Chapter 2: Blending In (Sort of)
If Naruto Uzumaki could have locked his children in a safe, happy little cottage with zero risk of ever encountering a psychotic alien overlord, he would have done it in a heartbeat.
But unfortunately, his children were his children. And Uzumakis didn't exactly have a history of staying out of trouble.
Adventure—it ran in their chakra like a second bloodstream.
Even now, in this forgotten corner of a foreign world, Naruto could sense it in their eyes: the quiet longing to live a story worth telling. To experience what he had experienced, see what he had seen, and fight monsters that didn't look like oversized raccoons with attitude problems.
They wanted more than lazy bandits and wannabe shinobi. They wanted a challenge.
So, like any responsible parent with a flair for overkill, Naruto decided to set up a secret surveillance network and pretend to let them explore.
After all, nothing said "trust and freedom" quite like shadow clones tailing your every footstep.
The town was beginning to feel like home now, or at least like a charming post-apocalyptic summer camp. Himawari had claimed the town's abandoned bakery, declaring it "Uzumaki Base Alpha" and already decorating it with handmade explosive seals disguised as cupcake stickers.
Kawaki had taken up residence in the garage behind what used to be the sheriff's office. It suited him—quiet, shadowed, and conveniently close to tools he could modify into weapons if necessary.
Boruto, of course, had rejected every house with a scoff. Too small. Too dusty. Too many spiders.
"Can we choose the house already?" Boruto groaned for the fourth time, dragging his feet like they were made of stone. "We've been walking in circles for half an hour!"
They had, in fact, only walked down two streets, but Naruto let it slide.
They'd just reached the center of the town, where an old stone statue stood half-buried in weeds. It looked like a weathered mayor or perhaps a very enthusiastic dentist. Time had taken its toll—one arm had fallen off, the face was chipped, and someone had scrawled "JIM SUCKS" on the back in what looked suspiciously like raccoon pawprints.
Naruto stopped in front of it and placed a palm against the base.
"From now on," he said calmly, "I'll be teaching you many things. So watch carefully… and learn."
Boruto blinked. Wait… what?
The statue rumbled. Dust spiraled upward as the old stone melted into shape, twisting and reforming until a tall pillar of polished blackened stone stood in its place. Runes etched in glowing red spirals flickered to life along its surface—Uzumaki sealing marks, elegant and complicated, slowly unfolding like blooming flowers.
Boruto's mouth actually fell open.
He'd always thought of Fuinjutsu as one of those weird niche topics, like mushroom farming or tax law. But watching it happen in real time was... kind of awesome.
'Old man probably doesn't even know how to hold a sword,' he thought absently. 'But this? This could be useful.'
Despite his earlier whining, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
To the side, Kawaki was already analyzing the seals, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't say much, but Naruto knew he was watching—quietly absorbing every detail.
Himawari was bouncing on her heels, practically glowing with excitement. "Oooh! Dad, did you use a double-layered visual suppression seal with the nested alarm loop or the perimeter illusion with shadow inversion?"
Naruto blinked at her. "You've been reading my scrolls again, haven't you?"
"Maaaaaaybe."
Hinata, ever the supportive wife and low-key jutsu genius, simply leaned against a lamppost and smiled as if this was the most romantic thing Naruto had done all week.
"This," Naruto said, gesturing to the pillar as more seals bloomed across its surface, "is our first line of defense. A barrier seal with three effects: optical illusion for those outside, chakra-masking for those inside, and a ping alert if anyone stumbles into the perimeter."
"Only basic level?" Kawaki asked quietly.
"Yeah. We don't want to draw attention yet. Complex seals have complex footprints. This is subtle. Functional. Invisible."
"Like Mu," Boruto muttered, suddenly remembering the silent assassin they'd studied.
Naruto nodded, pleased. "Exactly. The best ninja aren't loud. They don't blow things up to make a point."
Himawari raised her hand. "But we can blow things up if it's for a point, right?"
"...Yes," Naruto sighed. "If absolutely necessary."
-------------------------------
If there was one thing Boruto Uzumaki was absolutely, positively certain of in life—it was that his father was not a sword guy.
The man had fists like meteors, hair that defied gravity, and a track record of punching interdimensional aliens in the face. But swords? Too elegant. Too pointy. Too… clean.
So when Naruto announced that he would personally teach his children—specifically Fuinjutsu—Boruto's first instinct was to scoff.
And yet, the words hit him like a hidden shuriken to the chest.
"From now on, I'll be teaching you many things. So watch carefully… and learn."
The wind shifted around the town square. Dust swirled. The air changed.
And for once… Boruto shut up.
You see, as Uzumakis, Boruto, Himawari, and even Kawaki (by bond, if not by blood) had one glaring problem in common:
They were terrible at sealing techniques.
Not bad. Not average. Terrible.
Their family tree practically bloomed with legends of chakra chains, unbreakable barriers, and time-space scrolls so complex they made ordinary shinobi weep. The Uzumakis were meant to be terrifying fuinjutsu masters with traps woven into the air and spells sealed into their hair clips.
