Lately, I've been focusing on original stories and thought I was more or less done with fanfiction. But, well. You know what they say about old habits. This is my first time delving into the Naruto fandom and I'll be upfront about the fact that I'm far from an expert on the world and the lore, so please be forgiving if some things don't quite line up with canon fact. (An example is that canonically Boruto and Naruto are the same height at 12 years old, but in the story Boruto is just a bit taller. Other changes include how curse marks and chakra sensing work, though you'll notice others with time. Some people have pointed it out so I thought it best to clarify here!) I've also not seen much of Boruto past the movie and the first bit of the series (this takes place BEFORE the Chunin Exams), so there will likely be a lot of discrepancies. Lastly, this story will have some canon divergent happenings, so bear that in mind.

A big thanks to my wife Blackberreh for the wonderful cover.

Against the blue afternoon sky sat a world of slate white slabs crumbling to their roots. Boruto lingered behind his team, hands shoved unceremoniously into his pockets. His feet dragged as they walked further into the ruins that made up the Village Hidden in Time. It seemed a stupid name to him; time had had its way with that place. Everything looked old and ancient and fragile. It probably was, too.

Ahead of him, his teammates walked dutifully behind their leader. Sarada seemed interested in it all, but Mitsuki… not so much. He at least pretended to be entertained, which was more than Boruto could say for himself.

Maybe he should have been happy that they were finally getting C-rank missions, but at the end of the day, wasn't a retrieval mission just glorified errand running? That was probably pessimistic of him to think. It didn't make it any less true.

"The scroll we're retrieving appears to be instructions on how to perform an imprint jutsu," Konohamaru explained.

They stood at the foot of the World Temple—at least, that's what he'd heard it called, whatever that meant. He absently kicked about a stone as he walked. Sarada just rolled her eyes.

"So, it leaves an imprint… of what, exactly?" she asked, ignoring her teammate completely.

They passed through the front entrance of the temple where some of the excavators were hanging around on break. The first room was massive. Stained glass windows filtered in coloured light where they hadn't been shattered and cracked by time. The core of the building was standing better than anything else outside. Polished stone walls still stood strong despite everything. But this room was for worship; there was nothing of interest to see. They took a path to the right, down a long and narrow corridor that led to a stairwell that they could use to make their descent.

"Of the caster," Konohamaru continued, leading the way. The further they went, the more maze-like the structure became. It was… kinda cool. Felt like they were on an actual mission, now that everything wasn't so black-and-white. But their leader knew exactly where they were going so it wasn't much of an adventure. "With it, you can record a message and seal it on an object. Once the seal breaks, your message will play to the one who broke it, just like that!"

Sarada hummed, hand on her hip as she looked left and right at the aged engravings on the walls. "That doesn't seem all that useful… there are better ways to leave messages for other ninjas. Sounds like it would be easy for the wrong person to get ahold of, too."

Konohamaru rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Well, you're not wrong… but this jutsu is very old. Back then, it was probably the best they had. And if we analyze it back home, it might glean some knowledge into other scrolls that the people of the Hidden Time stored here."

"And that is why we're bringing it back."

"You got it."

Boruto yawned. Instructions for a messaging jutsu? That's what they came all this way for? It seemed like a pretty big waste of time… which was probably why they put a team of genin up to the task. He wasn't surprised.

The Time Village was located in a remote part of the Land of Fire, so it was practically right in their backyard. No roads led there; to find their way, they had to rely on the coordinates left to them by the excavators. Even still, Boruto was sure he could find his way back to Konoha now that he'd made the trip once before. He had a knack for remembering directions.

As they turned down a branching hallway, Boruto's steps slowed. He didn't even realize that he was falling behind, a strange feeling pulling at him from beyond the wall to his right. He blinked, gawking openly at the stonework.

Something was telling him to walk into it. That something was stupid. Why would he do that? But it kept prodding, nudging him to do it. There were no words, just this… strange intent bleeding into his mind from somewhere beyond. Whatever it was, it must have really wanted him to break his face against the wall. He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I'm that stupid."

Mitsuki's steps faltered. He twisted around, tilting his head when he saw his teammate lagging behind. "Did you find something?"

Boruto's head snapped forward and he stammered a moment before letting out a chuckle. "Like what? This place is empty."

Mitsuki stared, his eyes lingering longer than perhaps they should before he faced forward and rejoined the rest of the group.

Boruto made to follow. He took a step but stopped just as soon as he started. A shudder ran through him, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and his head snapped back to face the wall. Maybe he should…

He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. "Aw, damn it. Alright, already!"

His hands came together to form the familiar signs of his shadow clone jutsu and a clone popped into existence through a puff of smoke. They shared a grin before the clone dashed off after his team. At least with that, he didn't have to worry about a lecture from his sensei for wandering off. He doubted the clone would fool them for long, though. It was best to make his excursion quick.

Boruto eyed the wall critically, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the stone. The slightest touch caused a warm spark of chakra to bite at his fingertips and his eyes went wide, a slow grin curling his lips.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about."

