Chapter Text
Konoha — October 8th
The village of Konoha, Land of Fire, watched over by the carved faces of seven Hokage. A place layered with history, and with the quiet promise of a peaceful future.
It was deep into the night — most had long surrendered to sleep. Yet in one particular building, the lights burned on, as they did every night.
Stacks of paper crowded the desk, tall enough to hide whoever sat behind them. The only thing visible above the towers of documents was a tuft of golden hair.
Click.
The doorknob turned.
A figure entered, carrying yet another stack. They set it down in the one remaining sliver of open space on the desk — a feat worth respecting, finding any open surface in that disaster of a workspace.
"That's the last pile for tonight, Naruto." Nara Shikamaru — the Seventh Hokage's most trusted advisor — spoke to the person buried behind the documents. The shadows under his eyes were dark. His body was worn down.
"Ah… yeah… thanks, Shikamaru." A tired voice rose from behind the stack. The Seventh Hokage, Uzumaki Naruto, peeked his head out to acknowledge his friend. The shadows beneath his eyes were just as dark as Shikamaru's.
Shikamaru dropped onto the sofa. His gaze drifted to a bento box sitting on the side table, wrapped with care. It was obvious Naruto hadn't touched it.
"You haven't eaten anything, have you. You're going to pass out at this rate," Shikamaru said.
"I'll eat once I finish this pile," Naruto answered from behind the documents. He'd lost count of how many times he'd told himself exactly that.
A silence settled over the room.
Shikamaru looked at the mountain of paper. He couldn't even see his friend from where he sat. He exhaled slowly. Part of him worried about Naruto's health — but another part of him knew exactly how much those documents meant to the village.
He had already filtered out everything non-essential. He had helped as much as he could.
"If you could go back," Shikamaru said, breaking the quiet, "would you still choose to become Hokage?"
The scratch of pen on paper stopped.
"…When I was a kid, becoming Hokage was everything. I just wanted the village to acknowledge me — I had no idea what it actually meant. What it cost." Naruto's voice was quiet.
"But… I love this village. I love the people in it. No matter how exhausted I get, I'm ready to give everything for them. If I could go back, I'd make the same choice."
Shikamaru smiled — just slightly — at that answer.
"The only thing I carry guilt over… is leaving the people beside me behind. The ones who held me up… I feel like I've failed Hinata. Boruto. Himawari."
His exhale was audible in the stillness of the room.
"What about you?" Naruto asked. "Temari and Shikadai — are they doing okay?"
"You know how Nara kids are." Shikamaru said with a smile. "As for Temari — I have nothing but gratitude. She's sacrificed so much for our family."
"Ha! But unlike you, he's pretty competitive, isn't he. I've seen him around Boruto."
"He gets that from his mother," Shikamaru replied — and both of them laughed.
POOF.
A burst of smoke erupted from behind the Hokage's desk. The shockwave tore through the room, sending every document flying in all directions.
Shikamaru was on his feet in an instant.
When the smoke finally cleared —
The person sitting before him was no longer his friend the Hokage.
The figure in the chair wore an orange jumpsuit. Golden hair spiked upward. A small frame.
There was no mistaking it — this was his friend.
But the face looking back at him belonged to a thirteen-year-old boy. One that stirred something like memory, like a distant yesterday.
"Naru…to?"
The small figure went still, eyes narrowing as they fixed on him.
"Shikamaru's… dad?" The voice that came out was young — high and thin, like a child's.
Shikamaru's mind moved quickly, running through possibilities. Only one kept surfacing: a prank. But he pushed the thought aside almost immediately. Naruto had grown well past that. There was no way he would pull something like this.
Then the boy seemed to catch up with himself.
"Wait — where am I? How did I get here?" The small figure tensed, sharp ninja instincts kicking in before his mind had fully processed what was wrong. The fact that the man in front of him — the one who looked so much like Shikamaru — still hadn't moved, hadn't said a word, only made it worse.
Blue eyes darted around the room. The door was his only option.
He waited for his moment. The instant the man's gaze drifted inward — lost somewhere in his own thoughts — the small form of Naruto slipped off the chair and moved, circling wide to the opposite side of the room.
The door was within reach.
But his body was locked.
Every muscle seized at once. He couldn't move — frozen mid-reach, fingers outstretched toward the doorknob, unable even to turn his head. His neck wouldn't answer him.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.
"Naruto." The voice came from behind him. "What exactly is going on with you?"
