A.N. This is another story:
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Chapter One: The Hokage Who Packed His Bags
There was a sort of hush in the Hokage residence, the kind that usually meant one of three things: (1) someone had broken a family heirloom, (2) Boruto was about to get scolded, or (3) Naruto Uzumaki had made yet another life-altering decision without properly warning anyone first.
It was, of course, the third.
Naruto—seventh Hokage, world saviour, full-time paperwork magnet—sat at the head of the long, slightly scratched dining table that had somehow survived two generations of chaotic children and one particularly enthusiastic ramen night. He had that look on his face again. The "I've-just-decided-something-enormous-and-everyone's-going-to-hate-it-but-I'm-doing-it-anyway" look. A very specific breed of Uzumaki stubbornness that not even shadow clones could talk him out of.
"I've thought this through for a long time," he began solemnly, fingers steepled like a monk contemplating enlightenment—or perhaps just trying to hide the ink stains on his sleeves. "And the only solution to our problem... is to leave this land."
A pause. A breath. A dropped fork.
"WHAT!" yelled Boruto, leaping to his feet so fast his chair went clattering backwards with all the grace of a startled deer. "Are you serious?! You want us to just leave Konoha? Like—forever?"
"Two to three years, not forever," Naruto corrected calmly, as if they were discussing a mild vacation to the Sand Village and not abandoning their entire way of life. "We need peace. And in this world, that's becoming impossible."
Himawari squealed in delight, clapping her hands like she'd just been told they were going on a rollercoaster. "Yay! Can I bring my brush pens? And my cactus? Oh—and the big cat plushie! Not the small one, the one with the—"
"Yes, sweetheart," Naruto said, already slightly overwhelmed.
Kawaki, who had the emotional expressiveness of a stone on most days, merely nodded. This wasn't surprising. He'd faced far worse than interdimensional travel, and if Naruto said they were going, then they were going. Loyalty looked different on Kawaki—it didn't shout or cry, it simply existed like gravity: silent, certain.
Hinata, however, placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm. Her eyes, soft and lavender as ever, were clouded with concern.
"Are you sure, dear?" she asked quietly. "You've been so tired lately. Maybe this is just... stress talking?"
"It's not just that," Naruto replied, more gently this time. "I've discovered another world. A place we can live without being hunted, hailed, or hounded every ten seconds. Where I won't be dragged back into duty every time someone breaks a teacup or misfiles a report."
"Still sounds like you're running away," Boruto muttered. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, the classic pose of a teenager trying very hard not to feel anything.
Naruto turned to him, his voice losing the Hokage weight and becoming just... a dad's voice.
"You told me to spend more time with the family. Well, here it is. A proper chance. Sacrifices have to be made, Boruto. We can't have everything. But I promise—we'll come back. Stronger, happier. Whole."
"Not going," Boruto mumbled again.
"You are," Naruto said firmly. "My word is final. Get ready. We're leaving in an hour."
And just like that, the meeting was over.
Boruto huffed off with his usual dramatic flair (a solid 7/10), Himawari skipped away to begin packing (with three plushies now), and Kawaki stood in the doorway silently, watching them all with unreadable eyes.
Hinata, ever composed, started making sandwiches.
Because no matter how many universes one planned to travel through, a mother knew—no journey began without a full lunchbox.
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Naruto Uzumaki was not the kind of man who knew how to quit.
He had once headbutted a god, befriended demons, and reformed mass murderers through the sheer power of talk-no-jutsu. But retirement? Personal boundaries? Saying no to work?
Those things, clearly, were harder than beating Madara.
So it came as a mild shock to everyone—especially the other Kage, and very especially to Sasuke—that Naruto, Hero of the Fourth Great War, Master of the Shadow Clone Paperwork Empire, and arguably the most stubborn man alive, decided to… leave.
Just like that.
Poof. Gone.
But to understand why, you had to rewind a bit. Back to the beginning. Back to the part where things had gone slightly off the rails.
For a while, things had been peaceful. The kind of peace that tasted like burnt miso ramen and smelled vaguely of ink and council meetings. Naruto, having defeated Kaguya, was hailed as a global hero. Parades were held, statues were sculpted (some quite unflattering), and every child with spiky hair declared they wanted to grow up to be like him.
Except Boruto, of course.
But peace, as Naruto would often mutter while elbow-deep in mission scrolls, was boring. Or at least, temporary.
It started small. A few books on advanced chakra theory. Long conversations with specialists. Then, visits to ancient ruins. Training under barrier masters. Sparring with monks. Memorizing the entire Shinobi Historical Compendium Volume I to XXIV.
