In the course of history, Rōran would eventually fade into the dust of the past, becoming ruins swallowed by yellow sand.
Naruto could simply go kill Mukade, severing the puppeteer's shriveled neck with one stroke of his sword. There was no need to waste words with Sara here.
He had the strength. The battle at Sunagakure had already proved that.
But Naruto needed people.
He had the ambition to change the Shinobi World, but one person's strength alone could never accomplish that.
He had seen too much: the Bloody Mist Village of Kirigakure, Iwagakure's relentless militarism, Kumogakure's belligerence, and the dark currents beneath Konoha's outward prosperity.
No matter how strong one person was, he could not cut through the tangled hatred and interests of this world.
He did not want to cast Infinite Tsukuyomi. That kind of false peace had never been an option for him.
What he wanted was real change, the day when everyone could understand one another.
That required strength, and more than that, companions.
Still, he had his teacher's ideals as his guiding faith, and that sustained him as he moved forward.
The survivors of Rōran would indeed still exist twenty years later.
Naruto might need that strength, or he might not. Either way, it could not hurt.
In the silence, Sara felt someone take hold of her wrist.
The hand was warm and strong, its heat seeping through the thin fabric into her skin.
Sara jerked her head up and found Naruto's face close to hers, his blue eyes startlingly bright in the fluorite's glow.
Her face flushed instantly, her red hair almost bristling. She instinctively struggled twice, only to find that his hand did not budge.
"Well... well... if I find out you're falsely accusing Anrokuzan, I'll write to Sunagakure and have you expelled