Reset

Naruto sat on a cold, jagged rock, the harsh wind whipping his long red hair across his face. His once bright blue eyes, now dulled by the weight of countless sins, stared blankly at his reflection in the ocean's surface. The water, dark and endless, mirrored the emptiness inside him. Waves crashed against the shore, their relentless rhythm a cruel reminder of the time that had passed—six years since he had reduced Iwa, Kiri, and Kumo to dust and ashes. Six years since he had become the very monster he had sworn to fight against.

Two hundred thousand souls had perished by his hands. Men, women, children—innocents who had no part in the war, who had done nothing to deserve the horrors he had unleashed upon them. The memories of their screams, their pleas for mercy, haunted him day and night. He had slaughtered them all in a blind rage, driven by vengeance and grief. And yet, here he was, alive, when they were all dead. The irony wasn't lost on him. He had sought revenge, believing it would bring him peace, but instead, it had left him hollow, a ghost of the person he once was.

"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the ocean. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until they drew blood, but the pain was nothing compared to the anguish that tore at his soul. "Why... why did I do it?"

His reflection in the water stared back at him, accusing, a twisted version of the boy he used to be. The boy who had dreamed of becoming a hero, of being loved and respected by his village. That boy was long gone, replaced by a man whose hands were stained with the blood of hundreds of thousands. Naruto closed his eyes, but the images of his victims were burned into his mind—faces contorted in terror, bodies broken and lifeless.

The last six years had been nothing but a descent into madness. After obliterating Iwa, Kiri, and Kumo, Naruto had returned to Konoha, only to find that the village he had once called home was no more. Suna, in a desperate bid to seize power, had broken their peace treaty and launched a surprise attack on Konoha. In their defence, Konoha had annihilated Suna, but not before Konoha was left in ruins. Three years later, what remained of the village was torn apart by civil war as the civilians tried to wrest control from the Hokage. Now, Konoha was nothing but a skeleton of its former self, a graveyard for the dreams and hopes of its people.

Naruto had fled to Uzushiogakure, the Village Hidden in the Whirlpool—a place that, like him, was a shadow of its former self. The once-thriving village of the Uzumaki clan was now a wasteland, its buildings crumbling and overgrown with vines, its streets empty and silent. No humans had lived there for decades, and the only signs of life were the occasional birds and fish that Naruto hunted to survive.

The village itself was eerily beautiful in its desolation. The seals that had once protected the village were now faded, barely visible on the weathered stones. The grand gates that had guarded the entrance stood open, rusted and broken. The streets were lined with the remnants of homes, their walls cracked and covered in moss, their roofs caved in from years of neglect. The air was thick with the scent of salt and decay, the once vibrant energy of the village now replaced by a heavy, oppressive stillness.

Naruto's body had withered over the years, his once muscular frame now gaunt and frail. His clothes were torn and ragged, his beard unkempt and wild. He spent his days wandering the ruins, his mind lost in the memories of what had been and what he had done. Sometimes he would sit for hours, staring into the void, his thoughts consumed by guilt and regret. The silence of Uzushiogakure was a constant reminder of his isolation, a prison that he had willingly confined himself to.

The guilt was eating him alive. It gnawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing away at his sanity. He often wondered what his parents would think of him now. Would they be proud of the man he had become? Or would they be horrified by the monster he had turned into? The thought of facing them after death filled him with a terror that no battle had ever inspired. He imagined their faces, their disappointment, their sorrow. What would they say to him? How could he ever justify what he had done?

Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would talk to himself, his voice echoing through the empty streets like the ravings of a madman.

"You did it for them," he would mutter, his eyes wide and unblinking. "They took them away from you. They deserved it. They all deserved it."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were lies. No one deserved what he had done. Not even his enemies. The truth was that he had lost himself in his quest for vengeance, and now there was nothing left of the boy who had once believed in justice and peace.