And then Toneri happened. Floating eyes. Moon castles. Prophecies. The usual.
That was when Naruto decided to go from "a bit serious" to "one missed meal away from becoming a chakra-powered cryptid."
His days blurred into training, learning, researching. His nights were filled with surveillance missions, seal refining, and battling cosmic parasites in secret. He even studied under Kabuto for medical ninjutsu—though he insisted on meeting at a neutral location "far, far away from any creepy orphan basements."
And because he was Naruto, he did all this on top of being Hokage.
Shadow clones were everywhere. In meetings. At the hospital. Buying groceries. Teaching academy students. Writing apology letters to Hinata. He was the Hokage of a thousand faces—literally—and it nearly killed him. Multiple times.
Overworked? Definitely. Obsessed? Undeniably. But he couldn't stop. Not when people were dying. Not when the world still wasn't safe. Not when the next Otsutsuki could drop from the sky like a glorified alien pineapple at any moment.
Could anyone blame him for trying?
Unfortunately, yes. Mostly his family.
Boruto had stopped speaking to him outside of passive-aggressive grunts. Himawari would sometimes ask if the clone at dinner was "Real Dad™ or Discount Dad™." And Kawaki—stoic, dangerous Kawaki—said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.
Naruto knew he was failing them. He had promised Hinata the kind of love that changed destinies. Promised Boruto a future brighter than his own. Promised to be the dad he never had.
But the Otsutsuki never cared about promises.
Then came Momoshiki.
The fight was brutal. Unrelenting. Naruto barely won—and he didn't walk away unscathed. For the first time in years, he truly believed he would die.
That night, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Naruto went home. Not a clone. Him.
He tucked Himawari into bed. Ate dinner without a briefing scroll in hand. Watched the stars beside Hinata and didn't once think about dimensional rifts.
For a while, he tried to stay.
But the peace didn't last. It never did.
And then Isshiki came.
The battle was apocalyptic. Streets were leveled. Skies split. Naruto fought like a man who had nothing left to lose—and for a moment, he almost didn't make it. But in the end, the Otsutsuki was gone. Dead. Defeated.
It should have been the end.
It wasn't.
Naruto knew better than to think threats disappeared just because you couldn't see them. And he couldn't leave his family behind to deal with what came next.
He had visited other dimensions before—accidentally, at first, thanks to a rogue portal and one very cranky sage toad. But now? Now he had mapped them. Charted them. Tracked the flow of life chakra between worlds.
And one of those worlds… had people. Strange people. Powerful people. Heroes.
They wore capes. Flew through the skies. Stopped meteors with their faces. But most importantly, they had no idea what a Rasengan was. Which meant no one knew who Naruto Uzumaki was.
It was perfect.
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The day the Uzumaki family left the world behind, there was no parade, no fanfare, and certainly no press release.
Naruto had insisted.
"Last thing I need is a dramatic goodbye where someone cries and I end up staying because I feel guilty," he'd said, stuffing emergency ramen packs into a scroll as Himawari tried to cram in all three of her cactus plants ("They have names, Papa!").
And so, under the soft blush of dawn, the Hokage and his family slipped out of Konoha like quiet shadows. If shadows wore bright orange cloaks, carried dimension-traveling scrolls, and argued over who got to hold the toothbrush case.
But of course, a few people had shown up.
Because of course they did.
Konohamaru, wearing his Monkey Sage robes (which were slightly too big and definitely dramatic), stood tall—or as tall as someone can look while blinking back tears and trying not to trip on a summoning scroll.
"I won't let you down, Boss," he said, saluting so fiercely he whacked himself in the forehead. "You've trained me for this moment! I'll protect the village, sign the documents, and probably... accidentally destroy the filing system at least twice. But I'll learn!"
Naruto chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You're ready, Konohamaru. And remember, absolutely no exploding clones in the office this time."
"Once!" Konohamaru protested. "That happened once—and it was a very confused Tuesday!"
Sasuke stood nearby, arms crossed, face schooled into his usual mix of brooding contemplation and I-tolerate-you fondness. He hadn't said much that morning, but when Naruto approached, he gave a small nod and muttered:
"If I see your face here before three years are up... I'll assume it's a clone. And explode it."
"I'll miss you too, Teme," Naruto grinned.
Sakura, rolling her eyes and wiping away a tear with equal subtlety, added, "Seriously, Naruto. If you come back early, I will punch you. And I will break something important."
"Such loving friends," Hinata whispered softly beside him, holding his hand with a small smile.
Tsunade snorted and downed a sake bottle from the early morning stash she absolutely didn't hide in her robes.
