The world kept spinning. Seasons passed. Generations aged. And through it all, Darius remained where he had always been—watching, lounging, sometimes upside-down in the sky, sometimes just a cloud no one noticed, other times an old man sipping tea in by the fireplace. No one remembered him.
He had watched Hagoromo's teachings splinter into new ideologies, passed down through oral tradition, then through scroll, then bloodlines. The shinobi system was born from need—communities desperate for defense, power, structure.
What started as scattered clans slowly unified, not because of peace, but because of the exhaustion of endless war.
He watched as Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha—descendants of Asura and Indra respectively—rose as gods among men. Both were remarkable in their own way: Hashirama with his kindness and godly near-unmatched chakra reserves, Madara with his raw intellect, ruthlessness, and thirst for purpose.
Darius had especially enjoyed the early days of their friendship. Two boys skipping stones, wrestling in the river, dreaming of a better world while hiding their surnames. It was tragically poetic when they realized they were destined enemies. And even more tragic when they embraced that destiny.
The birth of the Hidden Leaf—Konohagakure—had been a milestone in the world's history. Darius floated above the forest the day Hashirama and Madara shook hands. For a brief moment, it seemed like the shinobi could have peace.
But peace was always fragile.
The first Great Shinobi War was like the cracking of a dam. Once one village formed, others followed: Sunagakure, Kirigakure, Iwagakure, Kumogakure. Darius had found the naming conventions a little lazy, but he admired the symmetry.
Nations rose, backed by their respective elemental Daimyō. Alliances were made and broken faster than he could list them. Treaties were signed with smiles and poisoned with suspicion.
The Tailed Beasts, or bijuu, once free and wandering (and hilariously grumpy), were captured and used as tools of deterrence—living weapons.
Darius had a soft spot for the bijuu. They were fragments of the original Ten-Tails, yes, but also individual spirits with their own thoughts and dreams. Watching them get used as bombs always rubbed him the wrong way, but he stayed his hand. This was their world now, not his.
Hashirama had tried to spread the bijuu among the nations equally, hoping to preserve balance.
It didn't work.
War became a way of life, Second Shinobi War, Third Shinobi War, blood soaked the world, and children became soldiers. Nations burned, rebuilt, burned again.
Darius saw it all. He watched the rise of new legends:
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor, young and wise.
Tsunade, Orochimaru, Jiraiya—a trio of prodigies who'd one day shape the world in very different ways.
Minato Namikaze, a golden blur across the battlefield, his smile as bright as his jutsu were deadly.
Kushina Uzumaki, the lively redhead and future jinchūriki of the Nine Tails, had caught Darius' attention early on. Her chakra was wild, vibrant. She had a laugh that made flowers sway. When she and Minato fell in love, it made the old cosmic watcher exhale through his nose.
"Finally," he said once, watching them watch the sunset, "something soft in all this mess."
But as always, softness never lasted. The night that changed everything came unexpectedly. The night Naruto Uzumaki was born...
***
The sky was clear that evening.
Konoha was quiet, tucked in beneath the stars like a sleeping child. Kushina's labor had been carefully timed. She had to give birth in secret, in a sealed chamber with Anbu and the best medical-nin ready. When a jinchūriki gives birth, their seal weakens. If anyone knew… well, it would be catastrophic.
Darius was perched on a cloud just above the village, sipping a cup of sake brewed from star-snow. He'd been waiting for this night. He could feel it in the atmosphere—the tension, the coming tide.
And then…
A masked man cloaked in darkness. Unseen until it was too late. In the blink of an eye, the birthing chamber was torn open. Anbu were slaughtered. Minato's eyes widened with horror as the man appeared behind Kushina, his hand already grasping the weakened seal.
Darius narrowed his eyes, his drink pausing mid-sip.
With brutal precision, the masked man—Obito, though no one knew that yet—ripped Kurama from Kushina's body. The Nine-Tailed Fox howled, towering over the forest, its chakra spiraling like a storm of rage.
He was enormous, majestic, and terrifying. Fur like night-fire, eyes burning with fury, tails lashing at the sky. Kurama roared and the world shook with his fury.
That was when the rest of Darius' family arrived. A flash of light, a shimmering ripple in the air, and five figures emerged through the fabric of space itself.
Ororo's feet touched the edge of the Hokage monument first. Lightning danced across her shoulders, her silver hair swept behind her like silk. Diana stepped beside her, hand on her sword.
Hela appeared with a scoff, brushing her cloak off with dramatic annoyance. "Finally. Took him long enough to pick a vacation spot."
And then came the two youngest.
Verity and Aurama appeared in a blur of laughter and sparkles, riding what looked like a floating sunbeam. The moment their eyes locked on the giant beast in the distance—claws slashing through mountains, chakra turning the sky red—they gasped in unison.
Verity pointed with wild excitement. "Papa! Papa! Look!! Fluffy!"
