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The last of the sunlight had disappeared, and only the soft glow of the indoor lamp filled the Uzumaki living room. Boruto sat at the low table, not eating, but using his chopsticks to poke angrily at his instant ramen.
His mother, Hinata, sat across from him. She was silently and neatly folding a basket of clean clothes. Her quiet, steady movements were a sharp contrast to Boruto's mood. The room was silent until Boruto let his chopsticks fall hard onto the table.
“He’s late. Again.” The tone made it clear he meant the Hokage.
Hinata offered a gentle, calm smile. “He’s doing vital work, Boruto. There was a lot of difficult paperwork from the diplomatic meetings today.”
“It’s not just the work, Mom,” Boruto muttered, finally pushing his untouched ramen away. “It’s that he never talks about anything real. I asked him this morning, about the stories, the stuff that happened before he got famous. Before he became hokage.” He gestured impatiently toward the window, where the carved faces of the Hokages were now shadowed against the dark sky.
“And what did he say?” Hinata asked, her voice soft.
Boruto scoffed. “Same thing. ‘You worry too much, Boruto just focus on being a great ninja now.’ Always that big, loud, fake-happy voice. He talks about being Hokage and world peace, but he treats everything about being just Naruto like it’s a secret mission file. Why can’t he just be honest about his life?”
Hinata paused her folding, her eyes full of sympathy. “Boruto, your father has a heavy duty. He protects Konoha with his power, but he protects you and Himawari by putting his hardest memories away. He truly believes the past should stay buried so the future can be bright.”
Boruto suddenly stood up, knocking his chair back with a loud scrape. “But how am I supposed to connect with him if he hides the most important parts? He just wants me to salute the monument and believe the poorly detailed stories! I need to know what he was actually like before the robes and the fame! I need the truth, not a bedtime story!”
His frustration wasn't about the pain itself, but the lack of trust, the feeling that his father was hiding a whole identity from him. He felt an intense need to find out what his father was hiding.
“Im sure he’ll tell you when you’re ready, or for that matter, when he’s ready.” Hinata said softly, trying to ease the tension.
“But I’m his son! He should already trust me, I just doesn’t make sense!” Boruto crossed his arms.
Hinata gave him a sympathetic look before speaking again. “Do not yell, your sister is asleep.”
Boruto muttered something under his breath and his mother gave him a stern look. “..sorry.”
Hinata just sighed and folded one of Naruto’s shirt.
Boruto didn’t look back at his mother. The fire in his chest was too hot to allow for hesitation. He grabbed his sandals and jacket and was out the front door in a flash, slamming it just a bit too hard in his haste.
He jumped onto the nearest rooftop and started running, letting the cool night air rush past his face. He ignored the usual routes and headed directly toward the oldest part of the village, a district rarely used anymore by the Hokage.
His mind was focused on one place: The Forbidden Archive Tower.
This was not the public library, nor the highly guarded Hokage Office vault. This was a crumbling, stone spire tucked behind the old Academy, used only for storing relics deemed too unstable or bizarre for official records. Boruto had stumbled upon it months ago during a rogue mission, and he instantly knew it was the kind of place his secretive father would use to hide the most dangerous truth: a loophole in time.
He landed silently on the roof of the tower. He located the secret, slightly loose roof tile and slipped into the dim, dusty space below.
The air here was cold and smelled of stone, ancient scrolls, and something metallic. Boruto didn’t exactly know where to go. He moved past shelves of decaying documents and broken sealing jars until he reached the far corner.
There, resting on a pedestal that was cracked and stained with old jutsu residues, was the source of the paradox: a smooth, fist-sized black stone orb. It didn’t glow, it seemed to absorb all the light around it, appearing as a pure, unsettling void. Boruto had heard about it before, but never had the guts to use it himself. It was what some would call, a literal time machine.
Boruto knelt beside the pedestal. He knew the risk, and he no longer cared. The truth was worth it.
He reached out and, without hesitation, placed his palm flat against the cool, unnervingly smooth surface of the stone.
The moment his skin touched the relic, the air in the small chamber snapped. The black orb screamed to life, not with light, but with a rush of intense, pure darkness that swallowed the faint lamp glow. A sound like grinding stone filled the room, and the sensation of being stretched thin was agonizing and immediate.
Before he could even register the pain, before he could scream or regret his choice, the space around him fractured and collapsed inward.
Then, there was only silence.
The next moment he opened his eyes, he was in Konoha again, but it seemed older and different.
“Yes!!” Boruto loudly whispered to himself.
He got up from the ground and felt the fresh summer air. People were walking on the streets, seemingly ignoring him.
Then he saw her, his mother, but younger. She was talking to Kiba about a mission they just finished.
All he could think about is how pretty she was, and still is in the future. And he saw how young Kiba also looked. His dog Akamaru was also small and looked cute.
He went over to them quickly.
“Sorry, do you guys know where Naruto Uzumaki is?” Boruto spoke, knowing it was bold of him to just got up to strangers and ask them direct questions, but they weren’t strangers to him.
Hinata looked at him for a couple of seconds while Kiba chuckled a little.
“Are you looking for him cause you’re his long lost brother or something? You guys are identical!” He laughed out while Hinata blushed and looked away.
“No, nothing like that! I’m just on a mission. He’s the Jinchūriki, right?” He slapped his head internally, knowing it was a shit excuse.
“Yes, but I-I’m not sure where he is, you could ask the Hokage, uhm.. Lady Tsunade.” It was so obvious that Hinata was blushing while she spoke about Naruto.
“Yeah man, he just got back from a mission with us. If you ask me, I totally saved his ass.” Kiba exclaimed loudly. “I’m Kiba by the way, and this is Hinata.”
“My name is..” Damn, he can’t say his real name, can he?
“Makoro! Yes, Makoro. Anyway, thanks guys, maybe I’ll see you later?” Boruto said while he started walking away. He could hear them talking about how he looked the same as Naruto himself.
It was weird lying to the people he knew, but it would be stupid of him to say who he really was.
After speaking to Lady Tsunade, who was more bolder and asked more questions, he found out Naruto went off to the training field.
He wasn’t really sure where it was, cause some things did look different. Then he looked at a familiar figure again.
Shikamaru.
He had a cigarette in his mouth and seemed like he was waiting for someone.
“Hey, could you tell me where the training field is?” Boruto approached him and took a good look. He had the same hairstyle as in the future, a tight ponytail as always.
Shikamaru sighed and muttered something that sounded closely to ‘what a drag’. Yup, definitely Shikamaru.
“I haven’t seen you around before? Are you new here or just on a mission?” The taller guys asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. He looked almost the same, but younger, of course.
“My name is.. Makoro! I’m on an mission for a contact outside the village. I need to leave a message for a young shinobi. He’s about fifteen, loud, blonde hair, whiskers-“
“Naruto Uzumaki?”
Boruto nodded.
Shikamaru’s eyes narrowed slightly as he flicked the last bit of ash off his cigarette. The ember glowed faintly in the darkening evening light, hovering between orange and ember-red.
“Well… Naruto, huh?” he said, blowing a quiet stream of smoke upward. “If that’s who you’re looking for, we’re headed the same direction.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the deeper training fields. “I was supposed to meet up with him anyway. Something he forgot.”
Boruto blinked. “You planned to meet up with him too?”
“Yeah,” Shikamaru replied with a sigh that felt older than his teenage body. “Troublesome guy forgot a mission report at Ichiraku’s. Again. I figured I’d drop it off before he starts panicking.”
Boruto swallowed his excitement and nodded. “Can I come with you?”
“Suit yourself,” Shikamaru said, starting down the dirt path without waiting. “Not like I care. But talking to Naruto’s always a drag, so… if he starts yelling, I’m not getting involved.”
Boruto kept pace beside him. His heart felt like a frenzied drum inside his chest, raw adrenaline, anticipation, and the impossibility of his situation twisting together into something almost dizzying.
They walked along a narrow, winding road that split open into a wide clearing of tall grass. The lingering heat of the day clung to the air, mixing with the smell of disturbed soil and faint chakra residue from earlier training sessions. Fireflies blinked on and off like blinking lanterns in the shadows.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Shikamaru stuffed his hands into his pockets with that familiar slouch Boruto had seen a thousand times in his own era, when this man was an adviser, a strategist. But here, right now, he was just a bored teenager, sharp-eyed and unbothered in a way that felt… comforting.
“So,” Shikamaru said eventually, tone casual but probing, “you’re on a mission, you said.”
Boruto tensed. “Yeah.”
“What kind?”
“A… message delivery,” Boruto said, trying to keep it vague.
“Hmm.” Shikamaru gave him a long side-eye. “You don’t look like a messenger. Not really.”
Boruto forced a shrug. “What do I look like then?”
Shikamaru smirked the smallest amount. “Like someone trying too hard not to look like anything.”
Boruto’s steps stuttered for a moment. “Is that… bad?”
“Didn’t say it was,” Shikamaru replied. “Just means you’re hiding something.”
The honesty hit Boruto harder than he expected. In this era, Shikamaru’s sharpness wasn’t weighed down by politics or war. It was clean and instinctual. It made him feel exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
Boruto looked away toward the treeline. “Maybe I’m just not used to being here.”
Shikamaru hummed. “Then why do you walk like someone who knows the shortcuts?”
Boruto froze mid-step.
Dammit.
Shikamaru continued, unfazed. “You don’t scan the roads. You don’t check corners. You don’t pause at intersections to figure out where you are.” He flicked his cigarette to the side and stepped on the ember. “That’s how the locals move.”
Boruto didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
The cicadas sang loudly in the background, their chorus rising as evening deepened. Somewhere in the distance, a kunai struck a wooden post and clattered to the ground. A faint breeze stirred the tall grass around them.
“Relax,” Shikamaru said, sensing Boruto’s tension. “I’m not interrogating you. It’s just… observations.”
“You’re good at those,” Boruto muttered.
Shikamaru snorted. “Too good, apparently.” He rolled his shoulders lazily. “It’s a pain most of the time.”
They walked further. The beaten path curved past old wooden training poles riddled with dents and scratches. Boruto recognized the area vaguely from stories, this was one of Naruto’s favorite places back when he still trained alone late into the night.
Boruto’s heart squeezed at the thought.
Shikamaru slowed slightly and kicked a loose stone along the path. “You know… you really do look like Naruto.”
Boruto forced a tight laugh. “I’ve been told.”
“It’s not just the face,” Shikamaru said, watching him carefully. “It’s the energy. The way your voice jumps when you talk about him. Kind of… familiar.”
Boruto clenched his jaw. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” Shikamaru replied simply. “Just… weird.”
They walked on. The soft glow of fireflies illuminated their path, drifting like little floating stars. Boruto breathed in deeply, letting the nostalgia wash over him, nostalgia for a time he had never lived in. Konoha felt younger here. War hadn’t yet carved its scars into the streets or its people.
And Shikamaru, walking beside him, felt like a connection between two worlds, one Boruto knew and one he was still trying to understand.
“You said you had a message for Naruto,” Shikamaru said again, but his tone was softer this time. Almost curious. “Feels more personal than professional.”
“Does it?” Boruto asked quietly.
“You flinched when I said his name,” Shikamaru replied. “People only do that when the person matters.”
Boruto’s throat tightened. “Maybe he does.”
Shikamaru didn’t comment. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of leaves overhead.
Finally, he said, “Naruto has that effect on people. Annoying, but… honest. Inspires loyalty without meaning to.” He paused, then added with a faint smirk, “It’s troublesome. He collects weirdos.”
Boruto’s chest warmed unexpectedly. “In the future too,” he whispered before catching himself.
Shikamaru stopped walking.
Boruto panicked internally, but Shikamaru didn’t turn around. He just tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, processing something silently.
“Future?” Shikamaru repeated, tone light but edged with interest.
Boruto swallowed hard. “Figure of speech.”
Shikamaru clicked his tongue and resumed walking. “If you say so.”
Boruto let out a quiet breath of relief.
They reached a small wooden footbridge that crossed over a narrow river. The sunset reflected faintly off the gentle ripples. Shikamaru stepped onto the bridge, leaning on the railing and staring down into the water.
Boruto joined him, watching the dark shapes glide beneath the surface, small fish drifting lazily.
“Naruto’s probably still training,” Shikamaru said. “He likes to push himself after missions. Thinks every spare minute should be spent trying to catch up to everyone else.”
Boruto’s lips parted. He still felt that way? Even before everything?
Shikamaru shrugged with one shoulder. “He’s lonely. Won’t say it out loud, but… you can see it around him.” He looked at Boruto. “Maybe that’s why you’re here.”
