But it still wasn't fast enough.

Because when she reached the east wing—

The floor was gone.

The walls were fire-blackened and warping under pressure.

And Kunou—her beautiful daughter—stood at the heart of a crater, surrounded by wild arcs of golden foxfire so radiant it made Yasaka herself freeze.

"…Golden?" she whispered.

It wasn't possible.

Blue was the strongest foxfire. She wielded blue.

This flame—this living sun—was hotter. Purer. Hungrier.

Yasaka's mouth opened, but no words came.

Everyone was unconscious or kneeling. The guards at the door hadn't even seen her arrive—they were curled against the floor like worshipers before a god.

Kunou looked up—and Yasaka's heart cracked.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were smoking with foxfire she couldn't extinguish.

"Mama, I didn't mean to!"

Yasaka was moving before her brain caught up.

The heat tried to burn her.

But Yasaka, cloaked in blue foxfire and sheer maternal will, stepped through the blazing vortex that had consumed half the palace.

Her tails snapped behind her like living banners. The golden inferno licked at her arms but pulled back in reverence—it recognized her blood, even if it didn't yield to her command.

At the center of it all floated her daughter—suspended three feet above the crumbling crater, a storm of chakra encasing her small body.

Kunou's foxfire spiraled like a star gone nova. Golden. Alive. Wrathful. Divine.

And then—

Another pulse.

This one came from beyond Kyoto.

⸻

Dimensional Fabric – The Cracks Widen

A fracture in reality widened like a splitting mirror.

Naruto's chakra—ancient, refined, alien to this world—broke through another seal, pouring into the space between dimensions. Not in waves. Not in bursts.

In resonance with kunou.

The chakra from father to daughter recognized itself.

The two pulses synced.

And Kyoto paid the price.

⸻

Kyoto – Everywhere

•A thousand fox statues across the city cracked at once.

•Spirit trees wept golden sap.

•The moon above Kyoto turned blood-orange, its light refracting unnaturally through the barrier field.

•Leyline streams reversed direction, howling through the earth like tidal rivers turned inside-out.

•Lightning split the clear sky in patterns, each stroke dancing to a pulse none could trace.

And high in the mountains, the Yokai Council's sacred tower crumbled at the base—not from impact, but from sheer spiritual overload.

Councilor Mizuchi, a Tengu elder older than most yokai, collapsed onto his hands, eyes wide with terror.

"That's not chakra…" he gasped. "That's a force of nature."

"No child should have that power," hissed another. "What—what is she?!"

But none of them could rise.

None of them could speak her name.

They all bowed, faces pressed to the ground, as Kunou's next evolution began.

⸻

East Wing

Kunou screamed again—no longer just in fear, but overwhelmed.

"Mamaaaa—I can't—make it stop!"

Yasaka reached her, arms outstretched.

And then—

Pulse.

Golden chakra chains shot from Kunou's back with the roar of a quake, slamming into the air like whips of molten law. They gouged rifts in the floor, spiraled through ceiling beams, and smashed glowing impact craters wherever they struck.

Yasaka flinched—not from fear, but because her chakra recoiled.

And yet Kunou wasn't in pain.

Her body glowed. Her eyes burned with light. Her spirit—her soul—was simply too vast for the shell that had contained it for five years.

Every seal that once protected her had long since dissolved.

Pulse.

The golden chakra erupted again, and this time—

Kunou ascended.

She floated higher into the air, arms spread wide, golden wisps of chakra unfurling behind her like nine spectral tails made of starlight.

Her feet left the crater rim entirely.

And then—

Elemental convergence.

The world answered her awakening.

Wind howled in from all four directions.

Lightning danced across the shattered ceiling.

Water condensed mid-air in orbs of glowing purity.

Earth tore from the ground in reverent spirals.

Fire twisted around her foxfire—but bowed to it.

She hovered like a goddess-in-waiting.

And yet her sobs only grew louder.

"I don't know what's happening! It won't stop! I can't stop it!"

⸻

Yasaka fell to one knee.

Her vision was blurry. Her skin was blistering. And her spirit—her very soul—was trembling beneath the pressure of her daughter's heritage.

She reached inward, tapped the Kyoto leylines, and began weaving.

"Forgive me…"

She poured everything she had—every drop of yokai power, every piece of her soul's connection to the land—into a city-wide cloaking barrier.

A containment dome.

A miracle forged from desperation.

Golden light expanded over Kyoto in a flash so bright it reversed the shadows. A hemisphere of blinding power locked the capital away from the rest of the world.

Yasaka bled from her nose and mouth.

She kept going.

Because if she didn't contain this…

The Shinto would come.

The devils would come.

The entire supernatural world would hunt her daughter.

Just a little longer… please…

But then—

Pulse.

The final surge.

Kunou's chakra reached critical mass.

The chains whipped backward. The elements swirled into a crown. Her body shone with incandescent gold.

A golden chakra cloak wrapped her in armor, shaped like a flame-blown kimono. Her hair lifted in strands of starlight.

She looked divine.

The cloak radiated Naruto's bloodline in every inch of motion. Her presence shifted from yokai royalty… to celestial anomaly.

And the barrier—

Cracked.

Yasaka screamed—not in fear, but in agony as her entire chakra system buckled under the strain.

"Please—please not now—!"

Then—

He appeared.

There was no flash.

No quake.

Just… presence.

Like the world had taken a breath and exhaled him into being.

He stepped through the veil—dust-streaked, cloak torn, eyes wild—and saw her.

His daughter.

The little girl he'd never gotten to hold.

Hovering above the ground in a storm of chakra so similar to his own.

He didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

He walked through the crater, ignoring the foxfire that pulled away from him in recognition.

Kunou's chains retracted.

Her flames flickered.

Her body turned.

It was like his very presence clamed down kunou's volatile chakra.

⸻

Kunou's pov

Kunou hovered like a comet untethered from the sky, caught in a swirling maelstrom of golden chakra she no longer understood. Her small body trembled—not from pain, but confusion. Fear. Panic.

Her golden cloak shimmered, wild and untamed. Her tails of light cracked and hissed through the air like divine whips. Lightning split the ceiling. Wind screamed around her like it was being hunted. The ground continued to fracture beneath her, the crater deepening with every pulse of her chakra.

She didn't understand any of it.

"Stop… just stop!" she sobbed, her voice nearly lost in the roar. "I didn't mean to—why won't it stop—why won't it—"

And then…

He stepped into the crater.

She didn't see him.

Her eyes were shut tight, fists clenched at her chest, shoulders shaking under the weight of her awakening.

She didn't sense him—not the way others would.

She felt everyone. Every terrified yokai. Every frightened priest. Even the earth itself pulling away from her presence.

But this one… this one didn't shrink away.

This chakra felt… right.

Not like hers.

Of hers.

Familiar in a way she couldn't explain.

But she was too afraid to think.

Until he reached her.

Until he wrapped his arms around her.

Gently.

No resistance. No seals. No suppressive yokai techniques .

Just warmth.

Real. Steady. Unshakable.

Her entire body jolted.

She opened her eyes, startled—not at the touch, but at the silence that followed.

The storm had stilled.

The fire had vanished.

The elements had gone still in midair—like children pausing in reverence.

Her chains were gone.

The heat… the crackling noise… even the weight pressing on her lungs… gone.

She blinked rapidly. Her tears slowed.

There were arms around her. Strong. Protective. Familiar.

She should have panicked.

She should have pulled away.

No one should be able to get this close. No one could withstand her chakra. Everyone else collapsed or burned or screamed.

But not him.

Not this man.

He just held her.

No jutsu. No magic.

Just presence.

She pressed a trembling hand against his chest.

She felt it.

His chakra. Deep. Radiant. Warm.

It pulsed in perfect rhythm with hers.

She froze.

Her mind spun in quiet realization.

Why does this feel so familiar?

Why does it feel like I know this chakra? Why does it feel like it's always been part of me?

Her sobs came again, slower this time.

Confused.

Soft.

She lifted her gaze—

And met his eyes.

Blue.

Just like hers.

His whiskers. Just like hers.

Tears poured silently down his face as he looked at her—not with fear. Not with awe.

But love.

Vast, infinite, aching love.

The same look Mama gave her when she tucked her in at night.

But deeper. Rawer.

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Her throat caught.

Her heart hurt.

Her eyes burned.

She didn't know who he was.

She had never seen this man before in her life.

And yet—

She knew him.

Why is he looking at me like that?

Why is he crying?

Why am I crying?

Why does his chakra feel so warm?

So safe?

So like home?

Her tiny lips trembled. She pressed her face against his shoulder, shuddering as the truth sank into her bones.

Not a thought.

Not a memory.

An instinct.

A soul's cry answered at last.

"…Papa?" she whispered.

Her voice cracked as it left her mouth, small and helpless and hopeful.

Naruto broke.

His arms tightened around her, his shoulders shaking with sobs that no battlefield had ever pulled from him.

"I'm here," he choked. "I'm here, sweetie."

He buried his face in her hair, overwhelmed by the weight of five years of silence.

And she held him back.

