Chapter 1: Golden Child

Warning: (M) Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Blood, and Injury.

Rating: (T-M) Not for Kids.

Pairings: None as of right now. Probably just the Canon stuff.

Summary: There is a man with a sunny smile who appears amidst the impending doom of death. Nobody knows his name, neither do they know where he comes from nor where he goes. He comes in a flash, they say. Like a Ghost. Like... a God. Or, in the middle of the fight with Kaguya, Uzumaki Naruto lands in the world of Attack on Titan after falling through a portal.

A/N: do you guys notice i like naruto?

yeah... anyway here i am. Writing another story instead of updating my other ones.

Hope y'all enjoy it!


[. . .]


"This is what happens when you grow up deep in the dark, deep from trauma."


[. . .]


Chapter 1

Golden Child


[. . .]


Wall Maria had fallen to the Titans after the barrier around Shiganshina was torn apart.

Unlike any of the tragic incidents of the past, this unprecedented catastrophe formed a domino effect of tribulations. Terror swept through the population, exploding a conundrum of horror and anguish in its wake. Those who had escaped had turned to the very same wall that would be broken open all the same, creating a devastating loss for Humanity in the year 845.

Weeks after the attack, people fled to Wall Rose in a desperate attempt to conserve their lives. The rush of refugees overwhelmed the available capacity, causing a scarce economic downfall and rapidly forming famine that plummeted the overall morale.

The food shortage enabled a plan to enact a reclaim on Wall Maria. In the aftermath of the operation of the Survey Corps, approximately 250,000 soldiers and civilians were sent to fight back for the enormous land mass that they lost. Of those 250,000, less than two hundred made it back alive. This resulted in the loss of a fifth of the total population of the Walls, alleviating the famine, but destroying most if not all hope in this cruel world.

In the following months, life was forced to return to normal. People mourned the loss of those they loved as they went about their every day, unable to shake off the traumatic grief that ruined the previous life they once held.

Formed expeditions became much more of a call after Erwin Smith became Commander and led more of a partial success rate for the Winged Scouts of Freedom.

A high demand came into practice for Humanity's Strongest Soldier the next year, after an impressive demonstration of prowess that had twelve Titans killed in a single ongoing row. Humanity's New Hope, they said. The Best of the Best.

Until a year later, when Scouts began to report the light of God's Golden embrace flickering about in the wake of approaching death. One fateful expedition, two years after Wall Maria fell, the first excursion outside Wall Rose became the highest known survival count in their alternating History.

"I saw God," A Scout that would've lost his head had said the following week while resting, telling a disbelieving tale to his fellow companions huddled around a fire. "A man. He was a man, I'm sure of it. Golden Hair, with Gold robes and the power of one thousand men."

Those listening in murmured amongst each other. Some doubted. Others sympathized. Most were in awe.

The man continued, breathless and wide-eyed. "I... I lost my leg. Titan bit it right off. But... But he had grown it back. Like nothing," He whispered, and by demonstration he rolled up his pant leg, displaying the rounded scar around his thigh.

Many gasped.

Thickly swallowing, the man rubbed his burning eyes building up tears as the fabric fell to cover his fresh new leg. "The Hand of God reached for me. I expected to be taken away, to God's embrace. It was my... my time, I thought," He felt a comforting palm land on his shoulder. "But. But I was alive. I lived. I... God was there. God saved me."

The story among the scouts became famous. Revolutionary, even. They had begun building shrines as more welcomed in their tales of the mythical savior of golden mass. Some began to pray, and the Priests took sublime greed for the news of God finally approaching their time of need. Hope prevailed brighter than before, and for once, any doubt of God had cemented into a firm belief that in true finality, their Savior was here.

A gigantic forming circle began a melodic chant every morning by the entrances of Wall Rose. Participants would call to this God of theirs, begging for salvation and leaving offerings. Food, for the most part.

Even if they starved.

At the top, where said offerings were left off, the Guards watched them lay their promises on the ground. Shifts were exchanged, and the Guards of the evening would wait with bated breath for the stories to be made a reality.

"I saw God," One would holler every other week after that tradition, hyperventilating and weightless. "I saw God!"

The offerings were gone.

Many believed.

It was true, they said. Their God accepted their offerings, and they were saved.

They were finally saved.

(No one knew where the food went in actuality but those with children and the sick. Mothers and Fathers would wake up with food on their front doors, and the children would claim they saw a golden spark lighting up their scary nights with wonderous safety. Those with terminal illnesses would wake up better every following day, grandiose and softer with the belief that their prayers were being answered.)

Soon, as the seasons passed and time became a better future, everyone claimed to have had at least one encounter with the God of Humanity.

Made-up stories and rumors circulated like a spreading disease.

But who had the authority to denounce them?

To denounce God?

No, they were protected, now.

"Where has He been these past hundreds of years?" An old man would spit, angered and tired. "Where was our savior when we needed Him most?"

Nobody had answers. Nobody liked what the old man had to say.

But among the Nobody were those who silently agreed. Among the Nobody were spectators who watched a growing crowd set fire to the Old Man's cottage for badmouthing their God.

Among the Nobody were people who had seen the sight of a shining smile the very next night, leaving behind a rebuilt cottage and food for the old man that had damned His very name.

"Most Gracious," They would cry.

"Most generous," They would claim.

"Most loved," They would promise.

To them, their God is finally here.

To them, their God is a promise.

To them, their God is hope.

To Uzumaki Naruto...

"Huh," The elusive teenager would mutter, tilting his head as he observes the crusade of men and women alike on horseback, making their way to a set of giant Humanoids he has been attempting to grasp an understanding of for about four months now since he up and transported here.

He watches, follows with his head, crouching with deliberate consideration.

"Who runs into danger like that, datteba'yo..." He mutters with a worrying pout, flickering out of existence just to hop in and out of the trees right next to them. The Golden Child doesn't understand the irony of his words, it seems.

And also, it seems, said Uzumaki Naruto does not understand just how huge his namesake has become.

To Uzumaki Naruto, their God is him.


[. . .]


To Erwin Smith, the sight of this new God just works in his favor. He, out of the spare few who have yet to meet with this so-called Savior, waits patiently for His appearance. He knows not if this is true, but he is a fool to think that his men have been dying less because of his good commandmanship.

No, Erwin Smith is precise.

He knows what is real and what isn't, and this will simply be either a confirmation or a revelation.

Decided, then.

He waits, eyes searching for the mythical gold that is meant to save him.

"You're fucking delusional," Levi hisses, riding with the man who placed reluctant orders upon him.

Erwin simply hums as he locks eyes with a Titan lunging at his group of soldiers he has risked this exact reason for.

Levi condemns him with his eyes, but he does not move.

Erwin has earned enough of his trust.

As he hears his soldiers gasp and begin to wail the extremities of the situation, Erwin sharpens his eyes.

The world stops.

He waits.

And the Titan does not connect.

Abruptly, insanely, a giant golden hand captures it and throws it far off course from them. The speed is so spectacular that even a small shift of eyes could prevent you from noticing it.

The battalion doesn't stop despite their gasps and screams at the sudden appearance, and Erwin watches.

He scrutinizes, trails after the glowing, translucent arm, and locks eyes with a burning, kind blue upon a tree right up ahead.

A smile forms.

'There he is.'


[. . .]


A/N: Hehe.

Toodles~

Ana.