With a level of caution uncharacteristic of him, Boruto slipped into the wall. First his hand, then his body, as the warm tingle of chakra devoured him. He came out on the other side in a stumble. It was another hall. There was a strong smell of mildew here. Moss broke through the cracks and crevices brought on by age and the air was damp. He pulled a face and turned around, able to see the hall that he came from through the translucent images created by whatever jutsu was in place there.

"Huh. Not very hard to figure out, is it…"

He shrugged it off and followed the hall, his shoes splashing through the thin film of water pooling on the floor. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see. It was a phantom dark. He could make out the edges of the walls and ceiling in the distance, a soft glow bleeding in from the bend at the end. He could make out the silhouette of algae and the lines of the stonework.

The further he got, the more he noticed a draft coming in from up ahead.

At the end of the hall, he turned and paused. It opened up to a chasm of branching pathways. Light filtered in from above through a stain glass ceiling three levels higher than the one Boruto was on. He looked down. There were levels below, too, fading into blackness. He swallowed his nerves and tread cautiously forward along the wall-less path.

"Where even is this place?" he muttered to himself, looking this way and that at the many openings in the walls, leading to and from one another. "Which way is it?"

There was a buzz at the back of his mind and he whirled around. His sight came to rest on a doorway two levels down and he felt… something.

"There?" he questioned, waiting for an answer that never came.

He hopped off the path he was on and landed on another, entering his chosen doorway. As he stepped off the path, he stopped. Something told him not to step forward. He couched, lowering his hand to the stone tiles, rolling his eyes when it fazed right on through. "The same trick twice? Really?"

He hopped up and concentrated his chakra on the bottoms of his feet, allowing him to easily walk along the cavern's walls. He huffed, chin up and arms crossed. It continued like that for a while. The traps were simple, easy to see through, and a bit of a joke, compared to some of the stuff they'd had to do in the academy. Whatever they were hiding down there couldn't have been very important.

Eventually, he came to a door. There was a hidden switch, a riddle about time engraved on the wall. He couldn't read the text; it was foreign, ancient and, quite frankly, looked more like pictures than words to him. But there it was again—that feeling, that pull, and he was led to find the switch beneath a statue in another room. The door opened with the gravelly slide of stone, the floor quaking beneath its might, and in the centre of the room beyond stood a pedestal.

Boruto took a deep breath and strode right on up. Atop the pedestal sat a scroll, secured there by a metal holder. Unlike the rest of the hidden chambers he had traversed, this room was dry and untouched. He doubted a scroll could have lasted otherwise.

Take it.

He stepped back, looking around for the source of… whatever that had been.

It's yours.

"...Mine?" He raised an eyebrow, observing the scroll, and let out a forced chuckle. "What would I want with some dumb scroll? What is it, anyway?"

There was no answer. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Even what he heard hadn't really been words… They felt more like thoughts. He could glean meaning from them, but couldn't actually hear what they were saying.

Boruto rubbed his forehead, licked his lips, and admitted to himself that he was perhaps a little unnerved.

Ah, whatever. Maybe he could take it to the excavators when he reconvened with the group, see what they had to say on the whole thing.

He snatched it off the pedestal and the moment he did his arm spiked with pain. Ink bled from the scroll onto his hand and up his arm. Markings of foreign characters coiled further and further around, to his shoulder, then his neck. He hurriedly dropped the scroll but it didn't stop the ink from spreading.

"W-what is this?" His voice cracked and he watched as the ink staining his skin lit up in a pale blue. The light brightened like a star until all he could see was white.

And through the white, two small, pinprick eyes watching him.

When the light faded the only thing left behind was a discarded scroll in an empty room.

Konohamaru smiled, arms crossed as he listened to the story one of the excavators was telling his team. None of the kids seemed all that interested, but he knew with time these sorts of things would garner more attention. The careful art of extracting artifacts from fallen ruins was one that could be appreciated more as one got older.

The woman smiled, holding up the imprint scroll with a gloved hand. "This here is your mission. Keep it safe for us on your return to Konoha, alright?"

Sarada stepped forward. She was already wearing gloves—they'd been instructed that they needed them if they were to go to the excavation site. Everything down there was fragile and old, and the last thing they needed was for an artifact to be damaged by the oils of someone's skin. She took the scroll carefully in her hands, holding it like glass. She, out of all of her teammates, at least showed some enthusiasm for the mission.

Boruto was dead last. He'd barely paid attention.

"So," Sarada began as she placed the scroll in the container they'd been given, "why are we just bringing back this one? You seem to have uncovered a lot…"

Looking around, Sarada was right; what had been found was placed on this floor, carefully separated from one another on tarps that had been brought down.

The woman dusted her hands. "Well, it's the only one safe to bring back right now."

"Safe?"

"Artifacts like this tend to have curses placed on them," Konohamaru supplied, figuring he could be proactive and turn their excursion into a lesson. "Countermeasures against theft and the like. Excavators can't safely handle any items they find until they've been looked over by an archivist."