Desperately.

Fiercely.

As if afraid he might vanish again.

She cried into his chest, soaking the front of his scorched tunic, her small fists clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her from falling.

And for the first time since she had awakened—

The crater stopped cracking.

The air cooled.

The world exhaled.

⸻

Yasaka stood frozen at the edge of the scorched stone, her knees trembling for the first time in centuries.

The golden light had dimmed.

The sky no longer wept lightning.

The earth no longer moaned.

There—at the heart of the shattered world—stood him.

Naruto.

He hadn't changed.

And yet he had.

He held Kunou like she was sacred. Like she was oxygen. Like she was the meaning behind every breath he had taken for the past five years.

Her daughter—a girl born of secret love, of whispered nights and stolen peace.

Her little girl, now crying into the chest of the only man who had ever made her feel… whole.

She should've moved.

She should've flown to them.

But Yasaka's breath caught.

Not because she was afraid.

Because she was breaking.

Her walls—stone-etched, queen-forged, divine-tempered—cracked all at once.

She had never allowed herself to imagine this moment.

She had guarded her heart like a fortress from the very day the veil stole him from her.

And now he was standing here, real, with their daughter in his arms.

Tears ran down her cheeks.

Silently.

She covered her mouth with one trembling hand, the other pressed against her chest like she was holding her soul in place.

He turned.

Slowly.

Still holding Kunou, whose little fists were knotted in his shirt, Naruto turned toward her.

Their eyes met.

She didn't speak.

She couldn't.

The last time she'd seen him, she had kissed him goodbye through a collapsing portal while screaming silently inside her heart.

Now he stood in front of her like he'd only been gone a day.

"Yasaka," he said softly.

Her name, spoken in his voice, shattered whatever strength she had left.

She fell forward—not collapsed, not injured—just… moved.

Like gravity no longer applied.

She stepped down into the crater, slowly, like crossing a dream.

Naruto watched her come, his jaw tight, his eyes glassed with tears he refused to blink away.

Kunou looked between them, confused—but she didn't let go.

Yasaka reached them.

She didn't say anything.

She didn't need to.

She walked straight into his free arm and buried her face in his chest beside Kunou.

Naruto's arm folded around her like it had never forgotten.

And just like that—

After five long years of silence, separation, and unbearable waiting—

They were whole again.

No thrones.

No powers.

No barriers.

Just two lovers and their daughter—together for the first time.

Yasaka let her tears fall into the crook of his neck.

"I missed you," she whispered, so quietly it was nearly lost in Kunou's quiet sobs.

Naruto closed his eyes.

"I know."

He kissed the top of her head.

"I missed you too."

The three of them stood there in the broken crater of a ruined palace, surrounded by the scars of divine chakra and yokai reverence, as the chaos of the world bent quietly around them.

Not in destruction.

In reverence.

⸻

The wind had stilled.

Kunou's tears had slowed, though she remained tucked against Naruto's chest, her chakra now settled like a warm golden current beneath her skin. Her heartbeat had found a rhythm. Her breathing, though hitching at times, was steady.

But her mind?

Her thoughts were racing.

She finally pulled back—just a little—enough to look up at him. Her voice came quietly, and then faster, and faster, like a storm that had found its voice after the silence.

"…Are you really my papa?"

Naruto gave a gentle nod, eyes misted.

"…Where were you? Why weren't you here before?"

"…Did Mama know you were coming? Why didn't she tell me anything about you? She always changed the subject."

"…What kind of yokai are you? You're not a Tengu, or a fox, or anything I've ever smelled before."

"…Is that why my chakra felt weird my whole life? Because of you?"

"…Why do you look like me?"

"…Where were you all this time?"

"…Are you going to leave again?"

Each word came like a thread unraveling from her heart—raw, unfiltered, desperate to be caught up before they scattered.

Naruto's smile trembled. His hand gently cupped the back of her head, brushing golden hair behind her ear.

"I promise," he said quietly, "I'll answer every one of those. I'll tell you everything."

Kunou blinked at him, waiting. "You will?"

"I will. Just not all at once." He kissed her forehead softly. "Your mama might still strangle me first."

"I might," came a dry voice from beside them.

Yasaka had stepped back, watching them with unreadable eyes. Her tears were gone now, but her cheeks still bore their mark. Her posture was regal again—but not cold. Not now.

She knelt beside them, smoothing Kunou's hair with a faint smile.

"I'd love nothing more than to stay here forever," she said softly. "But we have to be careful. We just shook the entire mountain—and not all the witnesses will stay quiet."

Naruto's face sobered instantly.

Yasaka glanced at him, golden eyes sharp despite the tenderness behind them. "There's only a short window before my council regroups. They were inside the barrier. They saw what happened. They felt Kunou's chakra. They'll demand answers."

"And if you don't give them any?" Naruto asked quietly.

"They'll try to take them."

He frowned—but Yasaka was already standing.

"You two need time," she said. "I'll handle the council. But Naruto—don't let your guard down. These people aren't enemies, but they fear what they don't understand."

She hesitated, then knelt once more. Her hand cupped his cheek gently—an intimate gesture filled with five years of aching silence.

"And you," she whispered, "are something they'll never understand."

Naruto covered her hand with his own.

"You're not alone anymore, Yasaka. Not in this."

She nodded once, then turned to Kunou.

"I'll be back soon, little sun. Stay with him."

Kunou clutched Naruto tighter, eyes still wide. "…Okay."

Yasaka's expression softened—motherly, but shadowed by weight.

Then she was gone, vanishing in a shimmer of blue flame.

Leaving father and daughter alone beneath the stars.

⸻

A Few Minutes Later

Naruto sat cross-legged in the grass just beyond the shattered edge of the crater, his jacket folded neatly beside him, the night air cool against his skin. Kunou sat squarely in his lap, curled against him with her tails flicking back and forth in slow, unconscious patterns.

They were surrounded by scorched stone, cracked earth, and what had once been an ornamental plum tree—now a half-melted stump. But in the middle of it all, a new kind of warmth had settled.

The warmth of home.

"…So," Kunou said, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, "are you a yokai?"

Naruto chuckled. "Nope."

"Then what are you? You smell like lightning and sage leaves and sun and… ramen?"

Naruto laughed aloud at that. "I get that a lot. I'm a human—at least, technically."

Kunou blinked. "That's boring! Humans are squishy and weak and don't do anything cool."

"Hey now," he teased, ruffling her hair. "I'll have you know I'm a very cool human. Exceptionally cool."

Kunou narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How cool?"

Naruto raised one hand and wiggled his fingers. "Cool enough to beat dragons, gods, and a very angry old man who tried to eat the moon."

Kunou gasped dramatically, sitting up straight in his lap. "You fought the moon?"

Naruto grinned. "Well, technically I fought a guy on the moon. He had a glowing eye and kept giving speeches about destiny."

"That's so weird!" she said, throwing her hands up. "What kind of person lives on the moon? That sounds dumb."

"Oh believe me," Naruto muttered, "he was."

Kunou snorted.

It sounded suspiciously like his own laugh when he tried to cover it.

He blinked.

She was already launching into another question, her words tumbling out in a breathless flurry.

"Okay okay—but where were you? Why didn't you come back sooner? Did Mama know you were coming? Did she send you? Did you escape from somewhere? Were you—wait—were you cursed?!"

Naruto couldn't stop himself. He threw his head back and laughed again—full-bodied, warm, alive.

"Sweetie, slow down. You're like a little whirlwind."

"You didn't answer!" she pouted, arms crossed.

There it was—that Uzumaki stubbornness. Naruto had seen that exact expression in the mirror growing up. And in Boruto when he didn't want to go to bed.

His heart squeezed.

"I wasn't cursed," he said gently. "Five years ago, I was pulled back to my world by something I couldn't control. I didn't want to leave. I fought it—but the whole universe pushed me away. Hard."

Kunou's ears flattened slightly.

"But I promised myself I'd come back," he continued. "I spent every day since then trying to figure out how. I studied, trained, built seals, failed a lot, blew up my house —"

"You blew up your house?!"

He scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. "Twice, actually."

Kunou giggled.

"And Mama didn't tell me because…?" she asked slowly.

Naruto's smile dimmed just a little.

"She was trying to protect you," he said softly. "From people who would've tried to hurt you if they knew what you really were. If they knew what I am."

Kunou looked down at her hands. "Because I'm weird?"

"No," he said immediately. He tilted her chin up so she had to meet his eyes. "Because you're powerful. More than you know. And because you're special. People fear what they can't control, and mama and I couldn't let you become someone else's weapon."

Her lip trembled just slightly.

Naruto pulled her close again, wrapping her in both arms.

"And because I love you," he whispered. "So does your mama. We both love you so, so much."

There was a pause.

Then:

"…Are you stronger than Mama?"

Naruto blinked. "Well, um… define stronger."

"She says she's the strongest yokai queen in a thousand years," Kunou said proudly.

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… she's not wrong."

"But you hugged me and made the world stop exploding."

"…That's true too."

Kunou narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"I'm calling it a tie," Naruto said quickly.