Aurama clapped, eyes glowing. "I want it! Can we keep it?!"
Darius didn't even turn to look at them. He was watching Minato teleport from spot to spot, trying to get Kurama away from the village. Watching Kushina clutch Naruto, bleeding and gasping but still alive. Watching Obito vanish into the trees, his plan unraveling but not failing.
When Verity yanked his sleeve, he finally glanced down. Her big, sparkly eyes were filled with pure mischief. "Please, Papa? Pretty please with golden sprinkles?"
Aurama was already doing her best pout. "I promise I'll walk it every day!" Darius let out a breath through his nose. "Alright," he said at last.
The sky cracked and timed seemed to pause.
To the mortals below, it would be remembered as a sudden, surreal moment. A presence descending that made even Kurama falter. A figure materialized above the raging beast—a tall man in white, his robes flowing like cloud-banners, hair as bright as starlight, eyes glowing with amusement.
The Fox looked up and froze. Darius smiled lazily, "Hey there, big guy."
Kurama snarled, the chakra around him flickering. Darius raised one hand... that was all it took.
*Boom~.
An invisible wave rippled outward. Trees bent, rocks shattered, the sky cracked further. And the Nine-Tails slammed to the ground with a stunned grunt, pinned by a gravity that didn't obey physics or chakra or reason.
"Don't worry," Darius said casually, floating down until he stood in front of the fox's massive snout. "I'm not here to hurt you. These two"—he gestured back at his squealing daughter and niece—"want a pet."
Kurama's eye twitched. "A pet?" he growled, voice rumbling like thunder. "I am not some household beast!"
"You are now," Verity said, skipping forward with a hug-ready stance. "We're gonna name you… Mr. Fluffums!"
"Absolutely not," Kurama snarled.
"Fuzzy Prince of Boom?" Aurama suggested.
"I'll eat you."
"Oh, he likes that one," she whispered.
Darius turned to the village. The battle had paused. Minato stood with Naruto in his arms, mouth open in shock. Kushina was barely alive, the trauma halted by the sudden appearance of… well, a literal god.
Diana appeared beside him, arms crossed. "You're stepping in now?"
"Just for a minute." Ororo tilted her head. "They're fragile things, these humans."
"That's why I like them."
Darius gently floated toward Minato and Kushina. He offered a warm smile. "I like this kid," he said, looking at the newborn Naruto.
Minato, wide-eyed, said nothing. Neither did Kushina. Words weren't needed. Darius touched Naruto's tiny nose. "I'll leave a little surprise in you. Just in case."
And then, with a wave of his hand, the Nine-Tails vanished—not sealed, not dead, just gone, shrunk and compacted and tucked away into a neat little ribbon-covered void cube that Verity and Aurama now squabbled over holding.
Kurama's distant muffled growl could be heard even from inside it:
"I SWEAR IF YOU CALL ME FLUFFY AGAIN—"
Darius gave the village one last look. He'd intervened, just nudged the story line in a different direction a little. Kurama wouldn't be sealed in Naruto. Minato wouldn't die tonight and leave Naruto an orphan, Obito's plan had failed more spectacularly than he imagined.
He turned to his family. "Let's settle in. This world's interesting"
***
[Two years after the Night of the Nine-Tails]
The night of the Nine-Tails attack was remembered in hushed tones by the people of the Hidden Leaf Village. They spoke of how the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, had single-handedly defeated the beast, pushing it back with a barrage of jutsu and unmatched bravery. They remembered the ground shaking, the fire in the sky, the horrible roar that had torn through the clouds—and then, the sudden silence.
Kurama, the Nine-Tailed Fox, had vanished.
No one remembered the exact moment. The memory always seemed hazy, like a dream interrupted just before the climax. But everyone agreed: Minato was victorious. The Hokage had protected them.
What no one knew—what no one could know—was that reality itself had been rewritten.
Darius was intrigued by this world and wanted to stay, but he was willing to leave if his family didn't like it.
But then Verity and Aurama had fallen in love with the "giant fluffy thing," and Hela had gotten a little too invested in learning the war history of this world.
Diana and Ororo had found the natural scenery stunning, and once Ororo discovered the village had a small patch of climate irregularities she could toy with, she was sold. Even Hela had reluctantly declared the forests "acceptably gloomy."
So Darius had made a decision.
He rewound time—not the actual events, but the memories. Reality stayed the same: Kushina still died from childbirth and having Kurama ripped out of her, Minato still survived, and Kurama still "vanished." But how people remembered that night? That was sculpted like wet clay beneath his fingers.
[A/N: Believe when I say I didn't want Kushina to die. But I couldn't trust myself not to add her to the harem so this was the solution. One parent had to die, for plot]
Every villager remembered Darius and his family as having recently moved into the village a couple years ago.