"How would I know?" Even with his body locked in place, his mouth still worked just fine. Naruto twisted the only thing he could — his words. "You tell me. Who even are you? Some uncle of Shikamaru's?"
"Uncle?" Shikamaru flinched at the word.
"How old are you?" He pulled himself together enough to ask the question that actually mattered.
"Hah? Why would I tell you that? Don't think you're getting anything out of me.” Naruto protested.
At the same time, he tried to force chakra through his body and break free of the restraint. It was useless. The man behind him was simply too strong.
Shikamaru exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Listen, Naruto. I know this is strange — for both of us. But I'm Shikamaru. Your friend." He kept his voice even, coaxing, and turned Naruto to face him with a careful shift of the jutsu. "I'm not your enemy."
Naruto stared at the man claiming to be Shikamaru, examining him from head to toe.
“There’s no way Shikamaru could turn into some bearded old man like you. Do you really expect me to believe that?” Naruto scoffed.
A vein twitched on Shikamaru’s forehead. Being repeatedly called an old man by someone who was technically his peer was beginning to test his patience.
"I'd rather not hold you like this any longer than I have to." He nodded toward the couch along the wall. "Why don't we sit down? I'll release the jutsu. We can talk. That work for you?"
Naruto was quiet for a moment, thinking it over.
Then he gave a small nod.
Naruto followed Shikamaru to the couch, blue eyes roaming the room as he walked.
Strange equipment he had never seen before. Devices he couldn't name.
And yet — the room felt oddly familiar. In a way he couldn't explain.
His gaze drifted upward, and stopped.
A framed portrait hung above the door. The first four Hokage he recognized immediately. But the three faces beyond them made his breath catch.
"Tsunade-Baachan… and Kakashi-sensei!?"
In Naruto's memories, he had only recently brought Tsunade back to the village. Seeing her among the Hokage wasn't particularly surprising.
Kakashi, however...
His mind immediately pictured his perpetually late jonin instructor, the man who always seemed to have his nose buried in one of those weird books.
Never—not even once—had Naruto imagined Kakashi becoming Hokage.
Then his eyes reached the last portrait, and his body went still.
Short golden hair. Blue eyes. Three whisker marks on each cheek.
The face was close enough to his own that it made his skin crawl. Naruto stood frozen, staring, eyes wide and unblinking.
Noticing that he had stopped walking, Shikamaru chose not to interrupt. He simply waited, allowing Naruto time to absorb what he was seeing.
"Why are there seven Hokage?" Naruto's voice was distant. His eyes drifted to the seventh portrait and stopped. "And that seventh one…"
He didn't finish. He couldn't.
“This is where things get complicated.”
Naruto slowly turned toward him.
“The Seventh Hokage... is you.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“If you're not putting on some elaborate act,” Shikamaru continued, “then you've somehow ended up in the future.”
Naruto turned to Shikamaru with wide eyes, then quickly turned back and began forming hand signs.
"Kai, Kai — damn it, how do you break a genjutsu again?" he muttered, cycling through what he could remember, convinced everything around him was an illusion.
Shikamaru watched him and couldn't help it — a quiet laugh escaped.
"Hate to break it to you, but this isn't a genjutsu." He said, draping an arm over Naruto's shoulder and steering him back to the couch.
Once they were both seated.
"What do you remember, Naruto?" Shikamaru's voice settled back into something serious.
“Uh...” Naruto scratched his cheek. “I had just brought Tsunade-baachan back to the village, and then I was waiting for my ramen at Ichiraku. Next thing I know, I ended up here.”
Groooowl.
His stomach announced itself the moment food left his mouth.
That pulled another smile out of Shikamaru. He reached over, picked up the neatly wrapped bento box, and held it out.
"Eat. It's yours anyway."
Naruto took it immediately and flipped it open.
His eyes lit up. It wasn't his favourite ramen — but the box in front of him was nothing to complain about. Every piece was arranged with care.
"Itadakimasu." He dug in without hesitation, eating fast — whether from hunger or because everything tasted exactly right, he couldn't tell.
“This is so good!”
He grinned despite still having a mouthful of rice.
“Oh? You think so?” Shikamaru said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Well, your wife made it.”
PFFFT!
Rice exploded from Naruto's mouth.
Fortunately, Shikamaru had seen it coming. With practiced reflexes, he snatched up a nearby tea tray and used it as a shield.
“W-W-W-WIFE!?”
Naruto shot to his feet, face burning bright red.
His voice echoed throughout the room.