Chapter 1: Two umbrellas.
Chapter Text
Shikamaru monotonously sorted through stacks of papers scattered across the table, frowning in concentration. After the war, the village needed to restore not only the buildings and streets but also the Hokage faces, which had been damaged during the battle. After the recent Kage summit, the other villages had agreed to donate funds for its recovery. Shikamaru looked up wearily and frowned before slowly turning to the panoramic window that overlooked the entire village. A soft knock on the door brought him back to reality. He turned to see Sarada standing in the doorway, which somewhat eased his tension.
“Lord Eight, I’m done with the paperwork. Do you need extra help? You seem exhausted.”
Asked Sarada, slightly raising her eyebrow. She was in her regular ninja outfit, but her hair was way longer, almost reaching her shoulders.
“Oh, hi, Sarada. Well, you worked hard today, so I’d ask you to go home and rest. I’ll do the paperwork myself, since Konohamaru is on a vacation. Thanks.”
Shikamaru muttered with a tired smile, rubbing his eyes. Shikamaru has been working hard lately, barely going home. His eyes burned while rubbing them, making his eyesight appear blurry. His eye sockets felt like they were dehydrated.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tall blond appeared in the doorway. Shikamaru and Sarada focused their gazes on him. There was a dead silence for a while, after which Shikamaru finally spoke.
“Boruto? Didn’t come through the gates again, did you?”
Shikamaru asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. Although, he understood why Boruto didn’t like going through the gates.
“Yeah, my bad, Lord Eight.”
Boruto answered coolly, his voice calm and slightly distant.
Now grown and mature, Boruto looked more serious and composed. His eye was now deeper, more piercing shade of blue, visible eye bags contrasting with his now tanned skin. His hair was still as short as it was before, his clothes resembling his younger self, his face more defined, with sharper cheekbones and even a faint beard.
“Boruto, are you back? Or just for a short while again?”
Sarada asked, expecting him to say, the usual,
“Yeah, leaving in two days.” But, she heard the opposite.
“Uh, no, this time I’m staying for a couple of weeks, maybe a month, since there are no other threats.”
He replied, scratching his neck.
Shikamaru smiled, eye bags covering his eyelids.
“You’ve been on non-stop missions for a year. You could use a break. By the way, how’s your prosthetic?”
Shikamaru looked at Boruto’s left leg with interest.
“It’s fine. Um… I’ve gotten used to it.”
Boruto replied with a light smile.
“Katasuke and Sumire are true masters at what they do.”
He glanced down at the prosthetic, patting it lightly. Silence.
“Well, if you don’t have anything else for me, may I go?”
Boruto asked.
“ Of course, Boruto. Have a great weekend.”
Shikamaru nodded.
“Thanks, you too. Goodbye.”
With that, Boruto vanished, teleporting out of the Hokage’s office.
***
The sun had already set beyond the horizon, and evening had draped Konoha in the dark velvet of night. With the streets buzzing more lively by the second. November brought rain and sudden cold: temperatures didn’t rise above 10 degrees Celsius, and the chill made people bundle up in warm clothes. In the softly lit city streets, the nightlife began.
Shops opened one after another, and soon, the streets filled with teenagers, children and their parents, and couples out for an evening stroll. The air was a mix of scents: fresh bread, smoked meat, fast food, tobacco, hookah, and perfumes. Laughter and conversations created a constant murmur, as lines at bars and restaurants stretched to their doors.
In this lively atmosphere, Boruto, like a ghost, slipped through the less crowded streets, trying not to draw attention to his presence. He turned onto the main street, hoping to find a grocery store and a pharmacy. At last, his efforts paid off.
He entered the grocery store, picked up essentials—milk, cereal, pasta, buckwheat, bread, and greens—and headed to the checkout. After leaving with his groceries, he walked toward the pharmacy, hoping to finish quickly and return home.
Suddenly, he noticed Sarada out of the corner of his eye; she seemed to be heading to the pharmacy as well. She looked cute and cozy in her dark jacket, with her face and hair wrapped in a red scarf. Her small nose and cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, rainy and windy weather.
“Oh, Boruto!”
Sarada smiled, waving.
“Hey. Going to the pharmacy?”
“Yep. You?”
She replied, blowing on her hands to warm them.
“Yeah, I need to pick up a few things. Want me to walk you home?”
He offered, holding the pharmacy door open.
“Ladies first.”
He said, grinning. Sarada’s gaze softened. Everytime Boruto grinned at her (which was rare) she felt like the old Boruto was still there, in him, somewhere.
They walked in.
“Hey, listen, would you mind coming over to my place today? We can eat something and watch a movie…you know, like the old times.”
She suggested, slowly unwinding her scarf.
“Maybe tomorrow? I’m a little tired.”
Boruto replied, rubbing his eyes.
“Alright grandpa.”
She teased.
“Hey…”
Boruto replied annoyingly.
“Next…”
Said the cashier with a hoarse voice.
“Thank you for your purchase!”
The cashier mumbled, freezing in surprise when she noticed the blond.
Boruto spoke, sensing the attention on him.
***
“It really bugs me how people look at you like that!”
Sarada said angrily, carefully stepping around puddles that had formed on the pavement.
“I don’t care, Sarada, I’ve told you.”
“It’s unfair!”
She exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration.
“I know…”
The blonde said, stopping and turning his gaze to her. The sound of rain grew louder.
“I know, but there’s nothing I can do. So, I’m getting used to it. Somehow. ”
Sarada stopped too, her eyes searching for an answer that could change the situation. Her gaze, full of seriousness, suddenly focused on him.
“You…you’re taking so many missions on purpose so you don’t have to be in Konoha, right?”
She asked, trying to understand his motive, with concern in her voice.
A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the melodic rhythm of raindrops hitting the ground and their umbrellas. Boruto thought, as if contemplating how to explain his actions. He knew he was avoiding life in the village, but this was his way of coping with the situation. Inside him, conflicting feelings churned, and he knew Sarada was right.
“I dunno… village life just gets on my nerves sometimes. Feels suffocating, y’know?”
He muttered, shifting his gaze nervously. It was an awkward moment, and the air around them grew heavier with uncertainty.
“Boruto…you’re not alone.”
She muttered softly, her voice warm and reassuring.
“I’m still here, with you. So is your mom, and Himawari. Hinata-san misses you.”
Sarada stepped closer, her warm gaze filling the space between them with light. She gently took his hand, as if trying to pass warmth and support to him. Boruto looked into her dark eyes, and his heart raced. He furrowed his brows, feeling something inside him begin to change. Gazing at the crosswalk, he exhaled, the sound seemingly drawing all his worries out.
“Thanks, Sarada. Really.”
He mumbled, with a hint of sincerity in his voice.
“No problem, dumbo.”
She giggled, her laugh light. It unexpectedly melted the awkwardness, and Boruto couldn’t help but smile.
They continued walking down the street, feeling the cool evening breeze on their faces. At that moment, it seemed like life was blossoming around them. The city, which had once felt foreign, was now full of vibrant colours—from the bright shop lights to the warm conversations of people—and he suddenly realized that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
Sarada watched him, trying to catch every emotion on his face.
“So… what was the mission? I think I read the report, but for some reason, I can’t recall all the details.”
She asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.
Boruto paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
“ I…was looking for unknown chakra sources near the Village of the Rain. At first, um…it didn’t seem serious, but then it turned out that there were Code’s minions there. There were about a hundred of them, though they weren’t all in one place.”
He replied quietly, his face slightly frowning.
“Quite a hassle, huh?”
She asked, stopping and smiling slightly. Her gaze lingered on him a little longer than usual.
“We made it.”
She said softly, letting go of his hand and glancing back at their path.
“Thank you for walking me home.”
Boruto felt a faint smile flicker across his face.
“I missed you. Please don’t disappear like that again.”
She murmured almost in a whisper.
“I’ll try. I am trying.”
He replied softly. It was hard to say anything else, but those words felt more sincere than ever before.
“Will you come over tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Boruto nodded quickly.
Sarada waved goodbye, a faint blush on her cheeks, and turned to run toward the stairs, her light footsteps echoing in the air.
“See you…”
Boruto replied awkwardly, watching her leave. The blush on his cheeks slowly faded, but something fluttered in his chest from the farewell. He smiled to himself once more and, turning around, leisurely made his way home, hearing the rain now sounding completely different.
Chapter 2: Sleepless nights
Notes:
Hello everyone! This is going to be a sad chapter, but I hope you all will enjoy it!
No place inspirations this chapter
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Boruto stepped into his small apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He slipped off his shoes, shaking loose the dust of the day, and exhaled slowly. The silence inside wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. He moved toward the kitchen, where the harsh overhead light illuminated shelves neatly lined with groceries.
Setting the bags on the table, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease, if only a little. Routine. Predictable. Safe.
In the bathroom, the warmth of the shower was a brief comfort. Hot water streamed over him, washing away the grime of the day, the exhaustion settled in his bones. He let his thoughts wander, drifting far beyond these four walls.
But when he stepped out and caught sight of himself in the mirror, reality snapped back.
He didn’t want to look. But he always did.
There he was.
Older.
Tired.
Worn thin by sleepless nights.
Dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises from invisible fists. His scar traced a line across his face—a mark he could tolerate, even respect. A reminder. Of her. Of that day. But the others… the ones spidering across his chest, arms, neck—they made something inside him recoil.
And the Karma mark. Always there, black and ugly. His jaw clenched.