Boruto’s breath caught.
Shikamaru straightened from the railing. “Come on. He’s probably somewhere by the third clearing.”
Boruto stepped off the bridge beside him. The path ahead was shadowed, leading deeper into the training fields. Each step sent his heart into a new rhythm, fear, hope, confusion, ache.
And Shikamaru, hands back in his pockets, walked at an easy pace beside him.
“Whatever you’re looking for,” Shikamaru added quietly, “Naruto’s the kind of guy who’ll give you an answer. Even if it’s stupid.”
Boruto smiled despite the tightness in his chest.
The last stretch of woods thinned out into a wide clearing, the grass flattened from repeated training sessions. The air smelled like dust, summer heat, and the faint tang of sweat, probably from jutsu practice earlier in the day.
“We’re close,” Shikamaru said, though he barely looked like he cared. His hands stayed in his pockets, steps lazy. “He always crashes somewhere stupid when he runs out of chakra.”
Boruto didn’t comment. He kept his pace steady, eyes sharp. Inside, though, a restless energy chewed at him. He’d spent years staring at the adult version of Naruto, the Hokage who never slept, who was too busy for dinner, who collapsed in his office more often than at home.
But seeing him here, fifteen, alive and real and unpolished…
That hit different.
They stepped past a row of trees, and Boruto saw him immediately.
Naruto was lying on the ground, stretched out like someone who’d dropped mid-sentence. The orange and black jacket was zipped fully, sleeves covering his arms and wrists. His headband was tied properly, though slightly tilted from sleep. His breathing was slow, uneven, like someone who hadn’t slept well in weeks and finally gave in.
Boruto came to a full stop.
Naruto looked thinner than he ever expected. Not sickly, just… underfed. The kind of thin that came from too much work and too little time to take care of himself. Shadows clung beneath his eyes even in sleep. His chest rose lightly under the jacket, the faint shape of muscle barely visible beneath the fabric. Slim. Wiry. A kid who had to rely on sheer stubbornness more than nutrition.
Boruto’s gaze dropped, briefly, to Naruto’s right arm.
Intact.
Whole.
Not replaced with a prosthetic.
Boruto forced his expression to stay neutral, but it startled him more than anything else had tonight.
Shikamaru stopped beside him and sighed. “There he is. Great. Real reliable as always.”
He walked forward and nudged Naruto’s leg with his foot. “Oi. Wake up before something bites you.”
Naruto twitched but didn’t open his eyes.
Shikamaru nudged harder. “Don’t make me dump water on you.”
Naruto groaned, voice raspy. “Mhm…five minutes…”
He crouched, grabbed Naruto’s shoulder, and shook him roughly, not gentle at all.
Naruto jolted upright like a spring-loaded trap. “I’M AWAKE—!”
He blinked around in confusion, hair sticking in every direction.
Boruto watched, arms crossed.
This was definitely not the man who lectured him about professionalism.
Naruto rubbed his face with the heel of his palm and squinted at Shikamaru. “What’s your problem?”
“You left this.” Shikamaru shoved a small rolled scroll against Naruto’s chest.
Naruto blinked at it like it was a foreign object. “Left what?”
“Your mission report.” Shikamaru’s voice was flat. “At Ichiraku’s. On the counter. Next to your empty bowl.”
Naruto stared at the scroll. Then at Shikamaru. Then back at the scroll. “How… how did it get there?”
“You walked there with it,” Shikamaru said. “That’s how.”
Naruto opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out. He slumped forward, shoulders dropping. “Okay… maybe I did forget it.”
Boruto huffed a quiet breath through his nose.
Shikamaru stood, brushing dirt from his pants. “Just don’t lose it again. Tsunade will have my head too if you screw up more paperwork.”
“Man…” Naruto grumbled, “it’s like everyone’s out to get me with this paperwork thing…”
“Maybe stop forgetting everything,” Shikamaru countered.
“Hey!”
But Naruto didn’t finish the comeback.
Because he finally noticed Boruto.
Naruto frowned slightly, startled, as if someone had swapped his reflection for a different person.
He stood up fully, brushing grass from his jacket. Then he pointed directly at Boruto, brows knitting together. “Okay, who’s that? And why does his face look like mine but more… grumpy?”
Boruto straightened his posture. “I don’t look grumpy.”
Naruto squinted harder. “You definitely do.”
Boruto ignored the heat in his neck. “I’m not.”
Shikamaru cut in before the argument could escalate. “He’s not from around here. Makoro.” He gestured lazily. “He was looking for you.”
“For me?” Naruto’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “Wait, really? Like… me specifically?”
“Unfortunately,” Shikamaru said.
Naruto elbowed him. “Hey! Don’t make it sound like a bad thing!”
Boruto simply stared at him.
It was bizarre seeing Naruto this young. This open. This unguarded.
The older Naruto carried exhaustion in his posture but covered it with confidence. This Naruto didn’t cover anything. Everything he felt, fatigue, curiosity, embarrassment, it all flashed openly across his face.
He looked like he hadn’t slept enough in weeks. His stomach was probably half-empty. But his eyes were still bright. Too bright.
“So, Makoro!” Naruto said, stepping forward with way too much enthusiasm for someone who had been unconscious two minutes ago. “Why were you looking for me? You need help with something? Advice? A spar? Autograph? Wait, no, I don’t think I’m famous enough yet for autographs.”
“It’s none of that,” Boruto cut in.
Naruto blinked, caught off guard by the blunt tone. “Then what?”
Boruto met his gaze directly. “I just needed to speak with you.”
Naruto leaned back a little, studying him with new curiosity. Shikamaru watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed.
“Speak with me about… what exactly?” Naruto asked.
“Training,” Boruto said. “Your training. Your experience.”
Naruto’s curiosity sharpened instantly. “My training? Huh. Well, I mean, I can talk about that, sure. I’ve been working my butt off lately.” He flexed an arm without thinking, then embarrassedly rubbed the back of his neck. “Though uh… maybe not today. Kinda ran outta chakra.”
“No kidding,” Shikamaru muttered.
Naruto ignored him. “So! Makoro. What’s your deal? You trying to get stronger or something?”
Boruto hesitated just a second too long.
He wasn’t nervous, not exactly.
But something about seeing Naruto like this made everything he’d rehearsed in his head feel off. Wrong. Too direct. Too personal.
He didn’t want Naruto to see anything strange in him. He didn’t want to slip.
He didn’t want to reveal too much too soon.
“…Something like that,” Boruto said.
Naruto grinned. “Cool! I’m good at helping with ‘something like that.’”
Shikamaru groaned. “No you’re not.”
Naruto turned. “Why are you always like this?”
“Because I know you,” Shikamaru said flatly.
Boruto watched them argue again, and something clicked in his head, not emotionally, not sentimentally, but with a clarity he couldn’t ignore.
This really is him.
Naruto turned back. “Anyway, Makoro, if you want help, you got it! I promise I can-“
“Not here,” Boruto interrupted.
Naruto blinked. “Huh?”
“We’ll talk somewhere else.”
Shikamaru looked between them, eyes narrowing slightly. Sharp. Too sharp for Boruto’s liking.
Naruto, of course, noticed none of it.
He just smiled.
“Alright, sure!”
Konoha’s sunset hit the rooftops at an angle that made the whole village look brighter than it actually was. Naruto walked ahead with the kind of loudly casual enthusiasm Boruto had seen in real time. His future father talked too much, this version talked even more.
“So that there is the market street,” Naruto said, gesturing broadly like a tour guide who didn’t plan anything. “Super crowded around lunch hours, but you can get almost anything here. Well, not anything, but you know… enough stuff.”
Boruto followed, silent, hands in his pockets, trying to focus on the layout of the village instead of the kid in front of him rambling about local snack stands.
Naruto continued, “And over there, see that building? That’s where Iruka-sensei usually hides when he wants to avoid paperwork. Not that he does that often… okay, maybe he does. But that’s between us.”
Boruto almost snorted. Iruka? Hiding from paperwork? The irony wasn’t lost on him considering how adult Naruto drowned in it.
He kept his expression neutral.
Naruto’s head tilted. “You’re kinda quiet, Makoro. You sure you’re not secretly the emo type?”
“I’m not,” Boruto said flatly.
Naruto grinned anyway, not believing him at all. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what my friend used to say too.”
Boruto stiffened a fraction. Right. Sasuke.
Naruto didn’t notice, already pointing somewhere else. “C’mon, let’s cut through here. Shortcut.”
He took a sharp turn into a small road lined with houses. Boruto followed, scanning his surroundings automatically. People here were relaxed. Kids ran past them with sticks pretending they were kunai. A couple of older shinobi sat outside a shop drinking tea or coffee.
Boruto felt a strange jolt, this Konoha wasn’t quiet, but it was calmer. More intact in some ways.
Naruto slowed as they reached a street corner.
“Actually, hey, I should show you the—"
“—NARUTO!”
Boruto’s head snapped toward the voice.
A pink-haired girl in a red outfit marched toward them, expression sharp enough to cut stone. Sakura, younger, looked exactly like she did in the pictures Boruto had seen growing up, but he’d never seen her this… furious.
Naruto flinched before she even reached him. “Ohhh crap, uh, hi Sakura! What’s up?”
“Don’t ‘hi Sakura’ me!” she snapped.
She grabbed Naruto by the front of his jacket, yanking him down to eye level. “Why did I hear from Lady Tsunade that you skipped medical reevaluation again?! And that you ran straight from a mission to Ichiraku without stopping by the hospital?!”
Naruto laughed nervously. “Ahh—w-well—I, uh—see, I was kinda hungry and—”
PUNCH.
Her fist slammed into the top of Naruto’s head with a crack that made Boruto blink. Naruto practically cratered into the ground, face-first, hands twitching.
Boruto’s eyes widened despite himself.
He’d watched Sakura fight before. Adult Sakura. Controlled, powerful, terrifying.
But this? This was unfiltered, emotional, teenage Sakura strength. And Naruto, the strongest man Boruto had ever known, was eating dirt because of one hit.
Naruto groaned from the ground. “Sakuraaa… that really hurt…”
“Good!” Sakura huffed, crossing her arms. “Maybe next time you’ll remember that you have a body that needs medical checkups! You idiot!”
Boruto stood still. Completely still.
Completely expressionless.
Inside, though..
Holy crap. She really hit him. Like actually hit him. In public. And he just let her.
Boruto glanced at Sakura. Her anger was real, but underneath it was something else, a familiar stubborn concern.
Sakura. Sadara’s mother.
He didn’t let a single reaction slip onto his face.
Naruto finally pushed himself up, rubbing a growing lump on his head. “Man, you’re scary…”
“Good.” Sakura’s tone softened just a fraction. “Honestly, Naruto… you can’t keep skipping important checks. You run your chakra too low, you barely eat, your body matters, you know?”
Naruto scratched his cheek sheepishly. “Yeah… yeah, I know.”
Boruto stared.
Naruto, underfed, sleep-deprived, chakra drained, getting lectured about basic health?
It was almost too literal.
Sakura finally turned her focus toward Boruto for the first time. Her eyes sharpened on instinct, evaluating him in a heartbeat.
“And who’s this? Another troublemaker you picked up?”
Naruto perked up proudly. “Oh! This is Makoro. I’m uh, kinda showing him around.”
“Shikamaru asked him to.” Boruto added before Naruto made something up.
Sakura raised a brow. “At least one of you has a functioning brain.”
Naruto protested, “Hey!!”
Boruto kept his face straight.
Sakura stepped closer, studying Boruto more directly. “You look familiar… but I guess I’d remember if I’d seen you before.”
Boruto forced a shrug. “I’m just passing through.”
Sakura nodded slowly, though her eyes lingered on him longer than he liked. “Well, if Naruto’s helping you, just… don’t let him drag you into anything stupid.”
Naruto pointed dramatically. “I don’t drag people into stupid stuff!”
Boruto said, “You definitely do.”
“Makoro!”
Sakura sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “I don’t have the energy for both of you.” She turned away. “Naruto, don’t forget your appointment tomorrow. I’ll know if you skip it.”
Naruto winced. “Y-yeah. Got it.”
She left with brisk steps, muttering something about ‘teenage boys with no survival instincts.’
Boruto watched her go, processing the clash of expectations.
That’s… Sarada’s mom. Younger. Fiercer. Still scary as hell.
Naruto dusted grass off his jacket. “Man… Sakura’s got a punch like a rampaging boar…”
“You deserved it.” Boruto said casually.
