Arranged Disaster

Shigeru stepped out of the hotel. The village was just waking up, and the first rays of sunlight were casting a soft, golden hue over the cobblestone streets. Shigeru had visited Konoha many times before, but this was different. This time, he wasn’t just a passing visitor. He’d spent several days here, more than usual, and there was something about the place—the way it thrummed with life, even at this early hour—that made him feel oddly disconnected yet deeply anchored at once.

His footsteps echoed in the empty streets as he began his morning stroll, the rhythmic tapping of his polished shoes against the stone a steady companion. The shops were slowly opening their doors, the scent of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee mingling with the cool morning air. Shigeru’s eyes drifted over the various storefronts, but none of the trinkets or souvenirs caught his eye. He wasn’t here to shop. No, he was searching for something more elusive—a small token, perhaps, but nothing so trivial as a souvenir.

As he walked, his gaze was drawn to a modest shop nestled between two larger buildings. Outside, a collection of wind chimes swayed gently in the breeze, their soft, tinkling sounds mingling with the rustle of leaves. One chime in particular caught his eye: a delicate ceramic piece with intricate floral patterns, he was fond of florals, paired with wooden charms and colorful beads. He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. It wasn’t much, but it reminded him of home—calm and peaceful. Without overthinking it, he stepped inside and purchased the wind chime, carefully tucking the neatly wrapped package into his cloth bag before resuming his walk.

His thoughts wandered back to Mei, his youngest. She had remained at the hotel for the entire duration of their stay, shutting herself away in that quiet space of hers, unwilling to engage with anything or anyone here. She wasn’t shy, nor was she disinterested—he knew her better than that. But she had always had a tendency to retreat, to stand apart from the world around her. In a way, it reminded him of her late mother—quiet, introspective, with a sharp mind and an even sharper sense of independence. Mei’s solitude wasn’t a concern. She was a reflection of herself, a trait he respected, if only because he understood it so well.

Shigeru was accustomed to solitude himself. It was the nature of his work, the demands of business, the endless deals that had kept him on the move for years. His relationships with his daughters had, over time, become something of an afterthought. Not because he didn’t care, but because there had always been something more pressing, something more important. He had sacrificed time with them in the name of providing, in the name of security. They were strong girls, both of them. They understood what needed to be done.

And Miho… well, Miho had taken on more than a daughter ever should. She had been his anchor when he was adrift, had stepped into the role of head of the house when he was too caught up in his own pursuits to fulfill it himself. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed—he had, but Miho’s strength had always been a comfort, a reassurance. She was capable. That had been enough.

Shigeru let the thought linger for a moment, the faintest trace of appreciation crossing his mind. He had no regrets. Not really. He had made the choices that needed to be made, and he had done so with the certainty that they were for their future, for their stability. He had built everything they had on the foundation of those decisions. But he also knew that Miho had borne the brunt of it all. She had done so without question, without complaint. The weight of responsibility had rested on her shoulders, and she had carried it with a grace he hadn’t expected from someone so young.

Still, it was what had to be done. He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. There was too much at stake. He had to ensure that they were set up for the future—secure, comfortable. A legacy, something to pass on, something to protect them long after he was gone. He could already feel the passing of time in the quiet aches of his body, the subtle signs of his sickness that couldn’t be ignored any longer. But he wasn’t worried. He had always been a man who made sure everything was in place before it was needed. This time would be no different.

Perhaps Mei would come around, in time. She was a bit like her mother in that regard—slow to show her hand, slow to reveal what she truly thought. But he knew her well enough to understand that she would find her way, just as Miho had. It was only a matter of time.

Shigeru’s pace slowed as he neared the end of the street turning around the corner, deep in his thoughts. He still had a lot to do, and he was running out of time. He needed to make sure everything went well, that everything was perfect, everything—

“Oof!”

A sudden voice rang out—a startled yelp—as Shigeru barely had the time to register the blur of motion heading straight for him. Before he could react, the figure slammed into his chest with surprising force, the impact knocking the breath out of him as he stumbled back a few steps. The other person, however, wasn’t as fortunate. With a loud thud, they landed flat on the ground. Shigeru’s eyes flicked down, taking in the young girl who now sat on the ground, rubbing her forehead and wincing slightly. His gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks and the distinct whisker-like marks framing her face. 