And yet here they were: three bright children who couldn't even anchor a basic five-point seal without the parchment catching fire or the ink exploding.
Naruto couldn't blame them.
He had been the same.
He'd spent his childhood being told he was too loud, too wild, too hopeless. His heritage had been buried with the fall of Uzushio, and by the time he learned what "Fuinjutsu" even was, he was already fighting gods and dodging death on a weekly basis. It wasn't until much later—long after pain and war and reconciliation—that he'd claimed his legacy as an Uzumaki.
Now, finally, he had a chance to pass that legacy on.
Boruto stared at the glowing pillar of seals still humming gently in the center of the town. His father stood beside it with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned not from books, but through years of bruised fingers, burnt eyebrows, and seals gone very wrong.
He didn't look like the man who had once been too busy to come home.
He looked like a teacher.
Boruto swallowed the lump in his throat.
He had never admitted it aloud, but his childhood had been a blur of silent admiration and aching disappointment. Naruto Uzumaki—the father who belonged to everyone, but rarely to him.
He'd learned Rasengan from Konohamaru. Basic jutsu from Hinata. Advanced chakra control from textbooks. Even Sasuke, his reluctant second father figure, had been the one to help him find his style—though Boruto had stubbornly rejected Hinata's gentle Hyuga techniques and failed to properly honor her legacy.
Now, he finally knew.
He wanted to be a sword-user.
Not because it was flashy. Not because Sasuke was. But because something about it clicked. The balance. The discipline. The sharp edge between control and chaos.
He wasn't sure what his father could teach him in that department, but sealing—sealing was something else.
Seals could change the world.
-------------------------------
Naruto Uzumaki, former Hokage, living legend, and occasional demolition hazard, had never considered himself much of an architect.
But, well, when one could control wood, earth, water, fire, and metaphysical sealing arts that bent reality on a good day, designing a house wasn't exactly rocket science.
So after finishing his protective seal—a sprawling sensory net stitched into the very bones of the town—Naruto stood tall, cracked his knuckles, and slammed his palm to the ground with the easy grace of someone conjuring miracles between breakfast and dinner.
A warm wave of chakra pulsed into the earth like sunlight spilling through deep soil.
And the ground responded.
Grass sprouted first, dancing like green lightning in fast-forward. Then came thick oak-like trees, their trunks coiling and stretching to the sky like they'd been waiting for centuries to return. On one side of the town square, a small vegetable garden burst into being, complete with tomatoes, carrots, and something suspiciously close to ramen herbs.
Himawari clapped her hands in delight. Kawaki blinked slowly, as if still trying to decide whether this counted as farming or some kind of jutsu-level cheating.
Boruto opened his mouth to say something sarcastic about how the plants probably had better combat stats than most rogue shinobi.
Then thought better of it.
"Choose a house," Naruto said, turning toward them with a proud grin. "Or would you rather I build a new one?"
Hinata had already explored most of the town earlier. Her Byakugan had swept every abandoned house from attic to crawlspace.
"I believe a new one is needed," she said politely but firmly. "None of these are... suitable."
Translation: she didn't want to sleep in someone else's creepy attic, even if they were probably dead and had left behind a perfectly good armchair.
Naruto nodded in agreement. "Right. We'll build one that suits us."
A training room, weapon storage, reinforced foundations, meditation garden, and a library full of sealing scrolls weren't exactly standard fare in American frontier ghost towns.
"Father," Himawari called suddenly, her voice bright and certain, "can we have our house there?"
She pointed to the old patrol station at the edge of the plaza, its roof slightly caved in and its front porch half-swallowed by creeping ivy.
Naruto followed her finger, and his smile grew even wider.
"As you wish."
With a deep breath, Naruto walked to the center of the chosen spot. He closed his eyes, reaching inward, concentrating.
He didn't just imagine a house—he willed it. The shape, the rooms, the feel of warm wood under barefoot steps. The echo of laughter in the hallway. The weight of family. Of love.
Then, with a soft pulse of chakra, he released it all.
The patrol station sank into the ground as if politely excusing itself. In its place, a house began to grow.
Not like construction. Not like a building being made.
But like life.
Wood burst from the earth like liquid architecture, rising and twisting, shaping itself into sturdy walls and curved eaves. Windows opened like eyes. A wide porch curled around the front. The scent of fresh cedar filled the air.
This was not just any wood.
This was Uzumaki Wood—grown from his peak-strength Wood Release, the kind of material that could outlast earthquakes, wars, and quite possibly the end of the planet.
In front bloomed a small flower garden, carefully spaced with calming violet blooms and brilliant red petals. Two elegant trees offered shade. At the entrance, nestled like silent guardians, stood two carved statues: one of a sleeping lion, and the other a curled nine-tailed fox.
Boruto stared at the house in stunned silence. "...Okay. That was cool."
"Alright, kids," Naruto clapped his hands. "Let's get inside, unpack, and after that—small walk around the area. Recon mission. Civilian clothes. No kunai in the open, Boruto."