The woman nodded. "Exactly right. Everything you see here has been extracted, but either hasn't been looked at yet or hasn't had any cursed seals removed."

Mitsuki blinked, his eyes moving across the room, scanning everything they had unearthed. Then his eyes were back on the scroll. "This one is safe, then."

"In fact," she began, lowering onto the floor, "it's the only item that's been checked so far that doesn't have any protective seals on it. A bit strange, don't you think?"

Boruto rolled his eyes. "Probably 'cause it's nothing spec—"

The boy vanished in a puff of smoke, his last word hanging in the air.

Sarada stepped over to where her teammate had been, frowning. "A shadow clone?" She sighed. "Gosh, now where's that idiot gone off to…"

Konohamaru swallowed back his unease as he rubbed his neck. Something about this didn't feel right…

"Let's go find him, then… He couldn't have gone far."

Konohamaru was regretting the words 'he couldn't have gone far' when they were four hours into their search without a sign of the boy. He could already taste Lord Seventh's fury when informed of his son's unknown whereabouts. By that point, the excavators had halted their expedition to form a search party. This was the son of the Hokage they were talking about.

By the fifth hour, one of the on-site archivists relayed to him that they found a suspicious hidden room. The traps had all been activated leading up to it, the door already open. Konohamaru arrived to find a lone scroll resting on the floor. Against the wishes of the excavators, he snatched it up and opened it, revealing nothing but empty, yellowing paper.

He swallowed the newly formed lump in his throat. "I need to inform Lord Seventh of this."

Boruto roused to a burning pain in his left arm. He hissed against the fiery heat until it cooled, and after a while, it was almost as if there'd been no pain to start. He blinked open his eyes, stared up at a stone ceiling, and then picked himself off the floor. He was in the temple—in that weird room with the scroll on the pedestal. He remembered grabbing it, and then…

The memory hit and the haze of sleep left him. He hurriedly pulled up his sleeve to see those strange markings—

They weren't there. There was nothing, not even a hint.

A dream? No. No, he knew what he saw. But, at the same time…

It was probably best to find his team now. He couldn't feel the clone anymore, but that was to be expected; he hadn't yet mastered keeping them around while he slept. How long was he out for? Sensei was going to kill him… or if he didn't, Sarada sure would.

He heaved a sigh and jumped to his feet.

The way back up was a lot quicker to traverse, now that he knew the way. Soon he was slipping through the fake wall and descending back down in the direction his team had gone. It didn't take long to notice that something was… off, though.

There was no one around. Even as he got closer to the excavation site, no one.

Even at the bottom, no one.

Boruto's next action was making it back to the surface. The sun was high and the ruins outside of the World Temple were just as vacant as the ones inside. He bit his lip, sitting on the steps as he mulled over what may have happened while he was asleep.

"They wouldn't have just left me here," he muttered to himself, tossing a rock in his hand absently. He threw it, watching it skid through the dirt. "Unless, maybe, they couldn't find me…"

But then where was everyone else?

The sun was still high and he rationalized that the best course of action would be to return to Konoha, just as his team probably would have. He could reconveen with them there and grill them on what happened. At the very least, he could be sure it would still be sun-up when he got back.

Not to brag, but Boruto found he was very good at travelling alone. He made it back to the village in what he thought was less time than it'd taken Konohamaru to lead them to the Hidden Time. Before long, he was signing in at the front gate. The guard stationed there looked bored before noticing him, giving Boruto's headband a narrowed look.

"Out causing trouble again?" the guard asked, looking back down at his table.

Boruto's nose scrunched up. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Where's your team?"

"Oh, uh…" He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his head. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't like to think was shame, but it just may have been. It was his fault they'd gotten separated in the first place. He knew that. And he'd own up to it. He pointed out towards the forest. "Kinda got separated. I was hoping to meet back up with them in the village, y'know?"

The guard nodded along with a gruff snort and waved him inside.

The moment he saw the village, Boruto knew something was off.

It was very apparent that this was not the Konoha that Boruto knew. The whole thing felt smaller, more cramped. The buildings didn't reach as high. His eyes darted this way and that as he mapped out his village in his head, and nothing was where it was supposed to be.

The ramen place was there—the one that dad liked so much, Ichiraku Ramen. Same name, at least. The building as a whole was entirely different—small, humble. Old. The Ichiraku Ramen that he knew was better kept. Looking around, a lot of places were like that. Small, modest shops and housing. Hell, he couldn't even see the rail—

As he looked up his breath caught in his throat. Hokage Rock was missing three of its seven faces. It was bizarre and almost disconcerting, not having his father's vacant-eyed face overlooking the village. The Sixth wasn't there, either, or the Fifth. They just ended after Grandpa Minato.

A thought buzzed around inside Boruto's head, one that he'd spent the better half of the day trying to ignore.

His house was gone. There was no Mom or Himawari waiting for him there. He checked the school next. There was a school there, but it wasn't the one he knew. With an air of defeat, he dropped onto a swing, staring ruefully at the building. His hands gripped tightly to the rope, his eyes dipping to the ground.