He wouldn’t say it aloud. He wouldn’t give it power. But quietly, privately, he hated this reflection. Hated the stranger staring back.
He swallowed a melatonin tablet and sank beneath the blanket. His body slackened, sleep tugging at the edges of his mind. For a moment, there was peace.
But then it came.
Nightmares.
***
He staggered through darkness, his body convulsing as though seized by invisible hands. Cold sweat slid down his neck. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, scraping his throat raw. Fear gripped him like iron chains, his steps shaky.
He collapsed, trembling, unable to breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs like it wanted out. His vision blurred, and through the haze, blood. Bodies. Torn apart. Slaughtered. His hands shaking, drenched in red he couldn’t remember shedding.
Momoshiki’s laughter coiled around his mind, seeping like smoke through every crack. Fingers of thought clawed at his scalp, pulling, tearing.
The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating. His breath hitched. His lungs burned.
And then—silence.
***
Boruto jolted upright, breath ragged, heart slamming against his ribs. His hand fumbled for the nightlight switch. A soft glow pushed back the shadows. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky, and rain battered the window in steady rhythm.
He sat still. Staring. Pale. Pupils wide.
Slowly, mechanically, he stood and made his way to the bathroom. Water hissed from the tap, cool and indifferent. He leaned on the sink, head bowed, breath heavy. His fingers threaded through damp hair, pulling, grounding himself. A slap. Another. Skin stinging faintly. Reality trying to reassert itself.
He splashed water on his face, watching it bead and drip. Trying to rinse away the echo of that voice, that laugh still gnawing at the edges of his mind.
Back in his room, he sat on the bed. Blank-faced. Silent. Momoshiki’s laughter lingered, like smoke clinging to his ribs. He shuddered, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.
Sleep didn’t come.
Hour after hour, he lay listening to the rain, each drop slow and steady.
When gray light finally breached the window, he realized the night had ended.
Notes:
Honestly I don’t like how the first 4 chapters turned out since I wrote them back in 2024, so, wait for the new ones😂
Chapter 3: Reunion
Chapter Text
The sun’s rays brightly reflected off the damp surfaces after the recent rain, and the entire town seemed wrapped in a light, almost transparent haze. The air was filled with freshness and the scent of wet earth, while the surrounding silence was occasionally interrupted by the soft dripping of water from roofs and leaves. Boruto stopped in front of the familiar house, his gaze flickering slightly from the bright light.
A gentle knock on the door was almost audible. Moments later, he heard light footsteps approaching. The door slowly creaked open, revealing Himawari. Her blue eyes lit up with joy upon seeing him. At first, she seemed a bit flustered, but then she broke into a wide smile and swung the door open.
“ Hey, Boruto!”
Her voice was filled with childlike spontaneity and warmth.
“Did Sarada invite you?”
Himawari shyly hugged him, wrapping her arms around him.
“ Ah, yeah…”
He nodded, briefly closing his eyes. The accumulated fatigue was noticeable, and the sunlight dazzled his eyes, as if intentionally testing his patience.
“Did she invite you too?”
“Yup. She invited me, along with others. Come on, step inside.”
Himawari took him by the hand, pulling him into the house with such ease and enthusiasm that for a moment, Boruto felt like a child again.
As soon as they entered, Boruto felt that the house was already filled with life. The sounds of dishes clattering echoed from the kitchen, and the smell of freshly baked flatbreads mixed with the aroma of herbal tea.
Chocho was typically arguing with Inojin over their polar opposite views on food, while he, as usual, called her names.
Mitsuki sat by the window, listening attentively to their conversation with a slight smile, while Shikadai, sitting on the couch, seemed to be lost in thoughts. Seeing Boruto, he nodded slightly.
“Hey.”
Boruto sank onto the couch beside him.
“Hey. Haven’t seen you around for a while. Mission?”
Shikadai asked, his voice lacking enthusiasm as he lazily leaned back against the couch.
“Claw grime stuff. You?”
Boruto attempted to keep the conversation going, genuinely curious about what was happening in Shikadai’s life.
“ Nothing new…”
Shikadai replied with a shrug.
“I became a sensei. Got three little brats tearing my hair out. Reminds me of us back then.”
A hint of enthusiasm appeared in Shikadai’s voice, and the corners of his lips slightly curled up at the mention of those kids.
“I see..I’m happy for you.”
At that moment, he heard approaching footsteps. Sarada entered the kitchen.
“Oh, Boruto! You’re early.”
Sarada said carelessly, sitting down next to Boruto, her eyes shining with joy.
“ Okay, everyone, Sarada and I want to present something to you…”
Himawari quickly said, a sly smile spreading across her face.
An expectant silence hung in the air, and everyone turned their gaze to Sarada, waiting for her response.
Sarada began, choosing her words carefully.
“We thought… we all need a break. And not just sitting around watching TV until our brains rot. Himawari suggested hot springs, but we figured something better. We are thinking about buying tickets to the Mist Village. Like back in the academy days.”
She smiled, waiting for their responses.
“That’s… amazing!”
Chocho exclaimed, jumping up from her seat, her eyes shining with excitement.
“It’s gonna be a drag, but… yeah. We could all use it. Especially after these six years.”
Shikadai yawned, but there was warmth behind his laziness.
“I’m in.”
“Same.”
Mitsuki said with a soft smile.
“Guess I’m in too.”
Inojin shrugged.
Boruto glanced at Sarada, then the others. He hesitated at first, but then, taking a deep breath, he mumbled:
“ If you’re all going, I’m in.”
Sarada exhaled a small amount of air that she hadn’t even noticed she was holding.
“Good. So we’re settled?”
Sarada’s tone lightened as she met each of their nods in turn.
“Oh, and Kawaki and Sumire are coming too.”
Himawari added, her grin widening.
“And by the way… I’m handling all the planning.”
***
Chocho, without lifting her gaze from her nails, responded brightly to the call, exclaiming with excitement:
“A whole week at the beach. Finally something to live for.”
Sarada smiled, hearing her friend’s joy, and calmly confirmed:
“Himawari’s already booked the hotel. Found a great beach. She’s even got a list of places we can visit.”
“This is going to be amazing, Sarada!”
Sumire chimed in over the phone, fingers tapping away on her keyboard:
“I really need a break.”
Dramatically exclaimed Chocho.
Sarada nodded, crossing her arms, and summed it up.
“We all need a break. Sumire, will you tell Kawaki about our plans? I’ll let Boruto know about the details too.”
Chocho squinted, her tone skeptical as she asked.
“Don’t judge me for asking but… Boruto’s really coming?”
Sarada fell silent for a moment, her gaze wandering around the room. Calmly but firmly, she replied:
“Yes, Chocho. He’s coming. I know it’s weird for you, but the past is the past. It’s fine now, remember?”
Chocho sighed, softening a bit.
“Alright, you’re right… my bad. Thanks.”
“Great, don’t forget to let Kawaki know!”
Sumire said goodbye and hung up. She exhaled, setting her phone on the table, and, stretching, went back to her work on the computer. A minute later, her focused typing was interrupted by a cold voice behind her.
“ What was that about?”
She turned and met Kawaki’s gaze as he approached her workstation. A bit flustered but welcoming, Sumire explained:
“Oh, Kawaki-kun… I was just about to tell you about our plans.”
“No.”
He answered shortly, sitting on the couch with narrowed eyes.
“What do you mean “no?””
Sumire asked, surprised.
“It means I’m not going.”
He replied, leaning back on the couch, legs crossed, expression unreadable.
Sumire looked at him with concern, trying to convince him.
“Kawaki-kun… No one’s holding anything against you, not even Sarada. Everything’s fine. You know we all need a break, and so do you. You deserve it.”
He frowned, lowering his gaze.
“Still feels weird.”
Sensing his hesitation, Sumire smiled.
“That’s exactly why you need to come.”
He stood up, walked to the water cooler, and paused, staring at the cup for a moment before filling it with water. After taking a sip, he finally replied, though without enthusiasm:
“ Alright… Where exactly are we going?”
“To the Kirigakure Village. A full week!”
Sumire replied playfully.
Kawaki choked, spitting water all over the floor.
“Kawaki!”
She laughed, not expecting his reaction. He cleared his throat and stood there, stunned.
“You serious?”
“Yes…?”
Sumire nodded slightly, noting his surprise. He sighed but, with a carefree glance, replied.
“Tch. Fine, whatever.”
She smiled genuinely, feeling relieved:
“Thank you, Kawaki.”
He didn’t sound angry. Just tired.
Notes:
A trip? To another country? For a full week! Sounds great, don’t you think so?
Chapter 4: Familiar walls
Summary:
Boruto wasn’t sure how to act with his parents. Not anymore. But they didn’t push. They were patiently waiting for him to open up.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The asphalt beneath his sneakers let out an unpleasant, squeaky sound with every step. Boruto inhaled deeply and stopped. His old home looked… foreign.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love or recognize it. It just felt like he no longer belonged here. He glanced at the apricot tree by the main window—the one where he used to run around holding Himawari’s hand. He kept walking, slowly making his way to the front door. The air around him seemed to thicken with every step, even though just moments ago it had been fresh and smelled of rain.
As he stepped onto the old wooden porch, the floorboards let out a creak.
He froze. Should he ring the bell? Knock? Just open the door?
Reluctantly, he raised his right hand. His fingers twitched, nearly brushing the wooden surface. But he froze again, taking a slow breath, closing his eyes.
Just knock. This is your home.