"Hmmmm."

She stared at him for another beat.

Then grinned.

Naruto smiled back, and in that grin—wide, wild, utterly confident—he saw himself.

Same glint in the eye.

Same flash of too-big-for-their-face joy.

She didn't have to say anything.

He already knew: this little girl was his, through and through.

The way she scrunched her nose when she was about to ask something important.

The way her chakra flared slightly when she was excited.

The way she leaned forward a little too much when she was telling a story, like she was afraid her words might outrun her mouth.

He was watching a mirror.

One that had Yasaka's hair.

And his soul.

"…I missed a lot," he whispered, almost to himself.

Kunou blinked. "Huh?"

Naruto looked at her, eyes soft.

"I missed your first words. Your first steps. Your first tantrum, first prank, first day of training. I missed five years of hearing you laugh."

His voice caught.

"But I'm here now."

Kunou looked up at him.

Then down at his hand.

She reached out and placed her tiny fingers over his.

"You're not allowed to leave again."

He squeezed her hand.

"Never again."

And in that quiet garden, surrounded by ruin, two generations of Uzumaki sat side by side beneath the stars.

And for a few stolen minutes—

The world was perfect.

⸻

Kunou sat quietly now, still nestled in Naruto's lap, her hands folded in her lap. The air around them had settled to a low golden hum—her chakra now soft, but still present. Like her emotions: no longer wild, but deepening.

She stared at him. Hard. Brow furrowed.

"…You're really from a different world?"

Naruto nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Like… not just another country? Or like the Celestial Realm or Tartarus or one of the sealed divine zones?"

"Nope. Completely different dimension."

Kunou's jaw dropped.

"That's not fair!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air. "You're a human! You're not supposed to be able to do that!"

Naruto laughed, nearly tipping them both over. "You sound just like Shikamaru and the Council back home."

Kunou blinked. "Shika-who?"

"Never mind," Naruto said, ruffling her hair. "He's a guy who frowns a lot and sighs even more."

"But—wait, wait, wait." She squirmed to sit up straighter in his lap. "If you're from a different world… does that mean my chakra is from your world?"

Naruto's smile dimmed into something softer.

"…Yeah," he said. "It is."

Kunou's eyes went huge. "Then I'm not… I'm not just a yokai?"

He hesitated, then cupped her cheeks. "No. You're something more. Something new."

Kunou looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers.

"I always thought I was broken," she whispered. "Everyone's chakra feels right. Mine feels like it's… sleeping. Hiding. And when it started leaking, Mama had to use sealing robes just to keep it from getting out."

Naruto's heart clenched.

He pulled her close again, resting his chin on her head. "You weren't broken. You were just waiting."

"…Waiting for what?"

He smiled.

"For this moment. When you'd meet me. When you'd wake up."

She sniffled, wiping her nose on his sleeve without shame. "So… I'm not weird?"

Naruto leaned back and gave her the softest look he'd ever worn.

"You're absolutely weird."

Kunou gasped.

"Papa!"

"But," he added, poking her in the nose, "so am I. And weird is what makes us awesome."

She stuck out her tongue. "That sounds like something I would say."

He grinned. "You did just say it."

That earned a giggle-snort from her—and then her mind was off again like a bolt of lightning.

"Okay okay okay—what's your world like? Do all humans have chakra like us? Do they float in the air and shoot fire and make things explode with their minds?"

"Well," Naruto said, scratching the back of his neck, "not all humans. Just the cool ones."

"Like you?" she said suspiciously.

Naruto wiggled his eyebrows. "Like your papa."

Kunou puffed up proudly, then deflated a little.

"…So if I was born in your world, I wouldn't be weird?"

Naruto paused.

"No," he said gently. "You'd still be weird."

Kunou opened her mouth.

"But you'd be surrounded by people who understand weird. People like you. Kids with kekkei genkai. People who train for years to master chakra. Villages that build everything around it. You'd be special, yeah, but you wouldn't be alone."

Her lips trembled slightly. "So… you were born with this kind of chakra too?"

"Kind of," he said. "I was born with it—but I was born alone, too. People didn't like me when I was a kid. They feared my power."

"…So you were the weird one?"

"Yup," he said with a grin. "And now I'm Hokage. Ruler of the village. Strongest shinobi alive. Married. Two kids. Wild life."

Kunou's eyes went saucer-wide. "YOU'RE A KING?!"

Naruto laughed. "More like a president. But with more paperwork."

She gasped. "You said you have two kids?"

He nodded.

"You have a baby brother named Boruto. He's just a year old."

Kunou blinked.

then blinked agian.

Her ears twitched.

"Wait," she said slowly, staring up at him. "You have… two kids?"

Naruto froze for a heartbeat, just now registering what he told kunou.

Then nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "You… and your brother."

Kunou's face scrunched. "…But I'm not a baby. You said Boruto is a baby. That makes him the second kid. I came first!"

Naruto blinked. "Well, yeah, technically—"

"Then why does he live with you?" she asked, voice still small, but tinged with something sharp now. "Why don't I?"

Naruto's heart sank. He took a slow breath.

"Because," he said gently, "I was pulled away from this world before I ever knew you existed. Your mama… she was one month pregnant when I got torn away. I didn't even know I was going to be a father until it was too late."

Kunou's eyes shimmered. "So… you didn't leave because you wanted to?"

"No," he said fiercely. "Never."

Her throat worked.

"And Boruto's mama?"

Naruto hesitated.

"…Her name's Hinata. She's my wife now."

There was a pause.

A long one.

"…But Mama's not your wife."

"…No," he admitted. "We never got to that part. We wanted to. I was going to ask her."

Kunou's lip quivered, and she curled a little deeper into herself, confused and quiet.

Naruto pulled her gently into his lap again.

"Kunou," he said softly, "I love your mama. And I love you. So much it hurts. But when I got pulled back… life didn't wait. Years passed. People needed me. A whole world needed me. I made a promise to protect it—and to live."

He hesitated.

"But I never stopped loving your mother. I never stopped missing you. I spent every day trying to find my way back. Every single day."

Kunou stayed quiet for a while.

"…So Mama knew?" she asked finally.

Naruto's expression faltered agian.

"…No," he said. "She doesn't know yet."

Kunou looked up, blinking.

"What?"

Naruto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't told her. Not yet."

The five-year-old stared at him, lips parting. "…So you married someone else and had another baby and you didn't tell Mama?"

"…Yeah."

Silence.

It wasn't angry.

It was worse.

It was disappointed.

Kunou's ears drooped, and her tails went still.

"You're in trouble," she said finally.

Naruto winced. "Yeah. I know."

"…She's gonna yell."

"Probably."

"…She might punch you."

"Yup."

"…And you're gonna deserve it."

"Definitely."

Kunou crossed her arms in that dramatic way kids do when their entire sense of justice is offended. "Why didn't you tell her?!"

Naruto rubbed his face, exasperated. "Because I couldn't. Sweetie… I didn't just get lost or disappear. I got ejected. The world itself threw me out. I couldn't call, couldn't write, couldn't even look back."

He took a deep breath, voice lower now.

"For five years, I couldn't even sense this world. It was like a locked door I wasn't allowed to open. So even when I married Hinata… even when Boruto was born… I wanted to tell your mama. I just… couldn't."

Kunou's eyes widened slightly. "…You couldn't?"

He nodded. "Not until now. This gate I made—it's the first time in five years that the universe let me reach through. And it almost didn't work."

Kunou was quiet again, this time not from hurt—but realization.

"Oh."

She blinked. Then muttered under her breath:

"…Okay. Fine. You're still in trouble though."

Naruto grinned, ruffling her hair. "Fair."

She frowned at him, trying very hard to stay mad—but her voice cracked a little.

"You… still love Mama?"

Naruto didn't even hesitate.

"With all my heart," he said. "Nothing ever changed that. Not even time."

Kunou looked down at her lap.

"…And you love Hinata too?"

"I do."

"…That's weird."

"Tell me about it."

Kunou squinted suspiciously. "Are you gonna have more babies?"

Naruto choked. "What?! I mean—probably? I don't know!"

"I want a sister," Kunou declared.

"I… I'll write that down, I guess?"

She glanced up at him, ears twitching again. "So I have a brother. What's he like?"

Naruto smiled, warmth returning. "His name's Boruto. He's got more energy than a whole pack of shadow clones. He's loud, stubborn, bites everything, and I love him to pieces."

Kunou blinked.

"…So he's like me?"

Naruto paused.

Then grinned. "Exactly like you."

Kunou's face lit up.

"I'm gonna teach him to do pranks!" she declared. "We'll set traps in your office! I'll make him wear fox ears! Oh oh—and I'll teach him how to bite people!"

Naruto's smile twitched into something horrified. "Oh no. What have I unleashed—"

"I'm gonna be the best big sister ever."

"You're gonna be a menace."

"Same thing!"

she laused for a moment as if to recall an important fact, then-

"…Wait." She blinked. "If I have a baby brother…"

He nodded.

"…From another world…"

He nodded again.