Okay, just think for a moment.

The first assumption he could make was that he was trapped in a jutsu—that this was all an illusion, created by his mind to trap him. When he picked up the scroll, something came out of it. Maybe that could offer up an explanation for what was going on. Was it a curse? Damn, it better not have been a curse… He didn't know the first thing about breaking curses. Someone in the real world would, though, right?

...Right?

The second theory stewing in his mind made him feel a bit silly for even thinking of it in the first place. Nah, it couldn't be.

The sun was setting, washing over him in an orange warmth. The warmth of the sun felt real. How could he tell that it wasn't? But its warmth was cut off abruptly as a shadow cast over him.

"Hey."

Boruto found a pair of sandaled feet set before him. He followed them up to an orange jumpsuit, the boy's arms crossed over his chest.

It was impossible. Even he knew that.

"That's my—er… nevermind." The boy cleared his throat, leaning in as his narrow eyes met Boruto's. "Hey, I haven't seen you before… Are you new here, or somethin'?"

His eyes widened. His jaw slacked.

The boy blinked, scratching his head at the lacking response. "Uh… okay. Not much of a talker, are ya? Jeez…" He clapped his hands together, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear, and he held out a hand. "The name's Naruto Uzumaki. I'm gonna be the Hokage!"

Oh.

Oh no.

Before him stood a boy, likely the same age, a little on the short side with bright blue eyes and unruly blond hair. It was a face he recognized from a framed picture in his father's office, a long-gone memory of the past.

To Boruto, his father had always been a towering, impossible figure of strength and something else, something a lot less savoury. Something a lot more bitter. So how could this small, goofy-looking kid ever be—

"Fine, jeez…" Naruto retracted his hand, throwing it behind his head. "You're kinda weird."

Boruto blinked. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to find his voice, his hands uncurling from the ropes to rest in his lap. "A-ah, er… sorry. Guess I spaced out there. What was that?"

Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You're supposed to give your name when someone gives theirs, y'know."

"Oh. Boruto." Crap. Thinking back, if this really was—and he felt stupid for even thinking it—the past, then the last thing he should have done was give his name. Right? It just came out so easily, and…

Then again, if this was the illusion of some sort of jutsu, it probably wouldn't matter. He wasn't sure if he should be banking on that, though.

"Boruto, eh?" Naruto kicked the dirt, looking him over with a critical eye. "You look kinda familiar."

"I look like you," he muttered in correction, regretting it as soon as he did.

"Yeah," Naruto grinned, "sure do."

Boruto's shoulders slumped and he averted his eyes to the ground again. He listened to the scuff of sandals, the shift of cloth as his father came to rest against the tree that the swing hung from. There was a short lived silence that he used to collect his thoughts. This kid was so different, but there was a part of him that felt the same. And he was inclined to believe it all. That didn't mean it wasn't an illusion, or the product of some sort of jutsu, but at the very least, this kid was meant to be his father.

That also gave him a time frame for when this world was supposed to take place. He honestly didn't know much about his dad's childhood—like his time training as a genin, or how he got to where he was—but he did know some of the basics. Dad had no parents. Grandpa Minato and Grandma Kushina died soon after he was born, so he grew up alone. Sometimes that seemed like it'd be a blessing to Boruto, but the more he thought about it, the more he couldn't imagine not having his mom or Himawari with him. And Dad, well…

He peeked up, stealing a glance at the short kid standing against the tree with crossed arms and legs, grinning at him. Did Dad always smile that much? As he fought through his memories, he found he had trouble bringing anything significant to mind.

"Where you from?" Naruto asked, but answered his own question when his eyes found Boruto's headband, and the smile slid off his face. "I've never seen you 'round here."

He chewed his lip and thought. He shouldn't just outright say it; he knew that much, at least. Things could change, or… something. As much as part of him wanted to challenge that he wouldn't care, he knew it was a lie. There were things he couldn't bear to erase.

When he couldn't think of an appropriate answer, he chose silence.

Naruto tapped his finger impatiently against his arm while awaiting a reply and when he didn't get it, he groaned. This version of Dad was very upfront about his feelings; he wore his every thought on his face. "Alright, then…" He nodded to the headband. "You're a ninja, right?"

"Genin," he supplied awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Naruto had something to latch onto now and ran with it. "Me too. What team are you on? Who's your team leader? Got any cool jutsu to show off? Did you just come back from, like, a mission or something? Is that why I don't recognize you? Oh, but… that still doesn't make sense 'cause you weren't in my class."

Boruto raised an eyebrow. That was the most chatty he'd ever seen his dad, and it was kinda weird. As such, he followed the questions with an eloquent, "Um." His team wouldn't exist then, and his leader… Konohamaru would have been even younger than Dad. Couldn't use him. But there was one thing…

"Actually," he started, his legs swinging back and forth absently. "I'm on a mission now."

"Don't tell me: the old lady downtown lost her cat again?"