One day, as he was chasing a chicken through the ruins—one of the few remaining sources of food—his foot caught on a loose stone. He stumbled, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance, but it was too late. He fell, his head striking the ground with a sickening thud. The world went black, and for a moment, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would finally find peace.

When he awoke, it was already dark. His head throbbed with pain, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and realized that he had fallen in front of a cave—no, not just a cave, but the entrance to something far more ancient and mysterious.

The entrance was sealed by a massive stone door, covered in intricate seals that glowed faintly in the darkness. Naruto stared at the seals, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. The symbols were old, older than anything he had ever seen before, and they seemed to pulse with a strange, otherworldly energy.

'One day, an Uzumaki with the heart of a thousand suns will open this and save the Shinobi world.'

Naruto's eyes widened as he read the inscription carved into the stone. The words echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of dread and confusion. Save the Shinobi world? The world was already destroyed, reduced to ashes and ruins by his own hand. Could it mean… could it be talking about him?

His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of hope and fear warring within him. Could this be his chance for redemption? Could he somehow undo the horrors he had unleashed? The thought was almost too much to bear, a flicker of light in the endless darkness that had consumed him.

Without thinking, he gathered his chakra, forming the seals for his most powerful jutsu. He launched the technique at the stone door, but to his shock, the seals absorbed the energy, dissipating it as if it were nothing. Naruto gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face as he tried again, and again, and again. Each time, the door remained unmoved, the seals glowing brighter with each failed attempt.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice growing hoarse with desperation. "Open, damn it! Open!"

He threw jutsu after jutsu at the door, his frustration mounting with each passing second. Fire, wind, earth—every element at his command, he hurled at the entrance, but nothing worked. The seals absorbed everything he threw at them, their glow becoming almost blinding in the darkness.

Hours passed, the moon rising high in the sky as Naruto continued his assault. His body ached, his chakra reserves dwindling to nothing, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop. This was his last hope, his final chance to make things right.

But as the night gave way to dawn, and the dawn to afternoon, his strength finally gave out. He collapsed to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion. The seals on the door remained unchanged, their glow now dimming as if mocking his efforts.

He should have known. He should have known that it was hopeless. His heart was too contaminated, too darkened by the blood he had spilled. He wasn't the savior the world needed. He was the destroyer, the harbinger of death.

Naruto lay there, his body broken, his spirit shattered. The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying with it the echoes of the dead, the voices of those he had lost. He had nothing left—no hope, no future. Only the endless void that had consumed him from the inside out.

And as the night fell once more, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that had claimed him long ago.

oOo

Ten long years had passed since Naruto had discovered that ominous cave, since he had collapsed in a heap of despair and hopelessness. Now, the man who once struck fear into the hearts of nations was barely recognizable. The once lean, powerful warrior had succumbed to years of neglect and self-loathing. His body had grown round and sluggish, a layer of fat covering the muscles that had once been as hard as stone. His fiery red hair, now streaked with grey, hung in matted clumps around his weathered face. He was no longer the relentless avenger or the unstoppable force of nature. He was just a grumpy, broken 35-year-old man, consumed by the weight of his sins and the emptiness that followed him like a shadow.

Naruto had long since lost the will to continue, and the days blurred into one another as he wandered the ruins of Uzushiogakure, a ghost in a dead village. The guilt and despair that had gnawed at him for years had finally eroded the last remnants of his resolve. He was tired—tired of the endless suffering, tired of the guilt that haunted his every waking moment, and tired of the loneliness that had become his only companion. There was only one escape left to him, and he had decided to take it.

It was a quiet evening when Naruto made his way to the great Shinjuu tree, the ancient and sacred tree that stood at the heart of the ruined village. Its massive roots twisted and curled like the gnarled fingers of an old man, spreading out in every direction, anchoring the tree to the earth. The tree had stood for centuries, a silent witness to the rise and fall of the Uzumaki clan, and now it would bear witness to his end.

