No matter how much paperwork she had to go through or how engrossed she was in some sort of report, Sarada could always tell the exact moment when her ANBU guard changed, and his shift started.
She liked to think it was because she was always aware of her surrounding, which she was. But she knew, deep down, that in this particular case, it had nothing to do with being aware of her general surrounding and everything to do with being aware of his chakra signature and his presence and his everything.
Of Boruto .
It wasn’t even something that she consciously did. That awareness, that sensitivity towards everything that had to do with him had always been there, and she had found it excessively annoying. Especially now, especially for the past three years, especially since they had ripped open this chasm between them that had destroyed any semblance of a connection they had ever shared.
These days, Sarada wished she could let him fade into the background—just another face among the many on the busy streets of Konoha, just another shinobi who reported to her.
But, as Sarada had learned early on, she couldn’t get everything that she wanted in life.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she set down the ANBU budget report that had been giving her a headache and looked at the dark sky of Konoha outside her windows. It was late—too late, judging from how exhausted and sluggish she felt. In a few hours, the village would slowly come back to life as a new day started, but for right now, everything was quiet and peaceful.
Sarada stifled a yawn as she briefly contemplated the idea of sleep. It was so very tempting, to be sure, but she still had so much work to do. She had an early meeting tomorrow to settle on the budget for ANBU for next year and then another one right after that to discuss the new trade agreement with the Land of Waves.
She could do it. If she could defeat S-class missing nins after pulling multiple all-nighters, she could handle a few meetings. Or die trying.
Preferably not die trying.
Chuckling to herself, she reached for the cup of coffee that she had fixed for herself an hour ago and had probably gone cold by now. Only, instead of grasping the handle of the cup, she knocked the cup over and was too late to stop it from shattering on the floor.
Barely a second later, Boruto had vaulted through the window into her office with his sword drawn, shoulders tense and body ready to leap into action. It was only when it became clear that there was no threat to her safety did he sheathed his sword and shifted into a more relaxed stance.
“Everything ok, Hokage-sama?” he asked after bowing to her.
“Er, it’s all good. I just…er, just a bit of an accident, that’s all,” she replied sheepishly before crouching down to clean up the mess her coffee had made on the floor. “You can go back to your position, Fox.”
He must not have taken her words as an order because before she knew it, he was crouching next to her, bare hands picking up broken pieces of ceramic drenched in coffee. He was close, not enough to be considered disrespectful, but still closer than they had ever been in the past three years.
“Fox, you don’t have to—”
“You should be more careful,” he cut in, admonishment clear in his voice, and Sarada almost thought he was addressing her not as Fox, but as Boruto, before he added, “Hokage-sama.”
“I…yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
They worked silently, picking up shards of ceramics and wiping away coffee with clean towels that she had stored in her closet. The silence was suffocating, but Sarada wouldn’t be Hokage if she couldn’t deal with a bit of pressure. She just needed to endure these few minutes of tension before he would return to his post, and everything would be back to the way it was.
That was how things between them were supposed to go, until his fingers accidentally brushed against hers right as they wiped away the last coffee stain on the floor. They both withdrew their hands instantly, but that was the only reaction they had to what had just transpired.
“Thank you for your help, Fox,” she said quietly once they had straightened up.
“It’s my pleasure, Hokage-same.” He bowed again, and then he was gone.
Sarada told herself that the light-headedness she was feeling was because of her lack of sleep.
And not because the merest brush of his finger had been enough to set her entire body on fire.
They hadn’t always been this way.
Once upon a time, they had been close. They had grown up together, had fought together, had gone through many life-and-death situations together.
And, after one sake too many, they had slept together. It was possibly the best and worth thing that could have happened to them. Even after three years and a broken relationship, she could still recall the feeling of his touch on her bare skin, the heat of his lips caressing her neck, the fire of him inside her.
It was amazing. And it was terrifying.
Sarada wasn’t dense, or blind, enough not to see that she loved him. She didn’t know when it started, but there was nothing platonic about how she felt about him.
The problem was that, back then, she was dense and blind. She didn’t see that all the craving and longing and yearning that she had for him wasn’t just purely physical. It was emotional. It was love.