Boruto raised an eyebrow. "Er, no? It's a retrieval mission. Outside the village. C-rank?"

"What?!" Naruto ran a hand through his hair. "Aw, man… All we ever get assigned is stupid D-rank missions. How's that fair?"

Huh. It was hard to imagine the great Hokage doing menial D-rank tasks around the village. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that his dad's shadow clones often did just that.

"Crap!"

He looked up. The sun dipped behind Konoha's walls and burned up the sky in a sea of fire-orange, bleeding out around the blue shadows stretching east across the village. It was later than he thought.

Naruto pushed off the tree and focused on the sunset with a slow-forming dread. "I'm supposed to meet Iruka-sensei!"

Boruto blinked, his shoulders slumping, and he stared hard at his father's shadow. It was long, warping across the ground, and reminded him of the Naruto that he knew. "You should get going, then."

The shadow remained.

"Hey," Naruto called, throwing his arms behind his head. "Ya hungry?"

Ichiraku Ramen was nothing like what Boruto had come to know. He remembered his father bringing him once or twice, and that place was nothing like the unassuming hole-in-the-wall where they sat now.

The sun was down, the darkness fought off by the lantern light glowing off the ramen bar. There was a steaming bowl of ramen sitting before him untouched. His father ordered it for him—today's special, apparently. His father, who was currently stuffing his face to the right of him.

There was a nudge to his shoulder and he shied away, eyeing the weird kid.

"Don't just stare at it, eat! Teuchi worked hard on that."

He snorted but found himself complying as he broke apart his chopsticks and started picking through the bowl.

Naruto heaved a contented sigh and twisted around, looking out into the night. "Can't believe we beat Iruka-sensei here. I wonder what's taking him, y'know?" He rummaged through his pocket before placing down a pile of change. Teuchi readily accepted the offer. "Actually… do you know Iruka-sensei?"

Boruto swallowed his first mouthful and wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist. "Know of him." Of course he knew Iruka. How couldn't he? But this Iruka wouldn't know him.

Naruto opened his mouth to reply when his attention shifted, his eyes shifting to the darkness, and his lips curled into a grin. "There you are!"

Iruka stopped at the edge of the bar's light, arms folded one over the other. "Sorry, Naruto, I got a bit caught up—" And then he noticed Boruto, eyes narrowed. Of course he wouldn't brush off the resemblance like Dad had. "Who's your friend?"

"I, uh—"

"Boruto!" An arm snaked around Boruto's shoulders, pulling him in. "Isn't it weird?"

Iruka frowned. "Like looking in a mirror." He took a seat, his movements careful and slow as he came to rest on the stool beside his former student. He rested his head in his palm, observing the two boys blankly. "Boruto. Where you from?"

Boruto swallowed. He felt like he was being scolded, Iruka's tone sharp and cold. Accusatory. "Konoha," he answered honestly. It was true, and it's what he told Dad. The look he was getting warned him that answering carelessly would lead to bad things, though, and he knew he had to double down on his answer. "I was born here, at least. I've been living in—" It was a stretch, but, "—Suna for a while now. I just… thought it was time to get back to my roots, y'know?"

Iruka gave him a side-long stare. "Coming all the way from the Hidden Sand, eh? Where are your parents?"

"I don't have parents." He stared into his bowl, unable to meet the eyes of the two seated to his right. That felt dirty to say, even if he deemed it a necessary evil. Staring so fixedly at his half-eaten ramen, he couldn't see the look his father wore. "They, uh… died. Long time ago."

"Then where are you staying?"

He shrugged and ducked his head in some vain attempt to escape confrontation. "I'll find a place."

A loud thud interrupted the interrogation. Naruto rose, slamming his hands down on the bartop. Everyone went quiet as the boy stared fixedly at Boruto. For a moment, Boruto worried he'd offended his father—and felt equally shamed for lying about being orphaned.

Iruka was the first to break through the awkward stillness. "Naruto? Something wrong?"

"I, uh." Naruto's lips twitched and curled into a grin. "Hey, hey, you can stay at my place, y'know!"

Boruto blinked. "What?"

"I got plenty o' room! C'mon, beats sleeping outside, right? Right?"

Iruka shifted, placing a hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Naruto," he sighed, "I don't think—"

"Ack!" His noise of alarm startled them. Naruto combed a hand through his hair. "Everything's a mess back there. I uh—hey, stay right here! I'll be right back, y'know!"

Naruto never gave them a chance to respond. One moment he was there, making a scene out of himself, and the next he was running off into the shadows of night. Suddenly it was quiet. Boruto's bowl was still half full and no longer steaming. When he took his next bite, the noodles were cold.

Iruka twisted around and faced forward when his order was set before him. He passed a word of thanks, broke his chopsticks, and blew on the noodles. "Look," he started, swallowing back his first bite, "I don't know who you are, nor do I pretend to understand what it is that you're doing. What I do know is that Naruto isn't usually like this."

Boruto gulped, pushing away his bowl.

