One Last Jump
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Naruto/Yukiteru x Yuno x ?
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Author's Note
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Chapter two, three, and possibly four should be up on Patron by the end of this evening.
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Story Start
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The consciousness that was once Yukiteru "Yukki" Amano reeled in the darkness. There was no light, no up or down—only an encompassing emptiness that seemed to extend to infinity. He felt weightless and unmoored, as if every sense had dulled, leaving him with only the slow, rhythmic echo of his own heart. Yet he shouldn't have a heart anymore, should he? He remembered dying—more than once.
First, he had died in his original life as Yukiteru, timid and resentful of his own weakness. Then, an otherworldly power had allowed him to reincarnate as Naruto Uzumaki, destined to become a hero in a world rife with ninjas, chakra, and ancient beasts bound within people's bodies. That second life had been so visceral and intense, so full of loud battles and raw emotions, that in comparison, his first life was like a faint memory glimpsed through fog. And he had gone on, forging bonds and overcoming obstacles far grander than anything he could have imagined as the timid boy in a Japanese middle school.
But during the final moments of that second life—when he lay battered and triumphant after saving his ninja world, when all the dust had settled—his first set of memories resurfaced. He remembered Yuno Gasai, the girl who would do anything for him, the survival game orchestrated by Deus Ex Machina, and the heartbreak and destruction that had come to pass in that twisted contest. He remembered how powerless he had felt, how Yuno had sacrificed so much. And a deep-rooted realization shot through him: he still hated his old, fragile self. But now, armed with the unbreakable will of Naruto Uzumaki, his regrets found renewed purpose.
It was that purpose that carried him through the dark void. Chakra—the life energy he had mastered as Naruto—proved more than just energy for techniques. It was a fuel for the spirit as well, and the intangible swirl of power coursed through every fiber of his existing consciousness. He would not lose again. The moment he had regained his Yukiteru memories, he had vowed to change everything.
The presence of chakra, so alien in his original world, gave him a unique advantage. It allowed a final act of reincarnation or time travel—he wasn't certain which label fit best. He just needed to find the right path, the right method, the correct alignment of soul and mind so he could guide himself back into his original timeline. Back to just after his father left him and his mother, back when his life was in fragile flux—yet still salvageable. The timeline existed out there somewhere. The day after his father walked out was a day Yukiteru always recalled with regret. It was a day that set many pieces in motion, shaping him into the lonely boy who scribbled in his cell phone diary instead of forging real friendships.
As Naruto, he had learned that having bonds was crucial. He had battled villains who had manipulated and twisted the notion of loneliness, who had sought to break hearts by severing ties. But he had also found that personal strength soared when you had people to protect. The memory of Team 7, of Kakashi-sensei, of Sakura and Sasuke, of all the friends he'd made—those images burned bright in his mind. He would carry them with him as he returned to the lonely Yukiteru, determined not to squander the gift of love and the ties he'd learned to treasure.
Suddenly, a kind of gravitational pull seized him, yanking him away from the formless void. For a terrifying moment, he felt his consciousness spin and fragment, as though the veil between dimensions itself were shredding. He clung desperately to his sense of self—both the fragile Yukiteru and the unstoppable Naruto. He refused to lose either. Only by making use of the memories of the former and willpower of the latter would be the key to saving Yuno Gasai and preventing the tragedies that had once defined his life.
An eruption of light filled his vision, and he gasped as if surfacing from deep under water. For a disorienting few seconds, he couldn't tell if he was awake or dreaming. Slowly, shapes coalesced. The soft glow of morning sunlight poured in through a set of curtains. A messy bed. A child's room. He recognized it from memories he had tried to bury. A shelf stacked with small figurines, a desk with a few scattered notebooks, and the cell phone lying on top of it. Yukiteru Amano's phone.
He almost leaped out of bed in surprise, but found himself smaller—back in a ten-year-old body. His breath came in ragged puffs, and his heart pounded as if he had run a thousand miles. It worked, he thought. The final jutsu, or technique, or dimensional rip—whatever it had been—it worked. He looked around, scanning the surroundings. It was definitely his old room in that cramped apartment. A sense of unreality struck him; after living as Naruto, this environment felt impossibly quiet and mundane. No more chakra-laced forests or hidden ninja villages. No flamboyant kunai or monstrous tailed beasts. Just an ordinary bedroom on an ordinary morning. Except now he was anything but ordinary.
Footsteps approached from the hall. A voice called out, muffled through the door. "Yukiteru, are you awake? School starts in an hour!"
His mother. The one he remembered as kind but busy, often absent due to work, and heartbreakingly alone after his father had left. This was indeed the day after his father's departure. For her sake, too, he wanted to fix things. "I'm up," he managed, trying to keep his voice steady—though inside, he was swirling with confusion and excitement.
"Alright," she answered. "Don't forget to eat something before you go."
The sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Yukiteru blinking at the door. He swung his legs out of bed and stood. The pajamas he wore were too big around his waist, and he realized that, at ten years old, he was even scrawnier than he remembered. But he still felt that faint trace of chakra thrumming in his core, a residual power that had followed him back, stronger than any normal child's life force.