Himawari Uzumaki, he recognized.

Her eyes widened as she scrambled to her feet, brushing off the dust from her clothes in a whirlwind of energy. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention—are you okay?” Her words tumbled out in a rush, and before he could respond, she was circling him like a concerned bee. “I didn’t mean to bump into you! I was just in such a hurry, and I wasn’t looking, and—” Shigeru raised a hand, his expression calm but firm, halting her barrage of apologies. "Young lady, you need to calm down."

“Hmm,” she muttered completely ignoring him, she paused briefly in front of him and squinting up at his face. “You don’t look hurt... but what if you’re just hiding it? Grown-ups do that, right? Are you dizzy? How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up two fingers in front of his nose, then waved them slightly for emphasis.

“I assure you, I’m quite intact,” Shigeru replied baffled, his tone steady and his expression unreadable. He resisted the urge to sigh as she continued her inspection, even going so far as to tug at the edge of his sleeve.

“You sure? No broken ribs? No bruises? You look kinda stiff.”

“That’s just how I stand.”

“Oh,” she said, her tone indicating she absolutely did not believe him. “Okay, but if you start feeling weird, just let me know, okay? I can totally take you to the hospital!”

Shigeru pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “And quite capable of seeking medical attention should the need arise.” He said evenly, his deep voice cutting through her rapid chatter. “Are you all right?” He asked instead.

“Oh, me? Yeah, totally fine!” Himawari replied, waving off the concern with a bright smile. “This happens all the time—well, not all the time, but sometimes. You know, running into people when I’m in a rush.” She laughed nervously, then tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. “Wait, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you new here? Visiting the village?”

Shigeru considered her question for a moment, his usual guarded demeanor returning. “Something like that,” he replied vaguely, not offering any more detail than necessary.

“Wow, that’s so cool!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Are you sightseeing? Have you already visited the Hokage Rock? Or the market? Oh, oh! Did you try the taiyaki here? It’s amazing—the best you’ll ever have!”

Before Shigeru could respond, her gaze darted downward, and her face paled. “Oh no! Did I break that?”

Shigeru followed her line of sight to the small wind chime he had been carrying, now lying on the ground in pieces. A sharp pang of irritation flickered across his expression before he quickly composed himself. How come he just now noticed it?

“I’m sorry!” Himawari blurted, her hands flying to her cheeks. “I’ll get you another one! I promise!”

“That’s not necessary,” Shigeru replied, his tone measured. He crouched down, carefully gathering the broken pieces into his hand. “It’s just a wind chime.”

“But—” Himawari started, her voice laden with guilt. She bit her lip, clearly struggling to think of a way to make amends. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Okay, if I can’t replace it, then how about this? Let me treat you to some taiyaki! It’s amazing, and it’s the least I can do for breaking your wind chime!”

Shigeru straightened up, shaking his head slightly. “That’s not necessary either.”

“But I insist!” Himawari grinned, her determination shining through. Before he could protest further, she grabbed his wrist and started tugging him toward a nearby food stall. “Come on, you’re gonna love it. My treat!” Shigeru allowed himself to be led, his towering presence and measured pace a stark contrast to Himawari’s bubbly energy. “You don’t have to go out of your way,” he said, his voice steady.

“I want to,” she replied cheerfully, glancing back at him. “Consider it my official apology. Besides, everyone who comes to the village has to try this. It’s practically a rule.”

Shigeru sighed quietly, letting the girl’s infectious enthusiasm take the lead. For now, he decided, it was simpler to go along with her than to argue. And despite himself, he found her spirited personality oddly amusing, even if it was entirely opposite to his own, much like her father. Himawari led Shigeru through the bustling streets, her energy contagious as she filled the air with excitement.

“Konoha’s the best! There’s always something happening here. Have you seen the Hokage Rock? The faces of all the Hokages are carved into the mountain! It’s amazing, and my dad’s face is up there too. He’s the Seventh Hokage, you know?” Shigeru raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity, as if that was the first time he had heard about it. “A Hokage, huh? That must be a pretty big deal around here.”