Summoning the courage, he finally tapped twice, maybe three times. His lip caught between his teeth. He hated to admit it, but the moment he saw those familiar walls for the first time… he nearly cried. He didn’t even know what it was. Sadness, joy, nostalgia? Every time he came here, he had to brace himself. To get used to the fact that someone was still waiting for him. And always would be.
A few seconds later, the door creaked open. And there she was, the top of his mom’s head, her lavender hair unmistakable. She looked up, eyes widening just slightly.
“Boruto? You’re back?”
Hinata still didn’t like leaving him alone. She still didn’t like him going on missions.
She stepped forward, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around him gently, fingers brushing the back of his neck. Her forehead rested against his chest. She heard his heartbeat. Fast. Like a storm.
“Can I come in?”
His voice wavered.
“Of course you can. Come on.”
***
Boruto sat on the same couch he’d spent most of his childhood on. Hinata was in the kitchen, preparing tea. His eyes scanned the old pictures on the wall. There he was, small, with his dad. Naruto smiling for the camera. Boruto looking annoyed. As usual. Another picture—everyone together.
Well, everyone except Kawaki, back then. He looked at the picture. Boruto was frowning again. He scoffed quietly. Why was he always frowning those days? Himawari was in their father’s arms.
Another picture. At the hot springs. The last trip they’d taken together before everything began to fall apart. He furrowed his brows. Not out of bitterness, but nostalgia. Something twisted in his chest. It felt warm. But it hurt too. A strange kind of ache.
“Black tea or green?”
Hinata’s voice came softly from the kitchen.
“Green. No sugar.”
“No sugar?”
She turned slightly, surprised.
“You used to like three spoonfuls.”
She smiled, looking down, but deep down, something unsettled her. She hadn’t seen her son in so long, she didn’t even know the smallest things about him anymore.
“Nope. Didn’t really have sugar back then. Got used to plain tea. It’s healthier anyway, tastes better too.”
He said with a tired little smile.
“I see.”
She dropped the teabag into a cute little mug. Silence fell. That kind of silence you don’t know how to break. Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the house. Someone was coming down the stairs. Boruto knew to whom these footsteps belonged to. His heartbeat sped up. It had been two years since Kawaki brought their parents back… Yet he still felt on edge every time.
“Boruto! How’s my son doing?”
Naruto grinned as he reached Hinata, kissing her cheek softly.
My son.
My. Son.
He always knew how to get Boruto emotional. Boruto’s hands trembled slightly. He hated this feeling. These were his parents. His own parents. And still, every time, he felt like he was a stranger. Why did he even feel nervous? Why?
“I’m fine. How’s…”
He hesitated.But he had to ask.
“How’s my dad doing?”
Naruto’s eyes widened just a bit. A slight smile played on his lips. Calm. Steady. Soft.
“I’m good. How’d the mission go?”
He asked, sinking into the sofa beside him.
“Fine. A bit annoying at times.”
Boruto chuckled, glancing at the TV Naruto had just turned on. Hinata returned with their tea, carefully sitting beside Boruto. Her hand landed gently on his forearm. Boruto took a sip of the warm tea. Bitter. But he liked it that way. His eyes stayed on the TV screen, not really watching, just letting the noise distract him. Naruto glanced his way now and then.
He didn’t push. He knew his son would open up when he was ready. Hinata’s fingers gave Boruto’s arm the slightest squeeze.
A reminder: You’re home.
Boruto turned toward her. Finally, he exhaled, a soft breath, a small laugh escaping.
“I don’t know why I act so tense…Like I’m a stranger or something. I’m sorry”
Naruto raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on Boruto’s shoulder.
“You’re not. And you never will be.”
Boruto slowly nodded, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. His eyes wandered around the room once more. The walls. The TV. The bookshelf. The sofa. The pictures. The scent of warm green tea. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore. Boruto leaned into his father slightly, resting his head on Naruto’s shoulder. Finally he allowed himself to relax.
***
Pop music blared through the mall, its upbeat rhythm slowly grinding on the nerves, while the chatter of people blurred into a dull, monotonous hum. Sarada, Sumire, and Chocho strolled through the crowd, occasionally glancing at the store windows as they passed.
“Okay, are you two dating or what?”
Sumire nearly choked on her coffee.
“Wh-what?! Me? Him? I mean… we’re close but… I… um…”
Sarada’s words tangled into a mess, her blush deepening even as she tried to hide it behind her scarf.
“Aww, look at her. Where’s my scary, stoic Sarada now?”
Chocho teased.
Sarada sighed inwardly. Again with Chocho’s soap opera plots.
But she didn’t deny it. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. Boruto meant something to her. He always had.
Sumire walked silently beside them, casting occasional glances at Sarada’s conflicted face. She didn’t feel pain anymore, not really. Not jealousy. Not regret. Because she had let go, for Sarada’s sake. For her own. And because she knew: Boruto’s heart had never belonged to her.
“Oh! There’s the shop I was talking about! They’ve got the best swimsuits!”
Chocho’s excitement snapped them from their thoughts.
“I’m afraid to imagine what you mean by ‘best’”
Sarada muttered, half-smiling.
***
Inside, Chocho dramatically held up a neon orange bikini with drawn red hibiscuses.
“What? We’ve got good curves! Or, well… I do. Anyway! I’m gonna look amazing”
When she spotted what Sarada and Sumire carried, her expression fell flat.
“Please tell me you’re joking. One-pieces? Seriously? We’re eighteen, not grandmas.”
“They’re comfortable”
Sumire said, half-apologetic.
“Comfortable?”
Chocho groaned.
“Ladies, think bold! Cool! Hot! Stunning! You know… revealing!”
She held up a red bikini like a prize.
“This. We’re getting this.”
“Gosh, Chocho… what would I do without you…”
Sarada sighed, covering her face with one hand.
Notes:
I had so much fun writing this chapter I NEED TO SEE MY BOY BORUTO WITH HIS FAMILY AGAIN PLEASE IKEMOTO😭☹️
Chapter 5: Ocean Breeze and pills
Summary:
Sleepy Boruto and nauseous Kawaki. Such a great way to start the trip.
Notes:
Tried making Kawaki seem less serious like his pre timeskip self, along with giving Mitsuki more “out of this world” energy. This is a sloooow paced chapter, my bad
Place inspiration: I haven’t been to cruise liners but I’ve been to yachts or just boats in general, and let me tell you, I AM LITERALLY LIKE KAWAKI. Oh my gosh, my sea sickness is insane. So while writing Kawaki’s part I literally remembered my trip to Egypt in 2023, I felt so bad😭
Chapter Text
“This cruise liner is so beautiful, oh my gosh!”
Squeaked Chocho, hopping from one foot to another in excitement.
“This is my first time on a liner. Hey, Chocho, come on lemme take a picture!”
Himawari exclaimed, her eyes wide from eagerness.
“Although, give me your phone, your camera is better, no?”
“My phone’s dead.”
Chocho answered with a dramatic sigh.
“…Seriously?”
“My battery capacity just sucks, idiot. Shut up.”
Boruto looked at them, rubbing his eyes. He woke up recently, and realised that he spent pretty much two hours with his head on Sarada’s shoulder. She hadn’t even moved an inch. What a hero she is.
“Seriously though, why do these tourists even take pictures of the ocean? It has the same colour as the sky, literally. That’s stupid. It’s like… taking a picture of a blue…nothing.”
Kawaki muttered under his breath, which made Sumire chuckle.
“I mean…like…for fun? Although you’re always grumpy, no wonder you don’t understand them.”
Sumire replied teasingly.
“I find it’s quite interesting how humans take pictures of something, but then never look at it again. It’s an incredible phenomenon, don’t you think so?”
Mitsuki added from behind, scaring both Sumire and Kawaki.
“I…um…guess?”
Replied Kawaki.
“Anyway, I hate the ocean. And water.”
He sighed.
“And ships, too. I hate it here. I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”
Kawaki blunted out with a grumpy tone, clearly showing his hatred towards the ocean. Sumire chuckled, Mitsuki smiled softly.
***
“Room 402… you see anything?”
Sarada asked, squinting down the hall.
“I think… we’re supposed to go left next, no?”
Boruto’s voice came out rough, low. His eyes were still red from rubbing them too much.
“ Yeah, and… your room’s 405? Guess we’re basically neighbors.”
She tried to sound casual, but it came out awkward.
The air between them felt heavy. Boruto didn’t really seem like he was listening, or maybe he was, just… somewhere else entirely.
A couple minutes passed. They kept walking.
“ Boruto, you’re getting me and you lost in these damn infinity corridors.”
Sarada finally broke the silence, half-teasing.
“ Look, we’re at room 399. Wrong way.”
“Oh, oh. My bad. Should’ve turned right.”
He turned without much energy. Blank stare, slow steps.
“Boruto…”
Sarada hesitated, biting her cheek before speaking again.
“Do you… even get any sleep? I mean… I literally saw you falling asleep and then you just…”
“Just didn’t sleep well. Don’t worry.”
Silence again. Only the stupid hotel lights humming above them.
Quiet and monotonous footsteps kept sounding in the hallway, Boruto’s footsteps slower than usual, echoing dull against the floor.
Sarada’s whole body twitched with irritation. Dry, typical Sasuke student behaviour. Oh Gosh.
“Well, for me, grandpa, you don’t seem to be doing fine.”
She continued, her voice demanding.
“I said I am fine. Just.”
