Title: Dancing Cherry Blossom

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Rating: K+

Fandom: Naruto/Boruto

Words: 413

Genre: General/Family

Summary: Her family lived in a dark underbelly, and Misaki's daughter Mao just wanted to sparkle in the sunlight... Set in Boruto Next Generations after the events of Ghost of a Rose.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or its successor Boruto.

A/N: The title is Mao's name which means "dancing cherry blossom."

Morino Mao snapped the door closed with a shudder. That weird kid was following her around again. What was even his deal? Even when she threatened him with a punch, he responded with a serpentine smile and asked if she really wanted to do that.

It was as if he had threatened her. But, she wasn't sure if he had. How could he make her feel like the bad guy?

The only thing she could do is complain to her mother, but Mao was sure it would get lost in the void.

"He's Orochimaru's son," Misaki explained while stirring something in her cooking pot.

Mao didn't know who that was or how he still figured into their life. Her father probably knew something though. Her parents kept too many secrets. It was if she had been raised in the dark underbelly of something.

Konoha wasn't like that. It was bright and lively. Friendly. Was Mao just messed up?

"I don't like him," Mao confessed.

Misaki stared out the window as the sun was beginning to slant leaving behind shadows. She was lost in space again. Typical mom.

"You don't have to like him...but Mitsuki's father saved my life. Please, understand." It was as if her mother was pleading with her.

Mao knew that her mother was thinking back to that day when Misaki's parents had been slaughtered in front of her. The details about that incident were of course murky, but Mao knew better than to pry.

Then, this Orochimaru had supposedly taken her mother to Konohagakure. Once more, Misaki brought the crushing guilt down upon her. Mao would never know her grandparents.

"You want me to be nice to him," Mao gauged.

Misaki quickly turned around while nodding and smiling. Her mother often complimented on how quick her mind was. Mao had perhaps inherited that from her Great-uncle Ibiki. Or her father.

"Civil," Misaki corrected. "Will you promise me?"

Mao did. After all, as her both her parents claimed, Mao was lucky to have a home at all. Sometimes, Mao grew tired of being grateful all the time. That was more her mother's thing.

It was still early. Instantly, without waiting, twelve-year-old Mao launched herself outside into the sunlight. She was the impulsive type.

Maybe she would grow wings and fly away from here. She already knew that she had to do all the growing that her mother hadn't done.

One day, she would sparkle in the sun, and everyone would see.