“Oh, it totally is!” Himawari’s face lit up with pride. “He’s always working, always thinking about the village. But even when he’s busy, he makes time for me and Mom. It means the world to me. Having a dad who’s Hokage is pretty cool.” Shigeru nodded, his voice casual. “Must be tough with all those responsibilities.”

“Yeah, it’s hard sometimes,” she admitted. “But no matter what, he always shows us he cares. He’s the best Hokage—and the best dad.” Shigeru’s gaze softened slightly. “Sounds like you understand the weight of his position.”

“I do,” Himawari said, nodding eagerly. “It’s not easy, but he handles it so well. Always making tough choices for the village. That’s why he’s such a great leader.” Shigeru paused, then asked, “So, do you ever get to see him in action?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve been to meetings with him, seen him in his office with all the reports. It’s pretty impressive. But when he’s done, we’ll go out to get dinner or watch the sunset. That’s how he unwinds.” Shigeru offered a small smile, considering her words. “Sounds like a pretty special connection.” “Oh, for sure! He’s always there for me,” Himawari said with a grin.

As they approached the taiyaki shop, Shigeru glanced at Himawari. “You were in quite a rush earlier. Why was that?” Himawari's bright demeanor didn't falter, but there was a slight hesitation in her eyes. “I was meeting up with some friends at our usual spot... for something important.”

Shigeru’s gaze lingered on her, intrigued but calm. “Important, you say? What kind of important?”

Himawari hesitated again, clearly weighing her words carefully. “It’s... something to help my brother. He doesn’t even know about it, but I’m trying to protect him from something that he probably doesn’t even realize is going on.”  Shigeru’s expression remained neutral, though there was a hint of interest in his tone. Protect him from something he doesn’t know about? '"That sounds like quite a responsibility. Does he understand the danger you’re trying to shield him from?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Himawari replied quickly, a hint of protectiveness in her voice. “I’d rather keep it that way. He’s already got enough on his plate.”

Shigeru’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, and he studied her carefully. If it concerned Boruto, he was interested in knowing what was going on, but it wasn't his place to pry into their family business, at least not yet. He decided to shift the subject instead.

“You’re very protective of him. How is he, your brother? What kind of person is he, to inspire such devotion from you?”

Himawari’s face softened at the mention of her brother, and a gentle smile played on her lips. “He’s... complicated. Always gets into trouble, but somehow, he always ends up taking care of me. More often than not, it’s him looking out for me, even more than my dad or mom.” Shigeru’s expression remained composed, but his curiosity deepened. “I see. Sounds like he’s someone who can be relied upon, even if his methods aren’t always conventional.”

Himawari chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. But even when things get chaotic, I know he has my back. I guess... I guess that’s why I feel so strongly about protecting him! He’s always there when it matters, even if he doesn’t know it.”

Shigeru nodded slowly, his tone thoughtful. “Family often brings out the strongest emotions in us. Even in the most difficult of situations, they always stand beside us.”He said as they entered the stall, observing as Himawari placed their order before smiling.

"It seems like your brother is a really good guy after all," Shigeru murmured, more to himself than to her. He had already heard enough about Boruto from other sources, but hearing it from his sister directly carried a certain sincerity that struck a chord. It only solidified his already firm confidence in the young man. This encounter, brief though it was, had warmed his heart—he found himself fonder of both siblings with every passing moment.

Himawari returned with two neatly wrapped packages, handing one to Shigeru. “I think you’ll love this flavor,” she said, her voice light as she unwrapped hers. She bit into the warm taiyaki, her face lighting up with delight. “Mmm! It’s so good!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm so genuine it could have made anyone smile.

Shigeru, however, didn’t unwrap his. He held it in his hands, his gaze distant, not out of disinterest but because he was preoccupied with a thought weighing heavily on his mind. He looked up at the sky, noticing how the sun was fading behind a growing shroud of clouds. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the first drops seemed imminent.

“Tell me,” he began, his tone softer, more reflective now. “If someone you cared about had to make a difficult choice… one they might not want to make, but one they felt was necessary for the good of everyone around them… what do you think they should do?” Himawari paused mid-bite, the question catching her off guard. She lowered her taiyaki, her expression turning thoughtful. For a moment, she seemed far older than her years, the carefree energy replaced by a quiet maturity.