By the time she had figured it out, everything had been said and done. They had spent months arguing and fighting, and taking all of their frustration out on each other in bed when they weren’t so busy screaming at one another. The fire between them had burned too bright, too fast, until there was nothing left but ashes—and not even realizing her love for him had been enough to raise a phoenix out of that.
Sarada tried to tell herself that it was better this way. Some people just weren’t meant to be. Clearly, she and Boruto were one of those people. He was better off without her in his life and vice versa.
(Some days, she really, truly believed this)
It hadn’t been easy maintaining their distance at first, with their lives so intertwined, but they managed. And once their friends and families finally understood that there was nothing left between them, things got a bit more bearable. She had never thought that she would live life without Boruto by herself, but she was getting used to it.
Some people just weren’t meant to be.
And then she became Hokage. And he became one of her ANBU guards. She couldn’t quite believe it when she saw his name on the roster or when he showed up on his first shift, a fox mask hiding his face from the rest of the world, leaving only a pair of bright blue eyes visible. She had stared at those same eyes for a moment too long before she finally managed to tear her gaze away.
Sai told her that he had volunteered for the position. She doubted it was out of any concern for her personally. The last time they had talked, he had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her ever again.
It was just a good career move, simple as that. Everyone knew the Hokage’s ANBU guards were the cream of the crop. Boruto just needed to endure this for a couple of years, and he would be going places. He was just being smart and strategic.
He was thinking about his career, not about her or the promise that he had made a long time ago when they still meant something to each other.
And while Sarada wasn’t quite okay with that, she was at least used to it.
Five days ago, she had sent out a squad of three ANBUs to assassinate a crime lord that had been on a campaign to turn the Land of Bamboo into a warring state.
Today, only two ANBUs stood in her office to give their report.
“Where’s Fox?”
“He…took a hit, Hokage-sama…”
For one second, even if she knew it was medically impossible, it was like she had forgotten how to breathe.
“...but it’s not life-threatening. The only issue was that the blade was poisoned…”
The hand that she kept under the table curled into a fist, so tight she knew she would be drawing blood if she didn’t let up any time soon.
“...the medics had managed to draw up an antidote. He’ll be alright, but they’re keeping him overnight for observation.”
Relief washed through her like a tidal wave and it took all she had just to give the ANBUs a wordless dismissal. The inside of her hand felt wet and warm—her nails had pierced the palm of her hand, but she didn’t even register the pain.
For the rest of the day, she remained distracted, out of sorts. All she could think about was Boruto, stabbed, poisoned, hurt . How many times had these images haunted her dreams and lingered in her waking hours? Being a shinobi was a dangerous profession, one that every single person she loved engaged in. She had been taught from a young age that pain and death could happen to them at any moment, and she had accepted it.
But that didn’t make it any easier to bear when her loved ones were actually hurt.
A few times, she toyed with the idea of visiting him. Three years ago, she would have done so without a second thought. He would have been happy to see her. But now…
She sighed. What reason did she have now to go see him? She had nothing. There was only so much a Hokage would (could) do when it came to caring for her subordinates. If she started making a habit of visiting the bedside of every shinobi who landed themselves in the hospital…well, she would have no time left to actually do anything else.
She had to be reasonable about this, rational. Cat said he was fine, wasn’t he? The only reason he was in the hospital was for observations. Sarada knew first hand how medics tended to err on the side of caution. There was nothing for her to worry about.
“Anything that I can help you with that report, Hokage-sama?”
Sarada blinked as the world around her sharpened into focus once again at the sound of Shikamaru’s voice.
“Uh…no, it’s all good.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been staring at the first page for the past half an hour now, and while trash recycling can definitely be a drag, I’m reasonably sure it can’t be that challenging for you.”
So it was recycling she had been looking at.
“Go see him, Sarada,” he said gently.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Uncle Shikamaru,” she muttered.
He snorted. “Don’t play dumb now, Sarada.”
It was all the nudge that she needed for the stubborn, rational side of her to give in. The trip to the hospital had been a blur, and before she knew it, she was perched on the windowsill outside of his room, watching as his chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber. He was a bit paler than usual, but he was okay. He was recovering. She could get back to work.
