Even though it wasn’t scientifically proven, Boruto was fairly sure that recklessness was hereditary.
Just look at him and his sister. And then look at their father.
It wasn’t often that he could be so self-aware and forthcoming about his own lackings, but Boruto supposed there was something about being stabbed in the gut with a poisoned blade that tended to make one more honest about certain things.
(A predicament which was entirely due to his recklessness and his inability to see Sarada in pain)
“You’re such a fucking idiot , Boruto. Fucking idiot.”
He managed a small smile. Given how many times she had said it since he went down, he was fairly sure that chanting “fucking idiot” over and over again had to be a part of some super-effective healing ritual. And between coughing up blood and groaning in pain, he told her just as much.
“Shut up! You shut up! Don’t…just don’t say anything.”
It was bad. He didn’t need to be a medic to know that much. He could see it in her eyes and in the way her entire body was shaking as she tried to pour whatever chakra she had left (which was barely anything) into patching him up. He could feel it, too, because he was starting to lose feelings in his fingers and toes, and that seemed…well, bad.
Was this the day he was going to die? He didn’t know for sure. He had faith in Sarada’s ability. Contrary to what she was probably thinking, he had thought things through when he had taken that blade for her. Between the two of them, he was much more likely to survive purely because she was much, much better than him at healing and making miracles happen.
It was what Shikadai often called a calculated risk. And it had paid off, for the most part.
He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the blade was poisoned, though. So just in case things didn’t work out the way he wanted them to, there was something he needed her to know.
“Sarada…”
She threw him a fierce glare. “I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”
He managed another smile. “Yeah…you can…hit me later. But there’s something….I need to…ask you.”
“What?” she snapped waspishly, but her anger didn’t phase him in the least, because he knew it wasn’t really anger that she felt.
“Will you…marry me?” There, he said it. He had asked her to marry him. He knew his timing was terrible. They were in the middle of the forest and there was a gaping hold in his stomach. He had no ring (not here, anyway), no nice setting, absolutely nothing to convince her that she should say yes.
But at least he had said it. The idea had floated around his mind for more than a year now, and he had finally said it aloud. That had to count for something, right?
It took her almost a minute to register what he had said. And when the question sunk in, her glare was back in full force. “You’re such a fucking idiot , Boruto!”
Well, that wasn’t quite the reaction he was hoping for. But considering the circumstances, he supposed it was only fair.
“No, I won’t marry you.”
Surprise (and panic) hit him like a wrecking ball. He would have loved to jump up and start demanding why the hell she was saying no when he knew she loved him, but looking at her in disbelief was about all he managed to do in his state.
“Sarada…”
“I mean it, Boruto,” she said through gritted teeth. “I only marry healthy men, and you’re about the furthest thing away from healthy right now.”
His panic was gone in an instant. So that was what this was about.
“Propose to me again when you’ve recovered, and we’ll see what happens.”
Well, Boruto was never one to shy away from a challenge. If a healthy man was what Sarada wanted, then a healthy man she would get.
After all, who was he to deny her what she wanted?
Fin.