"…And you are technically an alien—"

He blinked. "I—what?"

"—and my baby brother is also an alien…"

"—uh—"

"…Then I'm half-alien!" she exploded, throwing her hands into the air with sudden delight. "I'm a space-princess, Papa! A chakra-powered interdimensional space-princess!"

Naruto stared.

Then laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

Kunou was already spinning in circles in his lap.

"Wait until I tell the shrine guardians! I'm gonna make them call me Lady Star-Tail!"

Naruto wiped tears from his eyes, clutching his stomach. "Oh no… what have I done…"

"You gave me a title!"

He caught her mid-spin and pulled her close again, grinning.

"Yeah," he murmured. "That I did."

And deep in the moonlit garden, Kunou Uzumaki—the most powerful child Kyoto had ever seen—declared herself space royalty in her father's lap.

And Naruto didn't correct her.

He just laughed , and despite everything—despite the weight of all that still needed to be said, despite the hurt yet to come—he held her close, heart full to bursting.

His daughter.

His little whirlwind.

His star-tailed fox.

And somehow—miraculously—she wasn't broken.

She was healing.

Still curious.

Still laughing.

Still his.

And that made all the pain worth it.

⸻

Kyoto – Inner Court of the Shrine, High Pavilion Council Chamber

The emergency barrier flared across the central spire of Kyoto's main shrine, casting the interior halls in pale gold as Yasaka's advisors gathered in a panicked swarm. Scrolls floated half-burned. Several of the elder councilors had fainted. The stone underfoot still pulsed faintly from Kunou's outburst. Fear coated the air like ash.

Yasaka stood at the head of the chamber, her golden eyes sharp, her expression locked in the icy stillness of command.

Councilor Mizuchi, ever the loudest, stepped forward—his talons scraping the floor.

"Lady Yasaka," he barked, "we demand an explanation. That chakra wasn't divine. It wasn't even yokai. What did we just witness?!"

"The shrine cracked," snapped Jirou, a fox clan elder. "The leyline gates buckled! And the east wing is—gone! That wasn't Kunou's doing alone. Who was the other presence?!"

Murmurs rippled. Tails flicked anxiously. Some of the younger heads of clan sat trembling in their seats.

Yasaka didn't flinch.

"I will answer all questions when I am ready," she said coolly. "Right now, you are breathing because I contained what erupted."

Jirou bristled. "But surely you understand—"

"I understand exactly what happened," Yasaka cut in, her voice like steel wrapped in flame. "I understand that if you continue pressing me before my daughter is stable, I will choose her over your comfort. Again."

The room went deathly silent.

Mizuchi's jaw locked. "…Then at least tell us this: what is she?"

Yasaka's eyes narrowed to slits.

"My daughter," she said softly, "is herself."

That was the only answer they received.

And it was final.

⸻

Back at The Crater Garden

The stars had shifted slightly overhead—soft now, unmarred by storms or spiritual upheaval. The winds that once danced like wild spirits had gentled to a breeze. Kunou lay sprawled beside Naruto in the grass, her head resting on his thigh, tails lazily swaying.

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with leftover curiosity and mischief.

"…Hey, Papa?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You said people in your world can do chakra stuff too. But it's different, right?"

Naruto tilted his head. "Different how?"

Kunou gestured grandly with both hands. "Like, cool. Like not just throwing energy blasts or breathing fire—but like, crazy stuff. Something only you and I can do."

Naruto blinked.

Then grinned slowly.

"You wanna see something no yokai in this world's ever seen before?"

Kunou bolted upright, nearly vibrating. "YES. Show me your best! Show me your coolest! Show me—wait—do you have a secret space jutsu?!"

He snorted. "Something like that."

Naruto stood up slowly, brushing off his pants, and glanced toward the shattered perimeter where the plum tree used to be. The air was still crackling faintly with residual chakra.

Perfect.

He raised one hand.

"Watch carefully," he said, his voice quiet—serious now. "This isn't just something I do. It's something I am. You might be able to learn it too someday… but only because you're my daughter."

Kunou gasped and clutched her cheeks dramatically. "Inherited secret jutsu?! Best. Day. Ever."

Naruto chuckled, then exhaled… and stepped into Sage Mode.

Not with fanfare. Not with a blast.

But with a hum.

Golden energy shimmered around his form as his eyes sharpened—those familiar toad-like irides surrounded by burning orange pigmentation. His presence shifted.

The earth held its breath.

Kunou's jaw dropped. "…You turned into a spirit animal."

Naruto laughed. "Not quite. This is Sage Mode. It lets me draw in the natural energy around me—like the mountain, the sky, even the stars—and weave it into my chakra."

Kunou slowly rose to her feet, ears perked and eyes huge. "…But I can't feel it. It's not even burning."

"That's because it's not raw power." He turned and tapped the ground lightly with his toe. The air fractured.

Kunou's mouth fell open as a wave of tremors pulsed outward—not destructive, not damaging—but the entire garden moved. Stones rose into the air in neat concentric rings. The broken tree stump bent backward like it was bowing. The stars above twinkled once—then dimmed.

Because Naruto's chakra had synced with the natural world itself.

"This," he whispered, "is Quake Release."

He slammed his palm into the air.

Boom.

Reality warped.

A perfect ring of compressed vibration cracked the sky—no fire, no lightning, no jutsu seals—just raw, directed pressure. The clouds above twisted like a spiral drawn in reverse.

Kunou screamed—in delight.

"That was so cool! That wasn't even magic! It was just—just—booshk!" She mimed an airwave with both arms. "You broke the sky with your hand, Papa!"

Naruto laughed again. "And that's just the start."

He knelt beside her, cupping her hands between his much larger ones, his chakra bleeding gently into her palms—not enough to overwhelm, just enough to guide.

"This… is ours," he said softly. "This isn't a bloodline you'll find in a scroll. Not something the yokai know. Not even the humans in my world understand it. I didn't learn it from anyone. It was born in me."

Kunou stared down at her hands as they began to tremble—not from fear, but from something warm bubbling inside her. A pulse. A thrum. A soundless hum beneath the skin.

"Quake Release," Naruto whispered. "It's not elemental. Not divine. It's something older. A pressure chakra. Sound, vibration, force. I call it Quake. You won't find it in the yokai libraries."

"Because it doesn't belong here," Kunou whispered in awe.

"Right," he said. "Just like you."

She looked up sharply—but he was smiling.

"Not because you're wrong," he added quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because you're rare. Something new. Something this world's never seen."

Kunou's tails twitched behind her. Her eyes glowed faintly now—drawn not by yokai technique, but by inherited resonance. Her chakra flared just enough to rattle a few pebbles at her feet.

"Oh… oh no," she muttered, wobbling. "I'm gonna pass out from excitement."

Naruto laughed, catching her before she could fall backward.

"We're not done," he said, crouching beside her again. "You wanted something special? Let me show you something that was once unique to a certain clan but now only my kids can do."

Kunou's ears twitched so hard Naruto half-expected them to take off like wings.

"Only your kids can do?" she whispered, barely able to contain herself. "Papa, if I don't get to see it right now, I'm going to explode and combust into sparkles!"

Naruto snorted. "Alright, alright. Sit tight. And don't combust—your mom will definitely kill me if I break you on the first night."

Kunou bounced in place, her hands balled up in her lap.

Naruto stood, took a breath, and let his chakra flow—not Quake, not Sage Mode.

This time… something else.

His skin glowed faintly with soft green highlights. A pulse of harmony coursed through his veins—earth chakra woven into life itself.

Mokuton.

Wood Release.

The power that once bent entire forests at the will of a single man—now resurrected in the hands of his distant successor.

Kunou blinked.

"Wait… are you glowing again? You're doing the glowy thing! Is this Sage Mode again? Or—is this like—plant jutsu?!"

Naruto smiled faintly and walked to the center of the cracked garden.

"Close your eyes."

"What? No! I wanna see!"

"Trust me."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously… but obeyed.

Naruto extended both hands.

His chakra sank into the soil.

And then—

The world bloomed.

A soundless pulse rippled through the ground. Beneath their feet, the cracked stone softened—transmuted into rich loam. Vines crept from the edges of the crater, snaking toward the center like reverent pilgrims. Flowers—alien to Kyoto's climate—burst to life in kaleidoscopic waves. Pale bluebells, golden lilies, silver-tipped grass that hummed with chakra resonance.

And then…

The roots came.

Thick, pulsing with color-shifting bark, they rose in spirals—taller than trees, wider than shrine gates. They wove together in a ring. And from that ring—

A sakura tree erupted.

But not an ordinary one.

The trunk shimmered, fluid and opalescent, shifting hues from rose-gold to moonlit silver with each heartbeat. Its bark gleamed like polished pearl. And above—

Branches arced like cathedral arches, unfolding wide and vast until they crowned the entire garden with glowing canopy.

Each leaf was a petal. Each petal shimmered.

A thousand shades of light poured down—rainbow-hued glowing blossoms drifting gently through the sky like falling stars.

The whole garden lit up in iridescent radiance.

Kunou opened her eyes—

And gasped.

