Heralds of the Dawn
They were called many things—Heralds of the Dawn, Heralds of Hope—but none of it mattered as much as the choice they had made.
They chose his path.
They chose to believe in his words.
They chose to accept his power and transcend their mortal limitations.
In his presence, they felt whole.
Because before Naruto, they were broken people—haunted by shadows that never let them go.
Their past mistakes chased them like ghosts, whispering of failures and regrets.
Their present weighed on their shoulders, suffocating them with expectations and struggles.
They had walked the edge of breaking—some had already snapped, their spirits fractured beyond repair.
But then, they met him.
And suddenly, they realized that breaking wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning of rebuilding.
Each of them had fought battles—not just with enemies, but with themselves.
It was so easy to take the wrong step.
To give in to anger.
To let despair win.
To be swallowed by the darkness.
And yet, somehow, they had made it through.
But not everyone was that strong.
Not everyone could fight through the pain and come out on the other side.
That was why they chose this path—Naruto's path.
Not to become saviors, not to become immortals, but to make the world a little brighter.
To light the way so others wouldn't fall into the same darkness.
For so long, they had believed that they had to be someone else to survive.
A mask to hide the weakness.
A lie to cover the scars.
A facade to pretend they were fine.
But Naruto showed them otherwise.
They didn't have to be perfect.
They didn't have to be someone else.
They could just be themselves—flaws, scars, and all.
And for the first time in their lives, they accepted everything—the good, the bad, the ugly.
Because in the end, it was all a part of them.
And that was what made them strong.
Naruto didn't just give them power.
He gave them understanding.
He taught them that even he had struggled.
That even he had questioned himself.
That even he had walked through the same darkness.
And yet, he found a way forward.
Not by denying his past.
Not by erasing his pain.
But by accepting himself completely.
And in that moment, the Heralds of the Dawn truly understood.
Their journey wasn't about becoming stronger.
It was about becoming whole.
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.
Nothing is holier; nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farm boy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them and whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.
A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought; I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers; I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let immortal speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.
So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. He who has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.
Naruto's gift wasn't just his power.
It wasn't even just his words.
It was his presence—an aura that could burn away shadows and make people believe in hope again.
Even though he didn't have much experience with people, he was born to lead.
A natural force of nature.
Wherever he went, people followed—not because he demanded it, but because they wanted to.
Because in a world drowning in darkness, he was the sunlight that pierced through.
And nobody knew this better than Richard Grayson.
Richard had been born into tragedy.
A circus boy from Gotham, ripped away from his family when the mob killed his parents.
He had become Robin, fighting to right the wrongs of his past.
At first, it had been about revenge—but Bruce had stopped him from taking that path.
So he learned.
He fought.
He captured criminals instead of killing them.
And for a time… things got better.
But Gotham never lets go.
It breaks you.
And even Robin was no exception.
By the time he had become Nightwing, the positivity in him had died.
He hated Bruce's way.
He hated criminals.
He hated that they could do so much evil and get away with it.
So he stopped holding back.
He broke bones.
He broke minds.
He made them afraid.
More than Batman ever could.
And in return?
Bruce hated it.
They fought. They argued. And one day, Richard walked away from him.
Then there was Starfire.
The first woman he truly loved.
A girl with a tragic past, with a light so bright that it drew him in like a moth to a flame.
She had been raped.
She had been experimented on.
She had been sold like an object by her own sister.
And yet, she remained kind.
She laughed. She smiled. She was full of life.
Richard had given her everything.
His time.
His love.
His devotion.
But in the end…
He was just human.
And she was not.
He saw it—the way she held back, the way she didn't enjoy it as much.
He knew.
He always knew.
Tamaranian biology demanded more. She needed more.
But if she had just told him… if she had just been honest…
He would have understood.
He would have let her go.
Instead, she cheated.
How many?
How often?
How long?
The answers didn't matter.
Because the damage was already done.
The rage that followed wasn't just anger.
It was pure destruction.
For the first time in his life, Richard wanted to kill.
If he wasn't a good person, he knew he would have.
And death would have been a mercy compared to what he wanted to do to her.
But in the end, he didn't give in.
Because once the rage burned out, all that was left was ashes.
And a boy too broken to cry anymore.
He buried the pain.
Buried it beneath fake smiles and a sense of duty.
He kept leading, kept fighting, kept protecting—but those who truly knew him…
They knew.
They knew he wasn't the same.
That deep inside, Richard Grayson was just a man acting out a role.
Because the boy who once believed in love and hope had died long ago.
Beast Boy knew.
He had always known.
Ever since that night, when Richard Grayson stopped being the man they knew and became something… different.
BB never left his side.
Neither did Cyborg.
They were more than just teammates—they were brothers.
They checked up on him.
They talked to him.
They tried to make him move on.
But nothing worked.
Richard thought he was above it—that heartbreak was something he could just shrug off.
