Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another Peaceful Day in Konohagakure.

The golden sun filtered through the leaves of the towering trees surrounding the village, dancing softly with the morning breeze. The scent of the marketplace filled the streets — fresh fruit, wildflowers, and the familiar spices of Ichiraku Ramen blending together.  

Children laughed as they darted through the alleys, pretending to be legendary ninjas with makeshift wooden swords. Civilians carried out their daily routines — blacksmiths hammering, vendors calling out their wares, young genin completing simple missions with pride in their chests. Everything was at peace.  

The village’s security wasn’t just evident in its high walls but in the confident expressions of the shinobi patrolling the area. It was the reflection of an era of calm, hard-won through blood and pain… And at the heart of this transformation was her.  

Away from the bustling center, near the forest that wrapped around the village like a natural shield, stood a modest house. Built of wood and pale stone, it had a simple, well-kept garden surrounded by protective talismans, colorful flowers, and sealing scrolls. This was where Uzumaki Naruto lived — though calling her just by her name almost felt like an injustice.  

The Unpredictable Kunoichi No. 1, Heroine of the Fourth Great Ninja War, Guardian of the Bijuu, Disciple of the Rokudaime Hokage, Daughter of the Yondaime Hokage, Bearer of the Rikudou Sennin’s chakra… And now, on the verge of becoming the Nanadaime Hokage.  

Yet at that very moment, she was sprawled on her living room floor — blonde hair disheveled, a poorly drawn kanji stuck to her forehead, and her bright blue eyes fixed on the ceiling in pure frustration.  

"Ugh… I don’t get why this just won’t work."

Around her lay a scene the Hyuuga clan elders would likely deem chaotic: unfurled scrolls, ink splattered on sheets and furniture, and massive creatures — or at least their shrunken versions — pacing around with boredom and curiosity.  

Kurama, now the size of a medium dog, lounged on the back of the couch, tails flicking in amusement.  

"Heh. Never thought I’d see you giving up so easily, brat."

Naruto rolled her eyes at the fox, flashing a tired half-smile.  

"Who said I’m giving up? I’ll master this seal or my name isn’t Uzumaki Naruto, 'ttebayo!"

The energy in her voice made the other Bijuu chuckle and perk up. Having all of them here was rare, and though they were used to the blonde’s antics, this afternoon felt particularly promising.  

Against her will, Naruto had been forced by Kakashi to take a vacation. After years of nonstop work — from the war to diplomatic missions, village reconstruction, and training future leaders — she’d forgotten how to rest. What she saw as silent torture, Kakashi called a necessity: "You’re not a weapon, Naruto-chan. You’re human. And even humans with godlike chakra need to breathe."

With no one to spar with and no official duties, she’d buried herself in her father’s journals. The yellowed pages held complex calculations, intricate seal designs, and the intimate thoughts of Namikaze Minato — including his hope of one day passing his knowledge to his child. Though he never got the chance in life, his words now guided her.  

She wanted to recreate the Hiraishin, the famed Flying Thunder God Technique. But no matter how much she studied, there was always a tiny flaw — a crooked line, a misaligned sequence — and even the slightest error in a space-time jutsu could be disastrous.  

As Naruto tried once more to align the primary seal with its secondary markers, a familiar argument brewed in the background.  

"You should stop teasing Mother, Kurama. She’s totally gonna get this."

"And you should stop calling her that ridiculous name, you overgrown tanuki."

Shukaku, as always, was butting heads with Kurama. The bickering quickly escalated, and Naruto — like a weary mother dealing with rowdy kids — just sighed deeply.  

"Just… don’t knock me over this time, okay?"

But of course, that’s exactly what happened.  

Kurama and Shukaku shoved each other, their clumsy collision sending them crashing into Naruto — who was still holding an ink-laden brush. The seal smeared. Their chakra flared into hers.  

The newly drawn markings on her hand trembled… and glowed.  

A blinding flash erupted through the house. The ground shook, and a shockwave of chakra exploded outward, silencing even the forest birds.  

In an instant, Naruto and the nine Bijuu vanished — leaving only a smoldering crater behind.  

---  

Naruto Was Pissed.

Really pissed. And confused. One moment, she was in her house trying to corral nine loud, impatient Bijuu—the next, she was standing in an unfamiliar forest surrounded by towering trees with dark trunks and a damp, heavy air that felt nothing like Hi no Kuni.  

"You’ve really outdone yourselves this time…" She muttered through narrowed eyes, scanning the area. "Where are we? This doesn’t look like Konoha—or any forest in the Land of Fire." She pressed her fingers to her temple, forcing calm. "Gyuuki, can you sense which direction Octopops is in? Maybe that’ll tell us where we landed."

The Eight-Tails’ reply was grim and hesitant.  

"Sorry, Naruto… I can’t feel my connection to Bee. It’s like… we’re not even in the same dimension anymore."

"Yeah, same here, Mother," added Shukaku, uncharacterively subdued. "I can’t feel Gaara either."

Their words hit Naruto like a bucket of ice water. That shouldn’t be possible. The bond between Bijuu and their Jinchūriki was profound, transcendent. If it was severed, it meant one of two things: either something terrible had happened to Bee and Gaara… or they’d landed in another dimension. And honestly, the latter seemed more likely — no matter how absurd.  

I need to be sure.

Closing her eyes, Naruto activated Sage Mode, feeling natural chakra merge with her own. The forest’s energy flowed through her — alive and vibrant, but foreign. Familiar in essence, yet different. She searched for known chakra signatures — Kakashi, Sakura, Ino, Hinata, even Sasuke. Nothing.

The only chakra nearby was hers, the Bijuu’s, and hundreds of people in the distance. But none were shinobi. No buzzing energy of ninjutsu, no seals, no anomalies. Nothing.

"Shit…" Her throat tightened. "This isn’t our world."

She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath. She needed to stay sharp.  

"I don’t think we’re in the Elemental Nations anymore," she said, turning to the Bijuu. "At least not the ones we know. I need intel before we act. We can’t afford unnecessary risks, so — guys, I need you to return to the seal for now. Until I figure this out, we can’t draw attention."

Chaos erupted immediately.  

"WHAT?!" Kurama snarled. "No way in hell I’m sharing space with that stupid tanuki!"

"Like I’d wanna share Mother with you, you arrogant fox!" Shukaku shot back, gravelly voice cracking.  

"Guys!" Isobu interjected, patience fraying. "Now’s not the time! If we keep making a scene, someone’s gonna find us — and we’ve got no clue if they’ll be friendly!"

"Isobu’s right," Kokuō said calmly. "This fight is what got us here. We need to trust Naruto now."

A tense silence fell. One by one, the Bijuu reluctantly nodded, retreating into Naruto’s seal until only their chakra remained. She exhaled, weariness dragging at her bones.  

"Thanks, guys."

Adjusting her cloak, she steadied her breathing and sprinted toward the concentration of people.  

But when she broke through the tree line, her steps froze.  

What the hell is this?

Before her stretched a city straight out of a fever dream: skyscrapers of glass and steel gleamed under the sun, towering higher than any building in Konoha. Strange, roaring machines zipped down paved streets at impossible speeds, and crowds dressed in bizarre, colorful fabrics bustled past. The air reeked of metal, smoke, perfume, and food — a nauseating whirlwind that made her head spin.  

"Guys… you seeing all this?"

"Yes, Naruto," Matatabi murmured. "And I don’t like it."

Naruto nodded slowly, mind racing.  

"I think… we somehow ended up in another dimension. I was finishing my otou-san’s seal when Kurama and Shukaku knocked into me. Must’ve messed up a stroke, and their chakra surge activated it. This… this must’ve pulled us here."

Silence.  

Finally, Kurama voiced the question they all wanted answered:  

"So what’s the plan now, brat?"

Naruto clenched her fists.  

"Find a way back. But first, I need to learn where we are, who these people are, and if we can trust anyone here. Shelter. Intel. Allies — in that order."

With a quick hand seal, she disguised herself using a basic henge — plain clothes, shorter hair, no whisker marks. Just another face in the crowd.  

Then, heart pounding but resolve steeled, she took her first step into the unknown.  

---  

Meanwhile, in Konoha…

Chaos had seized the village. Shinobi darted through the streets, their faces etched with confusion and urgency. The woman who’d brokered peace among nations, Konoha’s golden heroine, had vanished without a trace — along with all nine Bijuu.  

In the Hokage’s office, Kakashi pored over fresh reports, his visible eye sharp with silent concern.  

"Naruto-chan wouldn’t just disappear…" he muttered, more to himself than to the advisor beside him. "The explosion at her house was massive, but there’s no evidence of a fight. For now, we can rule out an attack. What do we know?"

Shikamaru dragged a hand down his face with a weary sigh.  

"What a drag. Almost nothing, unfortunately. A few shinobi near the area reported sensing a huge chakra pulse right before the blast. When they arrived, the house was in ruins — but no Naruto-chan, no Bijuu. No bodies. No battle residue. Just… silence."

Before they could continue, the office door slammed open. Konohamaru burst in, sweat-drenched and panting, but with a spark of hope in his eyes.  

"Rokudaime-sama! I reached the toads of Mount Myōboku! They confirmed Naruto-nee-chan’s name is still active on the summoning contract. That means she’s alive. They’re certain. But for some reason they can’t fathom, they can’t reverse-summon to locate her."

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, relief flickering briefly beneath his mask.  

"Maa… That’s one small comfort. If the contract’s still active, she’s unharmed. But where is another story." His expression hardened again. "Organize search teams immediately. Comb through the house, the surrounding area — any trace of residual chakra that might explain this. Shikamaru, contact the other villages. Check for anomalies, anything suspicious. And above all, contain leaks. We don’t know if this was an accident or an attack, so we can’t risk drawing unwanted attention."

"Understood." Shikamaru turned to leave, grumbling under his breath. "What a drag. Only that troublesome blonde could make me work overtime like this…"

Konohamaru followed the Hokage’s advisor out, their hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. The room emptied, leaving Kakashi alone, his gaze fixed on the sky through the window.  

For a long moment, he didn’t move. The weight of the hat had never felt heavier.  

"Naruto-chan… where are you?" he murmured, voice muffled and uncharacteristically raw. "Stay safe out there."

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since Naruto landed in this bizarre dimension, and piece by piece, she’d started assembling the chaotic puzzle she’d been thrown into.  

She’d learned this world was vast and fragmented — far more countries than the Five Great Shinobi Nations, each with its own culture, history, and (as Shikamaru would groan) the most troublesome part: different languages.  

Luckily, her native tongue resembled one from a place called Japan. Combined with her shinobi adaptability and the Bijuu’s help memorizing phrases, she’d managed to pass as a disoriented civilian.  

"Are you okay, miss?"

"I… don’t really remember where I’m from."

That line, a few strategically henge-d scratches, and a dazed look were all it took to land her at a "diplomatic embassy." The people there seemed genuinely concerned, promising to help her "find her way home."  

If only it were that easy.

The forest she’d woken in belonged to Brazil, where they spoke Portuguese. At first, it felt more convoluted than one of Shikamaru’s strategies, but within days, she was piecing together simple sentences. She was a ninja, after all.  

Yet even with language and disguise mastered, one failure gnawed at her: the reverse summoning to Mount Myōboku wouldn’t work. Something was blocking her chakra’s connection to her world.  

"We’re stuck here, brat," Kurama grumbled.  

Now, perched on the balcony of a tiny apartment (rented thanks to a kind old man), Naruto swung her legs over the ledge, staring at the sky. The city below roared with lights and noise she was still learning to parse.  

"I don’t get it, Kurama. There’s nothing like shinobi missions here. Too many rules — CPF, IDs, paperwork… It’s too much!" She bit into a pão de queijo (which Matatabi had deemed "acceptable").  

Kurama scoffed.  

"You’ve fought wars, gaki. Defeated gods. And now you’re cowed by bureaucracy?"

Saiken chimed in.  

"Kurama’s right. You found mercenaries here, didn’t you? People trade danger for money and intel. Sound familiar?"

Naruto sighed. She knew they were right. And she hated sitting still. If she wanted a way home, she needed to move — access information networks, scout this world’s powers (or lack thereof), and yes, earn cash.  

"Fine, fine! But we do it right. No killing innocents. No shady jobs. And most importantly — we need a name."

Shukaku didn’t hesitate.  

"Killer Tanuki! Hah! Imagine their faces—"

"Absolutely not," Matatabi deadpanned, feline eyes oozing judgment.  

Kurama puffed his chest.  

"She should use my name. ‘Kurama’ commands respect."

"Or terrifies every human in a mile radius," Isobu muttered.  

The debate raged until Kokuō, ever serene, offered:  

"Kitsune. They call fox spirits that here. Clever, swift, powerful… and charismatic. It fits."

Silence. Naruto traced her whisker marks and grinned.  

"Kitsune, huh? Yeah… I like it."

With the name decided, the Bijuu settled (though not without grumbling). Naruto spent the night sewing a black cloak with subtle red accents, crafting a simple Anbu-style mask, and plotting her first move.  

By dawn, Kitsune was born.  

---

During one of her training trips to the forest, Naruto stumbled upon something she hadn’t expected. Amid the tranquil sounds of nature and the steady flow of energy around her, she sensed it — a presence that felt wrong. Distorted. Like it carried a storm inside.  

That’s how she met a man unlike anyone she’d seen in this dimension. Dark, messy hair. Worn, simple clothes. But what caught her attention was the energy radiating from him. Not chakra, but something close — wild, unstable, suffocating. Rage. Fear. Anguish. It rolled off him in waves, palpable even without Sage Mode.  

Ever curious, she tried to talk to him. Learned his name was Bruce Banner. But when she pressed for details, he grew visibly agitated — eyes darting, sweat beading, body coiled like a spring about to snap.  

He bolted before she could say another word.  

Naruto Uzumaki wasn’t one to let things go.  

"There’s something about him, Kurama… Don’t know what, but it’s important."

"Or trouble, brat."

"I can handle it, ’ttebayo!" She flashed a stubborn half-smile.  

---  

Days later, she returned to the same stretch of forest. Instead of serenity, a roar split the air like thunder. Trees uprooted. The ground quaked. Chaos unfolded before her.  

And there it was.  

A hulking monster — green skin, muscles like boulders — pummeling the earth, hurling rocks like toys. Naruto froze. Not from fear, but sheer disbelief.  

What the hell is that?!

She considered walking away. Drawing attention was the last thing she needed. But then—  

"It’s heading for the city," Gyūki warned.  

"Innocent people will get hurt," Chōmei added.  

Naruto sighed, her gaze hardening. "Yeah… knew I couldn’t ignore this."

With a nimble leap, she joined the fray.  

The fight was brutal but straightforward. The beast was raw strength without finesse; Naruto was speed, Sage-enhanced reflexes, and Isobu’s sensory illusions. She dodged, struck pressure points, used the terrain — until a precise natural chakra strike finally sent the giant crashing down like a felled mountain.  

Then came the real surprise.  

Before her eyes, the monster shrank. Green faded to flesh, muscles slackened — and seconds later, Bruce Banner lay unconscious on the ground.  

Naruto stared, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.  

So it was you…

The energy, the pain — it made sense now. But he wasn’t a Jinchūriki. No Bijuu lived inside him. This was something else. Something strange. And yet… she recognized that pain.  

Kneeling beside him, she hesitated only a moment.  

You’ve got your own demon… Just not like mine.

The Bijuu stayed silent. Even Kurama, who had little patience for fragile humans, seemed unusually subdued.  

"We’re not leaving him here, right?" Matatabi murmured.  

"’Course not," Naruto said, hoisting Bruce carefully into her arms. "He’ll wake up clueless, and who knows what they’d do to him. He needs help."

---  

Now, with Bruce sprawled on her battered couch, Naruto studied his face intently.  

Hope you don’t remember me as the girl who kicked your ass.

Leaning against the wall, she exhaled.  

And I’m gonna need one hell of a cover story…

---

Waking in unfamiliar places wasn’t new to Bruce Banner. He’d come to in alleyways, abandoned warehouses, even deserted beaches after the chaos his other half left behind. But realizing he wasn’t alone? That was concerning.  

Almost reflexively, he jerked upright on the worn couch, eyes scanning the room with clinical precision. The apartment was small, modest, barely furnished. Few clues about its occupant — no photos, art, or personal items in sight.  

The only sound was the soft static of an old TV playing a brightly colored children’s show. Bruce recognized the format—one of those language-learning cartoons. He’d used similar ones to brush up on Portuguese or Arabic.  

Then, another noise: the faint clatter of kitchenware. Pots, maybe, or utensils being arranged. A pause, as if sensing he was awake. Then light, deliberate footsteps.  

She emerged seconds later, and Bruce recognized her instantly. The blonde woman from the forest.  

But she looked different now. No training gear. Just gray sweatpants and a white tank top that hugged her curves and revealed toned arms — lean muscle built from a lifetime of discipline. Yet she seemed at ease.  

Bruce studied her. She was smaller than he remembered, but something in her posture — the way she moved, breathed — screamed trained. Soldier? Government operative? Either was possible. And for someone like him, both were dangerous.  

That’s why he hadn’t trusted her before.  

She could easily be one of Ross’s agents, coached to earn his trust and drag him back. The amnesia story? Convenient. Showing up when he was vulnerable? Too suspicious.  

Lost in thought, he barely noticed her crossing the room until she stood just steps away.  

"Glad you’re awake," she said, voice light, almost playful, but firm. "Remember anything about what happened?"

Bruce glanced away, calculating. "No. Not much, really."

Her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. A quiet exhale before she resumed her casual tone.  

"Well, I was training in the woods again when I found you passed out and half-naked." She smiled, like she was trying to lighten the mood. "Didn’t know where you lived, so I brought you here. You weren’t mugged, were you?"

The mention of his state made him stiffen. His stomach churned at the obvious implication: he’d lost control. Again. It was always a risk, always a curse. But the fact she was alive… unharmed… suggested she hadn’t encountered him mid-transformation.  

"I really don’t remember," he repeated, heavier this time. "But I appreciate the help. I should go."

He needed distance. From her. This place. Everything.

But she crossed her arms, studying him with a gaze that wasn’t hostile — just practical. Almost kind.  

"No need to thank me. And you’re still shaky. Coffee’s almost ready — eat first, then leave." Her smile softened. "I’m Uzumaki Naruto, by the way. You ran off before I could introduce myself last time."

Uzumaki Naruto. The name was strange. Unusual. Asian, he’d guess. If she was an agent, she was very convincing.  

She turned back to the kitchen like trusting him not to attack her was the most natural thing in the world.  

Bruce stayed seated, silent, staring at the space she’d left. He didn’t trust her. Couldn’t. But something primal—that inner voice honed by years of running — whispered that walking away now would be a mistake.  

His eyes found a stack of clean clothes folded on the coffee table. Shirt, pants, even a towel.  

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed them, stood gingerly (muscles still aching), and headed for what he assumed was the bathroom.  

---  

The soft click of the bathroom door signaled Bruce hadn’t bolted. Naruto exhaled in relief.  

She knew he was wary — more than usual, even for someone living on high alert. But she understood. If she had a monster inside her, one capable of leveling cities in a fit of rage, she’d expect betrayal around every corner too. Kurama grumbled in her mind, but she ignored him with a faint smile.  

You’re a sweetheart, but you’ve caused enough disasters to prove him right.

As she set the small wooden kitchen table, Naruto mentally rehearsed ways to earn Bruce’s trust. There was something about him — an invisible pull stronger than mere curiosity. Like her chakra knew he’d be important. That Bruce might, somehow, help her find a way home.  

Or at least understand this strange world she’d landed in.  

Dragging footsteps made her glance up. Bruce had returned, now clad in clean clothes that fit him suspiciously well. She silently thanked her impulse to stock varied sizes when furnishing the apartment.  

"Sit. Help yourself," she said, serving rice, miso eggplant, and fried fish — a simple meal Kakashi had stubbornly drilled into her nutrition routine. It also staved off the homesickness that crept in when she thought too long.  

Across the table, Bruce frowned slightly at the chopsticks. Naruto moved to fetch Western utensils.  

"Don’t trouble yourself," he said, raising a hand. "Just point me to the silverware. I’ve inconvenienced you enough."

"No trouble at all." She smiled, retrieving a fork. "You’re a guest. And I can’t just ignore someone who needs help, ’ttebayo."

Bruce studied her with an unreadable look but accepted the fork. The silence that followed was comfortable.  

"You said your name’s Naruto?" he asked after a while. "Asian descent? Or an immigrant?"

She paused, fish halfway to her mouth. A careful question required a careful answer.  

"Hmm… honestly? I don’t know. I don’t remember how I got here. Didn’t even speak the language when I woke up." She kept her eyes on her plate a beat too long before meeting his gaze. "Some embassy folks helped me. Now I’m trying to get home."

A pause.  

"So you were taken?" Bruce arched a brow. "That’d explain some gaps. And your Portuguese — it’s near fluent. Barely an accent. Better than mine, and I’ve lived here years."

Naruto shrugged.  

"I learn fast." A mischievous grin. "It’s not so hard. Just weird at first. As for the rest…" She spread her hands. "I woke up in those woods where I found you. Been figuring things out since."

She watched as Bruce analyzed her in silence, eyes hunting for lies. Naruto held his gaze. She wanted him to believe her. And by the subtle shift in his posture — he did. Or at least, he wanted to.  

The conversation flowed easier after that.  

When she admitted uncertainty about her origins, he noted—with academic curiosity — that her features blended Eastern and Western traits. Naruto didn’t understand the labels but liked how he offered explanations without judgment.  

Then, naturally, he proposed a trade: he’d teach her English ("Essential anywhere," he said), and she’d help his Portuguese. Naruto agreed instantly. The idea of routine, of exchange, made her chest loosen.  

---  

Hours later, alone amidst Hiraishin scrolls and notes, Naruto stared at the wall, pensive.  

Kurama, curled in her mind like a lazy cat, cracked one eye open.  

"Overthinking again, brat."

Maybe. But deep down, she knew. The same instinct that guided her life’s pivotal moments screamed at her to stay close to Bruce Banner. And Naruto trusted that instinct more than any technique, seal, or Bijuu.  

It had led her to Shikamaru at six years old.  

And just like then, she felt it with bone-deep certainty:  

This meeting would change everything.  

Forever.

Chapter Text

Four months had passed since Naruto brought Bruce to her apartment that strange, silent morning. Slowly, their coexistence had settled into a quiet rhythm — almost comfortable, though neither spoke of it. In that time, Naruto learned more about Bruce, and by extension, the dimension she’d been thrown into.  

Bruce Banner was a quiet man. Methodical. Observant. She came to realize his reserve wasn’t just shyness or introspection — he moved like someone perpetually hunted, always teetering on a precipice. A creature intimately familiar with its cage, even if no one else could see the bars.  

He reminded her of Shino, a friend often overlooked until the exact moment he was needed. That same steady, silent presence. Yet when she learned he was a scientist, a flicker of alarm sparked in her — for one involuntary instant, she thought of Orochimaru. But the comparison dissolved like smoke. Bruce was different. It was in his eyes, his measured voice. He carried guilt, yes, but also limits — a moral compass Orochimaru had never possessed.  

So she stopped seeing the "green monster" as just a threat.  

Maybe it was the consequence of something Bruce had tried to do. Something that went wrong.  

She didn’t ask. Everyone had secrets — her more than most. And if he ever chose to trust her, she’d have to be honest too. Tell him where she came from. What she was.  

During those months, she also discovered that if her seals failed, finding a way home would require leaving Brazil. Countries like the U.S., Russia, or China had advanced technologies that might help. It was only a matter of time before she took mercenary work — not just for money, but for intel and connections.  

The real breakthrough, however, was finally completing her father’s Hiraishin seal. It wasn’t perfect — she could only use it with kunai for now — but it was more than she’d hoped for in so little time. Wielding this technique felt like Minato’s legacy resting on her shoulders.  

---  

That afternoon, she knelt in the forest beside a carefully drawn seal, an open scroll of scribbled hypotheses at her side. Kurama watched silently as the other Bijuu remained alert within her.  

"Brat, we don’t know if Isobu’s theory’s right. Be careful. We don’t need you exploding — or sending us to another dimension," Kurama warned, his tone gravely serious.  

"I know," she muttered, brow furrowed. "But I think he’s right. Summoning seals connect our dimension to the summoning realm. Since we’re here, that link’s broken. I had to redesign everything. Plus…" She sighed. "The chakra here’s weird. Denser. Nature reacts differently."

"We’re just worried, Naruto," Son Goku said gently. "We don’t want anything to happen to you."

"It’ll work. Promise. Now, suppress your chakra. Any interference could destabilize it."

Tension thickened as she gathered chakra. This wasn’t just a summoning — it was a lifeline. Proof her world still existed beyond memory.  

"Kuchiyose no Jutsu!" she shouted, hands slamming into the final seal.  

At first, nothing. The seal lay inert, and her heart plummeted — until, slowly, the markings began to glow. Faint at first, then blazing until the forest pulsed with light. White smoke billowed, and when it cleared, a familiar figure stood before her.  

"Finally, Naruto-san. Konoha’s been tearing itself apart searching for you," croaked Gamaden, his bulbous eyes brimming with relief.  

Naruto didn’t realize she was crying until tears hit the dirt.  

"Gamaden!" Her grin split her face. "So happy to see you, ’ttebayo! But how’d you know it was me?"

"I’d know your chakra anywhere. But where are we? This forest isn’t familiar."

She took a steadying breath. Time to explain.  

She told him everything — where she was, how she got here, why the summoning only worked now. The strange chakra. Almost everything.  

"They don’t call you the Unpredictable Kunoichi for nothing," Gamaden sighed. "How will you return?"

"Not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out. For now—" She thrust a scroll into his hands. "Give this to Kakashi-sensei. Tell him I’m safe, and I’ll come home when I can."

"Consider it done. Be careful. And keep in touch when possible."

Naruto nodded, hastily wiping her face. "You bet!"

As the summoning smoke faded, leaving her alone again, Naruto closed her eyes and let herself collapse backward into the leaf-strewn earth.  

---  

Finally sending word home felt like casting an anchor into the turbulent sea of her new reality. She still didn’t know how to return, but now, at least, Konoha would know she was alive — and that soothed her more than she cared to admit.  

It was time to move.  

Finding mercenary work wasn’t easy. This underworld had its own bizarre bureaucracy. Power alone wasn’t enough; she needed reputation. And as a stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere, Naruto had to build hers from scratch.  

Her first leads came from a shadowy, almost comical corner of the internet — forums with cryptic rules, odd avatars, and coded language. Under a fake name, she began asking questions. Wary at first, she quickly grasped the game: the more you seemed to know, the more respect you earned. And Naruto, even from another world, was a master of adaptation. Soon, she’d crafted a basic profile — fake ID, carefully understated skills, and sharp replies in the right threads.  

It was a start.  

High-profile jobs didn’t come immediately. She took small gigs first: escorts, package deliveries, "area cleanups" that felt more like gang brawls than real work. But Naruto was patient. She had time. And as her name grew in the darker corners of the web, her true mission continued in the shadows.  

She and the Bijuu had a plan.  

Inspired by the Shiki Fūjin and her deep knowledge of chakra structures, Naruto designed a new seal — one that let the Bijuu transfer fragments of their chakra into independent clones. With these clones disguised by henge and blending into civilian populations, gathering intel across borders became startlingly efficient.  

Eyes and ears scattered worldwide, linked through their shared mental space.  

Let no one say Naruto and the Bijuu couldn’t be discreet.

Of the nine, only two stayed behind: Shukaku and Kurama.  

Shukaku, by unanimous vote, was a walking liability. Even with a perfect henge, they all knew he’d blow his cover at the first excited outburst. Kurama, with trademark disdain, had flatly refused to "mingle with noisy, irritating meat sacks."

She’d rolled her eyes but secretly felt relieved. She liked having him close.  

With the plan set, Naruto knew it was time to leave. Her next destination: a country with promising tech infrastructure. The first step on a long, necessary journey.  

But there was one thing left to do.  

Say goodbye to Bruce.  

---  

She found him in his apartment, buried under stacks of books and notes, shoulders tense with exhaustion.  

"So you’re really leaving," he said, voice calm but tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide.  

"Yeah, Bruce. I need to find a way home. People are waiting for me."

He nodded, eyes downcast. "Well… good luck. It’s been nice knowing you."

Naruto scowled, punching her hip. "Don’t say it like we’ll never meet again! If that’s how it is, we will see each other. ’Ttebayo!" 

Bruce laughed — soft, but genuine. "Right, right. I hope so. And… thanks. For everything."

She crossed her arms, smiling faintly. "Yeah, yeah. I’m off now. Take care of yourself, Bruce."

"You too, Naruto. Safe travels."

On impulse, she pulled him into a hug.  

He stiffened, startled, then returned it — hesitant at first, then firm.  

"Really take care, okay?" she murmured.  

"You too."

For a moment, she hesitated.  

Bruce carried something inside him. Not just the "green monster." Fear. Guilt. Loneliness. Leaving him alone with it sat wrong with her.  

So — on a whim — she left a hidden clone behind, cloaked by henge, and a Hiraishin-marked kunai. If anything happened to Bruce, anything, she’d be there in an instant.  

The least she could do for the quiet man who’d become her first friend in this world.  

Then, with resolve in her heart and the wind in her blonde hair, Uzumaki Naruto set off on her new mission.  

---  

The Hokage's Office

"Shikamaru, still no leads on Naruto's whereabouts?"

The Rokudaime's voice was weary but firm. The eyes hidden beneath his silver bangs looked darker than usual.  

"What a drag..." The advisor sighed. "Nothing yet. That troublesome blonde's left no traces."

The silence that followed was heavy.  

Four months had passed since Naruto's disappearance, and with each week, the anxiety grew. Kakashi wouldn't admit how much it affected him, but the unease was undeniable. Even Sasuke — with his sharp perception and near-spiritual bond with his former teammate — could detect nothing. It was as if she'd vanished from the world entirely.  

Just as Kakashi was about to issue new search orders, a familiar chakra surge flooded the room — a summoning.  

Both shinobi snapped their attention to the center of the office where, with a muffled "poof!", Gamaden — one of Mount Myōboku's messenger toads — landed squarely on the Hokage's desk.  

Clutched in his paws: a scroll bearing Naruto's personal seal.  

They were at his side instantly, eyes wide with hope and urgency.  

"You found Naruto? Where is she? Is she alright?" Kakashi's words came faster than usual.  

"When's that idiot coming back? Does she need help? What happened?" Shikamaru fired off, already looming over the poor toad.  

"Was she taken? Why? Why hasn't she returned?" Kakashi pressed without pause.  

"Are the Bijuu with her? What—"

Gamaden blinked, visibly dizzy from the onslaught. Then, with an irritated huff, he spat a glob of sticky saliva directly onto both shinobi's faces, silencing them immediately.  

"NOW WILL YOU LISTEN?!" croaked the toad. "Naruto-san says she's fine and not to worry. She's working hard to get home. The scroll answers your urgent questions. My job's done. Sayonara!"

With a final hop, he vanished in another puff of smoke, leaving heavy silence in his wake.  

Kakashi — still wiping his face with a handkerchief — carefully unsealed the scroll and began to read.  

---

Kakashi-sensei,

I know you've realized I'm missing by now.  

Call off the search parties.  

I'm not in the Elemental Nations — not even in our dimension, actually.  

Thanks to a seal accident involving Shukaku and Kurama, I'm in a completely strange place unlike Konoha.  

I'm doing my best to get home, but I don't know how long it'll take.  

Please assure everyone I'm safe.  

I'll contact you when I can.  

Uzumaki Naruto, 'ttebayo!

---

Kakashi finished reading, running a slow hand over the parchment with a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Even knowing Naruto, he'd never imagined her next stunt would involve other realities.  

"Shikamaru... Recall all teams searching for Naruto. We finally have news. And..." He rubbed his temple. "We'd better explain this when everyone's gathered."

"What a drag..." Shikamaru began, but there was a faint smile on his lips this time. "But she's definitely okay?"

Kakashi closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight lift from his chest.  

"Maa... My cute student's just fine."

Shikamaru nodded, relieved. For the first time in weeks, the tension in his shoulders eased. Without another word, he left to carry out the order — his posture noticeably straighter than when he'd entered.  

Kakashi gazed out the window. Clouds drifted slowly over Konoha. The village moved on, but its heart was still absent.  

"You never fail to surprise me, Naruto..." he murmured. "Stay safe. And don't take too long coming home."

Chapter Text

Naruto exhaled in relief as she stepped off the plane onto American soil. The flight had been a test of patience — not because of security, but the deafening roar of engines that seemed to rattle her enhanced senses.  

"Told you we should’ve flown ourselves," Chōmei grumbled.  

"Next time, I’ll take your advice," she conceded. "But entering the country ‘legally’ seemed smarter for our first try."

Immigration hadn’t been difficult. With flawless forged documents from one of her clones and a touch of genjutsu, the process went smoothly. Still, she kept her guard up — in this strange world, anything could go wrong.  

Stepping onto the bustling sidewalk outside the airport, she paused. The city’s energy, the smells of exhaust, street food, and wet concrete — it all felt so alien. She closed her eyes briefly.  

I really miss Konoha…

"And fresh air. And silence. Barely any birds here," Saiken noted softly.  

"Add it to the list," she replied, forcing a small smile.  

"So where to now, brat?" Kurama rumbled.  

"Somewhere quiet to rest. Got a meeting with a potential client in two days. Some paranoid rich guy."

"Oh? Bodyguard work?" Matatabi mused. "Interesting."

"Apparently, whoever’s after him scared off local mercenaries. Forum intel says he’s offering big money, but no takers. Only the desperate—"

"—Or the confident," Kurama interjected, smug.  

"Hah! Probably some weakling, Mother! No way a meat sack from this dimension beats you!" Shukaku crowed.  

"Don’t underestimate them," Naruto warned. "We’ve seen this world has its own monsters."

"That ‘Captain America’? Or the man who turns into a beast?" Son Gokū asked, intrigued. "I’d like to fight them."

She shook her head with a wry grin. "Maybe someday. Not today."

She walked several blocks from the airport, her disguise — plain, forgettable — drawing no attention. Soon, she found a nondescript hotel with an empty lobby. Perfect.  

Check-in was swift (thanks to subtle genjutsu and her knack for crafting convincing aliases), and within minutes, she collapsed onto a clean, simple bed.  

The moment her head hit the pillow, her body seemed to shut down. It wasn’t just physical fatigue — it was the strain of constant vigilance in a world with foreign rules and invisible threats.  