Naruto knelt at the base of the tree, his knees sinking into the soft earth. He had brought with him a small wooden box, which he opened with trembling hands. Inside was a vial of snake venom, potent enough to kill a man within minutes. He had chosen this method because it seemed fitting—poison, the slow and painful end that mirrored the decay of his own soul. He stared at the vial, his heart heavy with resignation, and was about to uncork it when something caught his eye.

There, nestled among the twisted roots of the Shinjuu tree, was something shining. It was faint, almost imperceptible in the dying light of the day, but it was there. A glimmer of silver, half-buried in the dirt.

Naruto hesitated, his hand hovering over the vial. Curiosity, something he hadn't felt in years, flickered to life within him. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing aside the loose earth to reveal the source of the light. It was a scroll, a silver-coloured scroll that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. The metal felt cold against his skin as he pulled it free from the roots, and he could see that the surface was engraved with delicate patterns. His eyes widened as he saw the words etched into the cover: "Never Give Up."

Naruto's heart skipped a beat. The words were a painful echo of the mantra he had once lived by, a reminder of the person he had been before everything fell apart. He stared at the scroll, a mixture of emotions swirling inside him—anger, sadness, confusion. What was this? Why was it here, now, at the very moment he had decided to end it all?

With great effort, Naruto forced himself to sit up, his curiosity now burning brighter than his despair. He carefully unrolled the scroll, noting the intricate seal at its edge. It was an Uzumaki blood seal, a security measure that could only be unlocked by someone with Uzumaki blood running through their veins. His hands shook as he bit his thumb, drawing blood, and pressed it against the seal. The scroll seemed to pulse in response, the seal dissolving as it absorbed the blood, and then it unfurled before him.

Naruto's breath caught in his throat as he saw what was inside. The scroll was filled with a series of complex seals and diagrams, unlike anything he had ever seen. The lines and symbols were meticulously drawn, forming patterns that were both beautiful and terrifying in their complexity. The seals were arranged in geometric shapes—circles within circles, interlocking triangles, squares with intricate designs at their corners. Each symbol was connected by a web of fine lines, creating a tapestry of power and precision that was beyond anything he had ever studied.

He traced the lines with his eyes, trying to decipher the meaning behind them. The patterns seemed to shift and move, almost alive with the energy they contained. Some seals resembled the ones he had learned long ago, but there were others that were completely alien to him. The diagrams depicted something far more advanced than anything he had encountered—a fusion of space, time, and energy, woven together in a way that defied comprehension.

Hours passed as Naruto studied the scroll, his mind slowly piecing together the puzzle before him. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruins, but he paid no heed to the passage of time. His focus was absolute, his mind racing as he delved deeper into the intricacies of the seals. He could feel the energy contained within the scroll, the sheer power of it radiating from the symbols like heat from a fire.

Sixteen hours later, Naruto's eyes suddenly widened in shock. His heart pounded in his chest as the realization hit him, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with a clarity that took his breath away.

"It can't…be…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

He stared at the scroll, his mind reeling from the implications of what he had discovered. The seals, the diagrams, the complex interplay of space and time—it was a Space-Time jutsu, but not just any jutsu. This was something far more powerful, far more dangerous.

It was a technique created by his great-great-grandfather, Ashina Uzumaki, the founder of their clan's formidable sealing arts. A technique that, if executed correctly, could reverse time itself.

Naruto's hands shook as he held the scroll, his mind racing. This was it—the answer he had been searching for, the redemption he had thought was forever out of reach. If he could master this technique, he could undo everything. He could go back and stop himself from making the terrible mistakes that had led to the destruction of the world. He could save everyone.

But as the enormity of what he had found began to sink in, so did the fear. This was a power beyond anything he had ever wielded, a power that could destroy him just as easily as it could save him. He had already seen what his own darkness was capable of—could he really trust himself with this? Could he, a man broken and corrupted by guilt and hatred, wield the power to turn back time without causing even more harm?

