Konoha, in the cramped apartment that had originally belonged to Naruto Uzumaki.
Sunlight streamed through the slightly dusty window, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow across the floor.
The apartment was very tidy, and the scent of old books hung in the air.
In the middle of the room, on the old single bed.
A blond boy slowly opened his eyes, like a stone statue abruptly waking from a thousand-year slumber.
His blue eyes were as clear as the sky after rain, yet seemed steeped in endless ages and the rhythms of nature.
At that moment, those eyes were filled with a newborn's bewilderment and an extreme unfamiliarity with controlling his own body.
He sat on the bed in a meditative pose, having remained motionless for who knew how long.
His joints felt rusted, his muscles frozen.
He raised a hand awkwardly, his knuckles giving a faint crack like machinery starting up again after going without oil for years.
"Did it work?"
A calm voice, tinged with concern and anticipation, came from the other side of the room.
Looking toward the voice, he saw another figure identical to the boy on the bed sitting at the desk against the wall.
He had the same brilliant blond hair and deep blue eyes, but his bearing was quieter, more restrained, even a little scholarly.
He held a thick book with no words on its cover. Its yellowed pages spoke of its considerable age.
After asking his question, the Naruto clone at the desk unhurriedly slipped a metal bookmark bearing an intricate iris design into the page he had just finished reading, then gently closed the book as though it were a fragile treasure.
Only after doing all that did he raise his eyes to look at his "self" on the bed