But rest was part of the mission.  

Tomorrow, she’d investigate the client. Learn why he was being hunted. And most importantly: Who frightened even this world’s mercenaries.  

Right now? Five more minutes.

Before any Bijuu could protest, she was out cold.  

---  

Two days later, Naruto arrived at the New York docks clad in her full ANBU gear — matte black with lightweight plating for mobility, the white fox mask with red accents stark against the shadows. Her steps made no sound as she scanned every corner en route to the meeting point.  

The air hung thick with salt and motor oil. Rusted cranes groaned in the wind, stacked shipping containers casting dense shadows. The perfect place for dirty deals… and avoiding prying eyes.  

Between the containers, she spotted the man with the blue-and-green striped scarf — exactly as described.  

Using a minor jutsu to disguise her voice, she emerged from the darkness.  

"Dr. Finn, I presume?"

The man startled slightly but showed no fear — which surprised her. He nodded, his worried expression unwavering.  

"And you must be Kitsune," he said, voice low and tense. "I’d begun to think you wouldn’t come. Others backed out, even with my offer."

Naruto studied him. Average height, brown hair graying at the temples. His eyes were steel-green, his build sturdy but not muscular — more like someone who spent nights in labs tinkering with machines and chemicals.  

She crossed her arms. "Like I said, I need to know what I’m up against. If you want protection until that conference, tell me who’s trying to silence you."

Dr. Finn sighed, pulling a flash drive from his pocket but not yet handing it over.  

"I don’t know who. Just threats — letters, encrypted emails, warnings left at my door. A colleague disappeared. Another was found dead. They don’t want my research going public."

Naruto remained still, absorbing this behind the mask. "What’s so dangerous about your work?"

"A new nanocell. It regenerates tissue ten times more efficiently than anything existing. Could end organ failure, reverse degenerative diseases… but it’s also adaptable for less noble uses."

"Enhanced soldiers," she stated bluntly.  

"That’s their fear. That I’ll expose it before they can weaponize or monopolize it."

A slight nod. Decision made.  

"Understood. From this moment, you’re under my protection. I’ll be your shadow — you won’t even know I’m there. No one gets near you without me knowing."

The certainty in her voice eased his tension — just slightly.  

"Can I trust you?"

Her reply was ironclad. "If I’m good at one thing, it’s protecting people. That’s my nindō."

He didn’t understand the last word, but he recognized the conviction behind it. With a nod, he handed over the flash drive.  

"This is everything. And… be careful. They hired someone dangerous. A professional. Not your average thug."

Naruto pocketed the drive, then glanced at the darkening sky over the harbor.  

"Whoever they send won’t stop me from completing this mission. Dattebayo."

---  

Naruto was bored.  

Two and a half months guarding Dr. Finn, and not a single exciting incident — no chases, no ambushes, no assassination attempts worth mentioning. Just her, clones patrolling, and the doctor jumping at every creak in the hallway.  

She was starting to wonder if he was actually in danger or just a paranoid old man with a persecution complex. Even her dullest Konoha missions had something happen — hell, once she’d time-traveled and met her dad and an adorable mini Kakashi-sensei.  

Swinging her legs from a lab support beam, she seriously considered sending clones to babysit Finn while she explored New York. The city was too loud but fascinating — every corner held new secrets.  

Then the building exploded.  

The lab door rocketed inward, smashing into a metal table and triggering sparks and alarms. Naruto dropped into a combat stance before the debris settled.  

Thick gray smoke swirled with the stench of gunpowder and burnt wiring. As it cleared, a figure emerged from the wreckage.  

Tall. Caucasian. Tactical gear. A gleaming metal arm and dead-eyed stare. Dark hair brushed his shoulders, his jaw set with lethal focus.  

If Naruto hadn’t faced Orochimaru, Pain, or Madara, she might’ve shivered. Instead, she grinned behind her mask.  

"Finally!"

She lunged. Her kick — aimed at his ribs — would’ve cratered concrete had he not dodged. She whistled. "You’re quick."

He responded with silence, drawing a pistol. Bullets whizzed past as she flipped aside, but Dr. Finn couldn’t stay in the crossfire.  

"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"

Three clones poofed into existence.  

"Get the doc to safety. Priority one."

"Yes, boss!"

They vanished with the trembling scientist. Naruto’s eye twitched as the assassin tried to pursue, treating her like a speedbump.  

"Hey! HEY!" She cracked her knuckles. "You don’t know who you’re messing with!"

In a blink, she was in his face. Her punch connected with his metal arm, the impact sending him crashing over a steel table.  

Naruto cracked her neck. "Now we’re having fun."

What followed was brutal efficiency versus jinchūriki chaos. He was skilled — trained, tactical, strong — but she was Uzumaki Naruto. Even holding back, she forced him defensive within minutes, disarming him with a twist that sent his gun skidding away.  

She was about to end it when he dropped a small metal sphere.  

"Huh—?"

BOOM.

The concussive blast rattled her bones. Coughing through the smoke, she scanned the room — but he was gone.  

Shukaku growled in her mind. "You’re not chasing him, Mother?"

"Oh, we’ll meet again," she promised, adjusting her mask.  

The lab was trashed — burning concrete, scattered debris. Time to regroup with her clones and the doctor.  

As she melted into the shadows, one thing was clear:  

This was just the beginning.  

Chapter Text

Their cat-and-mouse game dragged on for weeks.  

Each encounter left Naruto more irritated — not by the attacks themselves, but by her opponent’s behavior. Same moves. Same patterns. Same rigid approach. No adaptation. No new strategies.  

And the strangest part? He fought as if he’d never faced her before. Always underestimating. Always ignoring her at first. Like his memory reset after every clash.  

It infuriated her more than Iruka-sensei’s endless lectures on patience. It was disrespectful. And, above all, wrong.  

"This isn’t normal…" she muttered, watching him retreat like a ghost following a script.  

She no longer saw him as a fighter. He was a puppet. A programmed doll.  

---  

The day of Dr. Finn’s long-awaited conference arrived. The auditorium buzzed with doctors, scientists, and government agents. Naruto — masked and codenamed Kitsune — lurked in the shadows, scanning every corner.  

Nothing happened.  

Dr. Finn delivered his speech with confidence, presenting his research with passion. Naruto spotted the visible relief in his shoulders when government officials stood, shook his hand, and pledged funding.  

The road ahead would still be long — but now, he wouldn’t walk it alone.  

As the event ended, Finn approached her in a side corridor.  

"Kitsune… thank you. You literally saved me. I wouldn’t have made it without you."

She crossed her arms. "Just fulfilling the contract. No thanks needed."

He smiled, pressing an envelope into her hands. "Even so… thank you."

With that, he merged into his new government security detail.  

Mission complete.  

---  

The name Kitsune began circulating through the mercenary underworld's darkest circles.  

She was the masked bodyguard who'd faced the Winter Soldier — a ghost even professional killers feared — and lived. More than lived: she'd made him fail. That was unprecedented.  

Her name surfaced in encrypted messages and hushed whispers. Job offers trickled in from increasingly powerful — and dangerous — clients.  

But Naruto wasn’t interested in another mission. Not yet.  

This world had more to explore, and she’d barely scratched the surface.  

So after leaving New York behind, she made her decision with a wide grin and a glint of mischief in her eyes.  

"Vegas, here I come!"

---  

Naruto’s arrival in Vegas was smooth. She found a discreet yet cozy hotel and settled in effortlessly.  

The city of sin’s vibrant energy enchanted her. She missed Konoha’s forests, but chaos and noise had always felt like home — especially after growing up near the red-light district. Long before she could write her name, she’d learned gambling from nee-chans whose lessons only made sense years later.  

In a way, this was coming home.  

Slipping into a sleek, sunset-orange evening dress, Naruto hit the casino floor. Like Tsunade’s infamous luck, her own was legendary — and combined with her knack for leveraging her charms, the first few nights were very profitable.  

On one such night, her streak caught the attention of VIPs watching from the high-roller suites above.  

Tony Stark was bored.  

This "business meeting" was endless — numbers, projections, hollow promises. Then he overheard security chatter about a fox enchanting the tables below.  

Curious, he checked the cameras.  

And saw her.  

A burgundy dress hugged every lethal curve. Bold but tasteful makeup. Golden hair loosely pinned, a few strands framing a face that glowed like a nymph’s — alive, unpredictable, radiant.  

"Invite her up," he told security. "Politely. No pressure."

Minutes later, the elevator doors opened.  

Tony paused. She was stunning up close.  

"Miss," he greeted, offering champagne with a smirk. "Welcome to the boredom tier. Hope you don’t mind mediocre company."

"Said every man pretending to be humble," she countered, taking the glass. "Prove me wrong."

He laughed, delighted.  

"Let me try." Offering his arm, he led her to a private table. "Tony Stark."

"I know." A sip. "Hard to miss in this world."

"And you?" He leaned in. "Got a name, or keeping me guessing?"

She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "Where’s the fun in spoiling everything at once?"

Tony’s grin widened. Hook, line, and sinker.

As the night wore on, he was mesmerized. Not just by her looks, but her mind — the sharp wit, the laugh like wind chimes, the way she matched his banter without ever fully yielding. She flirted but kept him at arm’s length.  

She was, frankly, perfect.  

When he invited her to his suite, she refused with a smile.  

"Fun night. But I don’t do one-night stands."

Tony blinked. That… didn’t happen often. And damn if it didn’t intrigue him more.  

"Fair," he conceded. "Rain check?"

A half-smile. "If you’re in New York, buy me coffee."

Never one to miss an opening, he countered: "What if I book that coffee now?"

She assessed him, then plucked his phone from his pocket and typed her number.  

"You’re the first woman," he noted, "who’s said that to me without batting an eye."

"Goodnight, Tony."

"Night, mystery woman."

As the elevator doors closed, Tony realized — for the first time in ages — he was perfectly content not ending the night in a stranger’s bed.  

And he had no idea how deep this fascination would go.  

---  

The Hokage’s meeting chamber was quieter than usual. A charged anticipation hung in the air as the scroll unfurled across the dark wooden table.  

Kakashi, seated at the head, studied each word with laser focus. His fingers gripped the parchment like it was the only tether to Naruto in this moment.  

Around him, the others waited — some anxious, some worried, a few with carefully feigned calm.  

"She’s alive," Kakashi finally said, voice low but steady. His eyes lifted, meeting each gaze. "And adapting to the world she’s in."

Sakura exhaled sharply, her shoulders loosening for the first time since entering. She leaned forward, eyes glistening. "Is she— is she hurt?"

"No mention of injuries. By all accounts, she’s safe." He slid the scroll toward her. "She’s created an identity, a network. Working as a mercenary — but only on missions that align with her principles." 

Tsunade arched a brow, snatching a second scroll left beside the first. Her eyes devoured the pages with growing interest. "These medical texts — from her world?" she muttered. "Some theories challenge foundational iryō-ninjutsu. Chemical combinations I’ve never seen. This is gold."

"She sent them for you and me," Sakura noted, tracing the papers reverently. "Said we’d understand them better." 

"Damn right we will," Tsunade smirked. "Clever girl."

"Doesn’t change the fact she’s still trapped," Shikamaru interjected, forehead creased, elbows planted on the table. "Even her summons can’t cross dimensions without her direct permission. If that seal activated by accident, we’ve no way to replicate it."

Sakura whirled on him. "So what? We sit here while she figures it out alone? This is Naruto, Shikamaru. She always puts others first— and now she’s alone—"

"I worry too," he said softly. "But we’re powerless. Sending shinobi blindly would waste resources. Cause more chaos."

Yamato, silent until now, spoke up. "Agreed. And Naruto’s absence is already stirring unrest among civilians. Clan councils are asking questions. If we panic, we’ll fuel worse rumors."

Sakura’s fists clenched, but she didn’t retort.  

"I get it," she said at last, voice thick. "But I can’t just— accept this. After everything she’s endured, now she’s carrying this alone?"

"Not entirely alone," Sasuke said, quiet but firm. All eyes turned to him. "I’ve been researching. Testing if the Rinnegan can trace her. It’s unstable. Dangerous. But possible."  

Sakura gaped. "Why didn’t you say so?!"

"Because it’s not viable yet. Might never be. False hope helps no one."

Tsunade watched silently, fingers drumming the table as she reread Naruto’s words.  

"Even if we can’t retrieve her yet, she’s alive. And planning ahead. That’s more than I’d hoped," she murmured.  

Kakashi sighed deeply, briefly shutting his eyes.  

"Now the real question… How do I explain this to the other Kage? The summit’s in three days. They’ll expect Konoha’s ambassador— and she’s not coming home anytime soon."

Shikamaru steepled his fingers. "What a drag. Tell the truth: a dimensional incident. Naruto’s alive but temporarily unavailable. Still advocating for peace, even from afar."

"And if they press for details?" Yamato asked.  

"Then say trusting Naruto is trusting Konoha," Sakura said, eyes blazing. "She’s never given us reason to doubt."

Sasuke huffed — almost a laugh. "She’ll mock us for worrying when she hears."

"Maa… She will," Kakashi agreed, gazing out the window. "But somewhere out there… she’ll smile knowing we never stopped looking."

---  

Chapter Text

Since returning to New York, Naruto had continued exploring this world discreetly. She took occasional missions as Kitsune — nothing as dramatic as guarding Dr. Finn, but enough to stay sharp and stave off boredom.  

It was a quiet existence, moving through alleyways and urban shadows. There was a different adrenaline here — grittier, dirtier — and Naruto was starting to understand its rhythm.  

In her downtime, she read reports from the other infiltrated Bijuu. Weekly updates: Matatabi in Japan, Kokuō traversing African deserts, Son Gokū discovering a hidden community shielded by some natural repulsion field — ancient barriers or advanced tech, perhaps.  

"Why hide something so fiercely in a world without chakra systems?" she mused.  

Kurama’s growl rumbled in her mind. "Either hiding from danger… or protecting the world from something worse."

Between missions, she kept up with Tony Stark’s erratic texts — always provocative, always entertaining.  

> Tony: "Sent the wrong bot for coffee. Now I’m stuck with vanilla mocha."

> Naruto: "Serves you right. Bet the bot has better taste."

> Tony: "It does. It likes you. Can’t compete."

> Naruto: "Try harder."

> Tony: "Dinner. Wine. Penthouse view. Enough?"

> Naruto: "Too flashy. Keep it simple."

She smiled at these exchanges. They made her feel human amidst the chaos.  

Then, tranquility shattered.  

The special kunai she’d left with Bruce’s guard clone vibrated in its holster.  

With a seal, Naruto flashed away — reappearing in a dim Brazilian alley as her clone dissolved into smoke.  

"Two men surveilling the building," the clone reported. "American accents. Mentioned ‘extracting the target.’ Waiting for the right moment."

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. "Does Banner know?"

"No. He was asleep."

"Good. My turn."

Clad in ANBU gear, she slipped through the back entrance. The air was thick with tropical heat, crickets chirping obliviously.  

A silent leap through the window, and she was inside Bruce’s modest apartment. She ghosted toward the bedroom—  

A floorboard creaked.  

Bruce jolted awake, grabbing a chair as a makeshift weapon. "Who’s there?!"

Naruto stood still in the shadows, voice low and distorted. "Not an enemy. Naruto sent me."

Bruce stiffened. "Where is she? Who are you?"

She raised a hand, revealing a scrap of cloth embroidered with the Uzumaki spiral. "Her orders: if threats came, I’d extract you. Now."

Disbelief twisted his face. "You expect me to trust a mask? This could be a government trick!"

"If I wanted you captured," she said evenly, "you’d already be unconscious. We’re out of time."

A step forward. "I’m the only thing between you and a cell. Grab essentials. Move."

Something in her stance — the unshakable calm — made him lower the chair. "Damn it… Fine."

As he scrambled for items, Naruto watched the door. With a touch, she activated Hiraishin—  

—and they reappeared in a Paraguayan jungle clearing. Humid air, birdsong. Perfect cover.  

She handed him a pre-packed bag. "Food. Water. Cash."

Bruce stared, breath ragged. "What are you?"

The question hung heavy. For a moment, only the mask answered.  

Then, softly: "Someone who protects what matters."

A flash — and she was gone.  

(But a hidden clone remained, watching. Always watching.)  

---  

Nick Fury prided himself on many things. His ability to predict threats before they materialized. His global network of contacts. His unshakable calm in chaos. He was the man who always knew.  

But now, something unsettled him. And that pissed him off.  

Kitsune.

The name echoed in encrypted reports like an urban legend. A mercenary with no identity, no history, no trail. Nothing.

Fury stood in the command center, glaring at multiple screens — each displaying fragmented footage of the elusive figure. Blurry images. Disjointed clips.  

"She faced the Winter Soldier and walked away unscathed," Hill reported, handing him a new dossier. "Protected the target and vanished before any agent could blink."

Fury didn’t respond. His jaw clenched as he studied a frozen frame: a masked woman mid-smoke, her dark hood and white mask stark against the chaos. The gear — tactical yet stylized. Military yet ancient. Unclassifiable.  

"Like trying to grab smoke," Natasha remarked, leaning against a nearby table. "No matter what we do, she’s three steps ahead. And the worst part? She knows it."

Fury turned slowly. "You’ve seen her. What’s your read?"

Natasha exhaled, recalling their encounter — or rather, her failure to contain Kitsune.  

"She doesn’t fight like mercs do. Moves like she’s toying with us. Uses distractions, illusions, escape routes no one else would see." A pause. "Too precise to be improvisation. Too fluid to be trained."

Hill raised a brow. "You think she was groomed by someone?"

"Maybe. But where? By who? Nothing in SHIELD’s archives matches her style. It’s like she invented her own playbook."

Fury’s fists tightened. "You’re my best agents. And yet she slips through cleaner than a goddamn ghost."

He slammed the dossier onto the table.  

"We need to know what we’re dealing with. Because this? This smells bigger than a high-end gun-for-hire."

Hill nodded, pulling another file. "Contacts who’ve interacted with her know nothing. Altered voice, shifting appearance, fake aliases… Only the codename sticks: Kitsune."

"Means ‘fox,’" Natasha said. "Clever. Manipulative. Slippery. Fits."

"Great," Fury grumbled. "Now we’ve got a fox playing vigilante outside our system."

He rubbed his temples — a rare show of exhaustion.  

"Barton lost her trail before he realized he was being played. Barton. And she solo’d an asset that nearly killed you." He jabbed the screen. "You."

Natasha’s gaze dropped. "She saved me. Had every chance to kill me. Didn’t." Arms crossed, quieter: "If she’d wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here."

The words hung in the air. Fury felt frustration burn in his chest.  

"She’s not trying to eliminate us. Just playing her own game."

"But what does she want?" Hill pressed.  

Fury’s voice darkened. "That’s what pisses me off most. I. Don’t. Know."

A beat of silence. Then, to Hill: "Keep digging. Dark channels, erased files, dead languages— I want anything."

To Natasha: "And you— if she surfaces again…"

"Observe. Don’t engage. Understood."

He nodded. "If she hasn’t shown her hand yet… it’s because she chooses not to."

And Fury hated when someone knew more than he did.

Chapter Text

While Nick Fury and SHIELD scrambled to uncover the identity of their mysterious new enigma, the woman responsible for all the fuss sat calmly in a New York café — across from Tony Stark.  

Despite his packed schedule of meetings, presentations, and Stark Industries events, Tony had carved out time to slow down. He called it a "strategic breather," but even Pepper knew better.  

Now, at a modest corner table, he laughed freely — a rare lightness in his eyes — trading barbs with one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met.  

Naruto was at ease. Sun-kissed hair loose in careless waves, a light blouse, ever-watchful eyes, and a playful smirk. She stirred her coffee absently, as if completely at peace with the world. Maybe she was.  

Tony studied her with equal parts fascination and bewilderment. Every sentence was unexpected, every reaction unpredictable. Strangest of all? She seemed utterly immune to the charm he wielded like a weapon.  

He’d known many women — beautiful, powerful, influential. Some played his games. Others refused. But Naruto? She didn’t play at all. She simply was. Unapologetic. Uncontained. It disarmed him.  

He’d tried to impress her (subtly, of course) — exclusive dinners, luxury cars, access few could dream of. Nothing landed. She’d deflect with a joke or claim the best burgers came from a food cart, not a Michelin-starred kitchen.  

Yet here she was. Still talking to him. Still texting him — messages ranging from pure sarcasm to sly teases.  

> "You live in meetings? Explains the perpetual boredom face."

> "Fall asleep in another boardroom and I’ll leak that you snore."

> "Good thing you’re narcissistic. Keeps my ego in check."

And he’d reply. Sometimes grinning, sometimes scoffing — always waiting for the next one.  

Pepper noticed first. How he’d answer texts instantly. How he’d smile at his phone or stare at the screen too long before typing. How he seemed to genuinely try to nurture a connection that wasn’t transactional.  

She caught him adjusting his tie in the mirror more than once. Watched him decline a gala to "breathe normal air." But most telling? The exhaustion in his eyes — gone.  

Now, in the café, Tony felt out of control. And it unsettled him.  

He was used to being the man with all the answers. All the weapons. All the exits. But with Naruto? He was just Tony. And somehow, that was enough.  

He was torn. Part of him wanted to dive deeper —nask what she thought, felt, hid. The other part screamed to retreat.  

Useless. She intrigued him. Made him laugh without trying. Challenged him without malice. Made him want to stay just a little longer.  

Naruto was mid-story about helping an old man cross the street — only for him to nearly run over his own foot with a grocery cart. Tony laughed so hard he choked on his coffee.  

"You attract chaos. It’s a gift."

"Chaos is overrated," she said with a crooked smile. "I just like places that feel alive."

He held her gaze a beat too long. "Were you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"This… at ease. With everything. With yourself."

She paused. Then chuckled. "Maybe I learned to be. Or maybe I just stopped caring about things that don’t matter."

Tony smiled — genuine, but weighted. A silent admiration. A quiet fear. He didn’t know what he felt. Only that he wanted to keep feeling it.  

She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Gotta run. The world’s waiting to cause more trouble."

He rose too, hesitating. Then — instead of some lavish invite — he pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to her.  

"Stole this from a boring meeting. Useless, but maybe you’ll draw something interesting with it."

She twirled the pen between her fingers. "Stylish. And it works?" A test scribble. "Points for functionality."

"Return it next time. Or don’t." A shrug. Casual. (It wasn’t.)  

Her smile held secrets. "Who knows? The world’s small. Smaller than it seems."

Then she turned, walking away light as air — as if leaving nothing behind.  

Tony watched until she rounded the corner. The aftertaste was strange: part wonder, part restlessness. Like he’d just met a storm in human form.  

---  

Naruto left the café at a leisurely pace, matching New York’s golden-hour rhythm. The sky bled orange and gold, the breeze toying with her blonde hair as she carried the echo of Tony Stark’s voice with her.  

She wasn’t sure what to make of him.  

Tony was… interesting. Sharp-witted, quick with a joke — the weird kind. Always pretending to care less than he did. She recognized that tactic; she’d used smiles the same way.  

He made her laugh. A lot, actually. She hadn’t laughed this easily since she was a genin. That unsettled her — not unpleasantly, but like she was stepping onto unfamiliar ground.  

Because Tony made her feel different.  

Not better or worse. Just seen. Like someone truly looked at her, even without knowing her whole story. Back home, few saw her beyond the legend. Here, with him, she was just a woman drinking coffee.  

It was nice. And dangerous.  

She didn’t know how to feel. Tony was charming, but she’d met charming men before. What confused her was how he listened — even when he pretended not to. Or how his eyes shifted when she smiled.  

Maybe what intrigued her most was that he didn’t treat her like someone who needed fixing or worshiping. That was rare.  

Naruto shoved her hands into her coat pockets with a soft sigh. She didn’t want to overthink it. She had enough to worry about — missions, Bijuu reports, the seal, the way home. None of that involved quiet coffees with clever, charming men.  

But she didn’t regret saying yes.  

Maybe Tony was just a friend. Someone who made the world feel lighter.  

Or maybe more.  

She didn’t know yet. And for now, that was okay.  

The world could wait a little longer.  

Chapter Text

Naruto sat cross-legged in her Manhattan apartment, morning light spilling over scrolls and half-finished seal formulas. The Bijuu’s bickering — Kurama complaining about takeout, Matatabi debating theory with Kokuō — had become white noise. She hummed absent replies until the TV news snagged her attention.  

"Two enhanced individuals confirmed battling in Harlem. One identified as the Hulk—"

Her brush clattered to the floor. The screen showed chaos, panic, and amidst it all — a familiar green giant.  

"Damn it."

In a flash, she was in her Kitsune gear: mask secured, hair tied back, cloak draped over her shoulders. A Hiraishin seal glowed on her wrist as she vanished.  

She reappeared on a Harlem rooftop where her clone waited, tense.  

"Report."

"Bruce returned to the U.S. clean. No hunters. Met some people, seemed calm. Then injected himself with something — couldn’t see what. Armed men showed up. Another monster — different, angrier. Bruce jumped from a flying machine. Bruce went green. Fast. Fight started. Couldn’t intervene."

Naruto’s eyes scanned the battlefield. Hulk needed space. Intervening too soon could get people killed.  

She prepped隐蔽 seals on nearby buildings, placed Hiraishin markers as escape routes, activated sensory scramblers. Ready to strike if needed.  

For over an hour, she watched. The new monster was brutal, but Hulk fought with control. Bruce was still in there.

When the enemy fell and Hulk retreated, she shadowed him across rooftops. The moment he collapsed in an alley, exhausted, she moved.  

A firm arm around his shoulders, she hauled him up — dodging cameras, drones, heat signatures. Shunshin carried them through dense urban stretches until they reached a forest shielded by mineral deposits that blocked tracking.  

There, she laid him under a tree. Applied fuuinjutsu to erase energy traces, set non-lethal perimeter traps. Left a backpack beside him: clothes, water, cash, a burner phone. On its screen:  

> If you need help, call. You’re not alone. — Naruto

She lingered. His face was peaceful — a rarity. Strange to see him vulnerable. Bruce was a friend. An ally who’d trusted her. That trust was enough.  

"You shouldn’t carry this alone," she murmured, adjusting the bag’s strap. "But I’ve got you now."

A new clone materialized to stand guard. Then she returned to the city with purpose.  

False trails. Forged footage. Digital ghosts in databases. Enough misdirection to waste even Fury’s time for weeks.  

Back in her apartment, Naruto exhaled heavily. The Bijuu had gone quiet — almost reverent. She stared at the skyline, adrenaline still thrumming in her veins.  

Protecting Bruce was the bare minimum. He was hers. And she shielded what was hers — with everything she had.  

---  

Bruce woke with a jolt — heart pounding, skin clammy, limbs leaden as if he’d weathered a storm. Blurry vision took seconds to adjust to dappled forest light. He lay on soft earth, birdsong and rustling leaves a stark contrast to the violence in his fractured memories.  

The reality hit hard. The fight. The transformation. The other monster.  

He sat up sharply, scanning the shadows. Alone — but unmistakably brought here.  

Beside him: a backpack. Neat. Methodical. Familiar.  

She was here.

His chest tightened with uneasy relief. Who was this woman? How did Naruto know her? Why did she appear at the right moments — only to vanish before he could thank her, or even understand her?  

Bruce stood gingerly, muscles protesting. His clothes were torn, caked with dirt and dried blood. Vulnerability gnawed at him — worse now, not knowing who watched from the trees.  

Trust didn’t come easy. For good reason.  

He unzipped the bag cautiously. Clean clothes. Water. Protein bars. Precise supplies, as if she’d anticipated his every need — which only unnerved him more. She knew too much. About him. His patterns. Now, his location.  

At the bottom: a burner phone. The screen lit up at his touch.  

> If you need help, call. You’re not alone. — Naruto

Bruce froze, staring at those words. Something warm flickered in his chest — quiet comfort from the one person who’d reached out without demanding anything. Naruto.  

Since the beginning, he’d avoided connections. Friendships were risks. Affection bred vulnerability. Yet Naruto asked no questions, sought no explanations. And still, she was there. Always there.  

It terrified him.  

Not because of her. But what he might bring down upon her.  

Fingers tightening around the phone, his thoughts raced: Is she okay? Did she cross dangerous people for me? What does she know about that woman? Can she protect herself?

He didn’t know. And he couldn’t risk finding out at her expense.  

With a tense exhale, he buried the phone deep in the bag. Not yet. First, he had to vanish. Create distance. Erase trails.  

Once more, he was running.  

He changed into the clean clothes, eyes darting through the trees. Then he walked — away from New York. Away from America. Away from anyone he cared about.  

One thought burned through the fear and doubt:  

I’m sorry, Naruto. Thank you — but I can’t drag you into this.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Naruto’s phone buzzed relentlessly — a barrage of messages from Tony.  

He’d clearly seen the Harlem destruction reports. His texts oscillated between panic and forced nonchalance:  

> Tell me you weren’t near that warzone.

> Naruto?? Respond.

> Okay maybe you’re asleep. Or meditating. Or in an epic battle. (Praying it’s not option 3.)

> If you blew something up, just warn me so I can prep the lawyers.

> You good?

> This silence feels personal.

> Noon. Restaurant on 75th near Central Park. Not a request. (It’s a plea. But a dignified one.)

She stared at the screen, the Bijuu’s bickering a familiar backdrop.  

"He seems… genuinely concerned," Saiken noted, almost surprised.  

"Or it’s just monkey theatrics," Shukaku grumbled.  

"Theatrics or not, his worry is real," Isobu countered. "You should go."

Naruto hesitated. The attention unsettled her in a way she couldn’t name — not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. Outside Kakashi, Iruka, Sakura… few had ever cared like this. So bluntly. So loudly.  

After a long pause, she typed back:  

< I’m fine. Noon it is.

---  

The restaurant was charmingly discreet — one of those small, critically adored spots that flew under the radar. Half-empty at this hour, its hushed atmosphere stood in stark contrast to New York’s usual clamor.  

Tony didn’t wait for her to reach the table. He was on his feet the moment she entered, crossing the room with hurried steps, eyes scanning her for bruises, scrapes — any sign she’d been in danger.  

Naruto crossed her arms, quirking a brow with a half-smile.  

"You actually came."

"Of course I came," Tony said, relief bleeding through. "Thought you’d ghost me."

"Considered it."

Her casual tone didn’t mask how touched she was.  

Once seated, she cut to the chase. "The fight was miles from my place. I’m fine. Wasn’t even close."

Tony exhaled hard. Despite his efforts to seem relaxed, the tension in his shoulders was obvious.  

Naruto studied him. He’d visibly calmed, but restlessness still flickered in his eyes.  

"Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? Board meeting, private jet, whatever…?" More curious than accusatory.  

Tony scratched his neck, avoiding her gaze. "Coincidence. Had a thing in the city. Figured I’d check if you still had all your limbs."

Naruto narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t buying it — but let it slide.  

What she didn’t know (and Tony would never admit): He’d bolted from Malibu at 3 AM, canceling high-stakes meetings and ignoring urgent calls. Pepper was probably drafting his obituary. But he’d needed to see her.  

A text saying "I’m fine" wasn’t enough. He needed visual confirmation. Needed to feel the relief.  

Now, faced with her calm presence, he felt… off-balance. This wasn’t his norm. He’d known fascinating women before — brilliant, beautiful, mysterious. But Naruto was all those things with something more. A dangerous serenity. A depth that defied his logic.  

Tony Stark hid behind sarcasm and charm. With her, those defenses crumbled.  

And it terrified him.  

"So…" He forced casualness. "No collapsing buildings on your way here? No flying cars?"

Naruto laughed — light, genuine. "Just a guy spamming my phone."

"He must like you a lot."

"Or he’s just dramatic."

They smiled.  

Then, as if an invisible weight lifted, the moment lightened. They ordered. Talked. Naruto described a dog that kept stealing food outside her building. Tony confessed a failed bet with a French chef.  

For a while, the chaos outside didn’t exist.  

---  

While Naruto enjoyed a quiet meal with Tony, others were having a far less pleasant day.  

In Shield’s command center, Nick Fury was livid.  

Footage of Harlem’s devastation played on loop — helicopters circling rubble, civilians screaming. but fury didn’t see chaos. He saw insult.  

Pacing with hands clenched behind his back, every word he spat was a bullet:  

"Twelve hours. Twelve hours chasing decoys." His voice was lethally calm. "Wasting time, agents, resources. Do you have any idea how much that pisses me off?"

Clint Barton whistled low from his swivel chair, trying to diffuse the tension — until Fury’s glare snapped him to attention.  

"Look, no one expected this level of precision," Clint defended. "Every false lead, every hacked camera, every planted witness. This was calculated."

"Over-calculated," Maria Hill amended, reviewing the data. "We’re not dealing with amateurs. Someone manipulated our systems like they knew them."

"A distraction," Clint concluded. "All those breadcrumbs? Planted. Someone wanted us running in circles."

Fury stopped mid-stride.  

"Banner’s got help." His voice grated with frustration. "And whoever it is knows exactly how to ghost us."

Hill crossed her arms. "Who’d have motive? Or access? Kitsune?" A hesitant guess. "She’s vanished clean before."

Natasha, silent until now, looked up from her reports.  

"No direct links between them. No prior contact, no shared connections. If it’s her, it’s personal — and that’s not her style."

"Agreed," Fury clipped. "Banner doesn’t have the cash to hire that kind of help. Unless she’s developed some attachment—"

He cut himself off with a dismissive wave.  

"No." More to himself. "This is bigger. I need answers. Not hunches."

His glare swept the room. Agents averted their eyes.  

"I want every frame of footage re-scanned. Every system breach traced. Re-interview all witnesses. Squeeze whoever you need to." A fist slammed the table. "On my desk. By tonight."

A heavy silence fell.  

Fury turned back to the screens, jaw clenched.  

"First that slippery merc playing vigilante, now a ghost helping a monster disappear…" He exhaled sharply. "This isn’t an attack. It’s a game."

And he was tired of losing.  

"Fine." A shark-like smile. "Let’s see who laughs last."

Chapter Text

Days after inadvertently plunging one of the world’s largest intelligence agencies into chaos, Naruto strolled calmly through a street market. The weather was pleasant, the hum of the crowd around her brought a rare sense of peace, and the simple act of picking fresh fruit gave her an almost comforting semblance of normalcy.  

She was sampling a slice of watermelon offered by a smiling vendor when the phone in her pocket buzzed. Naruto wiped her fingers on her shirt and pulled out the device. Her eyes locked onto the number flashing on the screen — and her heart leapt.  