"He's not one to latch onto strangers so easily," Iruka continued softly, side-eyeing the genin by his side. "Naruto has always been alone. You've noticed it, too, right? The looks that he gets."

Boruto leaned forward on the bar, maintaining a thin veil of disinterest as his stomach knotted. As they walked through the streets from the school to the ramen bar, his father yammering on about his team—about how annoying Sasuke was—he caught the stares. The whispers. Even before that, when he was making his way through Konoha alone, he was getting looks like that himself. At first, he wondered if it could be because of how confused he looked. Now he was starting to think that it was because… he looked like Naruto. Looked like his father.

"He may not realize it himself, but he's hesitant to attach himself to others. So I'm surprised he's taken such a shine to you."

"Why?"

Iruka blinked. "Well, because—"

"Why's everyone lookin' at him like that?" Boruto clasped his hands together, trying to overlap the image of the lonely child with the one of beloved Lord Seventh.

"I can't say," Iruka muttered, his fingers intertwined below his chin. "What I can say is that Naruto is someone important to this village. I hope for your sake that, whoever you are, you haven't approached him with ill intent."

The bodies wandering the streets had thinned out considerably by the time Naruto came to retrieve him. Even still, he caught a few of those looks—curled lips, narrowed eyes, the kind of looks you'd expect to give to someone who personally wronged you. No one ever looked at the Hokage like that.

Naruto was yammering on about something unimportant, his arms cushioning his head as he walked a few steps ahead, leading Boruto to drag his feet with his hands in his pockets. He tried not to look around, tried to ignore the looks like his father seemed so practiced at doing, when his father spun around with one of those big, goofy smiles on his face.

"I mean, he'll never beat me, but I'll bet Konohamaru will be a great ninja one day, y'know?" There was no answer, so he just made to continue. "It's too bad, though, 'cause I'm the one who's gonna be Hokage."

Boruto's dragging feet halted then. It took a while for his chatty companion to take notice, widening the gap between them.

Naruto raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

The street was empty. As they left the hub of the village and turned on to residential streets, the people started to filter out. They were alone now save for a stray dog rummaging through trash cans in the alley to the left, but what Iruka said to him was still ringing in his ears, nagging at his thoughts. "Why are you acting like it doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"The way people look at you," Boruto bit out, hunching his shoulders. "How can you just—pretend you don't see it?"

Understanding dawned on Naruto's face and his smile slid askew. He turned back around and kept on walking, his pace slow until he heard the scuff of a second pair of footsteps following his and regained the confidence to pick up speed. "I hate it," he confessed. "But it's okay. When I'm the Hokage, they'll have to respect me, y'know?"

Boruto stared at his father's back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"So, I'm gonna prove myself. To the whole world if I have to!"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Stupid old man.

Hiruzen was in his office, smoking his pipe as he stared out at the pile of finished paperwork he'd set aside on his desk. The night was long and he was content in knowing that, come morning, he would be just a little ahead, rather than behind. It was so very easy to fall behind, especially on days when Naruto decided to wreak his usual havoc, sending half of Hiruzen's staff into an unnecessary panic over his trivial mischief.

Before he could retire for the night, there was a knock at his door. Now Iruka Umino stood in his doorway, approached his desk, and he had a sinking suspicion that he wouldn't be returning home just yet.

"You had something to report," he prodded, his fingers intertwined atop his desk.

"Yes, Lord Third. It's…" Iruka sighed, scratching his head. "Maybe I'm overreacting. No, maybe I'm not. It just—something feels off, and I wanted to let you know."

"Out with it."

Iruka took a breath. "When I went to meet Naruto tonight, he was with someone. A boy, one that looked just like him, claiming to be a Konoha genin. Boruto. That's what he went by."

Hiruzen's brow furrowed, trying to put a face to the name.

"He claims that he's just moved here from Suna," Iruka continued. "That he was born here, but grew up there."

He leaned back in his chair, removed the pipe from his mouth and tapped the side of it absently as he thought. "I'll double check our records, but I don't think we'll find a match."

"Neither do I."

The Hokage sighed and closed his eyes. He understood Iruka's fears; if this boy was lying, then who was to say he wasn't a spy from one of the other villages, trying to get close to their jinchuuriki, or worse? Hiruzen was a cautious man, but he wasn't fond of jumping to conclusions. Even if the boy was a liar, that didn't necessarily mean that he was an enemy.

Caution was always a good thing to have, though.

"I'll have Kakashi look into the matter," he assured. "If the boy's interest lies with Naruto then it's best to inform his team leader."

"Right. Thank you, Lord Third. I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night."

Hiruzen waved him off. "Not at all. It comes with the job."

Iruka smiled with visible relief and bowed his head. "Goodnight, then."

The door slid shut and Hiruzen sighed. He would be here a while longer, it seemed.