Yukiteru patted his abdomen, that old habit from the Naruto days, as though expecting to find the seal for the Nine-Tails. Of course, it wasn't there. He felt… hollow, in a sense, but not as powerless as his small stature suggested. The new plan he had was bold, but no bolder than the challenges he had faced in his previous life. He would rewrite his story.
He hurriedly changed into his school uniform, trying to reorient himself in the hush of a morning routine that felt far too normal and heartbreakingly nostalgic. He glanced at his phone again. In the old timeline, that phone would become the Future Diary, courtesy of Deus Ex Machina's twisted game. Yukiteru had no plans to blindly follow that path again. But how to change it without letting the world unravel? Step by step, he told himself, tucking the phone into his backpack. The real changes would begin today.
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It amazed Yukiteru how seamlessly he shifted back into his old life's day-to-day patterns. The walk to school, the chatter of other children passing by, the ring of the morning bell—he recognized it all. The difference was that, this time, he took in the small details with a heightened awareness. He had spent a lifetime—two lifetimes—learning to read subtle cues, mastering infiltration and negotiation. He remembered, as Naruto, how valuable the smallest bits of knowledge could be in forging alliances or planning strategies.
In his previous timeline, Yukiteru had been quiet, barely noticing the passing world, convinced that people were better off as strangers. That was no longer an option. He needed friends, allies. Real alliances, just like Naruto had formed. This time, though, there was more than just a need for personal growth—the survival game would loom soon enough. Yuno Gasai, the shy and unassuming girl in class with bubblegum-pink hair, was a ticking time bomb if left alone in her tragic situation.
He would need help—both legal and illegal, as he had decided during that final swirl of cosmic power. There were some people who simply would not operate within the bounds of normalcy, but who could be instrumental in preventing catastrophe. Yukiteru recalled the other diary owners: terrorists, vigilantes, the manipulative mayor… They were all still out there in potential form, unknowing of the future. If he could secure their cooperation before Deus Ex Machina pulled them into his game, so much tragedy could be avoided. But how?
In the meantime, he had to start small. He had to reintroduce himself to a world that saw him as a timid boy. The day's classes passed in a haze of half-listening, half-planning. He watched Yuno from across the classroom—she was, for the most part, just an ordinary girl at this point. No unhinged smiles, no haunting gazes. But a flicker of sorrow crossed her face whenever her eyes drifted to the empty seat that had once belonged to a friend or perhaps her absentee parents. Yukiteru vaguely recalled that Yuno's home life was deeply troubled, even abusive. He wanted to help sooner, but he needed to form a strategy. Charging in like Naruto might backfire in a world governed by everyday laws, social services, and suspicious neighbors.
At lunch, while most kids scattered into small groups to eat, Yukiteru wandered the corridors until he found a secluded alcove near the stairwell. He gently laid out his bento box, which his mother had packed hurriedly that morning—rice, a few pickled vegetables, not much else. His father's departure had left them financially strained, and it showed in the humble meal. He sighed, thinking of how he used to survive on instant ramen as Naruto. Some things never changed.
A faint shuffle of footsteps made him look up. The pink-haired girl was standing there, hugging her own lunch container. Her big eyes flickered nervously from him to the empty corner. Back in the old timeline, Yuno would have never approached him so boldly. But perhaps her loneliness was such that she was drawn to the equally quiet Yukiteru.
"H-Hi," she said softly, voice almost lost in the echo of the stairwell.
"Hi, Gasai-san," he responded, feigning the tone of a shy boy but letting a small, warm smile slip through. Inside, he was no longer that shy boy, but he didn't want to overwhelm her.
She hesitated, looking as if she might turn and run. "May… can I eat with you?"
The innocence of that request tugged at him. He'd expected to orchestrate a conversation soon enough, but he hadn't expected her to make the first move. Perhaps, in this timeline, there was already a faint resonance drawing them together. Either way, he wasn't about to say no.
"Sure," he said, gesturing at a spot next to him on the bench.
They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, broken only by the quiet clink of chopsticks on lunch containers. He could see how guarded she was; her shoulders remained tense, and her eyes darted around as if worried someone might confront her. Eventually, he gathered his courage.
"You… you can call me Yukiteru," he said. "No need to be so formal."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face. "Yukiteru," she repeated quietly. Then a tiny smile blossomed, momentarily brightening her usually solemn features. "You can call me Yuno," she added, almost shyly.
He nodded. In that single moment, he felt the timidest spark of connection. Nothing like the desperate, feverish devotion she would later develop as the Second Diary Owner. But it was a start. He told himself he had to tread carefully; Yuno was fragile in ways few others could understand, but she was also fiercely loyal, dangerously so.
They finished lunch without too many words. When the bell signaled the end of the break, they parted. Yukiteru could feel Yuno's gaze lingering on him as they returned to class. His heart hammered in his chest, because this time, he was determined to be there for her before she slipped into despair. He remembered her stories of being locked in a cage, of parents who starved her, and how that twisted her love into a frightening obsession. If he could prevent that from happening or at least mitigate its damage, he might be saving not just her but himself—and countless others.