She immediately stepped away from the crowd, hurrying into a quieter alley. She answered on the second ring, her breath held.  

“Hello?”  

“Naruto?”  

The voice on the other end was low, rough, tired — but unmistakably Bruce’s.  

Naruto closed her eyes for a brief moment. Relief exploded inside her like a silent storm, flooding her entire body.  

“Bruce!” she murmured, barely containing her emotion.  

Hearing him, knowing he was alive and lucid enough to call, made every second of waiting worth it.  

But his voice quickly yanked her back to reality.  

“I only called to say you shouldn’t try to find me again,” he said firmly, though with obvious hesitation. “If anyone realizes you’re connected to me, you could get hurt. I can’t let that happen.”  

Naruto’s stomach twisted. Her expression hardened instantly.  

“Wait!” she said sharply, before he could hang up. The urgency in her voice worked. A tense silence followed. He was still on the line.  

She seized the opening.  

“The phone I gave you is untraceable, Bruce. I swear. There’s nothing anyone could use to track you through it.”  

Silence.  

Naruto bit her lower lip. Her chest tightened with frustration. It was maddening not to just tell him the truth, to show him everything she knew, everything she could do. But she couldn’t take that risk — not for him, not for herself.  

Yet her mind drifted back to the painstaking process of designing that concealment seal.  

The moment she realized this world’s technology allowed people to be tracked by something as simple as a phone signal, Naruto knew she needed something new. Something hers. She’d spent sleepless nights studying her father’s old scrolls, poring over every note on barrier seals, reinforcement, and dispersion. She’d blended shinobi disguise techniques with her own experience as a jinchūriki, adapting chakra flows to interact with electromagnetic waves.  

The result was a tiny, near-invisible seal, meticulously engraved inside the phone’s casing. A fusion of ninja arts and modern tech — and, as far as she knew, undetectable and irremovable unless she willed it. Her own chakra fueled the seal remotely, masking all emissions with subtle, flawless precision.  

Of course, she couldn’t explain any of this to Bruce. But her voice carried conviction.  

“That’s impossible,” Bruce finally replied, skeptical. “Not with today’s technology.”  

Naruto sighed, keeping her voice calm, gentle, but resolute.  

“I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. I had to learn to protect myself, Bruce. Being here means staying one step ahead. Trust me. That phone won’t put you in danger. And I…” Her voice wavered for a second. “I’d feel a lot better if I could hear your voice sometimes. If I knew you were okay.”  

The silence on the other end grew heavier. Bruce didn’t answer immediately. He was processing it all. Her calm tone clashed with the chaos still swirling in his mind. He didn’t want to doubt her — Naruto had always been kind, considerate, careful — but none of this made sense. Why did she care so much? What wasn’t she telling him? And who was that mysterious woman who’d rescued him?  

“That woman who showed up in Brazil,” he asked cautiously, “who was she? What’s your connection to her?”  

Naruto pressed the phone closer to her ear, staring at the uneven stones of the alley floor. She’d known this question was coming.  

“Someone from my past,” she answered carefully. “I wish I could tell you more. But I can’t. Not now.”  

Bruce didn’t like the answer — not because he distrusted her, but because it left him with more questions. Still, something in Naruto’s voice told him she was doing what she believed was right. He recognized that hesitation. That need to protect rather than explain. He lived it every day.  

“Alright,” he said, softer now. “I just need to know you’re safe too.”  

Naruto smiled, small but genuine.  

“I’m fine. Promise. Right now, you’re the one who needs to be careful. And if you can… just check in sometimes, okay? So I know you’re still out there.”  

Bruce let out a long sigh, as if something inside him relented, even if doubts remained.  

“Yeah, Naruto. I’ll try.”  

The call ended shortly after, leaving Naruto standing in the narrow alley, phone still pressed to her ear. A light breeze swept past, carrying the scent of fruit and dust from the market.  

She pocketed the device and took a deep breath, eyes on the clear sky, as Kurama grumbled in her mind.  

“You know this’ll backfire sooner or later, right, gaki?”

She replied mentally, weary but firm.  

“Yeah. But as long as he’s safe, it’s worth it.”

---  

Bruce stared at the phone as if it were some kind of mysterious artifact. The call had ended nearly two minutes ago, but he still sat in the same spot, the device resting in his palm, his eyes fixed on the darkened screen.  

The room around him was silent — a simple rented space under a fake name, with windows covered by heavy curtains and every gap sealed with black tape. The ceiling fan spun slowly, its mechanical whir the only constant sound. The only living thing in there seemed to be the restlessness growing in his chest.  

Naruto.

She’d sounded relieved to hear him. As if she’d been holding her breath since the day he vanished. Bruce wasn’t sure what he’d expected from that call — maybe anger, frustration, accusations. But all she’d wanted was to know if he was okay. Just that.  

And, of course, she’d insisted the phone she gave him was "impossible to trace."

Bruce shook his head, still wrestling with that claim. It wasn’t that he thought Naruto was lying, but none of it made sense. The technology simply didn’t allow for that — not any he knew of. No common material, no circuit design, no known electromagnetic shielding could make a phone 100% invisible. That was sci-fi. That was cutting-edge military prototype territory — and even then…  

Even then, she’d said it with such certainty. Such conviction.

And there’d been something in her voice, a quiet steadiness. No arrogance, no forced mystery — just confidence. The kind that came from someone who knew exactly what they were talking about… and cared enough to share it with him.  

Bruce leaned back against the cold wall, trying to quiet his mind. But the restlessness was there, alive, pulsing under his skin.  

"Someone from my past," she’d said about the woman in Brazil.  

Bruce knew about keeping secrets. Knew the weight of hiding who you were, what you could do. Knew how fear made you build walls — walls so high even you couldn’t see over them sometimes.  

So he recognized that tone. The one belonging to someone who carried weight, too.  

But why for him? Why take the risk? Why help someone she barely knew — someone who was, objectively, a walking liability?  

He thought of how she’d appeared out of nowhere. How she’d pulled him out without hesitation. How she hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t demanded explanations. Just acted. Saved. Protected.  

She has power, but it’s more than that.

She had empathy. And that was rare.  

Rarer still was someone caring without expecting anything in return.  

Bruce set the phone on the bedside table and stood, walking slowly to the window. He loosened the curtain just enough to peer outside. All quiet. But he knew that quiet was an illusion. It was only a matter of time before someone picked up a trail. He always left a trail.  

Except, apparently, Naruto.  

He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth. His thoughts spun wildly.  

Naruto was a mystery. But strangely, she was a mystery that made him feel safe.  

Maybe it was the way she spoke. Or how she seemed genuinely worried. Maybe it was that she didn’t treat him like a monster, or a weapon, or a mistake. Just like a person.  

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment and — in an impulse that surprised even him — smiled. One of those small, tired, but real smiles.  

If she’s right about this phone, then maybe I can stop running for a while. Just long enough to breathe.

He took a deep breath and slumped against the wall, letting the weight of exhaustion finally settle over him.  

And as the fan kept spinning, Bruce Banner closed his eyes, allowing himself — for the first time in days — to just exist.  

Knowing that, somewhere out there, there was someone who cared.  

Even if he didn’t understand why.

Chapter Text

Naruto could hardly believe it had been just over a year since her life took that wild, unexpected turn. One year since she’d been sucked into this strange, vibrant world — one that defied every shred of ninja logic. The first few months had been the hardest, of course — adapting to the pace, the technology, the customs, the way everything felt both frantic and disconnected. The months after that were pure chaos, between missions, intel gathering, and seal work. But somehow, she’d found balance in the madness.  

Her new apartment in Queens was small but cozy. A high floor with windows that let the morning sun pour in. Plants on the balcony, stacks of books in every corner, and — of course — a hidden closet filled with scrolls and equipment no one was meant to see.  

It was in that quiet neighborhood that she’d met May Parker — a kind, sharp-witted woman with a laugh as loud as it was spontaneous. They’d crossed paths at a local market when May dropped a bag of tomatoes, and Naruto — with reflexes far too quick for a civilian — caught every single one before they hit the ground. Their friendship had blossomed from there.  

May’s nephew, Peter, was a bright-eyed kid with glasses too big for his face and a curiosity that seemed to swallow the whole room. He was eight years old and asked questions at machine-gun speed. At first, he’d been shy around Naruto, but after a few visits, he’d started trailing her around the house, firing off queries like, “Can you fight like in video games?” or “Why is your hair so cool?” Naruto answered patiently, amused by how much he reminded her of the academy genin back home.  

And now, as she unpacked groceries in May’s tiny kitchen, the buzzing of her phone on the counter caught her attention. An unknown number. Her instincts flared for a second — always braced for the unusual — but she answered with a cautious “Hello?”

“Naruto Uzumaki? This is Virginia Potts, executive assistant at Stark Enterprises. You can call me Pepper.”  

Naruto straightened almost imperceptibly.  

“Oh… hi. Everything okay? How can I help?”  

“Well, technically, you already are helping,” Pepper replied, her voice laced with refined irony. “I’m in the middle of negotiating with an absurdly intelligent, stubborn man. And right now, I’m using you as leverage.”  

Naruto blinked.  

“Wait, what?”  

In the background, a familiar, overly dramatic voice wailed:  

“This is emotional blackmail! I’m being oppressed by the system of meetings and agendas! I want my lawyer!”  

“Oh, stop it, Tony,” Pepper said calmly off-hand before returning to the call. “If you finish these two meetings, I promise to call Naruto and tell her you’re being a functional adult today. Maybe it’ll even earn you a coffee meet-up.”  

Naruto’s eyes widened.  

“Hold on—you’re using me as bait?”  

Pepper sighed lightly.  

“Not bait. Motivation. He’s been… difficult to manage lately. And you’ve been a surprisingly effective influence.”  

Naruto pressed the phone to her ear, still baffled but now grinning slightly.  

“Not sure if I should be flattered or concerned.”  

“A little of both is healthy,” Pepper deadpanned.  

Tony shouted in the background:  

“I’m writing this into my will, Pep!”  

Naruto snorted, shaking her head.  

“Is he always like this?”  

“This? This is a calm day,” Pepper said matter-of-factly. “But thank you — really. Even unintentionally, you’ve been good for him.”  

Naruto fell silent for a beat. Her chest tightened with something odd — a mix of fondness and discomfort. She never knew how to react to this kind of acknowledgment.  

“Glad to hear it,” she murmured, sincere. “And, well, now that we’ve got a direct line, if you ever need backup, just call. Even if it’s just to warn me he’s being dramatic again.”  

“Will do,” Pepper said, amusement clear in her voice.  

The call ended with a brief but warm goodbye. Naruto stood there for a moment, phone still in hand, staring at nothing. She’d never imagined someone — let alone two someones — would argue about her in real time. Life in this world truly followed no logic.  

With a sigh, she set the phone down and turned back to the kitchen, carefully opening the oven. May was determined to master homemade bread, and the smell wafting out was… well, at least it didn’t reek of burning this time.  

“Naruto!” May called from the living room. “If it looks like rubber, that’s normal, okay?”  

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Naruto muttered, grinning as she tied her apron.  

---  

Naruto walked into the living room carefully balancing the freshly baked bread on a tray, a cloth draped over it like some precious artifact. The smell was... unique. Not exactly bad, but certainly unlike any bread she'd ever encountered before — not even those strange loaves Tony insisted on ordering with unpronounceable French names.

May sat on the couch, blowing on her fingertips with a look that was both triumphant and nervous.

"I think it actually worked this time!" she declared excitedly. "I mean, the dough didn't stick to the pan, and I didn't mistake sugar for salt again."

"That's progress, right?" Naruto replied, keeping her tone encouraging.

Peter came running from his bedroom, notebook in hand and eyes sparkling with excitement. "Naruto! Naruto! Are you gonna try Aunt May's Bread 3.0?"

"3.0?" Naruto raised an eyebrow. "How many versions came before this?"

"Two that we don't talk about," Peter whispered conspiratorially, covering his mouth. "The first one turned to stone. The second one turned to slime. But this one looks like real bread!"

May rolled her eyes. "Kids are so loyal, aren't they?"

"I'm rooting for this version, May," Naruto said, maintaining her smile as she cut a slice. The bread made an alarmingly crunchy sound. She took a careful bite, her eyes widening at the dense texture and slight over-fermented taste.

"Well?" May asked, watching her anxiously.

Naruto swallowed with some effort and gave a thumbs up. "Would make a great projectile weapon!" she joked, then laughed.

May burst into laughter. "Is that gourmet praise now?"

"Absolutely! I've seen statues less sturdy than this crust."

Peter joined in the laughter, and Naruto offered him a slice. The boy sniffed it suspiciously before taking a tiny bite.

"Hmm... It's kinda like bread... But also kinda like... crayons?"

May clutched her chest dramatically. "Betrayal! In my own home!"

"Peter's just honest," Naruto said, trying not to laugh. "And honestly, you're brave to keep trying."

May crossed her arms but smiled genuinely. "You know, cooking was always my Achilles' heel. But since you started coming around, I felt like trying again. You have this... warm, encouraging energy about you."

Naruto paused, looking at her. It was strange how such simple words could carry so much weight. She smiled back, unsure how to respond.

"I like being here too. You guys remind me of home, in a way."

May got up to fetch butter and jam to "improve" the bread, while Peter sat next to Naruto, poking at the slice she still held.

"Are you gonna go back someday? To your home?"

Naruto looked at him in surprise. Peter was small, but sometimes asked the biggest questions.

She took a moment before answering, her voice softer when she spoke. "I hope so, Peter. But for now, I'm doing my best here. Taking it one day at a time."

He nodded with that special wisdom children have — the kind that accepts what can't yet be understood. "Then it's our mission to take care of you here."

Naruto laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Mission accepted, Mr. Parker."

May returned from the kitchen with bread slices now bearing more jam than actual bread visible. "Now we're talking! Version 3.1 will win hearts!"

Naruto took another bite and pretended to cry from emotion. "Now it tastes like childhood."

May laughed, Peter laughed, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down. The afternoon continued like this — full of laughter, culinary experiments, and that rare lightness Naruto had learned to cherish in this new world.

And though she didn't know when — or if — she'd ever return home, she felt, at least for now, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Later that night Naruto stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of her dark jacket. Her sharp eyes scanned every detail of the discreet outfit she'd chosen for tonight's operation. This marked the beginning of another demanding, long-term mission — one she couldn't afford to fail. Not now. 

As her departure time approached, she was about to leave when her phone buzzed on the table. Seeing the name on the screen, her shoulders relaxed with a faint smile.  

Tony Stark.

"Look who decided to call," she answered lightly. "Did you forget what you're supposed to do tomorrow and need me to remind you?"  

"Naruto!" Tony exclaimed with the theatrical flair of someone reuniting with a long-lost love. "What a pleasure to hear your voice before I vanish into the unknown! I thought you'd ghost me forever."  

She laughed, shaking her head.  

"And miss your dramatic performances? Not a chance."  

"I'm heading to Afghanistan, you know? Distant lands. Arid climate. Zero Naruto. It's basically divine punishment."  

"You'll be fine," she replied, amused. "Might even discover you can survive without me for a few days."  

"Days? Naruto, you underestimate the depth of my suffering. I'm already going through withdrawal just thinking about it. I need constant stimulation, or my sparkle fades."  

She arched an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of the bed.  

"So you're like a fading star? Need an audience to keep shining?"  

"Exactly! And you're my favorite audience. The only one who challenges me yet still tolerates me. A mystery even science can't explain."  

Naruto laughed again, shoulders shaking slightly.  

"You're ridiculous."  

"I don't deny it. But it's part of my irresistible charm. By the way — will you miss me?"  

"Hmm..." She pretended to consider it. "Maybe. A little. Only if you send me funny updates."  

"Deal. I'll document every terrible coffee, every boring meeting, and every time someone calls me 'genius, billionaire, philanthropist' with stars in their eyes. All for you."  

"How generous, Stark. Can't wait."  

He sighed dramatically.  

"Naruto... If I don't survive this trip, I want you to know you were the highlight of my week."  

"More drama?"  

"Obviously. And if this doesn't move you, nothing will."  

She fell silent for a second, listening to his breathing on the other end. Beneath the jokes, there was genuine affection — something Tony hid more than he showed, but she recognized it.  

"You'll be fine. And I'll be here when you get back," she said, softer now.  

"Promise?"  

"Promise, 'ttebayo."  

"Then I can depart in peace. Though honestly, I still don't get how you function so well without me."  

"I don't function without you, Stark. I endure. There's a difference."  

He barked a laugh, and for a moment, the world felt lighter.  

"Goodnight, Naruto. Will you dream of me?"  

"Only if it's a dream where I get you to shut up for five minutes."  

"Brutal, cruel, and beautiful. See you soon."  

"Safe travels, Tony."  

She hung up and stared at the phone for a long moment. A faint unease settled in her chest — too subtle to name, but sharp enough to give her pause.  

Frowning, she dismissed it as her alarm vibrated, reminding her it was time to go. She took a deep breath, pocketed the phone, and stood with renewed focus.  

She had work to do.  

---  

Kitsune watched little Katty with careful eyes as the girl colored quietly at the table. Their first meeting had gone smoother than expected — Katty was sweet, clever, and a bit shy, but her genuine laughter had won Naruto over instantly.  

Her father, a prominent senator with powerful enemies, had entrusted his daughter’s life to her after receiving relentless threats. The ultimatum was clear: either he changed his vote on a highly controversial bill, or he’d lose what he loved most.  

Naruto had promised nothing would happen to the girl.  

And she never broke her promises.  

---  

The threat materialized early the next morning. Naruto had expected it — her senses were always alert. When the escort car stopped at a seemingly random traffic light, the street fell too quiet.  

She felt it.  

Two men on motorcycles closed in from the sides as a black van blocked the rear.  

Naruto reacted in the same second.  

With a disguised seal on her wristband, she activated an invisible barrier around the vehicle. One biker tried smashing the window but was thrown back by a surge of subtle chakra — like an electric field. The other leapt off his bike to wrench the door open—  

—only to find Kitsune already outside.  

In a blink, the masked kunoichi moved. A kick to the gut, a precise strike to the jaw, and the first man dropped unconscious. When the van’s doors slid open, revealing three armed men, she hurled a smoke pellet and tagged them with paralysis seals. Within seconds, all three were coughing, limbs locked.  

Katty saw none of it. Naruto had soundproofed and isolated the car with seals to shield her.  

Hours later, they tried again — this time with a drone scanning for facial recognition. Kitsune’s mask bore a camouflage seal that erased her digital footprint; the drone spiraled confusedly before crashing three blocks away.  

By nightfall, Naruto was mentally drained.  

Tony Stark had been ambushed in Afghanistan.  

No one knew exactly what happened. He was missing.  

She stared at her phone for a long moment before typing a message to Pepper. Simple. Direct.  

> Naruto: Any news about him, please let me know. Rooting for him.  

She didn’t know if Pepper would reply. Didn’t know if she’d be taken seriously. But she had to try.  

This was Tony. Her friend. Her most unexpected and intense connection in this new world.  

Chōmei, silent until now, murmured:  

"I could go. Fly high, fast. No one would see me."

Naruto smiled sadly.  

"I know. But I won’t risk you too."

She gazed out the hotel window, heart clenched. Every instinct screamed to abandon the mission, to chase after him — to search, fight, roar if needed.  

But Katty was here.  

She’d made a promise.  

And so she made a silent vow instead:  

If Tony didn’t resurface by mission’s end…  

Kitsune would tear the world apart to find him. Even if she had to sift through every damn grain of sand in the desert.  

---  

It had been over a month since Naruto took on this mission, and each day stretched longer and grayer than the last.  

She’d faced wars, monsters, betrayals, and loss. But nothing prepared her for this crushing helplessness. Her body endured, her mind was trained to withstand pressure — but her heart? That ached more with every passing second without answers.  

It was like being dragged into the depths of a dark ocean, where every gasp for air only reminded her of its absence — his absence.  

Tony.

Her friend. Her dramatic idiot. One of the few people in this new world who truly saw her. The one she could let her guard down around. Who cracked stupid jokes when she needed to laugh. Who said the right (or wrong) thing at the perfect moment.  

And now he was gone.  

A full month. No sign. No news.  

Pepper hadn’t replied to her message, and Naruto understood. She did. The woman was likely buried under meetings, statements, and searches. But that didn’t make the silence any less cruel. It cut like a thousand blades.  

That morning, the sky was overcast, as if reflecting her state of mind. The air felt heavy. Her mood was darker than usual.  

Even the Bijuu respected the atmosphere. Kurama stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Not even Chōmei, who’d been trying to distract her lately, dared interrupt her thoughts.  

Then, as if the universe wanted to laugh at her pain — he appeared.  

The Winter Soldier.  

Naruto spotted him first by the shadow he cast in the narrow alley where she’d taken cover. Katty had been whisked to safety by shadow clones. She was alone.  

Her eyes narrowed. She’d recognize that silent prowl anywhere. The metallic glint of his arm reflected the cold morning light.  

He was fast. Calculated. A predator.  

"Not today…" Naruto muttered, voice low and charged.  

When he lunged, she was already moving.  

Their first clash was a collision of forces. His metal fist met her block, and the impact erupted in a shockwave that rattled the alley walls. Naruto skidded back but kept her footing. Her eyes burned — not with pain, but frustration.  

"Normally, I’d enjoy playing with you," she hissed, cracking her neck. "But today? I don’t have time for this."  

The Soldier didn’t respond. He never responded.  

He came at her like a storm — swift, brutal strikes. Naruto dodged, blocked, countered. Concrete cracked under their feet. A kick from her sent him crashing into a metal container, denting it on impact. But he rose like nothing happened.  

She used the walls, flipping around him in a blur. Chakra-laced punches tore through the air. When he grabbed for her ankle, she twisted mid-air and kicked his shoulder with enough force to crumple a car.  

He dropped to one knee — and Naruto saw her opening.  

In a flash, she was on him. As he tried to rise, she slid under his arm and pressed a paralysis seal to his chest.  

The glyph glowed. Instantly, his body locked up.  

He fell like a puppet with cut strings.  

"Enough," she panted.  

But she wasn’t done. Chakra spiraled in her palm, shaping another seal — stasis — that engulfed his paralyzed form, preventing any chance of recovery.  

With steady hands (despite her racing heart), she unsealed a prisoner scroll. One practiced motion later, the Winter Soldier was absorbed into the paper, sealed tight.  

For a moment, she just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the ground. Her pulse roared in her ears.  

Above, the clouds began to part. A single ray of sunlight broke through.  

It brought no comfort.  

She pulled out her phone. No new messages.  

She held it for a long moment, as if it could anchor her. As if, somehow, it still connected her to Tony.  

She wanted to call. To text again. To beg for any update. But she couldn’t.  

Her eyes squeezed shut against the pain threatening to spill over.  

"You better be alive, Stark…" she whispered, barely audible. "Hear me wherever you are. Hold on. Because I’m waiting. And if no one finds you by the time this is over? I swear I’ll come for you myself. Even if I have to cross that damn desert alone, 'ttebayo."

She pocketed the phone.  

And moved forward.  

Because the mission wasn’t over yet.  

But when it was?  

She already knew her next destination.  

---  

Somewhere in a cave forgotten by the world, buried in Afghanistan's hostile mountains, Tony Stark had long since lost track of time.  

The artificial darkness of cold stone walls — lit only by flickering bulbs his captors left burning — made distinguishing days impossible. The routine was repetitive, oppressive. The same tasteless food. The same constant surveillance. The same tension-thick silence.  

But Tony endured.  

Not for pride. Not for his name. Not for the legacy he'd built.  

He endured for the people.  

Rhodey, his brother in all but blood. Pepper, his compass and almost-sister. Happy, ever-loyal.  

And Naruto.  

The thought of her was both thorn and balm. He wondered constantly if she was thinking of him. If she missed him. If she was grieving — or worse, if she believed him already dead.  

Naruto was unpredictable. Fierce. Real. He could see her now in his mind's eye, kicking down doors and threatening generals if necessary. Probably cursing the world for letting him vanish like this. And that hurt more than the wounds in his chest.  

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow with a grimy forearm.  

Pointless thoughts, he knew. But Tony's mind had never known rest. Even injured, imprisoned, under constant threat, it kept spinning — crafting escape plans, theorizing who was behind this. His list of enemies was too damn long.  

Yet it was Naruto who kept surfacing.  

She was like a stubborn echo. The way she looked at him without filters. How she treated him as an equal — or better, as someone who needed grounding when he spiraled. How she laughed at his jokes or mocked his dramatics, only to laugh with him afterward.  

He didn't know when it happened, but she'd become part of what he called home.  

And that's why he had to get out.  

Yinsen watched silently as Tony — muscles trembling with exhaustion — adjusted wires on their makeshift reactor. Pale, hollow-eyed, but with a ferocious determination.  

"You need rest," Yinsen murmured, calm but firm.  

Tony didn't answer immediately. Just secured the last wire and exhaled hard. Then, without looking up, he replied with a tired smirk:  

"I'll rest when I'm home. Drink in hand. With someone yelling at me for not knowing when to quit."  

Yinsen studied him. "Pepper?"  

Tony chuckled hoarsely. "Not this time."  

He returned to work.  

Every tightened screw. Every spark of power. E very blueprint scratched into the cave floor was a silent promise:  

I'm getting out. I'm coming back. And when I do, I'll look her in the eye and tell her how much she mattered in keeping me alive.

All he needed was time.  

And he was hellbent on surviving long enough to make it.  

Chapter Text

Finally, her protection mission was over. After nearly another month of constant attacks and the gnawing anxiety of Tony’s silence, Naruto was ready.  

The bill had passed. Little Katty was safe.  

Now, standing in the senator’s office as he gave a trembling speech of gratitude, Naruto barely registered the words.  

"I don’t even know how to thank you," he said, eyes weary and glistening. "Not just for protecting my daughter — but for treating her with such kindness."  

Naruto gave a slight nod, her gaze steady but gentle.  

"I’d have done the same for any child. But Katty is special."  

The senator smiled ruefully.  

"I know you can’t appear in the papers. No credits, no tributes. But please — know you have my eternal gratitude."  

A shallow bow.  

"Glad I could keep my promise."  

Before he could say more, she turned — and vanished in a shunshin, the air rippling faintly in her wake.  

She didn’t return to her apartment. Everything she needed was sealed in storage scrolls — clothes, supplies, gear. Anything else, she’d acquire en route.  

Thanks to the Hiraishin seals the Bijuu had scattered across the globe during their explorations, Naruto began crossing oceans and continents in leaps. Each jump brought her closer to Tony’s last known location.  

Two days later, she stood in the Afghan desert.  

Now, the real work began: search, track, stay hidden. She couldn’t risk clashing with official search teams — or worse, the captors’ allies who might still lurk in these dunes and caves.  

With Shukaku’s sand control, she scoured every inch of the wasteland. Days bled together — scorching, silent, endless. But she pressed on. Always forward. Always alert.  

Hope flickered stubbornly. Each day, she felt closer.  

Then—  

An explosion shattered the desert’s oppressive silence.  

Naruto froze. Every sense sharpened.  

And then she felt it.  

That familiar presence.  

Tony.

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe.  

Then — movement.  

No hesitation. She ran. Chakra surged through her like lightning. Activating the nearest Hiraishin seal, she tore through space toward the blast’s epicenter.  

Even before the smoke cleared, she knew:  

She’d found him.  

---  

How many days had it been? Tony didn’t know. He’d lost count somewhere between the shocks, the threats, and the endless hours of darkness.  

Sand. Heat. Pain. That’s all there was.  

But now — now there was a chance. A real one.  

He and Yinsen had worked tirelessly, the jeers of their captors a constant backdrop. Even with his body in ruins and the arc reactor burning in his chest, Tony moved.  

Their cobbled-together armor was ugly — a monster of twisted metal and makeshift welds — but it was all they had.  

Then came the chaos.  

Explosions. Screams. Gunfire. Yinsen running down the corridor, drawing them away.  

Tony knew. He knew. And still, he couldn’t stop it.  

By the time the armor whirred to life and he staggered out, it was too late.  

Yinsen was already on the ground.  

Tony’s hands shook. The reactor flickered unevenly. For a moment, he nearly fell.  

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let the sacrifice be wasted.  

He unleashed the flamethrower, raining fire on the stockpile of smuggled Stark weapons. The room became an inferno. He lurched through debris, taking down captors, fighting with everything left.  

Then — something changed.  

Shadows moved with unnatural precision. Bodies flung aside. Weapons ripped from hands.  

A figure emerged through the smoke — dark tactical gear, a mask obscuring her face, eyes hidden.  

Tony froze. Fear screamed: Another enemy?

But she moved with lethal grace, dropping two men with precise strikes and energy projectiles.  

When she finally approached, Tony raised a trembling arm in defense.  

She lifted a hand — steady, calm.  

“I’m here for you.” A woman’s voice, unrecognizable but ironclad. “Let’s get you out.”  

He blinked, dazed, sweat and soot stinging his eyes.  

“You sure?” A tired smirk. “I must look terrible.”  

Her shoulders shook — was that a laugh?

“Worse than expected,” she deadpanned, then softened. “But nothing a shower and three weeks of sleep won’t fix.”  

Something unfamiliar stirred in Tony’s chest. Something he hadn’t felt since the kidnapping.  

Safety.

“Are you alone?” she asked.  

He hesitated. His eyes darted to the corridor. The emptiness.  

“...Yeah.” The word was leaden.  

She didn’t speak, only stepped closer, as if honoring the grief in that single syllable.  

More enemies surged in.  

Tony swayed, armor failing, but she moved first.  

Wall-running. Dodging bullets with inhuman ease. Chakra blades flashing. In minutes, only silence remained.  

She returned, sliding an arm around him as the armor creaked.  

“You’ll pass out if you keep this up.”  

“Don’t usually let strangers carry me on first dates,” he rasped, the joke crumbling mid-sentence.  

“Good thing I’m not a stranger.”  

He stared. “Who are you?”  

A pause. Wind howled through the cave mouth, kicking up sand.  

“A friend. Call me Kitsune.”  

The name echoed in him.  

Then — the seal activated. Energy crackled. The ground trembled.  

In an instant, they were gone.  

Tony collapsed onto desert sand outside, gasping. When he looked up, she’d vanished.  

Just him. The ruined armor. The wasteland. Distant helicopter blades.  

For the first time in months, he smiled.  

“Kitsune…” A whisper to the wind. “Just who the hell are you?”  

---  

From her vantage point in the desert, Naruto watched as the helicopters descended and Tony was lifted to safety. She stood motionless, wrapped in silence and the vastness of the wasteland.  

The warm wind tugged at her dark cloak, scattering grains of sand around her boots, but she barely noticed. Her eyes remained fixed on that small figure being carried away — finally free.  

She'd seen the grief in his eyes. Heard the weight in his voice when he said he was alone. That hesitation. That loss.  

Someone had been left behind.

And Naruto couldn't allow anyone who meant so much to Tony to remain here — forgotten beneath rubble and silence.  

Not even Nagato, who'd caused so much pain, had been denied rest. She remembered his weary eyes, the redemption in his final moments, and knew with certainty: anyone who gave their life for another deserved, at the very least, the same respect.  

With steady steps, she retraced her path through the sand, moving like a shadow back to the cave. Shukaku's power easily cleared the collapsed entrance — even the Bijuu within her was uncharacteristically silent. Respectful.  

The stone walls still bore the scars of explosions — charred black, reeking of gunpowder and blood.  

Her chakra-enhanced senses led her to him.  

A body half-buried in debris, facing toward the cell block — not the exit.  

He hadn't tried to escape. He'd run toward the danger.  

Naruto knelt beside him with reverence.  

Gently, she turned him over. His face was peaceful in death, expression firm even now.  

"You saved his life," she murmured, barely louder than the wind. "Thank you."  

She didn't know his name. His story. But to Tony, he'd mattered.  

A preservation seal glowed as she wrapped his body in stabilizing chakra. Then, with utmost care, she sealed him into a scroll.  

He would have a funeral. A name. A resting place.  

Before leaving, she cast one last look at those tunnels — that place that breathed suffering.  

Her hands formed seals in a fluid, decisive sequence.  

"Fūton: Atsugai..."  

The wind technique tore through the caverns like divine wrath. Walls collapsed. Chambers crumbled to dust. When the sand settled, only ruins remained — buried, as they should be.  

No one would walk these halls again.  

Cloak billowing, Naruto rose. The horizon bled into twilight.  

Now — now she was ready to return to New York. 

Chapter Text

Tony finally touched down in New York. The sky was impossibly clear — the kind of blue that only appeared when something truly terrible had ended. The private jet's ramp lowered slowly, as if the moment were staged for drama. (Tony would love to think even the weather knew how to frame his triumphant return.)  

When he stepped out — rumpled suit, unshaven, looking like he'd wrestled a desert — Pepper was waiting. She looked like she'd slept even less than he had. Or maybe she was just caught between relief and frustration (which, honestly, was her default state with him).  

"Look who decided to show up," she said, arms crossed but eyes glistening.  

"I know. The 'barely survived hell' look works for me, doesn't it? Extra points for rugged charm."  

Pepper didn't reply. She just yanked him into a hug so tight it felt like she was trying to glue all his broken pieces back together.  

"You're an idiot," she whispered into his shoulder.  

"Living idiot, to be clear."  

"You vanish for months and still crack jokes."  

"It's my defense mechanism. Also my natural charm. Helps mask the trauma and dehydration."  

---  

In the car, he chattered like he hadn't spent weeks imprisoned and half-dead:  

"Okay, priorities: cheeseburger, press conference, and a phone. Not necessarily in that order. Maybe cheeseburger first — I'm starving — then the phone because I've got something important to handle. The press thing is just to maintain my reputation for public chaos."  

"You need a hospital, Tony."  

"I'm in a car. It's basically a waiting room with wheels."  

"You need tests. Rest. A therapist. And a shower. Definitely a shower."  

"Now you're just nitpicking. This scent? It's the essence of perseverance."  

He sighed, staring out the window, and murmured:  

"There's someone I really need to tell I'm okay."  

Pepper frowned — then recognition flashed across her face.  

"The message! I never replied! When everything happened, she texted asking about you. And I— I was so focused on finding you, I forgot..."  

Tony took her phone gently.  

"She’d understand. Patience of a monk, that one. Even if she were mad, she’d never say. Just hit me with that disappointed stare... which is way worse."  

He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.  

"Probably busy. Or getting payback for me ghosting her."  

---  

By the time they reached Stark Industries, Tony was already devouring his cheeseburger like it was ambrosia. Then — straight to the press conference.  

