The village breathes beneath a curtain of amber and rust, leaves scattered across narrow stone paths, carried by a wind that smells of woodsmoke and earth. Lantern light flickers along the rooftops, casting golden reflections that dance in puddles left by yesterday’s rain. Naruto walks with his hands tucked in his pockets, footsteps quiet beneath the hush of autumn as his breath curls in the chill, his bright blue eyes lifted toward the moonlit sky as it peers through thinning clouds. The bandaged right arm is a little stiff but steady at his side tonight, never truly becoming a part of him.

The shadows stretch behind him - tall, steady things that whisper of all he’s endured as the blond man walks not with purpose, but with thought. Konoha is peaceful tonight, and yet something unsettles him. Not fear. Not dread. Just weight. The kind that settles on old scars, both seen and unseen, and stirs his heart beneath the quiet. Restless, hopeful, aching.

The world is healing. So is he. But even now, under a calm sky, Naruto wonders who he still needs to become to protect everything he loves.