So, here's a potentially fun little idea I had pop into my head. Destiny is the property of Bungie and Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

The desolation of the once beautiful Earth stretched off into the distance farther than any eye could see from the ground. Hollowed shells of buildings and cars intermixed with the bare, decomposing skeletons of highways and infrastructure, a tribute to the damage done in the long war since fall of Humanity's Golden Age, since they had been forced to retreat to the Last City during the collapse, the last place the once mighty Traveler could defend, and the place where they would make their final stand.

Or, so one would assume. It was here that the Ghosts were born upon the Traveler's last breath, and it was here that the first Guardians arose; immortal, unbelievably powerful, and utterly ruthless towards the enemy that had driven them nearly to extinction.

For centuries, humanity held its ground, beating away the forces of the darkness that laid in to them with fervor. But, eventually, humanity had begun to push back. First it was Aetheon of the Vex, a hive-minded, super-ancient machine race dedicated to a singular goal. With their ability to travel nigh-unrestricted through space and time, the artificial, bio-mechanical beings were truly to be feared and, though not much was ever truly understood of Aetheon, it was obvious that it played an integral role in the Vex's conflux system. And the humans killed it.

Then it was Crota, a vile spawn of the Hive, a terrible blight of the Darkness upon the universe, a force that sought to kill and kill and kill and nothing else, not merely because they reveled in the slaughter, but because they thought it the rightful and correct way of things, the true 'shape' of the universe. Crota threatened to lead the Hive against humanity. So they killed him.

After that, humanity had a respite, of sorts. Skolas, the Kell of the House of Wolves and self-proclaimed Kell of Kells attempted to seize control of the other Fallen houses. As the Fallen are a race of nomadic scavenger/pirates, this involved a considerable amount of violence on the Kell's part. But it was all for naught. He was captured, imprisoned, attempted to escape, and then was finally killed.

But, as fate would have it, the death of Crota would not go unanswered. Oryx, the Taken King and true leader of the Hive, arrived aboard his massive Dreadnaught, a physical manifestation of his sword world where his sword logic ruled all. And, as fate would also have it, the only place in which he could truly be killed. And so he was. As the Guardians pushed him back again and again, the worm within him that gave him eternal life so long as he never faltered began to hunger, then to writhe, and, finally, as his last, desperate attempt failed, it devoured him from within even as the Light of the Guardians destroyed him from without.

After the fall of the Hive, though they were far from truly defeated, there began a time of relative peace. Some may have taken advantage of this time to enjoy themselves, but the Guardians knew better. A new change was always just beyond the horizon.

Unbeknownst to all, that change would come from the most unlikely of sources. The only ones to detect the sudden, brief, severe fluctuation in the very fabrics of time and space were the Vex, but, as they had no foothold on Earth which mainly belonged to the Hive and the Fallen, it was merely acknowledged, logged, and ignored for the time being.

And out here, amongst the desolate debris of a once-mighty human civilization, a small creature scurried from wreck to burnt-out wreck, an unknowing harbinger of the change to come.

His name was Vek, a Fallen of the lowest class, a Dreg. Only five feet tall with his secondary arms docked and unable to function as a symbol of his status, he was a truly sad sight as most Dregs were. Fodder at best, he and others like him sat at the bottom of Fallen social and military hierarchy, often only thrown at enemies to act as distractions for their leaders.

A Dreg really only had two methods to increase its standing; finding useful salvage or killing enemies. That was what brought him out here, miles away from the place known to the humans as the Cosmodrome, hunting for anything that might prove useful to his House.

Even to Fallen eyes, the endless tan, brown, and rust-red expanse of the wastelands was bland and uniform. That is why the sudden patch of brilliant orange and yellow stood out so readily.

As he approached, and the object became clearer, Vek couldn't believe his luck. A human corpse! Fresh, too, unlike the sun-bleached bones he usually found. It didn't seem to be one of the Guardians, either, seeing as it was actually dead.

He was forced to revise his opinion when he drew near, his sharp eyesight catching the rise and fall of the human's chest. It was alive.

Now that he had a clearer view, the human appeared to have been through some rather rough times. The orange and black clothing it wore was in tatters, its body bloodied and bruised, and the breathing that he'd noticed shallow and weak.

Vek readied his shock dagger to plunge through the humans heart, but paused. Could his leaders benefit more from a living human?

He knew they wanted human remains so that they could perhaps learn more about the enemies they faced, perhaps find a weakness to exploit, but would a living human be more valuable than an intact corpse?

As he contemplated, he knelt next to the body, his shock dagger still at the ready, and placed his hand on its stomach.

There was a brilliant flash of yellow light.

As he slowly regained consciousness, lying on his back on a hard, rocky surface, he immediately knew that something was wrong. His body felt strange and, at the same time, oddly familiar. As if the shape it took was not entirely foreign so much as it was not one that was often used.

He sluggishly lifted a hand to his face, as if expecting to be able to massage the answer out of his eyes and temples, only to freeze as he felt the points of contact; three of them.