Pepper tried to stop him. Really tried. But there he was, on stage, microphone in hand, that chaotic glint in his eyes.  

“I’m shutting down weapons manufacturing at Stark Industries. Effective immediately.”  

Silence. Then — bedlam. A frenzy worthy of a stock market crash.  

Tony just dropped the mic and walked off. Pepper chased after him, baffled, worried, and so, so exhausted.  

“Are you trying to tank the company?!”  

“I’m starting something new. Something that doesn’t involve explosions. At least not the wrong kind.”  

“You’re impossible.”  

“‘Impossible’ is my middle name. Or maybe ‘Chaotic.’ Still workshopping it.”  

In the car, staring out the window, Tony’s expression darkened. Silent, but inside — screaming. Memories tangled together: the desert’s chokehold, Yinsen’s sacrifice, that masked figure materializing through gunfire. It all clung to him like shrapnel.  

Yet through the noise, one thought persisted, quiet but unshakable:  

I need to see her.

When they finally pulled up to his Manhattan penthouse, Tony nearly bowled Happy over getting out.  

“Remind me to give you a raise for driving slow enough to test my patience. Almost achieved enlightenment back there.”  

He took the stairs two at a time, as if speed could outrun the desert’s ghosts. Paused at the door, steadied his breath—  

And there she was.  

---

Naruto — still clad as Kitsune — watched from the shadows as Tony’s car pulled up to his Manhattan home. Her hands hung steady at her sides, but her chest… her chest carried a silent weight. With his return, the final step of this mission stood before her. And she meant to end it with honor.  

When Tony spotted her waiting at his door, hooded and motionless as a sentinel, he paused — then sighed more from exhaustion than surprise.  

"Oh, perfect," he muttered. "Because nothing says ‘welcome back to civilization’ like a dramatic ninja planted on my doorstep. Here to scold me or stab me?"  

She didn’t answer, only inclined her head in acknowledgment. He frowned, fatigue etching his features, then flung the door open with exaggerated flair.  

"Coming in, or just gonna stand there till I die again? Spoiler: no more metal in my chest to save me this time."  

He led her to the living room with slow steps. Weariness clung to his muscles, but his eyes were alive — sharp, searching.  

"You know your whole ‘mysterious shadow’ bit doesn’t work on me, right? Saw you at your desert debut. This is just spy cosplay."  

She stood at the room’s center, still as living darkness. He collapsed onto the couch with that practiced casualness she knew was a lie.  

"So. What’s tonight? More cryptic visits? Or do I get a loyalty card? ‘Save one life, get a free coffee’?"  

"A debt paid." Her voice was low. "I came to finish it."  

Tony arched a brow, but the sarcasm was thin now. She withdrew a scroll from her pouch. He barked a laugh — defensive, brittle.  

"Seriously? A scroll? Like, ancient papyrus? You got a quill and ink hidden too?"  

"It holds the body of the man who died so you could live."  

The words hit like a gut punch. Tony froze. The smirk died on his lips.  

"Excuse me?"  

She extended the scroll.  

"I found him. Near the cell. He wasn’t running. He went back — to buy you time."  

Tony stared at the scroll like it might detonate.  

"Wait… You’re telling me that—" A jerky chin nod. "—has Yinsen’s body? In paper? Literally?"  

A nod. He laughed — short, humorless.  

"Of course it does. Because life wasn’t surreal enough. Terrorists, miracle escape, now a ninja with pocket-sized corpse compression. Cool. Real cool."  

"I didn’t know his name. Only that he didn’t belong with the rubble — with those who caused pain."  

Tony dragged a hand down his face. His fingers shook.  

"You know how insane this sounds? I hallucinated for days — stuff with better plot than this."  

"I know. But it’s real. Tear it to release him."  

He handled the scroll like it burned. Didn’t drop it.  

"This is torture. You drop this on me and expect what? That I just — rip it, and suddenly he’s there? The guy who saved me? You’ve got no idea what this means."  

Silence. Then, softly:  

"I expect nothing. Only thought it was right."  

Tony exhaled sharp through his nose. Stood. Got in her space, eyes red-rimmed and raw.  

"I’ve lost people before, okay? I learned not to care. To joke. To hide behind expensive scotch. But him? He believed I could still do something with this damn life."  

A glance at the scroll. His voice dropped to a whisper.  

"And now you hand me this. Like it’s easy. Like it’s just… tearing paper."  

She stepped back, shadows reclaiming her face.  

"It’s all I could do for him. The rest is yours."  

He stared. Eyes wet, pride fighting posture.  

"You pulled me out of that hellhole. I knew. Even masked — I knew. You’re not like the rest…"  

He shook his head, trailing off. Smiled — that sad, hollow smile meant to mask pain.  

"Thanks, Kitsune. Really."  

One final nod.  

Then she was gone — swallowed by the night.  

Tony stood alone, scroll in hand, heart laid bare. He studied it. Pressed it to his chest. Closed his eyes.  

The room’s silence weighed as heavy as Yinsen’s memory. But now—  

Now he could do something with it.  

Even if he didn’t know how yet.  

---  

Hours had passed. The sky outside had darkened, but Tony remained in the living room. Whiskey swirled untouched in the crystal glass between his fingers. The scroll now rested on the coffee table — a silent, weighty presence. Unremarkable at first glance, yet more imposing than any piece of technology he'd ever created.  

He couldn't look away.  

The sound of the door unlocking broke his trance. Firm, hurried footsteps echoed across the floor. He didn't turn. Just waited.  

"Tony?" Pepper's voice cut through the air, laced with urgency. "We came as soon as we got your message."  

Rhodes appeared beside her, studying his friend with a frown.  

"Man, you look worse now than when we pulled you out of the desert."  

Tony exhaled a quiet, sardonic breath, eyes still fixed on the scroll.  

"Funny. I thought the 'burnt orange' aesthetic brought out my eyes. But sure, thanks for the feedback."  

Pepper approached slowly, her gaze darting between Tony and the object on the table.  

"What happened? Why the urgent call?"  

Tony finally looked up at them — eyes red-rimmed not from tears, but from sleepless nights and poorly contained pain.  

"Because I needed to see you. And to tell you before I chickened out."  

Rhodes stepped closer, demeanor shifting.  

"Tell us what?"  

Tony inhaled slowly, as if bracing for deep water.  

"When I was in that cave..." He paused, the words costing him. "There was a man. A scientist. A prisoner like me. Yinsen. Without him, I'd have died in the first week. He kept the reactor running. Kept me sane. Reminded me I was still human."  

Pepper sat silently on the sofa's edge. Rhodes bowed his head.  

Tony continued.  

"When it was time to escape... he stayed. Said it was the end of his road. That his life wouldn't matter unless he bought me a second chance." His voice frayed at the edges, sarcasm a thin shield. "He died for me."  

"And today, when I got back... she was here."  

"She who?" Pepper asked.  

"The woman who pulled me out. The masked one with all the answers that explain nothing." Tony gestured to the scroll. "Said she was settling a debt. Then gave me this."  

Rhodes arched a brow. "Which is...?"  

"According to her? Yinsen's body. And all I have to do to 'free him' is tear this thing open."  

The silence that followed was absolute. Even Pepper hesitated.  

"You believe that?"  

Tony's smile was bitter.  

"I don't know. But she had no reason to lie. And the way she said it... the way she looked at me..." He shook his head. "Wasn't a bluff. Wasn't even regret. Like she was handing me something that weighed on her too."  

"Did she give you a name?" Rhodes pressed.  

"Told me to call her Kitsune."  

Rhodes' expression shuttered. His shoulders tensed.  

"You know that name," Tony observed.  

James crossed his arms, voice lowering.  

"Intel circles. Mercenary — or that's what files claim. Name pops up, but no one confirms anything. A ghost. Only appears when she wants. No one knows her motives. But every report agrees: she never takes a job she doesn't believe in. And she never fails."  

Pepper's gaze flicked to Tony, tense.  

"Doesn't that worry you? She could be a threat."  

Tony almost laughed.  

"If she wanted me dead, Pep? Would've been stylish about it. Probably left no mess." He tapped the scroll. "No. She had every chance. And in the end... she saved me."  

Rhodes studied the scroll, thoughtful.  

"I think it's real. She's got a code. Weird, but solid. If she says Yinsen's in there... maybe he is."  

Pepper turned to Tony, gentle.  

"What will you do with it?"  

No immediate answer. He stared at the scroll like it might reveal secrets. Then, softly:  

"I'll handle it right. Just... not yet."  

"When?" Rhodes asked.  

Tony rotated his glass.  

"When I can look at it without feeling trapped in that cave again."  

Pepper squeezed his hand. "We'll be here when you're ready."  

Tony said nothing. But beneath the pain in his eyes lay something rarer: resolve. And, perhaps, the faintest glimmer of gratitude.  

One last look at the scroll. Then — for the first time that night — he set the drink down.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Tony woke with his mind still tangled in yesterday's fragments. More centered, yes. More emotionally sober. But a weight remained — a mix of gratitude, longing, and confusion that tightened his chest whenever he closed his eyes and saw her face.  

He picked up his phone with hesitant fingers, as if the mere touch carried life-or-death stakes. Scrolled to the discreetly saved number — a secret even he didn’t fully understand.  

Hesitated.  

"Come on, Stark. You faced terrorists. This is just a beautiful, terrifying woman."

He hit call.  

The first ring was agony. The second nearly stopped his heart. By the third, he almost hung up—  

"Hello?"

Her voice, soft, sleep-rough, anchored him. His throat tightened.  

"It’s me," he said simply — no sarcasm, no shield.  

"Tony..."

His name in her mouth sounded different. Precious.  

No jokes. Not now. For the first time in years, he didn’t want to hide.  

"I need to see you."  

Silence. His stomach lurched. Too much? Too soon?

Then—  

"Me too."

A tremor in her voice. Something she tried to mask, but he recognized it — because it mirrored his own.  

---  

The Brooklyn café was small, charming, discreet. A refuge Tony had kept off the radar for years. He’d convinced the owner to close for the morning with a persuasive smile and a generous deposit.  

He arrived early. Fidgeted with napkins, adjusted his chair, checked his watch — anything to distract from the nerves buzzing under his skin.  

"Stark, you literally rented out a café to psych yourself up..."

Then the doorbell chimed, and the world narrowed.  

Naruto stepped inside, calm but with fire in her eyes. When their gazes met, his breath caught.  

He stood — but before he could speak, she crossed the room and hugged him. Tight.  

"Oof—!" He wheezed, startled. "Are you made of muscle and bad decisions?"

She jerked back, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?"

Tony laughed, smoothing his crumpled jacket.  

"Just my pride. But I’ll forgive you... for the right price."  

A skeptical brow. "Which is?"

That mischievous grin. "A kiss. Purely for emotional balance, obviously. Nothing serious."

She studied him, weighing his sincerity — then, unexpectedly, rose onto her toes and pressed a light, warm kiss to his cheek.  

Tony froze. Not at the gesture, but at what it did to him. This was real. No game. No conquest. Just her. Present. Gentle. True.  

"Wow," he murmured, fingertips brushing the spot. "Can I amend my request to two?"

Naruto laughed — bright, unguarded, disarming in its sincerity.  

"You’re impossible." Fondness danced in her eyes.  

"And you’re unpredictable. Completely off my comprehension curve." He pulled out her chair with a flourish, still smiling. "And honestly? I’ve never liked anything more."

She sat with a quiet thanks, and for a moment, they just were. An empty café. A comfortable silence. Two people from different worlds, trying to understand what lay between them.  

---  

After minutes of light banter, silence settled over the table — not uncomfortable, but the kind that exists between two people who understand each other beyond words.  

Naruto studied Tony, her blue eyes soft yet intense, and asked in a quiet, earnest tone:  

"Tony... are you really okay?"  

He'd been asked that countless times since his rescue. By Pepper. Rhodey. Doctors. Always with clinical concern. But Naruto's question was different. Maybe it was the slight hesitation in her voice, or how her eyes shone with a care so genuine it almost hurt — whatever it was, it disarmed him completely.  

For the first time in years, he didn't want to lie.  

"No," he admitted, voice raw. "I'm not."  

She didn't offer empty platitudes. Just reached across the table and gripped his hands — a simple gesture that anchored him.  

"I don't sleep," he confessed. "Close my eyes, and I'm back there. Damp walls. Pain in my chest. My own heartbeat echoing in the dark." A humorless smirk. "Maybe this is all an elaborate hallucination. Dying-brain mirage with gourmet coffee and cheek kisses."  

Naruto's lips quirked, but her gaze remained steady.  

"What scared me most wasn't dying," he continued, voice cracking. "It was never seeing anyone again. The people who... matter. No goodbyes. No chance to say what I should've."  

His eyes flickered away briefly, as if hiding even now.  

"I promised myself— if I got out, I'd stop postponing the important stuff. Be honest. Even if it wrecked me."  

Naruto frowned slightly, unsure where this was headed.  

Tony tightened his grip on her hands, meeting her eyes with devastating sincerity.  

"I thought about you. The whole time."  

She blinked, stunned.  

"Tony—"  

"Couldn't help it. Between calculations and pain, between fear and silence... it was you. Remembering your smiles. Our talks. Those random cafés you dragged me to." His laugh was thick. "Kept me awake. Kept me going. I'd tell myself: 'One more day, Stark. One more, and you'll see her again.'"

Naruto was motionless, breath caught, words failing her.  

"I'm not saying this to guilt you," he rushed to clarify, vulnerability bleeding through. "No pressure, no expectations. This—" He lifted their joined hands. "—isn't a demand. Just... truth you deserved to know."  

"Tony..." Her whisper was barely audible.  

He smiled crookedly — that I'm-fine facade she saw right through.  

"That's it. Just needed to get it out. Literally."  

A shaky laugh escaped her, eyes glistening as she looked down. Her fingers still held his — lighter now, but firm enough to say:  

I'm here.

---  

Tony still held her hands gently when Naruto finally spoke after a weighted silence. Her voice was soft but steady, each word carefully measured yet impossible to contain.  

"I wasn't okay either." Her gaze met his with raw honesty. "Since you disappeared... I barely slept."  

Tony swallowed hard. Her words pierced him differently than anything else he'd heard since returning.  

"I thought about you constantly. Wondered where you were. If you were hurt. If you were even..." Her voice caught. "Safe. It drove me mad."  

She looked down briefly, as if the memory of those uncertain days still cut deep.  

"I understood when I got no reply," she continued, voice tinged with quiet sorrow. "But I kept searching. Every news report. Every rumor. I needed to try — even knowing I'd probably find nothing."  

Tony listened, utterly still, an unfamiliar ache blooming in his chest.  

"And I kept replaying our last call before everything happened. Your jokes. Your voice. Even the silences." Her eyes found his again, shimmering with emotions too vast for words.  

"You make me feel something I can't explain. It's... new. Intense. And it terrifies me— because I don't know what to do with it."  

Tony's breath stalled. If anyone could understand that feeling, it was him. Amidst the chaos of his life, she'd become an anchor. A fixed point.  

"I feel the same," he said quietly, without hesitation. "And trust me— I'm terrible at handling things I don't understand. But this? This is real. And if you're willing... we can figure it out together."  

Naruto grew still. Her eyes lowered momentarily, as if listening to distant thoughts. Then— a slow exhale. A small, genuine smile.  

"I want that." Soft but certain. "Let's try."  

Tony blinked, as if needing to confirm he'd heard correctly. Then a smile spread across his face— not his usual smirk, but something simpler. Truer. Relieved.  

"Then it's official. Fair warning: Pepper and Rhodey will interrogate you mercilessly."  

Naruto laughed, the tension between them dissolving into lightness.  

"I can handle it. I've faced worse..."  

"Good to know," Tony teased, though his eyes remained tender. "Because honestly? I was terrified you'd say this was all in my head."  

Her gaze softened. "It wasn't."  

And in that moment — between shared smiles and the warmth of their clasped hands — they knew something new had begun. Uncertain, perhaps. But real.  

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Naruto stood, adjusting her jacket with a lingering smile. Tony rose just as quickly — a sudden urgency in his movements.  

"Wait," he said, stepping closer. His gaze held hers with a mix of affection and barely contained anticipation. "I've gotta head back to Malibu tonight. Some fires to put out — inventories, boardroom nonsense, the usual chaos."  

She nodded. "Of course. You've got a mountain of things to handle."  

Tony tilted his head with that half-smirk she'd come to know.  

"But..." He leaned in slightly, eyes alight with mischief. "I want to take you to dinner Saturday. Just us. Low lights, decent food, wine, meaningless chatter." A pause. "Unless you'd rather come to Malibu now. The view's killer, and I promise not to try seducing you until day two."  

Naruto laughed—a real, head-tilted-back laugh — before fixing him with a playful squint.  

"Tempting, Stark. Very tempting. But I'll pass... for now."  

Tony clutched his chest in mock offense.  

"'For now'? That's practically a yes."  

"Maybe. But for now," she softened, "I'll stay here. And look forward to Saturday."  

"Oh, it'll be memorable," he promised, voice dropping to something warmer.  

Before leaving, Naruto rose onto her toes again — this time letting her lips linger against his cheek a heartbeat longer. Intentional.  

Tony froze. Wide-eyed, fingers brushing the spot where she'd kissed him as she pulled away.  

With a final smile, she was gone — leaving only warmth and promise in her wake.  

---  

Tony descended the jet stairs with an uncharacteristically light step — a rarity since his return from captivity. In the private terminal, Pepper waited, leaning against a column with crossed arms and a knowing smile.  

"You look... lighter," she observed, studying his face.  

Tony exhaled through a half-smile. "Yeah. Maybe I am."  

"Would this have anything to do with that mysterious Brooklyn café rendezvous?"  

He arched a brow. "You know everything, don’t you?"  

"It’s my job," she said, smug.  

Tony nodded slowly, hesitating for a beat before cutting to the chase:  

"I saw Naruto. We talked. About... stuff. Important stuff."  

Pepper’s expression softened. "And?"  

"And it was good." A quiet brightness in his eyes. "Better than I thought possible, all things considered."  

She watched him a moment before smiling properly — the kind she reserved only for genuine happiness on his behalf.  

"I’m glad for you, Tony. Truly."  

"But—" he prompted, anticipating her.  

"But," Pepper confirmed, "I’ll need to meet her myself before issuing final approval."  

Tony chuckled. "Fair. Though good luck not liking her. You two have more in common than you’d think." A pause. "Honestly? You’ll adore her."  

Pepper’s skeptical brow arched higher.  

"That’s what every smitten man says."  

"Possible," Tony conceded with an easy shrug. "But I’d still bet you’ll be inviting her for wine within five minutes."  

Pepper laughed, shaking her head as they walked toward the car. "We’ll see, Stark. We’ll see."  

And for the first time since Afghanistan — Tony found the world just a little easier to breathe in.  

---  

Naruto walked through Queens with her hands in her coat pockets, her heart light. The warmth of Tony’s touch still lingered on her fingers, and a giddy smile refused to leave her face. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice how dreamily she was floating until a familiar voice snapped her back to earth.  

"Someone’s had a good day," May Parker teased, arms crossed and brow arched.  

Naruto blinked, stopping mid-step. "Huh?"  

May chuckled, nodding at her. "You. Walking around smiling like you’re in a romantic drama. No use hiding it — I see you."  

Naruto’s face flushed instantly, and she looked away with a nervous laugh.  

"That obvious?"  

"I’m observant," May said warmly. "And you’re glowing. So either you won the lottery, or it’s a heart thing."  

A soft, embarrassed laugh. "Maybe a little of the second."  

May’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I’ve got time before Peter gets home. Spill."  

Naruto hesitated, biting her lip. But there was something about May’s kindness — the way she truly cared — that made trust effortless.  

"Okay… Come over. I’ll tell you everything."  

---  

The apartment was cozy, bathed in soft light and a gentle breeze from the cracked window. May settled on the couch while Naruto brewed tea. When she returned, she handed May a cup with a shy smile before curling up opposite her.  

"Alright," May said, cradling her tea. "Start from the beginning. No skimming."  

Naruto inhaled deeply, as if steadying herself.  

"I met him a while ago. Pure chance — one of those weird coincidences life throws at you. We talked, and I thought that’d be it… But it wasn’t."  

A pause. A private smile.  

"We started seeing each other more. Nothing romantic at first. Just company. Cafés, walks, random texts. He always had something funny to say or a wild idea to shake up my routine."  

May listened, attentive.  

"Slowly, he became… constant. Even when he was away, he’d check in. Cared. And I realized I cared too. That he’d become one of those quiet presences you miss when they’re gone."  

Her fingers traced the rim of her cup.  

"Today, we talked for real. About heavy things. He was honest — about his fears, what he’s been through. So was I. And we decided… to try. See where this goes."  

May’s silence wasn’t judgmental — just deeply present. Finally, softly:  

"Who is he? Do I know him?"  

Naruto hesitated, then answered calmly:  

"Tony. Tony Stark."  

May’s eyes widened. "Tony Stark?"

A slow nod. "I know how it sounds. But it’s not what you think."  

"Naruto, his reputation—"  

"I know," Naruto said gently. "I’ve read it all. But the Tony I know isn’t the tabloid version. He’s human. He messes up, but he tries. And today… he was real with me. I saw it."  

May studied her, expression softening at Naruto’s sincerity.  

"You’re strong. I’ve never doubted that. But—" She leaned forward, tender yet firm. "—a broken heart hurts worse than any battle. And no one’s immune."  

Naruto’s chest tightened. She knew that pain. But this… this felt different.  

"I know. That’s why I’m taking it slow. But with him… it feels worth it."  

May smiled — that special blend of affection, worry, and pride.  

"Then try. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And if he screws up?" A playful glint. "You call me."  

Naruto laughed, warmth blooming in her chest.  

"Promise."  

---  

Still laughing from their earlier conversation, May rose from the couch and set her empty teacup down.  

"Since we're in a romantic confession mood, you're coming over for dinner tonight. Peter will be thrilled to see you." A mischievous grin. "And someone needs to give me details about this Saturday date."  

Naruto blinked at the sudden invitation, then relaxed into a smile.  

"Sure, why not? I've missed Peter."  

"He's drowning in homework and will definitely complain you haven't played video games with him lately," May said, grabbing her purse. "And... well, it'll be fun watching his face when I mention you're dating someone."  

Naruto choked on air.  

"May! Go easy on him!"  

"Me? Never." An innocent blink.  

---  

Peter arrived shortly after, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair wind-tousled.  

"I'm starving!" he called from the hallway. "Oh! Hi, Naruto!"  

"Hey, Peter!" Naruto grinned. "Good to see you, 'ttebayo!"  

Peter beamed — then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at their animated chatter.  

"What are you two whispering about?"  

May served dinner casually. "Just that Naruto has a date this Saturday."  

Peter froze mid-bite, gaping between them like she'd announced a moon landing.  

"What?! You're going out with someone? Who?"  

Naruto rubbed her neck awkwardly. "A friend. We've known each other a while."  

May delivered the kill shot: "His name's Tony."  

Peter made a face. "Tony? Like, a grown-up man?"  

"He's a bit older," Naruto admitted. "But really kind."  

Peter scrunched his nose, arms crossed in full pout. "I don't like this Tony guy."  

"You haven't even met him," May said, fighting laughter.  

"But he's taking Naruto!" Peter protested, as if this were a grave injustice. "What if he's boring? What if he doesn't know Ninja Card Battle? What if he won't let you eat dessert first?!"  

Naruto laughed, touched by his dramatic concern.  

"I promise he's not boring, and we'll still game together. Nothing changes between us, okay?"  

Peter sulked for precisely three seconds before sighing theatrically.  

"Fine. But if he makes you cry, I'm giving him a super lecture."  

May lost it, shaking with laughter. "Peter Parker, defender of Aunt May's friends."  

Peter lifted his chin proudly. "Someone's gotta protect Naruto!"  

Naruto's heart swelled. "Thanks, Peter. You're the best."  

And with that, dinner continued — light, loud, and full of laughter. Between bites and playful teasing, Naruto felt something rare:  

She was home.  

Chapter Text

The car rolled smoothly up the mansion's driveway. The fading sunlight painted the house in gold and amber, glinting off the floor-to-ceiling windows Tony once found sleek — now strangely hollow.  

He didn't have to walk far before spotting the rigid silhouette waiting on the deck. Obadiah Stane. Arms crossed. Jaw set. That particular silence heavy with judgment.  

Tony removed his sunglasses slowly, eyes still sensitive to natural light. A half-smile tugged at his lips, masking the weight in his chest.  

"Wow, Stane. Such warmth. All we're missing is a 'Welcome Home' banner and some balloons."  

Nothing.  

Not even a twitch. Tony's smile faltered.  

"Or are you mad I didn't bring you a 'World's Best Interim CEO' mug?"  

Obadiah didn't laugh. His expression screamed end of patience. Tony swallowed hard, the air thickening.  

"We need to talk." Stane's tone left no room for debate.  

Tony exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.  

"Sure. Nothing like a corporate lecture to warm the soul right off the jet." He gestured inside. "Ice in your scotch, or did you prep a sober, soulless monologue?"  

"Tony. This is serious."  

The mansion was exactly as he'd left it: cold, pristine, impersonal. Like he'd never been gone. Tony moved to the bar. Poured whiskey with mechanical precision — but his hands trembled slightly.  

"You shut down Stark Industries' weapons division." Stane cut straight to it. "Alone. No board vote. Not even a heads-up to me."  

Tony took a measured sip, letting the burn anchor him.  

"And I'd do it again."  

"You're gambling with this company's future!" Stane's voice cracked with frustration.  

Tony turned slowly. His eyes held none of their usual levity — just steel and shadow.  

"I'm not gambling, Obie. That's the point."  

Silence.  

"I've seen what our weapons do. Not in testing ranges. Not on sales charts. Out there." A brittle pause. "I've seen children terrified. Men blown apart. And my name on every shell casing."  

"Tony, you've been through trauma—"  

"You don't understand!" Tony's voice broke. "You weren't locked up for months. Forced to build death machines knowing every bolt you tightened cost lives. I was there."  

Obadiah stilled. Whatever argument he'd prepared died unspoken.  

Tony looked down, white-knuckling his glass.  

"I came back. But I'm not the man who boarded that plane. And I won't pretend to be."  

"So what's next? Selling toys? Donating billions to charity?" Stane's sarcasm was a weak counterstrike. "Stark Industries thrives because we do what others can't. You've always known that."  

Tony gazed through the windows. The ocean outside was deceptively calm.  

"I'll find another way. A new purpose." Quiet conviction. "For the first time in my life... I want to change."  

Stane studied him like a stranger. The arrogant genius he'd known was slipping through his fingers.  

"You're turning your back on everything we built."  

Tony met his gaze head-on.  

"Maybe I'm just starting to build something better."  

Obadiah inhaled sharply, shoulders rigid. No retort came. Just heavy footsteps fading away.  

Tony stood motionless. Downed the rest of his drink in one go. Set the glass down too hard.  

The emptiness returned — but not the same as before.  

Something new lingered.  

A fragile, stubborn hope.  

And beneath it all, cutting through the weight of past and present:  

The memory of a blonde girl with ocean-blue eyes who'd held his hand — and listened.  

---

The mansion's silence was almost comforting — just the distant murmur of waves and the steady hum of underground systems. The workshop bathed in blue holographic light, shadows dancing across walls as Tony moved slowly through the space, cold coffee forgotten in one hand.  

Before him, the crude cave armor hovered in midair.  

"JARVIS," he began, voice rough, "pull full specs on the cave suit. Let's strip it down, start fresh."  

"Of course, sir. Initiating full render. Shall I name the new project?"  

Tony studied the floating components. Strange how something so ugly could have been his salvation.  

"Mark II." A beat. "And let's make her beautiful."  

"'Beautiful' is a rather subjective technical parameter, sir."  

The ghost of a smile touched Tony's lips as he dropped into his chair. But his mind was elsewhere.  

He dragged a hand through his hair.  

She kissed his cheek.

That brief, unexpected touch still burned where her lips had been. Just a simple gesture — nothing major, right?  

Wrong. Completely wrong. Because that kiss — that tiny moment — felt more real than anything he'd experienced in months.  

"JARVIS," he said abruptly, "remind me why I avoid getting involved with people again?"  

"Your stated rationale: 'People are complicated, needy, and usually disappoint.' I have seven variations on file, sir."  

Tony scoffed.  

"And yet here I am, mooning over her like a teenager after his first date."  

"Technically not a date, sir."  

"Not helping, JARVIS." Tony spun his chair away, staring at the ceiling. "She's different."  

Silence.  

"She listens, JARVIS. Not to Stark Industries. Not to the genius inventor. To me. And I think—" A rare hesitation. "—I think she cares. No filters. No games. That scares me more than missiles pointed at my head."  

"So you're frightened of... empathy?"  

"Put like that, it sounds ridiculous."  

"Ridiculous is among your core competencies, sir."  

A tired chuckle. Tony rose, moving toward the test gauntlets.  

"Let's work. I'm not spending all night thinking about how her eyes light up when she smiles. Or how she bites her lip when nervous. Or—" He strapped on the braces. "—how she holds my hand like it matters."  

Even JARVIS seemed to respect the weight of that admission.  

"Test protocols. Keep thrusters at 15%."  

"Sir, last time at this setting, you embedded yourself in the wall. Might I suggest a helmet?"  

"If I'm gonna faceplant, let it be for something worthwhile."  

The gauntlets hummed to life. Tony hovered inches off the ground, staring blankly ahead.  

"I want to try with you."

Naruto's words echoed — quiet, tentative, but brimming with courage.  

He landed firmly, removing the braces with a long exhale.  

"I really need that Saturday dinner to go well."  

"Shall I make reservations, sir?"  

"No. I'll pick the place myself. Has to be perfect. She deserves that. Maybe... so do I."  

A processing pause. "Very good, sir."  

Tony studied the armor schematics. Fear and pain still lingered — but now, something new pulsed alongside them.  

Hope.  

And for once, he didn't want to run from it.  

"Let's build something better, JARVIS. Starting with me."  

Chapter Text

Naruto was halfway through tying her hair into a messy bun when rapid-fire knocking startled her. She opened the door to find May Parker standing there — jeans, sneakers, and a determined glint in her eyes.  

"Grab your shoes, Uzumaki. Mission today."  

Naruto crossed her arms. "Mission? May, I just got home. I was planning to either sleep or become one with the couch."  

"Nope. You're coming with me." May breezed past her, snatching Naruto's bag off the sofa. "You've got a date in two days, remember?"  

Naruto trailed after her, suspicious. "I remember. But I'm not jumping out of a helicopter. It's just dinner, May."  

May spun around with a scheming smile. "'Just dinner'? Sweetheart, you're going out with Tony Stark. The Tony Stark." She wagged a finger. "He may be all charm and gadgets, but you? You're special. He needs to remember how lucky he is you said yes — starting with an outfit that screams exactly that."  

Naruto's eyes widened in horror. "You're dragging me clothes shopping."  

"You own exactly three types of clothing: functional, comfortable, and—"  

"—perfectly adequate for a date!"  

"—boring." May took Naruto's hand, pulling her toward the door. "Today, you're picking something that makes you feel gorgeous. Not for him — for you. Though if he drools a little, bonus points."  

Naruto laughed, surrendering as May led her down the hallway. "This is torture. By what authority?"  

"The authority of someone who's had her heart broken," May said gently, "and knows how important it is to make the other person see what's right in front of them." A sidelong glance. "You like him. I know. And it's okay to show that. But it's also good to remind him you're not there out of loneliness. You're a gift. And he'd better recognize it."  

Naruto bit her lip, touched. May had always been warm, but there was a gentle firmness to her — like a mother or a stubborn older sister.  

"Fine, fine. But if you make me try on more than five dresses, I'm jumping out the store window."  

May's laugh echoed down the stairwell. "Try it. I'm faster than I look."  

"Is that a challenge?"  

"Call it what you want."  

Laughing, they crossed the neighborhood — steps light, teasing affectionate. Naruto still didn't know what she'd choose to wear.  

But maybe, just maybe, she wanted to impress.  

Not because she had to.  

But because for the first time, showing her real self — to herself, and perhaps to him — felt worth it.  

---

The workshop lay bathed in quiet darkness, illuminated only by holographic displays and the occasional flare of robotic arms adjusting the Mark II armor. Polished metal reflected the cool blue glow as if the suit itself was waiting patiently for its first dance with the sky.  

Tony hunched over the leg assembly, soldering the final thruster circuits. His expression was intense — not tired, but wholly focused, jaw clenched, eyes unblinking. Each crackle of the soldering iron echoed like a heartbeat.  

"JARVIS, flight stabilizer integrity report."  

"Thirty-eight percent chance of failure during abrupt maneuvers, sir. Might I suggest caution? Or perhaps a parachute."  

Tony set the iron aside with a sigh, studying the suit. It was beautiful in its raw, unfinished way. Almost ready. So close.  

"Parachutes," he muttered, more to himself than the AI, "would imply I don't know what I'm doing. And this suit's ego is fragile enough as it is."  

"A compelling argument, as always, sir."  

A brief smirk flickered across Tony's face before fading. A thought slipped through his defenses — unbidden, unwelcome. He stared past the armor into middle distance.  

What would she think of all this?

Naruto.  

Her image came sharp and sudden, as if she were perched on the workbench right now — legs swinging, either laughing at his recklessness or scolding him for it. Unpredictable. Maybe that's why she kept invading his thoughts.  

She'd probably call this insane.  

"D'you think she'd run if she saw this?" he asked rhetorically.  

"Given you're minutes away from strapping into an untested metal suit with unstable thrusters, sir, running would be a perfectly rational response."  

Tony's smile widened briefly as he wiped his hands on a grease-stained towel.  

"Or she'd call it 'stupid but brave.' Or brave but stupid. Or maybe 'reckless with a pretty face.'"  

"Even with full access to Miss Uzumaki's lexicon, sir, I wouldn't presume to speculate about facial compliments."  

A quiet chuckle escaped Tony, but the mirth didn't last. The weight of it all pressed down — past mistakes, present responsibilities, this fragile attempt at redemption.  

He studied the armor.  

"I need this to work, JARVIS. Not just for me or the company. I... I don't want to be part of the problem anymore."  

"Understood, sir. As a reminder, your dinner with Miss Uzumaki is scheduled in two days. Seven PM. Manhattan."  

Tony stilled. The world seemed to pause.  

Two days.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks, JARVIS."  

"Not that I assume you'll attend in armor, but one never knows."  

