Naruto stood silently, arms folded, watching Piximon as he barked orders and pushed the kids harder than they'd ever been pushed. There was something familiar in the way he moved—not just physically, but emotionally. That silent weight behind every word. The way he raised his voice not out of anger, but to protect. The way he scolded not to belittle, but to strengthen.
It reminded him too much of home.
Kakashi-sensei… Jiraiya.
The names echoed in his chest like old scars that still burned on rainy days. His heart clenched at the memory of their smiles—Kakashi's lazy one-eyed squint, always hiding grief behind a book; Jiraiya's loud, perverted laughter, always pretending to be carefree when he was really carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders.
Piximon… you're just like them, Naruto thought bitterly. Smiling on the outside. Carrying the weight of the world when no one's looking.
He hated how easily he could recognize it.
Because it meant he wasn't the only one who'd lost too much and still stood tall anyway.
"Family…" he whispered under his breath, eyes narrowing as he looked down.
That word had always meant the world to him. He'd built it from nothing. Piece by piece. Bond by bond. And now, separated by dimensions, time, or fate—he didn't know when he'd see them again.
Were they okay? Did time even pass the same way for them? Would they remember him if he ever made it back?
He clenched his fist.
The ache of loss was always there. Like a second heartbeat.
But…
Watching Piximon push those kids, demanding more, not out of cruelty but because he had to—Naruto understood. He really understood. That was what it meant to be a teacher. To be someone who stayed behind so others could move forward. Just like Kakashi. Just like Jiraiya. Just like him now.
He walked up slowly, just as the kids started their next drill.
Piximon noticed him, but said nothing. His eyes briefly flicked to Naruto's, and in that quiet moment, something passed between them. A silent understanding.
A warrior's bond.
A teacher's burden.
"I guess we're more alike than I thought," Naruto muttered, giving a small grin. "You hide it well."
Piximon didn't respond directly. He simply fluttered a little higher, voice sharp again.
"Mimi! Less whining, more dodging! You think Devimon's going to wait for you to fix your makeup?"
Naruto chuckled under his breath, but his eyes remained somber.
You'd have liked them, Ero-sennin. You too, Kakashi-sensei.
And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.
Not in this world.
Not yet.
-----------------------------
Piximon's voice cut through the air like a blade, snapping Naruto out of his thoughts with all the sharpness of a seasoned commander.
"Stop daydreaming, Naruto. I've seen you fight. You might be better than these kids—might—but don't think that makes you special. You're still an amateur."
Naruto blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Tch… Harsh."
Piximon folded his stubby arms, the lines on his small, round face suddenly looking older than the stars themselves. "Humanoid Digimon are the most efficient in close combat. Their forms are honed for speed, flexibility, and strategy. Compared to them… your skills are wild. Unrefined. You're still playing at being a fighter."
Naruto raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait… 'Humanoid Digimon'? You mean there are Digimon like me?"
Piximon gave a small, tired nod. "Of course. The Digital World adapts to the influences of the realms it's tethered to. Whatever is famous, iconic, or widely acknowledged in that world—objects, creatures, even people—can manifest here as Digimon or digital phenomena. Look around. Buses, telephones, vending machines. Think that's a coincidence?"
That made Naruto pause. "So… what? If a superhero or ninja gets famous in one world, the Digital World might just make a version of them?"
Izzy, who had been listening nearby with quiet intensity, suddenly spoke up, his fingers subconsciously tightening on his laptop. "Wait… does that mean famous people can also be digitized?"
Piximon looked at him, then gave a deliberate nod. "Yes."
The air shifted slightly.
Izzy turned toward Naruto, his brows drawn together. He said nothing, but his gaze lingered. Hard. Analytical. Suspicious.
Naruto didn't notice. He was too focused on the implications. "So, uh… has anyone ever, like, been reborn in the Digital World? I mean, people from other worlds?"
Piximon was quiet for a long moment, his gaze suddenly distant, like he was sifting through memories he didn't want to recall.
"…Yes," he finally said. "There have been Digimon that originated from beings of other worlds. Their souls, their essence, or their legends… whatever force left a strong enough mark. The Digital World copies and compresses that data, forming Digimon with echoes of those past lives. But—"
He looked Naruto in the eye, his voice grave.
"You won't meet them."
Naruto's breath caught.
"Why not?"
"Because they're all gone. Every Mega-level Digimon… dead. Most Ultimate-level Digimon… also dead. Those reborn legends? They were always in those tiers. They burned brighter than any others, and were the first to fall in the last war."
Piximon's voice dipped, a shadow passing over it.
"There's a reason this world is as quiet as it is. The titans are gone. Only sparks remain."
Naruto stood still, the weight of the words settling in. If what Piximon said was true… then maybe—just maybe—his presence here wasn't an accident. Maybe the Digital World had called to him. Created a version of him. Or maybe…
He was the last of them.