Naruto gaped at him. “Why is everyone taking her side?!”
Boruto shrugged, not missing a beat. “Maybe because you’re wrong.”
Naruto clutched his chest dramatically. “Makoro… I thought we were bonding!”
“We’re not.”
“Yes we are!”
Boruto sighed through his nose, turning away so Naruto couldn’t see the corner of his mouth threatening to twitch upward.
“Let’s just keep going,” Boruto said. “You were showing me the village, right?”
Naruto brightened instantly. “Right! Okay, next stop, but I gotta go home shower..”
Boruto followed, silently.
This place… this time… these people…
It was more chaotic than he expected.
Naruto pushed open the door to his apartment with his foot, muttering something about locks always sticking. The hinges squeaked loudly as if complaining about being used. The air inside smelled faintly of old wood, dust, and cheap seasonings.
“Alright, Makoro, welcome to my home!” Naruto announced proudly.
Boruto stepped inside and immediately understood why Naruto sounded proud: because nobody else would’ve been.
The place was… rough.
Not filthy, but clearly lived in by someone who came home only to sleep, eat instant noodles, and leave again. The walls were chipped in some places, patched clumsily with tape or old newspaper. The carpet near the couch had a burn hole Boruto didn’t want to know the story behind. A stack of mission reports, all dog-eared and scribbled on, sat on a crooked table leg that had been ‘fixed’ with a folded shoe.
A draft leaked through a poorly shut window.
The entire apartment felt too quiet, too empty, too alone.
Naruto stepped out of his sandals, tossing them in a corner that already held two mismatched socks and a kunai.
“Make yourself at home! Uh, just ignore… everything.” Naruto waved vaguely at the chaos. “I was gone for two days. Or three? I lost count.”
The shadow under Naruto’s eyes made that believable.
He walked toward the kitchen, opening cabinets quickly. “If you want tea, there’s some. If you want ramen..” he paused when he found a half-opened box “yeah, this one’s still good. Probably. Should be.”
Boruto raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering me expired food?”
Naruto laughed as if that was totally normal. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it! And anyway, I usually eat it before it expires, so we’re safe.”
Unbelievable, Boruto thought.
Even at fifteen, he was the same disaster.
Naruto stretched his arms above his head, jacket sleeves covering everything down to the wrists, and then cracked his back with a relieved groan.
“I’m gonna shower real quick,” he said. “Mission grime and sweat.. Ugh. Sakura will yell at me again if she smells me from a distance.”
Boruto blinked. “…She can do that?”
“Oh yeah. She’s like a hawk. A very violent hawk.”
Naruto headed toward the bathroom, but stopped halfway, turning around with that same stupidly open grin.
“Oh! And Makoro, seriously. Make yourself at home. Drink something! Eat ramen! Just don’t, uh… don’t open the closet.”
Boruto stared. “Why not?”
“…Because I don’t remember what’s in it.”
Then Naruto vanished into the bathroom with a whistle, the door slamming shut behind him.
Seconds later the pipes rattled and the shower sputtered to life.
Boruto stood there in the middle of the apartment, alone.
He let out a long breath.
So this is what his life was like…?
He walked further inside, studying everything with quiet disbelief.
A cracked picture frame hung crooked on the wall, Naruto with Team 7, everyone younger, more energetic. Sakura smiling brightly. Sasuke with his usual irritated glare. Kakashi half hidden behind his mask and book.
Boruto straightened the frame with two fingers.
He lived like this. Ate like this. Slept like this. Alone.
The shower ran steadily behind the thin wall. Boruto could hear Naruto humming some off-key tune, shifting around, probably bumping into things. He really was restless, even when showering.
Boruto crossed the living room and nudged a pile of old scrolls with his foot. They toppled over instantly. He picked one up, half-completed training notes, badly written, stained with who-knows-what.
He shook his head.
On the small kitchen counter, there were exactly three cups. One chipped, one cracked, and one that looked like it survived a war. Boruto picked up the least damaged one and set it in the sink.
A pot still had water that was a couple days old. A ramen cup lid was peeled halfway and left abandoned. A kunai was sitting next to a bowl like it was a normal utensil.
Boruto sighed under his breath.
“This place is a disaster…”
But underneath the mess, something poked at him.
A feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge. A small ache.
His father, Naruto Uzumaki, the man who became Hokage, had really grown up like… this. In a cramped, lonely, half-broken apartment that barely felt like a home. No family. Nobody cooking for him. Nobody fixing anything. Nobody making sure he slept or ate properly.
Boruto tightened his jaw.
No wonder he always looks tired… he’s been doing this since he was a child.
Through the door, Naruto knocked something over. “I’m okay!” he shouted, as if Boruto had asked.
Boruto stared at the bathroom door.
“…Still an idiot,” he muttered.
But he didn’t sound annoyed. Not really.
He walked toward the window and pushed it shut properly, blocking the draft. Then he gathered some mission reports into a neater pile. He didn’t touch everything, just the small things, the things Naruto wouldn’t notice.
The shower continued running, steam building behind the door.
Boruto sank onto the sagging couch. Springs creaked beneath him.
He looked around once more, at the patched walls, the chipped cup, the ramen boxes, the crooked photo, the kunai on the table.
And for the first time since arriving in the past...
He didn’t know what to think.
About his father. Or about himself.
He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ceiling.
The water shut off for a second, then restarted, Naruto probably fiddling with the knob again.
Boruto smirked faintly despite himself.
Still an idiot.
Everything else? Complicated.
He leaned back against the couch and waited, listening to the water hitting the shower floor, realizing he was getting a rare look into a life his father never talked about.
Fifteen minutes passed before the shower finally shut off. A few seconds later, the bathroom door creaked open.
Naruto stepped out, towel slung over his neck, hair dripping onto his shoulders. He wore loose gray sweatpants and… nothing else. No shirt. His torso looked even thinner than before, all ribs and faint muscle definition with barely any fat on him. But what really caught Boruto’s attention were Naruto’s arms.
They were wrapped. Completely wrapped.
Thick, neat bandages covered everything from the tops of his shoulders down to his wrists. Not a single patch of skin showing.
Boruto blinked, startled. Naruto clearly hadn’t remembered he was shirtless until he saw Boruto staring, his eyes widened a little, and he fumbled with the towel like he was trying to cover one shoulder.
“Ah—sorry,” Naruto said quickly. “Forgot my shirt.”
Boruto’s eyes flicked back to the bandages. “Why… uh… why do you have all that?”
He tried to keep his voice casual. He didn’t want to sound freaked out. But it still came out a little stiff.
Naruto froze for half a second. Just half a second, but Boruto caught it.
Then the kid forced a smile. Not a big one. Just enough that he clearly hoped it would end the conversation.
“Oh, this? Just mission stuff,” Naruto said too fast. “Got scraped up a bit. Nothing serious.”
Boruto raised an eyebrow. Scrapes didn’t require full-arm bandages like that. Not from shoulder to wrist on both sides. It was overkill, even for Naruto.
But Naruto didn’t give him time to question it. He scratched the back of his head with his hand, like the wrapped arms made it stiff. He and awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Anyway! I, uh, should grab a shirt.”
He motioned toward his bedroom with a jerk of his chin and started walking. Boruto followed him automatically, though he stayed a couple steps behind. Naruto didn’t look back, didn’t talk, didn’t explain more. His shoulders seemed a little tense as he walked, like he could feel Boruto staring at the bandages even when he wasn’t.
They reached his bedroom door, which was half open like earlier. Naruto pushed it the rest of the way with his foot.
The room looked as rough and bare as Boruto had glimpsed before from the hallway, old mattress, thin blanket, cracked window glass above the bed, not much else. Naruto was used to it, though. He walked in like it was normal.
He went straight to the dresser, yanked open the nearest drawer, and fished around until he pulled out a black t-shirt. It was a little worn, stretched around the collar. Probably one he used for missions or sleep. He didn’t seem picky.
Boruto stood in the doorway, watching quietly. Naruto wasn’t talking. He was focused on getting dressed with quick, stiff movements, like he wanted the whole moment over with as fast as possible.
And again, Boruto noticed the way Naruto kept his bandaged arms angled slightly away from view whenever he turned. Not obvious enough to look suspicious to a stranger, but Boruto wasn’t a stranger. Not in the same way.
Naruto tugged the t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, pulling the fabric down and adjusting it around his arms.
“There,” he said, forcing a smile again. “Much better.”
But Boruto could tell the kid was still a little nervous. Not scared, just uneasy. Like he didn’t want anyone asking questions about something he wasn’t ready to explain.
Boruto didn’t push. Not yet.
Naruto stepped past him, back out into the hallway, still drying his hair with the towel.
“Alright,” he said, trying to sound normal again, “now that I’m not walking around like a half-dressed idiot, what do you wanna do next?”
And Boruto followed him out of the doorway, still thinking about those bandages, still thinking about how little Naruto wanted to talk about them.
And how much he probably didn’t want anyone to see.
“Alright then,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Let’s get that mission-talk stuff outta the way.”
Boruto nodded and pulled out his notebook. It was mostly empty, but he kept his face calm. He didn’t want Naruto catching him slipping even once.
He started asking the questions, simple ones, nothing personal. Stuff about patrol routes, general village layout, how often shinobi were rotated between border checks, whether certain district gates were usually open or locked at night… The kind of things anyone on a scouting mission might need to know. Boruto kept it all short and vague, letting Naruto fill in the answers without going too deep.
Naruto sat across from him and answered everything without fuss. He leaned his arms on the table, bandaged all the way up, and occasionally tapped his fingers as he talked. Boruto noticed he didn’t give long explanations. Just enough. Naruto didn’t overthink any of it.
“Okay, uh… next one?” Naruto asked.
“That’s all,” Boruto said, snapping his notebook shut. “Good enough.”
“Oh. That was it?” Naruto blinked, surprised. “Huh. That was way easier than I thought it’d be.”
Boruto shrugged. “Just doing what I was told.”
Naruto didn’t ask more about the supposed mission. He just accepted it, the way he always accepted things at face value when he was younger.
“Right, well…” Naruto stretched his arms out in front of him, a little wince slipping through even though he tried to hide it. “If you’re done with the official stuff, I guess we should eat before the ramen gets soggy.”
He gestured toward the two steaming cups he’d put on the counter earlier. Boruto got up, grabbed them, and set one in front of each of them. They both started eating.
For a while neither of them said anything. The only sounds were slurping, Naruto’s occasional sigh, and the faint noise from outside drifting through the cracked window frame.
The ramen wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. Just simple. Naruto’s style.
When he finished, Naruto shoved his cup aside and let out a loud exhale. “Man… what now?”
Boruto looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what do we do?” Naruto asked, leaning back in his chair. “We ate, you asked your questions, mission talk’s done, and now we’re both just sitting here like lumps.”
Boruto snorted a little. “You’re bored already?”
Naruto made a face. “C’mon, you definitely feel it. It’s too quiet, and I don’t feel like staring at the wall. I just got home from a long mission today, I need to move or I’m gonna crash.”
Boruto paused, chopsticks still in hand.
He didn’t want to stay inside either. Sitting still in Naruto’s apartment made him think too much, about his dad, about the differences, about how young everything looked.
So he said the first reasonable thing he could think of.
“We could go outside.”
Naruto raised an eyebrow, like he hadn’t expected Boruto to be the one suggesting anything. “Outside?”
“Yeah,” Boruto said casually. “You said you can’t sit still. Walking around would fix that.”
Naruto considered it for a second, tapping his fingers on the table.
“…Actually,” he admitted, “that doesn’t sound bad.”
Boruto nodded once. “Then let’s go.”
Naruto stood up, already grabbing his sandals from the corner. “Alright. I know a couple places we can check out. Maybe we’ll run into something interesting.”
Boruto followed him to the door. He still kept his expression calm, like this was just a normal mission thing. Just a normal walk with a shinobi he didn’t know.
Even though, inside, he felt something else.
Naruto opened the door. “Let’s go before I fall asleep standing here.”
Boruto stepped out after him, shutting the door behind them.
They headed off into the village, nothing special planned, nothing fancy.
It was the most normal thing Boruto had done since arriving in the past.
Naruto had his hands in his pocket, he looked almost relaxed, but Boruto saw how tense he still was.
“Ahhhh man, finally! I hate being cooped up,” he said, shaking out his damp hair. “Feels like the whole day’s been one giant mission sandwich.”
Boruto—Makoro, for now, shoved his hands in his pockets and followed a step behind him down the stairs. The sky outside was still bright, but the sun had dropped low enough that everything was painted orange. The village rooftops glowed with warm light, and the shadows looked long and stretched.
