Minato was in a complete mess internally, unsure how to get along peacefully with Naruto.
Naruto wasn't doing any better.
Yes, technically this body shared blood with Namikaze Minato. But emotionally? They were basically two strangers awkwardly stuck in the same elevator.
Naruto had never actually "had" a father. In his previous life, he'd been an orphan too—but at least no dead Hokage had popped out of his stomach to start a family reunion.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Why is this more troublesome than fighting Danzo?"
With a sigh, Naruto simply exited the sealed space. When in doubt—avoid emotional conversations. Works every time.
He sat at the desk and flipped through the second-hand books he had scavenged from the town market earlier. Cheap paper, faded ink, some pages missing—but they were treasure to him.
Soon, he was immersed in the world of words, completely forgetting the awkward father-son tension.
Reading was his stress relief.
If he hadn't had books, he probably would've ended up like Gaara—mentally snapping under constant hatred, going full sand-coffin psycho mode and losing whatever freedom he had left.
After finishing the old book, Naruto tossed it aside and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Time to think about the future.
First: head to the Land of Uzumaki.
Meet the Uchiha who had already relocated there—Shisui included—and search the ruins of Uzushiogakure for the Uzumaki clan's lost sealing techniques.
In short, he needed power.
And manpower.
The Nine-Tails had once bragged about wanting to roam free in the wilderness forever. Very poetic. Very dramatic.
But after seeing the existence of White Zetsu, that big fox immediately changed his tune.
Turns out even giant chakra monsters don't like being stalked by plant zombies.
Naruto agreed.
White Zetsu was a product of the Ten-Tails. The Nine-Tails was part of the Ten-Tails. And as a Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, Naruto was basically a walking VIP target for:
Nagato.
Obito.
And that manipulative scheming gremlin, Black Zetsu.
No matter how strong he became, he was still growing. He hadn't surpassed the Five Kage yet. Reaching the level of Otsutsuki Kaguya—or the Sage of Six Paths—would take time.
Lots of time.
Which was exactly why he left Konoha.
If he stayed and "grew up normally," he'd probably end up some middle-aged uncle getting power-crept by the next generation and turned into background decoration.
No thanks.
If he was going to survive this world, he needed to stand at least on the level of Otsutsuki Kaguya. Preferably higher.
Only then could he decide his own fate.
That night, after Naruto fell asleep, the Nine-Tails opened one eye inside the sealed space.
It glanced at Minato with an expression that perfectly translated to: "Look at this clown."
"Disappointed?" Kurama said lazily. "Think Naruto's being disrespectful? Not calling you 'Father' with sparkling eyes?"
Minato stayed silent.
Kurama continued, voice colder.
"Naruto suffered more malice in Konoha than you ever imagined. More than Kushina ever did for having red hair."
"The villagers didn't see a child. They saw a demon fox that destroyed their homes."
"If Naruto had never known the truth, maybe it would've been easier. But he knew. He waited. He gave the Third Hokage three years."
"Three years of hope."
"And then he left."
Minato's face darkened.
Kurama smirked.
"When those rumors spread, I already understood Konoha's plan."
"You wanted to create a tragic Jinchūriki. A lonely child who would sympathize with the Tailed Beast. Then—boom—a perfect Jinchūriki."
"But children raised as beasts don't grow up to love villages."
"They grow up closer to beasts."
"And beasts don't make good obedient weapons."
Minato remained silent for a long time.
Then he suddenly smiled.
"Kurama… hearing you defend Naruto like this is strangely comforting."
"You used to argue with Kushina every single day. Now you're protecting her son."
Kurama's eye twitched.
He hated that smile.
That calm, understanding, sunshine Hokage smile.
It made him want to claw something.
But thinking of Naruto's current mood, Kurama suppressed the urge to fight.
For now.
The next morning.
Naruto's spirit body slipped into the sealed space.
Minato and Kurama stood in opposite corners like divorced parents arguing over custody.
After listening for a moment, Naruto almost laughed.
Minato believed Naruto should return to Konoha.
"No matter what happened, Konoha is still your home," Minato insisted. "You can become a Jonin, slowly change the village from within."
That had been Minato's own path—rising from orphan to Fourth Hokage, gathering companions, planning reforms.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Masked man. Nine-Tails incident. Dead on arrival.
Kurama's stance was simpler.
"Konoha treated you like trash. You don't owe them protection."
"Jinchūriki aren't babysitters."
Naruto listened, then quietly exited the sealed space.
He felt oddly amused.
Imagine that—Hokage and Tailed Beast arguing about his future like concerned parents.
Life was weird.
Naruto left the hotel and headed to a carriage station.
"I'd like to go to the border near the coast of the Land of Fire."
The owner shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, no seats left."
Naruto was about to leave when the man squinted at his attire.
"You're a ninja, aren't you?"
Naruto nodded.
The owner immediately straightened his back.
"Well! In that case—our caravan only has samurai guards. No ninja. If you're willing to act as protection, we'll waive your fare and pay you handsomely."
Naruto rubbed his chin.
Free travel. Extra money.
And maybe a few bandits to punch.
"Deal."
At the caravan, Naruto met the other guards.
Calling them "samurai" was generous.
They looked more like wandering ronin—men clinging to a fading era.
Ever since the ninja villages were established and the one-country-one-village system formed, traditional samurai had slowly declined.
Simple reason.
Samurai were fighters.
Ninjas were fighters, mages, assassins, scouts, summoners—and occasional war criminals.
Hard competition.
Now only the Land of Iron truly preserved samurai culture.
The other guards were clearly nervous around Naruto.
In Konoha, a ninja might be just another grunt.
Out here?
He was a walking weapon.
Ordinary people might complain about ninja, but no one questioned their killing ability.
After ticket checks, the convoy began moving toward the coast.
Not long after departure—
A group of men blocked the road ahead, waving clubs and sticks like they were about to audition for "Bandits Who Make Poor Life Choices."
Naruto cracked his neck slightly.
"Well," he muttered, "looks like the trip just got interesting."
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