She didn't speak.

She couldn't.

The tree towered above her—otherworldly, alive with shifting chakra that sang without sound. Petals kissed her cheeks as they drifted downward like glowing feathers. The air pulsed like a heartbeat. Like home.

"Papa…" she whispered, breath caught in her throat. "It's beautiful."

Naruto didn't say anything.

He knelt beside her again—and from his palm, a bud bloomed.

Not a sakura.

A rose.

Twisting, alive, glowing faintly.

Its petals shimmered like stained glass—each one fading between colors as if uncertain what hue to keep. Blues became gold, purples softened into pinks, edges tipped with fiery orange that never stayed still.

A living rainbow, cradled in his hand.

He offered it to her.

Kunou reached out slowly, as if afraid she might break it.

"It's for you," he said gently.

She took it.

And it didn't wither.

It glowed brighter in her hands.

Because it recognized her.

Her chakra.

His daughter.

Her lower lip trembled.

She looked up at him—eyes wide, voice shaking.

"Can… can I do that someday?"

Naruto grinned.

"You already can," he said. "You just don't know how yet."

Kunou clutched the rose to her chest and squealed, spinning in place under the glowing sakura blossoms.

"I'M GONNA BE A GARDEN QUEEN SPACE PRINCESS!"

Naruto laughed so hard he had to brace his knees.

And under the light of the tree that shouldn't exist, in a world that had never known chakra like theirs, father and daughter laughed—

And the rainbow petals danced around them, proof that even across dimensions…

Blood recognized blood.

And love made the impossible bloom.

⸻

Kyoto – High Pavilion Council Chamber – Five Minutes Later

The chamber was mid-chaos again.

Councilor Mizuchi had begun pacing.

Three of the elder scribes were arguing about leyline collapse theory. Another was openly weeping into a scroll. The spiritual temperature of the room had dropped so low, one of the junior advisors had started seeing his breath.

And Yasaka?

Yasaka was barely keeping her composure.

She stood perfectly still at the head of the room, hands folded neatly within her sleeves, lips pressed into a thin line.

The council was not happy.

"Lady Yasaka," came the cold, tight voice of Councilor Jirou once again, "we require more than vague reassurances. The eastern district is smoking. Half the mountain foxes are unconscious, the barrier flared twice, and—"

A panicked voice slammed through the silence.

"My Lady!"

The chamber doors burst open, and a soot-covered tanuki scout skidded into the room on all fours. His breath came in short gasps, his fur singed at the edges.

Yasaka's eyes sharpened instantly. "Report."

The tanuki swallowed hard and bowed so low his whiskers scraped the stone.

"There's… there's a tree, my lady."

The council blinked.

"…A tree," Jirou repeated, deadpan.

"A sakura!" the scout blurted. "A massive sakura tree—it just grew out of the ground in the crater garden! Glowing! Radiating chakra! Never seen anything like it—rainbow petals! Rainbow!"

Yasaka's eye twitched.

"Oh gods," the scout went on, "and—and the child! Kunou-sama is beneath it! Sitting there like it's the most normal thing in the world—and—and—"

He choked.

"And there's a man!"

The entire chamber froze.

"What man?" Mizuchi asked sharply.

The scout paled. "He's… human. Blonde. Young. Looks like the girl. His chakra's like nothing I've ever felt—it's not divine, not yokai, not anything. But it sings with Kunou-sama's. They're in perfect resonance. It's like the whole mountain is holding its breath."

Yasaka closed her eyes.

She didn't even sigh.

Just pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"…That idiot," she muttered under her breath.

Silence.

Dead silence.

And then—

Every head in the room slowly and mechanically turned to her.

One by one.

Eyes wide.

Brows arched.

Jaws slack.

Every single councilor turned their neck—like a slow, synchronized wave—until the entire High Pavilion was staring directly at her.

As if to say:

"what the fuck woman explain this shit . Now!."

Yasaka's eye twitched again.

The tanuki scout looked between the council and their queen, his mouth opening and closing helplessly.

No one said a word.

No one had to.

They where all looking at her as if daring her to deny this shit to their faces again.

Their eyes said everything:

"…You said he was dead."

"…You said he was 'no longer in the picture.'"

"…You said nothing else for five years."

"…You said you were mourning, not lying!?"

Yasaka said nothing.

She didn't flinch. She didn't blink.

She merely adjusted the sleeve of her robe with the slow, deliberate grace of a woman who had absolutely no regrets and even less patience for drama.

The silence thickened.

Councilor Mizuchi's wings gave a single, involuntary twitch.

"…So," he began delicately, "Kunou-sama's father. That human. The one with the absurd chakra. The one who just birthed a divine rainbow tree in the middle of your ancestral courtyard."

He paused, voice climbing in pitch.

"That is the man you said might have died?!"

Yasaka exhaled through her nose.

"I thought he was dead," she said calmly.

"He grew a reality-warping garden and made the sky shimmer like a myth!"

"I was very wrong," she replied without shame.

Councilor Jirou was rubbing his temples now.

"And you just… you never mentioned he was human? You never thought to share that little detail with your advisors? The Kitsune Council? The Shinto Court?!"

Yasaka tilted her head, eyes cold and amused.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice honeyed and deadly. "I didn't realize I needed your permission to fall in love."

Mizuchi made a sound that might have been a strangled fox-bark.

"A human, Yasaka!" he burst out. "You slept with a human! That's—unhygienic!"

Yasaka's smile was pure frost. "Are you implying I lack taste, Councilor?"

"I'm implying you—he—they're the weakest species on the planet!"

Another voice piped up, nervous and high-pitched. "Not… not this one, apparently…"

Yasaka folded her arms. "Glad to see someone in this room has eyes."

Councilor Jirou, somehow still clinging to reason like a cat to a tree in a typhoon, leaned forward.

"So let me understand this clearly. You—Lady Yasaka, High Priestess of Kyoto, Queen of the Yokai—fell in love with a human. You had a child with him. You told no one. You let us all believe he was dead. And now, five years later, he's reappeared, hugged the literal apocalypse out of your daughter,

yasaka narrowed her eyes 'how did he know about that part'

,planted a chakra-blossoming space tree in the middle of our estate, and is currently having a picnic under it like this is normal?!"

"…Yes."

Jirou stared at her.

Yasaka stared back.

Then, very slowly, Jirou leaned back in his chair, placed his head in his hands, and whispered, "I'm too old for this shit."

The younger councilors were faring no better.

One of the crane clan lords was hyperventilating into a ceremonial teacup.

A tanuki chieftain had quietly slumped to the floor, mouthing "human… human… human…" like it was a curse.

Mizuchi flailed his wings in frustrated disbelief. "And the child! Kunou-sama! She has his chakra?! That's what we've been trying to seal for years? You let us believe it was a yokai mutation!"

"I said her chakra was unique," Yasaka replied smoothly. "You're the ones who made assumptions."

A fox matron in the corner sputtered. "You weaponized semantics?!"

Yasaka looked almost amused now.

"I weaponize many things. Including discretion."

Someone choked.

"Your Majesty," Councilor Jirou groaned into his palms, "this is going to be a diplomatic catastrophe."

"And whose fault is that?" Yasaka asked sweetly. "I gave you five years to stop asking. You did. So I stopped telling."

"But—but the balance! The bloodlines! The factions! The purity laws—"

Yasaka rolled her eyes. "Do I look like I care about purity laws?"

There was a long pause.

"No," someone whispered. "You look like you're two seconds from murdering everyone who mentions the word human again."

"Correct," she said cheerfully.

Silence fell again.

The rainbow tree was still glowing in the distance.

And so was the council's collective panic.

After a very long moment, Mizuchi sighed.

"…Do we even want to ask what this human's name is?"

Yasaka turned, golden eyes gleaming with quiet pride.

"Yes," she said, almost reverently. "His name is Naruto."

"Naruto what?"

She smiled wider.

"Uzumaki."

Pause.

Jirou's eye twitched.

"…That sounds like ramen."

Yasaka didn't deny it.

She merely looked out the window.

Toward the glowing sky.

Toward the man under the sakura.

And without apology, said:

"Deal with it."

and then got up and left right out the door.

And every single elder, advisor, and councilor in the Kyoto High Pavilion silently, collectively, spiritually screamed.

⸻

A few moments later

The council chamber was a battlefield of spiritual breakdown.

Scrolls smoldered gently in ceremonial trays. Mizuchi was still pacing like a priest on caffeine withdrawal. Jirou hadn't looked up from where he was whispering to himself about "unregistered divine flora." One of the tanuki elders was curled under his chair muttering "she mated with a human" on loop like a bad curse.

And then—

A shimmer of blue light flared in the air near the exit corridor.

The council froze—again.

Yasaka's head slowly leaned back into view.

Just her head.

Not an astral projection. Not a regal reappearance.

Just her visible head, tilted casually into the room as if she were reminding them to take out the trash on her way out the door. The rest of her body remained comfortably outside, clearly not invested in this meeting.

Her voice came light. Breezy. Cheerful.

