Hello! This is just a quick little one-shot I thought of based off the Boruto trailer. Please be forewarned, it does follow the canon ending. Hope you all enjoy!

The Jacket

One-Shot

It smelled like him.

Boruto gripped the jacket closer to his chest as he inhaled the stale scent of ramen and earth. It was torn and dirty and obviously old, but the warmth Boruto felt just holding it in his hands negated every bad feeling he'd had since this whole mess started. Soft worn cloth folded through his fingers as gently his father's hands threaded through his hair. He pressed his face into the fabric, feeling the tears and frayed thread against his cheeks. They tickled against his skin.

It was orange, of course. Almost all his dad's clothes were orange. Boruto had never understood his father's obsession with the color. It was loud and obnoxious and tacky – very much like Naruto himself. Boruto sometimes wondered if his dad wore orange because it suited him or because he had grown to suit the color. Though, why he'd been allowed to wear it as a child was anyone's guess. Surely, someone should have told him it wasn't very fitting for a ninja.

Now black – black was much more suitable for a shinobi. It blended in, didn't get in the way or catch the enemy's eye. But this jacket, with its garish blue and orange combination, did the complete opposite. Why Naruto had even bothered to keep it was a mystery. Why he thought Boruto would be interested in it was another. Boruto had no interest in his father's past. Least of all, in a jacket so orange it hurt even against the blackness surrounding him. He could picture his father in this. It practically screamed Uzumaki Naruto.

The faint scent of smoke from a dead fire wafted under his nose. Night had long since fallen over the camp, only the occasional sound of wind rustling through the trees disturbed the silence. Boruto leaned back against the tree trunk, blue eyes flickering from the jacket to the sky. It was an unfairly clear night. Stars twinkled merrily against the inky darkness now that there was no fire to drown them out.

Boruto hated it.

He ran his hand over the jacket, rhythmically. It had only been a few days; a few days since his father had gone missing. Since, news had reached the village of an unknown enemy. The nations were in a crisis. The Hokage was missing. People were already preparing evacuations and shelters. It was as if they'd already given up.

This was not what he'd planned for a training trip.

It was supposed to be his month to train – his month to prepare for the Chuunin Exams. He was supposed to return in four weeks, completely wow the crowd with his skills, and force his dad to step down as Hokage. Sasuke-sensei would make him so strong his dad would have no choice but to retire. He'd had it all planned out. Boruto snorted. See how well that turned out. Now they were out here, running to who knows where, to try and find a man who shouldn't even need their help.

His dad couldn't be that amazing. Not enough to throw the entire Elemental Nations into a tailspin. Like, yeah, he was the Hokage, but he wasn't that special. He was just…dad. Dorky, hyperactive, stupid dad. If anything, he'd probably gotten lost on the way back from this fight and everyone was being thrown for a loop over nothing. He could see his dad doing something like that. There was no way he was actually in trouble, absolutely no way.

His dad was the Hokage.

He could handle anything.

Boruto leaned down to press his face into the jacket once more. Maybe the smell would stick with him and it would help them track Naruto down. His fingers spasmed against the fabric. He didn't even feel as his grip tightened and twisted around the cloth, pulling at some of the holes that were already far too big. At this rate, it would be nothing more than an orange scrap, a silly fragment of his father's past.

There was a shifting sound from above him, but Boruto didn't flinch. He just clutched the jacket tighter.

"We're leaving. It will be light soon," Sasuke-sensei's voice broke through the peace.

Boruto's eyes flittered half-lidded up to see his teacher – standing poised and prepared with one hand on his sword – and then back down to the jacket. He took in the holes and the frayed threads, the clashing blues and oranges, and the Uzumaki swirls. The whole thing was loud and obnoxious and tacky – perfectly unsuitable for a shinobi.

Boruto stood. He pulled the jacket on, smelling ramen and earth in the air. There was a warmth on his back and a ruffling at his shoulders. He hefted his pack.

"Yeah. Let's go."

And that's that. I hope you all enjoyed it! Please review, but don't flame. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but flames don't help writers improve. Thank you so much for reading and have a lovely day!

~AlabasterInk