With the Kyuubi’s help, Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke have successfully landed in the past, armed with a completely fleshed-out plan to get rid of the bad guys and save the world. (Again.) The only problem? When it comes to the transmigration of souls and time-travel jutsus done under the influence, Kurama has absolutely, incredibly terrible aim.

Utakata has never considered himself overly important in the grand scheme of things. But when, rather than returning to the afterlife, he finds himself back in a Kiri controlled by the Sandaime Mizukage, he makes a choice. A few well-placed changes might be enough to shift the course of the future, in the end.

An alternate Naruto ending, in which there are ghosts with a plan, teams reunited, apologies, and happy endings all around.

In which Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are dimension-hopping superheroes. Kind of. More or less.

Tobirama comes to on a field heavy with the scent of blood, to a rout of shinobi in unfamiliar uniforms but sporting familiar hitai-ate. There's a whisper in his head, paradise denied, but death is in front of him and he can't waste time on regrets.

It’s Jiraiya who brings him the news, bare hours after the decision has been reached.

“Twenty years,” Orochimaru says, cupping Sakumo's cheek, even though there's nothing soft in his expression. “Twenty years of looking for a way to bring you back, not just find you again. And all it took was a little boy with a handful of inspiring words.”

Obito gets lost on the way back to the afterlife.

Shukaku fixes the timeline. Grumpily. And with a lot of bloodshed.

Neji is nineteen. He’s Hokage. The House system has officially been demolished, and the key to his seal, to every Caged Bird Seal, is sitting on the desk in front of him. It feels like freedom, and maybe a little like terror.

The first person Kakashi meets when he staggers out of the house, covered in blood, is Uchiha Obito.

With a shaky breath, Obito pulls his mouth away, wraps his arms around Kisame's chest and presses up against him. “I wasn’t late,” he says, more to himself than Kisame. “I got there in time. I wasn’t late. I saved you.”

“Oh my god,” Jiraiya says, staring up at the ceiling.

Obito turns himself into the Whomping Willow. It goes great, right up until people start making a nuisance of themselves under his roots.

Tsunade smiles, thin and bare with fury. “Sensei,” she says, and steps forward. It seems for a moment like Sarutobi is going to try to hug her, but she lifts her chin, meets his eyes, and he falters in the face of her expression. Falters, stops, but Tsunade doesn’t. She reaches up, pulls the hat from Sarutobi's head, and says, “I'm deposing you, sensei. You have an hour to leave the office or I’ll be forced to make you.”

“Shh,” Kakashi breathes against his lips, and there's a look in his eyes that he gets on the very worst missions, in the middle of a battle, when there's nothing left in him of restraint or anything beyond instinct and act-react. “You’re safe, Shisui. And I'm going to fix it.”

Zabuza fishes a dying Konoha nin out of the Nakano. That one action is the falling stone that kicks off an avalanche.

Ashura stops to plant a few seeds and changes the course of destiny.

“You’re all right?” the stranger asks gently. “I'm sorry for the fright, it’s been a long time since I healed a human, and you’ve changed greatly over the years. Your chakra especially.” A human, implying that he isn't one. Izuna swallows, licks his lips, and wonders what the hell it means that he was just in a liplock with a god.

Kakashi has a lot of work ahead of him if he wants Tsuna to survive, but at least the company is agreeable. And cute.

Shūhei is in the middle of trying to figure out how to tell his captain we don’t do things that way anymore because that system is outdated and also wrong when the whole world lurches under his feet.

Zabuza's got a thing for vicious, especially when it comes wrapped up in a cute package.

“What is that,” Obito says flatly. “It is a cactus,” Gaara says, like that’s the only question here. Deftly, with an air of ceremony, he sets the pot in Obito's hands, and then tells him, “It reminded me of you.”

“You want to hire a Kiri nin?” the swordsman says in surprise.

Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.

“There’s a Lantern out here?” Hal asks incredulously.