Naruto stepped out into the street and immediately started talking.
No pause. No warm-up. Just instant chatter.
“So, Makoro! What do you wanna do? You hungry again? Want to see around the village again? Want to meet people? Want to spar? Actually, no, you don’t look like you wanna spar, your shoulders look all tight. You tense? Did you train too much earlier? Or maybe you don’t stretch enough before missions? You should always stretch, look—”
He bent forward and touched his toes, popping his back loudly.
Boruto blinked at him. “Why are you stretching right now?”
“Because I can,” Naruto answered proudly, standing upright again. “And because it feels awesome.”
Boruto gave a small half-smile. It was weird seeing Naruto like this, so unfiltered, so chatty.
He didn’t sound like Hokage Naruto. He sounded like someone who didn’t have a ton of responsibility crushing him yet. Someone who talked because silence made him itch.
They wandered down the street slowly. Naruto waved at random villagers, gave casual “Yo!” greetings to people who obviously weren’t expecting it, and pointed out food stalls like a walking, talking tour guide.
“Best barbecue ever on that corner,” he said, jabbing a thumb toward a shop that looked too normal to be ‘best ever.’ “And over there, don’t go there. That place will explode your stomach. Not in a fun way.”
Boruto huffed a soft laugh. “Good to know.”
Naruto kept going. Giving a village tour that he already gave before.
“And that alley? Don’t go there after dark unless you wanna be ambushed by like fifteen cats. They don’t play around. I’ve been attacked before. Not my proudest moment.”
“You lost to cats?”
“I didn’t lose. I retreated. Big difference.”
Boruto shook his head, but he couldn’t fight the small grin pulling at his mouth.
As they moved out of the busier part of the street, the light got dimmer. The orange sky was shifting toward red. Naruto kicked a small pebble down the road and walked backwards while talking, because of course he did.
“So, Makoro, you like Konoha so far? It’s nice, right? Not too big, not too small. And the food’s great. And the people are pretty cool if you don’t annoy them. I annoy people sometimes, but that’s because I’m charming.”
Boruto raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re charming?”
Naruto puffed his chest out. “Obviously.”
Boruto didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself not to say something too real.
Naruto squinted at him. “You’re kinda tough to read, y’know?”
“I get that a lot.”
“Bet you’re one of those ‘mysterious loner’ types,” Naruto said with air quotes. “But I’ll break through that! Trust me! People always open up around me eventually.”
Boruto tried not to laugh, but his father was telling the truth. People felt more relaxed around Naruto.
“But anyway,” Naruto continued, waving his hand dismissively, “we can just wander around if you want. No plan, no pressure, no—”
Naruto stopped walking mid-sentence.
He tilted his head slightly. His expression changed—not serious, not suspicious, just suddenly full of excitement. The kind that came from an idea exploding inside his head at full speed.
Boruto recognized that face from stories. And from growing up with the older Naruto.
“Oh no,” Boruto muttered. “What did you think of?”
Naruto snapped his fingers. “I know exactly where we should go.”
Boruto narrowed his eyes. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous.”
“I feel like I shouldn’t trust you.”
Naruto laughed loudly and pointed dramatically toward the direction of the woods. “Come on! It’s not far.”
“What isn’t far?”
“THE place.”
Boruto stared flatly. “That tells me nothing.”
Naruto hopped forward like an impatient kid. “There’s this spot deeper in the forest where the sunset hits perfectly between two rocks. It looks insane this time of year. Like, crazy good. You have to see it at least once.”
“You go there a lot?”
“Whenever I can,” Naruto answered, bouncing on his feet. “Especially in the summer. I dunno, the light’s just better then. Gets warm and bright and kinda cool.”
Boruto blinked. Naruto cared about sunsets? He didn’t know why that surprised him.
“Is it far?” Boruto asked.
“Not too far,” Naruto said, already crouching down a little as if preparing to jump. “We just have to cut through the houses on this side, hit the edge of the forest, and jump through the trees for a bit.”
“Jump through the trees?”
“Yeah! You don’t tree-hop?”
Boruto shrugged casually. “I can.”
“Then what are we waiting for?!” Naruto leapt up, landing neatly on the nearest single-story roof. “Come on!”
Boruto followed, landing beside him. Naruto grinned like he’d just been handed a mission he actually liked.
“Race you?” Naruto teased.
“No.”
“That sounded like a yes.”
“It wasn’t.”
Naruto didn’t listen. He darted across the roof line, jumping from one building to another with easy, practiced movements. Boruto kept up, but Naruto wasn’t running in a straight line, oh no. Naruto zig-zagged, leaped over chimneys, swung around water tanks, and even did a weird spin at one point for no reason other than dramatic flair.
Boruto kept pace without trouble, but Naruto kept glancing back to check if he was still there.
“You’re pretty fast, Makoro!” Naruto shouted over the wind. “Not as fast as me, obviously, but you know, pretty good!”
Boruto rolled his eyes. “I’m keeping up fine.”
“That’s what ‘pretty good’ means!”
“You added the ‘not as fast as me’ part.”
“Because it’s true!”
Boruto snorted.
They reached the last building before the treeline. Naruto skidded to a stop, hair blowing in the wind, sweatpants rustling lightly. The sun sat low enough now that the tops of the trees glowed warm and gold.
Naruto turned around with the biggest smile. “Ready?”
Boruto shrugged. “If you are.”
“Oh, I’m always ready.”
Then Naruto bolted forward, jumping down into the grass and darting straight for the trees. Boruto followed, landing beside him.
The forest swallowed them quickly, the light dimming but still warm. Naruto jumped up again, grabbing a thick branch and flipping onto it with ease. Boruto took a different route, jumping to a higher branch.
They both started moving.
Naruto talked the entire time.
“It’s usually quiet around here at this hour,” he said, hopping to a branch on the right. “Most people don’t come this deep unless they’re training or picking herbs or something boring.”
Boruto landed lightly next to him. “So how’d you find this place?”
“Oh, I got lost once when I was little.” Naruto said proudly.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah! I wandered around for like two hours. But then the sun started shining through the trees all weird and bright, and I found it by accident. Best mistake ever.”
Boruto shook his head. “Only you would find a scenic spot because you got lost.”
“Hey! Getting lost is an art.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You mean impressive.”
“No.”
Naruto laughed so loud it scared a bird out of a nearby tree.
Boruto felt something warm at the edge of his chest.
Not sadness. Just something like: This is exactly what Dad is still acting like, isn’t it?
He shook the thought away before it could sit too long.
They kept jumping, Naruto moving forward with natural ease, Boruto close behind. He watched Naruto from a few steps back. The sweatpants and t-shirt looked comfortable but worn. The bandages beneath the sleeves were noticeable, but Naruto acted completely normal. Like they weren’t there. Like nothing hurt.
Like nothing was wrong.
“Almost there,” Naruto called back, brushing a branch out of his way. “The air gets cooler near the spot, you’ll feel it.”
Boruto didn’t answer. He was too busy watching the way Naruto moved. Light. Fast. Tired around the eyes even though he smiled constantly.
But still undeniably strong.
The Naruto he grew up with didn’t look like this. The older Naruto was broader, healthier, more stable, but weighed down.
This Naruto looked like he could float away if the wind got strong enough.
“Hey, Makoro!” Naruto shouted back suddenly.
Boruto blinked. “What?”
“You better be ready! This place is AWESOME.”
Boruto shook his head, but a small smile tugged at his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “We’ll see.”
“You’ll love it!”
“Doubt it.”
“You’ll say ‘Naruto, you were right!’”
“Not happening.”
Naruto just laughed again and kept going, weaving between branches, leading the way deeper into the forest toward whatever spot he’d decided was “the best ever.”
The sun kept sinking behind them. The colors kept getting warmer.
The clearing stretched out before them, wide and sun-drenched. The grass swayed lazily in the late afternoon breeze, rustling softly against Boruto’s legs as he followed Naruto across roots and moss-covered stones. Large rocks were scattered through the field, sun-warmed and inviting as natural seats. A faint smell of grass and earth lingered in the air, softened by the warm, golden light of the lowering sun.
Naruto was practically vibrating with energy, bouncing from one rock to another with loud, exaggerated steps. “Makoro, you’re gonna love this spot! Seriously! Check this out!” he called over his shoulder. His grin was wide, teeth flashing, and his eyes practically sparkled with excitement.
Boruto followed, careful to keep up. He was still processing everything, the smell of grass, the peacefulness of the clearing, and the fact that he was here with his father, who seemed so alive in this moment.
From the largest rock at the edge of the clearing, smoke curled lazily into the air. Boruto squinted.
Shikamaru.
He was lounging with his back against the rock, one knee drawn up, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised to see them, instead, he gave the faintest sigh and shook his head slightly, the classic ‘what a drag’ expression Boruto had come to recognize.
Naruto leapt onto the rock next to him, still laughing, arms flung wide as if presenting the entire clearing like a stage. “Hey, Shikamaru! Didn’t expect to see you out here!”
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, a thin stream of smoke drifting upward. “You’re the one who showed me this place first. I figured you’d wander back eventually. Didn’t expect company, though.”
Boruto carefully sat down next to Naruto, brushing a few stray leaves from his sleeves. “Hey,” he said quietly,
Shikamaru gave him a glance, recognizing him immediately, before letting his eyes drift back to Naruto. Boruto noticed the glance linger slightly longer on Naruto’s bandaged arms, visible under the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. There was a momentary stiffening, a subtle shift that suggested Shikamaru was more than just observing.
Naruto met his gaze, and for a few seconds, the two held eye contact. Neither spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung between them, a quiet acknowledgment of something Boruto couldn’t understand.
Finally, Shikamaru reached into his vest and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one free and holding it out toward Naruto. In his other hand, he extended a lighter. No words, just the quiet expectation that Naruto would take it.
Naruto’s eyes lit up with a grin, like he’d been waiting for exactly this moment. He took the cigarette, clipped it between his lips, and clicked the lighter. The flame flickered against his fingers, illuminating the grin on his face. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling in a long, relaxed stream.
Boruto froze.
Dad smokes? Dad SMOKES?
He didn’t know how to process it. The Naruto he knew, the adult, official Hokage, would never even consider it. And yet here he was, completely at ease, leaning back slightly on the rock as smoke drifted around him.
Naruto laughed, loud and carefree. “Ahh! You know, Makoro, you should try this sometime. Makes everything feel, I dunno… epic. Like, really epic!”
Shikamaru exhaled, ash flicking from his cigarette. “You skipped your reevaluation after the mission again.” he said flatly, the usual edge of irritation in his voice.
Naruto groaned dramatically and slapped the rock with the back of his hand. “Ah, come on! Who even wants to sit in a room being poked at and questioned about your sleep anyway? I’m fine, trust me!”
“You weren’t fine yesterday,” Shikamaru said, straight-faced. “And if you skip it tomorrow, Tsunade and Sakura are going to have your head.”
Naruto tilted his head back, letting out a theatrical sigh, then laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know! I’ll deal with it eventually. Maybe. Probably.”
Boruto watched, fascinated by the dynamic. Shikamaru was annoyed, yes, but Boruto could see the subtle care beneath it. The way Shikamaru kept glancing at the bandages told him that, even under the lazy, irritated exterior, Shikamaru was paying attention.
Naruto leaned forward, grinning widely, and took another puff. “You know what else, Makoro? The squirrels here are hilarious. They’re like… tiny ninjas themselves. I swear, one of them just stole my lunch once. And I’ve been chasing it around for twenty minutes, trying to get it back. I’m telling you, those little guys are more cunning than some ninja kids I’ve met!”
Boruto blinked, a small laugh escaping. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely! And yesterday I saw a frog… no, wait, a toad, jumping across the stream. Big guy, huge, croaking like it owned the place. I tried to ride it, but nope. It was having none of that. I’ve got to be faster than even a toad to keep up sometimes.” Naruto chuckled loudly, almost snorting, and his arms waved dramatically, smoke curling around his fingers.
Shikamaru rubbed his forehead. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though Boruto caught the faint edge of amusement in his voice. “Completely ridiculous.”
Naruto threw a grin at him. “Exactly! That’s why you love hanging out with me, Shikamaru. Admit it!”
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, ash flicking off his cigarette. “Don’t push your luck.”
Boruto, still watching, found himself laughing too. The way Naruto talked, so animatedly and loudly, and the way Shikamaru responded with irritation that barely masked concern, was nice. And Boruto felt a little warmth in his chest seeing his father like this, even if it was surprising.
