Boruto had absolutely no idea what fate awaited him.
At this moment, he felt only warmth and gratitude. His young father hadn't just walked him to school this morning—he'd actually come to pick him up after classes ended too.
This was the kind of fatherly love Boruto had never experienced before.
Now, seeing Naruto standing at the Academy gate with that warm smile, Boruto's heart swelled with an emotion he could barely name. This was what it felt like to have a father who cared.
"Shikadai, Mitsuki, my dad's here!" Boruto called to his two friends. "I'm heading out. See you tomorrow!"
"Yeah, we'll try again tomorrow," Mitsuki said, his white hair catching the afternoon light. He clenched his fist determinedly. "I don't care what anyone says—that ghost exists, and we'll prove it!"
"Hey, Boruto," Shikadai said, pointing at his friend's face with typical Nara bluntness, "be more careful tomorrow. Don't 'fall' again. Because honestly? Those injuries don't look like you tripped. They look like your mom beat you up."
Boruto's face flushed red. He'd lied to both of them about the bruises, claiming he'd fallen on some unusually slippery ground. "It really was a fall! The kind where you slide across flat ground and—look, just try it yourself if you don't believe me!"
"Whatever you say." Shikadai waved dismissively, already walking away with Mitsuki. "Troublesome..."
Watching his friends depart, Boruto turned and hurried toward Naruto, his heart light despite the lingering ache in his face.
"Dad, why did you come pick me up?" Boruto asked, looking up at the tall figure before him.
Naruto ruffled Boruto's hair gently. "Are you happy I came?"
"Of course I'm happy!" Boruto nodded vigorously.
Internally, relief flooded through him. Thank goodness he'd told Shikadai and Mitsuki to return to the Academy before final bell so they could pretend they'd been there all day. If the young father had come to pick him up and found him missing, that would have been a disaster.
I'm so smart, Boruto congratulated himself.
"Good. Let's head home then. Mom's already made dinner." Naruto turned to leave.
"Okay!" Boruto fell into step behind him.
As they walked, a slightly familiar voice made Naruto glance to the side. He caught sight of an older Sasuke Uchiha, looking weathered and tired, holding a young girl's hand—probably his daughter.
One of Sasuke's arms ended at the elbow, the sleeve pinned neatly.
Naruto knew the story. During their final battle, he and Sasuke had each lost an arm to the other's ultimate technique. This world's Naruto used a prosthetic, but Sasuke had chosen to leave his severed.
I should visit this world's Sasuke before I leave, Naruto thought, then turned his attention back to Boruto.
"So, how was class today?" he asked casually as they walked. "Was it hard?"
Boruto's stride faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. "Not hard at all."
"Oh? What did they teach you today? Can you tell Dad about it?"
The father and son walked and talked, questions flowing naturally from one to answers from the other. Before long, they'd reached a quieter street with fewer people around.
The setting sun painted everything in warm orange light. With each question Naruto asked, Boruto grew more nervous. Regret gnawed at him. If he'd known this would happen, he never would have skipped class with Mitsuki and Shikadai to look for that stupid ghost.
They hadn't even seen anything.
Now he was stuck deflecting his young father's probing questions, the lies tasting increasingly sour in his mouth.
Boruto answered each question as best he could, making things up where necessary. When Naruto kept smiling without calling out the obvious fabrications, relief started creeping in. It seemed the young father didn't actually know what happened at school each day.
Which made sense. He'd only been here two days. How could he possibly know the Academy's daily curriculum?
Feeling more confident, Boruto continued his careful responses. Then suddenly, Naruto stopped walking and turned around.
The sun blazed behind him, turning his long golden hair into a radiant halo. The evening breeze caught it gently. He looked at Boruto with an expression that was still smiling but somehow different.
"That's good, Boruto. Since today's studies went so well, how about you show me what you learned?"
Boruto's face went blank. "Dad, didn't we already do this last night?"
"A genius improves significantly every single day." Naruto's voice carried absolute conviction. "Like me—I'm stronger today than I was yesterday, and I'll be stronger tomorrow than I am today." He tilted his head slightly. "Boruto, tell me. What's your dream?"
One day stronger than the last means getting beaten every day, Boruto thought desperately. My face still hurts from yesterday!