Naruto sat there, the scroll unfurled in his lap, the words "Never Give Up" etched into his mind. The darkness around him seemed to close in, the silence of the village pressing down on him like a physical weight. The decision he faced was a monumental one, and for the first time in years, he felt something other than despair.

But it was a fragile hope, one that could be easily shattered. And as he sat there, contemplating the power that lay within his grasp, the question that haunted him was whether he had the strength to use it—or if he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes, over and over again.

oOo

Naruto sat hunched over in the dimly lit room, the light from a flickering candle barely enough to illuminate the countless scrolls scattered across the floor. Outside, a storm raged, the wind howling through the cracks in the broken windows of the old, abandoned house he had taken refuge in. The rain lashed against the roof, a relentless torrent that mirrored the turmoil within him. The room itself was a ruin, much like Naruto's own soul—a crumbling shell of what it had once been. The walls were covered in the remnants of old seals and protective runes, their power long since faded. The air was thick with dust and the stench of mildew, but Naruto paid it no mind. His focus was absolute, his mind consumed by the intricate patterns and symbols he was painstakingly drawing on the floor.

The seal he was working on was unlike anything he had ever attempted before. It was a fusion of Uzumaki sealing techniques, the kind his ancestors had perfected over centuries, and the knowledge he had acquired from Jiraiya and countless others. But this was different—this was beyond anything even Jiraiya could have taught him. The complexity of the design was staggering, the precision required so exact that even the slightest mistake would render it useless.

The candle's light flickered, casting long, twisted shadows on the walls as Naruto worked tirelessly, his hands moving with a desperation that bordered on madness. His red hair, now matted and unkempt, fell into his face, but he ignored it, his mind too focused on the task at hand. He had been at this for days, maybe even weeks—he had lost track of time. He hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. It was only his Uzumaki lineage, with its legendary vitality, that kept him going.

His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, scanned the patterns for the hundredth time, looking for any flaw, any imperfection. But the seals were perfect. They had to be. He couldn't afford another failure. Yet, as the days dragged on, frustration began to creep in. The lines began to blur before his eyes, the symbols dancing mockingly just out of his reach.

"What am I missing?" he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse from lack of use. His fingers trembled as he traced the lines of the seal, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. "Why isn't it working?"

Outside, the storm grew fiercer, the wind screaming as it tore through the night. The candle sputtered, threatening to go out, but Naruto barely noticed. His mind was fracturing under the pressure, the weight of his guilt and his desperation pressing down on him like a vice. He had to make this work. He had to.

Days flew by, weeks went, and months passed in a blur of frustration and despair. The world outside continued to turn, but for Naruto, time had stopped. His entire existence had narrowed down to this one task—this one chance to undo the horrors he had unleashed upon the world. But the seal, his last hope, remained incomplete.

There were moments when the frustration became too much, when the weight of his failures threatened to crush him. He would sit back, his hands clutching at his hair, and scream into the darkness, the sound swallowed by the storm. "Damn it!" he would shout, his voice breaking. "Why won't it work? What am I doing wrong?"

In those moments, the darkness would close in, whispering insidious thoughts into his ear. "Give up," it would say. "This is beyond you. You'll never see them again. You'll never fix this."

And for a brief, terrifying moment, he would consider it. The idea of simply giving up, of letting the despair take him, was almost comforting in its finality. But then, something inside him would stir—a flicker of the old Naruto, the one who never gave up, who always found a way. The greed for a chance to meet his beloved people again, to save them, to right the wrongs he had committed, would flare up, driving him back to his work with renewed determination.

Three years passed in this way, the days blending into one another in a haze of ink, sweat, and tears. And then, one day, the breakthrough came.