But now that she was here, just a few meters away from him, separated only by a window that she could easily slip through, Sarada realized that a brief glimpse was not enough. Something inside her was screaming at her to think more about this, to weigh the pros and cons, to not make any rash decision, but, perhaps for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to listen to the voice of reason.
As stealthy as she could manage, Sarada opened the window to his hospital room and slipped inside, all the while taking care to dampen her chakra as much as possible. She wouldn’t want anyone to find out, least of all Boruto. Her ANBU guard, who was stationed outside, had front-row seat to this…stalkerish excursion, but she knew he wouldn’t talk.
(Still, Sarada made a mental note to have a chat with Bear once they were back in her office, just to be sure)
Sarada approached his bed with silent footsteps, stopping only when she was but an arm’s length away. She couldn’t quite recall the last time that she had seen him like this, bare-faced, his identity not hidden away behind an impersonal porcelain mask. He looked much the same, if her memories served her right, except for that tiny wrinkle near the corner of his eyes. For how long had that been there, she wondered. Were they really at that age now?
Something in her chest constricted. Wrinkles, gray hairs—she had once thought that when the time came, she would be one of the first to tease him about them. They would laugh and probably would start bickering about who was getting on with their age.
Now, all she could do was watch him in secret, hoping that he wouldn’t find out. What else did she miss these past three years? What more would she miss in the years to come? How strange, that they could be so close once upon a time and so far away now.
Sarada bit her lips as she tore her eyes away from him. It had been a mistake to come here. She had thought that once she could see him, safe and whole, it would ease her erratic heart and calm her distracted mind. But all she had managed to do was reopen wounds that she thought had scabbed over a long time ago.
She shouldn’t be here, so there was nothing left for her to do but leave.
Alone in his hospital room, Boruto slowly opened his eyes to stare at the spot that she had occupied just moments ago.
As the tree went flying under the impact of her fist, her knuckle split open. Blood trailed down her fingers and dropped to the ground next to her feet, staining the earth red. Sarada looked at her hand, frowning. She had wanted something, anything to hurt, which was why she hadn’t worn her gloves, but she was barely registering the pain.
It was three in the morning. She had chosen the furthest training ground from the village to demolish, hoping that opening craters in the ground and leveling part of the forest could dull the rage she was feeling inside. But it hadn’t worked—because she was still so, so angry.
For two months now, civilian children and teenagers had disappeared from the village. Kidnapped. She had spent many sleepless nights on this investigation, and the perpetrators were now behind bars. They had originally thought this was part of a larger human trafficking ring, but the truth was much worse.
Some of those taken had been trafficked, yes, but most of them had remained in the dark dungeon near the border with the Land of Wind, dissected and experimented on. ANBUs had stormed the place and out of the 34 children and teenagers taken, only 10 were brought back alive. They had been in intensive care ever since, mutilated and deeply traumatized, all because some sick bastards thought they could weed out the weakness in civilians' genes.
Sarada screamed as she thought of the children in the hospital, of their glassy eyes and scissoring scars and the way they recoiled from even the faintest hint of human touch. The perpetrators might have been caught, but what good did that do for those who would have to live with the pain for the rest of their lives?
If they could even survive, because her mother had told her that she wasn’t entirely sure all of them could make it before the end of the month.
Sarada had been a shinobi for more than 20 years and not once had she relished in violence or craved it. But this time, just this one time, it had taken every ounce of self-control she had in her just to stop herself from going to those bastards and showing them exactly what pain felt like. She was the Hokage and her hands were tied by things like laws and justice and due processes.
So she had gone looking for what she hoped was the next best thing—destruction. But it didn’t matter how many trees she fell or how many fissures she opened in the ground, the rage remained.
She was so angry at herself. She had taken an oath to protect this village and yet, she had let this happen on her watch. She had let sick, twisted men and women steal children from their homes, from their families and hurt them beyond repair.
She had failed them.
Tears of shame and frustration spilled from her eyes and trailed down the side of her face. Her vision blurred, but that didn’t stop her from hammering her fist into the ground, this time without the explosive power of her chakra. One time. Two times. Three times. Her knuckles were nothing more than two bloody messes now, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Until she felt a hand wrapped around her bicep, its grip gentle but unyielding. She didn’t need to look up to know who dared to do this. He was on duty tonight.