But when asked about his dream, pride overcame fear. "My dream is to become Hokage, just like my father!"
"A wonderful dream," Naruto said warmly.
Then, in the next breath: "Come on. Show me what Boruto learned today."
"Dad, can we skip the test today? Please?" Boruto's voice cracked slightly.
He understood this was how his father showed care, how he demonstrated his love. But this particular brand of fatherly love felt crushingly heavy.
"Don't argue. I'll make the first move." Naruto's fist was already in motion, aimed at Boruto's face.
"Dad, don't hit my face!"
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Ten minutes later, Naruto lowered his fists and looked down at Boruto, who lay sprawled on the ground. Old wounds layered with new ones made the boy's face appear almost twice its normal size.
Naruto shook his head, genuine disappointment crossing his features. "Boruto, you're exactly the same as last night. No improvement at all."
Hearing this, seeing his father's disappointed expression, Boruto tried to defend himself. "Dad, it's only been one day! How can there be obvious improvement? Even if there's subtle progress, you wouldn't be able to feel it!"
"No." Naruto's gaze turned piercing, like a detective cornering a suspect. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "I can feel even the smallest progress."
Boruto's heart began to pound.
"So if that's the case..." Naruto's eyes narrowed. "There's only one truth!"
"What?" Boruto's voice came out small.
"You didn't go to class at all today."
The words landed like kunai.
"That's why, after this sparring session, I didn't feel any progress from you."
Another kunai.
"Boruto, admit it. You skipped class today. You went with that Nara family boy and the short-haired one named Mitsuki, didn't you?"
Each sentence hammered into Boruto's heart. He hadn't realized Naruto already knew everything. All those earlier questions had been a test, and he'd failed spectacularly.
Still, Boruto stuck his neck out stubbornly. "Dad, I heard that when you were in school, you skipped class all the time too!"
He thought he had a point. The middle-aged father had been notorious for skipping during his Academy days. This young father should be the same person, right?
Naruto's response crushed that hope immediately.
"No, I never skipped class. The one who skipped was your father in this world."
Technically true, Naruto thought. Sasuke used shadow clones to attend for me. So what does that have to do with me personally?
"Boruto, do you know how old I am?" Naruto asked.
"?" Boruto blinked, confused by the sudden question.
"I'm twelve years old. Just barely older than you—only five years separate us. But at twelve, I'd already graduated from Academy training. I'm already the Fifth Hokage of Konoha."
He let that sink in for a moment.
"People who work as hard as I do spend every available moment training and improving. There's no time wasted on frivolous things."
Naruto's voice softened slightly. "Now, I don't actually object to skipping class. What I object to is skipping class just to play around. If you'd skipped for training purposes, to work on techniques the Academy doesn't teach, I wouldn't have said a word."
The revelation hit Boruto like a Lightning Style jutsu. His young father was only twelve? Five years older than him, and already Hokage?
Such an achievement was impossible without dedication. Without constant training.
Definitely impossible if you spent your days chasing imaginary ghosts.
"And about those injuries on your middle-aged father's face?" Naruto's smile took on a slightly sharper edge. "That was my work. You see, your father skipped school when he was young. That's why he's nowhere near as strong as me."
He crouched down to meet Boruto's eyes directly.
"So now you have a choice, Boruto. Do you want to become strong like me? Or do you want to become strong like your father—eventually, but only after wasting years you could have spent improving?"
Boruto had suspected the truth already. After last night, he'd noticed how similar his injuries were to his father's. The pattern, the severity, the specific locations—all identical. It should have been obvious they came from the same person.
But his father was the Seventh Hokage, the man who saved the entire ninja world. Who could possibly beat him so thoroughly?
So Boruto had buried that suspicion deep down, not daring to voice it.
Now, hearing Naruto confirm it directly, all doubt evaporated.
Boruto raised his head. The setting sun painted his bruised and swollen face in shades of gold and orange, making him look almost noble despite the damage. He looked at the powerful young man before him and spoke with absolute conviction.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have skipped class."
His fists clenched at his sides.
"I want to become Hokage like you, not like my middle-aged father!"
The declaration rang with determination, echoing off the empty street's walls.
Naruto smiled, satisfied.
That's more like it.
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