"Oh," she said, tilting her head faintly. "Almost forgot."

The council braced instinctively.

She didn't shout.

She didn't glow.

But the moment stretched thin as gold thread.

Then—boom.

A wave of killing intent dropped like a velvet guillotine.

Not overwhelming. Not blazing. Just inconveniently soul-crushing.

Every elder stiffened. Several younger councilors whimpered. The air itself seemed to lean away from her presence like it didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

Her eyes gleamed.

"If anyone here breathes a word of what happened tonight—of Kunou's heritage, of who her father is, or of what you think you saw—I will not simply be upset."

She smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

"I will consider it treason against my daughter. And I am not nearly as merciful as she is."

There was a collective swallow.

Yasaka's tone dropped one octave into the realm of politeness that threatened extinction.

"Try me."

She held their gazes for a beat longer, then slowly leaned out of view.

Footsteps.

Door click.

Silence.

Mizuchi stared at the space she had just occupied.

"…Did she just—lean her head in to threaten us and then leave again?"

Jirou groaned into his sleeve. "I think she came back just to insult us."

A junior scribe whispered, "Was that worse than the tree?"

"Yes," came a dozen answers in unison.

They sat in stunned stillness, surrounded by the echoes of a woman who couldn't be bothered to step fully back into the room to properly scare them.

⸻

Celestial Realm – Shinto Pantheon – Palace of Heavenly Radiance

The realm of the Shinto gods existed in perfect stillness—floating above mortal comprehension, woven from divine threads of ritual and silence. Here, time did not pass. It accumulated. Folded. Respected hierarchy and sloth in equal measure.

Amaterasu sat upon her throne of mirrored obsidian, her form draped in sunlight that never dimmed. Her golden eyes, half-lidded with disinterest, gazed across the mist-veiled horizon of the mortal plane without truly seeing it.

She had not moved in hours.

Possibly days.

Until—

A flicker.

So brief it could've been a speck of dust on the celestial mirror.

But it wasn't.

Her gaze sharpened by a fraction.

A single sliver of unnatural pressure had brushed against the edges of Kyoto. Not divine. Not yokai. Not kami.

Something diffrent .

Something weirdly familiar—and not welcome.

The disturbance was gone as quickly as it came.

Amaterasu's fingers twitched once upon the hilt of her sheathed blade.

A stir in the divine court. Nothing more.

A dozen minor kami froze mid-scroll or mid-nap, waiting to see if their empress would act.

She didn't.

She merely exhaled through her nose.

"…Too brief," she murmured. "Not worth rising."

One of her attendants, the crane-born seer of the Southern Shrine, dared to speak. "Did you sense it, my lady?"

"A disturbance," Amaterasu replied, bored again already. "Possibly a failed summoning. Perhaps a yokai's spiritual tantrum. Or perhaps Kyoto remembered what power used to feel like."

The seer paused. "Should we investigate?"

Amaterasu waved a lazy hand. "If it happens again, perhaps. For now, let Yasaka clean up her own courtyard."

Another kami blinked from their seat of woven reeds. "The yokai queen?"

"She has always invited chaos," Amaterasu replied. "It is her nature."

"Should we remind her of the accords?"

"No," Amaterasu said, standing at last. "Let her think herself free. That is the crueler punishment."

And with a yawn that split the sky, the goddess of the sun turned her back on Kyoto.

The gods returned to sleep.

The storm, as far as they knew, had passed.

But one of the smaller kami—quiet, long-forgotten, curled beneath the prayer basin of the First Shrine—watched the mortal realm with narrowed eyes.

"…That was no tantrum," the little god whispered. "That was an echo."

⸻

Mount Olympus – The Immortal Court – Throne of the Skies

A storm brewed lazily around the heights of Olympus. Lightning flickered across thunderclouds that never quite broke. Beneath the marble vaults of the Olympian stronghold, the gods held court—not in order, nor in harmony, but in their usual chorus of self-interest and barely contained ego.

Zeus sat on his throne, a jagged edifice of storm-forged gold, gazing out over the mortal world with narrowed eyes.

He had felt it.

Only for a moment.

But it had been real.

Not divine.

Not mortal.

And not Olympian.

An unnatural pulse—powerful, pressure-based, similar to the shinto chakra-laced energy but different, more powerful more pure. Something foreign had flickered across Kyoto, and then vanished.

Too brief to grasp. Too faint to follow.

But it had touched Olympus, even if only as an echo on the wind.

And Zeus did not like surprises.

"…shinto," he muttered, thunder rumbling behind his molars.

Across the hall, Hermes paused mid-joke with Apollo, his golden caduceus twitching as if it had overheard something important.

"You felt it too?" he asked, voice suddenly casual.

Zeus didn't look at him.

"I felt something," he said. "In the Shinto domain. Wrapped in that damn fox queen's barrier."

"Yasaka," Ares said from the foot of the dais. His voice was rough, low. Too eager.

Zeus finally turned. "You still sniffing around her like a stray mongrel?"

Ares bared his teeth in a smile. "She's fun," he said, stretching one arm behind his head. "Cold eyes. Sharp tongue. Good with fire. I like women who don't scream too quickly."

"You like women who survive you," Hermes muttered.

Ares ignored him.

"I say she's testing something," Zeus said flatly. "The yokai have been too quiet for too long. The Shinto haven't lifted a hand in a century, and now their vassals are radiating enough pressure to stagger the Underworld's mirror surface?"

Apollo, polishing a lyre in the corner, didn't even look up. "Maybe she finally got bored and threw a tantrum. We've all done it."

Zeus's knuckles tightened on his throne arm. "No tantrum moves leyline roots in a protected sector. No tantrum hums like war."

Dionysus raised a goblet lazily. "Kyoto's out of our jurisdiction, father. You wanna break the accords over a pulse? They'll come crying if something's wrong. Or they won't. Not our wine to pour."

Zeus didn't answer.

Hermes stepped forward. "If you suspect something, we could always ask."

The room went silent.

Zeus snorted. "Ask the Shinto? They'll give us an invitation to impale ourselves."

Ares was already moving. "Then we don't ask."

Hermes blinked. "What are you thinking?"

"I've got sons," Ares said. "Strong ones. Half-bloods with just enough charm to pass for yokai-savvy mystics. I'll send them in as 'pilgrims.' The kind that snoop."

"You're going to spy on the Shinto," Dionysus said, blinking slowly. "Over a weather hiccup."

Ares shrugged. "Over Yasaka."

Zeus waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Let them snoop. If the Shinto are building a weapon, I want to know. If they're harboring something powerful enough to be a threat… I need to know."

Across the court, Athena looked up from her scrolls and frowned, but said nothing.

Hermes's eyes narrowed faintly.

He'd already dispatched three mortal watchers into the Kyoto underground. Just in case.

And far below, in the world of men, three demigod siblings—two brothers and a sister—boarded a train headed toward Kyoto with false passports, real weapons, and an urgent whisper from Olympus lodged in the back of their minds:

Watch the shrine.

Find the disturbance .

Don't get caught.

⸻

Asgard – Hall of Prophecies – The Bifrost Whisper

The northern winds screamed across the upper branches of Yggdrasil. Snow clawed through starlit skies as if trying to erase the shape of the world itself. But deep within the heart of Asgard, beneath golden spires and rune-braided halls, the gods of the Norse pantheon stirred in uneasy accord.

Heimdall blinked.

Once.

Then again—slowly.

He stood alone at the tip of the Bifrost, his eyes glowing faintly with the thousand visions of time. The Guardian of Realms narrowed his gaze toward the East.

"…A ripple," he murmured.

The sentient blade at his side shivered slightly in response.

The ripple had passed between worlds—not through the branches of Yggdrasil, not along the veins of seidr or divine blood—but through something stranger. Purified earth. Harmonic resonance. A pressure spike that had struck the fabric of Midgard like a perfectly thrown axe—then vanished before the echo could finish forming.

Heimdall didn't blink again.

Instead, he tilted his head back and whispered, "Father will want to know."

⸻

In the vaulted Hall of Prophecies, the All-Father sat beneath a sky of chiseled constellations, one eye fixed on the Runestone of Fates. Odin did not move—not at first. He had been consulting the stone for signs of Ragnarok, for shifts in the Draugr's slumber, for Loki's inevitable idiocy.

He had not expected this.

"Unknown pressure," he murmured, voice rasping like old leather. "No divine echo. No seidr signature. No willed mythos. Just… force."

Thor snorted beside him, one foot propped on a fallen wyrm skull from some past conquest. "You're being dramatic. Mortals set off fireworks all the time."

"This was not fireworks," Odin said. "This was intention. Brief. Focused. Contained."

Frigg entered quietly, her gaze thoughtful. "Not one of ours."

"She's right," Heimdall said, appearing behind the throne with no sound. "The pulse didn't stretch across the world—it tunneled. Controlled."

That silenced them.

Thor crossed his arms, brow furrowed as he stared at the vaulted ceiling. "So… what, then? A godling testing their limits? Some mortal mage with delusions of grandeur?"