“Let go!” she hissed.
“You’re hurt, Hokage-sama,” Boruto said quietly.
“I don’t care —”
“ I care,” he cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow wielded enough power to render her speechless.
He knelt down and took her hands into his before he started wiping them clean of blood and dirt. His movement was so gentle and careful, like he was tending to something fragile and delicate, not his Hokage, who could crush mountains with her bare hands and kill enemies with a flash of her Sharingan.
“You should go to the hospital to get treated, Hokage-sama.”
“Don’t call me that,” she murmured. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Hokage-sama ,” he retorted. The stubborn tilt in his voice was so Boruto that she had the strangest urge to laugh.
“I don’t deserve it,” she repeated, more to herself than to him. “It was my fault. I let it happen. I took an oath and I failed .”
“Last time I check, you’re the Hokage, not a god . ”
“It’s my responsibility to protect the village!” she snapped.
“You’ve been trying your best every single day! It doesn’t mean that you can do everything, though. Things happened, and at least you’ve managed to stop them before even more kids were hurt.”
“Kids are already hurt,” she whispered, feeling all the fight dissipate inside her. She was so, so tired.
“And it’s not your fault,” he assured her without missing a beat. “You’ve done the best you could, and no one has any right to ask for anything more from you…Sarada.”
Sarada stilled, her breath stuck somewhere halfway up her throat. She hadn’t realized how much she had hated the impersonal “Hokage-sama” and how she had missed hearing the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. Everything hurt, and to hear him calling her name, it hurt even more.
Fresh tears spilled over her eyes. Once more, her vision blurred. Her whole body shook as she wailed, wanting nothing more than to curl into herself until everything else disappeared.
And then suddenly, she could feel strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. Without warning, she was pulled into his embrace, her face pressing against the cold amour of his ANBU uniform. But there was nothing cold or impersonal about the way he was holding her or the feelings of his fingers stroking her hair.
“It’s okay. You can cry. No one would know,” he murmured softly.
“Boruto, I—”
But before she could finish her sentence, the world had folded in on her and darkness had taken over.
Sarada woke up to green eyes that were equal parts worried and disapproving, and she knew she was screwed .
“Mama,” she croaked, voice scraping against the dry walls of her throat.
“Here, drink up,” her mother said.
Sarada dutifully took a few sips of the water offered to her and let out a contented sigh. Who knew water could taste this good?
“So…uh, how long have I been out?”
“A day, give or take,” Sakura replied in the tone of voice that Sarada had learned to mean she was screwed . It didn’t matter if she was thirty and the Hokage to boot. Her mother had never failed to make Sarada feel like a misbehaving teenager when she took on that tone.
But then she remembered that she had responsibilities now—things that would take precedence over a scolding from her mother.
Sarada pushed her sluggish body up, only to be pressed down once more by slender white arms that she knew were far more powerful than they looked.
“And just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?”
“I have work—”
“Which your advisors can handle just fine. I hope you’re not paying them just to stand around doing nothing.”
“Yeah but—”
Sakura shook her head firmly. “No. No more but’s. The only thing you should do right now is rest. You passed out from exhaustion, Sarada. You need to take it easy.”
“...fine,” she relented, but only because there was no arguing with her mother. If even her father and Uncle Naruto couldn’t manage it, then what hope did she have?
Then something occurred to her.
“How did I end up here?” The last memory she had was of demolishing that training ground, then breaking down into a crying mess in front of Boruto. “Wait, don’t tell me…”
“He only left last night when I threatened to carry him back to his apartment,” Sakura recounted, sounding distinctly amused. “He was worried about you, Sarada.”
“He was just doing his job,” Sarada muttered.
A job that didn’t include holding her in his arms, or stroking her hair, or letting her cry in his chest.
But her mother didn’t know that.
Sakura’s eyes softened. “It’s not really my place to intervene, darling. I don’t know what really happened between the two of you, but is it really worth throwing away everything that you once had together?”
When Sarada couldn’t give any answer to that, her mother decided to give her some space and left to do her rounds.
She spent another day in the hospital on enforced bed rest. As she had wanted to keep the whole thing quiet (it wouldn’t look good if words got out that the Hokage had keeled over from exhaustion after all), she had no visitors, with the exception of her parents and Mitsuki.