“I don’t think anyone should be forced into something they don’t want,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Even if it helps others, it’s their choice to make. But if it’s someone close to me… I wouldn’t want them to feel like they have to bear it all on their own.”  

Shigeru regarded her silently, the rain beginning to dot his shoulders.  

Himawari continued, her tone quieter now. “I’d tell them it’s okay to think about themselves, too. Tough choices aren’t supposed to mean giving up everything for someone else. There has to be a way to help without losing yourself in the process. That’s what I’d want for them.”   she said confidently, sure of every word.

For a moment, Shigeru didn’t respond. The rain fell steadily now, soft but persistent. He finally gave her a small nod, his tone thoughtful. “That’s a good way to look at it." Was all he said.

Himawari smiled faintly, brushing a raindrop off her sleeve. “I think my brother would say the same thing, honestly. He’d never let anyone carry something like that alone.”  Shigeru’s eyes widened a bit before his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Your brother… he’s lucky to have you. It’s rare to have someone who thinks about these things the way you do.”  

She blinked at him, a little surprised by the comment but grateful nonetheless. “Thank you. That means a lot!”  

As the rain picked up, she adjusted the taiyaki in her hands and glanced upward. “It’s really starting to come down. I should probably get going before it gets too heavy.”  Shigeru’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. Then, with a faint smile, he said, “Himawari, take care of him, won’t you? The choices ahead… well, let’s just say, they’ll shape a lot more than he might realize.”  

There was something in his tone—something careful, deliberate, and layered with meaning. Himawari tilted her head slightly, puzzled by his words, but before she could respond, Shigeru gave a small bow of farewell and turned away, his figure fading into the rain.

.....................................................................................................................................................

Sarada stared at the open door of her house. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning everything outside into a gray, blurry mess. The weather wasn’t cold, but the humidity clung to her like a bad decision, making her already sour mood even worse.

“She’s not here yet?” Shikadai’s voice broke through her fuming silence as he stepped into the room, looking as calm as ever despite the throbbing bruise on his cheek. Sarada didn’t bother answering. Her expression alone screamed “no.” Shikadai sighed. “Man, how do all the Uzumaki kids manage to drive you up the wall like this? It’s almost impressive.” He pressed the ice pack closer to his red, swollen cheek and winced. “By the way, got any more ice? I think my left side’s officially retired.”“

Sarada glanced at him briefly, then at his cheek, and rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic,” she muttered, walking to the kitchen.

Shikadai raised a brow. “Dramatic?” Shikadai followed her, limping a little for good measure. "You punched me, Sarada. And not just a little tap—no, you hit me so hard I almost took up permanent residence in your neighbor’s yard. That’s not normal behavior.”

“I already said I was sorry!” Sarada called over her shoulder, yanking open the freezer. She grabbed another ice bag, looked back at his face then grabbed 2 more and tossed them toward him with enough force that he barely caught it. “I was aiming for the door. You’re the one who decided to stand right behind it like an idiot. And it's not like I broke any bones.”

Shikadai raised an eyebrow at that, pressing the ice bag to his cheek. “Says the person who could probably bench-press a building. Your punches aren’t normal, Sarada. My ancestors felt that hit.” He said glancing toward the living room, where the rest of the gang—Chocho, Mitsuki, Inojin, and Iwabe—was pretending to behave. Pretending. In reality, Inojin and Iwabe were doubled over in silent laughter, trying not to make it obvious.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Shikadai rolled his eyes and slouched back. “If I hear one more snicker, somebody is going through that door next.”

Sarada shot him a withering look but said nothing. She didn’t need to—her face alone screamed ‘I’m surrounded by idiots.’ Shikadai slumped into a chair, still holding the ice bag like a lifeline. How did he manage to ruin his day this much? Earlier, Himawari had flat-out refused to let him tag along, calling him a “creepy babysitter with no life.” That stung. Did he deserve it? Probably. But still. He sighed, muttering, “Should’ve stayed in bed.”