Naruto stared down at the seal he had spent so long perfecting, his heart pounding in his chest. It was done. The final piece had fallen into place. He had completed the seal—a seal he had named "Return By Dragon." It was a fitting name, he thought, for the technique that would allow him to go back, to return to a certain point in time with all his chakra and memories intact. The seal array, when activated, would require an enormous amount of chakra—5600 AsA, far more than any ordinary shinobi could muster. But Naruto was no ordinary shinobi.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he prepared to activate the seal. This was it. His last chance. He formed the dragon hand seal, his chakra flaring to life as he poured it into the array on the ground. The seals began to glow, the patterns shifting as they came to life, the power thrumming beneath the surface like a coiled serpent ready to strike.

"Please," Naruto whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm outside. "Please work…"

But nothing happened.

The glow faded, the power dissipating into the air like smoke. The array was silent, inert. Naruto's heart shattered. He fell to his knees, staring at the now dormant seal, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened.

"It didn't work," he muttered, his voice hollow. "It didn't work…"

He was heartbroken. This had been his last hope, the one chance he had to make things right. And it had failed. The despair he had kept at bay for so long came crashing down on him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths. He had spent years, poured everything he had into this seal, and it had all been for nothing.

Naruto bowed his head, his hands digging into the dirt as tears filled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words choked by the lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry…"

The wind howled through the broken windows, the storm raging on as if mocking his pain. He was about to give in, to let the darkness take him, when something strange happened. A small, insignificant thing, but in that moment, it was everything.

A bird, drenched from the rain, landed on the sealing array on the ground. It hopped around, pecking at the ground, seemingly unbothered by the power that had failed moments before. Naruto looked up, his eyes red and puffy, and watched as the bird moved. It was a small thing, a simple, ordinary bird—but as it moved across the seal, Naruto's breath caught in his throat.

There, in the center of the array, where the bird now stood, was a line—a line that had been missing. A line that connected two symbols, completing the pattern in a way he hadn't seen before.

Naruto's heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. How had he missed it?

He had no ink pot nearby, without thinking, he bit his thumb and connected the symbols with his blood.

Taking a deep breath, he stood at the middle of the sealing array and formed a dragon hand sign.

"Seal!"

The world twisted around Naruto, reality itself unraveling as the seal's power consumed him. His body felt like it was being torn apart, stretched across time and space, every nerve screaming in agony as he was pulled into the past. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips. The light grew brighter, searing his vision until all he could see was a blinding white.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation stopped. The world snapped back into focus, the light faded, and Naruto found himself standing in the middle of a familiar street.

His heart raced as he took in his surroundings, his breath catching in his throat. The buildings around him were intact, their walls unscarred by the devastation he had once wrought. The air was crisp and clean, untouched by the stench of death that had plagued his nightmares for so long. It was quiet—peaceful. Too peaceful.

Naruto's hands shook as he looked down at them, his eyes widening in disbelief. His fingers were no longer gnarled and scarred from years of battle and despair. His clothes, once torn and filthy, were now clean and intact. Even his body felt different—comfortabe, more agile, as it had been in his youth.

His heart pounded as he realized what had happened. The seal had worked. He had returned to the past, to a time before everything had gone wrong. But how far back had he gone? Was it enough to stop the horrors that were to come?

Naruto's breath quickened as he spun around, searching for any sign of where he was—when he was. The buildings were familiar, the layout of the village etched into his memory. But it was only when he caught sight of a group of children playing in the distance that his heart nearly stopped.

The children were laughing, their voices carrying on the breeze as they chased each other through the streets. They were carefree, innocent—just as they had been before the wars, before the bloodshed. Naruto's eyes locked onto one child in particular, a boy with spiky black hair and dark black eyes, a grin on his face that Naruto hadn't seen in years.

It was Shisui. A child.

Naruto's breath caught in his throat as he watched the younger version of Shisui run by waving at him with a toothy grin, oblivious to the future that awaited him. His heart ached at the sight, a deep, gnawing pain that he hadn't felt in years. This was the boy who would grow up to become the hero of the village, the boy who would be hailed as a genius—only to lose everything.

