Chapter 88 – The Boy Beneath the World
One week passed.
Naruto Uzumaki was gone.
Not dead.Not lost.Just... woven into everything.
His name could no longer be spoken aloud.Not in full.Not without something burning.
Kakashi stood at the edge of the old shrine ruins, now buried under sakura petals and silence.
Shino beside him.
Kiba, bandaged, quiet for once.
No monument. No grave.
There couldn't be.
How do you bury someone threaded through time itself?
Behind them, the wind shifted.
A child ran through the trees—leaf headband too big, feet too fast. Laughing.
The world had moved on.
But the air still remembered.
And somewhere far from Konoha—
Beneath a mountain that had no name—
A child opened his eyes.
He was lying in an empty place.
Flat stone. No ceiling. No walls.
No sky.
Only white.
And thread.
So much thread.
It was Naruto.
Or… something that had once been Naruto.
But he was younger.
Thirteen, maybe.
No jacket.
No scars.
No memory.
His eyes blinked.
Blue.
No dojutsu.
No flame.
Just confusion.
He sat up.
Looked around.
"Where…"
His voice cracked. Felt unused.
He touched his chest.
No seal.
No pain.
Just breath.
From the silence, a whisper came.
"Stitch by stitch…"
He turned.
Nothing.
The floor shifted—tiny kanji glimmering for a moment, then gone.
He stood.
Walked.
Each step felt lighter than the last.
Like he didn't fully exist.
Then—
A girl appeared.
Young. Quiet. Pale robes.
Black thread around her neck.
Her eyes were closed.
She didn't speak.
She held out a needle.
Naruto blinked.
"What's this?"
She didn't answer.
He reached for it.
Touched the handle.
The world pulsed.
Threads flew from his fingers, glowing gold.
Images surged through him—flashes—
Sasuke.Sakura.Iruka.Jiraiya.Kushina's voice.A cradle.A swing.A scream.
He stumbled.
The girl stepped forward. Caught him.
Then whispered.
"You are not forgotten."
"You are the stitch left undone."
And vanished.
Naruto was alone again.
But not empty.
The needle was in his hand now.
Still warm.
He looked at it.
Something inside him shifted.
A pull.
North.
He turned toward it.
Started walking.
No plan.
No path.
Just the need to understand.
To find the names he'd burned.
And stitch something new.
—End of Chapter 88—