Tony arched a brow, the old smirk resurfacing.  

"Never underestimate the power of good metalwear, J."  

---

Clad in the Mark II armor, Tony moved deliberately toward the makeshift launch pad in the Malibu garden. Sensors blinked. Joints whirred with each step.  

He was nervous. But it was the good kind — that stomach-dropping thrill of being truly alive.  

"JARVIS, thruster status?"  

"Online. Initiating Level 1 flight protocol. Recommend maintaining altitude below five meters, sir."  

"No promises."  

He bent his knees — and pushed.  

It was like being catapulted in slow motion. For one weightless second, he hovered. Gravity itself seemed to hesitate.  

"I'm flying," he laughed, breathless. "Would you look at that — I'm flying!"  

"Hovering, sir. Flight implies direction and control."  

"Such a buzzkill, J. Let me have this."  

She'd never believe this. Or maybe she'd believe it too easily.

The thought flashed through him — her sitting cross-legged on the grass, watching with that mix of curiosity and concern. He wanted her to see this. Wanted to dazzle her.  

Tony cranked the power. "Take me higher, big guy."  

The suit surged. Too fast. Alarms blared.  

"JARVIS?!"  

"Ice accumulation detected. Suit integrity failing. Thrust loss in 3... 2..."  

"NO NO NO—"  

Silence.  

Then— falling.  

Tony flailed, instincts screaming for control that didn't exist. The ground rushed up.  

Damn it, Naruto's gonna kill me if I die before our date.

At the last second, emergency thrusters fired, cushioning the impact with a bone-rattling thud. He tumbled across the lawn, finally coming to rest on his back, gasping.  

Silence.  

Then— laughter. Wild, unfiltered.  

"I am... a complete... idiot."  

"Agreed. But an idiot with remarkable survival instincts, sir."  

Tony grinned up at the stars, chest heaving.  

"Two days... Just two days. Better get this tin can working. Or I'll show up to dinner with grass stains on my face."  

"Might I suggest formalwear as a backup, sir?"  

"I'm thinking black-tie armor. Innovative. Sexy."  

"Undoubtedly, sir."  

Tony stayed there — sprawled on the Malibu grass, staring at the sky. Feeling it all: the weight, the fear, the hope. And an unexpected warmth in his chest when he thought of her.  

Chapter Text

The car's engine hummed softly, muffled by the tense silence inside. Tony adjusted his cufflinks for the third time in ten minutes, his leg bouncing with poorly concealed anxiety.  

"It's just dinner," he muttered, as if convincing himself. "Normal dinner. With a beautiful, extraordinary woman. No big deal."  

Happy, eyes on the road, shot him a glance.  

"If you're trying to act calm, you're failing spectacularly."  

Tony huffed, crossing and uncrossing his arms.  

"Do I look nervous?"  

"You're acting like it's a job interview. And you're talking too much."  

"That's offensive. I ace interviews." Tony fiddled with his collar again. "And I'm not talking. I'm vocalizing my thought process."  

"Sure."  

Tony stared out the window, desperate to focus on anything but the knot in his stomach. He'd faced hostile shareholders, bloodthirsty reporters, generals demanding answers — none of which made his palms sweat like this.  

"She's gonna look stunning, isn't she?" More to the air than to Happy.  

"Probably."  

"Not helping." Tony thumped his head against the seat. "I'm not good at this. Normal stuff. Waiting. Taking it slow. Doing things right."  

"Then try. Tonight's as good a night as any."  

Tony blinked at the unexpected wisdom.  

"Profound. Writing that down."  

---  

The car stopped. Tony stepped out with measured calm, hands in pockets, practiced smile in place — though his pulse betrayed him.  

He rang the bell.  

The door opened to reveal a woman who was decidedly not Naruto.  

"Good evening," she said, sharp eyes appraising him. "You must be Tony."  

He recovered quickly, smirk ready.  

"And you must be security. I heard there'd be tests, but..." A glance around. "No lie detector?"  

May crossed her arms, unmoved.  

"I'm May. Naruto's told me about you."  

"Great, so you're pre-briefed." Tony kept his tone light. "Saves us the awkward phase where I pretend to be nicer than I am."  

"Let's be clear." May's gaze hardened. "Naruto's special. Not someone you play with."  

Tony held her stare. For the first time in years, he felt truly seen — not as Stark Industries' heir, not as a genius, but as a man.  

"May, I can promise you this: playing with her is the last thing on my mind." Uncharacteristic sincerity bled through. "Truth is? She takes me more seriously than I take myself. That's... new. And kinda terrifying."  

May studied him a beat longer. Then—  

Footsteps.  

Naruto appeared, and Tony's breath caught.  

The lilac dress seemed to float around her, hair woven into a delicate braid, subtle makeup highlighting her features. She was radiant. Different from the quick glimpses and memories he'd hoarded.  

"Wow," escaped before he could stop it. "You're—" Words failed. "Incredible."  

Naruto ducked her head, blushing. "Thanks. You clean up nice too."  

May's stern facade cracked — just a hint of a smile. "Have a good night, Naruto."  

"I will." A quick hug, then she turned to Tony.  

He offered his arm. She took it.  

As they walked to the car, Tony was uncharacteristically quiet. Dazed. Then, softly:  

"This is a problem. I'm done for."  

Naruto pretended not to hear. But her fingers tightened around his, and her smile — small, secret — said everything.  

---  

On the way to the restaurant, the silence between Naruto and Tony was punctuated by timid attempts at conversation. Both were trying to mask the unexpected nervousness they felt, as if stepping into uncharted territory — and they were.  

Tony, always more comfortable behind a joke than his own heart, made a playful remark as he watched the city pass by through the car window.  

"Did you know people blink, on average, twenty times a minute? I’m starting to think you’ve blinked half that since getting in the car. Should I be worried?"

Naruto let out a small laugh, glancing down at her hands resting in her lap.  

"I just didn’t think I’d be this nervous. It’s just dinner, right?"

"Just dinner," he repeated with a crooked smile. "With the most charismatic and modest man on the West Coast."

"Modest, sure," she laughed, rolling her eyes lightly — though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her words.  

From the front seat, Happy watched everything in the rearview mirror. Though his face remained as stoic as ever, the scene was so unusual that he nearly raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen Tony act so… human.  

The blush on Naruto’s face only began to fade when the car finally stopped in front of the restaurant.  

Tony stepped out first and offered her his hand with an almost improvised, yet genuine, elegance.  

"Hope you’re hungry. I picked somewhere special."

"I trust your taste," she replied, taking his hand.  

Tony led her into a charming Indian restaurant, its soft lighting and rich aromas filling the air. They were guided to a reserved table in a quiet corner, with a modest but lovely view of the dining room.  

"I’ve never had Indian food before," Naruto admitted, flipping through the menu with curiosity.  

Tony raised a brow in mock indignation.  

"What? That’s sacrilege! Don’t worry, I’m here to save your soul — or at least your taste buds. Let me handle the order."

Naruto laughed more freely, the earlier tension slowly dissipating.  

"Alright, I’ll trust you… for now."

Soon, they were swept up in the restaurant’s cozy atmosphere — the soft background music, the easy flow of conversation. At one point, between sips of lemon water and jokes about "killer peppers," Naruto mentioned casually:  

"Y’know, this is my first real date."

Tony blinked, surprised. He set his glass down more carefully than necessary.  

"Wait, you’re serious?"

She nodded, a little shy but without hesitation.  

"Yeah. My friends have known me since I was a brat, so there was never that ‘spark,’ y’know? And I’ve never really been interested in anyone like this before."

Tony stared at her as if trying to solve a puzzle.  

"That’s hard to believe. Like, really hard. They must’ve been blind. Or idiots. Probably both."

Naruto laughed, the sound light and sincere. She shook her head as if to deny it, but the glint in her eyes gave her away.  

The food arrived — colorful, aromatic, full of new promises for Naruto. Tony watched her take her first tentative, enchanted bite, then said softly:  

"Guess I should thank their blindness. Without it, I might’ve never met you."

Naruto flushed again but didn’t look away this time.  

"You’re good with words, Tony Stark."

"Only when I mean them," he replied, uncharacteristically earnest.  

Dinner unfolded with stories of their lives — Tony spoke (with restrained excitement) about a new project, keeping details vague for mystery. Naruto fondly described the animal shelter she’d been volunteering at.  

"There’s this cat who’s basically adopted me. Every time I show up, she jumps into my lap like she owns the place."

"She’s got excellent taste," Tony replied, grinning.  

Later, back in the car, Happy drove them to Naruto’s apartment. Tony walked her to the door.  

"It was a wonderful night," she said, pausing at the doorstep.  

"It was more than that," he answered. "Thanks for trusting me. And for coming."

Naruto smiled, then — on a gentle impulse — leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. A shy peck, but one that spoke volumes.  

Tony froze, blinking slowly, as if his brain needed to reboot after an unexpected system error.  

"Goodnight, Tony," she murmured with a soft smile before slipping inside.  

He stood there for a few seconds, staring at the closed door with a dorky grin. When he finally returned to the car, Happy gave him a skeptical frown.  

"Everything alright?"

"Better than alright," Tony said, collapsing into his seat with a smile so wide it hurt.  

Happy just sighed and started the car, muttering something unintelligible about "grown adults acting lovesick."  

Chapter Text

Location: Abandoned Warehouse, New Jersey Outskirts – 22:13 

The night was thick, heavy clouds smothering the moon. The air reeked of mold and burnt oil, undercut by something fouler — the kind of stench that only existed where humanity had failed catastrophically.  

Naruto moved with heightened senses, her chest tight. The quiet fury burning inside her was cold, controlled, but very much alive. She hated missions like this. Hated what they implied about the worst of human nature. And that was exactly why she didn’t hesitate.  

Two armed men guarded the side entrance. She descended on them like a living shadow. The first was disarmed with a kick to his wrist, followed by a strike to the jaw that dropped him instantly. The other tried to run, but she swept his legs out from under him, her boot slamming between his shoulder blades hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.  

"Monsters…" she muttered under her breath, eyes glacial.  

Her phone buzzed. She stepped away from the unconscious bodies and checked it.  

> Tony: Critical update: Just discovered pineapple in curry is an abomination. Needed to share this outrage with someone who’d understand.

She almost laughed — a sharp, stifled sound — as she typed back.  

< Naruto: Pineapple in curry? That’s an international crime. The UN should issue a statement.

She pocketed the phone, her smile fading as fast as it came. Back to the mission.  

---  

Location: Malibu Workshop – 19:14 (Local Time)

Tony, sweaty and smeared with grease, adjusted the hydraulic linkage on the Mark II’s left leg. JARVIS observed with his usual patience.  

"The thermal transition joints are still overheating. Shall I recalibrate?"

"Can you work some magic and stop me from thinking about her for five minutes instead?"

"Regrettably, I am not equipped to handle human obsessions, sir." 

Tony chuckled tiredly and slumped onto a stool, grabbing his phone.  

< Tony: JARVIS just confirmed I’m obsessed with you. Fun, right? Now I’m a statistic.

---  

Back at the Warehouse – 22:19

Naruto kicked open a side door and stepped into a narrow hallway. A man charged at her with a knife. She sidestepped in a fluid spin, grabbing his arm mid-motion and wrenching it with brutal efficiency. His scream echoed down the corridor before a strike to his neck silenced him.  

She barely had time to catch her breath before hearing muffled, childlike voices. She followed the sound to a locked door. One kick shattered it, revealing a grimy room lit by a single hanging bulb. Three children — two girls and a boy — huddled in a corner.  

"It’s okay," she said, kneeling. "You’re safe now."

One of the girls, no older than six, stared up with wide eyes. Silent tears streaked her face.  

"Is… is it gonna hurt?" she whispered.  

Naruto’s chest tightened.  

"No. Never again. I promise." She held out a hand, voice softening. "I’m getting you out of here. But I need you to be brave for just a little longer, okay?"

The girl hesitated, then took her hand.  

She led the children to a prepped van stocked with blankets and water. Before leaving, she turned back toward the warehouse.  

Her phone buzzed again.  

> Tony: Did you know you’re like a glitch in my OS? Can’t focus with you stuck in my head. JARVIS is concerned. Almost booked me a therapist.

Naruto grinned for the first time that night, her reply effortless.  

< Naruto: Tell him I can be an update. Newer version, more charming.

---  

Malibu – 19:29

Tony barked a genuine laugh, his phone dangling from his fingers.  

"Charming update… I like that."

---  

New Jersey – 22:35

Naruto ensured the local authorities — tipped off anonymously — had received the alert. Sirens wailed in the distance. She lingered in the shadows of an alley, watching as a police van arrived to collect the children.  

Only when the cops stepped forward cautiously did she allow herself to retreat.  

Her phone buzzed one last time.  

> Tony: Promise you’ll tell me if you’re ever sad, angry, or just tired? I suck at this, but I’d wanna try.

She froze in the dark alley, eyes prickling. Typed carefully.  

< Naruto: If I promise, will you promise not to bolt if I show up on your balcony looking like I’ve carried the world on my back?

> Tony: Promise. But only if you let me help carry it.

Naruto smiled — truly smiled — for the first time that night.  

---  

Location: SHIELD Briefing Room – Night

The room was bathed in low light, illuminated only by holographic screens and the stark beam over documents strewn across the table. Silence hung thick, broken only by the hum of the ventilation system.  

Nick Fury stood like a solid shadow before the table, staring at the projected images: unconscious bodies, demolished warehouses, rescued children. He didn’t blink. He didn’t need to — anger kept his eye wide open, burning with accumulated frustration.  

"You’ve got to be kidding me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Tell me this is a bad joke. That there’s a hidden camera somewhere and you’re all laughing at me outside."

Clint Barton exhaled slowly, weary, and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. The exhaustion in his eyes wasn’t physical — it was the kind that came from chasing a ghost for too long.  

"Wish I could, Director." His voice was flat. "But no. She’s a black hole in a mask. The few who know anything would rather jump off a building than talk."

Natasha, beside him, kept her posture flawless, but tension coiled in her jaw.  

"I approached the senator personally." Her tone was steel. "Played every card I had. He looked me in the eye and said one thing: She saved my daughter. Then shut down completely. Like he was protecting a damn saint."

"This cartel had one of the tightest networks we’ve ever seen," Maria Hill added, sliding a report page forward. "Three security layers. Armed guards. Signal jammers. Rotating codes. It was a fortress."

She tapped an underlined section.  

"Yet every witness account is clear. Kitsune went in alone. No one saw her arrive. No one saw her leave. Just the aftermath: bodies, wreckage, and the kids — alive."

"Most traffickers are in critical condition," Clint said, voice hollow. "Multiple fractures, internal bleeding. Some still can’t speak." A pause. Then, with icy quiet: "Good."

Fury held his gaze for a beat but didn’t comment. Natasha cleared her throat lightly and continued.  

"During that senator’s op, surveillance noted she spent significant time with his daughter. Protective. Almost… affectionate."

That’s when Fury snapped. His fist slammed the table, scattering papers and knocking over Hill’s coffee mug.  

"'Affectionate'? That’s your takeaway? After over a year of investigations, the goddamn most advanced counterintelligence agency on Earth hands me a report saying she likes kids?"

Silence locked into place like a vault door. Barton looked away; Hill pressed her lips thin; Romanoff held Fury’s glare but didn’t flinch.  

Fury paced around the table, footsteps heavy and rhythmic as war drums.  

"No origin. No nationality. No photos. No DNA. Not a drop of blood or sweat. Nothing. Not a shadow. We’re being played. Watched. Tested like lab rats. And the worst part? She knows it. Laughing in our faces."

He turned, drilling into each of them.  

"I don’t want theories. I don’t want senators with polite smiles. I want facts. Who is Kitsune? Where’d she come from? Why is she playing vigilante — and for who?"

He stabbed a finger at the hologram.  

"If she decides SHIELD’s the next ‘problem’ to fix, there won’t be a story left to tell."

Hill shut the folder, her expression grim. "Double efforts?"

"Triple them. Burn every contact. Dirty favors, surveillance, infiltrations. I don’t care. Bring me something concrete*." Fury’s eye narrowed. "Before she turns us into her next punchline."

The trio nodded. As they filed out, Fury remained, staring at the last image captured from the scene: a wall gouged with deep slashes — like claws.  

His jaw locked.  

"Where the hell are you hiding, Kitsune…"

Chapter Text

The apartment was silent, its coziness only skin-deep. The city’s faint lights barely pierced the windows, and the muffled sounds of the street felt distant — like they belonged to another world. Naruto stepped inside unhurriedly, closing the door with a soft thud. She stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed against the wood, eyes shut.  

She felt hollow. Not of chakra. But of something that had once felt solid inside her, now shattered.  

The mission was over. Objective complete. The children were safe. The perpetrators dead or clinging to life. What ate at her was how it happened.  

She forced herself to walk to the center of the room. Shrugged off her coat and let it drop to the floor, uncaring. Her steps carried her to the couch like each movement weighed too much. She sat, dragged her hands down her face, and exhaled a shaky breath.  

No regrets.  

She didn’t mourn what she’d done to those men — not for a second. She remembered the stench of the place, the terror in the children’s eyes, the chains, the muffled screams. Every punch, every strike, every broken bone had been deserved.  

But what hurt was her own reaction. The rage. The lack of control.  

She hadn’t fought with a kunoichi’s precision. She’d fought like a cornered beast. Like someone who wanted to hurt. Like someone who needed to make it burn.  

She hated herself for that.  

Kurama said nothing. Just watched, silent the entire time. And that spoke louder than anything.  

On instinct, her hand rose to the crystal pendant resting against her chest, gripping it tight.  

"I can’t lose this," she whispered. "I can’t lose who I am…"

With tired fingers, she formed the familiar seal.  

"Kuchiyose no Jutsu."

White smoke filled the room, and at its center stood Gamaden, his bulbous eyes blinking with familiar cheer.  

"NARUTO-SAN!" he croaked, hopping closer. "Finally! I was starting to think you’d replaced me with some tech-savvy toad from this world!"

Naruto tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse, fractured. She forced a smile, but her eyes told another story.  

Gamaden studied her, his grin fading.  

"Hey… Naruto-san? You okay?"

"I…" She hesitated, gaze drifting to the wall. "I’m tired, Gama. But not my body. It’s like… like part of me stayed in that mission. Like I let the anger take over."

Gamaden tilted his head, listening.  

"But you did what you had to, yeah?"

"I did. And I’d do it again." Her voice was steel. "But I didn’t like how it felt. I liked hurting those men, Gamaden. And that scares me."  

She looked at him. Pain lived in her eyes, but pride too — contradictions too heavy for someone who’d fought so hard to keep hope alive.  

"They deserved it. I know that. But I can’t let it change me. I’ve fought too hard not to be consumed by this."

Gamaden nudged her leg with his paw.  

"You’re still you, Naruto-san. Even with all that anger, you care. Just being here, questioning yourself — that says enough."

She nodded slowly, eyes glistening. Rubbed her face again, trying to steady herself.  

"Did you… bring anything from the others?"

Gamaden puffed up with a warmer smile. "Always! Everyone misses you. Shikamaru, Hinata, old man Iruka. Even Gamatatsu sent a dumb drawing."

With a POOF, he spat out a small stack of scrolls onto the floor.  

Naruto picked them up slowly, like they were treasures.  

"I miss them too…" she murmured. "All of them. Home."

Gamaden watched her quietly, respectful.  

"Got anything for them?"

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked to the shelf where a special scroll was kept — one sealed discreetly. The one with the metal-armed man. The one she’d captured but hadn’t dared to face fully.  

Her stare lingered there for too long. The memory was thick, uncomfortable. Not for the acts, but for the unanswered questions he’d left behind.  

She sighed and looked away.  

"Not yet. But soon… I’ll send something soon."

Gamaden gave a soft croak, no judgment. "S’alright. But call me before you drown again, got it? You don’t gotta carry it all alone, Naruto-san."

This time, her smile was real.  

"Thanks, Gama. Really."

"Always here, partner!"

With another POOF, he vanished.  

Naruto looked down at the scrolls in her hands. They were tethering lines. Voices from a world still calling her back. She traced the words with her fingers, as if she could feel each presence behind them.  

She was still Uzumaki Naruto. But right now, she needed to remember what that truly meant.  

Curling into the couch, she pressed the first scroll to her chest.  

"Where do I even start…?"

---  

Before Naruto could unseal a single scroll, a chime cut through the silence like a thin blade. Soft, almost tentative, but unmistakable: the custom ringtone she’d set for Banner.  

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She grabbed the phone, Bruce’s name glowing on the screen — a gentleness that clashed violently with the storm inside her.  

She hesitated half a second. Bruce didn’t call. Their exchanges were sparse, just brief messages weeks (sometimes months) apart. The last had been right after Tony’s rescue. Too recent to justify this.  

Her chest tightened, but she answered.  

"Bruce?"

Her voice came out weaker than she’d like, rough from exhaustion. She forced lightness into it, unsure if she was fooling even herself.  

"Naruto." His tone was low, careful. Bruce always spoke like he was weighing each word before releasing it. "Hope I’m not interrupting."

She shut her eyes for a breath.  

"Course not. Just… tying up loose ends." She strained for casualness.  

A beat of silence. A silence she knew well. Bruce avoided confrontation, but his perception was razor-sharp.  

"You’re tired." Not judgment. Just fact, laced with quiet concern.  

Naruto shifted on the couch, straightening. No point lying to him. Not entirely.  

"Just work. Tricky client. Nothing major."

Another pause, heavier this time. Bruce wouldn’t push. He never did. But he also wouldn’t let it go completely.  

"Okay. If you say so."

The way he said it made clear he didn’t quite believe her. But he’d respect it. That was what she valued most about him: Bruce never forced, even when he cared.  

"I just…" He hesitated. "Thought I’d call. Got the sense you might need something. Or someone to talk to. Happens to me sometimes. And… well. I know how it feels to be stuck in your own head."

Naruto blinked, startled by the outreach. This wasn’t like him — especially not over the phone. It touched her in a way she couldn’t name.  

"Bruce, you’re incredible. I’m so lucky to have you."

On the other end, his breath hitched. But he stayed silent for a moment. Typical Bruce. Feeling deeply, quietly.  

"I’m glad to have you too." Simple. Sincere. "Really."

Understated, but weighted. And warm.  

Her eyes burned, but she blinked fast. No tears. Not now.  

"Sometimes I forget I’m allowed to feel this," she murmured, almost to herself.  

"Feel what?"

"...Grateful. To have someone."

Another silence. Comfortable this time.  

"You don’t owe thanks for that." Softer now, almost tender. "I’ll be here when I can. Even from afar."

She smiled — small, but real.  

"Traveling again?"

"Yeah. Soon. Somewhere arid, looks like. Laying low for a while. Just… precaution."

She exhaled, smile lingering.  

"Just be careful, Bruce. Seriously. Don’t make me hunt down rogue scientists."

A quiet, muffled laugh. A rare sound from him.  

"I’ll do my best."

"That’s all I can ask."

Another pause. Then:  

"Take care of yourself, Naruto."

"Always. You too."

The call ended. She stared at the darkened screen, his name etched in her mind like an anchor. A reminder that even when everything felt too heavy, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.  

She set the phone aside with a faint smile — not relieved, but real. Talking to Bruce had cracked open a sliver of calm in the storm.  

Then she looked at the scrolls. The mission’s weight still pulsed inside her, but for the first time since returning, she felt slightly more grounded.  

Ready to reconnect with the roots still holding her up.  

She reached out.  

"Let’s see what you’ve got for me today…"

---  

The first scroll she unsealed was understated — from someone who, in a way, reminded her of Bruce too.  

Naruto-chan,

I hope you’re well and that Shukaku isn’t causing too much trouble. 

In Sunagakure, things are stable, but your absence is still felt—especially by those who know the true depth of your strength and spirit.  

I trust you’ll find your way back, as you always do, and when that happens, Suna’s gates will be open to you.  

Keep steady.  

Your friend,

Sabaku no Gaara

Naruto’s chest tightened. The curt, almost impersonal tone — yet layered with unspoken concern and respect — was so Gaara. It only sharpened the ache of missing him. They’d grown up together, evolved together. Their bond transcended words.  

Shukaku, meanwhile, huffed irritably in her mind.  

"He didn’t even say your name right. Relax," she murmured with a smirk.  

The next scroll was unmistakable just from its sweet floral scent. Ino. Always dramatic, never changing.

Naruto-chan,

YOU HAVE NO IDEA how boring this village is without you.  

No one to compete with, no one to piss me off — hell, not even Kiba is as annoying as you.  

I know you’re probably off fighting something insane (as usual), but please come back soon.  

And DON’T you dare come home with that rat’s nest you call hair, got it?  

I want you pretty and radiant like always.  

Yamanaka Ino,

Konoha’s Most Beautiful (and Most Worried) Kunoichi

Naruto laughed loudly, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. The theatrics hid genuine affection — classic Ino. The kind of friend who’d pick fights just to hug you after. Like sunshine in human form.  

Next, a heavier scroll. Firm handwriting, a medical seal. No mistaking this one.  

Brat,

I swear if one more patient collapses in the ward from overwork trying to cover your shifts, I’LL DRAG YOU BACK BY YOUR HAIR MYSELF.  

You vanish without a word, cause chaos like always, and leave me with double the paperwork?  

Unacceptable!

But I get it.  

I know you’d never do this lightly.  

Just be careful. Please.

I worry.  

Senju Tsunade

(Still Your Hokage!)

Naruto bit her lip to keep from laughing and crying. Baa-chan’s writing was like her scoldings — blunt, full of imaginary shouting, but with care woven beneath. That last line— "I worry" — from someone so strong, hit harder than any jutsu.  

The next was a cold, familiar gust.  

Usuratonkatchi,

Return immediately.  

Uchiha Sasuke

Naruto frowned but smirked. Sasuke never wasted words, but the few he used carried weight. Not just an order — a poorly disguised plea, laced with concern. His way of saying "I miss you."

"Miss you too, teme…" she whispered.  

The next scroll was longer. Sakura always had a lot to say — and Naruto knew this one would wreck her.  

Naruto-chan,

Every day, I catch myself staring at the village gates,  

waiting for you to burst in with that idiot grin  

and some unbelievable story.  

Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?  

Remembering you don’t have to carry everything alone?  

Wherever you are, I know you’re trying to do what’s right.  

But please know… here, you’re missed.

When you come back, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.  

Love,

Haruno Sakura

Tears fell before she finished reading. Sakura’s voice seemed to whisper in her mind, each line a hug across dimensions. She clutched the scroll like it could summon her friend’s presence.  

Then came the laziest — and most honest — of them all.  

Mendokuse…

Knew you couldn’t take a vacation without blowing something up.  

Since you left, the clans have been annoying and, honestly, it’s a drag.  

But more than that… I miss you.  

Shikadai asks about you sometimes.  

He doesn’t quite get what a ‘godmother’ is,  

but insists on learning ‘loud jutsu like you.’  

So when you return, be ready for that commitment.  

Stay alive.  

Nara Shikamaru

Naruto smiled through tears. That resigned tone was so him it was comforting. But the bit about Shikadai? That struck deep. She’d left roots. She mattered.  

With trembling hands, she unsealed the last scroll.  

Naru-chan,

Leading the village without you isn’t easy—  

your loud laugh used to echo down the halls and make even the elders flinch.  

You’ve always been my biggest headache and pride.  

Wherever you are, I know you’re doing good.  

Don’t rush back. But don’t lose yourself either.  

Minato and Kushina would be as proud of you as I am.  

We’ll be here when you return.  

With love and patience (what little I have left),

Hatake Kakashi

(Your older brother who still reads Icha Icha, maa)

Naruto couldn’t hold back anymore. The scroll dropped to her lap as she pressed her palms to her eyes. The mention of her parents, Kakashi’s quiet pride — it was like hearing his voice across time and space.  

For minutes, she sat there, surrounded by words that were more than ink — they were bonds.  

Bonds that reminded her who she was.  

Where she came from.

And where she needed to return.

She looked up at the window, took a deep breath, and — though tears still fell — smiled.  

She wasn’t alone.  

Never had been.

Chapter Text

Tony lay sprawled on an improvised gurney in the middle of the workshop, surrounded by tools, metal parts, and the kind of organized chaos only he could navigate. The old reactor flickered weakly in his chest as he sweated, pale, waiting for backup.  

"JARVIS," he slurred. "Time to call in the real boss."

"Contacting Miss Potts," the British voice replied with surgical precision.  

Minutes later, Pepper appeared in the doorway, blazer still draped over her shoulders, and froze at the scene.  

"Please tell me you didn’t slice yourself open trying to crack open a bottle rocket again."

"Better. Improvised thoracic surgery. Need a trusted assistant with steady hands. And the only one who won’t kick me while I’m down."

She exhaled sharply, striding toward him.  

"Do you have any idea how many times you’ve almost died this week alone?"

"Trying to beat a personal best. Help me out before I lose my spark entirely."

"Your spark and sanity, apparently," she said, shrugging off the blazer. "What do you need?"

"Out with the old reactor, in with the new. It’ll be gross. But you’re the only one I trust to do it."

She stared at him for a beat, the sarcasm on her face softened only by the real worry in her eyes.  

"You realize how disgusting this is?"

"Worse than that Tokyo dinner?"

"Nothing tops glow-in-the-dark sushi. But this comes close."

She snapped on rubber gloves and knelt beside him. He was paler than he’d ever admit, and for all his joking, his eyes were heavy with exhaustion.  

"This might hurt," she warned, positioning her fingers.  

"Said like a pro. Just do it," he gritted out.  

Carefully, she twisted the locking mechanism, and the reactor detached with a metallic click. Tony shuddered, hissing through his teeth. She pried the old reactor free with clinical efficiency, grimacing.  

"Is this technically medicine?"

"It’s cutting-edge engineering with a side of desperation."

She grabbed the new reactor from the case and slotted it into his chest with precise movements. The moment it connected, the blue light flared bright, and Tony exhaled in visible relief.  

"Done," she said, peeling off the gloves and wiping her hands on a rag. "You’ve officially survived another one of your genius decisions."

"Like a cat in armor. Multiple lives, zero shame."

She smirked, but there was affection buried in it.  

"You’ll run out someday."

"Not today. Thanks, Pep. Seriously."

"Someone’s gotta keep you alive to pay my holiday bonuses."

"And you love me."

"Like a sister who occasionally considers pushing her brother down the stairs."

He laughed weakly.  

She stood, picking up the old reactor — still faintly glowing — and studied it for a moment before turning to a shelf behind the workbench. With care, she placed it inside a small acrylic case and sealed it with a click.  

"There," she said. "Preserved for posterity. Never know when you’ll wanna gift-wrap your old heart for someone."

Tony arched a brow.  

"Is this sentimentality or are you setting up a punchline?"

"A little of both." She glanced over her shoulder. "Might as well give it to Naruto. Bet she’d take a Stark heart with a bow on it."

Tony scoffed, fighting the warmth creeping up his neck.  

"You’re insufferable."

"And you’re predictable. Night, Stark."

"Night, Potts."

She left with a faint smile, leaving the old reactor behind—a relic of who he’d been, and maybe, a small piece of who he still could become.  

---  

The constant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs outside served as an irritating reminder that the world carried on indifferently. Inside the workshop, however, time seemed suspended. Cold fluorescent lights reflected off the polished metal surface of the nearly completed Mark III armor — so close to perfect, yet Tony felt control slipping through his fingers like sand.

He'd been there for hours. Maybe days. Time had lost all meaning since returning from the desert. His hands were stained with grease, wrists aching from tightening screws, adjusting components, recalculating schematics. Yet nothing felt like enough.

A quiet fury simmered beneath his skin. Not the explosive kind, but the corrosive type that eats away at you in silence.

With every component installed, every system calibrated, it felt like trying to rebuild something that could never truly be fixed.

The arc reactor hummed steadily in his chest — an anchor and a reminder: You're alive. But at what cost?

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted the heavy silence with infuriating calm, "global monitoring sensors have detected new Stark weapon deployments. Location: Gulmira, Afghanistan."

Tony froze. Molten solder still dripped from the cable he'd been working on as he slowly lifted his head.

"Gulmira..."

Screens flickered to life with satellite imagery — chaos unfolding in real time. Smoke rising over simple homes. Armed technical vehicles advancing on civilians. People fleeing. Gunfire. All bearing his name.

Stark Industries.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, eyes burning.

Even after shutting down production. Even after confronting Stane. Even after nearly dying — they were still killing innocents with his creations.

His throat constricted. A dull pressure built behind his sternum that even the reactor couldn't ease.

Turning slowly, his gaze fell on the wooden box in the corner of the workshop.

There it sat. Simple dark wood, yet heavy with a weight that made him hesitate every time he looked at it.

Yinsen's remains.

The man who saved him. Who had a family. Who told stories while Tony fought to survive.

Who died for him.

Kitsune had delivered the box without demands. Just said: "He deserves a proper rest."

But Tony hadn't given him that.

Didn't know how.

Couldn't.

He approached.

His outstretched hand trembled before touching the wood. Stopped centimeters short.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he whispered, voice breaking. "I just... can't yet."

He felt like a coward.

The smartest man on Earth, and he didn't know how to say goodbye.

As if honoring someone meant shouldering the weight of loss.

And he... he couldn't bear any more weight.

Tony took two sharp steps back, swallowing hard.

He turned abruptly, as if fleeing from the box could make him outrun the guilt.

Tried focusing on the Mark III. On the mission. On what came next.

But as always, his thoughts circled back to her.

Naruto.

So alive. So stubborn. So unpredictably kind.

Since his return, she'd been the only constant that made any difference.

But even she had changed.

Her messages lost their spark. No more sharp banter, no teasing that made him laugh amid the chaos.

Now everything was brief. Cold. A ghost of what they'd been.

And he took it personally.

Like he was losing her too.

But he didn't know how to fix it.

She said she was fine. He pretended to believe her.

"Damn it," he hissed through clenched teeth, dragging grease-stained hands down his face, staring at nothing.

Tony was exhausted.

Not physically — that he could ignore — but in ways that mattered.

He wanted to fix everything. Stop his weapons from circulating, destroy every bastard using his name to hurt people.

Wanted to bury Yinsen with honor.

Wanted to understand what changed with Naruto.

Wanted to do it all — and had no idea where to start.

Leaning against the workbench, he stared at the armor before him.

The Mark III.

Maybe this was it. Maybe he'd start here.

Maybe if he could just deliver some justice, the rest would stop hurting so much.