"Then what am I?" he asked quietly.
Piximon didn't answer.
He only stared at Naruto for a moment longer, then turned away and snapped, "Training isn't going to do itself! All of you, back to it! And you, Naruto—stop sulking and move your feet. You want to be useful? Prove it."
As the kids scrambled, Naruto stood rooted in place, Izzy's quiet stare still on him.
And in that moment, one thing was certain.
The mystery of why he was here had only gotten deeper.
-------------------------
Izzy's gaze had been locked on Naruto like a puzzle he had to solve—an equation that didn't balance, a variable that shouldn't exist. But before he could take a step forward or even speak the thoughts forming on his tongue—
Thud.
"Oof—!"
Izzy doubled over as Sora's fist sank cleanly into his gut, not hard enough to cause damage, but hard enough to snap him out of it.
He coughed and looked up, eyes wide.
Sora stood over him, arms crossed, eyes stern but not unkind.
"Not now, Izzy," she said quietly, but firmly. "Just—stop."
Izzy blinked, confused. "But—he—don't you think we should—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head slowly. "I know what you're thinking. But this isn't the time. Not when he's still figuring himself out."
Izzy swallowed his protest and followed her gaze toward Naruto. The blonde was laughing awkwardly with Gomamon and Joe, trying to play it cool, but the way he glanced at the others, the faint tension in his smile—it said enough.
He hadn't noticed the suspicion, but if someone did bring it up… he would. And it might break him.
Izzy looked away, ashamed.
"I wasn't trying to hurt him…"
"I know," Sora said gently. "But it would. You saw what he was like before—he already questioned if he belonged, if he was even real. That moment in the cave, it was hard for all of us to watch. But he came out stronger. Don't send him back in just because you're curious."
Izzy nodded reluctantly, adjusting his glasses.
"You're right. I… I didn't think how deep it could go."
"Good," she said, patting his shoulder. "Think about that next time."
He gave her a small, grateful smile, then sat down to cool his mind.
Meanwhile, across the field, Naruto turned to Joe.
"Hey, you think Piximon's always this cranky, or is it just me?"
Joe laughed. "Definitely not just you."
Sora watched them from a distance, a small smile on her face, but behind it was a quiet worry. Not just for Naruto—but for all of them. Things were getting more complicated, and the Digital World wasn't going to wait for them to grow up.
She just hoped they'd have the strength to meet what was coming.
------------------------------
By the time Piximon called for a break, the sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a faint orange hue across the Digital World. The field where they trained was littered with the sound of ragged breathing, groans of pain, and the occasional whimper of a Digimon too tired to cry out.
Naruto collapsed onto his back, sweat dripping from his brow, his shirt torn and soaked with blood from cuts that were slowly knitting back together. Even with his healing, the sheer frequency of injury and recovery left him drained. Muscles screamed with every movement, bones ached from repeated fractures, and his pride… that had long since been broken, only to be reforged.
Beside him, Palmon lay barely conscious, her arms scraped raw and legs trembling. Biyomon's wing was dislocated, and Tentomon was sparking occasionally from overexertion. Even the sturdy ones like Gabumon and Gomamon were curled up in pain.
Patamon—sweet, tiny Patamon—was barely breathing, wings limp like wet paper.
And Sparky, Naruto's partner, was still twitching from the electric shocks Piximon had used to trigger reflex dodges.
Piximon floated silently among them, his face hard but his eyes… not unkind. There was pain there. Guilt, maybe. But he didn't show it openly. Instead, his voice echoed through the field like a hammer on stone.
"Pain tells you you're alive. But strength… strength tells you why you survive."
No one replied. They didn't need to. They understood, even through the agony.
Piximon landed in the center of the group. "The Digital World doesn't show mercy. I've seen Digimon with potential die because they weren't pushed. I won't let that happen to you."
Matt, limping forward and carrying Gabumon on his back, spoke between labored breaths. "We… we get it. You're trying to make us stronger. But... you nearly killed us."
Piximon didn't deny it. "Yes. And next time, I may have to go further."
Naruto clenched his fists. He was used to pain, to battle, to brutal training. But this… this wasn't just physical. It was meant to shatter their mental limits. To purge hesitation. To teach them to embrace suffering without flinching.
Then he turned to the others. "Rest now. Tomorrow, the real training begins."
Naruto looked up at the night sky, trying to steady his breathing.
If this was the warm-up… then they were all in for hell.
---------------------------
The night air was cool, carrying the soft hum of distant winds and the occasional flicker of starlight. The sky stretched endlessly above them, speckled with countless stars that had witnessed the rise and fall of countless worlds. Naruto, despite the brutal training and the aching exhaustion that weighed him down, found a certain comfort in the stillness of the night. It was a rare moment of peace, a break from the grueling expectations that Piximon had set for them.