He stopped for a moment, glancing sideways awkwardly.
“Just. Um…a lot lately.”
He huffed, cracking his finger, not even being aware of doing it.
Sarada stayed silent.
Another minute of walking, and a turn to the left... And…hallways, again. Felt like backrooms, with this weird buzzing sound accompanying them.
“Hey, Boruto.”
He threw a glance at her.
“Thanks for coming, you know. Even though I’m sure you didn’t want to. I'm glad you trust us.”
He smiled tiredly, frowning his eyebrows. Sarada stopped.
“Oh, look, room 402, there, and 405 there at the corner!”
She pointed at her wooden door. Boruto nodded, staring at his own door.
“Well, get ready and call me once you finish settling up, okay?”
“Yeah. See ya.”
He replied, opening the apartment’s door.
She stood there for a second after he went inside. Watching the door. Wondering how much more he wasn’t saying.
Sigh.
She turned toward her own room, closing the door.
***
“Fuck these waves. I’m gonna—“
Kawaki croaked, his voice hoarse as he gagged.
“My gosh, Kawaki, hold on— Uh, Shikadai?”
Sumire called their lazy friend, a bit panicked.
“Wha—oh, wow.”
Shikadai finally stopped walking, glancing at Kawaki as he leaned heavily on the railing of the small cruise balcony.
“Can you hold him for a sec? I’ve got some anti-nausea meds, though I’m not sure they’ll even help—“
“I swear—“
Kawaki gagged again, slapping his hand over his mouth.
“Stay right here!”
Sumire babbled, running off.
“ I’m a fucking cyborg, so why the hell am I—“
“Kawaki, don’t talk, you’re gonna puke on the floor.”
Shikadai cut him off, half irritated, half worried.
“This is—“
He gagged again, gripping the railing tighter, his knuckles going white.
“Pathetic.”
His jaw clenching, he fought the rising nausea.
“That’s not pathetic, it happens to everyone.”
Shikadai protested, sitting closer to him.
Kawaki stayed silent, gagging sometimes, his body tensed.
“Here! Here—Oh Gosh—“
Sumire blunted out breathlessly.
“Here. Take this. The taste is bad but…just take them.”
Sumire demanded, handing him the black pill.
“I don’t need this shi—“
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Kawaki.”
Shikadai snapped, elbowing Kawaki slightly.
Kawaki threw the pill into his mouth.
“…Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just sit here for a while and try breathing slowly. Take deep breaths.”
Sumire continued, her face relaxing.
“I hate the ocean.”
“It’s just water with waves, Kawaki.”
Shikadai muttered, getting up.
“Doesn’t change anything, imbecile.”
“Pffft.”
Chapter 6: Under neon lights.
Summary:
A cruise liner bar full of neon lights. Sarada—half drunk, clinging to Boruto like a koala, Himawari—suspiciously getting giggly, Chocho —singing like her life depends on it, and Boruto—trying to socialise while being hunted by the shadows from his past.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
11pm, cruise liner bar.
The neon signs flickered with a faint buzz, casting a soft green light over the liner’s surface. The music inside could be heard even from outside of the bar, since it pulsed through the walls, a low thump of bass and muffled voices filling up the space. Inside, the bar was halfway full, with people either singing karaoke with their hoarse voices, or dancing while having shots with their friends.
At the corner booth, everyone had already gathered. Shikadai sat at the center, drinking beer, his gaze unfocused,while Inojin grabbed another bottle of beer. Next to him sat Chocho—with her heels kicked off her feet, curled up on the seat, grabbing lemon from the side of the table. Mitsuki—next to her, while Chocho tried convincing him that lemon with Coca Cola and whiskey is a good combination. Sarada sat beside Himawari— drinking some type of blue-ish looking cocktail, a little flushed.
Since Himawari was still technically a kid, she just drank some apple juice, sometimes “innocently” trying to slip a small amount of whiskey in her drink.
Sumire sat beside Kawaki, her face completely flushed, already halfway through her second drink. And then—Kawaki, having his beer, and Boruto—with an iced black coffee in his hands, staring at the table.
“Boruto...” Sarada called out, turning her head towards him.
“Try some, plea—“She huffed, then leaned towards him.
“You’re drunk. And no, I’m not drinking anything.” He said shyly, his gaze softening as he saw how innocent Sarada looked.
“You’re so annoying…like…try..something?”She continued, her gaze disoriented.
“I can’t, Sarada…” He paused. It’s not like he didn’t want to drink. He wanted to. To let his mind wander somewhere. Somewhere peaceful. But he was scared—too scared to drink. Too scared to not be able to control himself. To let himself go. To not remember his actions.
He sighed. Glanced at Sarada.
Oh well.
Sarada was drunk. So no matter how many times he explained this to her, she would not understand. But, he needed to try. Maybe.
“You remember that bastard named Momoshiki? He’s the reason I don’t want to drink.” Sarada looked at him with her eyebrow slightly raised, her fingers tapping against the table.
“Ooo—“
Hiccup.
“Hhhh.”
Boruto mentally slapped himself.
“This is going to be a long night.”
He sighed, sipping his coffee.
***
Laughter rose. Jokes. Teasing. Funny stories. It was almost like the old times, except, it wasn’t. Not for him, at least.
Boruto found himself smiling slightly here and then, mostly at Shikadai’s jokes or Himawari’s giggling, and, maybe, half-drunk Mitsuki trying to crack jokes (he failed). But almost every time, his gaze turned towards the door.
“You good?” Growled half drunk Shikadai, his voice syrupy.
“Yeah. Just. Um…crowds, man.” Boruto finally spoke.
“There are literally like…” Shikadai cut himself off, his finger counting people sitting at the table, gaze unfocused.
“Eight people. Nine including you.”
“And people there, at the dance floor. Boruto threw a small glance at the people dancing far away.
“They don’t even pay attention to you though.”
“Still. Crowds.”
Shikadai breathed in.
“For fucks sake Boruto, this ain’t a crowd. Relax.”
“Feels like one though.” Boruto sighed, biting his lower lip.
“So as I was saying, I have a theory that—“Started Inojin proudly, but then was immediately derailed when Chocho shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
“Noooo, I wanted to listen to this asshole babble about a secret meaning behind some stupid black square drawing or something…take that bread out!” Shikadai cried out, laughing halfway.
“And I decline! Shut up or I’ll crush you with my weigh’.” Chocho threatened, leaning towards. Inojin slightly, with her fist playfully and slowly moving towards his head.
“Admitting that you’re a fat ass?” Squeaked Inojin, his mouth full of bread.
“You little!”
Boruto stood.
“Just gonna get some fresh air. I’ll be back.”He said, turning around.
No one really questioned it. Some were too drunk to notice anyway. Sarada’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, her face tensed, but she let it go.
***
The night air was cool, filled with the faint smell of the ocean. The muffled music blasted behind him, neon lights falling on the ground like shadows. Boruto leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath. Tilting his head to the sky, his gaze focused on the stars. The stars were faint, some of them flickering slowly. He bit his lower lip, closing his eyes.
Four years of hiding. Hide. Eat. Sleep. Work. Train. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
He opened his eyes. Glanced at the sky. Ran his fingers through his hair. Closed his eyes.
He is with his friends. Everything is good. Fine. Amazing, actually. But still. Two years ago he was a fugitive, hiding, barely surviving. And now? A simple…well, not technically a human being…a simple…something living his life peacefully. All these people he sat beside, except Sarada, Sumire and Himawari, wished him death at some point. It was disorienting. It simply didn’t make sense, at all.
He opened his eyes.
His ears rang, filling his mind with an annoying buzz. Boruto tilted his head slightly downward. Looked at his right palm.
His hand. The karma mark.
His head hurt, temples burning. He played with his fingers. It felt like they were wrapped in cotton wool.
It didn't feel like his hand. He gripped the railing again. His fingers felt a weird tingling sensation. And only when he felt like the whole world started spinning with an immerse speed, he heard someone’s footsteps behind him.
“You good?”A raspy voice asked from behind. Boruto turned slightly.
“Just needed a break. You?” Kawaki lit a cigarette.
“Want one?” Boruto declined.
“They missed you. And they, pretty much, accept you.”
“Doesn’t mean that I know how to act around them though.”Kawaki nodded.
“Fair.” Kawaki breathed out, a small smoke escaping his mouth.
“Go inside. She’s watching you like a puppy.”
“What?”Boruto blinked.
“More like “who”. It’s Sarada.”
“Oh, shut up.” Boruto looked away, blushing slightly.
An hour later.
It had become a total chaos.
Shikadai was asleep on the sofa, a black straw stuck in his mouth. Inojin was trying to win a drink competition with a complete stranger. Chocho was dancing with a total stranger—her shoes off, a microphone in her hand. Sumire was…curled up in the seat, her head resting on Kawaki’s lap, while Kawaki cut a slice of bread, shoving it into his mouth, babbling about the current political situation in the country with Mitsuki. Himawari…she got drunk. Oh, obviously she did. She giggled to herself while talking to sleeping Shikadai about the idea of him looking like a flower. And Sarada…—oh Sarada— she was hanging off Boruto’s arm, completely ignoring the existence of gravity.
“Okay, but, can you stop clinging to me like a koala?”Boruto’s ears were burning.
“Hey, I’m not a koala?”
“Well now it seems quite the opposite. I can’t feel my arm. It’s numb.”
“Your arm is what?” She said, her voice higher, since Chocho finally understood that the microphone she had was turned off, and, by turning it on, she left everyone speechless with her “amazing” vocal skills.
