The days following Natasha's departure felt strange for Naruto. The apartment, once a place of discovery and lively discussion, was now steeped in a silence that echoed. Despite his cosmic powers and his mind illuminated by the Source, he felt an emptiness—an absence. For the first time, he experienced longing, that gnawing sensation of wanting someone's presence.
He had watched Natasha leave, her determined silhouette disappearing into the elevator. He knew she was on a mission, in a place where danger was constant. And despite the certainty the Source had given him about the outcome of Tony Stark's trial, a new, very human worry had taken root in his heart. It wasn't fear for her survival—he could still feel his connection to her, could sense she was alive—but rather the uncertainty of their separation.
Naruto spent his days wandering the apartment, then exploring New York alone. He observed people, their interactions, couples holding hands, friends sharing laughter. Every scene deepened his desire to understand the bond he had begun to form with Natasha. He replayed their conversations in his mind, the expressions on her face, the sound of her laughter. He recalled the touch of her hand on his, the warmth she had felt when he had shared a fragment of his attributes.
It wasn't a bond built on survival or duty. It was something new, something fragile and precious. Natasha—the hardened spy, the woman of a thousand masks—had lowered her guard with him. She had accepted him, this cosmic stranger, without judgment. And in return, he had seen in her a vulnerability and strength she hid from the world.
He practiced his powers, no longer in the vast nebulas of the Source, but within the limits of Earth. He created tiny galaxies in the palm of his hand, then let them dissolve. He slowed time to watch pigeons move through the park, or accelerated the growth of a seed into a tree. But even with the vastness of his abilities, something was missing. The connection.
One evening, as he sat by the window watching the sleeping city, Naruto felt a disturbance in the fabric of reality. The Source had shown him major events—convergence points of destiny. And tonight, one of those points was unfolding. He closed the Eyes of Origin and focused on the vibrational waves rippling through spacetime.
He sensed the burning breath of a distant explosion, the howling desert winds, panic, and resolve. He followed Natasha's energy signature, feeling her presence at the heart of the action. He also sensed Tony Stark's signature—a tormented creative force, wrapped in pain and resilience. There were explosions, gunfire, the chaos of battle. Natasha was in the middle of it all, true to herself, fighting to protect what needed to be protected.
Naruto was tempted to intervene. His powers would allow him to be there in an instant, to neutralize every threat, to end the suffering. But he held back. The Source had taught him the importance of free will and process. Some destinies needed to be forged through pain to give birth to something greater. Tony Stark's trial was one of those. And Natasha had her own role to play.
Instead, Naruto sent a subtle wave of energy through their connection—a pulse of strength and support directed at Natasha. It wasn't physical aid, but a confirmation of his presence, a whisper of trust and encouragement. He didn't know if she would consciously feel it, but he hoped it would give her a spark of resolve.
Hours passed. The intensity of the battle lessened, replaced by a lingering tension, then a precarious calm. Naruto felt Stark's signature shift, grow stronger—but with a new complexity, marked by trauma and determination. He understood then—the moment had passed. The chrysalis had broken, and a new Tony Stark was beginning to emerge. And Natasha—he could still feel her—her aura of strength and discretion intact.
The next morning, Naruto stood at the apartment door, a nervous anticipation churning in his chest—a feeling he had never known before. It was excitement mixed with a hint of anxiety. How would Natasha be? How would she react?
He didn't have to wait long. The door opened, and there stood Natasha. Her red hair was slightly tousled, her face marked with fatigue, but her green eyes were as vivid as ever. She wore a dark travel outfit, a bag slung over her shoulder.
Their eyes met. A charged silence hung in the air—not heavy, but full of countless unspoken emotions.
Then, a slow, sincere smile lit up Natasha's face. A smile Naruto had rarely seen—a smile that reached her eyes.
"Hi, Naruto," she said, her voice hoarse with fatigue but carrying a trace of unexpected warmth.
"Hi, Natasha," he replied, a wave of lightness flooding his heart. He didn't know why, but seeing her there, safe and sound, brought him immense relief.
She stepped inside, set down her bag, and looked at him again. "You look... different. More..." She searched for the word.
"More human?" Naruto suggested with a small smile.
"Yes. Or at least, more... serene."
She stepped closer to him, and to his great surprise, she hugged him. It was a brief contact, but for Naruto, it was a revolution. The initial shock gave way to a deep, comforting warmth. He felt the beat of her heart against his, the scent of her perfume mixed with the dust of travel. It was a physical and emotional sensation that surpassed all cosmic comprehension.
"I'm glad to see you again," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
"Me too, Natasha. Very glad," Naruto replied, his voice tinged with a new emotion.
When she stepped back, their hands brushed, then instinctively clasped—a silent connection that spoke louder than words.
Natasha recounted her trip to Afghanistan—the Stark mission, his capture, and how he escaped by building his first rudimentary armor in a cave. She omitted some sensitive details of her espionage work, but she spoke with candor about the dangers, the tension, and the relief.
"He's not the same," she said, her gaze distant. "He's seen horror, and it changed him. He's... more focused. More determined. And I think he wants to do things differently now."
"That's what the Source showed me," Naruto said. "The process of transformation. Pain as a catalyst."
"You knew all that?" Natasha asked, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and a hint of irritation.
"I knew the probabilities. Not the details. And I couldn't interfere. Some lessons must be learned through direct experience," Naruto explained. "It's something I'm learning with you as well."
Natasha nodded. "You're right." She sank heavily onto the couch. "I need a shower and sleep. But before that..." She looked at him, an intense gaze in her green eyes. "While I was out there, in the desert, I felt you. A kind of energy, a presence. That was you, wasn't it?"
Naruto nodded. "Yes. I sent you a pulse of support. I didn't want to interfere, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you."
A tender smile formed on Natasha's lips. "It helped. More than you can imagine. I felt... less alone."
It was a moment of pure vulnerability between them—a step forward in their relationship. The hardened spy admitted she had felt the need for connection, and the cosmic being had responded, not with destructive power, but with a simple act of emotional support.