Sarada finally exhaled, a long, suffering sigh. “Mom had to run some ‘important errands,’” she said, making air quotes so big they could’ve been seen from space. “I know exactly where she went, but whatever.” She’d smiled sweetly as her mother left, then immediately punched the door after it closed.  Shikadai had been lurking on the second-floor railing, waiting for Sakura to leave, when Sarada’s fist came flying through the door like a demolition crew. He hadn’t even had time to scream before the impact sent him flying backward.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and both of them froze. Sarada sighed loudly, already annoyed. “If that’s Himawari, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind for being this late.” “Yeah, please don’t actually punch her,” Shikadai muttered, holding up his ice bag. “Not all of us can tank hits like her.”

Sarada ignored him and stomped toward the door, swinging it open to reveal—not Himawari, but Kawaki, looking as grouchy as ever, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair was dripping wet, and he looked less like a guy who had been caught in the rain and more like a cat forced into a bath.

“You,” Sarada growled, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you have ‘other work’ to do?” she said referring to him getting his waitor outfit from the rental shop. He was the only one who had waited till the very last moment for it, probably asking the heavens to get him out of it.

Kawaki shrugged, unfazed by her glare. “I wrapped it up early. Figured I’d check on the little princess to make sure she didn’t get herself into trouble.”

Shikadai, still nursing his cheek, snorted. “Too late for that. Sarada’s already broken my face. You’re next, buddy.” Kawaki smirked, stepping inside as Sarada groaned and slammed the door shut behind him. “I meant Himawari but let me guess,” Kawaki said, glancing at Shikadai’s ice bag. “She got mad and you just happened to be in her line of fire?”

“Wow, look at you, Sherlock Holmes,” Shikadai replied dryly. “You cracked the case.”

“Shut up,” Sarada grumbled, storming back into the kitchen.

Kawaki followed, casually leaning against the counter as she yanked open the freezer to grab yet another ice bag. “So, where’s Himawari?” He asked casually following the duo to the living room where everyone else was sitting, hot chocolate in their hands and probably not a care in the world. What was this, a tea party?

“How should I know?” Sarada replied but did look a bit concerned although she didn't show it. “She’s the one who wanted to meet here in the first place.” Chocho added from the other side of the table. “Typical,” Kawaki muttered. “She probably got distracted by a butterfly or something.”

Inojin chuckled from the corner. “Or maybe she’s out there plotting her revenge for all the times Kawaki hovers over her like a mama hen.”

Kawaki shot him a glare. “I don’t hover.”

“You absolutely hover,” Inojin countered, grinning. “It’s almost impressive how much you hover. I mean, you’re practically her shadow,” he said. “Yeah, well, maybe if she didn’t have a habit of running headfirst into danger, I wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her,” Kawaki retorted.

“Or maybe,” Sarada cut in, “you should give her some space and stop acting like a parent. You’re not that old, you know.”

“Tell that to my back,” Kawaki muttered under his breath, rubbing his neck.

Before the argument could escalate further, the doorbell rang again. This time, Sarada practically sprinted to the door, throwing it open to reveal a very apologetic-looking Himawari. “Sorry I’m late!” Himawari exclaimed, her hair a tangled mess from the rain. “I got caught up—”

“Save it,” Sarada interrupted, stepping aside to let her in. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Himawari blinked at Shikadai’s bruised face and the tense atmosphere, then gave a sheepish smile. “Uh... did I miss something?”

“Just the usual,” Shikadai said with a sigh. Himawari giggled nervously as Kawaki muttered, “This is why I don’t leave her alone.” Sarada pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, enough. Let’s just get this over with before someone else ends up in the emergency room.” Everyone nodded, the tone shifting as the gravity of the situation started to settle in. 

“Agreed,” both Shikadai and Kawaki said in unison, their eyes meeting for a brief, silent acknowledgment. 

Himawari, having finally caught her breath, quickly explained her tardiness, but left out the unnecessary details. Sarada didn’t press her, knowing it was something she’d have to get used to. Just then, the room seemed to hold its breath as the atmosphere changed, the focus sharpening.