Naruto leaned back again, stretching out and letting the smoke drift lazily. “Makoro, I’m telling you, one day I’m going to be the best Hokage ever. Fastest, strongest, smartest! Everyone will rely on me, and I’ll never let anyone down!!”
Boruto nodded, smiling faintly. He didn’t have the words to respond yet, but he felt the excitement in Naruto’s voice, the certainty, the boundless energy that made him who he was. He already knew that Naruto was gonna become hokage. That he was gonna become the strongest ninja ever.
Shikamaru’s eyes flicked to Naruto’s bandages again, lingering for a moment. Naruto met his gaze steadily. Silence stretched for a few seconds, thick with understanding, unspoken and heavy. Boruto sensed the weight of it but couldn’t quite grasp it. He only knew that the moment felt important, and that he was witnessing something private between his father and his old friend.
Naruto leaned forward, pretending to hold a dramatic council with Boruto. “I swear I’m gonna become the best ninja ever. I’ll be so strong that even Shikamaru will be asking me to save him.”
Shikamaru pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “You’re impossible.”
Naruto laughed, throwing an arm around Boruto’s shoulders. “Yeah! That’s what makes life fun, right? Can’t be serious all the time, Makoro. Look at the sky, look at the grass, look at the sunset! Life’s too short to sit around being bored!”
Boruto laughed along, the tension of the day melting slightly. He noticed the way the smoke spiraled around Naruto’s fingers, the casual tilt of his shoulders, the way he laughed without care. It was different from the adult Hokage he knew, lighter, more alive, full of joy even when his body was clearly tired and bandaged.
Naruto flicked ash, exhaled, and leaned back on the stone.
Boruto smiled faintly, feeling a strange mix of happiness and disbelief. He didn’t say anything, but he leaned into the joke, letting himself feel part of the moment.
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, flicking ash from his cigarette. “You’re still reckless. Don’t forget that,” he muttered, the faintest edge of warning in his voice. “And seriously… if you skip your reevaluation tomorrow, Tsunade and Sakura are going to be pissed.”
Naruto laughed, loud and carefree. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t worry, Shikamaru. I’ll survive.”
Boruto shifted slightly, quietly taking it all in. The laughter, the smoke, the sunset, the warmth of the rocks beneath them, the energy and joy radiating from his father, it was almost overwhelming. But he also felt ncluded. A part of this bizarre, chaotic, and loud moment that was so clearly his father’s world.
Naruto blew out another stream of smoke, grinned at Boruto, and waved his hands toward the horizon. “See that? That’s a perfect sunset, Makoro. And you know what? This is just the start. One day, when I’m Hokage, I’ll still have moments like this. And maybe, you’ll be sitting here with me too, laughing at my ridiculous stories.”
Boruto didn’t reply verbally, but his grin said everything. And for the first time, he felt like he was truly seeing his father, not the adult Hokage, not the statue in the village, but the real, alive, noisy, laughable, ridiculous Naruto Uzumaki.
The three of them sat on the rocks, smoke curling through the golden light, the faint shadows of bandages on Naruto’s arms catching the sun. Boruto watched, silent but smiling, letting the warmth of the moment sink in as the sky bled from gold to deep orange.
It was already 11pm and they said their goodbyes to Shikamaru. Naruto lead Boruto to his apartment and went inside.
Naruto stretched his arms overhead, letting out a loud, satisfied yawn. “Makoro,” he said, glancing at Boruto with a grin, “it’s getting late. You want to stay the night here?”
Boruto hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Sure,” he said softly.
Naruto’s grin widened, and he clapped his hands together. “Alright! Good. You can stay. Makes things easier anyway. Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”
Boruto followed quietly as Naruto led the way to his bedroom. The small apartment was quiet now, the dim glow from the streetlights outside casting golden streaks across the floor. Boruto’s footsteps were light on the wooden floorboards, though his mind was already shifting to the evening’s earlier events and the small, quiet unease he felt in the apartment tonight.
As soon as they stepped inside the bedroom, Boruto’s eyes went to the window. A thin crack ran across one corner of the glass, catching the faint light from outside.
“Uh… Naruto?” Boruto said softly, pointing. “The window, it’s cracked.”
Naruto glanced over at it, his usual grin faltering for the briefest instant. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Ah… yeah. Happens sometimes,” he said casually. “Some stupid villagers probably threw something at it. Nothing serious. Don’t worry about it.”
Boruto’s gaze drifted downward, to the bandages peeking from under Naruto’s pajama sleeves. His stomach twisted slightly as a thought crept into his mind. Could these really all be from missions? Or… had Naruto done this to himself, maybe because of his reputation at the time? Boruto shook the thought away almost immediately, not wanting to dwell on it for long. He didn’t want to ruin the calm of the apartment, the rare quiet moment he had with his father.
Naruto moved toward the small closet and opened it, rifling through the shelves for a moment. He pulled out a folded blanket and shook it lightly before laying it on the floor. He added a pillow and then another blanket on top, arranging them neatly for Boruto.
“Here,” Naruto said, stepping back. “You can sleep here tonight. It’s comfy.” He gestured to the neatly prepared floor spot, leaving it simple and straightforward.
Boruto nodded quietly, appreciating the gesture. He didn’t speak, only glanced briefly at the blankets and pillow. The space looked comfortable, warm, and safe, which was all he needed.
Naruto stepped back and began changing into his pajamas. He pulled off the grey sweatpants and black T-shirt he had been wearing earlier, tossing them aside carelessly onto a chair. He put on a loose shirt and shorts as pajamas. The bandages covering his arms were still faintly visible under the fabric, but Boruto didn’t comment. He only observed quietly, letting himself be absorbed by the routine, by the calm of the evening.
When Naruto returned, he held out a folded set of pajamas for Boruto. “Here,” he said simply. “Put these on.”
Boruto took them and nodded softly. “Thanks.”
He changed quickly, folding his clothes neatly and placing them aside. Then he moved to the blankets Naruto had set up and climbed onto the floor, pulling the covers around himself. The pillow felt soft under his head, and though the floor was firm, the blanket and pillow made it feel comfortable enough to relax.
Naruto, meanwhile, had settled on his own bed. He lay back casually, stretching his arms across the mattress and letting out a quiet sigh. His posture was relaxed, though the faint tension from the cracked window lingered behind the corners of his eyes. Boruto noticed the subtle shift in Naruto’s expression when he glanced toward it briefly, but he didn’t comment. He only thought of the possible reasons, the villagers, the resentment, the pressure of being a jinchūriki, but he pushed it away again, unwilling to dwell on it for too long.
After a few moments of quiet, Naruto spoke, his voice gentle but casual. “Alright, Makoro. You’re set up. Sleep wherever you like. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Boruto nodded again, his eyes already half-closed. He felt the warmth of the blankets around him and the quiet presence of Naruto in the room. The soft light from the streetlights filtered through the cracked window, illuminating the floor just enough to create a sense of security.
Naruto shifted slightly on his bed, adjusting his own blanket and pillow. He glanced over at Boruto once, a small smile on his face. “Good night,” he said softly.
Boruto mumbled back, “Night.”
He curled slightly under the blanket, pulling it closer around his shoulders. The exhaustion from the long day, the walking through the village, the evening with Shikamaru, the ramen earlier, hit him all at once. His eyes finally closed, and he let himself sink into sleep.
Naruto remained awake for a few more moments, watching Boruto settle in. His chest rose and fell steadily, the small sound of quiet breathing filling the room. He felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and concern, satisfaction that Boruto seemed comfortable, but concern lingering faintly from the day’s events and the faint trace of the cracked window.
After a few minutes, Naruto shifted again, settling back on his bed with a quiet exhale. The room was peaceful, the apartment enveloped in the soft glow of the city lights outside. Boruto’s breathing became steady, slow, and rhythmic. The faint tension of the evening, the cracked window, the bandages, faded into the background, leaving only the warmth and calm of being in a safe place.
For the first time in a long while, Boruto felt a small measure of peace. He was here, with Naruto, in the quiet apartment, on a soft blanket and pillow. The comfort of the space and the simple presence of his father made everything else seem distant and unimportant.
Naruto lay back fully, closing his eyes but keeping one ear attuned to Boruto’s breathing. The quiet moments stretched, a calm blanket over the apartment, and eventually, Boruto’s soft, even breathing confirmed that he had drifted into sleep.
Naruto exhaled slowly, allowing himself to relax as well. The evening had been long, and the quiet of the apartment finally gave him a chance to let his mind rest, even if just slightly. The faint crack in the window and the subtle weight of the bandages on his arms lingered in the back of his mind, but for tonight, there was only the calm, the blankets, and the quiet rhythm of sleep filling the room.
Boruto lay on the floor, the soft pillow beneath his head, the blanket wrapped snugly around him. He was tired beyond measure, and sleep quickly took him, pulling him into the deep rest he had been craving all day. Naruto watched him for a moment longer, then finally allowed himself to settle fully onto his own bed, closing his eyes.
The night in Konoha was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that felt gentler than silence. Soft lanternlight flickered along the streets below, giving the village a warm, sleepy glow. On the upper floor of a small apartment, Naruto stood out on his balcony, elbows resting on the cool railing. The window behind him was open wide, letting the breeze drift through the room.
Inside, Boruto slept soundly on the floor. One small hand poked out from beneath the blanket, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Naruto checked on him every few minutes, always making sure the wind wasn’t too strong, that the blanket hadn’t slipped away.
Then he stepped back outside. The night air helped him think. Or at least helped him feel like he could breathe again.
He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply.
That was when he felt it.
A chakra signature he knew better than nearly anyone else’s, a calm, steady, cool and familiar like the shadow of a tree he’d rested under a thousand times. Naruto didn’t even need to turn.
His face brightened instantly.
“Kakashi-sensei!” he said quietly, but with a warm, relieved smile.
Kakashi landed on the balcony rail with casual balance, then stepped down beside Naruto. His posture was relaxed, but his eye had that small crescent shape, his version of a smile.
“Long day?” Kakashi asked, voice light.
Naruto nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pretty long. But… I’m glad you came.”
And he meant it. After the kind of day he’d had, just seeing his teacher’s silhouette in the dark made something heavy inside him loosen.
Kakashi leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. They stood together in the soft breeze for a while, sharing the quiet. Naruto always liked that Kakashi didn’t rush conversations. He wasn’t like others who felt the need to fill silence with noise.
Kakashi spoke only when it mattered.
“You have your reevaluation tomorrow,” Kakashi said eventually, his tone shifting into something more serious.
Naruto’s head dropped instantly. “I don’t wanna go.”
“You need to,” Kakashi replied.
“Noooo,” Naruto groaned dramatically, leaning so far over the railing he nearly folded in half. “It’s annoying. All they do is ask the same stuff. And stare at me like I’m… I don’t know. Something broken they’re trying to patch up.”
“They’re trying to check up on you after a mission” Kakashi corrected. “And make sure you’re alright.”
“That’s worse!”
Kakashi let out a soft exhale that might have been a laugh. “Tsunade will drag you there herself if you skip again.”
Naruto shivered at the thought. “She would.”
“She definitely would,” Kakashi agreed.
Naruto slumped into a defeated sigh. “Well… yeah. Okay. Fine. But I still don’t want to go.”
“I know,” Kakashi said gently. “But you’re going.”
Naruto grumbled under his breath, muttering about ‘old people and their weird rules.’ Kakashi wisely ignored it.
“And another thing,” Kakashi added, shifting gears.
Naruto frowned. “What now?”
“You need to eat better.”
Naruto groaned loudly. “Oh my god, why is everyone on me about that?!”
Kakashi didn’t blink. “Because you aren’t doing it.”
“I eat!”
“You eat instant ramen.”
“That counts!”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Naruto threw his hands up. “I swear you guys are worse than grandparents.”
“You’re underweight,” Kakashi said simply. “And you push your body harder than most jonin. You need real food.”
Naruto crossed his arms and looked away. “Yeah, yeah…”
“And you skipped lunch. By the way, ramen doesn’t count.”
Naruto’s jaw dropped. “You’re keeping track?! Sensei, that’s creepy!”
“It’s not creepy. It’s concern.”
“Well stop!”
“No.”
Naruto huffed dramatically, but it didn’t change anything. Kakashi was immovable when it mattered.
Then Kakashi straightened slightly.
His posture didn’t change much, but the air did.
Naruto felt it instantly.
“And the other thing,” Kakashi said.
Naruto froze.
His fingers curled around the balcony railing, grip tightening unconsciously.