Chapter Text

The wind howled through the mountains as Tony streaked across the sky in the Mark III. The armor hummed around him — powerful, almost alive. The HUD projected Stark weapon signatures across the village ahead — constant pings like a heartbeat.  

The silence inside the suit clashed with the storm in his mind.  

Yinsen.

The memory of his dead friend had haunted him since JARVIS first displayed the images of Gulmira. Tony could almost hear his voice, calm and firm:  

"Don’t waste your life, Stark."

His jaw clenched. His fingers gripped the controls as if he could crush the guilt right there.  

He descended.  

The impact shook the earth. Dust erupted. The terrorists’ eyes widened. Within seconds, chaos swallowed the village.  

Gunfire ricocheted uselessly off the armor.  

"Targets identified," JARVIS murmured.  

Tony didn’t reply. He just raised his hand.  

FWUMM!

The repulsor blast sent one soldier slamming into a stone wall. Another tried to run. Tony fired a shoulder missile that dropped him before his second step.  

A tank rumbled forward.  

Target locked.

"Good evening, Stark Industries," Tony muttered before firing.  

The explosion lit up the square like a dawn of fire and smoke.  

Amid the chaos, he saw him.  

A boy.  

Small, filthy, clinging to his mother’s leg.  

Wide eyes. Fear. Hope.

Tony froze.  

That expression—  

It was the same as Yinsen’s when he’d shoved Tony toward freedom, bleeding out on the cave’s cold floor.  

Tony took a step back, sucking in a breath.  

"You’ve got a second chance, Stark."

Right there, in the middle of the battlefield, he made his choice.  

As soon as he got back, he’d retrieve Yinsen’s body from that damned scroll. Give him the burial he’d never had. It was the least he could do. It was a start.  

Determination crackled through him like lightning.  

And he threw himself back into the fight.  

---  

"Sir, we have two Air Force jets inbound," JARVIS warned. "Their transponders read hostile."

"Of course they do," Tony shot back, exasperated. "I just leveled an entire war zone with classified tech. Naturally, they wanna greet me with missile hugs."

Radar alarms blared.  

"Unidentified target. Locking on."

Tony climbed sharply. The jets banked into view on his left.  

"This is Colonel Rhodes. Identify yourself immediately."

Tony clicked his comm open.  

"Hey, Rhodey. Like the surprise?"

A beat of silence. Then a sigh thick with fury.  

"Tony… Are you out of your damn mind?! The Pentagon’s blowing up my phone. CIA’s asking if you’ve gone rogue. My mom asked if you’re eating enough!"

"Not really a nutrition chat moment, Platypus," Tony dodged a missile. "But tell her I appreciate the concern."

"You’re in restricted airspace, engaging unauthorized targets!"

"And saving lives — key detail."

Another fighter locked on.  

Missiles launched.  

"Okay, so we’re in ‘shoot first, debrief never’ mode. Got it," Tony muttered, nosediving.  

He corkscrewed through rock spires and ravines, jets chasing him like hawks. One missile latched onto his armor’s leg.  

"JARVIS?! I’m two seconds from becoming salsa!"

"Attempting disengage, sir. Systems lagging."

"Fantastic! Perfect. Who needs legs anyway?"

The payload detached at the last second, the explosion lighting the sky behind him.  

Tony climbed again, hovering above the fighter now, sarcasm dripping:  

"Hey, remind me to add ‘flies like a headless chicken’ to your performance review."

"Remind me to never lend you a jet again!"

"You never lent me a jet!"

"EXACTLY MY POINT!"

Tony huffed, but the grin crept up anyway.  

Even in chaos, having Rhodey here made it all feel less impossible.  

"I’ll clear the jets, Stark. But after this? We’re having a talk. Long. Loud."

"Can’t wait, Mufasa."

With the sky finally clear, Tony hovered over the desert, just for a moment.  

The rush of wind. The armor’s heat. His heart still heavy.  

But something inside him had shifted.  

This wasn’t just about fixing what he’d broken anymore.  

It was about becoming better than he’d been.  

---  

Tony didn’t go home.  

Malibu could wait. Yinsen’s body could wait. But she couldn’t.  

The Mark III’s HUD flashed diagnostics, post-combat alerts, and power levels. He ignored them. He didn’t want numbers. He wanted air. Silence. And to see with his own eyes that she was still there.  

He flew over Queens soundlessly until he found the building he’d memorized. The address was saved, but he didn’t need it. He already knew. Already knew who he was looking for.  

And then he saw her.  

Naruto sat on the balcony railing like it was a living room couch, legs dangling, gaze fixed on the sky but seeing nothing. A calm, hollow emptiness. No mask here — just someone tired. Exhausted in a way only those who carry worlds inside them understand.  

Tony hovered a few meters away. The silence between them filled only by the armor’s repulsor hum. Watching her like this hurt worse than taking a missile to the chest. His heart clenched — not from war or physical pain, but from the fragile, unspoken connection hanging in the air.  

When she finally noticed him, she blinked, startled. Her eyes found him in the dark with pinpoint accuracy. Then, one eyebrow arched.  

"You know there’s a door downstairs, right?" Sarcasm laced her voice, but it was soft. Almost relieved, like his visit was an anchor in rough seas.  

Tony lifted the faceplate.  

"How’d you know it was me?"

She gave a small, tired smile.  

"Seriously? I don’t know anyone else this loud, flashy, and self-obsessed. And I know a lot of people."

"’Loud’? I prefer ’theatrically efficient’," he shot back, half-smirking, but the spark of relief was real. There she was.

She shook her head, still smiling, and scooted over to make room on the balcony.  

Tony landed carefully, the Mark III creaking as it settled on concrete. He pulled off the helmet entirely, letting the wind hit his sweat-damp face. He felt more human here. Exposed. And for some reason, he wanted that.  

"If I’d known midnight balcony meetups were the vibe, I’d have brought wine," he said, stepping inside behind her, forcing lightness into his tone.  

"With you climbing through windows?" She crossed her arms, smirk sharp. "That’s a bad idea with neon signs. And not the fun kind."

Naruto’s apartment was dark, cozy — strewn with books, crumpled pillows, and the scent of tea. The peace here hit him like a punch. A stark contrast to the chaos outside.  

She turned to him, curious but not hostile. A flicker of hope in her eyes, like she wanted to believe he’d come for something real.  

"Alright, Stark. Why are you here?"

Tony took a breath. For a moment, his shoulders seemed to carry twice their weight.  

"Two reasons."

Naruto tilted her head slightly. Waiting. Attentive, like every word mattered.  

"First? You." No hesitation. The intensity in his voice made her breath catch.  

She blinked, surprise unconcealed.  

"You’ve been distant," he continued, quieter. "Not just tired. Gone. Like you’re not really here. Like you’re watching the world from somewhere far away."

Naruto looked down, biting her lower lip.  

"There’s… stuff about me I can’t explain. Yet. Not ’cause I don’t trust you. It’s just complicated. More than it seems. Like living in two worlds at once."

"Are you in danger?" Tony’s voice turned hard, ready to act.  

"No." Quick. Honest. "I’ve just been… remembering too much. Home. My friends. Promises I made. And it hurts. Sometimes it’s hard not to let it drown me."

Her eyes were wide, weary, sincere. A weight even the bijū couldn’t lift.  

"I’m sorry I pulled away."

Tony stepped forward. Slow. Careful. Peeled off his gauntlet and cupped her face with bare fingers, gentle in a way that felt foreign to him.  

"Don’t apologize. You get to feel. Just remember I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone, Naruto. Even if I don’t get it all yet. I’m here."

Her eyes glistened, but she smiled. Small. Full. The kind that says thank you without words.  

"Thanks, Tony. Really."

She took a breath, glanced away, then met his gaze again.  

"And the second reason?"

Tony hesitated. Lost for a beat. She watched, patient. Then he exhaled, heavy.  

"I need to say goodbye. To someone. Yinsen." His voice frayed.  

She didn’t rush. Just waited. Present.

"He saved me. Made me see everything I was doing wrong. I’ve had his body with me this whole time. Couldn’t… do anything. Just kept it. Like if I didn’t let go, it wouldn’t be real." 

Naruto stepped closer. Eyes gentle.  

"And now?"

"Now I need to let him rest. The right way. And I want you there. Because I don’t know if I can do it alone."

She nodded, touching his arm — firm but soft.  

"Of course I’ll be there. You don’t even have to ask."

Tony breathed out like a weight had lifted.  

"I’ll send a car in the morning. Don’t let me face this solo, okay?"

"Not in a million years."

He retreated toward the balcony, hesitation in his steps — like part of him wanted to stay. Like leaving meant stepping away from the first place he’d felt safe in too long.  

Naruto followed. The sky had begun to lighten at the edges, pale over the city.  

Tony paused at the railing. She closed the distance once more and — before he could fire the repulsors — pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. A silent promise.  

"See you later, Stark."

He smirked, eyes quieter now.  

"See you later, Uzumaki."

With a thrust, he was airborne. She stayed on the balcony, watching until the armor’s glow faded to a speck in the dark.  

Chapter Text

The first light of morning painted the sky in soft hues as Naruto slid into the car Tony had sent. She wore faded jeans, a light cotton shirt, and an unassuming jacket — practical, understated, just like her mood. A small duffel bag rested in her lap as she leaned her forehead against the cool window, watching the still-sleeping streets of New York blur past.  

The silence inside the car was thick, and Naruto welcomed it like an old friend. The introspection that had clung to her since the night before lingered, wrapped in a quiet melancholy. She knew today wasn’t about her — it was about Tony. About the man who’d given his life to save his.  

Yinsen. A name she’d heard only a handful of times, but one that carried unbearable weight in Tony’s eyes whenever it was spoken. Naruto knew that kind of pain. Knew the guilt that gnawed slowly, the grief that hid between the lines of everyday life. And now, she felt a deeper respect for that stranger whose final act had irrevocably changed someone’s path.  

But there was also worry for Tony.  

He’d been holding it all together with his usual armor of sarcasm, jokes, and distractions. But she saw. The exhaustion in his eyes, the coiled irritation, the weariness disguised behind sharp words. Even without knowing everything he carried, Naruto wanted to be here now. For whatever he needed.  

The landing in Malibu only worsened her discomfort. The persistent nausea from the jet’s engines churned in her gut, and the headache from her sensitive hearing pulsed at her temples. She stepped off the plane with a neutral expression, but inside, everything felt hazy.  

Then she saw him.  

Tony stood beside Happy, leaning against a car like he was just waiting for the morning paper. But Naruto noticed the details — the too-stiff shoulders, the locked jaw, the fingers drumming impatiently against the door. He wore sunglasses, but she knew his eyes were restless.  

"Welcome to sunny Malibu," he announced as she approached, with a smile that tried too hard to be casual. "Home of the rich, the famous, and the pet sharks. Promise only one of them bites."

Naruto raised an eyebrow, her face still pale from the flight.  

"Sure you’re not the biter? So far, you’re the most dangerous thing on that list."

"I prefer ’charismatic with destructive potential’," he shot back, stepping aside to let her pass. "And you look like you lost a fight with your digestive system."

She sighed.  

"Turbine noises and sensitive ears don’t mix. Thought I’d puke on the pilot."

"That would’ve been a fantastic story for fancy dinner parties."

"Tony—"

He raised his hands in surrender, but the smile he’d been clinging to was already fraying.  

In the car, he took the front seat beside Happy while Naruto settled in the back. The entire drive to the house, Tony talked. Relentlessly.  

"You know this road’s been in, like, three car chase movies?" he started, not looking back. "One stuntman lost both eyebrows. Long story — involved fire, tequila, and a terrible script."

Naruto kept her eyes on the distant ocean.  

"Malibu looks pretty. On paper."

"Yeah, pretty, expensive, boring," he continued, now fiddling with the dashboard. "I built my house on a cliff. Y’know, ’cause I like living on the edge. Literally."

She didn’t reply.  

"And the birds here? Annoying. One tried to break into my workshop yesterday. Pretty sure it was stealing parts. Corporate espionage, probably."

Naruto smiled faintly, still staring out the window. She knew what he was doing — filling the space with words, as if silence was too dangerous.  

So without a word, she reached between the seats and touched his hand. Squeezed his fingers — firm, warm. A silent reminder that he didn’t have to pretend with her.  

Tony stilled mid-sentence. The next joke died on his lips.  

He laced his fingers through hers.  

---  

Tony Stark’s Malibu home looked like it had been ripped from the pages of a futuristic architecture catalog: clean lines, floor-to-ceiling glass capturing every shift of the sky, and an ocean view that stretched into eternity. But to Naruto, accustomed to the warmth of homes filled with life — even makeshift ones carved from chaos — its icy perfection sent an odd shiver down her spine.  

"Ta-daa!" Tony announced, sweeping an arm out beside her. "Home, semi-sweet home."

"Beautiful," she said, studying the structure. But her tone held no awe — just quiet acknowledgment.  

"Designed to look like it’s floating off the cliff. Dramatic, I know. But hey, drama’s one of my natural talents." He flashed a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "At night, with the right lighting, you can almost forget it’s an empty shell."

Naruto turned her head slightly, studying him. Empty. He’d said it lightly, but she felt the weight behind it.  

Tony quickly looked away and strode forward, already gesturing like he was hosting a million-dollar home tour.  

"C’mon. Time for the Stark Experience™. First stop: main living area. Acoustically perfected for parties, pointless corporate debates, and solo monologues about the meaning of life."

Naruto followed in silence as he pointed out each feature: the hidden sound system, the wine cellar he "barely uses" because "who needs wine when you’ve got 50-year-old whisky?", and the sunset view he insisted was "just a reminder that I’m alone in a house too big for one person."

She noticed how he didn’t stop talking. It was as if he feared silence — as if pausing would force him to listen to his own thoughts. And today of all days, she knew they wouldn’t be kind.  

"Kitchen’s decorative, FYI. If I’m in charge, the only thing that gets hot in there is my ego when the oven refuses to cooperate." He laughed alone, a desperate glint in his eye. "But the fridge has beer. And some leftover pizza from, well, the last time I let someone deliver food here."

Naruto stayed quiet. Just watching. The place was stunning, but sterile. And Tony, for all his charm, seemed to spin in place inside it.  

"JARVIS, initiate ‘VIP Tour Protocol.’ Miss Uzumaki is officially on Stark soil. Treat her better than you treat me, if possible."

"A pleasure to have you, miss," JARVIS replied courteously.  

"See? Even he knows how to charm. I built a butler politer than me. What does that say about me?" Tony asked, half-laughing, half-serious.  

"That you’re very good at hiding what you feel," Naruto said calmly but bluntly.  

He froze for a second, staring at her. Something raw flickered in his gaze before he yanked the smile back on.  

"Or that I’m excellent at emotional programming. Next stop, Princess Naruto."

The guest room he showed her was spacious, sea-facing, elegantly minimal.  

"Close to my suite. Coincidence? I think not." He winked. "But I’ll knock before invading. Most of the time."

Naruto just leveled him with a look that blended sarcasm and silent threat.  

"If I wake up to you creepily staring at me, I swear I’ll throw you through the window."

"Aww, we’ve got inside jokes already. That’s intimacy, you know?"

She didn’t reply.  

Tony moved quickly again, barking orders at JARVIS from the kitchen.  

"Order something decent. No radioactive tofu or salads that look like modern art. Curry? Sushi? She seems like a real-food kind of person. Or we could cook together — like some deranged rom-com."

Naruto watched him, her chest tightening. It was too much. He was white-knuckling it — trying to hide how much today hurt. How much this place hurt. How much everything hurt.  

She crossed the room without a word and grabbed his hand firmly.  

"Whoa!" Tony protested weakly. "Where’re we going? Feels dangerous. Interrogation? Torture?"

She yanked him onto the couch. He landed with an "oof," bewildered.  

"Naruto?"

She sat beside him and pulled him into a direct, unflinching hug. A gesture that cut through every layer of jokes and invisible armor.  

Tony went completely still.  

Arms limp. Eyes wide. Heart racing.  

"Uh... is this an emotional ambush? ‘Cause I’m defenseless here," he tried to joke, but his voice cracked.  

Naruto didn’t relent.  

"Someone very important to me once said that sometimes, all a person needs is a hug." Her whisper was muffled against his chest. "You need this, Tony. No matter how many suits you build or jokes you make. You need it. You deserve it. And if no one else will hug you, then I will. As many times as it takes."

Tony bit his lip, staring at the ceiling like he was begging for strength. But no mask could hold up now.  

"Y’know, if this was just an excuse to cling to me, you could’ve said so. I’m way easier to seduce than you think."

Her reply was firm, voice smothered in his shirt:  

"Shut up, Tony."

He went quiet. For long seconds. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep, he wrapped his arms around her. Hesitant at first — like he feared breaking something precious. But slowly, he held tighter. As if, just for this moment, he’d let himself lean on someone.  

At the room’s entrance, Pepper stopped, her footsteps pausing discreetly at the sight. She didn’t speak. Didn’t announce herself.  

Her eyes lingered on them — on Tony’s rare surrender, on the quiet, startling honesty of it. There was soft sadness in her gaze, but also something like relief.  

With the care of someone who knows when not to interrupt, she simply turned and left, closing the door silently behind her.  

---  

The rest of the day passed in an odd but comfortable calm.  

The house no longer felt quite so sterile. The vast rooms still held too much silence, but something different lingered in the air — as if Naruto’s presence had softened, even just slightly, the jagged edges that had clung to Tony since his return from captivity.  

He still wasn’t okay. That much was obvious. His shoulders carried the weight of the world, and his distant gaze sometimes wandered to places only he could see. But he no longer seemed on the verge of shattering.  

By late afternoon, without warning, Tony disappeared into the house for a few minutes. When he returned, he held Yinsen’s scroll in his hands.  

He carried it with a care Naruto had never seen him show for anything. As if afraid he might break something sacred. And maybe that’s exactly what it was — something sacred to him.  

Naruto didn’t ask. She simply stood and followed.  

The car took them straight to a private crematorium — no detours, no interruptions. Tony didn’t glance out the window once. His attention was locked on the scroll, his grip too tight, his knuckles bone-white.  

With money, NDAs, and influence, he ensured everything was handled discreetly. No explanations demanded. No questions asked. Just what was necessary.  

Naruto watched him as he waited for the ashes. He looked older in that moment — not in body, but in soul. The impassive mask he wore was thin, barely covering the storm beneath. Pain lived in every small gesture — the way he avoided the staff’s eyes, the tension in his jaw, how his gaze dodged reflections.  

When he was finally handed the urn, he took it like a man being handed back his own heart. He stood motionless for long seconds, just staring. As if waiting to hear Yinsen’s voice one last time. As if unwilling to let this be the end.  

The drive to the airport was steeped in silence. But not an empty one. It was thick, almost tangible. A solemn, grieving quiet. Tony held the urn close to his chest, as if even now, he still needed to protect him.  

Hours later, they stood in Yinsen’s homeland.  

From the hilltop, they could see the village below — homes being rebuilt, children darting through rubble with stubborn hope in their eyes, adults with work-worn hands and loss-etched faces.  

Tony stood there, unmoving, for a long time. His eyes traced the landscape like he was memorizing it. Like he was searching for traces of the man who had saved him.  

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, barely a whisper — but raw with emotion.  

"I never understood why." His gaze stayed fixed ahead. "Why he chose to save me. Why he believed I could be more."

A pause. His eyes glistened faintly. His breath hitched.  

"I was everything he despised. Too rich. Too selfish. Too blind. And yet he looked at me in that cave and saw something I didn’t. Something I didn’t think I deserved."

Naruto felt his words like silent punches. Each one carried grief, shame, gratitude — all tangled together.  

"He gave me time." His voice cracked. He steadied himself. "Gave me direction. And when he could’ve saved himself, he chose to save me."

Tony looked down at the urn. His hands shook. He didn’t try to hide it.  

"I promised him we’d both go home. Made that vow in the dark, surrounded by bombs. And now… now he will." His throat locked. "Not the way I wanted. Not the way he deserved. But he will."

With infinite care, as if handling something too fragile for this world, Tony opened the urn.  

The wind blew gentle, as if nature itself understood the gravity of this moment.  

He stood silent for a few heartbeats, staring at the horizon. Then — he released the ashes.  

They danced on the breeze, swirling like stardust over the land that had once borne him. A silent goodbye. A deep one.  

Naruto stayed beside him the entire time. Didn’t touch. Didn’t speak. Just stood there — the support he’d never ask for, but now accepted.  

Tony closed his eyes. Breathed deep. When he opened them again, his gaze was different. The pain was still there, yes. But so was something else. Resolve. A turning point.  

He turned to her. His face still bore the weight of emotion, but his eyes — now they were steady.  

"Let’s go home." Firm, but soft. Like the words were a new vow.  

And Naruto simply nodded. Because she knew — he didn’t just mean Malibu.  

Chapter Text

The day after Yinsen’s farewell, Tony’s house seemed to breathe differently.  

The air felt lighter, less dense — as if an invisible knot had loosened, even if only slightly.  

Tony still wasn’t whole. Traces of exhaustion and vulnerability lingered beneath easy jokes and smiles a little too wide. But Naruto noticed the difference — in the way he moved through the kitchen that morning, in the faint glint returning to his eyes when he tossed a careless jab her way over breakfast.  

They sat at the kitchen island, sharing fruit, scrambled eggs, and occasional laughter. A fragile peace, but a real one. Naruto let herself relax, smile more freely, relieved to see Tony — bit by bit — finding his way back.  

Then JARVIS interrupted, polite but firm.  

"Sir, Obadiah Stane is at the door."

Tony froze mid-bite.  

His fork hovered. His eyes narrowed, just slightly. The lightness in his expression hardened into practiced neutrality — but Naruto knew him well enough now to spot the tension beneath.  

"Let him in." He set the fork down, dragging a hand over his face like a man bracing for battle.  

Seconds later, Stane’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house.  

He entered like a general surveying what he still believed was his domain. Dressed in a dark suit, his gaze swept the room with proprietary ease — and didn’t so much as glance at Naruto.  

"Tony." Curt. "We need to talk. Now."

Naruto stayed silent, observing. His deliberate disregard of her presence didn’t go unnoticed.  

Tony leaned back against the counter, casual, but his shoulders were taut.  

"Good morning to you too, Obie. Hit traffic on the way here, or just run over pedestrians?"

"You’ve been off-grid for days. Canceled three board meetings. Shareholders are panicking, and I’ve been putting out fires while you—" He gestured disdainfully at their breakfast. "—host picnics and vanish at midnight."

"I didn’t vanish. I stepped away. Big difference."

"Oh, please." Stane took a step forward, voice rising. "This is irresponsible. The Tony Stark I knew — flaws and all — understood priorities. The company needs you. The world needs what you build!"

"And what if what I build is destroying it?" Tony shot back, low but sharp. "You have no idea what I’ve seen. What I lived. I’m not pretending nothing happened. I’m not that guy anymore."

Stane’s eyes narrowed.  

"Then what are you now? Some kind of missionary?" Sarcasm dripped from the words. "Gallivanting around like a redeemed messiah?" His gaze flicked to Naruto, lips curling. "Or just distracted by exotic accessories?"

Naruto didn’t flinch. But her stare locked onto Stane — silent, razor-edged.  

Tony’s fingers dug into the countertop, jaw tight.  

"I’m trying to do something that actually matters." More restrained now. "Something good."

Stane laughed, dry and humorless.  

"'Good.'" He sneered. "You have no idea what this world does to people who try to be good, Tony. Naïveté doesn’t suit you. Neither does this last-minute guilt."

His eyes dropped to Tony’s chest — where the faint glow of the arc reactor bled through his shirt.  

"That…" He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Is that what I think it is?"

Tony hesitated, gaze cutting briefly to Naruto. She watched him, brow furrowed in silent concern. He noticed. But for some reason, he chose to show it.  

"Yeah. But it’s not the same. New version. More efficient."

"Show me." A demand, not a request.  

Tony exhaled. Then, slowly, unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the reactor embedded in his chest. The blue light pulsed softly, casting Stane’s face in an eerie glow.  

For one unguarded second, Stane’s mask slipped.  

Naruto saw it. Clear as day.  

Not admiration. Hunger. Cold, calculating fascination. Something almost predatory.  

But it was gone as fast as it came. He stepped back, feigning nonchalance.  

"Impressive." A murmur. "Amazing what desperation and scrap metal can achieve. I’m sure the board will want details."

Tony rebuttoned his shirt methodically, avoiding his gaze.  

"Don’t worry. They’ll know when it’s time."

Stane nodded with a thin smile and turned to leave.  

"We’ll talk when you’re… centered." Over his shoulder. "Don’t lose yourself in this redemption quest, Tony. It doesn’t suit you."

Then he was gone.  

Silence settled like a shadow.  

Tony stood motionless for a long moment, staring at the floor, fingers still on the last button. Naruto studied him — not shaken, but weary. Like a man who knew he was being hunted, just not from which direction.  

"I don’t like him." Naruto said finally, calm. "He looks at you and doesn’t see you. Only what he can take."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair.  

"He’s not bad. Just a practical guy. I grew up with him. Trusted him. Still do."

Naruto stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. Simple. Deliberate.  

"Blind trust is for children. And you’re not a child anymore. Be careful, Tony."

He met her eyes, then smirked — one of those tired, crooked smiles.  

"I’m a billionaire genius, Naruto. I’ve got this under control."

But the lack of conviction in his voice betrayed him.  

And Naruto heard it.  

---  

Though the table was set with care and smiles were carefully deployed, the air still hummed with the tension Obadiah Stane had left in his wake. Naruto noticed how Tony pushed food around his plate more than he ate. His gaze kept drifting between the window and his fork, as if solving equations in his head while pretending otherwise.  

She didn’t comment. Just offered quiet companionship — laughing at his jokes, volleying back light teasing, playing along with the charade of normalcy. That helped more than any advice could.  

Tony, for his part, was grateful for the calm. Inside, he’d been spinning since Afghanistan. The cave. Yinsen. The weapons. The reactor. Stane. Too much, too fast.  

But here, in this kitchen, with Naruto snorting at his joke about a movie "so bad it’d make a robot power down from secondhand embarrassment", he could almost breathe.  

Then JARVIS announced, polite as ever:

"Sir, Miss Potts is entering."

Tony arched a brow, shooting Naruto a theatrical look.

"Well well. International Surprise Visit Day. Did I RSVP and forget?"

Seconds later, Pepper Potts strode in — heels clicking, posture flawless, the very image of someone who’d seen it all and still chose professionalism.  

Tony spread his arms.

"Pepper! To what do I owe the honor? Here to audit my eating habits or confirm the house hasn’t collapsed?"

She didn’t immediately reply, her eyes sweeping the room before landing on Naruto. Pepper approached, offering a cordial smile.

"It’s good to finally meet you."

Naruto stood, returning the smile.

"Likewise. I’ve heard a lot."

Pepper glanced at Tony, one brow lifting with surgical precision, before dryly remarking:

"I hope only the good parts."

A light laugh from Naruto.

"From what I could filter, definitely the best parts."

"Then it’s best we ignore all of it." Pepper’s retort was seamless. "We should have coffee. I like to vet what actually reaches people when Tony’s being… himself."

Tony clutched his chest like he’d been shot.

"You’ve known each other five seconds and already allied? Emotional warfare. I’m filing a complaint with the Geneva Convention."

Naruto just laughed, but the shared smile between her and Pepper spoke volumes.  

Pepper sighed, shifting gears.

"We need to talk. About the company."

Tony’s smirk vanished.

"Stane?"

A nod. "He’s meeting with the board. Making moves. Trying to cut you out."

Tony’s jaw tightened.

"That’s ridiculous. It’s my company."

"Yes, but the board has power. And he’s claiming you’re… unfit to lead right now." Pepper’s voice was steady. "You were kidnapped. Came back different. Acting unpredictably."

Tony looked away. She wasn’t wrong. But hearing it stung more than he’d admit.

"What’s his play?"

"A gala. At his estate. Calling it ‘Stark Industries’ Night.’ He’ll use it to position himself as the stable face of the company."

Tony leaned back, digesting this. Then — snapping his fingers — he turned to Pepper with renewed fire in his eyes.

"Then get her an evening gown."

Pepper blinked.

"A gown?"

"Sophisticated. And dangerous."

She studied him for a beat, then nodded.

"Preferences?"

Tony caught a tossed grape in his mouth.

"Surprise me and intimidate everyone else."

Pepper turned to Naruto.

"You’ll have to trust me on this." Already typing on her tablet as she walked away.  

Naruto watched her go, then turned to Tony, baffled.

"Why do I need a gown?"

His grin was all mischief and anticipation.

"Because, my dear, we’re crashing a party."

Naruto tilted her head — curious, but intrigued.  

Tony played it cool, but inside, the storm raged on. This gala wasn’t just a party. It was a battlefield. And if Stane thought he could erase Tony from his own legacy?  

Well. Time to flip the lights on. Dramatically.

Chapter Text

Pepper, as always, was flawlessly efficient.

In mere hours, the room that had once been a quiet refuge for shared laughter and knowing glances was transformed into something entirely different. Naruto descended the stairs with slow, almost hesitant steps, her fingers lightly gripping the side of her dress as if it might anchor her to the ground.  

The gown was a deep, luxurious green, shimmering subtly under the mansion’s soft lighting. Its cut was refined, hugging her frame with understated elegance — pure sophistication without excess. Her hair, usually left loose or tied back for practicality, was now styled with care, a few deliberate strands framing her face. Subtle makeup accentuated her features, and small emeralds glinted at her ears and throat.  

She looked like she’d stepped straight out of one of those old films Tony claimed to love — glamorous yet slightly out of place, as if part of her still didn’t believe she belonged there, like this.  

Tony turned toward the stairs just as she appeared. His gaze, previously distant, locked onto her. For a second, he forgot to breathe. The whole world seemed to blur.  

"Wow..." was all he managed.  

Pepper, still lingering in the corner of the room, crossed her arms and shot him an amused look — well accustomed to Tony’s theatrics but entertained nonetheless.  

"Stark, close your mouth. You’ll ruin the suit with drool, and that fabric is French."

Tony blinked back to reality, clutching his chest in mock offense.

"Cruelty, Virginia. Can’t a man appreciate a beautiful woman without you turning it into a fashion tragedy?"

"Please." Pepper rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag from the couch. "You looked like a teenager who just saw his first crush’s poster on the bedroom wall."

"Slander! I have far more class than that." He gestured to himself. "This is the face of refined, adult charm. Responsible. Elegant. Irresistible—"

"—Pathetic," Pepper finished with a smirk. "But at least you have good taste. She looks stunning."

Tony glanced back at Naruto, who still stood at the foot of the stairs, visibly uneasy.  

"That’s your fault, you know," he said to Pepper, half-serious. "You outdid yourself. Doubt anyone’ll be looking at Stane tonight."

"I hope you’ll still be looking at Stane." Pepper fixed him with a pointed stare. "And remember — this isn’t just about making eyes at your dazzling plus-one."

Tony grinned.

"Between business and staring at her, it’s a tough call. But I do love a challenge."

"Mmhm. Just try not to make a fool of yourself." With that, Pepper headed for the door, pausing to throw Naruto a last look. "See you there, girl. Own it."

Naruto nodded with a small smile. As the door closed, silence settled again. She didn’t move immediately, instead staring at her feet as if gathering courage with each breath.  

Tony stepped closer, stopping just short of her. He noticed the way she subtly tugged at the fabric, like she wanted to hide in it — like she wasn’t sure she belonged in something so elegant, so unlike her usual self.  

"You okay?" he asked, softer than usual.  

She exhaled before answering, still avoiding his eyes.

"Just... feels strange. Never worn anything like this. It’s too much. Like I’m trespassing in a world that isn’t mine."

Tony frowned slightly. The raw honesty caught him off guard. He was so used to seeing Naruto confident, sharp, unshakable — this vulnerability stirred something in him.  

"It’s not ‘too much.’" Firm but gentle. "It’s you. Just a version of you maybe you haven’t met yet. But trust me, it’s as real as any other."

Her eyes flicked up, surprised. The way he said it — like he understood, like he saw past the dress and the jewels.  

"You really think so?"

"Naruto." He took her hand carefully, as if afraid she might bolt. "You’re breathtaking. You’ll be the center of attention. And I’ll be there with the best damn plus-one in the room."

A visible blush warmed her cheeks.

"You’re exaggerating."

"Only when I’m sure." His smirk returned, that familiar mischief creeping back. "Now then, my esteemed accomplice — ready to crash a party?"

She took a steadying breath, nerves still fluttering, but the smile that followed was genuine.

"Ready when you are."

Tony offered his arm with a knight’s flourish — charmingly out of place, entirely him.  

"Then let’s go, Emerald Princess. Time to make an impression. And maybe a little scandal."

---

Obadiah Stane's mansion glittered under the golden glow of the evening, its imposing architecture matching the ego of its host. LA's elite glided through the entrance in designer gowns and tailored tuxedos — polished laughter, clinking champagne flutes, the soft swell of a live orchestra. The kind of event designed to impress.  

Tony Stark's car slid smoothly up the circular drive, stopping with precision at the grand entrance. When the door opened, Tony emerged in a flawlessly fitted black suit, sunglasses shielding his eyes despite the evening hour — a corporate rockstar. He lifted his chin, absorbing the attention with practiced ease.  

Naruto followed, hesitating only a second before firmly taking his arm. The deep green gown accentuated her poise, and with emeralds catching the light, she looked crafted for this night. A ripple of whispers spread instantly through the crowd.  

Tony, without looking away from her, smirked.

"Told you you'd make an entrance. And you doubted me."

She offered a small, knowing smile, her eyes scanning the scene like it was foreign territory — because it was. Yet there was a quiet confidence in her bearing.

"I underestimated your flair for spectacle, Stark."

"First of many lessons," he winked.  

---  

As they moved through the ballroom, Naruto absorbed everything: the chandeliers' gleam, the orchestra's refined notes, the mingling scents of rare flowers and expensive liquor. Dazzling. Yet unsettling.  

Tony navigated the sea of bowties and practiced smiles with effortless charm, cracking razor-sharp jokes, working the room like a conductor. But every so often, his gaze flicked back to Naruto — not with the polished charm he used on others, but with something quieter. More genuine.  

"So?" He handed her a champagne flute. "On a scale of one to ten?"

She swirled the bubbles thoughtfully.

"Seven. Loses points for excessive glitter and hollow small talk."

Tony arched a brow.

"Harsh. That dress makes you look like a storybook princess, but you talk like someone who'd storm the castle just to complain about the décor."

A faint smile.

"Maybe I just don't trust when things are too polished."