As he approached, he could see the small figure of Piximon sitting outside, perched on a rock, his wings folded tightly against his back. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, casting long shadows that made him appear even more otherworldly. The small, ancient Digimon seemed lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the moon as if it held some answer to the endless cycle of survival, loss, and rebirth.
Naruto hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach the quiet figure. His mind was still clouded with the pain from the day's training, but there was something about Piximon that pulled him in. Despite his small, seemingly innocent appearance, Naruto sensed the weight of experience, of untold stories, and untapped wisdom. The kind of wisdom he had once found in his own teachers—Kakashi, Jiraiya. Both were gone, lost in time. But now, in this strange new world, he found himself facing a different teacher, one who had seen much more than Naruto could ever imagine.
"Piximon?" Naruto called softly, his voice carrying through the night air. "Mind if I sit?"
Piximon didn't respond at first, his gaze still fixed on the heavens, but after a moment, he gave a slight nod. "Come, sit if you wish."
Naruto lowered himself onto a nearby rock, sitting down beside him. There was a long silence between them, the kind that seemed to stretch on for ages, as if the moon itself had stopped to listen.
"I've been thinking," Naruto began, his voice quiet but steady. "About the training. You push us hard... but it feels like there's more to it than just making us stronger. Something deeper."
Piximon let out a soft sigh, his wings twitching as he finally turned to look at Naruto. His eyes were ancient, filled with centuries of pain and wisdom, the echoes of worlds long gone.
"It's not just about strength, Naruto," Piximon said, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone who had so relentlessly tested them. "Strength comes, yes, but it's not the only thing that will carry you through what's to come. You need something deeper, something more. In the end, it's not just about how hard you can fight, but how much you can endure without breaking. That's the real test."
Naruto nodded, understanding but still hungry for more. He had seen how Piximon carried himself—how his very presence seemed to be a reflection of loss, of survival. "I can tell you've been through a lot. You're not like the others. You're... different. I can see it in the way you train us. It's like you're preparing us for something more, something that's coming. What is it? What's waiting for us in the future?"
Piximon's expression darkened for a moment, the joy of teaching flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with the solemn weight of the truth. He turned his gaze back to the moon, and for a moment, he seemed to be lost in time again, his thoughts drifting to places far beyond this world.
"You're right, Naruto," he said slowly. "I've seen a lot. I've lived through worlds being destroyed, entire universes erased. I've watched it happen over and over again, and I've always been alone at the end of it. But this time… this time feels different. There's something special about you all. You're the chosen ones—the Digidestined—entrusted with powers that come from Yggdrasil itself. You have a chance to break the cycle, to protect this world from the darkness that always seems to swallow everything."
Naruto leaned in, captivated by the older Digimon's words. "But why us? Why now? And what about you? I can feel that there's something in you—something from the past that's still haunting you. What's your story, Piximon?"
Piximon's expression softened, and for the first time, he allowed himself to show a hint of vulnerability. "I am the last survivor of the previous universe that was destroyed. A universe where everything, including the Digital World, was reborn, reset… wiped clean. The Demon Lords, the Royal Knights, the Digital Sovereigns, and even the Holy Dragons—each of us was chosen to survive the destruction and enter this new world. But in the process, most of the others perished. They died in the cycle of resets, leaving me here, alone. I watched as everything I knew, everything I had fought for, disappeared."
Naruto felt a pang of sympathy for Piximon, knowing that he could relate to the feeling of loss—of being the only one left when everything had crumbled. But he also knew that Piximon's resolve was something stronger than just survival. It was a resolve to change the future, to make sure that the next world—this one—was different.
"But you didn't give up," Naruto said quietly. "You're still here, teaching us, pushing us. You see something in us, don't you?"
Piximon nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of hope and wariness. "Yes, Naruto. I see potential. This time, maybe you all will survive. Maybe, just maybe, this time the ending will be different. But only if you all push yourselves to your absolute limits. Only if you fight not just for survival, but for each other. For this world."
Naruto looked up at the moon, feeling the weight of Piximon's words settle deep in his chest. The moon was the same one that had watched over countless battles, countless wars, and countless heroes. It was the same moon that had watched over his teachers, over his own world.
He turned back to Piximon, his expression hardening with newfound determination. "We'll do it. I'll make sure we do. I won't let this world be destroyed. Not this time."
Piximon gave a small, approving smile, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "That's the spirit, Naruto. But remember, you'll need more than just strength. You'll need heart. That's the key."
With that, Naruto stood up, feeling the pull of his companions, who were resting, recovering, waiting for him. He took one last look at Piximon, who was still watching the moon as if contemplating something far beyond their understanding.
"Thanks, Piximon," Naruto said, his voice firm. "We won't let you down."
And with that, he walked back toward the camp, ready for whatever challenge awaited him in the days to come.