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to touch the boy, to warn him, to protect him. But he stopped himself, his hand trembling as he realized the weight of what he was about to do. He couldn't change things this way. He couldn't just tell others what was to come. It would be too dangerous, too reckless. The future was fragile, and even the smallest change could have catastrophic consequences.

Naruto clenched his fist, drawing his hand back as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to be careful. He had to be smart. This was his chance—his one chance to make things right. But he couldn't afford to act on impulse. He had to think, to plan. The future depended on it.

The children's laughter faded as they ran further down the street, disappearing around a corner. Naruto stood there for a moment, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. He had returned to a time before everything had gone wrong, but the weight of his memories, of the countless lives lost, still pressed down on him.

He couldn't let it happen again.

Naruto turned away from the street, his mind racing as he tried to piece together a plan. He needed to find out exactly when he was, what events were about to unfold. He needed information—intel on the current state of the village, of the world. Only then could he figure out how to stop the chain of events that would lead to the destruction of everything he held dear. He sh—

"Naruto!" He froze as he saw her. "How many times have I told you not to steal my dry Ramen?!"

"Mom?!"

"No!" Kushina yelled. "The Red Hot-Habanero, 'ttebane!" She grabbed him by his ear and began to pull him towards their home. "No Ramen for a week!"

Naruto didn't feel pain. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Y-yeah… I gotta save 'em all…believe it…"

Kushina frowned, but took him to his lap. "Tch, don't shed your crocodile tears now. Let's get back home."

oOo

Naruto, though almost three years old in body after his return to the past, carried the weight of a man far beyond his years. The irony was not lost on him. He was a child again, yet the burden of his failures, his regrets, clung to him like a shadow that refused to dissipate. It was strange—unsettling even—to feel the stirrings of childish habits reemerge in him. The way he would instinctively reach for his mother's hand, the comfort he sought in his father's presence, the joy he found in a simple bowl of ramen at Ichiraku. All these were relics of a life he thought he'd left behind, yet here they were, resurfacing as if time had rewound not just his surroundings, but his very soul.

Still, despite the horror that gnawed at the back of his mind, he found solace in seeing the faces of those he had lost. His mother, Kushina, radiant with life as she playfully scolded him for eating too quickly. His father, Minato, calm and composed, his eyes twinkling with a warmth that had long since vanished from Naruto's memory. Team Minato, the Sannin, Teuchi, Mikoto—everyone he had ever loved and cherished was alive, breathing, laughing as though the horrors of the future were nothing but a distant nightmare.

Naruto had to remind himself, again and again, that this wasn't a dream. This was reality—his reality. And it was his responsibility to make sure it stayed that way.

He spent sleepless nights agonizing over what to do, how to keep them safe. Memories of their deaths haunted him, pushing him to the brink of madness as he desperately searched for a way to prevent the coming catastrophe. It was then that a plan began to take shape in his mind—simple in its cruelty, yet effective. If he could prevent them from going on that ill-fated mission, if he could keep them away from the battlefield, then perhaps…perhaps he could save them.

The day came, and Naruto's resolve was as cold and unyielding as steel. He accompanied his mother to Training Ground Seven, his heart a turbulent storm beneath a calm exterior. Kushina had prepared a lavish meal for Team Minato, a celebration before they set off on what they believed to be a routine mission. Naruto forced a smile as he watched them laugh and joke, his stomach churning with guilt for what he was about to do.

He had poisoned the food.

The thought echoed in his mind, a dark whisper that twisted his insides. He had laced the meal with a paralysing drug, potent enough to incapacitate even the strongest of shinobi. As they ate, unaware of his treachery, Naruto joined them, consuming the food himself. He had to. If he showed no signs of illness, if he remained unaffected, they would know something was wrong. They would suspect him. So he ate, knowing full well what was to come.

And it worked. One by one, they fell sick, their bodies succumbing to the drug's effects. Even Naruto felt the numbing cold spread through his veins, his limbs growing heavy as the world around him dimmed. But he had succeeded. They would not go on the mission. They would stay here, safe, and he would save them.