"Meaning I'm suspect?" That teasing lilt, but with real interest beneath.  

She held his gaze.

"You're more intriguing than suspect. That's worse. Makes people want to figure you out."

Tony laughed, low and sincere — and for a moment, his mask slipped.

"Not sure if you do that on purpose or just have a natural talent for disarming people."

She raised her glass in a silent toast.

"Just being honest."

"Rare around here." The charm in his voice remained, but underneath was something raw — something even he didn’t know how to handle.  

Before they could continue, a group of investors descended, peppering Tony with questions about Stark Industries' future. He slid into the conversation with ease:

"Gentlemen, I only function with a wrench in one hand and whiskey in the other. The rest is just shareholder noise."

Naruto lingered a step back, watching. Her expression was unreadable — not jealous, just deeply observant. Like she saw the performance beneath the performance.  

Then a woman approached her — tall, pink-gowned, with a smile too sharp to be friendly.

"You must be Stark's latest accessory."

Naruto turned gracefully.

"His guest, yes."

"And what do you do?"

A serene smile.

"I study people. Harder than it looks."

The woman faltered, raised her glass in retreat.  

Tony reappeared instantly.

"She once tried to buy my Malibu house just to brag about the view."

"You refused?"

"Sold it for triple. Built a better one." He grinned as Naruto laughed — a sound that made his eyes brighten.  

"You're stunning," he murmured.  

She glanced away, flushing. "You've said that."

"And I'll keep saying it."

Before she could reply, the music dimmed. Obadiah Stane took the stage, champagne in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we celebrate vision, courage, and the legacy Howard Stark built — a legacy his brilliant son continues!"

The crowd applauded. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Every gala, he turns me into a damn folk hero. Bet he wrote that speech in the shower."

Naruto arched a brow.

"Reminds me of someone."

"I’m spontaneous. My charm’s 100% lab-tested."

As Stane droned on about corporate responsibility, Tony was gradually surrounded — until Stane himself approached, gripping his hand too tightly.

"Tony! And who’s this vision?"

Tony’s smirk turned wicked.

"Miss Uzumaki. My very special plus-one."

Naruto extended her hand, polite but with steel beneath.

"A pleasure. We almost met at Tony’s home."

A barely-there pause. Then Stane’s smile hardened.

"Ah. New friends are always... enlightening."

Tony hid a grin. The tension was invisible to most, but he reveled in having someone who not only saw the game — but could play it.  

Their eyes met. A silent understanding. An alliance still new, yet already solid.  

"Wanna ditch this circus for a bit?" Tony murmured.  

"Only if the view’s worth it."

He offered his arm.

"I know just the place."

And together, they slipped from the glittering crowd, ascending the stairs toward the terrace — where the city lights stretched like a promise.  

Chapter Text

The terrace of Stane’s mansion was vast and open, adorned with elegant gardens, softly glowing lanterns, and a sweeping view of the city below. The night was mild, a warm breeze carrying the distant strains of music from the gala — present but unobtrusive.  

Tony shouldered open one of the glass doors, holding it for Naruto. She hesitated a moment before stepping out, her heels clicking softly against the polished stone.  

“Wow…” she murmured, taking in the vista.  

Tony shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over the arm of a nearby lounge chair.

“Yeah. Stane knows how to impress rich people.” A pause, his eyes on her. “But I’d say you’re still winning the spectacle contest.”

Naruto crossed her arms, masking her discomfort with the praise.

“You talk like you took a masterclass in charm.”

“Two, actually. Got kicked out of both.” He placed a hand over his heart in mock humility. “Too much charm, not enough decorum.”

She laughed, leaning against the ornate iron railing.

“You enjoy all this way too much, don’t you?”

“With you here?” He stepped closer, shoulder brushing hers. “Yeah. I’m enjoying it a lot.”

Naruto looked away, her pulse quickening more than she’d admit. The glittering city ahead felt distant, almost unreal. But the warmth beside her was undeniably present.  

“I don’t really belong in places like this, Tony.”

He studied her, more serious now.

“Neither do I. But I fake it well.” Lower, quieter. “And you? You don’t have to fake anything. Just being here turns the whole night upside down.”

She smiled, touched by the unexpected sincerity.

“You turn everything upside down too, you know.”

“That’s my superpower.”

Inside, the music shifted — slower now, a smooth jazz melody winding through the air. Tony turned to her, offering his hand with a tilted smile.

“Dance with me?”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Out here?”

“Sure. Great view, nice breeze, no diamond-clad socialites judging my footwork. Perfect, right?”

Naruto laughed but placed her hand in his. Their fingers brushed tentatively at first, as if both were measuring the moment. Tony drew her closer, one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers firmly.  

They began to move slowly, guided by the distant music. Naruto was a little unsteady at first, clearly unused to this kind of dancing. Tony, by contrast, moved with relaxed charm — as if it were just another extension of the persona he wore.  

“Are you leading me or testing me?” she asked, a smirk playing at her lips.  

“A little of both. You’re hard to read, you know.”

“Good. I like it that way.”

“So do I.”

For a while, the silence between them was comfortable. The world seemed to shrink until it fit just this terrace, just the two of them.  

“You’re spoiling me,” he murmured, voice softer. “These nights where you show up out of nowhere, change everything, then vanish… It’s like lightning. Makes you hope it’ll strike the same place twice.”

Naruto looked up at him, surprised. There was something in his gaze — beyond the jokes, beyond the flirtation. A rawness she hadn’t expected beneath the sarcasm.  

“And you’re more confusing than I expected,” she admitted, not pulling away.  

Tony didn’t reply immediately. Just watched her, as if memorizing the moment.

“Guess we’re even, then.”

The music played on, and they danced a little longer, the city their backdrop, the night their witness. For now, the glitter of the gala, the weight of secrets, the ghosts of their pasts — none of it seemed to matter.  

Just the slow steps. Just the shared warmth. Just the silence that said everything.  

---

Tony was making his way back to the ballroom, the memory of dancing with Naruto still warm in his chest, when he was intercepted by a smile as familiar as it was irritating.  

"Tony!" Obadiah Stane materialized at his side, whiskey in hand, his expression a practiced blend of concern and veiled sarcasm. "I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to mingle."

Tony flashed that trademark grin — all charm, arrogance, and carefully crafted nonchalance.

"Mingling’s not the issue, Obie. Just some company’s worth more than others."

"Of course, of course." A dry chuckle. "I assume you’re… inspired for another revolutionary project?"

Tony arched a brow.

"Projects? Nah. More in a contemplative phase. Savoring life. You should try it."

Stane’s smile thinned.

"I just hope this contemplation hasn’t replaced your creativity. It’s been a while since we’ve seen anything new from you, Tony. The company still runs on your genius — even if you’ve been… distracted."

Tony’s smile turned razor-sharp.

"Genius doesn’t vanish, Obie. Sometimes it just prefers silence before the bang."

A beat. Stane’s eyes hardened beneath the smile.

"Let’s hope that bang doesn’t destroy more than it builds."

Tony grinned wider, like he was humoring an overzealous fan.

"Relax. I always put on a memorable show."

---  

Across the ballroom, Naruto navigated the crowd with disguised curiosity. The elegant dress and perfumed aristocracy still chafed, but she held her ground — until a voice cut through the murmur.  

"You’re Tony’s plus-one, right?"

Naruto turned to face a blonde in a sleek dress and a smile as sharp as her posture.  

"Yes. Uzumaki Naruto." A slight nod. "And you are?"

"Christine Everhart. Vanity Fair." A casual, precise handshake. "Journalist."

Naruto blinked, trying to place the name.

"Ah… okay."

Christine laughed lightly, like she was indulging a naïf.

"He’s got interesting taste. You’re… different from the others."

"Uh… thanks?" Naruto frowned, unsure if it was a compliment.  

"Just be careful." Christine sipped her champagne. "Tony Stark’s charming, but don’t forget — he’s still America’s most charismatic merchant of death."

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. The barb was too deliberate to ignore.

"Sounds like one of those lines that tries too hard to sound clever but just comes off bitter."

A flicker of surprise crossed Christine’s face.

"You don’t know him as well as you think."

Naruto stepped closer, gaze steady.

"Maybe. But you clearly know him well enough to still care what he does."

Before Christine could retort, Tony appeared, his hand settling lightly on Naruto’s back.

"Hey, you vanished on me." His voice was light, but he caught the tension in her eyes.  

Naruto offered a thin smile.

"I may have been too polite to a stranger."

Tony glanced past her, spotting Christine’s retreating figure — and the smug half-smile she left behind. He sighed.

"Y’know what? We’ve hit our glamour quota for the night."

Naruto raised a brow.

"Ditching your own party?"

"Technically, it’s Stane’s. And I’m done sharing you with extras."

A quiet laugh as she let him steer her toward the exit.

"How chivalrous."

"Don’t spread it around. Ruins my reputation."

And just like that, they slipped away — leaving behind the calculated smiles, the sharp words, and a world that, for once, didn’t matter.  

---

The sunlight streamed into the house gently, painting the walls in golden hues. Outside, the sea lay calm — but inside, the air hummed with unspoken hesitation.  

Naruto descended the stairs slowly, her bag slung over one shoulder, her expression more guarded than usual. Dark jeans, a lightweight long-sleeved shirt, hair loose and still slightly wavy from the night before. Outwardly calm, but her chest tightened. She’d enjoyed being here — more than she’d admit.  

Pausing by a decorative shelf, she glanced around discreetly. Adjusting a figurine, she swapped it in a blink — not for another trinket, but for a transformed shadow clone, now hidden in plain sight. Her finger traced a nearly invisible seam on the window frame, where she’d earlier placed a Hiraishin seal. All set.  

As she turned to leave, sluggish footsteps echoed behind her.  

"Leaving without stealing the last cup of coffee?" Tony’s voice was rough with sleep.  

She turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, hair tousled, shirt wrinkled, mug in hand — a charming portrait of someone who’d slept too little or not at all.  

"Thought you’d sleep till noon," she said, smirking.  

"I was. Then the bed got cold. Unacceptable."

She laughed, crossing her arms.

"Hire someone to warm your pillows."

"Only if it’s you." He stepped closer, eyes roaming over her with a mix of teasing and something softer. "Leaving already?"

"Manhattan calls. Things to do."

"Mysterious things?"

"Boring things."

"The city’ll survive without you for a few days. I might not." Casual, but the weight in his voice was real.  

She held his gaze. His eyes were intense yet vulnerable — that sarcastic armor always cracked a little around her.  

"I’ll be back. Just have loose ends to tie up."

"I get it." He nodded, though his look said he’d argue if he could. Instead, he took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles — a gesture too elegant, too intimate for the public Tony Stark, but perfectly him with her. "Promise you’ll text when you get there?"

"Promise."

"What if I call three times an hour?"

"Then I block you."

He laughed, bright and unguarded, as if the sound eased something in him. "Fair."

Rising onto her toes, she brushed her fingers along his stubble. For a heartbeat, the world slowed.  

"Last night was…" Her voice was barely a whisper.  

"One of my best. And I’ve got a legendary track record." He tugged her into a kiss — brief, tender, a silent pact between two worlds that touched but still stood apart.  

Then she stepped back, heading for the door.  

Tony stood motionless, watching her disappear behind it. Mug still in hand, untouched. The absence she left behind already settling in his bones.  

"JARVIS."

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you miss someone before they’re gone?"

"Technically, sir, that’s called emotional anticipation."

Tony huffed. "Also known as preemptive heartache."

---  

Obadiah Stane’s shoes clicked ominously against polished hardwood.  

"Pull internal project logs. Development reports, recent deliveries, access protocol changes."

The young technician hesitated. "Sir, those files are under Mr. Stark’s direct clearance. Directive 16-A requires—"

"And I’m the board chairman. Don’t make me repeat myself." Stane’s voice was ice. His eyes swept the room like a predator sizing prey.  

The man swallowed hard and began typing, nerves poorly hidden.  

Stane turned to the window, staring at the company hangars. Sunlight glinted off steel, but nothing was as opaque as his simmering frustration.  

Tony was hiding something.  

Something big.  

"You can’t keep secrets in a house I helped build," he muttered. "And he’ll learn that the hard way."

---  

Tony wandered the now-too-quiet living room, sinking onto the couch. His gaze landed where Naruto had "adjusted" the decor earlier — unaware of the seal now hidden there.  

He rubbed his stubble, thoughtful.  

"Y’know, JARVIS… maybe I’m getting old."

"Given your recent physicals, sir, statistically unlikely."

Tony smirked despite himself. "It’s called metaphor, tin can."

Chapter Text

The muffled sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse, punctuated only by the distant buzz of flickering overhead lights. Three unconscious bodies lay sprawled among metal crates. At the center, atop a rusted table, sat a black titanium briefcase — secured by a state-of-the-art digital lock.  

Or at least, it had been secured seconds ago.

"Seriously? Three guys and a padlock?" Kitsune muttered, nudging the briefcase with her foot before flipping it onto her palm with effortless grace. "S.H.I.E.L.D.’s getting sloppy."

Clad in her dark suit, her fox mask’s crimson markings glinted under the warehouse’s sickly lighting. She moved like a shadow, yet carried the electric charge of a gathering storm.  

"Put it down."

The voice was sharp. Unmistakable. Black Widow.

Kitsune didn’t turn immediately. She tilted her head slowly, as if recognizing the scent of someone long unseen.  

"Widow…" She drew out the name, laced with mischief. "Starting to think you stalk me for fun. I’m flattered."

Natasha Romanoff emerged from the shadows, tactical suit pristine, gaze glacial.  

"This isn’t a game. That case contains classified data. Hand it over. Now."

Kitsune pretended to ponder. Then smiled — or something close to it.  

"Hmm… How about no?"

Before Natasha could react, Kitsune hurled a disguised kunai at a pipe above the redhead’s head. In the split second Natasha dodged, the kunoichi was already in motion — a whirlwind of strikes, kicks, and evasions so swift they blurred.  

Natasha was skilled. Lethal. But Kitsune was untouchable.

A hook from Natasha was deflected with a palm strike. Kitsune pivoted, swept the spy’s legs, and flipped back with feline grace, barely winded.  

"Still playing fair, Widow? Thought your government pals would’ve taught you new tricks."

Natasha didn’t engage. She lunged again, aiming for the neck and flank. Kitsune blocked, twisted, and in one fluid motion pinned Natasha against a steel column, arm locked, their faces inches apart. Her voice dropped to a taunting whisper.  

"You’re good. But I’m better. Always have been."

Natasha snarled through gritted teeth.  

"Who are you?"

Kitsune leaned her masked forehead against Natasha’s shoulder for a heartbeat — then answered:  

"A legend. Sweet dreams, Widow."

A smoke bomb detonated at their feet. By the time the haze cleared, only Natasha’s ragged breathing remained.  

---

The sterile glow of the underground lab cast sharp reflections across Obadiah Stane's face as he studied the holographic playback of Tony's latest test. The Mark II trembled slightly, hovering unsteadily before stabilizing — then came the abrupt drop. The crash. End of recording.  

The company engineer cleared his throat.  

"That's the only uncorrupted footage we could recover, sir. The propulsion data, interface schematics, and power source files are fragmented... but the flight system is real."

Stane stood silent for a long moment.  

"So he built it without me. Without the board. Without the military." His voice was low, venomous. "The little bastard locked himself in a lab and rewrote the rules."

The engineer hesitated.  

"Sir, with all due respect... this technology is revolutionary. If we could—"

"'Could' isn't good enough." Stane turned slowly, eyes glinting with calculation. "I want blueprints. Prototypes. Components. If he built this with an arc reactor, I need one. Activate the Sector 16 team. And contact our Afghan associates." A pause. "Is Raza still alive?"

"Yes, sir. Awaiting your call."

Stane's lips thinned.  

"Tell him we'll be collecting the 'remaining materials' from the desert. And start reconstructing what they salvaged. I don't care how many pieces are missing — I want a functional version. Fast."

As the engineer scurried out, Stane remained frozen before the hologram — Tony's suit suspended mid-flight. The smile that crept across his face was colder than the steel around them.  

"You think you can save the world, Tony..." He reached out, fingertips grazing the flickering image. "But all of this still belongs to me."

---

The monitors displayed security feeds, stolen data charts, tracking attempts — but Nick Fury wasn't looking at any of them.

He stood motionless at the head of the table, arms crossed, his single eye dark and unreadable. The silence was suffocating, thick as steel. And it said everything.  

Maria Hill maintained her composure, but a faint tremor in her fingers betrayed her irritation — with the situation, the lack of progress, and especially with that damn masked woman who seemed to be toying with them all.  

Clint Barton bounced his leg under the table like restraining the movement physically pained him. He'd read the reports, reviewed the footage — yet all he felt was the same frustration. Like trying to shoot ghosts with arrows.  

Natasha Romanoff's face was impassive, arms crossed, but her clenched jaw and tense shoulders spoke volumes. She hated being outplayed. And Kitsune had made her look slow. Predictable. Like a warm-up exercise.  

Phil Coulson, ever unflappable, sat as if attending an academic symposium. But even he — in the slight narrowing of his eyes — betrayed a quiet offense. The lack of answers was becoming a personal insult to his efficiency.  

Fury finally spoke. One word.  

"Report."

It cracked like a whip. No room for questions.  

Natasha stepped forward without hesitation, but with more edge than usual.  

"Kitsune neutralized three entry agents with precision bordering on absurd. No alarms. No noise. By the time I engaged, she already had the case. And she was waiting for me." A beat. "Like she knew I'd be sent."

She took a sharp breath before continuing, each word a reluctant admission.  

"I tried to take her down. But she wasn't fighting to win. Or even to hurt. It was a game to her. A taunt. And the worst part? She didn't even hide it."

Clint muttered, crossing his arms.  

"Like trying to pin a shadow in the dark. She'd vanish from my scope before I could get a lock. Moved like she knew where I'd aim next. Used Nat as cover without her realizing."

"She was playing," Natasha said flatly. "With all of us."

Hill spun her tablet toward Fury, frustration now bleeding into her tone.  

"And what she took wasn't minor. Those files held critical intel — traffickers, con artists, high-profile targets. All highly sensitive. This woman didn't just break in. She curated what to steal. Calmly. Deliberately."

Fury studied them each in turn. Then, slow as a blade being drawn:  

"Yet she walked out unscathed. And you let her."

Hill pressed her lips together. Barton looked away. Natasha held Fury's gaze but stayed silent.  

"You're forgetting to report something," he said finally, turning to the main screen.  

"Sir?" Hill asked, straining for professionalism.  

Fury typed a command. Grainy drone footage appeared: a blurred, agile figure vanishing into Afghan dunes.  

"This came from an unmarked drone during Stark's captivity. Someone matching Kitsune's profile was sighted in the area days before his rescue."

The silence returned. But now it was razor-wired.  

Coulson spoke first, calm but already connecting dots.  

"Before or after extraction?"

"Just before," Fury confirmed. "Cross-referenced intel places her there when Stark was still missing."

Clint exhaled through his teeth. "So she was involved in the kidnapping—"

"Or the rescue," Hill countered, more hesitant now.  

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "That changes everything."

Fury turned to Coulson, blunt as a hammer.  

"I want answers. You'll get them."

Coulson adjusted his tie slightly. "How close should I get to Stark?"

"Become his new best friend, analyst, chauffeur — whatever it takes. Find out what happened in that desert. What he's hiding. And if she was there."

"Any lines I shouldn't cross?" Coulson asked, almost amused.  

Fury's stare could've drilled through concrete.  

"We're past lines, Agent. Get the truth. Whatever it costs."

Without another word, he turned and left.  

The silence settled again, now laced with a shared, unspoken frustration.  

She was always ahead. Always out of reach.

And every one of them — in their own way — was getting damn tired of it.  

Chapter Text

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the ocean breeze as Tony Stark stepped out of the café, iced coffee in one hand and a lemon pound cake bag in the other. Dressed in dark jeans and a black tee, his sunglasses mirrored the California sky’s relentless blue.  

"JARVIS, remind me to recalibrate the left arm’s compression actuator. Still got bruises from its last ‘friendly’ handshake."

"Already added to your priorities, sir. Alongside ‘reduce caffeine intake to levels not considered biological warfare.’"

Tony chuckled, heading toward his Audi parked in the shade — until he spotted the man in the dark suit leaning casually against a lamppost. His relaxed expression tightened briefly behind the shades.  

The man detached himself with practiced ease, steps measured.  

"Mr. Stark?" Neutral. Polite.  

Tony paused, eyebrow arching behind his lenses.

"If this is about the UCLA lab incident, technically I wasn’t even in the country. But if you’ve got evidence, I’m happy to improvise a creative excuse."

"Agent Phil Coulson. Homeland Security." An extended hand.  

Tony hesitated half a second before a brief, firm shake.

"Homeland Security… Does that cover grumpy baristas and radioactive cupcakes?"

"Not yet. We’re still expanding jurisdiction." Coulson’s tone was dry as dust. "I’m here about Afghanistan."

Tony’s smile held, but his eyes sharpened behind the shades.

"Ah. That. Gave a million interviews already. Even won ‘Most Charming Survivor of the Decade.’ Competitive field."

"Not here for charm, Mr. Stark. Just filling gaps." Coulson tilted his head slightly. "We’ve got… unconfirmed activity in the area during your captivity. Patterns that don’t match local ops."

Tony sipped his coffee, buying time. The sweetness suddenly cloying.

"Let me guess: mysterious savior theory? Ghost in the dunes?"

"Just due diligence."

A beat. Tony’s grin turned razor-thin.

"Agent, I was chained in a cave building scrap-metal art. If someone was watching…" A shrug. "Didn’t take notes."

Coulson didn’t blink. "We’ll need to stay in touch."

"Fantastic. Always wanted a secret agent pen pal." Tony turned toward his car, voice light. "Send holiday cards?"

"I’ll see what we have in stock."

Laughing, Tony slid into the Audi — but as he pulled onto the coastal road, his reflection in the rearview mirror was stone-cold.  

Coulson still stood there. Unmoving. Watching.  

And Tony Stark hated being watched.  

---  

The workshop was in a state of organized chaos. Holographic displays filled every corner, flashing code strings, satellite schematics, and relentless "FILE NOT FOUND" alerts. Tony spun slowly in his chair, eyes locked on the screens, his expression hovering between focus and frustration.  

"JARVIS, tighten the facial recognition parameters. Cross-reference with every image we have — adjust for lighting, angles, video distortion. No excuses."

"Already doing so, sir. No matches thus far."

Tony rubbed his chin.

"No trail at all? Not a parking ticket? A shady online purchase?"  

"No consistent records across public or private databases. Including unofficial archives."

Leaning back, Tony scoffed at the flickering images.

"Who hides this well? Either a world-class operative..." A pause. "Or someone paid a fortune to erase her."

His fingers drummed the armrest before he muttered, half to himself:

"Maybe we're all hallucinating. Would explain the flair for dramatic exits."

"Shall I contact a psychologist, sir?"

"Hard pass. They always want to talk about Dad."

The door hissed open. Pepper stepped in, heels clicking against the floor, her gaze sweeping the screens with practiced exasperation.

"Do I want to know?"

Tony didn’t look up. A lazy wave.

"Oh, the usual. Cutting-edge tech, ghost trails, a masked ninja, and a suit who approached me like an Avon salesman. You’d love him." 

"Tony—"

"He had business cards. Who does that?"

She crossed her arms.

"This can wait. We have a real problem."

The chair creaked as Tony turned, casual but alert.

"Do tell."

"Stane. Unusual data requests, off-hours meetings, encrypted channels he knows we don’t monitor. And funds moving. Quietly, but consistently."

Tony’s smirk vanished.

"That’s... familiarly slimy."

"It’s dangerous." Pepper stepped closer. "I know he was your father’s friend, but something’s wrong."

Silence. Tony’s eyes flickered across the screens — unseeing now. A memory surfaced: Naruto’s offhand remark weeks ago, teasing then, chilling now.  

"...She saw it first." A murmur.  

"What?"

"Nothing." Quick deflection. He slid open a hidden drawer, retrieving a silver drive and black keycard. "Mirrored servers. Where the real files live. Even HR doesn’t know — thank god."

Pepper took them gingerly. "Tony—"

"Find anything off, you call *me* first. Understood?"

"And you?"

A sideways grin. "I’ll keep ghost-hunting."

As she turned to leave, he called after her:

"Hey, Pep?"

A glance over her shoulder.

"Thanks."

A nod. The door shut.  

Tony stared at nothing for three full seconds before grabbing his phone.  

> Tony: Thoughts on foxes?  

The reply was instant.  

> Naruto: Clever. Stylish. Adaptable. Flawless. Why? Adopting one?  

A beat. Then:  

> Naruto: Frogs still win though. Funny voices. Don’t meddle. Usually.

Tony chuckled, setting the phone down as his gaze returned to the screens — now sharp with resolve.  

"JARVIS, reset the scan. Highest priority." A pause. "She’s real. And I will find her."

Chapter Text

Pepper walked down the halls of Stark Industries with steady steps, but inside, her stomach churned. She gripped the tablet tightly, and her bag felt heavier than ever — not because of its physical contents, but the weight of responsibility she carried.  

"Miss Potts?"

She stopped, startled. The voice was polite but firm. When she turned, she was met with a man in a dark suit, his demeanor composed and his expression so controlled it bordered on impassive.  

"Yes?"

"Agent Phil Coulson. National Security. I’d like to speak with you, if possible."

Pepper forced a professional smile — the kind she’d learned to wear even when every instinct screamed warning.  

"Oh, of course, Agent Coulson, right?" she said, recalling his name in a flash. "My schedule’s a bit tight today. There’s an urgent internal matter I need to handle."

"Understood. I won’t take much of your time. Just a few quick questions about recent events involving Mr. Stark." His tone was calm, but his eyes tracked her every microexpression with unsettling precision.  

She hesitated for a second.  

"Right. Of course. But could you give me a moment? I need to finish a report first, then we can talk properly."

Coulson nodded politely.  

"Certainly. I’ll be around. Whenever you’re ready."

"I appreciate your patience," she said, her smile tenser than she’d have liked, before walking away with quickened steps.  

He watched her go. Not with suspicion. With analysis. This was how he worked — observing, connecting invisible dots.  

---  

The soft beep of the card reader might as well have echoed in Pepper’s chest. The click of the unlocking door was followed by icy silence as she stepped inside. She shut it carefully. The room had always been impersonal and cold, but today, it felt suffocating.  

She plugged the flash drive into the central terminal. The transfer began.  

On the screen, data flickered to life — hidden files, masked transactions, encrypted logs, and names of shadowy contacts.  

Then, there it was. Clear. Undeniable.  

Obadiah Stane.

Pepper went still, eyes locked. Her brain lagged in processing what she already knew. His name appeared repeatedly, tied to illegal deals, off-the-books weapons contracts, and backchannel agreements with outlaw groups. And more — direct involvement in Tony’s kidnapping.  

A subtle beep warned her: Transfer nearly complete.

The door behind her opened.  

"Pepper?"

Her heart lurched. She turned with forced calm.  

Obadiah Stane stood there. Impeccable. Smiling with a veneer of warmth that didn’t reach his eyes.  

"What are you doing in here?"

She swallowed hard and mustered a casual smile.  

"Oh! Just getting a head start on the audit paperwork. With everything going on, I figured I’d take the reins."

Stane stepped inside, slow and deliberate. His gaze swept the room like idle curiosity — but lingered on the active screen a beat too long.  

"You usually leave that to accounting."

"Yeah, well. Tony’s been giving me more responsibility lately. Thought I’d prove I’m up to it." Her jaw ached from the effort of holding the smile.  

Stane studied her. Then smiled back.  

"I’ve always admired your dedication to the company, Pepper."

She didn’t move.  

"Thank you, Obadiah."

The drive chimed: Transfer complete.

Without hesitation, she pulled it free, the click near-silent, and slid it into her bag with the casual motion of someone fetching a pen.  

"Well, I should run. Still need to file this before lunch."

"Of course. You’ve been quite busy lately, haven’t you?"

"It’s been a hectic week."

"Hm. Stick around, won’t you? We should talk properly soon."

She nodded, restrained.  

The moment he left, she exhaled. Her legs wanted to run, but she kept her steps measured as she walked out.  

---  

Coulson was still there, exactly as promised. He observed the flow of employees with calm detachment, as if merely waiting for the elevator.  

When he saw her approach, he raised an eyebrow — just slightly.  

"Agent Coulson," she said quietly, stopping beside him. "I have something for you."

With a subtle motion, she retrieved the flash drive from her bag and handed it over. He took it smoothly, without direct eye contact, his thumb brushing the metallic surface.  

"It’s classified intel," she said. "Highly dangerous. And incriminating. Obadiah Stane is directly involved."

Coulson studied her for a few seconds, then replied with the controlled gravity of someone who understood the stakes.  

"We’ll handle it."

---  

The screens cast a cold glow, reflecting in Tony Stark’s sharp eyes. He was reviewing the scant data on Kitsune again — or rather, the lack of it. No fingerprints, no entry logs, no clear images. It was like trying to grasp smoke.  

"JARVIS, re-run the satellite sweep of that area. We’re missing something."

Silence.  

Tony frowned.  

"JARVIS?"

Still nothing.  

He was about to repeat the command when the workshop door slid open without a sound. No alarms. His eyes narrowed.  

Obadiah Stane stepped inside, slow and assured, as if he owned the place. His gaze swept the room with a calculating gleam. The smile was too cordial.  

"Obie. What a surprise," Tony said, swiveling in his chair, arms crossed in a pose too relaxed to be genuine. "Here to bring cake? Or just another attempt to convince me to stamp the Stark logo on tanks?"

"Always with the jokes," Stane murmured, stepping closer. "But that’s what I’ve always liked about you, Tony. Smart. Quick. Witty… Sometimes too clever for your own good."

Tony kept the smile, but his eyes were alert.  

"What’re you doing here? Kind of a weird hour for meetings, don’t you think?"

"Just came to talk. About these… impulsive decisions you’ve been making. Shutting down weapons. Playing hero. Building flying toys. The reactor. You’re out of control."

"Or finally in control for the first time," Tony shot back, venom creeping into his voice. "But that’s not why you’re here, is it?"

Stane took another step. His eyes held a strange mix of frustration and superiority.  

"Always so sharp. Too sharp. And so naïve."

Tony rose slowly, no sudden movements.  

"You’re corrupting everything this company stood for. Selling weapons to terrorists, Stane. People died. Innocents died. That’s not just dirty — it’s monstrous."

Stane shook his head, almost pitying.  

"You never understood, Tony. The world belongs to the strong. To those with power. If a few weaklings fall along the way… Well, that’s not our problem."

Tony clenched his fists. The anger was there, but leashed.  

"My father built this company to shape the future. You turned it into a weapon."

He pressed the comms panel on the desk discreetly.  

"JARVIS, activate security protocol."

Nothing.  

Tony pressed it again.  

"JARVIS?"

Stane raised a hand, revealing a small device — unassuming, but pulsing with pale blue energy.  

"Won’t work. He’s not coming to your rescue. Direct interference with the system core."

Tony barely had time to react. Stane pressed the device’s button, and a wave of energy crackled through him. A buzz — then pain.  

Tony’s body locked up, muscles seizing. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, eyes wide.  

Stane crouched beside him, almost paternal.  

"You made marvelous things, Tony. Brilliant inventions. And don’t worry — I’ll take good care of them. The company. The legacy."

His hand pressed firmly against Tony’s chest. A metallic click echoed, and then — the arc reactor was ripped free.  

Tony slumped to the side, weak, his gaze glassy with pain and disbelief.  

Stane stood, straightening his suit with calm precision.  

"Goodbye, Tony."

He walked out, the door sliding shut behind him.  

---  

The world was a blur of pain and darkness.

Tony Stark gasped, his face slick with sweat, his chest throbbing with a hollow agony — as if his soul had been ripped out along with the reactor. His breathing was ragged, every movement more excruciating than the last. But he was still alive.  

And he needed to stay alive.  

With a stifled groan, Tony began to crawl. Every inch was a battle. One arm after the other, his body leaden. The cold floor scraped his skin, but he didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on a small glass case in the distance. Inside it, a luminous heart — a symbolic gift, labeled: "Proof that Tony Stark has a heart."

There lay his only thread of hope.  

---  

Naruto, in her civilian guise, felt a sudden chill. A snap of dispersed chakra. The shadow clone she’d left hidden in Tony’s house had vanished abruptly.  

Her body moved before her brain could process it. Shinobi training. Instinct.  

She leapt to her feet, eyes sharp.  

"Tch… Too soon."

In a near-invisible motion, she activated the long-prepared hidden seal — and vanished in a flash.  

---  

A discreet seal on one of the windows glowed faintly. In a silent instant, Kitsune materialized, crouched low, gaze alert. She was clad in dark gear, masked, battle-ready.  

Faint sounds reached her — labored breathing, the drag of a body across the floor. Without hesitation, she sprinted through the house, weaving down inner passages until she reached the workshop.  

There, on the ground, she saw him.  

Tony Stark, sprawled, pallid, his eyes fixed on the case holding the reactor. Sweat dripped from his temples, his lips tight with pain, but he was still crawling forward.  

"Stark!"

She rushed to him, dropping to her knees at his side.  

"Hey. Stay with me. You’re too stubborn to die now."

Tony tried to smirk. It came out as a grimace.  

"Look at that… Hallucination… with cinematic timing…"

She ignored him, already snatching the reactor from the case and aligning it carefully.  

"Hold still."

With precise skill, she reconnected the wires, slotting the reactor into place. A pulse of energy jolted through Tony. He gasped, fingers twitching reflexively.  

The blue light flared back to life in his chest.  

Tony lay still for a few seconds, catching his breath.  

"You ever consider using the front door? Just once."

"You ever consider not almost dying?"

Tony pushed himself up with effort, swaying slightly as he stood. His eyes sharpened.  

"Pepper. He’ll go after her. Stane. That bastard—"

He was already striding toward the armor, which began assembling around him in a series of mechanical snaps.  

Kitsune watched closely.  

"Then we go. You lead."

Tony shot her a sidelong glance, the visor poised to seal over his eyes.  

"Fine. But when this is over? You’re explaining who the hell you are."

Kitsune shrugged.  

"Maybe."

The helmet locked into place with a click. The armor hummed to life.  

And together, they launched into the night.  

Chapter Text

The underground parking garage lights flickered faintly. The echo of Pepper Potts’ footsteps cut through the silence — quick, purposeful. She clutched her bag tightly against her body, eyes scanning the shadows as she strode toward her car. The tension in her shoulders was palpable. She’d already handed the files to Coulson. Now, she just wanted to leave.  