"I only brought, like, four," Boruto muttered.
"I will choose my room first!" Himawari yelled, already bolting for the porch.
"No, I will!" Boruto raced after her, nearly tripping on the garden fence.
"I don't care!" Kawaki called after them, arms crossed, refusing to move. Typical.
Naruto chuckled and turned to the silent boy. "You're not going?"
"Father," Kawaki said quietly, "I don't mind such things. Let them pick. I'll take whatever is left."
"You're really mature," Naruto said, ruffling his hair fondly. "Look after your siblings, alright?"
Kawaki's chest tightened slightly. He nodded.
"I will protect them."
Naruto paused—just a moment—and then placed a hand on Kawaki's shoulder.
"I know you will."
---------------------------------
It was, perhaps, the strangest sight the ghost town had ever seen: a legendary war hero and three highly-trained shinobi… trying to blend in by wearing jeans and sneakers.
In the living room—now decorated with a mix of seal-scroll shelves, houseplants, and a hand-painted "No Explosions Inside" sign made by Himawari—the Uzumaki children sat cross-legged on a shaggy rug while their father stood before them like a mission commander in comfy slacks.
Naruto's shirt read: WORLD'S #1 DAD (Believe It!)—a gift from Himawari that he insisted on wearing because "it had sentimental value," despite Boruto's pained expression every time he saw it.
"We will now commence an information gathering mission," Naruto said solemnly, hands clasped behind his back like he was giving a lecture at the Academy. "This means you must be cautious. Lay low. No flashy moves. No chakra spikes. And definitely no explosive traps, Hima."
Himawari nodded innocently while hiding something behind her back that suspiciously sparkled.
"This world is filled with people who don't use chakra, but they have powers of their own. Some are dangerous. Some are confused. And some just wear their underwear outside their pants."
Boruto snorted. "So basically, a normal Tuesday."
"Since this is your first field mission in an unfamiliar dimension," Naruto continued, completely ignoring the sarcasm, "I'll guide you. Follow my lead, observe, and blend in with the civilians."
Hinata entered, wiping her hands on a towel, her hair pulled back in a gentle bun that somehow made her even more radiant. She looked at the group of mismatched ninja-children and their relaxed yet somehow world-endingly powerful father, and her heart swelled with a kind of contentment she hadn't felt in years.
"Dear," she said softly, stepping up beside Naruto, "I won't be joining today. There's still much to organize inside, and besides…" Her lavender eyes sparkled. "You deserve this. Time with them. Without paperwork or summon scrolls."
Naruto blinked, then gave her a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Hinata. I'll bring them back safe."
She reached up, fixed his collar, and whispered, "Or else."
Boruto grimaced. Kawaki looked impressed. Himawari giggled.
As the group prepared to head out, Boruto was already halfway through tying his sneakers the wrong way.
"You didn't mind staying back, Mom?" Himawari asked, pausing at the door, fingers fidgeting.
Hinata leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "It's your turn now, sweetie. Go see the world. I'll be right here, waiting with lunch."
And just like that, the hesitation faded. Himawari nodded, straightened her back, and turned toward the road like she was ready to spy on the entire country.
-------------------------
One moment, they were standing on the dirt road outside a forgotten ghost town.
The next?
Metropolis.
Not the bustling downtown core where news helicopters soared and capes fluttered on the skyline—but a quiet patch of woodland on the outskirts. A moment between blinks, between heartbeats, and they were there. Leaves rustled gently in the morning wind, the skyscrapers distant silhouettes, shining silver and steel in the summer haze.
"Good," Naruto said, glancing around and patting down the kids' hoods. "Now we'll begin from here. Just follow me—and try not to look suspicious."
Boruto immediately shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to walk like someone who definitely wasn't suspicious. Kawaki just nodded, already scanning the area with an assassin's calm. Himawari waved at a squirrel.
None of them noticed that one of the two Narutos standing there was a clone.
The real Naruto had come with the kids, of course. The clone had stayed behind, standing quietly behind Hinata on the porch of their newly grown home.
And he was quiet now—too quiet.
"I'm really a shitty person," the clone muttered, the words tumbling out like stones from a too-heavy backpack. "And my actions… I've made it really hard on you."
Hinata didn't look startled. She didn't sigh, or weep, or accuse.
She simply turned, and wrapped her arms around him.
"You've been a terrible family head," she said softly. "But your duty was important. I won't lie and say it didn't hurt… but I understood."
Her voice was like warm honey on a winter's day—gentle, slow, and healing.
"So," she continued, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, "if now you can finally rest… just stay with us… just be here... that's enough for me."
Naruto didn't cry.
Not quite.
But something in him—something that had been curled tight for years, like a fist braced for another blow—finally loosened.
"I'll make it up to you," he whispered. "I'll bring back joy… and adventure… and stupid fun. All of it. We haven't made good memories in so long."
"You better," Hinata teased, before rising on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'll be looking forward to it."
And with that, she turned—graceful as ever—and stepped back into the house, the wooden door shutting with a soft click behind her.