Kakashi didn’t dance around it or soften his tone.
“You need to stop cutting yourself.”
The world seemed to still around them.
Naruto’s breath caught. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just quietly, like something inside him pulled tight and locked.
Kakashi looked at him directly, not with anger, not even with disappointment. Just steady, unwavering concern.
“You know it’s serious,” Kakashi said. “Even if you try to pretend it isn’t.”
Naruto swallowed. His voice came out low. “…It heals.”
“Yes,” Kakashi said. “But that’s not the point.”
“It heals by morning,” Naruto insisted. “Because of the Nine-Tails. It’s not important.”
“It is,” Kakashi repeated, firmer.
Naruto looked away, jaw clenching.
He didn’t want this conversation. He didn’t want the look in Kakashi’s eye. He didn’t want to feel seen.
Kakashi didn’t push forward physically, but his presence felt closer, warmer, grounding.
“Shikamaru is worried,” Kakashi said. “And Tsunade is too.”
Naruto closed his eyes.
He wished they didn’t know.
He wished no one did.
Shimakaru knew because Kakashi had told him personally.
He had just been leaving a meeting when Kakashi called him aside. He remembered the way Shikamaru’s eyebrows rose just slightly when he realized Kakashi wasn’t joking or exaggerating.
Shikamaru’s reaction wasn’t loud, he wasn’t the type.
But the impact was obvious.
His expression shifted into something sharp and controlled, like someone solving a puzzle they desperately wished didn’t exist. His jaw tightened, his hands slipped into his pockets, and he looked at the ground for a long moment before asking in a low voice.
“…He’s doing that?”
Kakashi nodded once.
Shikamaru didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just breathed out slowly like the air had suddenly gotten heavier around him. There was worry there, deep and quiet, threaded with frustration, mostly at himself for not noticing sooner.
“He hides it well,” Kakashi had said gently.
“Yeah,” Shikamaru had murmured, brow furrowing. “But I should’ve caught it.”
From that day on, Shikamaru never hovered, never lectured, but Naruto could feel the way Shikamaru watched him more carefully. The way he started asking if Naruto had eaten. The way he made sure Naruto had someone to walk home with. The way he checked on him with casual excuses that weren’t actually excuses.
He cared. Deeply. And Naruto knew it.
Sometimes that hurt more than anything.
Tsunade discovered it by accident, during a routine healing session after a mission injury. Her medical chakra had swept over Naruto’s skin…and stopped.
Naruto remembered her hands a fraction of a second, barely noticeable to anyone else, but impossible to hide from him. Her eyes narrowed, not with anger, with concern sharpened into something like fear.
She didn’t question him. Didn’t demand explanations. She just worked silently, her movements gentler than usual, her breath just a little tighter.
After she finished healing him, she rested a hand briefly on his shoulder steadily. It was her silent way of saying: I’m here. Even if you don’t want me to be.
Naruto had avoided her eyes.
He hated pity.
But what Tsunade felt wasn’t pity, it was worry. A deep, maternal kind that Naruto wasn’t used to receiving. She didn’t bring it up again, but Naruto could feel the shift in her aura whenever she checked on him after that.
She knew. And she cared. Probably too much.
Naruto didn’t know what to do with that.
Technically, Jiraiya knew too. He was the first to find out.
The night was quiet, the fire crackling softly as Jiraiya sat beside Naruto in their small camp. Naruto had his sleeves slightly rolled down, but Jiraiya noticed the faint scratches along his forearms. He didn’t comment immediately, letting Naruto fidget nervously.
“You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard, huh?” Jiraiya said casually, eyes scanning Naruto.
Naruto laughed nervously. “Ah, just training stuff, nothing to worry about.”
Jiraiya tilted his head, unimpressed. “Training, huh? You’ve got scratches that don’t look like normal scrapes, Naruto. And… what’s with these?” He gestured subtly toward Naruto’s arms.
Naruto froze, trying to hide them. “It’s… it’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s not fine,” Jiraiya said, voice firmer now. “I can tell you’ve been hurting yourself. Why, Naruto?”
Naruto looked down, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I don’t know. It just helps sometimes. Please don’t tell anyone!”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, yet,” Jiraiya replied calmly, keeping his tone steady. “But you can’t keep doing this alone, Naruto. I’ve noticed the way you flinch, the restless energy, the way you hide your arms, it’s not just normal training scrapes. This is serious.”
Naruto swallowed hard. “I heal fast, pervy sage. It’s not a big deal. Please, just don’t tell anyone. I can handle it.”
“You think it’s about healing fast, but it’s not, Naruto,” Jiraiya said quietly but firmly. “It’s about what it’s doing to your mind. Your body will recover, sure, but the habit, the reason you do it… that doesn’t just disappear.”
Naruto clenched his fists, trying to laugh it off. “I’m fine! I really am. The Nine-Tails heals me anyway, so it’s… it’s nothing!”
Jiraiya’s gaze softened, but he didn’t relent. “You might heal faster than normal, Naruto, but that doesn’t make it okay. I’ve seen enough to know it’s a problem, and you need to stop. You don’t have to tell anyone else if you don’t want to, but I want you to promise me you’ll try to stop hurting yourself. Can you do that?”
Naruto hesitated, then shook his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t want to stop. It’s the only way I can get control sometimes. Just, please, pervy sage, don’t tell anyone.”
Jiraiya leaned back, sighing softly. “Naruto, you know I care about you, right? That’s why I’m asking. I’m not going to go tell anyone immediately, but you have to understand, this isn’t something you should handle alone.”
Naruto looked away, twisting his hands nervously. “I know you’re worried. I just, I can deal with it. Please, I’ll try, okay? But don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll give you that for now,” Jiraiya said, a small sigh escaping him. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If I see this continue, I won’t have a choice. You have to trust me a little.”
Naruto nodded, trying to force a smile. “Yeah, I trust you. I really do. Please, just not now, okay?”
Jiraiya shook his head lightly, though his expression was gentle. “Noted. But you can’t keep running from this. It won’t disappear by itself.”
Naruto swallowed, feeling the weight of Jiraiya’s words, then muttered softly, “I know… I know… just… not yet.”
Right now, his voice was small when he finally spoke.
“It’s not important.”
“It is,” Kakashi said softly. “Because you are.”
Naruto’s throat tightened.
The night breeze brushed against them, cool and steady. Inside the room, Boruto shifted in his sleep, turning onto his side.
Naruto stared at the village lights again, some part of him unraveling a little at the edges.
“I don’t want to go to the reevaluation,” he murmured again, but the irritation was gone now, replaced by something much softer, quieter. “I just don’t.”
Kakashi stepped closer, standing beside him, shoulder almost touching Naruto’s but not quite.
“I know,” Kakashi said. “But you’re going. And you won’t be going alone.”
Naruto glanced at him.
Kakashi’s eye softened.
“I’m with you,” he said simply.
For a long time, Naruto didn’t reply.
But when he finally exhaled, it was shakier than he meant it to be.
“…I’m glad you came tonight,” he whispered. “I needed that.”
Kakashi nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”
The two of them stood in silence again, but it wasn’t heavy this time.
Naruto shifted slightly on the balcony, the night air brushing against the skin of his arms where the bandages had been wrapped. The conversation with Kakashi had left a lingering silence between them, heavy but necessary. He tried to shake off the tension with a laugh, but it came out brittle, more a sound of habit than amusement. “Some of them… didn’t heal,” he admitted, voice low, almost to himself. “Left some scars. I don’t know why. The Nine-Tails usually fixes everything before morning.”
Kakashi’s eye, sharp and unwavering even in the dim light, caught that small tremor in Naruto’s shoulders. He didn’t speak immediately, only waiting, letting the words settle. “Show me,” he said finally, quiet but firm.
Naruto blinked, momentarily taken aback. “What?”
“The bandages. Take them off. I need to see what’s really going on.” Kakashi’s tone left no room for debate, no room for excuses. He had seen enough to know that words could hide a lot, but the truth would always reveal itself in the scars, the cuts, the inconsistencies that Naruto could no longer mask.
A shiver ran down Naruto’s spine, partly from the chill in the air, partly from the weight of the request. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached up to the first bandage, the cloth fraying slightly at the edges. His hands were steady, but his heart thumped faster than usual. He peeled away the first strip, then the next, until the layers came away in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
The cool night wind hit the skin beneath, carrying the faint scent of blood, and Naruto’s chest tightened. The exposed skin was a tapestry of cuts and older scars, faint silver lines that the Nine-Tails had left untouched for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, and newer cuts, some shallow, some deeper, all of them uneven and raw, like they were done in a hurry.
Kakashi leaned slightly closer, not in judgment, but in a careful, measured concern. His visible eye swept over Naruto’s arms, taking in each mark, each scar, each line that told a story Naruto had tried to hide from the world. “Naruto…” Kakashi’s voice was low, deliberate. “This… it’s worse than I thought.”
Naruto swallowed, trying to force a laugh that didn’t come. “It’s nothing!” he tried to laugh it off out of habit, but Kakashi didn’t laugh. “The Nine-Tails, it fixes most of it anyway.”
Kakashi’s eye narrowed slightly. “Most of it,” he repeated, a subtle emphasis on the uncertainty. “But not all of it, as you said. Some of it’s still raw, some of it’s deeper. You can’t keep hiding this behind the idea that it’ll just heal overnight.”
Naruto looked down at the arms that were no longer covered, noticing the way the newer cuts glistened faintly in the moonlight, some still fairly bleeding. Most of them were shallow, tiny lines that had barely broken the surface, but a few ran deeper, angling across his forearm in ways that seemed way too concerning. A couple of scars had hardened into faint lines, reminders of that the Nine-Tails didn’t always fix everything he inflicted upon himself.
“I I don’t know,” Naruto admitted finally, his voice quieter than before. “Usually the Nine-Tails fixes it. But, some of these… didn’t. I don’t get it.”
Kakashi’s gaze didn’t waver. “I get it,” he said softly. “I know you rely on it, but you can’t just ignore the consequences. And these…” He gestured toward the lines, the cuts, the scars that mapped Naruto’s arms. “…they’re more than just consequences. They’re signals, Naruto. Signals that you’re hurting yourself in ways that even the Nine-Tails can’t fully erase.”
Naruto swallowed again, a dry laugh escaping him. “Maybe I don’t feel it the same way you do,” he said, trying to lighten the tension with humor that landed awkwardly. “It’s going to heal by morning anyway, isn’t it? So it’s fine.”
Kakashi shook his head, his single visible eye narrowing in concern. “It’s not fine. And you know it. Shikamaru and Tsunade, they’re worried. And so am I. This isn’t something that’s going to fix itself just because your body can heal quickly.”
Naruto’s hands twitched slightly at his sides, not from discomfort but from the weight of the truth in Kakashi’s words. He had spent years relying on the Nine-Tails to fix everything: cuts, exhaustion, injuries from missions. But even that power had limits, and now he was staring at those limits in the quiet night, with Kakashi watching an unwilling to look away.
“I know you’re worried,” Naruto said quietly, trying to mask the emotion that threatened to surface with a smile. “I’m fine. Really. It’s not important. It’ll heal.”
Kakashi didn’t reply immediately, only observing, his presence calm but unrelenting. “Naruto, this isn’t just about healing,” he said finally, the words carrying the weight of every mission, every night, every time he had seen Naruto push too far. “It’s about stopping before it even starts. Before it goes too far. Before it leaves more permanent marks that even the Nine-Tails can’t fix.”
Naruto’s chest tightened. He knew Kakashi was right. He had known it for a long time. The Nine-Tails could heal physical wounds at a speed that made most injuries meaningless, but it couldn’t touch the emotional scars, the strain on his mind, the deep cuts he inflicted on himself when the world felt too heavy. And those cuts, some of them small, some deeper, were still there, proof that not even he could control everything.
“I know,” he muttered, looking down at his arms, the bandages now gone, leaving the messy cuts exposed in the moonlight. ”I just don’t understand why some of them didn’t heal.”
Kakashi’s gaze softened slightly, but he didn’t let the moment go lightly. “It’s not about understanding. It’s about prevention. You can’t rely on luck or quick healing. You have to stop. You have to care about yourself enough to stop.”
Naruto nodded slowly, the words echoing in his mind. “I… I’ll try,” he said finally, voice low. “But most of them, they’ll heal by morning. So it’s not important, right?”
Kakashi exhaled slowly, the single eye fixed on Naruto’s bare arms. “It is important. It’s always important. Every cut. And you can’t just ignore them. You need to face it, Naruto. You need to stop before it becomes something permanent.”