The ANBU had come and they took them to the hospital where Tsunade diagnosed them. She said it wasn't lethal— but they would require at least a week's rest, four for Kushina since she was a Jinchuriki.

Hours passed, and as the sun began its descent, Naruto found himself resting in his room, the effects of the drug still coursing through his body. He was relieved, almost deliriously so, that his plan had worked. But as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a low rumble shook the ground beneath him.

The village was under attack.

Panic surged through him, but his body refused to move. He was trapped, paralyzed by his own actions as he heard the sounds of battle echoing through the village. Explosions, the clash of steel, the cries of the dying—it all blended into a cacophony of terror that seeped into his bones. Helpless, he could only listen as Konoha was razed to the ground, the very thing he had tried to prevent unfolding before him.

By the time the drug had worn off, it was too late.

Naruto awoke the next morning, his body stiff and sore, the remnants of the drug still lingering in his system. His room was in shambles, the walls cracked, the ceiling partially collapsed. He pushed himself up, his movements slow and deliberate, his mind a haze of confusion and dread.

And then he saw them.

Bodies. Everywhere. The streets were littered with the dead, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky. Blood stained the earth, dark and thick, as if the village itself had bled out in the night. The stench of death was overpowering, a suffocating miasma that clung to Naruto as he staggered through the ruins of what had once been his home.

Everyone was gone. His parents, his friends, the villagers—every single person he had fought so desperately to save was dead. All because of him. His actions, his decisions, had led to this. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, driving the breath from his lungs as he fell to his knees amidst the carnage.

"This…this wasn't supposed to happen…" he muttered, his voice a broken whisper. His hands clawed at the ground, fingers digging into the blood-soaked earth as his mind spiraled into a maelstrom of despair. "I saved you…I saved all of you…so why…?"

But the dead offered no answers. They simply lay there, silent and accusing, their empty eyes a mirror to his own soul. Naruto's breath hitched, his chest tightening as the full weight of his failure crushed him. He had thought he could change the future, that he could defy fate itself and rewrite history. But all he had done was bring about a new nightmare, one more horrifying than the last.

"What do I do…?" he asked the empty air, his voice trembling. "What can I do…?"

But he already knew the answer.

The jutsu. The seal. He had to go back. He had to try again. He had to keep trying until he got it right, until he saved them all. There was no other choice. There never had been.

Never give up.

With a trembling hand, Naruto formed the hand signs for the jutsu, his heart pounding with a desperate, frantic hope. This time, he would do it right. This time, he would save them.

"Seal!" he cried, his voice cracking with emotion.

The world blurred around him, reality warping and twisting as the jutsu took hold. The bodies, the blood, the devastation—all of it began to fade, replaced by a blinding white light that consumed him.

And then, just like that, he was back.

Back in the past. Back where it all began.

Naruto's heart ached as he found himself once more in the familiar surroundings of the street. The sun was shining, the air warm and filled with the sounds of laughter and life. But beneath the surface, a dark resolve had taken hold in Naruto's heart.

He would keep doing this. He would keep going back, no matter how many times it took. No matter how much pain he had to endure, he would save them. He couldn't let this be their fate. He wouldn't.

But even as he steeled himself for the trials ahead, a cold voice whispered in the back of his mind, a voice he couldn't quite silence.

What if you can't save them? What if no matter what you do, they're destined to die?

Naruto shook his head, forcing the thought away. He couldn't afford to think like that. Not now. Not when he was so close.

oOo

Naruto's world had become a twisted spiral of time and despair, each reset dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of his own making. He had tried so many different tactics, each one a desperate attempt to rewrite the future, to prevent the deaths that haunted his every waking moment. But no matter what he did, no matter how he twisted and turned the threads of fate, death found them all. Each failure weighed heavily on his soul, like a stone sinking into the dark, endless depths of the ocean.