But when it actually happened…
He broke.
It wasn't just the love that was gone.
It was the trust in love.
And the world around him?
It wasn't exactly helping.
Then came Naruto.
Not with force.
Not with empty words.
But with understanding.
He didn't rush him.
He didn't tell him to "move on."
He didn't try to fix him like a broken tool.
Instead…
He just listened.
And for the first time in a long time, Richard felt like someone truly understood.
Talking helped.
Training helped.
And slowly, the hate faded.
The disappointment melted away.
The pain became just a scar, instead of an open wound.
And while he still hadn't faced Starfire, the anger was gone.
All that remained was a man trying to move forward.
He gave love another try.
This time with Barbara Gordon.
It wasn't easy.
Trust wasn't something he could just switch back on.
But he was trying.
And Barbara?
She understood.
She didn't push.
She just stayed.
Gotham's Guardian
Now, he was more than just Nightwing.
He was Gotham's protector.
He had a team—Robin, Batgirl, Red Hood, and White Rabbit.
And he had allies—the League of Shadows, now under Naruto's control, who extended their reach beyond Earth.
Richard wasn't sure how that would turn out.
But he trusted Naruto.
That was enough.
And in truth, things had changed.
The era of darkness had ended.
Crime was at an all-time low.
And the world?
It was finally at peace.
None of them were normal anymore.
The Super Soldier Serum had been distributed to law enforcement, and heroes like them received an even stronger dose.
Then there was chakra—a gift from Naruto.
It had taken Richard to the level of a Jounin, and his experience put him on par with Asuma Sarutobi.
They trained with Naruto constantly.
And through chakra, they were connected.
If they were in danger, Naruto would know.
If they needed help, Naruto would feel it.
It was an unbreakable bond of brotherhood and friendship.
And Richard?
He knew something that few did.
Naruto, despite being younger, had lived through more than all of them combined.
Because of his clones, his mind had experienced over 200 years of life.
In truth, Naruto was older than any of them.
And Richard knew…
If there was anyone who could truly change the world…
It was him.
High above the city, perched atop a skyscraper, three figures sat, their silhouettes barely visible against the moonlit sky.
Dick Grayson.
Jason Todd.
Tim Drake.
The three Robins.
This was their night—a rare boys' hangout where they could just relax, eat junk food, and talk.
No missions.
No criminals.
No world-ending disasters.
Just them.
Tim took a sip from his drink, glancing at Dick.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
Dick sighed, swirling the can in his hand.
"Our future meeting with Star, you know? I don't know how she's doing… or what I'll feel when we meet."
Jason snorted, clearly drunk, his words slurring slightly.
"Jeez, man, stop being a pansy and grow some balls already. She isn't going to eat you up, and you're not even going alone. You don't even have to talk to her, since Master is handling everything. All because you were too damn slow."
Blunt as always.
Tim rolled his eyes and threw a chip at Jason.
"Come on, bro. Stop being a dick. You wouldn't understand love problems since you've never had any, so maybe shut up about it."
Jason caught the chip midair with his mouth, grinning like a madman.
Dick, however, remained calm.
"I want to talk to her."
That was the truth.
He needed to hear her side.
To understand.
To move on.
And maybe—just maybe—it would help him find new love.
Jason smirked.
"You can do it, man. You're one of us. Let the thot know her place."
Dick chuckled, shaking his head.
"I will, don't worry."
Then, suddenly, a message popped up on his communicator.
He read it.
Smirked.
"Guess we're not having a sausage party all night, boys."
Tim and Jason perked up.
"What's up?"
"Boss woman just called for a party at home base. From the tone, it sounds like good news about Naruto's goal. The kids couldn't have been born this early, so it must be something else."
Tim grinned.
"A big gathering, huh? Guess we'll get to see most of our friends in one place."
Jason stretched, shaking off the alcohol in his system.
"Well, let's not show up looking like crap. We heading back to the manor first?"
Dick gave him a look.
"Do you really want to walk into a high-profile party in these clothes?"
Tim glanced down at their combat suits.
"Oh… yeah. Good point."
They made their way to Wayne Manor, their home—a place that had changed so much over the years.
Before, it had been silent.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Now?
The halls were filled with people, laughter, and life.
Bruce had hired servants, bringing warmth back into the mansion.
More than that, he had taken a page from Naruto's book—finally allowing himself to have love.
He had married Selina Kyle and Talia al Ghul.
It was something none of them expected, but Bruce was happier than ever.
And he wasn't just a husband now.
He was a father.
Talia had given birth to a son.
A boy named Damian Wayne.
Even crazier?
Bruce's vampire transformation had elevated him to immense power.
Crucifier had made him his right-hand man, and Bruce had surpassed even the wildest expectations.
There was no more brooding in the shadows.
No more lonely nights spent chasing ghosts.
After decades of darkness…
The Bat Family had finally found peace.