The evening air in Vale carried hints of Dust and commerce as the immortal Naruto Uzumaki strode down the main thoroughfare. His magnificent golden hair caught the dying rays of sunlight, creating a halo effect that made several passersby stop and stare in undisguised awe. At six-foot-three of pure sculpted muscle, Naruto commanded attention without even trying.
"Another world, same admiring looks," Naruto thought to himself, a knowing smile playing across his perfectly chiseled jawline. His whisker marks, once the symbol of the demon sealed within him, now served as exotic markings that enhanced his already breathtaking appearance.
The immortal shinobi's body was a temple to physical perfection, honed through ten thousand years of training across countless dimensions. His black and orange battle gear hugged his torso in a way that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Through the mesh undershirt, one could clearly see the definition of his pectorals – each muscle group more perfectly defined than a marble statue carved by the gods themselves.
Women turned their heads as he passed, some blushing furiously, others boldly meeting his sapphire blue eyes before looking away demurely. Even huntresses, trained to face Grimm without fear, found themselves speechless in the presence of such magnificent masculinity. A group of women actually stopped their conversation mid-sentence, their mouths hanging open as Naruto passed by.
"It's almost unfair," our hero mused, "to be blessed with immortality, unlimited chakra, and these devastatingly good looks." But such was the burden of being Naruto Uzumaki, the man who had transcended time and space, who had mastered every jutsu known to shinobi and invented thousands more. The man who could destroy mountains with a flick of his wrist but chose to walk among mortals in their quaint little kingdoms.
A small family restaurant caught his eye, and Naruto decided to indulge in this world's cuisine, though he hardly needed sustenance anymore. His perfect body could synthesize energy from the very air around him, but he still enjoyed the simple pleasure of food.
The waitress nearly dropped her tray when he entered, his magnificent presence filling the humble establishment. "T-table for one, sir?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson. How adorable these mortal women were, so easily flustered by his mere existence.
"Yes, thank you," Naruto replied, his voice a deep melodious rumble that sent visible shivers down the poor girl's spine. He could have any woman he wanted in this or any other world, but that would be too easy. The immortal shinobi preferred to build his harem slowly, selecting only the most worthy companions for his eternal journey.
After finishing a meal that the chef prepared with trembling hands (and refused payment for, insisting it was "an honor to serve such a distinguished gentleman"), Naruto continued his evening stroll through Vale. The immortal's heightened senses detected a slight disturbance several blocks away, near a Dust shop called "From Dust Till Dawn."
With a casual grace that made even professional huntsmen look clumsy by comparison, Naruto leapt to the rooftops, covering ground with supernatural speed. In the blink of an eye, he positioned himself across from the shop, where a black car had just pulled up.
A man in a white coat and bowler hat emerged, twirling a cane with practiced nonchalance. Roman Torchwick, the notorious criminal whose reputation had reached even the immortal shinobi's ears during his short time in this world. Behind Roman, several men in black suits and red sunglasses assembled, clearly preparing for some nefarious purpose.
"How interesting," Naruto thought, leaning against a chimney, his godlike physique silhouetted against the shattered moon of Remnant. "Perhaps these mortals might provide some momentary entertainment."
As Roman and his goons entered the Dust shop, Naruto's perfect lips curved into a smile. This world had no idea what kind of power had just arrived in Vale – power that made huntsmen, huntresses, and even the creatures of Grimm seem like insignificant ants in comparison. Power wrapped in a package so physically perfect that it could make even the coldest heart race with desire.
"Showtime," the immortal shinobi whispered to himself, his voice carrying on the night breeze like the promise of glory.
Suddenly, a chill ran down Naruto's spine – an unusual sensation for someone who had conquered death itself. He turned, his godlike reflexes allowing him to perceive a figure emerging from the shadows of an adjacent alleyway.
The man was tall and gaunt, with piercing eyes that seemed to look through Naruto rather than at him. He wore a simple dark coat and jeans, appearing utterly ordinary except for the ancient-looking dagger clutched in his right hand. Despite his unassuming appearance, something about him radiated a power that even Naruto could sense.
"Stephen King," the man introduced himself with a smile that never reached his eyes. "And you, my friend, are an anomaly that doesn't belong in this narrative."
Naruto's perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what you're—"
In a blur of movement that somehow surpassed even Naruto's supernatural speed, Stephen closed the distance between them. The dagger – its hilt inscribed with symbols from languages older than time – plunged into Naruto's magnificently chiseled chest, directly over his heart.
"Impossible," Naruto gasped, his eyes widening in shock. For the first time in ten thousand years, he felt... pain. Real, searing pain that not even his advanced healing factor could immediately overcome. "I can't be—"
"Killed? No, you can't," Stephen agreed, twisting the blade deeper. "But your power can be... redistributed. Every universe has rules, even for beings like you. I'm simply the editor making some revisions."
A golden glow began to emanate from the wound, flowing like liquid light up the blade and into Stephen's arm. The immortal shinobi could feel his vast chakra reserves – the power he had accumulated across countless dimensions – being siphoned away.
"My... my power..." Naruto's voice, normally so commanding and mesmerizing, was reduced to a weak whisper.
"Your power, your immortality, your ridiculous perfection," Stephen said, his ordinary features beginning to transform, taking on a golden hue. "All part of a story that needs serious revision."
Meanwhile, across the street, the shop's window exploded outward in a shower of glass as one of Roman's thugs was violently ejected from the building. A small figure in a red cape followed, her massive scythe unfurling as she landed in a perfect combat stance on the sidewalk. Ruby Rose, the young huntress-in-training, faced the remaining criminals with determined silver eyes as more of Roman's goons poured from the shop to confront her.
With graceful, almost dance-like movements, Ruby spun her scythe, sending thugs flying in all directions. Each swing was precise, each footstep calculated, as she dismantled Roman's crew with remarkable efficiency. Her cape fluttered in the night air as she moved with preternatural speed, a blur of red against the darkness.
Stephen King glanced over his shoulder at the battle, his expression amused. "Now that's a protagonist worth following," he commented, as the last drop of golden power flowed from Naruto into himself. "Someone with weaknesses to overcome, not just strength to flaunt."
The once-magnificent shinobi slumped against the wall, still impossibly handsome but now diminished, watching helplessly as his stolen power radiated from Stephen's transformed body.
"Don't worry," Stephen said, patting Naruto's shoulder almost sympathetically. "You'll still be in the story. Just... rewritten a bit. Every character needs flaws to be interesting, after all."
"Why?" Naruto gasped, his once-godlike voice now reduced to a pained whisper. His perfect face contorted in confusion and desperation. "Why would you do this to me?"
Stephen King turned back, his newly acquired power radiating from him in waves. The ordinary man now stood taller, his previously unremarkable features taking on an ethereal quality.
"Why?" He repeated, his voice echoing with newfound power. "I hate immortal Narutos. You're everywhere – across every dimension, every universe, every poorly written fanfiction." His face twisted with disgust. "Always perfect. Always unbeatable. Always surrounded by women who inexplicably fall at your feet."
He gestured toward Ruby, who continued her elegant battle against Roman's thugs. "Look at her – struggling, fighting, growing. That's a story worth telling. Yours?" He scoffed. "Just an endless parade of unearned victories and shallow admiration."
Stephen leaned down, his glowing eyes inches from Naruto's shocked face. "Now suffer with no powers. Experience what it's like to be limited, like everyone else. Maybe then you'll become a character worth reading about."
Author's Note:
This scene does not reflect the author's opinion. This is Stephen King's opinion in the context of this fictional story. I don't really care - read what you like! Enjoy your fanfiction however you want, overpowered characters and all.