Eyes snapped open to attempt to ascertain whether or not his hand was truly mangled, only to succeed in producing a massive wave of disorientation as his mind was assaulted by foreign colorations and an overabundance of viewpoints.

Again, however, he felt the odd familiarity and, this time, gave in to it.

Immediately his confusion fled and his focus sharpened as he found himself looking at what was indeed a three-fingered hand, but it was not maimed in the least. No, this was a hand that was meant to have three fingers, not the five a majority of him felt there should be.

There was really only one response warranted by this sort of situation.

'Kurama! Anyone! Oi, one of you guys, wake up and break this illusion, right now! It's freaking me out!'

As he waited on an answer, he slowly leveraged himself into a sitting position. With his long, skinny, and, he realized with a start, armor-clad arms.

When the response came, it was far more… subdued than he had been expecting.

'Stupid… brat.'

Yeah, that was Kurama's big, rumbly voice alright, but he sounded real tired. Not that he could be blamed, given the circumstances.

'Oi, Kurama! Hurry up and break this illusion, I said, there'll be time for lazing around later! She might still be around here somewhere!'

'No need… to worry about… that. She's done for… for sure. The seal… definitely took hold. And it's not… an illusion… you damned brat.'

'What, she's done? For real? Awesome, we did it!' he exclaimed back, thrilled at his success. And then the last bit of information registered. 'Wait, what the hell do you mean, 'not an illusion,' I've got three fingers and my body's all weird, what else could this be!?'

Kurama gave a raspy laugh. 'We might've… beaten her, but she… wasn't exactly happy… about it. She opened a bunch of those… dimensional gates of hers… even as she was sealed away. You fell in one, but… she hadn't set any destination. We were thrown into… some sort of… interdimensional void. It was all me and my siblings could do… just to keep you alive. When it… spat us out… you were practically dead anyways… and I was… the only one of us… with any energy left. Then this guy… whose body you're in… came along. When he touched you… I could feel that his body… was very chakra absorbant… so I took ahold of your soul… your chakra… my siblings… and a bit of the power the old man gave you… and I… transferred us over.'

His face had grown more and more twisted up on focus even as a pit of dread opened up in his stomach. 'Oi, stop speaking in riddles and spit it out! What the hell happened!?'

Kurama scoffed. 'Idiot… Look to your left.'

He did as his friend bade him and froze up in shock. There, only a few feet away, lay a withered up corpse with bleached hair that had a set of six terribly familiar, whisker-like marks on its face.

'We're in… a whole other world now. Your old body… died, so I… got you this new one. You should be grateful… you damn brat.'

Almost immediately, he was on his feet, pacing back and forth as he allowed his not-instincts to guide his movements. His breathing was coming short and fast as the situation began to become clear, and he was made aware of some sort of breathing apparatus on his face that was impeding his hyperventilation.

Feeling a stab of fury at the inanimate object, he reached up with one hand and, reinforcing his muscles, tore the mask right off, ignoring the burst of mortal terror from deep within.

A jet of cold, artificial feeling chakra burst from the severed connections and the other half of the device fell of the back of his head as he took a deep breath.

His lungs felt really weird as he did so, burning and tingling like he'd just come up for air after being underwater for a long time, but that soon faded.

Frustrations vented, he turned his attention back inwards.

'Okay. Alright. New body, new world. Got it.'

There was a brief moment of quiet contemplation before he spoke up again, his voice solemn.

'We're not going to be able to get back, are we?'

'No, probably not.'

He nearly burst out laughing. At least he could always count on his friend to stay the same, even as everything else changed.

Switching tracks in an attempt to put his situation out of mind, he addressed something that had been apparent since the beginning of their conversation.

'Hey, Fuzzy, you're sounding real tired. You gonna be alright? And what about the others?'

'They're all asleep… Used up… almost all their chakra. I'm not… much better off. We'll recover, though… but I'm gonna need a nap. I'm even worse off… than the first time you took my chakra… and I tried to blast you.'

He winced, remembering quite well how emaciated his then-enemy had become.

'Alright, you've earned that for sure. Any suggestions on what I should do before you take a snooze?'

As he asked, he panned his head around, observing the desolate wasteland surrounding him. Spotting something far off in the distance, he sharpened his vision and discovered that they were some sort of large, bulbous towers. The sight spurred another bit of familiarity within him, but he ignored it for now.

'This guy you've… taken over… he's not quite… gone just yet. Meditate. You should be… able to… access his… memories. They should… tell us… what we… need… to… know…'

He smiled as his friend's voice slowly faded, dropping down into a cross-legged position with his hands on his knees.

'Sleep well, Furball.'

With that, he closed his eyes and focused, determined to find information on his current whereabouts. This might've been the oddest, most potentially dangerous situation he'd ever found himself in, but he'd be damned if he just gave up without a fight.

After all, he was Uzumaki Naruto, and he never gave up.

And there it is. A little open-ended so far, but I have an explanation prepared as to why everything worked out so well for the chakra transfer. As for how Naruto managed to land himself on Destiny's Earth? Typical crossover bullshit, that's how.