When classes ended, Yukiteru slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out, half expecting Yuno to appear again. Instead, he found her desk empty. He paused. Part of him wanted to go after her, but he had other matters to attend to.
He slipped away from the school grounds and found himself wandering an old route through the city. Twisting alleyways, half-forgotten shortcuts—these were places he hadn't even known existed as a child, but memories from Naruto's life provided him an uncanny sense of direction and wariness. He wasn't simply walking; he was scouting. He had made up his mind to seek out potential allies who operated outside the bounds of polite society. Criminal elements, or at least those with a rebellious edge, might be more open to forging alliances if he could present them with future knowledge or prove his capability.
The city street gave way to a district overshadowed by dilapidated buildings and shuttered shops. The atmosphere felt heavier, the sidewalk emptier. It was risky for a lone, small kid to be there. But Yukiteru had faced worse. He reminded himself he was physically only ten, yet he carried the mental reflexes and knowledge of a seasoned shinobi. If anyone tried to cause trouble, he still knew how to defend himself. He had to trust that the chakra in his body, even if minimal, would give him an edge.
He came upon a run-down arcade. The neon sign flickered sporadically, and a local punk with dyed hair leaned against the exterior, smoking. The moment Yukiteru stepped inside, the smell of stale cigarettes and old carpets assaulted his senses. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated rows of battered game machines, some of which beeped and flashed in garish colors. It was half-empty; a few older teens huddled around certain machines, ignoring the newcomer.
Yukiteru made his way toward a back room he vaguely recalled. He wasn't sure if this was exactly the right place or time, but from rumors he remembered in the old timeline— he knew that certain shady dealings took place here. Perhaps local small-timers with underworld connections used these back rooms. Allies, or potential enemies, might be found among them.
He pushed open a partially cracked door, revealing a cramped storage room turned hangout. A couple of older teens—maybe sixteen or seventeen—were laughing over a game of cards, cursing at each other as they slapped bills on the table. They glanced up when he entered, looks of irritation and amusement crossing their faces at the sight of a scrawny kid.
"You lost, brat?" asked one with a greasy ponytail. "Get out before you get hurt."
"I'm not lost," Yukiteru said, steeling himself. A small voice inside him reminded him that Naruto's direct approach had often won over tough crowds, but he had to temper it with caution. He raised his chin. "I've got something to offer. Maybe a deal."
A laugh rippled through the group. "Really? A kid like you?"
He swallowed. "Information. About future… opportunities. My father used to be involved in some shady stuff," he lied smoothly, "and I heard some talk. People said you might be able to help—if you knew there was profit in it."
The older teens looked at each other skeptically, but Yukiteru saw curiosity flicker in their eyes. A child offering inside info was bizarre enough to pique their interest. One of them kicked out a chair, tilting it toward Yukiteru. "Talk. Let's see if we don't throw you out after five minutes."
Yukiteru sat. He was taking a gamble, but time was short. He needed an informal network that could help him get resources—information on suspicious individuals who might later become diary owners, for example, or quick access to false documents if he ever had to slip away. In the original timeline, he would have never dared approach such types. But now, he had enough cunning to play a double game.
"I heard rumors that a few new major players might be moving into the area in the coming months," Yukiteru began, weaving half-truths with silent convictions about what the future might hold: certain diary owners like the Ninth, the terrorist Minene Uryu, would appear. "They'll be looking for local contacts, supplies. If you get ahead of them, you'll be able to control the trade routes. Maybe get a cut without them stepping on you."
He spun a story about a potential surge of black-market deals, referencing coded tidbits about bombs or unregistered firearms—things he suspected Minene Uryu might eventually use. The older teens listened with growing rapt attention. They peppered him with questions, which he deflected deftly, hiding behind the veneer that he was merely repeating "what he heard from his father." Some of it was guesswork based on the future events, but if it paid off, he'd have a loose alliance in place.
"You're a weird kid," the ponytailed teen finally said, leaning back. "But if even half of what you say is true, we might be able to use that. Alright, maybe we keep you around… see how your info pans out."
A swirl of relief and tension coursed through Yukiteru. He knew he couldn't push them to do anything big yet, but at least the door to an illegal support network was cracked open. "In return," he said, "if I ever need help with—finding someone, or protecting myself—I'd like to have that favor."
Ponytail smirked. "Fine. We keep you safe if you deliver. But cross us, brat, and I'll make you regret it."
It was an uneasy pact, formed in a dingy back room of a failing arcade, but Yukiteru recognized it as the first step on the illegal side of his plan. He offered a polite bow, which seemed to amuse them further, then left as quietly as he had come. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple as he emerged from the arcade.
He exhaled a shaky breath. This was going to be more complicated than any fight Naruto had ever faced, because here he couldn't just rely on raw heroics or jutsu. He had to manipulate events in a world bounded by ordinary laws, while still dealing with the supernatural threat of the Future Diary game.