“ N.U.M.B.”
“Oooohhhh, like you can’t feel it? You can’t feel your leg either.” A quiet laughter, accompanied with her slapping slightly his prosthetic leg.
“It’s like you’re invincible since you don’t feel the pain.”
A hiccup.
What the fuck is she actually talking about. This is absurd.
Boruto sighed, gently removing her hand from his lap.
A second later, she did the same thing again. Boruto sighed. But let it slide.
Notes:
So uh I haven’t really been to bars since I’m a minor but there’s this thing I still remember, when me and my classmates went to a bar like restaurant in order to celebrate our 9th school year together, and that’s pretty much it
Chapter 7: A night to remember
Summary:
Drunk Sarada doing whatever she wants and absolutely not regretting it (for now).
Notes:
Uhhhh hello hi. I might stop updating the fanfic every 2-3 days or so, since it’s still in works and every time I post a new chapter I get reminded that I need to hurry up and finish the whole thing. But, oh well, enjoy. 😊
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
2 a.m., at the bar.
The party had already thinned. The reggaeton that had rattled the walls all night no longer echoed in the small, smoky space. Two exhausted workers shuffled between tables, clinking dirty glasses together in a steady rhythm. Inojin was face-down, ass-up on the table, dead to the world, while Himawari—somehow with a marker in her hand—was drawing whiskers on his cheeks, calling him her “long-lost brother” and giggling hysterically. Shikadai had passed out on Kawaki’s shoulder. Sumire, on his lap. Chocho was wrestling with her heels, missing the straps half the time. Sarada had her head resting on Boruto’s shoulder, gaze unfocused, drifting between the abstract mirror behind Kawaki and the half-empty glass of liquor at her side.
Boruto gently peeled her off his arm.
“C’mon. It’s late. We’re leaving tomorrow, remember?”
“I’m fine,” she whined, dragging every syllable, eyes shut, already halfway to sleep.
“I wanna sleep here,” she muttered, her voice muffled in his shirt.
“The bar’s closing, Sarada. Everyone’s leaving. C’mon.”
She hummed in annoyance and bumped her head lightly against his chest. Boruto arched his brow. “Was that a no?”
She hummed again—this time with a tiny nod. Seriously. Just as Sarada was about to reach the table to grab something, which Boruto had assumed was another glass of liquor, he reached her arm, wrapping his calloused hands around her wrists.
“Come on,” he muttered, hissing when the drink nearly splashed.
“No. Carry me.” Boruto scoffed. She just stared back—drunk, dramatic, and dead-set. He sighed, crouching down. The chair creaked loudly, making Inojin crack an eye open.
“What… wait, wait—real—”
“Get on,” Boruto mumbled, his face burning hotter than he could explain, that strange warmth pooling in his stomach.
“You’re the best.” Sarada half-flopped onto his back, squealing, arms draping lazily around his neck.
“You’re warm,” she murmured, hot breath brushing his skin. Boruto smiled faintly, tucking his arms under her thighs, adjusting her weight easily as her legs swung like a ragdoll’s.
“And sweaty,” she added innocently, her breath now tickling his cheek, bringing with it the faint scent of liquor and that vanilla perfume she always wore. Boruto chuckled, embarrassed at the feel of her bare arms resting against his sweat-soaked shirt.
Shit. Kill me.
“…Just don’t fall asleep on me.”
“Can’t promise,” she whispered, cheek brushing his golden hair. Peeking one eye open and seeing no reaction, she smirked. “Drama queen.” Boruto stopped mid-step.
“…What?”
“Nothin’.” Satisfied with herself, she grinned as he pushed open the door.
***
Outside, Mitsuki and Kawaki were carrying Himawari and Sumire. Chocho stumbled every few steps. Shikadai yawned every two seconds, with Inojin shambling beside him. Kawaki lit a cigarette without breaking stride, slipping the lighter into his pocket.
“Hey, lemme have a puff,” Sarada blurted, trying to tap Kawaki’s shoulder. Boruto choked on his own spit, turning sharply toward her—though, he couldn’t see her expression clearly, because, well, he was blind in his right eye.
“No,” Kawaki replied flatly, like this was a normal question from Uchiha Sarada.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my cigarette. And if your parents found out, they’d kill me. Him too.” Kawaki tilted his head toward Boruto, whose scowl made his point clear.
“I’m an adult!” Sarada whined, lightly thumping Boruto’s chest with her fist.
“Not when you’re whining like Himawari after getting grounded,” Boruto shot back, smirking. Himawari gasped dramatically in unison with Sarada.
“Ow. Low blow, Boruto,” Sarada hissed, poking the back of his neck.
“Agreed,” Himawari chimed, voice syrupy sweet. Boruto laughed quietly, tightening his grip on Sarada’s thighs to keep her steady.
***
“You’re gonna feel like crap tomorrow, you know that?” Boruto muttered as they made their way down the half-lit hallway.
“Mmm… worth it,” she yawned, head leaning against his shoulder.
“If my twelve-year-old self saw this, he’d hang himself on the spot.”
Sarada snorted.
“Pfft. Why?”
“Think.”
Silence. A sigh.
“I can’t,” she admitted dramatically, dragging the last word, the alcohol clearly winning. Boruto chuckled.
“Exactly why he’d hang himself.” She laughed, nudging his ankle with her foot.
“Keep quiet. People are sleeping,” he hissed, though his voice was still warm with amusement. Sarada smiled faintly, patting his shoulder.
“…Boruto, I’m glad you sometimes act like yourself. Finally heard your laugh. Haven’t heard it in years.”
Boruto didn’t answer. Something inside him twisted faintly. The air was sticky with the ocean breeze. Lights flickered above. Finally—her door.
“Your room. Can you make it in yourself?”
“I’ll try.” He gave her a look that said he doubted it. “If you feel nauseous…call me.”
“Yessir,” she cooed, swaying as she unlocked the door. Before stepping in, she turned, cutting the distance between them.
“See ya, Uzumaki.” Barely balancing on her toes, she kissed his cheek, leaving a faint red mark. Boruto froze. For a split second, he swore he was the drunk one, because his knees almost buckled.
“…Goodnight.”
The door creaked shut. He stood there longer than he’d admit, his face hot enough to steam. Slowly, his fingers brushed the spot where she’d kissed, smudging the lipstick. He turned away, heading for his own room.
What a night to remember.
Notes:
Sooo for the hotel I actually remembered my trip to Egypt (again) in 2022 this time lol when we had like this HUGE hallway with so so many different rooms.
Chapter 8: Headache and heat
Summary:
After the hungover Sarada and the others realise that getting drunk in fact isn’t fun. At least in the morning after. But does she remember what happened last night?
Notes:
I am SO sorry for not posting for 2 weeks (or so? Idk) I apologise😭 at some point I thought that my story doesn’t make sense considering how I wanted it to be closer to canon characters traits but after the latest chapter (25) I was like…oh. But anyway, enjoy cuz this is just my silly stupid fiction😛
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The room was completely silent, sometimes accompanied by the muffled sound of Sarada repositioning herself in her bed. A small dim light crept from the bathroom’s half-opened door—probably from the mirror with built-in lights.
She stretched her legs slowly with a small sigh, her dress’s straps halfway down her shoulders.
Leg cramps. Fuck.
Widely opening her eyes, she grimaced in pain, grabbing her calf like it would ease the pain. Shortly after that, the nausea from yesterday’s party hit her like a rock, making her stand up as fast as she could, stumbling over one of her heels she had left absentmindedly right in front of the bathroom door.
***
Cold water hit his face harshly, trying to make half-lidded Boruto wake up.
Boruto couldn’t really understand how his body functioned sometimes. One day—he wakes up after sleeping for six or more hours—which was a rare occurrence for him—still sleepy and tired, like he’d run a marathon while carrying three people on his back, and the next day—doesn’t even sleep for three hours and feels the same.
It wasn’t the latter example, though. He had slept for seven hours without any nightmares or strange occurrences.
He turned the water off, throwing a glance at the mirror.
“That Uchiha girl kissed you. How cute, don’t you think so? Think she’ll kiss you when—”
His heart instantly jumped to his throat, then, with a crash—fell into the abyss.
“Shut the fuck up, moron. Go back to sleep.”Boruto replied harshly, watching as Momoshiki’s silhouette wandered from side to side, the typical cocky smile on his face.
“You’re trembling, boy. Don’t act tuff. At the end of the day, you’re just a loser.” Momoshiki spat, putting his bony pale hand on his shoulder. Boruto shrugged, stepping aside as fast as he could, trying to wave his hand off.
“It’s been eight years and you’re still stuck in my body like a prisoner, now not able to control me. Who’s the loser? Shut your mouth and go rot in the back of my head, asshole.” The blue-eyed snapped, grabbing the door handle and shutting the bathroom door as hard as he could, his breathing trembling.
He’s cold. Or hot? His ears rang. Some black circles—like drops of ink—covered half of his vision, making Boruto rapidly reach for the small kitchen’s tall maroon-ish table, throwing himself into the seat. Water dripped from the faucet in steady splashes.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Again.
And again.
Each sound, like a hit to his temples, echoed in his head.
Boruto sighed, slowly standing up and grabbing a white mug from one of the counters.