“I was there that night when Boruto brought you in,” he explained as he settled into the chair next to her bed.
“You were hurt?”
“No. My teammate was, but she’s good now.”
“Aa.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better. I could totally go back to work now, but my mother threatened to start an uprising to replace me with another Hokage if I tried to escape.” She pulled a face at that.
“And I would wholeheartedly support her,” he teased.
Sarada scowled. “Aren’t you supposed to be my friend?”
“I am.”
“Friends are supposed to have each other’s back.”
“I am having your back. I’m saving you from killing yourself because you’re too much of a workaholic to know when to relax,” he countered dryly.
“...I’m not going to kill myself,” Sarada muttered petulantly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much. Not with Boruto around,” Mitsuki mused pleasantly.
She gave him a measured look. “Don’t—”
“You didn’t see him that night, Sarada. I did. He was screaming and yelling at the medics to help you. He was…how do people usually say it? Ah, flailing around like a headless chicken. And you should have seen the way he was cradling you to his chest—”
“Stop! I don’t want to hear this. Just…don’t.”
“I just think you should know how worried he was about you, Sarada,” he replied softly.
“His Hokage passed out on him. I’m sure he was worried,” she said flatly.
“Do you really think he was worried because you were the Hokage?”
Sarada pursed her lips, not saying anything.
“Why do you think he became your ANBU guard, Sarada? It sure as hell wasn’t because your were the Hokage.”
“It was just a good career move, that’s all,” she retorted.
Mitsuki gave her a disbelieving look. “That’s complete and utter bullshit and you know it. When the hell has Boruto ever cared about anything like a good career move ?”
Again, Sarada had nothing to say because Mitsuki was right. Boruto would never care about something like that. He wouldn’t become her guard just to advance his career.
Her mind strayed back to that moment two nights ago, to the gentle way he cradled her bloody hands in his, and to that forceful “ I care” that had rendered her speechless.
Hope bloomed as she entertained the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, he still cared about her. That she wasn’t nothing to him like he had once told her. That their relationship wasn’t broken beyond repair. That there was still something left for her to salvage.
“I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Sarada. Both of you,” Mitsuki said gently. “And I know that neither of you would be if you don’t stop living like this.”
And it was only then that she finally allowed herself to admit she hadn’t gotten used to a life without him, not at all.
There was a square-shaped gift waiting for her when she got back to her hotel room in Suna. There was no note attached to it and she would have called ANBUs to her room to check if it was some kinda of attack (she had dismissed her guard for the night, but she knew they would be here in an instant if she needed help) if she didn’t see the little double-knotted bow sitting atop the box.
There was only one person she knew who would tie a bow like this and that person was in the room next to her.
With careful fingers, she peeled off the wrapping papers to find a navy velvet box. Inside of it sat a silver necklace with a half-moon pendant. It was simple and delicate—just the kind of jewelry that she would go for.
Sarada bit her lips as she inspected the necklace. Between all the preparation for the Chunnin exam in Suna, she hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of her birthday.
It was just a day, after all.
And yet, Boruto had remembered it, and had even prepared a gift.
For months now, she had contemplated the idea of reaching out to Boruto. To thank him for that night. To apologize to him for everything that had happened. To ask if perhaps, just perhaps, he would like to start over again.
She had never gotten around to actually doing it, and she blamed her busy schedule. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t because she never had the time. She did have the time, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to him, apprehensive of his reaction, afraid that she might have gotten it all wrong, and terrified that she might never be able to recover from his rejection.
But now, as she held his necklace in her hand, Sarada felt a burst of courage that she had been missing. This was the first thing he had given her after three years of treating each other like strangers. It had to mean something.
To her, it meant she still had a chance, and she needed to take it.
Setting the necklace down on the table, Sarada went out of her room and walked over to his. Before she could even knock, his door had already clicked open and there he stood, still dressed in his ANBU gear but without his mask. Surprised had her frozen for a second before she cleared her throat.
“Can I come in?”
“Ah, yes, of course, Hokage—”
“Just Sarada,” she corrected as she walked into his room. “I’m not here tonight as your Hokage.”