Naruto’s gaze flicked toward the sleeping form of Boruto inside, curled up safely on the blankets.
“I know,” he repeated quietly. “I’ll try. But, it’s just, it’ll heal. It always does.”
Kakashi’s gaze didn’t waver, and Naruto felt the weight of it pressing down on him. He wanted to argue, wanted to insist that it wasn’t important, that the Nine-Tails would fix it all. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not with Kakashi’s presence grounding him, holding him accountable in a way that no one else had been able to do in years.
The silence stretched, heavy and unspoken. The night wind whispered across the balcony, carrying the faint scent of the village, of the streets below, of a world that went on despite the cutting.
“You need to rest,” Kakashi said finally, the words softer now, carrying the same concern that had driven him all these years. “And you need to stop. Tomorrow, you go to the reevaluation. No excuses. You eat more, you eat better. And you stop cutting yourself. Understand?”
Naruto nodded slowly, the weight of the night pressing on him. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to brush it off. He only nodded, letting Kakashi’s words settle in his mind, mingling with the quiet hum of the village below and the steady rhythm of Boruto’s breathing inside.
“I’ll come by in the morning, then we’ll go to the reevaluation.”
When Kakashi finally stepped off the balcony rail and disappeared into the night, his chakra signature fading into the wind, the silence that followed felt heavier than all his words combined.
Naruto stayed outside for a long moment, hands resting on the cool metal of the railing. The night air should’ve been refreshing, grounding, but instead it just made his skin prickle, the raw sting of exposed wounds reminding him of everything Kakashi had just seen.
Naruto swallowed, throat tight.
He’d laughed, tried to, anyway, when he told Kakashi the ones that didn’t heal just ‘stuck around for no reason.’ Like it was a joke. Like it didn’t matter.
But Kakashi had looked at him like he had seen right through the laugh, through him, and that look was still stuck in his head.
He pushed the window fully open and stepped inside.
The room was dim, lit only by the small lamp he’d left on for Boruto. Naruto closed the window quietly, locking the latch with a soft click. His movements were slow, careful, not because he felt weak, but because he didn’t want to wake Boruto.
Kakashi’s voice kept echoing in his head:
“Naruto… stop doing this to yourself.”
“Shikamaru and Tsunade are worried too.”
He hadn’t wanted to hear that. Not from anyone, and especially not from Kakashi. Because if Kakashi said something was serious, it was serious.
Naruto rubbed the back of his neck and let out a shaky breath.
He didn’t want to be serious.
He didn’t want any of this to be serious.
He moved through the apartment quietly, towards the bathroom, stepping past Boruto’s sleeping figure. He turned on the shower so if he did wake up, Naruto would have an excuse of showering. He opened the drawer beneath the sink in the bathroom. The mirror above him reflected a tired face, whisker marks standing out against pale skin.
His hand hesitated only for a second before he reached in and closed his fingers around the kunai.
It fit into his palm like something familiar, something easy. Something that didn’t ask questions or look at him with disappointment.
Naruto exhaled slowly through his nose. His pulse ticked at the edge of his hearing.
He thought, just for a second, that maybe, maybe it wouldn’t hurt just this once.
Just once more.
And then stop. For real.
He’d stop.
He always told himself that.
Naruto shut the bathroom door quietly, leaning back against it. His hand tightened around the kunai’s handle. Not enough to break the skin, just enough to feel the edges press into his palm.
“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, forcing a small laugh that came out sounding wrong.
The laugh faded quickly.
In the silence, his thoughts grew louder.
He pictured Kakashi’s face.
He didn’t want that look.
He didn’t want Shikamaru’s quiet frustration, that disappointed sigh he tried to hide behind strategy and paperwork.
He didn’t want Tsunade’s clenched jaw as she healed him, pretending she didn’t see the marks but clearly seeing every single one.
He didn’t want them thinking he was weak.
He pressed the blade against his arm.
“Tch… you’re such an idiot, Naruto,” he whispered under his breath.
After a long moment, he swiped with the kunai and made the cut. It wasn’t particularly deep, but still stung a little. He took a deep breath, and at the same time, made a deeper one, then again, and again, and again.
He decided to bandage up his arms again.
Naruto braced his hands on the sink and looked up.
His reflection stared back, eyes shadowed, skin pale, bandages wrapped clumsily over too much of his arms. There was no running from it. No jokes or laughter that made it disappear.
Naruto touched the bandages lightly, fingers brushing over them as if feeling through the layers. The tingling throb beneath the fabric pulsed with his heartbeat.
Kakashi had seen too much. Too much to pretend anymore.
Naruto exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes.
“I’ll… stop,” he said quietly, to the empty bathroom. It didn’t matter if the bathroom believed him. It mattered that he said it. “I’ll stop. I mean it this time.”
He didn’t know if he actually did. He didn’t know if he could.
Naruto opened the drawer and tucked the kunai inside, far in the back. Then he shut it firmly.
He stood there for a moment, breathing slowly, grounding himself the way Jiraiya had taught him years and years ago. His heartbeat steadied.
Finally, he stepped out of the bathroom and quietly walked back toward the bedroom. Boruto was still sleeping peacefully, small hand curled near his face.
Boruto lay frozen under the thin blanket on the floor. He hadn’t intended to stay awake, really, the day had been long, filled with walking around the village, seeing the familiar sights he hadn’t known he’d missed until now, and watching Naruto talk, laugh, and even argue with people in his usual noisy, energetic way. He had been tired, eyes heavy, and when Naruto had suggested they sleep, he had obeyed without complaint. But now, the open window above the balcony allowed more than just the night air in, it allowed movement, sound, and a presence that made Boruto’s stomach twist into knots.
He thought he heard Kakashi before he saw him, a familiar pulse of chakra brushing past his awareness, subtle but undeniable. Boruto froze, muscles tightening. He didn’t move. His face pressed against the pillow, pretending to be asleep, but his mind was fully alert, aware of every sound, every shift of movement on the balcony.
At first, he thought Naruto might be speaking to himself. But then came the faint, even tone of Kakashi’s voice, firm and low, carrying a weight Boruto hadn’t expected. Boruto’s stomach tightened. Something was serious, not about missions, not about training, but personal. Somehow, even from this distance, he could tell that this was important.
Naruto answered, cheerful at first, making that familiar joking tone Boruto recognized as the armor his father always wore. But even in that voice, Boruto could sense the underlying tension, the effort it took for Naruto to keep smiling, keep talking. Then came Kakashi’s response, calm but insistent, like a hand on his shoulder he couldn’t ignore. Boruto didn’t catch all the words, but certain phrases pierced through, crisp and heavy in the night air. ‘reevaluation,’ ‘eat more,’ ‘stop cutting yourself.’
Boruto’s chest constricted sharply. He felt a tight, painful knot in his stomach, like someone had grabbed hold of it and refused to let go.
Stop cutting himself.
The words repeated themselves in his head, echoing off every corner of his thoughts. He had heard rumors, of course. He knew that Naruto’s life had never been easy, that the villagers treated him with suspicion and even fear. But hearing it, knowing it, it was different. It wasn’t just a story. It was his father.
Boruto’s hands tightened around the blanket as he pressed his face further into the pillow. He tried to slow his breathing, to pretend he was asleep, but he couldn’t. He could hear every bit of the conversation, Naruto trying to laugh it off, brushing the comments aside, and Kakashi’s unyielding, quiet concern. Boruto wanted to reach out, to say something, to do anything, but the fear that he might startle Naruto or make things worse kept him pinned in place.
He could feel the rhythm of Kakashi’s chakra moving across the balcony, deliberate and precise, almost like a presence he could cling to for reassurance. He knew, even without hearing, that Kakashi wasn’t angry in the usual way. He was worried, the way someone who cared deeply about you could be, but still firm enough to make sure the message was clear.
Naruto’s voice tried to stay light, joking even. Boruto caught the way he chuckled nervously, the forced brightness in his tone that never quite hid the weight beneath. Kakashi didn’t answer with humor. His words remained steady, measured, serious. Boruto’s stomach twisted again at the stark contrast. He could feel the tension in Naruto, the push and pull between wanting to laugh and wanting to hide, and he wanted, desperately, to do something to ease it.
Fifteen minutes passed. Fifteen minutes that seemed both unbearably long and impossibly short. Boruto’s ears strained for every noise, the soft scrape of movement, the faint clatter of something being set down, the subtle changes in Naruto’s breathing. And then came the sound of a door opening, the faint rush of water, the unmistakable echo of footsteps in the bathroom.
Boruto’s stomach sank lower. Every sound painted a picture he didn’t want to imagine but couldn’t avoid. The minutes stretched. He heard the water running, heard Naruto shift, the scrape of skin against metal, the rustle of bandages or clothing. He couldn’t bring himself to look, but he could imagine it perfectly. Every scrape, every cut, every motion made his chest tighten further.
Boruto tried to will himself to sleep, tried to tell himself it was just a bad dream, that none of this was real. But the reality pressed against him, heavy and suffocating. He thought about the words Kakashi had spoken, the concern in his tone, and his chest ached with helplessness. He wanted to ask questions, to scream, to demand answers, but he stayed still. He stayed quiet.
And still, Naruto didn’t return immediately. The water continued to run. The sounds of movement persisted. Boruto felt time stretch, every second dragging as he imagined what his father might be doing, why the cuts hadn’t healed entirely, why Kakashi’s concern had been so urgent. He felt guilt for spying, even unintentionally. He wanted to retreat, hide, pretend he hadn’t heard, but he couldn’t take back the awareness, the knowledge of what his father had been enduring alone.
Eventually, the water stopped. The door clicked softly. Footsteps padded back toward the bedroom. A quiet sigh, a subtle rustle of clothing, the mattress settling as Naruto finally lay down. Boruto could hear the deep inhale and exhale as his father adjusted himself, the subtle sound of blankets shifting.
Boruto’s heartbeat finally began to slow, but he didn’t move. He stayed pressed against the pillow, staring at the ceiling in the dim moonlight filtering through the window. His mind raced, circling around what he had heard and felt, the cuts, the scars, Kakashi’s concern, Naruto’s attempt at laughter, the brief weight of sadness in his father’s voice.
Boruto’s hands unconsciously gripped the blanket tighter, and a knot of helplessness lodged itself in his chest. He knew he couldn’t reach out, that he couldn’t change the past or erase what he had heard. All he could do was lie there, pretending to be asleep, and process the storm of emotions churning inside him. Relief that his father was safe for now mingled with unease and worry
Minutes passed, and exhaustion began to claim him. Slowly, his eyelids drifted down, heavy and reluctant, carrying with them the weight of the night’s revelations. Even as sleep claimed him, Boruto’s chest felt weighted with awareness, the kind of understanding that no child should have to carry alone.
Boruto, curled up under the blanket, finally allowed himself to drift fully into sleep, but even then, his mind didn’t entirely rest. Images, sounds, and feelings from the night lingered, a quiet, persistent reminder of the father he loved, and the hidden struggles he was only beginning to understand.
The reevaluation had taken longer than anyone expected, mostly because Naruto kept trying, loudly, to convince the medic-nin that he was ‘perfectly fine’ and ‘already healed’ and that ‘Kakashi-sensei dragged him there against his will.’ Kakashi pretended not to hear any of it, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with an unreadable gaze.
Boruto waited quietly in the corner the entire time, listening to Naruto’s exaggerated complaints echo through the hallway. It was strange, he had always known his dad was loud, dramatic, stubborn, but seeing him like this, younger, more chaotic, more free than the version Boruto grew up with, it hit differently. Almost painfully.
When Naruto finally stepped out of the exam room, Kakashi grabbed him by the back of his jacket mid-escape attempt.
“You’re not running anywhere,” Kakashi said, voice dry. “We have follow-up instructions.”
Naruto groaned loudly. Boruto snorted under his breath.
By the time they walked out of the hospital, the sun was already starting to dip toward afternoon. Naruto stretched both arms over his head, dramatically grateful to be free. Kakashi kept a watchful eye on him, as usual.
But then Boruto turned toward the village gates, and Naruto’s expression shifted.
“Oh, right,” he said, blinking as it hit him. “Your mission’s over, isn’t it?”
Boruto nodded. “Yeah. I have to head back.”
Naruto’s face softened instantly, all irritation vanishing. “Well… then I guess I gotta walk you to the gate, at least.”
Kakashi raised a brow. “You’re not supposed to run anywhere else.”
Naruto ignored him and marched ahead anyway.