At first, he tried to manipulate the events leading up to the mission, hoping to steer Team Minato and Kushina away from their grim fate. He orchestrated small changes, subtle nudges, leading others to take their place on the mission. But fate, it seemed, was a cruel mistress. Even when they avoided one mission, they were sent on another, just as dangerous, just as deadly. And in the end, they were killed.

With each failure, Naruto's resolve only hardened. He would reset everything and try again, the world around him blurring and warping as he returned to the past. But no matter how many times he rewound time, the outcome remained the same—death, destruction, and despair.

As the resets piled up, Naruto's chakra reserves began to swell, each reset compounding his power. It was a bittersweet development—his increased chakra reserves allowed him to try more desperate, more powerful strategies, but he knew it came with a price. Chakra disease loomed over him like a dark cloud, a ticking time bomb in his veins that threatened to tear his body apart from the inside.

Undeterred, Naruto continued his efforts to save them. He ventured into the war in secret, his young body barely able to keep up with the demands he placed on it. He was a child, trapped in a body too weak to wield the immense power he held. Every time he tried to save someone, someone else would fall. It was a cruel, vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break.

Yet, he refused to give up. He reset again, and again, his determination a blazing fire that refused to be extinguished. But with each reset, that fire dimmed, leaving behind a hollow, empty shell of the boy he once was. The horror of seeing them die, over and over, hundreds of times, was chipping away at his sanity. The laughter of his mother, the reassuring words of his father, the camaraderie of his friends—all of it became twisted, distorted by the countless times he had witnessed their deaths.

He had even tried telling others about the future, revealing the terrible truth in a desperate bid to alter their fate. But it only led to suspicion and paranoia. The Interrogation Department chief had grabbed him, demanding answers.

"Who do you work for? Who are you?" the chief would ask, his voice cold and unyielding.

And every time, Naruto would reset, the distrust and fear in their eyes haunting him as he returned to the past.

In a moment of desperation, Naruto decided to go further back in time, hoping to change things at an even earlier point. But it was a mistake. His much younger self could barely withstand the pressure on his brain and the strain of transferring his chakra. The agony of nearly dying as a small child was a stark reminder of the limitations of his power.

Realizing the danger, Naruto modified the seal, choosing to send himself back more gradually, to let time unfold at a slower pace. It was now reset number 303.

This time, things were different—oddly different. His current self was a genin, under the tutelage of his own mother, Kushina Uzumaki. His teammates were two children, innocent and unburdened by the darkness that had consumed Naruto. But Naruto himself was far from innocent. He had lived and died a hundred times, each reset eroding a piece of his soul, leaving behind a hollow shell.

They were on a mission, facing a group of Kumo nin—shinobi he had grown to loathe with a burning intensity. The memories of their betrayals, their ruthlessness, had only fueled his hatred. This time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. Naruto unleashed Ashina Uzumaki's Forbidden Technique, a jutsu so powerful and deadly that it shocked everyone present.

His teammates stared at him, their eyes wide with terror and confusion. They had never seen anything like it—a genin wielding such power, such mercilessness. But Naruto didn't care anymore. He had long since abandoned the need for approval, for understanding. He had one goal, one obsession: to save them all, no matter the cost.

His current self could now use high-level techniques, and with that power came a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps now, with this strength, he had a better chance at saving everyone. But deep down, in the darkest recesses of his mind, a chilling thought lingered.

How many more resets? How many more deaths would he have to witness before he could finally break this cycle of horror?

But Naruto pushed those thoughts aside, his determination burning brighter than ever. He would save them. He had to.

And if he couldn't…he would keep trying, until nothing was left of him but a hollow shell, a ghost forever lost in time.

For now, he had the power, and with it, the resolve to face whatever came next. Even as the darkness closed in around him, Naruto stood firm, ready to fight against the tides of fate once more.

TBC

Author Note: In the next chapter, it will be disclosed how he got his Crystal Release. I hope everything is clear now.