Boruto's father lived in an apartment, some little hole-in-the-wall the Third must have shoved him in when he was old enough to be on his own. Naruto opened the door to the cramped bachelor he called home. The living space was made up of one single room. There was a bathroom off to the side, but everything else from bed to kitchen counter was shoved against one of the four walls. It was clean—he expected as much, with how his father ran off to organize his mess back at the ramen bar—but there was a distinct smell looming in the air that he couldn't place. It wasn't bad, really, just… off. Not quite right, and a bit in-your-face.

Put like that, maybe it suited this version of Dad.

Naruto hurried him inside and shut the door behind them, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "C'mon in!"

Boruto stood awkwardly in the doorway. The apartment was missing a lot of the personal effects that made a home. Sure there were a few posters on the walls, but there was nothing intimate about it. Back home, Boruto had his comics and his games. Action figures. Things that he liked.

What did Dad like?

Looking around… Ramen. He liked ramen. Some things never changed.

"Don't just stand there!"

Boruto rolled his eyes and took his shoes off at the door, even though he noticed his father clearly hadn't. He shuffled into the room with thinly veiled curiosity and lowered himself onto one of the chairs set at the kitchen table. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink, perhaps from a night or two of laziness, but all-up it wasn't that bad.

Twisting back around, there was Naruto's face again, in all its grinning glory. Waiting for him to say something.

"It's," he started, then paused as he wracked his brain for the right words, and stopped. Thought. Boruto didn't usually put this much care into his phrasing. "You live here all by yourself?"

The grin momentarily faltered, Naruto's legs crossed beneath him. "Yeah. Don't you live alone? Your parents are gone."

Aw, damn, he did say something like that, didn't he? And now he was just digging his grave by building up the lie. "I lived in communal housing," he supplied, feeling the pinch of guilt as he did so. "So, it… yeah. It's different, I guess."

"Oh." Naruto nodded, eyes closed and arms folded. "But now?"

"Alone," he confirmed, and drew his leg up to his chest, resting his foot on the seat of the chair. "Same as you."

"Why come here, then?"

"Uh…"

"You don't got anywhere to stay, right? Least there you had that… communal thing."

Boruto mentally backpedaled and laughed, humourless and forced, running a hand through his hair. The more he built up the lie, the weaker it got, huh? Damn, he was bad at this. It was a wonder how his father was still taking what he said at face value. "I didn't really think this through, did I? I mean…" The last dregs of fading laughter left him. "I just… wanted to go home. I didn't think about the rest."

It took a moment for him to realize that wasn't a lie. Once he had, he couldn't stop.

"I didn't think it'd matter," he continued. "I thought I'd find them here. But… I didn't. There's nothing here and no matter how hard I look it's not home. And now I'm here, in the middle off all… this. Probably screwing everything up."

He pried himself out of his ball of grief to see his father staring at him from the bed. He hurriedly covered his eyes with his sleeve, scrubbing away the film of water blurring his vision.

"Damn it," he bit out. "This is so uncool."

Boruto continued to hide behind his arms, soaking up the silence like a sponge as he composed himself. Here he was, cracking under the pressure of being left on his own for just half a day. How lame. He thought his dad would say something, maybe pry a little deeper. He heard shuffling, the clack of sandalled feet against the floorboards, first from ahead of him and then from his side. Movement near the fridge, the scrape of chair legs against wood. Then, some time later, the whistle of steam from a kettle.

Boruto lifted his head from his arms, observing as Naruto slid a cup of steaming tea before him. Boruto was never much of a tea drinker, but Mom was.

Dad didn't come home one night. That was nothing new; Dad rarely ever did. He was too busy being there for the rest of the village to be there for his son. Boruto stupidly thought that night would be different, though, so he waited at the kitchen table even long after Himawari was sent to bed with a slightly crumpled piece of paper set before him. The night held with it an eager energy as he doodled in his notebook, passing the hours until his dad would step through the front door, when he could present him with the letter personally.

Dad never came.

The overhead light in the kitchen broke through the blackness of the night as it creeped near and Boruto hung his head, his body crumbled over the letter. He hadn't moved when his mother entered, or when she set a fresh cup of tea and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Boruto. I know how important this was to you."

"It doesn't matter. Old man wouldn't care much, anyway."

He wanted to be the one to tell Dad that he was assigned to Konohamaru's team, though.

Boruto stared at his reflection in the tea, smoothing his fingertip around the rim of the cup, and took a sip. The tea leaves were old; it hardly held any flavour. Something tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Stupid old man.

Naruto sat across from him, holding his head in his hand with that goofy grin Boruto was coming to find so familiar. "I dunno about all that crap you're talking about. But you can stay here awhile, y'know. I don't care."

And despite it all, he still couldn't swallow his pride long enough for a 'thank you'.

Boruto was tired. That wasn't surprising; it was the middle of the night and he'd travelled to and from the Hidden Time during the day. And boy, had he gotten a workout. It was hard to remember a time where he did that much running around. The latter half of the day may have been more physically subdued, but the mental strain wasn't pretty, either. But even despite that, he shouldn't be this tired. And yet he couldn't sleep.