***
Oh, her head hurt. She sat on the cold tile, one of her hands grabbing the toilet seat like her life depended on it (for now—it did). After gagging one more time and making sure that there was nothing left in her stomach, she slowly lifted herself up, slowly massaging her throat. One of the things Sarada absolutely couldn’t stand was the feeling of her stomach curling up and making her gag.
If she thought about it, she probably developed some kind of dislike or even fear of throwing up when she was a child and was severely ill.
She turned the water on, throwing a quick glance at the mirror. She hadn’t washed off her makeup. She hadn’t taken a shower. What a great start to the day. Dirty, stinky, sweaty, and nauseous. Great.
Grabbing her facial cleanser, she poured some of the white liquid on her hand, slowly rubbing it on her cheeks.
She noticed that her red lipstick had smudged a little. Maybe it was because of—
Oh.
Oh.
OH.
She sucked in her cheeks, her hands grasping the porcelain sink’s edges. She closed her eyes tight, breathing in deeply.
“No way.”
She looked up, balancing herself on her tiptoes, trying to get a better look at her lips. At the smudged lipstick.
Memories hit her like a train.
“No way.”
Blush crept to her cheeks, making her close her eyes shut and start aggressively rubbing the facial cleanser on her face, like it would wipe away the awkwardness, embarrassment, and the memories she was now experiencing.
Sarada knew she lost herself when she had a little bit (it wasn’t “a little bit” yesterday) of alcohol, but to the point where she kissed her… she kissed Boruto? Heck no.
She cringed, her eyebrows knitting together, her hands now working faster.
“Didn’t feel that bad though…” she mumbled, biting her cheek.
“Okay, what am I saying?” Sarada cursed herself in her mind, wondering how she was going to act around Boruto starting from today. Because Boruto—unlike her—wasn’t drunk yesterday.
***
The cafeteria of the cruise liner was filled with people, the rhythmic sound of dishes being filled with food mixing with the sound of waves bashing against the ship.
“Holy shit, my head’s spinning. Shikadai, catch me,” Chocho quipped, grabbing waffles from the counter.
“I’m about to fall down myself. Stand up for yourself, fatty,” he hissed, pouring black coffee into his mug.
“Sumire, do you have some painkillers?” Kawaki asked, dropping himself onto the seat.
“Yeah… I took some this morning when I woke up. But I still feel like my head is buzzing.”
“Don’t care. Give me some. And the nausea pills too.” Sumire chuckled. Sometimes Kawaki acted like a small, grumpy child—totally out of character for him. But she liked it quite a lot, actually. Kawaki continued, massaging his temples.
“Got drunk for the first time in my life, and I don’t understand how humans enjoy this. This feels like self-sabotage.”
“Kind of…” Sarada mumbled, sipping some water with lemon.
“Sarada, you want eggs scrambled or boiled?” She twitched in her seat, goosebumps creeping up her thighs. Boruto’s voice.
“…Scrambled.” She gulped awkwardly, sipping her water again.
“Are you sure you ain’t drunk anymore?” Mitsuki questioned, a sly smile forming on his lips.
“Oh, shut up.” A silence settled over the table.
Sarada looked at Boruto, watching him put two eggs on each plate carefully. His white shirt was neatly tucked into his brown shorts, a black belt hugging his waist. She clenched her jaw, blush creeping up her cheeks and ears again. With a loud sigh, Sarada rested her head on her palm, her other hand awkwardly mixing her just-made tea with a spoon.
“And you…” Kawaki started, his tone demanding.
“Yes, you, Himawari.” Himawari gulped, looking down, playing with a fork in her hand.
“Don’t you ever dare to add anything to your drinks again.”
“Agreed.” Boruto nodded, approaching the group, a sign of approval in his voice.
“Inojin couldn’t wash off the whiskers you drew on his face for about fifteen minutes.” Shikadai grinned, patting Inojin’s back slightly, making the blonde cross his arms in annoyance.
“Besides, how the heck did you mix sambuca with apple juice and feel proud of yourself? That mix is absolutely disgusting,” Chocho spat, popping her head out from behind the wall, barely balancing three plates.
“My bad. Won’t do it again. Pinky promise?” Himawari said innocently, offering Kawaki and Boruto her pinky.
Sigh. What a child.
***
DAY 1
The heat rose in shimmering waves from the asphalt, distorting the air. The palm trees by the entrance stood motionless.
“Oh, I’m going to melt down,” Chocho hissed dramatically, fanning herself with her hands.
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this kind of humidity. This is actually crazy.” Shikadai sighed lazily, unlocking his phone.
“Okay, let’s order a taxi… actually, we’ll order two. Chocho, do it.” Shikadai ordered, unlocking his phone.
“Ohhhh uhhh… okay, I’ve got someone called… Kusojiro*.” She stopped, slapping her hand over her mouth.
“You get it… like…” she continued, tittering.
“Like Kuso Jiro*… haha… you’re soooo funny, Chocho.” Inojin blurted out with annoyance, but upon noticing Himawari giggle at this joke, he stopped teasing Chocho.
“Such a henpecked,” Chocho hissed at him, throwing a quick glance at Himawari.
“Ahhhh, damn, he canceled the taxi service.” Shikadai sighed, then looked at his phone.
“This shitty Jiro did the same thing. Oh well, guess we order another one?” she said, tapping her phone screen with her long nails.
*Kuso in Japanese means “shit”
Meanwhile, behind them…
Sarada fanned herself with a pamphlet. Her whole body felt sticky, her hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. Her skin felt like it was burning.
“Why did I even wear black in this weather…” she mumbled to herself, fanning faster.
“Want water? You can rub some on your neck if you want,” Boruto asked awkwardly, handing her his bottle.
“Oh, um…” Sarada paused, quickly looking away, not entirely sure what she could say.
“Take it. You look like a tomato right now.” Sarada playfully poked his chest with her finger.
“I hate tomatoes.”
“I know. I love them. Reminds me of you sometimes.”Sarada arched one of her eyebrows, not entirely sure what he meant by that. Was that supposed to sound offensive or… rather romantic?
Okay, shut it.
It seemed like Boruto didn’t even mind yesterday’s…occurrence. Sarada thought it would be almost impossible talking to him after that, but now she felt at ease.
“Oookay, Hiashi’s coming to pick us up along with some dude whose name I cannot pronounce,” Chocho announced, wiping sweat from her forehead.
***
Boruto carefully unlocked his door, breathing in. It smelled like newly polished wood mixed with the typical smell of sunscreen, stuffy air filling the room. Barely audible sounds of waves and cicadas sounded from afar. A small hotel room—a bed in the left corner, a TV on the right wall, a bathroom tucked into the right corner, and a small sofa with a table near the balcony. He put his luggage on the floor, slowly opening the zip lock. He didn’t bring many clothes, since, well… he didn’t have a lot of them. Two pairs of shorts, grey sweatpants, and three T-shirts, along with swimwear. Feels enough.
He looked at his watch.
13:20.
No wonder it was terribly hot outside.
Boruto checked his phone.
Himawari had sent a message five minutes ago, telling everyone to wait at the entrance of the hotel at 13:40.
Boruto sighed, trying to choose what clothes he should wear.
White shorts and a blue shirt. Yep. Exactly.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Looked at the watch.
13:22.
Are you kidding me?
He laid down. Closed his eyes.
“See ya, Uzumaki.”
He opened his eyes, sucking in his cheeks awkwardly.
Stop. She was drunk.
His fingers unconsciously rubbed the place she had kissed, ears red.
“That was… nice though. But awkward. I should talk to her about this…”
He whispered as quietly as he could, as if there was someone in the hotel room besides him and that white-haired moron.
“Okay, what am I saying… Why do I even care.”
He slapped himself, cringing.
Notes:
OKAY LMFAOOO. For the hotel room the first thing that came to my mind was my trip to Austria in 2023, I remember that hotel so well cuz it was literally amazing. So Sarada’s room pretty much resembles the room I was in😭 the cafeteria however was inspired by my trip to Egypt in 2022 (again, yes, I loved that hotel), cuz the cafeteria was so good
Chapter 9: Like the old times
Summary:
Just a chill chapter filled with fluff and lots of jokes.
Notes:
Hiiii sorry for disappearing again😭 I LOVED writing this chapter😭😭
Place inspirations: the WHOLE beach/seaside/etc are heavily inspired by my trip to Cyprus. I’ve been to Egypt a lot but since it’s mainly famous for the pyramids and hotels I haven’t been to their main city (only one time but I remember it vaguely cuz I was small). So especially future beach scenes are LIKE HEAVILY inspired by my trip to Cyprus. Loved that place. The restaurant is inspired by one restaurant I stopped in for dinner near the seaside too. But for example, volleyball nets and immaculate amount of people was inspired by my trip to Spain heck I swear there were so many people on the streets. And even now when I live here there are so many tourists lmfao
Chapter Text
DAY 1
The streets of Kirigakure were buzzing, getting livelier by the second. In the sunny city streets, tourists explored every avenue, every corner, taking pictures of temples, museums, or just pretty apartments.
Shops opened one after another, and soon the streets filled with tourists with huge backpacks, teenagers, or just shopkeepers trying to attract both. The air was a mix of scents: fresh bread, smoked meat, fast food, tobacco, hookah, perfumes, salty air, sunscreen, flowers. Laughter and conversations created a constant murmur as lines at bars and restaurants stretched to their doors, forming long queues.
“Guys, let’s visit this shop too, please.” Himawari begged, dragging every syllable, grabbing Kawaki by his hand.
“Himawari, this is the fifth shop we’ve visited that’s filled with identical souvenirs.”