Shikadai cleared his throat, his voice suddenly more serious. “Are we ready?” he asked, looking at everyone in turn. “This is our one and only chance. Everything’s been set in motion.” The others, sensing the change in tone, quieted down. This wasn’t a simple mission—it was do or die. Or more like, do or your friend is dead.

“I’ve got the address from Denki,” Chocho chimed in, eyes focused. “Sumire and the others will meet us there directly.” 

Mitsuki nodded calmly. “One of my snakes has been keeping an eye on Hinata-san. She’s at the Uzumaki residence, getting ready to head out.”

Sarada raised an eyebrow. “Who else is there?”

Mitsuki closed his eyes for a brief moment, his focus extending beyond the room. “Ino-san, Hanabi-san, and a few others… I don’t recognize them. They seem like... friends.” Shikadai frowned. “What about the Hokage?” Iwabe cut in before Shikadai could finish. “Shouldn’t he be with them? Why isn’t he?”

Mitsuki paused again, his expression unchanged. “He wasn’t with them. One of my snakes spotted him sneaking into the Hokage office last night.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Sarada couldn’t quite place the weight of it all, but something didn’t feel right. Why would the Hokage sneak around like that? They didn’t have time to dwell on it, though.

“How many snakes did you send, Mitsuki?” Sarada asked, though a part of her already dreaded the answer. Mitsuki smiled, his usual calm demeanor undisturbed. “Fifteen, but Hinata-san discovered seven of them.”

The room went dead silent. 

“WHAT?!” everyone exclaimed, their voices a mix of disbelief and panic. Shikadai pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? Wouldn’t she be suspicious of us now?” Chocho jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with shock. “No way! Have we been found out?” The group erupted into a flurry of noise—each person voicing their concerns, assuming the worst. Mitsuki just sat there, unbothered, his calm demeanor only adding to the rising tension.

“She caught them,” he explained, his voice carrying over the noise, “but she released each one. No harm done.”

The room fell into stunned silence again. 

Sarada blinked, trying to process what Mitsuki had just said. Why would Aunt Hinata let them go? She didn’t know what to make of it. Something was off, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had bigger things to focus on. Shikadai broke the silence first, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Alright, we can’t afford to let our guard down. This is still risky, and we need to stay focused.”

Kawaki nodded, his usual aloofness replaced with something more intense. “Let’s get this done.” Himawari, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up with surprising confidence. “So, what’s next?”

Sarada took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. “Now, we stick to the plan. We meet up with Sumire and the others, and we make sure everything goes according to schedule. No more surprises. We can’t afford to mess this up.” With that, everyone gathered their things, ready to leave. The mood was a little lighter now, but the seriousness was still there. They all knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but they were in it together.

As the group filed out of the house, the rain continued to pour outside, but no one paid it much attention. The tension still hung in the air, but there was a sense of purpose now—a shared determination to see this through.

“We’ll be fine,” Sarada said under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. With that, they walked into the rain, ready to face whatever came next.

...........................................................................................................................................................................................

The Great Hall of the sprawling hotel was nothing short of breathtaking. The high ceilings, adorned with intricate golden chandeliers, shimmered as the soft glow of candlelight flickered across the vast, polished wooden dinner table that stretched the length of the room. The table, set for an extravagant dinner, was lined with crystal glasses and fine china. The heavy velvet curtains hung beside the towering windows, framing the gloomy weather outside, where the rain continued its unrelenting downpour. But inside, the atmosphere was warm, comfortable—a world apart from the storm outside.

Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his usual laid-back demeanor somehow amplified in the opulent setting. He looked across the table at Naruto, whose face was now a portrait of disbelief.

“Boruto sent a hawk to Shikadai?!” Naruto asked, his voice barely above a whisper-yell, his eyes wide in shock.

Shikamaru sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yeah, that’s what I said. He sent a hawk. Apparently, this one has a direct line to Shikadai. Talk about ‘family communications,’ huh?” He said. "And now he'll be back in the village at any minute."

Naruto’s jaw dropped lower, and he leaned forward, his hands resting on the table for support. “What’s next? Are they going to start sending smoke signals too?” he muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“You know the kids, they always find a way to complicate things,” Shikamaru smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at Naruto’s reaction.