"Take your break, brat," she said, ruffling his hair like the oversized grandmother she was. "You've earned it ten times over. And if you even think about sending a report, I'll come over there and chain you to a hammock."
Shikamaru yawned and waved lazily. "Troublesome as ever, Naruto. But... thank you. For everything. Don't worry about the mess. We'll keep things running—and not let the village burn down."
"That's so comforting, Shikamaru," Naruto deadpanned.
"Just being realistic."
Gaara, quiet and composed as always, approached last. His hand clasped Naruto's in a rare show of warmth.
"You're allowed to be happy," he said softly. "You've carried the weight long enough. Now let it go. Just for a little while."
Naruto's smile faltered just a little—because Gaara always knew the exact words that cut straight to the soul—but he nodded, heart full.
"I'll come back," he said, voice low. "But not before three years. Deal?"
"Deal," Iruka said, suddenly hugging him from behind like it was the Academy graduation all over again. "And if you break it, Naruto..."
"I know, I know—you'll explode the clone."
The group burst out laughing.
As the swirling golden portal opened and the wind picked up, Naruto turned to face them one last time.
"Take care of our world," he said. "And don't forget me."
"We won't," Sakura promised.
"Not a chance," Konohamaru said, already scribbling "Hokage's Vacation: Day 1" in a notebook titled The Great Monkey Chronicle.
"See you in three years," Sasuke muttered. "Unless the world ends."
"Even then," Naruto said with a grin, "just wait three years."
And with that, the Uzumaki family stepped into the light—into a new world, a new chapter.
The portal closed behind them with a soft hum.
For the first time in decades, the Hokage's office was silent.
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It was a strange thing, travelling between worlds.
No flashing lights. No kaboom. Not even a puff of smoke.
Just a soft whoosh, like a page turning in a very large, very ancient book—and then the Uzumaki family stepped into silence.
They stood at the edge of what could only be described as a forgotten town. Wooden buildings leaned like tired old men. Rusted signs creaked in the wind. A general store with the 'E' missing from its sign looked like it hadn't sold anything since the invention of socks.
In short, it was... delightfully miserable.
"This place smells like history class and regret," Boruto muttered, arms crossed, face scrunched like he'd just walked into a ramen shop that only served salad.
"Gee, I wonder if this place even has internet... or humans, for that matter."
"Don't worry," Kawaki said, not even looking up from the broken window he was inspecting. "There's no internet strong enough to make you smarter anyway."
"Why you boot-licker—!"
"Whiny brat."
"Stop," Naruto muttered, in a tone so casual that it might have been mistaken for boredom—if not for the bone-crushing weight of his chakra that immediately hit the two boys like an invisible mountain.
Boruto froze mid-snarl. Kawaki's smirk twitched, then locked in place like a badly paused video.
They weren't in pain. Just... unable to move. At all. Not even a wiggle.
"Hmm," Naruto said mildly. "That's better."
From behind him, a giggle slipped out like a songbird escaping its cage.
Himawari, bright-eyed and eleven, looked utterly enchanted. Her shoes crunched on the dusty gravel as she twirled in place, eyes wide and sparkling as they took in every inch of the ghost town.
"This is so cool! It's exactly how I imagined adventuring would be! Ruins! Dust! Dramatic arguing!"
Her voice echoed off cracked walls and old porch railings.
"Are we staying here or moving out?" Hinata asked, scanning the horizon with her Byakugan active. Her gaze drifted across crumbling buildings and long-abandoned roads, not a soul in sight for at least twenty miles. "There's nothing alive nearby. Not even birds."
Naruto nodded. "Exactly why I chose it. We'll make this our starting base. Scout out the region. Blend in slowly."
He took a deep breath and turned serious.
"This world… it's different. It's brimming with strong energy—beings who don't use chakra but have powers of their own. I've felt at least five city-level energy signatures without even trying. So starting now, everyone here is going to act like real shinobi."
Boruto blinked. "Wait… you mean like actual missions? Danger? People who fight back?!"
"Hard missions only," Naruto said with a grin. "No more kitten rescues."
For the first time in days, Boruto forgot he was sulking. His eyes lit up, and his arms uncrossed.
'Finally,' he thought. 'No more being protected, no more always being the Hokage's kid. Just me, on the field, doing real stuff.'
Kawaki, still frozen in place, hummed nonchalantly. He didn't care much what Naruto planned. As long as they were together, he was fine. Besides, danger was practically his bedtime story.
Naruto released the pressure, and the boys finally moved again, both pretending they hadn't just been spiritually flattened by one word from their dad.