Dad was over on the bed, snoring away. He left about two hours ago with a panicked, "Crap! I forgot to ask Iruka-sensei for a spare futon! Uhh—wait here, I'll be right back!"

And he waited. Poked around a bit, found that the fridge was empty save a carton of spoilt milk and the cupboards stocked with instant ramen. Before long, Naruto was back, they set up the futon, and the lights went out.

Boruto rolled onto his back and swept the back of his hand across his forehead. He felt hot and chilled all at once, unsure if he should pull up the blanket or kick it off. He looked to the window, the full moon bleeding down a pale light from where it hung in the sky, and then he looked down. An arm and leg were dangling off the side of the bed, leading him to snort. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath. Held it. Then released.

I'm hungry.

His mouth twitched. A foreign thought invaded his mind, wordless yet clear with its intent, and he groaned. Eating could wait for morning; if he didn't sleep now he'd have no energy by dawn, and he'd already made up his mind to investigate what happened once Naruto was off with his team doing missions.

So hungry.

With no will of his own, he picked himself up off the floor. Bare feet padded across the futon and came to a stop at Naruto's bedside, looming over him.

Wait, what?

No matter what he tried, Boruto couldn't get his body to listen to him, as though he were locked inside. His arm raised, shadowing his father's face.

Naruto stirred with a groan and a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked blearily up at his guest. "Somethin' wrong?"

Boruto leaned in, his palm lying flat on his father's chest.

Naruto choked.

All at once his exhaustion was swept away by an overwhelming energy, a vibrant flourish of concentrated power seeping into his core through his palm so fast that it burned. His skin lit up in a glow of blue-white markings, their shape organic and changing and achingly familiar. He watched as his father's eyes widened and then glazed with a familiar exhaustion.

He remembered the Hokage, a figure of unrivalled strength, sitting in his office with tired eyes.

Boruto pulled away, breathless and frenzied as this strange new energy rippled beneath his skin. His right hand latched onto his left wrist in some vain attempt at quelling the quiver of his arm. From the fading glow, black ink splashed across his skin in twisting markings that coiled up to his shoulder. And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

"The heck is…" No, that wasn't important. Not now. His attention snapped to Naruto, now lying limp on the bed with half-lidded eyes. Eyes that were looking at him.

Chakra. That energy was chakra he was feeling—his father's chakra.

So so hungry…

Like a pulse, the feeling was back. Boruto went rigid, stumbling back and away from his father as the voice beckoned him to try again. I'm still hungry, it relayed to him. It has been so, so long.

Looking at how drained his father was, how could he?

Boruto buried the urge deep within him and ran, flinging open the door with force just short of tearing it from the hinges. He took to the streets in hope that putting distance between himself and the—the voice, or curse, or whatever it was—the thing's target would quiet the white noise buzzing in his head. It didn't. The moment he flung himself through the door, he felt it—dozens, hundreds of sources of chakra just waiting to be devoured. People sleeping in their homes. Shinobi guarding the village perimeter. He ran and ran and ran and ran and it wouldn't go away.

He ran until he was no longer within the Hidden Leaf, until Konoha's walls were nary a speck through the trees, until the voice inside faded out and the pull to collect was nothing more than a burning memory.

Lord Seventh sat at his desk with his robe hanging half off his shoulders. He yawned behind stacks of untouched paperwork and watched with shadowed eyes as his son's team leader flung open the door and stormed inside. Konohamaru usually had more tact than that.

"Lord Seventh—"

Naruto straightened his back, forced himself to create some sense of formality. He knew Konohamaru wouldn't care, wouldn't even bat an eye if he were found dead asleep in there, but maintaining the image of the Hokage was also a part of his job. The least that he could do was push his exhaustion aside to hear the man out.

Naruto folded his hands, one over the other. "Konohamaru," he breathed. "I'm surprised you're back so soon. Did something happen with the scroll?"

"It—it's not that, Lord Seventh," he stated gravely, with a quavering voice. Konohamaru steadied himself, took in a breath and steeled his nerves. "It's Boruto. He—he vanished from the excavation site. We've been searching for hours but—"

He licked his lips, mouth dry and throat parched.

"I… I think something happened," he confessed in a barely audible murmur. "It's not like him. He may be a brat at times—most times—but he would never just walk away from a mission like that. And without a word? No. That's not Boruto."

Naruto's gaze fell to all of the paperwork still left at the end of the night and he rose from his seat, closing the distance between them. Konohamaru shifted beneath his stare. There was a quick, half thought out hand sign and a moment later there was a shadow clone seated at his desk in his stead.

He smiled, tired and worn, and placed a hand on Konohamaru's shoulder. "Let's go find him, then."

Even in times of uncertainty, Naruto had to remain the unending symbol of confidence. He smiled, because that smile was all he could give.

Hope you enjoyed! I'd like to keep a schedule for updates but haven't yet decided on one. I'll likely update every 1-2 weeks, depending on work, interest in the story, and how much free time I'm able to scrounge up. Let me know what you think so far. Until next time!

Adieu~