“So?” Himawari hissed, already stepping into the shop.
“Everything is literally identical, Himawari.” Himawari looked at Kawaki with annoyance, puffing her cheeks and crossing her arms.
“Oh please, don’t start this again.”Kawaki pouted, covering his face with his hand.
“I’ll go with her. Then we’ll catch up to y’all.” Boruto said softly, approaching Himawari.
“You’re the only one that understands me, Boruto!” Himawari exclaimed, hugging Boruto’s arm.
Boruto smiled. He missed her touch.
***
“Oh, oh, look, it’s a necklace with my name on it!”Himawari chirped, slightly touching the necklace.
“You want it?” Boruto asked, glancing at her. Himawari stopped. Observed the necklace.
“I’ll think about it!”
“If you want something, just tell me, o—“Boruto was cut off by someone slightly poking him from behind.
“Boo.”Sarada sneered, glancing at Boruto.“Came here to buy a hat. My head’s fuming.”She said, approaching Himawari.
“Oh, the hat section is there.”Himawari said innocently, pointing to the right corner of the shop.
“Then I’m off.”
“See ya!”
Black shorts, red tank top, black sandals. Hair tied up. A small black bag slung casually over her shoulder, a black bracelet loose around her wrist. Simple. Sarada style. But somehow, that made it harder to look away.
“Boruto?” Himawari asked, her hands behind her back, slightly leaning on her right leg, glancing at him.
“Yeah? I am here.” He said absentmindedly, still looking in the direction where Sarada went.
“Go with her.”
Boruto paused mid step, eyes glued to Himawari.
“Huh?”
“I said go with her. I need you two together.” She said, tilting her head, a sly smile playing on her face.
“Himawari…”Boruto glanced at her, quite annoyed but actually happy with her offer.She waved him off.
***
Sarada stood near the rectangular mirror, trying on some hats. Most of them were made out of straw, with a small ribbon hanging from the back. She noticed Boruto approaching her from behind.
“Oh, hi. Where’s Himawari?”
“Trying on some clothes, I guess.”
Silence filled the air between them. Boruto stood beside her, quietly staring at himself in the huge mirror plastered on the wall.
He hated the mirror. And his reflection, too. Because, no matter what, where and how, he always saw that disgusting pile of white hair and a pair of purple-ish eyes peeking at him from behind. And his scars, too, Momoshiki wasn’t only one of his concerns. He grimaced, his eyebrows knitting together. Momoshiki’s cocky smile made him lose himself for a second, his gaze wandering somewhere else, his back now facing Sarada.
Sarada noticed it almost immediately, contemplating whether she should interfere or not. But, she cut through the silence almost naturally.
“Hey, which one looks better? This one with the…white bow or the…one without?”
She asked, slightly poking his arm.
He slowly looked back, now focusing on Sarada’s face.
“Uh… I—the bow one, I think.”He mumbled, staring at her.
Something made him pause a little and stare at her longer than he was supposed to. He noticed how her features perfectly harmonized with her profile, her nose slightly tilted upward, giving her an innocent look. Her black hair tied up messily with a claw clip. Also, he noticed that she had a small mole on the right side of her forehead that somehow fitted her perfectly. He looked at her lips. Same lips that kissed his cheek yesterday. She had some lip liner and lip balm on.
He noticed how her mascara smudged a little at the side of her eye.
He impulsively leaned a little, since she was much shorter than him, and raised his hand, brushing it off her cheek with his thumb.
“Huh?” She twitched a little, the hat in her hand squeezing slightly.
“You’ve got some mascara smudged on your cheek.” He said innocently, still trying to rub it off.Sarada stopped, a light smile playing on her lips.
“Oh. Thanks.”She murmured, slightly blushing.
“Hello doves, how are you two do—“
“Himawari!”They both shouted in unison, annoyed.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Anyways, girl, you look stunning!”Sarada nodded, quietly saying “thanks,” her ears red.
***
“Oh, I am absolutely not doing that.”Kawaki snarled, brows furrowed in disgust, his right foot and back leaning on the brick wall behind him.
“It’s just a damn fan, Kawaki. You look like you’ve suffered three degree burns.”Himawari teased.
“It's pink. The fan.”
“So?”
Kawaki glanced at her, clenching his jaw, sighing, and took the fan from Himawari’s hands. He grabbed it, slowly fanning himself. Himawari paused. Took a deep breath. Looked away, tittering. Chocho glanced at him, cringing.
“What?”He growled, putting an ice cold water bottle behind his neck.
Himawari’s attention caught on two familiar silhouettes — Boruto and Sarada, standing close, their shapes easy to recognize even at a distance. Sarada balanced lightly on her tiptoes, her arm resting on Boruto’s shoulder. Boruto was pointing toward the top of the blue temple, saying something only she could hear. Whatever it was, Sarada smiled.
Himawari didn’t even think twice. Slowly grabbing her phone, she took a couple of pictures of them, proudly slipping her phone down her pocket.
***
Soft light spilled onto the streets, the sunset slowly sinking into the horizon. The air smelled of ocean breeze mixed with the faint scent of freshly cut grass. The lively chatter of people faded into a soft, steady hum, occasionally broken by bursts of laughter from passing travelers.
“Are you sure this is where we’re stopping?” Sarada asked, eyeing the restaurant menu — awkwardly translated into three languages and the number of people with backpacks (definitely tourists) crowded inside.
“Of course, Sarada. Let’s embrace being tourists for once.” Chocho said slowly, as if savoring each word while carefully lining her lips.
“ OK. Guess we’re going in then.”Shikadai mumbled, slowly pushing the door.
***
They settled into a corner table by the window, overlooking the shoreline. Boruto sat nearest to the glass, eyes wandering to the beach outside. A few palm trees swayed lazily in the wind. People were playing volleyball, occasionally falling into the sand but always getting up, brushing themselves off, and continuing the game with determined energy.
He leaned his head into his hand, watching the waves roll in. They moved slowly but steadily, white foam creeping over the shore and swallowing up the sand. Here and there, figures bobbed in the water.
His gaze shifted to Sarada beside him. Her black mini dress, trimmed with red lace around the waist, suited her perfectly. Her hair curled slightly — probably from the humidity. If memory served, it always curled a little after they played in the river as kids.
“Who’s drinking tonight?” Chocho asked brightly, glancing around the table in expectation.
“Not making that mistake again.”Kawaki said flatly, clearly still holding a grudge over last night’s…experience.
“So… everyone except Kawaki and Boruto?” She teased, her voice already full of anticipation.
Sarada glanced at Boruto, waiting for his answer. He hesitated, looked at her, then away. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but Sarada nudged his hand beneath the table, making him look at her again. There was something in her gaze that caught him off guard. Without breaking eye contact this time, he gave a soft, uncertain answer:
“I’ll have a little.”
Sarada’s eyes lit up, and in that moment she realized: slowly but surely, she was breaking down the wall Boruto had spent years building around himself. She relaxed but didn’t let go of his hand.
“Think you can survive one glass?” She teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“I’ll live.” He smiled.
***
“Can I try?”
Sarada leaned in toward Boruto, eyeing the glass of red wine in his hand.
He gave a small nod, and she took the glass for a sip.
“It’s dry… and way too bitter. How can you drink this?” She grimaced, the bitter aftertaste lingering on her tongue. To her, this didn’t even taste like wine.
“Bitter. Like my life.”Boruto said dramatically, taking another sip. Sarada winced, nose scrunching, lips twitching with amusement. Chocho, catching the exchange, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Never make a joke like that again.” Chocho said, emphasizing each word while slowly wagging her finger in exaggerated disapproval.
“Major ick.” Inojin muttered under his breath, shooting Chocho a sideways glance.
“Man, I was just trying to be funny. Won’t do that again.” Boruto sighed in mock defeat, lazily twirling his lasagna around his fork.
“She didn’t mean it like that, Boruto-kun. We actually like it when you joke. I mean, back…” Sumire paused, glancing briefly at Kawaki. Everyone noticed.
“…back in the Academy, your dumb jokes had everyone laughing. Remember?” She smiled faintly.
“Exactly! Remember that time you said, ‘If I had to hear about bugs all day, I’d rather listen to Shino-sensei’s love life’?”Sarada broke into laughter halfway through.Boruto froze, accidentally knocking his fork against the plate. His cheeks and ears flushed red, a light tingle creeping up his temples from rising embarrassment.
“Oh. Wow.” Was all he managed to say, which only made Sumire and Sarada laugh harder, their voices echoing through the restaurant.
“Never mention it again.” He mumbled, absolutely defeated.
“Didn’t know my big brother used to be such a savage at that age.” Himawari said between bites of fries.
“You were supposed to be on my side though.” Everyone else laughed. Kawaki gave a small smile, sipping at his beer (yes, Chocho had made him order one). Inojin even choked on his soda, swallowing too quickly. That only made Chocho laugh harder as she patted him on the back.
***
The sea breeze brushed softly against the group’s faces, their hair swaying gently in a slow, lazy dance.Boruto glanced at Sarada, who was animatedly chatting with Shikadai. Soft lights from the nearby stores and streetlamps painted her face with a delicate glow, making her large, dark eyes shimmer with quiet elegance.
“I’m not full yet. We should stop by that supermarket near the hotel and grab some snacks.” Chocho announced, her tone as demanding as ever.
“You ate two portions of lasagna and stole my potato chips.” Himawari muttered under her breath, irritated, glaring at her — still unable to understand how Chocho could fit so much food in her stomach.