Loki rolled lazily onto one elbow atop a divan of carved ice. "You always hope for dramatics, brother. It came from the eastern side of midgard didnt it ?Most likely, Another shinto love-spasm gone sideways."

Odin didn't answer.

His gaze was still locked on the runestone.

But the stone offered no prophecy. No vision. Just silence.

"It was too brief to study," he said at last. "The seidr didn't react. The branches of Yggdrasil did not shift. Even the Jotunn realm remained still. That's unusual."

Frigg folded her arms. "So, It's beneath our concern."

Loki smirked. "Since when have we let that stop us?"

Heimdall's eyes narrowed faintly. "I only caught a whisper. It might've been nothing. Or it might've been… something slipping."

"From where?" Thor challenged.

Heimdall didn't answer. He didn't need to.

There were other worlds. Other layers. Realms even Odin hadn't named aloud in centuries.

"…Mark the moment," Odin said finally. "Log the coordinates in the sky-map archives. But take no further action."

Loki raised a brow. "Not even a raven?"

"No," Odin replied.

"Because you think it's harmless?"

"Because I think it's already gone."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Thor huffed, turning to leave. "Call me if it grows fangs and a name."

Loki followed with a lazy wave. "Or if it turns out to be a lost daughter of Freya. That always makes things interesting."

Odin didn't laugh.

He just watched the fading ripples of a disturbance that had left no trace—yet stirred the air like a warning.

Frigg placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Let it pass," she said softly.

And for now… he did.

But even in the stillness of prophecy, the All-Father's single eye never closed.

⸻

Heaven – The Seventh Archive – Chamber of Celestial Metrics

A choir hummed in the background—soft, endless, toneless. A pulse of worship. A constant hymn that echoed through the crystalline towers of Heaven's high sanctum like sunlight refracting through stained glass.

And within it, deep in the data-vaulted core of the Seventh Archive, angels moved like living equations—flawless, tireless, absolute.

At the center of it all stood Archangel Sandalphon, guardian of divine information, overseer of Heaven's calibration systems.

She paused mid-scroll.

Her wings—pristine, silver-gilded—shivered once, faintly.

"Anomaly," she murmured.

Immediately, six lower-ranked seraphs turned their gazes toward her, glowing eyes pulsing faintly with coded reverence.

"Location?" asked one.

"Unclear," Sandalphon answered, voice like ringing crystal. "Somewhere within the Eastern Quarter of Earth's leyline net. Japan. Possibly further south."

The seraphs tensed.

"Cause?"

"Unknown," she said again. "Not divine. Not demonic. Not angelic. It wasn't us. It wasn't them. It wasn't even—" She stopped.

"…Even what?" one seraph dared to ask.

She didn't answer right away. Her fingers hovered above the divine map, replaying the waveform.

"…It was like a pulse," she said finally. "Chakra-based. But deeper. Not Shinto. Not fallen. Not mortal. Something… off-grid."

"Was it malevolent?"

"No. But that's what concerns me. It didn't spike. It… resonated."

The room dimmed for a moment as a new analysis rune flared open.

"Should we notify the Seraphim Council?" a younger scribe asked.

Sandalphon hesitated.

"No," she said. "Michael is preoccupied with dimensional reformatting for the Sixth Heaven. And Gabriel… would feel it, if it were divine."

"Then?"

"We do nothing," she said. "For now."

There was a long pause.

And then she added:

"…But we pray it does not happen again."

The hymn continued.

But somewhere, in a hidden sublayer of Heaven's archive system, Sandalphon quietly flagged the waveform anomaly with a single notation:

Unclassified pulse signature. Priority: Watchdog Level 4. Codename: FOXTREE.

⸻

Grigori Headquarters – Fallen Angel Intelligence Hub – The Womb

The underground vault beneath Tokyo looked nothing like a holy sanctuary. Instead, it resembled a tech lab crossed with a nightclub—dim lighting, humming monitors, runic servers wired into the bones of the city.

Azazel stood at the central projection table, coffee mug in hand, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose.

He was smiling.

"…Well now," he drawled, watching the waveform flicker on screen. "That's not normal."

Behind him, a team of mixed-blood tech-adepts typed furiously, their wings flicking in various shades of black, violet, and steel. Half-human, half-fallen. Smart. Reckless.

Just the way he liked them.

"What do we have?" he asked.

One of the analysts—a crow-winged woman named Ruvia—spoke without looking up.

"Localized spatial distortion detected eight minutes ago. Centered in Japan, southern quadrant. Our guess is somewhere near the ancient leyline rings in the Kansai region."

"So, Kyoto."

"Most likely. We triangulated resonance echoes using urban surveillance, demonic pollutant filters, and the old Gremory satellite relay. None of the supernatural energy signatures match known entities. Not yokai, not divine, not demonic."

Azazel raised a brow behind his sunglasses, but the grin never left his face.

"No match, huh?" He took another sip of his coffee. "So either someone's found a new toy…"

Ruvia finished the thought dryly. "Or something old decided to say hello."

The room chuckled half-heartedly.

But no one looked too concerned.

The spike hadn't broken any dimensional barriers that they know of. There were no casualties, no mass vanishings, no apocalyptic flare signs. Just a… blip. A momentary pressure echo strong enough to register on their outermost sensors, then gone like it had never been there.

Still.

Azazel zoomed in on the screen. The data trail was faint. Heat signature cold. The waveform had already begun decaying into background noise.

"Duration?" he asked.

"Four-point-eight seconds," Ruvia replied. "Just long enough to ping every leyline array across southern Japan."

"Any confirmation from our on-ground scouts?"

"They didn't feel a thing."

Azazel exhaled through his nose.

"Well, that's just rude," he muttered.

He tapped his fingers on the console, then brought up a 3D display of the leyline grid across Japan's midsection. Kyoto pulsed once—faint, erratic, like a skipped heartbeat—then went still again.

One of the junior analysts piped up from the side.

"Might be residual from a failed summoning. Or a yokai ritual misfire."

"Maybe," Azazel said. "Except yokai don't usually leave behind signatures like this."

He expanded the waveform—what little was left of it—and ran a basic chakra comparison.

Nothing.

No divine metadata. No devil wavelength. No celestial stamping. No fallen markers. Not even standard human leyline drift.

Just pure harmonic pressure.

Faint. Controlled. Alien.

And already gone.

Azazel smiled again, this time with genuine amusement.

"Well," he said, setting down his mug, "whoever you are… I hope you stick around a little longer next time. I hate one-night mysteries."

He turned from the console with a shrug.

"Log it. Flag it as a low-priority anomaly. No alerts. No angelic pingbacks. We'll keep an ear out. Maybe it's nothing."

"Copy that," Ruvia replied.

But even as she began encrypting the record under low-level black-tag status, Azazel paused at the edge of the room and looked back one more time.

"…Still," he murmured, half to himself, "that pressure felt… familiar."

No one heard him.

And he didn't press.

Because if it was what he thought it might be…

Well.

It wouldn't stay quiet for long.

And Azazel, Prince of the Fallen, was very good at waiting.

⸻

Underworld – Devil Faction – House of Sitri, Strategic Command Hall

The chamber beneath the Sitri estate was buried in volcanic stone and cooled magma, layered with millennia-old sigils. Normally, it pulsed with the low, deliberate thrum of tactical calculations—territory disputes, noble affairs, inter-faction diplomacy.

But tonight?

It was silent.

Serafall Leviathan—one of the Four Maou—stood with her arms crossed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed at the flickering data crystal hovering in the center of the room. Gone was the bubbly, ice-cream wielding, magical-girl-loving persona. What remained was something older. Sharper.

"Play it again," she ordered.

Her chief tactician—a thin devil with teal skin and a nervous tick in his left eye—swallowed hard and tapped the console.

The pulse echoed once more across the crystal's display. A sharp, perfect spike of harmonic pressure—foreign to the Underworld's archives. It lasted less than five seconds. Originated somewhere in Japan.

Serafall didn't blink.

"Location?" she asked.

"We've narrowed it to Honshu," the tactician replied. "Somewhere along the Kyoto–Nara leyline basin. We're still triangulating, but the Shinto barriers distorted half our probes."

"Is it divine?"

"No. That's what's strange, Lady Leviathan. It wasn't divine. Wasn't demonic either. No classification. No mythos alignment. Just… pressure."

"From what?"

"…We don't know."

Serafall stepped closer, staring at the frozen moment on the display. Her expression didn't change—but her aura spiked faintly, enough to make the temperature drop two degrees.

She turned.

"Send word to Sirzechs. Quietly. Tell him we may have had an uninvited guest in Japan."

The tactician hesitated. "Do you want us to engage any tracking protocols?"

"Not yet," she said. "Too much noise, and the Shinto might think we're invading."

She paused.

"But increase surveillance around Kyoto. Discreetly. Use the old peerage networks. I want eyes in every shadow."

The tactician bowed. "Yes, Ma'am."

"And if you find anything—anything at all—I want to know first. Not Ajuka. Not the Council. Me."

"Understood."

As the room returned to motion, Serafall turned back to the display and whispered, almost to herself:

"…You better not be another Ophis. Or worse—something new."