They remembered the tall white-haired man with robes too regal for a shinobi and manners too relaxed for a noble. They remembered his bakery near the market street, right beside Teuchi's ramen stand, which had only recently been built but had somehow always stood there.
They remembered Hela, the brooding woman with an attitude bad enough to scare Jonins with a single glance.
They remembered Ororo, who could predict rainstorms with creepy accuracy, and Diana, the warrior shinobi from a foreign land. They remembered that both women were married to Darius, as abnornal as it was (coz he ain't a noble) it was readily accepted.
Oh, the bakery. It was called Heaven's Oven, courtesy of Verity.
Its front was a modest wooden façade with a circular stained-glass window showing a smiling loaf of bread being hugged by a star. The smell of baked goods lingered for three streets in every direction.
Early risers were often seen sprinting toward it before the door even opened, desperate to get a warm cinnamon cloudroll or a piping hot spiral cheese bun.
Inside, the bakery was large and warm and always clean. Not a speck of flour out of place, not a crumb left on a table. This wasn't because Darius was overly tidy—it was just easier to wave a hand and have the mess vanish in a sparkle of light.
He didn't even bake like a normal person. No mixing bowls. No measuring.
He would just hum a tune, wave his hand over a tray of ingredients, and a moment later, the dough would rise, twist, braid itself, and fly into the oven.
Sometimes the oven would sing. Sometimes the bread would giggle. No one questioned it.
It was magic, and Konoha ate it up—literally.
Two years passed like this.
Verity and Aurama, now having reverted themselves into mischievous toddlers in their own right, would play outside the shop with wooden kunai and pretend to fight "bread bandits." More often than not, one of them would tackle a customer and demand they pay in stickers instead of coins. [A/N: Its quite known amongst you guys that supernatural children are built different, they age in weird ways.]
Darius never minded. His smile came easy, and laughter seemed to follow him. He walked the village with the air of someone who feared absolutely nothing—not because he was arrogant, but because he was the thing others feared. Not that anyone knew.
He was just "Mr. Darius" now. The tall handsome man who made the good bread.
Minato had started visiting almost daily. At first it was just to buy breakfast. He'd walk in with baby Naruto in one arm, still swaddled and blinking sleepily, and point toward the caramel-honey pastries with a tired nod.
Then he started staying longer. He'd sit near the window, baby Naruto napping on his chest, and just... relax. Something about Darius' presence made the stress of being Hokage melt. It was like walking into a pocket of the world where paperwork didn't exist and nobody needed saving.
"You make peace smell like cinnamon," Minato said once, holding a warm bun in one hand while Naruto clutched the other.
Darius had just chuckled. "That's the secret ingredient."
Their friendship grew slowly but deeply.
Minato never pried. He never asked why Darius' daughters didn't seem to grow or how Kurama—now a miniature fox the size of a large housecat—could talk and levitate spoons when annoyed. He didn't ask why Darius could wave his hand and the shop was sparkling clean.
He didn't ask because some part of him didn't want to know.
Darius, on the other hand, listened. He listened to Minato's stories—of life without Kushina, of raising Naruto alone, of feeling like he'd stolen something from the world by surviving. Of the burden of being a hero.
"You did what you could," Darius said once, leaning over the counter as the ovens whispered behind him.
"I should have died with her," Minato murmured, eyes dull.
"No," Darius replied softly. "Then Naruto would have had no one. And you're a good father, Minato. Probably one of the best."
Minato said nothing. But he came back the next morning.
Naruto grew fast.
By two, he was already running around the village, trying to outrun Anbu guards who were supposed to "casually keep an eye on him." His chakra flared randomly. Sometimes things exploded. Once, the Hokage monument grew a mustache. No one could explain it.
He loved Heaven's Oven. It was his favorite place in the world.
Whenever Minato brought him in, he'd shout, "UNCLE DA!!" and throw himself at Darius' leg like a missile. Verity and Aurama would immediately appear from some hiding spot and drag him off into the kitchen where Kurama—now their very grumpy house-pet—would get dressed up in ridiculous bows and paraded around like a prized pony.
"I was once feared by nations," Kurama muttered through a pacifier one day.
"And now you're a cuddle fox," Verity sang.
"I hate everything," he mumbled, but his tail still curled happily.
In those two years, Darius had found something he hadn't experienced in countless lifetimes across infinite universes:
Peace.
Sure this world was at war almost constantly, but it was a small world. One of 2 planets in this universe that contained life. So most problems just solved themselves.
He still kept his powers. Still maintained the veil around his family's nature. But he let the days pass. He let the girls grow, let the villagers smile, let the warm bread and soft laughter of childhood echo through the alleyways.
***
Somewhere inside, Naruto had just pulled an entire tray of doughnuts off the counter and into his face.
Darius sighed as he floated toward the chaos.
"…That's the fifth tray today."
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A/N: Any harem suggestions? Kaguya is a must obviously.