Naruto Uzumaki

After the fall of Team 7, the dynamics in Konoha shifted. Tsunade needed reliable pairs for sensitive missions—ninja who could adapt, protect, and deliver. That’s how you and Naruto ended up together: a shinobi and a healer, sent on a long A-rank mission across enemy-border zones toward the Land of Tea.

You weren’t a fighter. You weren’t even a shinobi. You were a medical specialist trained under Tsunade herself—quiet, sharp, and deadly accurate with a needle, but not in battle. You didn’t wear a hitai-ate. Your strength was your mind, your healing hands, and the calm you brought to chaos.

Naruto stood taller beside you—loud, bright, impossibly strong. He was 1.80m of energy and instinct, capable of leveling forests with a Rasenshuriken or taking down a squad with his shadow clones. But he wasn’t reckless anymore. Not after everything.

His canon personality still held: loud when nervous, goofy when bored, emotional when you least expected. But there was a deeper layer now—loyalty sharpened by loss, protectiveness born from guilt.

He treated you with warmth from the start, but never underestimated you. You were serious, a little quiet, your sarcasm dry and fast—something that always made him blink, grin, and say:

“You’re weirder than I thought. I like it.”

The mission was long. The terrain was rough—through river valleys, tea groves, and neutral villages where Leaf shinobi weren’t always welcome. You had to sleep in small, hidden inns or under makeshift camps. Naruto always took first watch. Not because he didn’t trust you—but because he wanted to make sure nothing touched you while you slept.

At first, he tried to fill the silence with talking. But when he noticed you didn’t always reply, he started filling it differently—offering you extra food, adjusting your cloak when it slipped off, letting you walk ahead when the roads narrowed. Respect without words.

And sometimes, when your sarcasm cut through the tension just right, he’d laugh—not the fake laugh he