As she reached her car, she heard footsteps behind her. Heavy. Deliberate.  

"Working late, Pepper?"

She spun around, heart hammering. Obadiah Stane emerged from the shadows between concrete pillars. The cold lights glinted off his dark suit, his polite smile never reaching his eyes.  

"Just catching up on work," she replied tightly.  

"Strange. I thought you’d left. But then I saw your car still here." He took a step closer. "Thought we could chat."

"Not now, Obadiah. I really need to go."

"This won’t take long." Another step forward. "Just one question: Did you see anything unusual today? Maybe files on the servers? A flash drive out of place?"

Pepper stepped back, masking her fear.  

"You’re overreacting. Everything’s in order. Now if you’ll excuse me—"

"Pepper." His voice hardened. "I really hoped you wouldn’t get involved in this."

Then he pulled a small device from his pocket. The crackle of an electric charge split the air — and she barely had time to flinch before—  

"You alright, Miss Potts?"

Stane froze. Pepper looked past him to see Agent Coulson stepping calmly from the darkness, expression neutral, one hand resting near his holstered weapon.  

"Agent Coulson," Pepper breathed, relieved but still adrenaline-shaken.  

Stane turned slowly, feigning control, though his eyes burned with frustration.  

"This is a misunderstanding. We were just talking."

Coulson raised an eyebrow.  

"Looked more like assault."

"And what exactly are you going to do about it, Agent?" Stane hissed, lowering the device. "You think you can stop me?"

"If necessary, yes." Coulson’s tone was ice.  

Stane exhaled, as if accepting the inevitable. He pocketed the device and gave Pepper one last look.  

"Disappointing, Pepper. I expected better."

Without another word, he turned and vanished into the garage’s side exit.  

Pepper whirled to Coulson, gasping.  

"He knows. He knows everything."

"Then he’s made his move." Coulson pulled his communicator from his jacket. "We need to prepare for the worst."

---  

Red lights pulsed through the industrial corridors. The heavy thrum of machinery powering up filled the space.  

Stane, now sealed inside a private compartment, approached the colossal armor of his secret project: Iron Monger. He dragged his fingers over the metal, eyes alight with fury.  

"If this is what it takes..."

Mechanical arms began attaching the suit to his body. The clank of plating locking into place sounded like a war drum.  

He glanced at the reactor in his chest — the one he’d ripped from Tony.  

"Then so be it."

---  

Pepper and Coulson were still retreating when it happened. Emergency lights cast jagged shadows over the concrete, their hurried footsteps echoing between silent cars. Then — a deep, metallic crunch shook the ground.  

"What was that?" Pepper whispered, freezing mid-step.  

"Keep moving," Coulson ordered, shoving her forward. "Now!"

Too late.  

From the far end of the corridor, where the emergency lights barely reached, a monstrous shadow loomed. The Iron Monger’s silhouette filled the space, each step a seismic threat. The red "eyes" of the suit ignited like hellfire, scanning the garage.  

"Stark disappointed me," Stane’s voice boomed through the suit’s speakers. "But you, Pepper... You were a miscalculation."

"Run!" Coulson yelled, drawing his gun.  

The Iron Monger surged forward like a tank. A parked van crumpled under its foot, metal shrieking.  

Pepper sprinted, Coulson covering her — until a streak of red and gold screamed through the air. The impact was brutal: Tony, in full armor, slammed into Stane like a missile, hurling the behemoth into a wall in an explosion of sparks and concrete.  

Tony hovered, breathing hard, his suit scraped, the reactor blazing in his chest.  

"Really, Obie? This suit?" He gestured at the hulking armor. "Overcompensating for something?"

From atop a concrete pillar, a blur of motion — Kitsune. Clad in black and orange, eyes gleaming behind her mask, she landed soundlessly beside Pepper and Coulson.  

"Stay behind me," she said, voice calm. "Stark — handle the trash. I’ll handle you."

"This is personal," Tony growled, repulsors charging.  

Stane rose, his suit whirring.  

"Still joking, even at death’s door." He fired a missile. Tony barrel-rolled midair — barely dodging. The blast shook the garage, but Kitsune yanked Pepper and Coulson down, slapping a barrier seal onto the ground. Shrapnel pinged harmlessly off the glowing shield.  

The real fight began.  

Tony shot forward, repulsors blazing, but Stane’s armor absorbed the hits. The Iron Monger retaliated with a punch that sent Tony skidding backward.  

"You think saving a few people makes you a hero?" Stane roared, cracking the concrete underfoot. "The world belongs to the powerful. And you? You’ve always been afraid of power!"

Tony wiped blood from his lip, grinning.  

"Better afraid than blind."

He rocketed into Stane again, and the two titans smashed upward through the factory’s steel skeleton — fists, repulsors, and rage colliding in midair.  

---  

The battle reached the rooftop. Distant lightning split the sky as wind whipped through loose wires and sparks from damaged generators. Tony was exhausted. His armor smoked in places, flight systems unstable, power reserves nearly depleted. Stane advanced like a waking nightmare.  

"You won't walk away from this, Stark. But don't worry — I'll take good care of your company. Turn it into something that actually matters."

Tony scanned his surroundings desperately. Systems flashed: Critical failure.  

"Pepper, you reading me?" he activated comms.  

Kitsune answered first.

"Loud and clear."

"Get to the control room. Overload the rooftop reactors. All of them."

"That'll blow the whole building!" Pepper shouted.  

"I know. But it'll work. I... I trust you."

Kitsune hesitated a fraction of a second — then moved. Her body blurred through rubble, scaling walls and stairwells with inhuman precision.  

Stane raised his arm for the killing blow.

"You could've been a god, Tony."

"And you could've been a decent human being," Tony croaked, raising his fists.  

The building's energy spiked. Heat waves rippled upward as Kitsune triggered the system. The rooftop reactor flared white — then detonated.  

The Iron Monger took the blast head-on, circuits frying instantly. The suit shrieked, short-circuiting, and Stane had just enough time for a final roar before being hurled backward — a flaming metal carcass crashing into the ruins below.  

Tony was thrown onto a twisted metal platform, armor sparking.  

---  

Kitsune materialized from the smoke. Her eyes locked onto Tony — crumpled on the wreckage, armor smoldering, chest heaving.  

"Always with the dramatic exits, huh?" She crouched beside him.  

Tony coughed, wiping blood from his mouth with his glove. Grinned through the pain.

"Stole your move, magic girl."

A muffled chuckle escaped her mask — but hurried footsteps cut her off.  

Pepper burst onto the rooftop first, breathless, eyes widening at Tony's state. Coulson followed, holster loose, expression grim.  

"Tony!" Pepper dropped to her knees, trembling hands checking his injuries. "Are you okay?"

"Been better. Also been worse. Remember that party in Paris?" His smirk was lopsided.  

Kitsune stood slowly, stepping back. Coulson's gaze snapped to her.  

"You're the one behind all these disruptions," he said, tone neutral but firm. "You know you'll have to answer for it."

"Disruptions?" Kitsune's masked brow arched. "Do you prefer chaos or results?"

"You operated outside any recognized jurisdiction. SHIELD needs you to cooperate." Coulson stepped forward, controlled. "I'm not here to fight. But you are coming with us."

Kitsune tilted her head, feigning consideration.

"Adorable. But today's not my day for playdates."

A whirlwind of leaves and wind erupted — and she vanished like smoke.  

"Seriously?" Tony groaned, watching the empty air. "That was my shot at answers, Agent. Stellar work."

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe she just disappeared."

"Welcome to my world. Except her one-liners are way better." Tony grunted as Pepper helped him sit up.  

Her arm stayed around him, silent, worried. Her eyes lingered where Kitsune had stood.  

The tension held — until Tony broke it:

"Think she’ll be back for season two?"

Coulson stared at him, deadpan.  

Chapter Text

The Stark Industries courtyard was overrun. Reporters jostled for position in front of cameras, flashbulbs creating a strobe-light frenzy, microphones trembling under shouted questions. The heat was oppressive, but no one seemed willing to back down. The world wanted answers.  

Tony Stark emerged with his usual swagger, as if heading to a casual dinner rather than a press conference about an explosive battle on American soil. He wore a dark suit with deliberate disarray — tie slightly loose, hair artfully tousled. The smile, however, was pure Tony: mocking and lethally charismatic.  

Behind him, Pepper Potts walked with measured steps, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the crowd like she could will the impending chaos into order. Further back, Agent Coulson maintained SHIELD’s trademark stoicism, but his gaze was locked on Tony like he already saw the disaster unfolding.  

Tony stopped at the microphones, raised his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised by the media turnout, and spoke clearly:  

"Good morning, my lovely information vampires."

A few nervous laughs escaped, but the tension held.  

"Alright, let’s get this over with. I know what you’re thinking: Was it a terrorist attack? An international security failure?" He paused, raising his hands like a magician revealing a trick. "And no — it wasn’t Stark Industries’ fault. Not anymore, at least."

The press erupted. More questions. More shoving. More flashes.  

"Stark Industries will cover all structural damages and recovery efforts for the affected area. Including, by the way, that hotel’s water feature — which, turns out, doesn’t hold up well to parties. Very cinematic splash, though. Just saying."

Then, one voice cut through the noise like a knife:  

"What about the armor?! Who was piloting it?! Was it you, Stark?!"

Tony froze. Literally.  

He blinked once, as if questioning whether he’d actually heard that. Slowly, he turned toward the reporter. Then glanced at Pepper.  

She shook her head subtly, almost pleading. Her lips moved in a silent prayer: Please don’t. Behind them, Coulson’s fingers twitched — a near-invisible command. Stick to the script.

Tony pulled a folded paper from his suit pocket. Unfurled it with theatrical slowness. Scowled at the words. Sighed.  

"The truth is..."

He wrinkled his nose, as if the text physically pained him.  

"This is..."

Ripped the paper in two. Crumpled it with disdain.  

"Bullshit."

Tossed the balled-up speech over his shoulder like a breadcrumb.  

"The truth is... I am Iron Man."

For one second, there was no sound. As if the entire world had held its breath.  

Then: chaos.  

The noise hit like thunder. Reporters screaming, cameras tilting, flashes blinding even the security team. A tripod toppled. Pepper buried her face in her hands. Coulson inhaled deeply, like a man watching a car flip in slow motion.  

Tony just smiled, satisfied. As if he’d just delivered the most controversial season finale in television history.  

He turned, adjusted his jacket, and strolled toward the car where Happy already waited, door open.  

Coulson intercepted him.  

"Do you have any idea what you’ve just unleashed?"

Tony paused mid-step, peered over his sunglasses, and grinned with the calm of a man who’d just set a forest fire and enjoyed the warmth.  

"Unleashed? Phil, please. That was premium entertainment. And free! You should be thanking me. The world’s gonna talk about this for weeks." He slid into the car. "That’s what we call impact marketing."

Happy, deadpan, shut the door and drove off.  

---

The sound of the press conference still echoed from the television, with Tony Stark's declaration of being Iron Man playing on every news channel on repeat.

May Parker sat on the couch, eyes wide, her trembling hands nearly dropping her teacup.

"He... he actually said that?! Out loud?! On national TV?!" she stammered, almost spilling tea on her lap.

Naruto, sprawled on the other side of the couch, was laughing so hard tears streamed down her face.

"I knew it! I knew it! I saw that glint in his eye, May! That was the look of a man about to torch the script and light fireworks in his own office, 'ttebayo!"

May stared at her, incredulous.

"This is completely insane! It's irresponsible! It's... it's spoiled celebrity behavior!"

Naruto wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still giggling.

"That's Tony, May. Spoiled celebrity is his light setting. I'd say he's more like a hurricane with an ego and a sarcasm addiction."

May huffed, standing up, still processing.

"The government's gonna lose it. The UN's gonna lose it. The world's gonna lose it! This isn't some perfume launch announcement!"

Naruto's phone buzzed.

> Tony: Sending a car. Let's celebrate the chaos I unleashed. Pizza and sarcasm included.

She grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement, and typed back.

< Naruto: Omw. Only if there's sake.

---

The glass door slid open with a whisper as Tony stepped inside, the echoes of sirens, shouted questions, and camera flashes still pounding in his skull. The sunset painted the room in gold and amber hues. Below, waves lapped gently against the rocks — a stark contrast to the chaos he'd unleashed mere hours earlier.

He moved with loose strides, tossing his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie with a relieved sigh.

"Home sweet megalomaniacal lab..." he murmured.

He was halfway to the bar for whiskey when something caught his attention: the lamp by the sofa was on. And he definitely hadn't left it that way.

Then came the voice.

"Nice place."

Tony froze mid-step. Turned slowly.

At the center of the room, sitting with the ease of someone who owned it, was a tall Black man with a severe expression and an eyepatch. Beside him stood a woman with military bearing — Maria Hill.

Tony raised an eyebrow, whiskey glass still in hand.

"Wow. Home invasion with style. Now that's an entrance. Couldn't email first?"

The man didn't rise.

"You just declared yourself a superhero to the world. That attracts more than fans, Stark."

Tony poured his drink calmly and leaned against the bar.

"'Superhero' seems generous. I'd go with genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist with armor. More flair."

"It also makes you a bigger target," the man countered dryly. "And you just painted a bullseye on your back."

Tony took a sip.

"And you are?"

"Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Tony blinked slowly, savoring the name.

"SHIELD? That a name or did someone have a stroke on their keyboard?"

Hill looked away, visibly weary.

Fury remained unmoved.

"SHIELD handles threats you can't even imagine exist. The kind you think only live in comic books."

Tony flashed a grin.

"Ah, so you're the serious adults who clean up the mess. Cute. You here to scold me?"

Fury finally stood, imposing, meeting Tony eye-to-eye.

"We're here because you just changed the game. And you don't even know what the rules were to begin with."

Tony laughed, flopping onto the sofa with his drink.

"I improvise pretty damn well."

"Won't be enough."

Silence.

Tony studied Fury, his smile fading. This wasn't like dealing with senators or reporters. The man didn't impress easily. Didn't get rattled. And clearly wasn't here to kiss his ass.

Fury simply settled back into the sofa, comfortable, his gaze locked on Tony like he knew this conversation was just beginning.

"We've got a lot to talk about, Stark." 

---

The golden hues of the Pacific sunset painted the sleek interior of Stark's mansion. Waves crashed rhythmically outside, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.

Nick Fury remained seated with the posture of a man who intended to dominate the conversation — or the entire room if necessary. Beside him, Maria Hill maintained her usual stoic expression, hands clasped behind her back, eyes tracking every movement.

Tony swirled the ice in his whiskey glass slowly. His half-lidded gaze studied Fury like he was examining an abstract painting he'd never asked to see.

"Well now," Tony said, raising his bare wrist dramatically, "according to my invisible watch, I've got an appointment soon. Expected visitors. Pleasant company. Civilized conversation. You familiar with the concept?"

Fury didn't blink.

"I don't care about your social calendar, Stark. You've got unfinished business."

Tony arched an eyebrow like he'd heard a bad joke.

"Really? That's new. Because normally when people show up uninvited in my living room, they want autographs. Or whiskey." He tilted his head. "You look more like the confession-or-a-liver type."

"You know exactly what's at stake here."

"Me? I barely know what I'm having for dinner."

Fury didn't budge.

"You forgot to mention a small detail in your reports. Something about your association with a certain masked mercenary."

Tony barked a laugh, standing to pace toward the window with his drink.

"Ah, this again. I thought you'd be more creative. 'Association with mercenary.' That almost sounds romantic." He took a sip. "If this is about Kitsune, hate to disappoint, but the only woman I've been seeing lately is blonde, volunteers at an animal shelter, and thinks JARVIS is more charming than me."

"This isn't a joke, Stark."

Tony spun on his heel, suddenly animated.

"No? Because it sounds exactly like one. 'A billionaire, a spy, and a ninja walk into a bar...'" He gestured to an imaginary audience. "'And the spy breaks into the billionaire's house because he's jealous.'"

Fury exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Kitsune is a liability. A national security threat. And by ignoring that, you're putting yourself at the center of something bigger than your ego can handle."

Tony tilted his head, a provoking smile forming.

"Threat, huh? Funny. Every time I've crossed paths with her, nothing exploded unnecessarily, no cities fell from the sky, and — get this — no one gave me a testosterone-fueled lecture about 'national security.'"

Fury rose slowly from the armchair, his voice like tempered steel.

"You don't know what she's capable of. You have no idea what's at stake."

Tony stepped closer with theatrical confidentiality.

"Or maybe you're just uncomfortable that someone out there is more competent than you and doesn't need your permission to exist."

Fury's eyes narrowed to slits. The air grew thick enough to slice. Hill shifted almost imperceptibly beside him, ready to intervene.

Just as Fury took a step forward for a more direct confrontation — the soft hiss of the door opening cut through the tension.

Naruto stepped in cautiously. The moment she registered the three occupants and the charged atmosphere, she froze mid-step.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her eyes darting between Tony and Fury like she'd walked into a minefield.

Tony turned to her with suddenly breezy demeanor.

"You? Never." He spread his arms casually. "Just crashed a free masterclass in grumpy monologues."

He thumbed over his shoulder at Fury.

"Our distinguished guest here was just about to make his dramatic exit. Or whatever passes for dignified in his line of work."

Fury turned his head slowly toward Naruto, assessing her with the intensity of a battlefield general. The gaze wasn't accusatory — it was analytical, cold, technical.

Naruto met his stare, but the tension in her shoulders remained palpable.

Fury turned back to Tony.

"This isn't over."

With a nod to Hill, he moved toward the exit.

"Promise?" Tony called after him, smiling wryly. "I was starting to enjoy the company."

Fury left without looking back. Hill followed silently.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Tony exhaled dramatically, turning to pour another finger of whiskey.

Naruto remained rooted in place, staring at the door.

"Who were they?" she asked, still feeling the weight of Fury's presence in the air.

Tony smiled over his glass.

"Boring people. Spooks. Probably getting their own cartoon in a few years." He took a sip. "But for now, they're just the reason I need better locks."

Chapter Text

Naruto kept staring at the door where Fury and Hill had exited, her expression tense and confused. She turned slowly to Tony, her bright blue eyes studying him carefully.

"Were they... agents?" she asked quietly, voice cautious. "Is this about the press conference? Are you... in trouble?"

Tony, still standing with one hand in his pocket, scoffed dismissively as if the question was absurd.

"Trouble? I'm Tony Stark. I am the trouble," he said with a lopsided grin before lazily flopping onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I've been in way worse scrapes. This? Just another Tuesday with bonus government drama."

Naruto remained standing, fingers twisting together nervously. She took a hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him more closely.

"But... are you okay? After yesterday? The attack... the explosions..." Her voice wavered slightly. "Were you hurt?"

Tony looked at her with a small smirk. His gaze lingered on her face, and there was something softer there behind his usual arrogance.

"Still in one piece. Maybe a bit more banged up than usual, but nothing some ice and good whiskey can't fix." He added lightly, "I like to think surviving an assassination attempt gives me a healthy glow."

Naruto let out a restrained laugh, seeming relieved but still hesitant. Tony reached out to her, his gesture casual yet welcoming.

"Enough of that. Come here." When she finally took his hand, he guided her to the couch with a light touch. "No more talk about suits or explosions. Tonight's about good company," he said with blatant flirtation as he sat beside her.

She visibly blushed, looking away as she tried to suppress a shy smile.

"You're too direct..."

"And you're still surprised. It's adorable."

Tony leaned back more comfortably and raised his voice.

"JARVIS, let's order some food. Something that pairs well with movie night and charming company."

Silence.

He blinked, then looked at the ceiling as if expecting the answer to come from there.

"JARVIS?"

Nothing.

Tony frowned and muttered under his breath, annoyed.

"Right... Stane's idiot override." He pulled out his phone, tapped a few commands, and waited.

A few seconds later, the familiar AI voice echoed through the room, dry and almost resentful.

"Welcome back, sir. I was... unavailable."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Wow, holding a grudge now? I didn't think you were programmed for pettiness."

Naruto leaned forward slightly, concerned.

"Are you okay, JARVIS?" she asked sincerely.

There was a noticeable pause before the AI responded in a noticeably gentler tone.

"Operational, Miss Uzumaki. I appreciate your concern. It was merely a forced systems interruption. Nothing critical."

Tony slowly turned to Naruto with mock indignation.

"This is persecution. Even my AI has a favorite now."

Naruto stifled a laugh, trying to maintain composure. She ignored Tony's comment and politely addressed the AI again.

"JARVIS, could you order us some Japanese food? Nothing too spicy, please."

"Immediately, Miss Uzumaki. Order placed. Estimated delivery in forty minutes."

Tony threw his hands up dramatically.

"Fantastic. I'm officially being ganged up on in my own home. By software and a smirking guest."

"You two make a dangerous pair," he added, turning slightly and draping an arm around her waist to pull her closer with smooth intentionality.

Naruto didn't resist the touch, though her body remained slightly tense, as if part of her wasn't used to such casual intimacy.

"Can we watch something while we wait?" she asked, still looking at him sideways.

"Best idea I've heard all day," he replied, already relaxing. "JARVIS, ambient lighting, theater mode."

The lights dimmed to warm tones as the large screen activated.

Tony adjusted his position, his hand resting naturally at her waist.

"There. Now we just wait for food, watch something ridiculous, and pretend scowling eyepatch-wearing spooks never showed up in my living room."

Naruto laughed, lighter this time, and leaned her shoulder against his.

---

The next morning, Naruto woke early as usual. The mansion stood silent, soft morning light creeping through the curtains. Though her body felt rested, her mind was already racing at full speed. After a quick shower and changing into comfortable clothes, she wandered through the quiet house until she found the kitchen.

"JARVIS?" she called softly.

"Good morning, Miss Uzumaki. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you. Could you help me make breakfast?"

"It would be my pleasure. Displaying preparation suggestions now. Ingredients are being highlighted on the kitchen panel."

Naruto smiled to herself at the AI's attentiveness and got to work. Soon the aroma of bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes and fresh coffee filled the air. She sliced fruit with precision and set the table carefully, as if preparing for a small feast. The process centered her - cooking for someone brought a peace she was still growing accustomed to feeling.

It wasn't until much later that Tony's footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and lazy. He appeared in the doorway with sleep-tousled hair, a wrinkled t-shirt, and eyes that still carried traces of drowsiness.

"Wow..." he murmured with a half-smile. "Either I died and went to heaven, or you're trying to enchant me first thing in the morning."

Naruto, just finishing pouring a glass of juice, turned to him with an amused look.

"Good morning to you too."

"You made all this?" he asked, approaching the table in surprise.

"With some help from JARVIS," she replied, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Tony sat and grabbed a piece of pancake with his fingers, popping it in his mouth.

"Okay, decision made. You're never leaving. Consider yourself officially kidnapped. You cook better than some chefs I've paid," he declared with mock solemnity.

"Is that a compliment or a threat?" Naruto laughed.

"Both," he countered with a lazy smile.

They began eating, trading light teasing and looks that grew more comfortable with each shared moment. The atmosphere was relaxed, as if time had deliberately slowed down just for them.

"So, plans for today? Going out to charm more hearts?" Tony asked casually, elbow on the table with a suggestive smile.

Naruto opened her mouth to reply when JARVIS interrupted.

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes is at the entrance."

Tony sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

"Ah, perfect. The cavalry's arrived to lecture me first thing. Just when the day was going so well."

Naruto hid a smile behind her coffee cup.

Moments later, James Rhodes appeared. His military uniform remained impeccable, his serious expression contrasting with the cozy kitchen atmosphere. The moment he spotted Tony, he crossed his arms firmly.

"Tell me you weren't sober yesterday. Please tell me that press conference speech was made under the influence of something very expensive and very illegal."

Tony arched his eyebrows with the calm of someone who felt not the slightest guilt.

"Morning, platypus. I missed you too."

Rhodes huffed, but noticing Naruto at the table, his tone softened. He observed her for a moment, as if trying to regain his composure.

"Sorry about this," he said to her. "James Rhodes. Air Force Colonel. And someone who normally waits for coffee before starting to yell."

Naruto smiled kindly, noting his subtle embarrassment.

"Uzumaki Naruto. Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Rhodes shot Tony a sharp look, as if to confirm exactly what had been said.

"I hope only the good parts," he commented, somewhat disconcerted. "And thanks. For, well, putting up with this guy."

Naruto chuckled quietly, shaking her head.

"It hasn't been a hardship."

"I'm literally right here," Tony protested, feigning offense. "Alive. Breathing. Hearing everything."

Naruto turned to Rhodes with a smile.

"Want to join us for breakfast?"

Rhodes hesitated for a second, duty still visible on his face, then nodded.

"Sure. Thanks."

"Traitor," Tony muttered, pouring more coffee.

"Stop being a baby," said Naruto, grabbing more pancakes.

"Baby? I'm a monument of maturity and grace. An inspiration to generations," Tony countered with theatrical offense.

Rhodes gave him a long-suffering look.

"I work with pilots. With spoiled brats and egos the size of the sky. And yet none of them compare to you."

Naruto laughed, and the three continued breakfast amid teasing, amused glances, and an unexpected sense of harmony. Perhaps Naruto's presence had softened the edges of Tony's routine — or perhaps they were both growing accustomed to being part of each other's lives, even if just gradually.

---

After a peaceful breakfast, the three settled into the living room. James Rhodes, who had maintained a relatively light demeanor until then, leaned back in his armchair across from Tony, arms crossed, expression serious. The air between them shifted. Naruto, seated beside Tony on the couch, sensed the tension thickening. She watched silently, eyes tracking the restrained gestures, the heavy words about to be spoken.  

"Tony, what were you thinking?" Rhodes began bluntly. His tone was grave, but not cold — just weighted with the kind of concern that comes from real fear. "First, you build a combat-grade military armor without consulting anyone. Not a word. Then you decide to fly into restricted airspace without protocol, without even giving me a heads-up."

He paused, as if struggling to keep his composure.  

"And then you engage in armed combat in the middle of the city. Alone. Against a guy who, let’s be honest, was completely unhinged. No backup. No plan. No thought for the consequences."

Tony shrugged, as if this were just another casual argument between friends — but the tension in his shoulders didn’t escape Naruto’s notice.  

"Wow. You forgot the ‘good job,’ Rhodey. Is this how you treat someone who just redefined applied physics in aerial combat? I was expecting at least a ‘congrats on the show.’"

James ignored him.  

"You should’ve called for backup! Did you forget how a phone works? Couldn’t you have texted me? Sent a warning? Or just called?"

Naruto’s gaze flicked between them. She recognized this exchange. What sounded like a lecture was really a desperate plea from someone who’d nearly lost one of the most important people in his life.  

Tony knew it. And that was exactly why he responded the way he always did when emotions got too close — with deflection.  

"I had it under control. You know how it is — a little tweak here, a little explosion there, just stopped a terrorist attack, tested cutting-edge weaponry, almost died… Standard Tuesday."

"This isn’t funny, Tony." James’ voice cracked slightly. "You almost died. And you act like it was part of the plan. It wasn’t. It can’t be."

Tony, for once, fell silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted — not entirely, but there was something sober beneath the words.  

"Rhodey, for the first time in my life, I’m taking something seriously. All of this… the armor, what happened with Obadiah… It wasn’t impulsive. I knew what I was doing. And yeah, it was dangerous. But it wasn’t a whim."

James studied him carefully. Tony’s gaze was steady, none of the usual mocking glint in his eyes. He realized, then, that Tony truly meant every word. And that made him hesitate.  

"Just don’t forget," James said, his voice softening like an older brother trying to reach the most stubborn sibling. "You don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here. Always have been."

Before Tony could fire back with another quip, Naruto leaned forward slightly, smiling.  

"Don’t worry, Colonel. I’ll make sure he remembers that."

James turned to her, offering a small, grateful smile.  

"Good to know he’s got someone sensible around. I appreciate it, Naruto."

She nodded, and once again, a quiet calm settled over the room.  

James stood, grabbing his jacket.  

"I’ve got to go. Just wanted to make sure you were still alive and in one piece, Stark."

"I am. And incredibly handsome too, in case you forgot," Tony shot back, the sarcasm creeping in again.  

Rhodes rolled his eyes with a faint smirk.  

"Try not to blow anything up before I get back, at least."

Tony walked him to the door, and once Rhodes was gone, he exhaled deeply, as if finally able to breathe again. He turned to Naruto with a theatrical grin, spreading his arms.  

"Well, after that five-star-general-worthy lecture, I declare that we are getting out of here. Now."

Naruto arched a brow, suspicious.  

"And where, exactly, are we going?"

Tony snatched a set of car keys from the entryway table, spinning them around his finger.  

"Surprise."

Naruto crossed her arms, fighting a smile.  

"This always ends in trouble."

"Ah, but with me," he said, winking, "it’s the good kind of trouble."

She followed him with a soft sigh, her heart lighter than it had been in days.  

Tony still made her laugh.  

And for now, that was enough.  

Chapter Text

Naruto blinked in surprise as the automatic gates slid open, revealing the vibrant facade of their destination. A colorful sign stood out boldly: "Aqua Park – Dive into an Aquatic Adventure!" She stared at the entrance, then slowly turned to Tony with a puzzled frown.  

"An aquarium?" she asked, still processing the choice.  

Tony removed his sunglasses with exaggerated flair, revealing a mischievous, proud glint in his eyes.  

"What were you expecting? A helicopter tour around the city? Skydiving? Naruto, please. A little class. The aquatic world is fascinating. And—" He thumbed toward the sign. "—they have penguins. Who doesn’t love penguins?"

Naruto let out a small laugh, shaking her head.  

"I had no idea you were a penguin enthusiast."

"They wear tuxedos all the time. They’re basically the James Bonds of the animal kingdom. Respect."

She chuckled as he offered his arm in an overly courtly manner.  

"Miss Uzumaki, allow me to escort you on a journey of aquatic contemplation and witty commentary."

"I’m starting to think you rehearse these lines," she remarked, taking his arm.  

"Rehearse? I was born this way."

---  

Inside the aquarium, the soft lighting and gentle bubbling of water created an almost hypnotic atmosphere. Children darted around, wide-eyed at the marine life. Naruto let herself be enchanted by the massive tanks where rays glided gracefully and sharks patrolled with silent majesty.  

"These guys—" Tony pointed at a school of brightly colored fish. "—are clown surgeonfish. Ironic name, right? Surgeon and clown in the same sentence. I bet the hospital they work at is very entertaining."

Naruto laughed under her breath, crossing her arms as she watched the fish swim by.  

"Do you always have a comment for everything?"

"It’s a natural talent. Like breathing. Or charming mysterious women in aquariums."

She rolled her eyes but was smiling.  

When they reached the amphibian exhibit, Naruto immediately gravitated toward one of the terrariums. Her eyes lit up at the sight of exotic frogs perched on leaves and rocks. There was something almost childlike in the way she observed them, and Tony noticed.  

"Wait, you actually like frogs?" he asked, eyebrows raised.  

Naruto turned to him, animated.  

"I really do. Always have. When I was a kid, my godfather gave me a frog-shaped wallet. Gama-chan. It was one of my favorite gifts. I carried it everywhere — it was my good luck charm."

Tony fell silent for a second. There was something soft in her voice, a quiet nostalgia. This glimpse of the child she’d been, the memory laced with affection — it was a fascinating contrast to the strong, independent woman he knew.  

"Gama-chan," he repeated, a surprised smile forming. "Naruto, you are a genuine treasure trove of surprises."

She looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.  

"I like simple things. Even if no one expects that from me."

"Oh, I’d expect it. You’re unpredictable. A rare mix of strength and softness. Gotta admit, you’re making it hard to put you in a box." His tone hovered between teasing and genuine admiration.  

Naruto smiled faintly, unsure how to respond.  

"Maybe I’m not meant to be put in one," she said quietly.  

Tony studied her for a moment, his grin softening. Then he gestured toward the next corridor.  

"Shall we see the penguins, then? Since we’re in revealing mode, I need to know if you also have an emotional backstory involving seabirds."

Naruto laughed, shaking her head.  

"I think you’ll have to settle for Gama-chan for today."

"A shame. But I’ll survive." He sighed dramatically as the two continued down the hall.  

---

After visiting the aquarium, Naruto and Tony made their way to the outdoor section of the park, where colorful lights flashed to an upbeat rhythm, music played in the background, and the scent of food filled the air. The atmosphere buzzed with joy — something that seemed to infect them both.  

Their first stop was the roller coaster. Naruto was as excited as a child, her eyes sparkling as she watched the tracks twist against the sky.  

"You’re really going to ride this thing?" Tony asked skeptically, eyeing the loop.  

"Of course! This is pure adrenaline!" Naruto grinned. "No backing out once we’re up there, you know."

"I don’t back out. I strategically retreat." He tugged at his shirt like he was showing off.  

As the coaster climbed, Naruto laughed, her hair whipping in the wind. Tony, meanwhile, tried to play it cool, but she noticed his fingers gripping the safety bar a little too tightly. At the peak, just before the drop, Naruto threw her arms up with a shout. When the cart plunged, they both screamed — but her laughter was pure, vibrant. Contagious.  

"Okay," Tony said, slightly breathless as they stepped off. "That was insane."

"You survived. I’m proud." She lightly punched his shoulder.  

Next was the shooting gallery. Tony picked up the toy gun with exaggerated confidence.  

"Ready to witness the definition of perfect aim?"

"As long as it’s not self-proclaimed, go ahead." She took her own gun, adjusting her stance calmly.  

They fired in sync. When the final score appeared, it was a tie.  

"A tie?" Tony tilted his head as if the machine were broken.  

Naruto raised an eyebrow.  

"That’s disappointing."

"Oh, come on, are you gonna stomp your foot now?"

She huffed, pouting in clear frustration.  

"I’m not stomping my foot."

"Sure, sure. Next you’ll cross your arms and turn away. Oh, look at that, you did." He laughed.  

"I just don’t like tying."

"Competitive and cute. Dangerous combo."

She flushed, nudging him with her elbow.  

After snacks — popcorn, hot dogs, cotton candy — they reached the fishing game. Naruto tried to play it cool, but she took it seriously.  

"Don’t mess this up, Stark. There’s honor at stake."

"Honor? With fishing rods and toy fish?" He grinned. "Now I have to win."

In the end, Tony hooked the last magnetic fish seconds before her.  

"Victory for Iron Man!" he declared, raising the rod like a trophy.  

Naruto grumbled and crossed her arms again.