“ My bad...I love potato chips.”
“Yeah, we’ve noticed.” Inojin teased, hands tucked casually in his pockets. Sarada caught Boruto’s gaze on her and, finishing her conversation with Shikadai, turned to him with a soft smile.
“You know… you’re not so bad to travel with.” She said, her tone playful, her smile gentle.
“Thanks, I guess.”Boruto threw back at her, grinning like an idiot. He hadn’t drunk much — just a glass of wine — but for some reason, his ears were glowing red.
Sarada let out a quiet sigh, adjusting her glasses with her right hand. As she lowered her hand, it brushed lightly against his wrist, then slowly slid down to his palm, grazing over his fingers.
“Oop. Sor—” She started to apologize, but Boruto gently caught her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.
Sarada understood.
And she didn’t mind.
She liked it.
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, then slowly, awkwardly, shifted to Boruto’s face. Her cheeks burned pink. Without realizing it, she inched a little closer to him.
Thank you, Boruto.
She thought quietly to herself.
The storm that had been raging in her heart for so long finally began to settle, little by little.
She appreciated every step Boruto took. Even if those steps were small, clumsy, or awkward, she was grateful for each one.
The sea breeze kept brushing against them, making their hair dance slowly in the wind…
Chapter 10: Salty water and scars
Summary:
I like this chapter ehehjeejejejej this is the turning point of the fanfiction by the way😇
Place inspiration: CYPRUSSSSS. Loved that place😭
Notes:
PLS check the notes at the end if you get confused while reading the chapter, it’s IMPORTANT.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Day 2
The beach was already crawling with people despite it being barely ten in the morning.
“What a drag.”Shikadai muttered, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he balanced snacks, drinks, and two striped chairs.
“Don’t be so grumpy.”Chocho chimed, fanning herself.
“Easy for you to say with a purse and a fan in your hands.That’s it.”
“Lame. Look, no one else is complaining.” Boruto wasn’t listening. He was hauling umbrellas and Sarada’s overstuffed bag, still not sure how she’d packed it that heavy. Kawaki trudged behind, loaded down with more chairs and blankets.
“Can we stop here?” Shikadai groaned. Chocho glanced in annoyance.
“Whatever you say.”
***
The waves gently rocked, as if luring people closer. The water was crystal clear, the kind of soft blue you’d only see in movies. Like something out of The Blue Lagoon.The sand burned beneath if you wandered too far from the shore. Everyone except Sarada had already gone into the water. Shikadai had gone to get some drinks with Kawaki. Himawari was swimming awkwardly with a frog-like style, which made Inojin laugh — only to earn himself a smack on the head.
“My dad taught me to swim like that. Shut it.”She scolded, splashing the salty water, as if trying to attack Inojin.
Chocho was busy taking a few selfies before flopping onto the bright pink inflatable mattress she bought yesterday from one of those identical little stores.Sumire sat quietly near the edge of the water, surrendering to the waves — but not fully. That was quickly fixed when Himawari pulled her in, dunking her head-first with a squeal.
And Boruto… Wait.
Where was Boruto?
Sarada only noticed his absence now. The heat pressed down on her temples, making her feel sick, desperate to just throw herself into the sea already. But Boruto’s absence unsettled her more than the heat ever could. A sudden gust of wind tickled her skin, strands of her hair sticking to her neck from the sunscreen. Only then did she stop rubbing lotion on her arm, scanning the beach.
Oh. Boruto. There he was.
Sitting on a lounge chair, barely three meters away, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze locked on nothing, leg shaking. Monotonously. Impulsively. He hadn’t taken his shirt off. Not his shorts either. He just sat there, fingers gripping the hem of his pale blue shirt.
Sarada said nothing.
A frown settled between her brows. She kept watching him, unable to look away.
He lifted his shirt slightly, only to lower it instantly at the sight of a pale scar across his stomach. He dragged the fabric back down, his expression twisted in disgust.
***
He tugged at the hem of his shirt again.
Her throat tightened. Something stabbed at her heart, sharp and sudden.
It’s just Boruto. Just Boruto.
Then why did this stupid little sight make her heart ache like this? The fact he wasn’t looking at anyone. Not even himself. It made her want to bite her tongue, twitch in frustration, get angry… at herself, at him, at this whole situation.She put the sunscreen bottle down.She didn’t think it through. Just grabbed a soda from their mini fridge and marched towards him, determined.
***
From the endless loop of thoughts consuming him, Boruto was pulled back by Sarada’s approaching figure.
“Want some?” She asked, offering the bottle.
“ I’ll pass. Thanks.”Sarada crouched down, planting herself in the sand right in front of him.
Boruto averted his gaze, watching Himawari in the distance as she cannonballed into the water.His lips curled faintly, almost like a smile.
“Did you see how your sister dragged Sumire in? Thought she was gonna drown her for a second.” Sarada chuckled, opening the soda and taking a sip.
“Yeah. She used to do that too when we were little.” Sarada smiled.
“I don’t remember the water being this clean though. Last time we were here, it looked way darker.” She mumbled, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist.
“Mmm.” Boruto kept silent. His mind was somewhere else entirely. Or maybe he just felt awkward sitting here like this. Sarada didn’t look away from him. Instead, she stood up, brushed the sand off her knees, and sat down on his lounge chair.
“You don’t have to hide it from me.” Boruto clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the sand.
The blue waves rolled calmly onto the shore.
The sun blazed above them. Laughter and voices crowded the air. The scent of salt and moisture hung heavy.
Sarada didn’t push him. And she never would.
She simply lifted her hand and gently brushed it over his arm, where a scar peeked out. Her fingers paused, thumb moving in slow, light circles over the mark Jura had left. Boruto looked at her. Strands of her hair fell across her cheek, but her gaze stayed on his arm. Not disgusted. Not pitying him like he was some fragile thing. She looked at him like he was… just human.
Nothing more, nothing less.
He grimaced, slipping on his sandals fast, hissing when the hot sand stung his toes.
Without a word, he awkwardly pulled off his shirt. Sarada remembered the large black tattoo-like scar stretching across his chest, creeping up to his neck and down his stomach. But she hadn’t remembered the others.
Boruto caught her looking. His gaze slipped away.
“You have SPF?” He shook his head.
“You can borrow mine. I’ll get it for you.”She mumbled, standing up.
***
He had seen himself as someone undeserving of care, of kindness, of love. Especially from Sarada. She was too good for him. Too smart. Too capable. Too determined. Too… perfect.
And him?
Broken. Scarred. Alien hybrid. Filled with insecurities and self-loathing. Unable to enjoy simple things. Unable to communicate without fumbling. Blamed for every disaster. A stain on her reputation. On everyone’s, actually. Or so he thought. But looking back… Sarada had never cared what people thought of him. Of them. She never would. She didn’t care that he wasn’t perfect. That he had an alien inside him. That he was awkward. Too cold. Too serious. Too broken.
***
The sting of those thoughts vanished as Sarada returned, handing him the SPF bottle.
“Here you go. Want me to help?” She asked, sipping her soda again.
“Only… the back, if you don’t mind.”His voice was awkward, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Sarada opened the bottle, spraying sunscreen into her palm. Her hands moved gently across his back. He flinched when she brushed over one of the redder scars.He scratched at his arm, anxious, but stayed quiet.
“You know none of us care about your scars, right?” She asked, her touch soft but steady. He stopped scratching. Bit his lip. Sighed. She could feel the tension crawling beneath his skin.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like me.” He forced the words out, clearing his throat after. His voice trembled. His throat tightened. She paused, letting the silence breathe between them. His eyes drifted back to the shoreline.
“I hate myself so much sometimes, it makes me sick.”He rasped, gaze hollow, words emptying out of him. Sarada inhaled slowly. As if nothing had happened, she resumed rubbing sunscreen across his back.
“You’re still Boruto, though. And after everything… you’re allowed to feel like this.” He stayed silent, jaw tight.
“It hurts me too, y’know. Watching you hate yourself. Push everyone away. I’m your—”She stopped herself. Looked down at her hand.
“I…care about you. So. Damn. Much, idiot.” Each word landed with weight. Her hand settled on his shoulder like it belonged there. She stayed behind him, still unable to see his face.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this. Not you.”
He broke then, finally. His voice cracked apart, trembling. His jaw locked. His expression twisted between shame, sadness, and hopelessness. He was glad Sarada couldn’t see his face. He looked…pathetic. Or so he thought. He stood frozen, paralyzed. His mind was blank. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do.
Then—Sudden warm sensation slowly wrapping around his back. The sounds were muffled, as Boruto’s head filled with nothing but silence. Her arms wrapped around his waist, tight. Her hair brushed his neck, cheek pressed lightly against one of his scars. Boruto froze. His eyes widened slowly, glossing over, lips pressed together. He lifted his hands, gently holding her wrists, tilting his head down. A shaky breath escaped him. His thumb traced slow circles over her wrist. Her breath brushed against his ear. He doesn’t remember for how long they stood like that. He does remember two or three food sellers passing by though. Sarada slowly let him go, and, grabbing him by his wrist, pulled him into the water playfully, without saying a word. Slowly, but steadily, they approached others. Boruto caught her watching him sometimes, and he didn’t mind.
Notes:
So, if some people are confused, because I don’t think that Boruto would care too much about his scars. Clarifying: the “physical” scars represent his mental struggles. His loneliness, and everything he’d dealt with.
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