Naruto groaned, running his hand through his hair. “Of course... the day I need things to go smoothly, my son decides to make an early visit. This is... cursed luck.” He dropped his head onto the table with a heavy thud, his voice muffled. "I'm so done."

In any other situation, Shikamaru would have laughed it all out but he felt pity for his friend and decided not to send an offhanded comment his way. "You'll be fine, we will settle things before he gets here. Probably" he added casually.

Just then, the grand doors to the Great Hall opened, and in walked Hinata, followed closely by Ino, Hanabi, and Sakura. The four women entered like a whirlwind of grace and elegance, their presence filling the room as they made their way toward the table. Naruto’s eyes softened at the sight of Hinata. She flashed him a gentle smile, but there was something in her gaze—a subtle, almost imperceptible glint—that sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t threatening; it was straight up lethal.

“Honey, we made it,” Hinata said softly as she took her seat beside him. Squeezing his hand, a little too tight , Naruto noticed but didn't dare to say anything.

Sakura smiled and leaned in, her voice teasing. “Congratulations, Naruto. You’re about to be the father-in-law!” She chuckled brimming with excitement and the other followed after. "Never thought yours would be the first one, but then again he takes after Hinata, he was bound to get more women than you." Ino said as Naruto shot her a glare. One of these days he would surely ban the Yamanaka from the village. He thought as his eyes drifted further beyond at Sai who was silently standing at the corner. just as their eyes met, he sent him a thumbs-up, smirking. Naruto could imagine himself walking their and kicking the bastard out of the wall.

"Kids grow up so fast, just yesterday we were all getting engaged and now look at us." Karui chuckled as the conversation continued. Naruto smiled reminiscing the past, his heart filling with warmth at the mention of their kids' childhood. He and Boruto had a special bond back when he was little, things did get bad in between but after the Otsutsuki fiasco their relationship had mended.

But he knew there was always something distant between them, with him still not being able to give as much time to his famiy. The more his son grew , the more this distance increased. They now shared a relationship of mutual respect but he knew he was never Boruto's first person for anything. If anyone, it would be Sasuke, and Naruto want complaining. He was gateful for his best friend taking in his son as a disciple and showing him the right path.

Naruto was anything but proud of his children. He was proud of his Boruto, he loved him to the damn universe and back and the last thing he would want is too see his son sacrificing even a single nail of his body, for any reason, if that was selfish and so be it. Which is why he couldn't bring himself to face Boruto before everything is fixed up. He would hate himself if he put Boruto in a complex situation, giving decisions to choose. Even if that costed him Shigeru's friendship he didn't care, he would come up with something different, and handle all the loses.

“Oi, Naruto!” Ino’s voice snapped him back to the present. “What are you zoning out for?”

Hinata’s hand squeezed his once again, this time more gently. She looked at him with those same concerned eyes, though she kept her silence. Naruto returned the look, offering a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She didn’t push it. She never did.

"Sorry," he muttered, clearing his throat. "I was just thinking... Anyway, everyone, there’s something I need to say." His voice shifted, becoming more serious. The room seemed to hold its breath as he rose from his seat. “I can't keep pretending anymore, and honestly, I don’t need to.” He could feel all eyes on him now, the weight of their attention pressing down on him.

A quiet murmur passed through the group. Shikadai raised an eyebrow, his expression wary. He exchanged a quick glance with Naruto, who nodded, giving him a silent signal that now was the time.

“What is it?” Sakura asked, her voice cool and casual, though her eyes betrayed her curiosity. She swirled her wine in its glass, her attention fully on him. Hinata inhaled sharply, her expression unreadable as Naruto stood. There was an air of finality in his movements, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface. “It’s about this.. proposal ordeal.” He said.

"I'm calling it off-"

“There you are!”

Naruto’s head snapped toward the source of the voice. Shigeru strode into the hall, his presence commanding, followed by his entourage. And there, standing beside him, was a beautiful girl. She looked young, probably about Boruto’s age, her eyes a bit wide with curiosity as she scanned the room.

The room seemed to freeze as Shigeru’s voice rang out. “I hope we’re not late.”

Naruto’s stomach clenched. The moment had arrived. And it was more complicated than he could have ever imagined.