The three of them stopped beneath the tall wooden entrance. The wind was gentler here, carrying the smell of trees and the distant echo of shinobi training. Travelers passed by on the road, and two chunin guards were chatting off to the side.
Boruto adjusted the strap of his bag, forcing his expression to stay calm.
He hadn’t expected it to feel this heavy.
Naruto didn’t seem to notice the tension. He placed both hands behind his head, grinning wide, the same grin Boruto knew so well, just a little more reckless, a little more sunlit.
“Well, Makoro,” Naruto said, using the fake name Boruto had chosen, “thanks for hanging out with me. I hope you had at least a little bit of fun!”
Boruto nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, I did.”
Naruto laughed, bright and carefree. “If you ever get assigned near Konoha again, you better stop by. You’re pretty easy to get along with.”
Boruto had to look down for a second.
It hurt, knowing Naruto didn’t know who he really was. It hurt even more knowing how much this younger version had been dealing with beneath the façade. And yet, Naruto still stood there, cheerful, almost glowing, still himself.
The future was built on this person. Boruto knew that better than anyone now.
Kakashi stepped forward, patting Naruto’s shoulder lightly before speaking to Boruto.
Kakashi spoke lightly, but his gaze was sharp. “Take care on your way back.”
Boruto nodded again. “I will.”
But then Naruto bumped Boruto’s arm with his elbow.
“Hey.” He grinned wider. “You’ll come back someday, right?”
Boruto froze for a heartbeat. Then he nodded, firm, steady.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I will.”
Naruto seemed satisfied with that. He waved lazily once Boruto started walking away.
“Safe travels, Makoro! Don’t forget, come back next time!”
Boruto looked over his shoulder one last time.
Naruto was waving wildly with both arms. Kakashi was standing beside him, calm but watchful. Sunlight fell over them, catching Naruto’s smile in a way that made Boruto’s breath hitch for half a second.
He turned back toward the road before either of them could see the emotion on his face.
“Heh,” Naruto said, hands behind his head, “y’know, Kakashi-sensei, that Makoro kid was kinda weird.”
He said it cheerfully, almost laughing, like it was just an amusing observation rather than something serious.
Kakashi glanced over, one eye curving in a smile. “Weird, huh?”
“Yeah!” Naruto grinned. “He kept doing these little nervous faces, and he talked like an old dude sometimes. But he was pretty cool! Just weird.”
Kakashi closed his book with one finger and slid it away.
“Well,” he said, “you’re weirder.”
Naruto froze mid-grin.
“…What?! ME?!”
Kakashi nodded as if this were undisputable fact. “Definitely weirder.”
Naruto puffed out his cheeks like an offended balloon. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not weird!”
“You’re very weird,” Kakashi replied calmly, hands in his pockets.
“No I’m not! I’m awesome!”
Kakashi tilted his head. “You know , it’s not always a bad thing when someone is weird. Just makes them more likable.”
Silence.
“Sometimes..”
Naruto takes in his words, not sure if it was a compliment. “Well then, I guess I am weird? Maybe. Sometimes. But I’m still normal!”
Kakashi let him sputter for another few seconds before cutting in, voice light, almost playful.
“Well,” he said, “if you’re done being extremely normal…”
Naruto huffed. “I am normal.”
“Mhm. Of course,” Kakashi agreed, with absolutely zero conviction. “Anyway… want to go to Ichiraku?”
Naruto’s annoyance evaporated instantly.
“Yes!” He practically jumped. “Let’s go right now!”
Kakashi added casually, “We could invite Sakura, too.”
Naruto paused mid-jump, then tried to play it cool, but his ears immediately turned pink.
“Sakura? Yeah! Yeah, we should ask her!” He cleared his throat. “You know. ’Cause she likes ramen too. Totally normal reason.”
Kakashi gave him a sideways glance. “Naturally.”
“Stop that!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Naruto groaned dramatically, but he was already smiling again.
The two of them started walking back toward the village, warm sunlight spilling over the rooftops. Naruto was already talking excitedly about how many bowls he was planning to eat, while Kakashi just nodded along, the faintest smile hidden behind his mask.
The second Boruto was out of view, his smile faded.
He didn’t leave through the gate.
Instead, he quietly circled around the outer wall, waited for the guards to shift positions, and slipped back into the village through a gap in the older stonework. It wasn’t exactly elegant, but he’d seen Naruto sneak through way worse openings in his own time.
Okay… I just need to figure out how to get back. There has to be something…
He jogged through the streets, avoiding familiar faces, heading toward the exact place he had first appeared, the old, quiet street behind the market, the one nobody really used anymore.
His footsteps slowed as he reached it.
There, on the ground where he had first landed in this timeline, was a small black orb. Perfectly round. Perfectly still. As if it had been waiting for him the entire time.
Boruto crouched down, staring at it.
“…Guess you’re my ride home,” he whispered.
His fingers hovered over it, hesitation creeping in.
He thought of Naruto, the younger Naruto, smiling at him, calling him weird in the best possible way. Thought of Kakashi’s quiet suspicion, Tsunade’s sharp gaze.
I hope… everything stays the same here.
He swallowed hard.
Finally, he touched the orb.
The world shattered into darkness instantly, no sound, no wind, just a sudden pitch-black void swallowing him whole. It felt like he was being pulled, twisted through a tunnel that didn’t exist, like time itself had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward.
Then—
THUD.
Boruto gasped and sat up.
He wasn’t outside.
He wasn’t in the past.
He wasn’t even in Konoha’s streets.
He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to dim, bluish light. Tall shelves loomed over him, filled with ancient scrolls and sealed documents. Strange machinery hummed quietly in the corners.
There was only one place in the entire village that looked like this.
The Forbidden Archive Tower.
Boruto stood up slowly, the strange blue glow of the tower fading as he dusted himself off. His heartbeat steadied when the realization hit him all at once.
He made it back.
He exhaled in one long, shaky breath, then broke into a grin.
“Finally… I’m home.”
He hurried out of the archive chamber, pushing through the heavy door. The moment he stepped outside, moonlight hit his face, gentle, bright, familiar. He blinked up at the sky, then at the village below him.
Future Konoha.
Tall buildings, newer rooftops, the bustle of shinobi moving through the streets. His Konoha. His timeline.
Boruto let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head.
“I actually did it…”
Instinctively, he glanced at his watch. His eyes widened.
Only a few minutes had passed since he disappeared.
All that time in the past, all the conversations, all the emotions, yet here, barely any time had moved at all.
He swallowed hard. A strange mix of relief and protectiveness tightened in his chest.
Dad… I need to see him. Right now.
Without wasting another second, Boruto sprinted toward the Hokage Tower. His footsteps echoed against the stone steps as he burst inside, only to skid to a halt.
Silence.
Not a single person inside.
No yammering assistants, no stack of paperwork on the main desk, not even Shikamaru complaining about something in the next room. The tower felt weirdly empty, too quiet for daytime.
Boruto stood there for a moment, confused.
“Where is dad..?”
He didn’t wait around to figure it out. The unease in his stomach pushed him forward. He rushed outside again, leaping up onto the nearest ledge, and started roof-hopping across the village, moving faster and faster.
He had one thought, one focus, one person he needed to get to:
Home.
He darted across tiles and over gaps between buildings, the wind pulling at his jacket, urgency burning in his chest.
By the time Boruto reached his neighborhood, the adrenaline that carried him across the rooftops had settled into a quieter, heavier pulse. It was dark out, the kind of deep blue-black that only settled over Konoha long after most families were asleep.
The village streets were nearly empty. A few lanterns glowed softly from porches, and cicadas hummed somewhere in the background. It felt strangely calm compared to the whirlwind he had just lived through.
Boruto slowed down as he reached the door of his home. For a second, he just stood there, hand hovering over the handle. It felt almost unreal, that after everything in the past, after seeing his father at fifteen with all those secrets hidden under his smile, he was now back here, at his front door, as if none of it ever happened.
He finally pushed inside.
Warm light greeted him. The living room was quiet, cozy, lived-in. The table was cleared, dishes stacked neatly on the counter. On the couch was a folded pile of laundry, shirts, towels, socks arranged the way only one person in the house folded them.
His mom.
Hinata was there, wiping down the last corner of the kitchen table. She looked up the moment she heard the door close.
“Boruto? Where did you go?” Her voice was gentle.
Boruto froze for half a second. He couldn’t exactly say, Oh, I time-traveled and just got back from having instant ramen with Dad from the past.
So he scratched his cheek and forced a shrug.
“Uh… just went out for a quick walk. Couldn’t sleep.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. Just far from the whole truth.
Hinata smiled softly, accepting the answer without suspicion, because she always trusted him more than he probably deserved.
“Alright. But next time, don’t just run out of the house, okay?”
Boruto nodded, and only then did he notice, his heart was pounding again. Not from running, but from anticipation.
Because now that he was back in the future…
He needed to see him.
He stepped closer. “Hey, Mom… uh, where’s Dad?”
Hinata put the cloth down and brushed her hair behind her ear.
“He just got home a moment ago,” she said with a gentle smile. “He’s in our bedroom changing.”
Boruto’s breath caught.
He was here.
The real Naruto, older, the father he grew up with, the one he wanted to see from the second he returned.
Boruto swallowed, forcing his voice to stay steady.
“Oh. Okay.”
He stared down the hallway for a long moment, hands loosening and tightening at his sides.
Hinata turned back to tidying, unaware of the storm in his chest.
Boruto stood in the dim hallway outside his parents’ bedroom, his hand hovering just above the doorframe. He could hear soft movements inside, the rustle of fabric, the creak of the dresser drawer. His heart thudded hard enough that he wondered if it would give him away.
This was it.
He pushed the door open.
The room was lit only by a warm bedside lamp. Naruto stood near the dresser, shirt in one hand, pajama pants already on. His back was half-turned, golden hair slightly messy from rubbing a towel through it earlier. He looked older than the Naruto Boruto had been with in the past, more lines around the eyes, more weight of the Hokage on his shoulders, but it was still him.
Naruto glanced over, expecting maybe Hinata, and blinked when he saw Boruto.
“Oh, hey, Boruto,” he said with his usual tired little grin. “You’re up late. Everything okay?”
Boruto barely heard him.
Because even though he tried not to stare, his eyes caught it immediately, Naruto’s right arm, or rather the absence of it, the familiar prosthetic lying on the nightstand. And on his left arm, the natural one.
There were scars. Very faint, almost completely faded, but still there if someone knew to look. Thin pale reminders that didn’t match any battle injury Boruto knew about. They were nothing like the red, raw marks Boruto had heard about on his father in the past, but the shapes, the pattern, Boruto recognized them.
He felt his stomach twist.
But he held it in. He forced himself not to react.
Not now.
Not while Naruto was looking at him with concern.
Boruto swallowed hard and stepped forward.
Naruto opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could, Boruto moved, quickly, almost desperately, and wrapped his arms around him.
Naruto froze in place.
“Wha- Boruto?” he said, completely thrown off. “Hey, what’s going on?”
Boruto clung tighter. Naruto was warm and solid and safe in a way Boruto hadn’t felt in what felt like days, even though, here, only minutes had passed.
He didn’t speak at first. His throat felt tight in a way words couldn’t get through. He just pressed his forehead against Naruto’s chest, holding on like he was afraid his father might vanish if he let go.
Naruto hesitated, still confused, but then gently brought his left arm up around his son’s back while holding his clothes in his right hand. The single arm hug wasn’t perfect, but Naruto did his best, patting Boruto’s shoulder softly.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You okay?”
Boruto nodded into his chest.
Naruto chuckled under his breath, still trying to make sense of this sudden display of affection. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in a year.”
Boruto didn’t laugh.
He just held on.
Naruto’s expression changed, worry settling in, replacing confusion.
“…Boruto?” he asked, voice gentler now. “Really. What’s wrong?”
Boruto shook his head, forcing a small breath. “Nothing. I just… wanted to check on you.”
Naruto blinked at him, surprised by the seriousness in Boruto’s tone. The usually sharp, playful son he knew wasn’t acting like himself, and Naruto could feel something heavy lingering beneath the surface, something Boruto wasn’t ready to say.
But Naruto didn’t push. He never pushed.
He just squeezed Boruto closer with his one arm, rubbing slow circles across his back.
“Well,” Naruto said softly, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Boruto swallowed again, eyes tight.
He didn’t look at the scars.
He didn’t mention anything.
He didn’t say that he knew things Naruto didn’t know he knew.
He just stood there, hugging his father in the quiet of the room, feeling Naruto breathing, alive and here and safe.
And Boruto wasn’t letting go just yet.