She didn't smile.

Not this time.

⸻

The Hindu Pantheon, ever insular, noticed the pulse—catalogued it under "incidental anomalies" and returned to debating whether Indra had overstepped his jurisdiction in last week's storm allocations.

⸻

The Chaos Brigade registered the spike with interest, but lacked the means to trace it. Vali raised an eyebrow. Rizevim giggled. Ophis said nothing.

⸻

Great Red, swirling through the Dimensional Gap, paused for a fraction of a second. The Gap pulsed. Then continued on.

⸻

And in one pocket dimension, far beyond the borders of Earth, a dying Ōtsutsuki larva twitched.

Faintly.

As if sensing… kin.

⸻

Kyoto – Crater Garden, Beneath the Foxtree

The rainbow blossoms shimmered in the air like drifting stars. Beneath their iridescent light, Kunou spun barefoot across the grass, her energy still untamed but no longer chaotic. She gripped the glowing color shifting rose Naruto had given her as if it were a badge of honor, her excitement radiating like a beacon.

And then—

A ripple of yokai energy brushed the edge of the clearing. Graceful. Quiet. Measured.

Naruto didn't need to turn. He felt her before he saw her.

Yasaka stepped into the garden like the embodiment of moonlight and judgment.

Her golden eyes locked onto him.

She took in the scene—the scorched crater now filled with blooming vines, the impossible tree pulsing with chakra that didn't belong in her world, and Kunou dancing around with enough noise to wake the mountain.

The tension was immediate. Thick. Barely leashed.

Naruto gave her a sheepish smile. "Uh. Hi."

He scratched the back of his neck. A single bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

Yasaka didn't blink.

Didn't speak.

Didn't even sigh.

She just… stared.

"geeeeeeeeeeee"

making naruto more nervous eyes shofting to look anywhere but her dead pan stare that was practically lasering into his skull, his sweatdrop comically increased

Kunou noticed her a heartbeat later.

"MAMA!" she squealed, bolting straight toward her. "You're not gonna believe what happened!"

Yasaka caught her daughter mid-sprint, lifting her into her arms automatically.

"Oh? Do tell," she murmured coolly—eyes still never leaving Naruto.

Kunou took a deep breath. Then unleashed the flood.

"Mama—it was amazing! There was this big seal—boom—and the sky split—shooom!—and then Papa hugged me and all the fire stopped, and then he made the sky twist, and then he made a tree! A giant glowing chakra tree with rainbow leaves, and then he gave me a rose that changes colors!, and I'm actually a space-princess, and—!"

Yasaka's expression did not change.

Naruto shrank under the weight of her stare, that same awkward sweatdrop still glued to his temple.

He chuckled weakly. "I, uh… maybe got a little carried away. It was a lot. First day and all…"

Kunou, oblivious to the adult tension radiating like a volcano under silk, continued at full speed.

"—and I'm gonna teach Boruto how to prank people and how to make bite traps and you'll love him, Mama, he's got chubby cheeks like a dumpling and Papa says he eats everything and I'm gonna be the best big sister ever and—"

Yasaka blinked.

"Boruto?" she repeated, softly. Too softly.

Kunou nodded fiercely. "Yup! He's Papa's other baby! From his other family! Then she paused and gasped in realisation "oh right, papa hasn't told tou yet, hehe" she was laughing nervously while scraching the back of her head and looking at her papa in guilt.

Yasaka's smile tightened.

Just slightly.

Like silk stretched over steel.

"No, sweetheart," she said sweetly. "I did not."

Naruto froze.

Kunou blinked, and looked at Naruto

"Ehhm…Oops?"

naruto just sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes but also smiled at her to tell her everything is fine he isn't angery at her.

Yasaka set Kunou down gently. Brushed her hair back with tender hands.

"I think someone's had a very long day," she murmured, voice velvety calm.

Kunou yawned at that exact moment, tail flicking.

Naruto reached over with practiced ease and scooped his daughter into his arms. She slumped instantly against his shoulder, the adrenaline finally crashing.

"I'll carry her in," he offered. "Let her sleep somewhere quiet."

Yasaka nodded—graceful, poised, unreadable. "That would be best."

But when their eyes met again—

Naruto knew.

The storm hadn't passed.

It had just begun.

⸻

Yasaka's Private Quarters – 20 Minutes Later

The silence in the room was soft at first. Not tense. Not cold. Just… too quiet.

A small futon in the corner glowed faintly with chakra-silk wards, carefully layered for peace and protection. Kunou lay curled at the center, one cheek smushed into her pillow, her golden foxfire flickering faintly around her with each breath.

She'd crashed hard. The garden chaos. The adrenaline. The stories.

Now she slept like the world hadn't just changed around her.

Naruto adjusted the edge of her blanket one more time, smoothing the curve of her hair back with gentle fingers. His expression was unreadable. Tender. Proud. A little haunted.

"…I wasn't sure I'd ever get to do this," he whispered.

Behind him, the door slid shut.

Softly. Purposefully.

He didn't need to turn.

He could feel the storm behind him. The same way a soldier feels the stillness before the ambush. The sharp, golden eyes boring into his back like twin suns behind glass.

"…Hinata," Yasaka said quietly.

Naruto closed his eyes. "Yeah."

He straightened slowly, then turned.

Yasaka stood in the center of the room, framed by moonlight streaming through the paper windows. Her robe hung perfectly in place. Her hair was immaculate. Her aura was still. But her tail tips twitched.

Not a good sign.

"You were going to tell me when?" she asked.

He didn't try to dodge it. "Tonight. After Kunou fell asleep."

"How convenient," she murmured.

He winced. "Yasaka—"

"Five years," she said, voice still soft, but steely beneath. "I waited five years without answers. Without closure. I cried in places no one could see. I raised our daughter in secret. I fought off gods and devils who wanted to make her a pawn. And not once did I let them see me break."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"But you—you went home. You built a life. Got married. Had another child."

Naruto opened his mouth—

She stepped forward. "You chose to marry her."

"I told her before we even started," he said quickly. "Before anything happened. I told her I had someone else. That I loved someone else, too."

Yasaka froze.

"…And she still said yes?"

"She said yes because I was honest," Naruto said, voice tight now. "Because I promised I'd never abandon either of you. Because she knew—even then—that my heart wasn't whole."

Yasaka looked away for the first time. Her voice dropped. "You could've waited."

"I did," he said quietly. "Until I couldn't anymore."

Silence.

Yasaka's expression didn't change—but her energy did. It folded inward. Guarded. Wounded. She moved toward the window slowly, fingers brushing the frame like she needed something to anchor her.

"You found love again," she said.

"I never lost it," Naruto replied. "Not with you."

Her breath hitched.

He took a slow step forward.

"You think it didn't kill me?" he said, voice lower now. "Leaving you? Not knowing if you were safe? Not knowing about her—our daughter—until I found a way back and felt that chakra echo?"

He swallowed hard.

"I married Hinata, yeah. And I love her. But there wasn't a single day I didn't think of you."

Yasaka closed her eyes.

The silence stretched.

Then—

"You haven't married me," she said. Calm. Icy.

Naruto flinched.

"I wanted to," he said. "Gods, Yasaka, I planned it. The ring was in my pocket the day I disappeared."

"And yet—now—here we are."

She turned to face him again.

Golden eyes—piercing. Wet with unshed fury.

"Married to her. Not to me. With a son. A family. While I—while we—were left to grieve you."

Naruto stepped forward again, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

"Yasaka… you think this is easy for me? I've got one world that needs me, and another that I broke to reach. I've got two women I love and two children I'd die for."

Her lip curled faintly. "You should've told me before you came back."

He shook his head. "No. I had to see Kunou first. Had to hold her. Then I could face this."

"Do you love her more than me?" Yasaka asked.

He didn't hesitate.

"No. I love you both."

She laughed once—dry, brittle. "That's a pretty answer."

"It's the truth," he said. "And I won't lie to you now. Not when we've finally found each other again."

Her shoulders sagged.

For a long time… she didn't speak.

Then—

"…She's going to want to meet me."

"Eventually."

"I'm not going to make this easy," she said flatly.

"I didn't think you would."

Her jaw clenched. "And I'm not agreeing to anything. Not sharing you. Not raising her beside another family."

Naruto nodded. "I'll earn it. Whatever it takes."

That caught her off guard.

He stepped forward once more—until he was close enough to touch her. But didn't.

He waited.

She looked at him—this man who had shattered her world, who had stitched it back together, who now stood offering something so complicated it couldn't even be called love without qualifiers.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"I know."

"I missed you."

"I know that too."

"…I still love you."

"I never stopped."

She exhaled. Sharp. Shaky.

Then stepped forward—and pressed her forehead against his.

Just a moment.

A breath.

Then she whispered:

"I'm not saying yes to anything."

He smiled.

"I'll take that over goodbye."

And together, beneath the weight of too many unspoken words, they stood quietly beside their sleeping daughter.

Not whole.

Not yet.

But no longer broken.

⸻

Author Note:

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