“Then what are you here for, Sarada ?”
“You gave me a birthday gift. Why?”
“...I would think that is rather obvious,” he muttered as he leaned against the door, arms crossed and eyes looking straight at her.
“I would rather not guess. I might get it wrong.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? So I think your guess is as good as the truth.”
Sarada bit her lips as she mulled over his words. “Do you…do you still care about me?”
He let out a low chuckle. “I think I’ve made that rather obvious as well, Sarada.”
“But why ? Back then…back then you said—”
“Back then, I let my insecurity and pain get the better of me. I was willing to give everything and I wanted…I wanted everything as well, but you couldn’t give it to me. You didn’t want to. And that hurt. So I lashed out,” he confessed, voice low and raspy. “I’m sorry.”
“I should be the one apologizing,” she murmured, feeling shame and regret burning through her veins. “I was too much of an idiot back then to realize—I thought it was just a physical thing and I…well…”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Your favorite phrase back then, what was it? No strings attached. I hated it so much, because whatever strings I had, I wanted to attach them all to you. I didn’t want to just be some guy who warmed your bed at night.”
“Do you still want that? Do you still want to attach all your strings to me?” she asked. Her hands felt clammy and her heart was thumping so loudly inside her chest that it was a wonder she wasn’t breaking out in cold sweats. The thought of him saying no terrified her, but Sarada needed to know, because if he still wanted that, if he still wanted her…
A minute passed. Then two. And just when her anxiety was about to consume her whole, he said: “Only if you will attach all your strings to me .”
In the silence that followed his words, Sarada closed the distance between them with a few quick strides and pressed her lips to his. Boruto went rigid with surprise before he responded, soft and hesitant at first, then bolder as he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. Sarada let out a low moan.
Gods, she had missed this. She had missed him .
When she woke up the next morning wrapped in Boruto’s arms and with nothing but a blanket to cover her body, she thanked the gods she had had the foresight to dismiss her ANBU guard for the night.
Otherwise…well, let’s just say things would have been rather awkward.
Next to her, Boruto stirred, blue eyes blinking blearily as he tried to adjust to the morning light.
“Morning,” she greeted softly, rolling over so her face was pressed against the bare skin of his chest.
Morning cuddles. How she had missed this.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” he murmured.
"Nope. All real."
He smiled. "Good. Because that was one of the best nights of my life. I would hate it if that weren't real."
"I suppose it was pretty decent," she said, just because she was in a teasing mood.
He snorted, clearly not to be fooled by her words. "Judging from the way you were screaming my name last night, I'd say it was more than just decent."
"Maybe I just like screaming your name."
He smirked. "I'm definitely not complaining."
For a while, they held each other in comfortable silence, relishing in the warmth of their embrace and the simple fact that after three long years, they had finally made their way back to one another.
"Sarada?" Boruto spoke as he absentmindedly traced small little circles all over her back.
"Hm?"
"Do you really mean it? About all strings attached?"
"Yes, absolutely."
"So that means we're—"
"Together, yes," she finished with a smile. "Well, only if you want to. It won't be easy, as you very well know, and there are many things that we will have to take into consideration—"
"Sarada, there is absolutely nothing that I want more than to be with you. Nothing, and I really mean nothing , can ever convince me otherwise, okay?"
"Okay," she replied softly.
"Look at me, son of the Seventh Hokage and boyfriend of the Eighth. How many people can actually say that, eh?" He crowed, chest rumbling as he laughed.
She chuckled. "Only you, Boruto, only you."
"I suppose I'll need to talk to Sai when we get back about getting transferred. Conflict of interests and all that, you know."
She gave him an amused look. "I suppose you'll need to do that."
"And then I'll need to take you out on a date. If Lady Hokage can fit me into her busy schedule, of course."
"Oh, I'm sure I can have my assistant pen you in somewhere."
"I would be honored, Hokage-sama."
Sarada giggled as she propped herself up on her elbows. She was facing him now, which made it much easier when she leaned in to give him a kiss.
"I love you, Boruto," she murmured against his lips.
He broke away from the kiss and pulled her closer until she could feel the ghost of his breath tickling her ears. Then he whispered: "I love you, too, Sarada."
Fin.