“There’s too much to be done,” Padmé says, and looks back to meet the holo’s flickering gaze. “Our base on Ithor was compromised, and I can't take the time to vet a bodyguard—” “Then it’s a good thing,” Obi-Wan says with careful cheer, “that I found one for you.”

A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.

“Be careful,” Jon says, though Nico likely doesn’t need the reminder. “If the Sith Lord notices—” “Then he’d best not,” Nico says, and vanishes with a ripple of light. A moment later, the door opens, then shuts again, and Knol snorts. “Fancy tricks, all of you,” she says, amused, and takes the hand Jon offers her. “Says the woman who eats fire,” Jon says. “With the Force.”

“Leia, it’s fine,” a man says, and it’s not quite soothing. More entreating, and Boba wrinkles his nose, shifting slightly. His hands are cuffed behind him, and one of his captors was smart enough to steal the lockpicks from his belt. Boba hates smart enemies. “It’s not fine,” the woman says acidly. “Luke, he tried to kill us!” “Only once,” Luke says stubbornly. “And technically he was taking Han alive.”

Tup gathers his courage, leans in. With a flicker of humor, Mace dips his head to meet him, taking the kiss without hesitation. Behind them, someone chokes.

“It’s Chancellor Palpatine,” he says clearly, as steadily as he’s able to. “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord. I need your help to kill him.” There's one beat of stunned, frozen silence. Then, careful, Thire clears his throat. “You want us to kill the Supreme Chancellor?” he asks. “Yes,” Mace says, and when he sits back, all three commanders are staring at him. Something in his chest sinks, grim and resigned. “I can't—” “Thire, get those damn boxes open,” Fox orders. “Stone, we need some kind of distraction. Grab some detonators.”

This, Fox thinks, staring up at the fabric of the tent above him, is absolutely not what he remembers from before he closed his eyes. Right along with the realization comes the desperate, sinking sort of feeling that what he was most afraid of happened again. One step down the hallway in the Senate, heading somewhere, and then—

“I can’t believe you ruined my boots,” Leia says, outraged, and pushes Dooku’s face further into the mud.

“No,” Sabé hisses, catching the edge of Kycina's red hood and dragging her back down behind cover.

Padmé hears the sharp, ragged gasp, and she’s already turning when Fives jerks up off the bed, on his feet in an instant. A fist lashes out, almost too quick to see, but Padmé catches it, twists, pulls, and when Fives staggers, he falls right into her with a cry. “Easy,” Padmé says, and catches him, holds him up as he gets his bearings. “You’re all right, I swear. You’re safe, Fives.”

Fox has the galaxy’s greatest hero in his bed, he’s well-fed, he’s astonishingly well-rested, and he has a whole week of leave saved up that starts in about six hours, during which no one is allowed to bother him with anything work-related even if Coruscant gets invaded by brain-stealing worms. Again. He made sure Thorn and Thire both knew that. Which makes it ten times as unpleasant to wake up to someone bypassing the chime entirely and just pounding right on his door.

“What?” Rex's voice shades towards alarm. “Cody, that’s a bad idea—” “You can't go,” Cody says reasonably. “You have to monitor communications and make sure the generals have an extraction ready if they need it. Ghost Company’s down half its men right now, so I have the chance.” “That’s exactly the tone you used when you explained why you were overcome with the urge to punch General Grievous in the metal face,” Rex informs him. “Cody, no.”

There’s a hollow thud, a sound like a gong, a war-cry that makes Alpha-17 freeze in his tracks, and Priest goes flying back into the window.

“Can't kriffing believe he sent a Naboo to kriffing Tatooine,” Owen says, too loud, but—they're in the middle of the wilderness. There's no one who’s going to hear him except the Force, and if it does hear him, he hopes it turns around and beats some light-bedamned sense into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s skull. In his lap, fully entranced by the corner of the blanket Owen has him bundled in, Luke coos, beams, and flips his tail. The fancy, flowing, colorful fins slap Owen’s thigh, and he sighs, tugs the bottom of the wrap down to hide as much as he can.

There's a Jedi standing on the landing platform, entirely unmoving, and he’s been there for almost ten minutes now.