In the misty Cloud Forest, near the Hidden Cloud Village, a man stood outside a small, rustic resthouse. The forest's towering trees loomed above, their branches creaking in the gentle breeze. The air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of wet earth and leaves.
The man wore a dark cloak, its hood pulled up to cover his face. He stood motionless, as if waiting for someone, his gaze fixed on the winding path that led to the resthouse. The trees seemed to lean in around him, their branches tangling above his head like skeletal fingers.
The resthouse, crafted from rough-hewn wood and moss-covered stones, blended seamlessly into the surrounding forest. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, carrying the scent of burning wood and cooking food.
The man's presence seemed out of place in this serene setting, yet he stood with an air of quiet confidence, as if he belonged here. His face remained hidden, but his eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the mist.
As the man stood there, a figure emerged from the mist behind him. The newcomer's footsteps were quiet on the damp earth, but the man's head turned slightly, as if sensing his presence.
"Shisho," the younger figure said, his voice low and respectful.
The cloaked man turned, his movements fluid and deliberate.His gaze settled on the younger figure, and a hint of surprise flickered across his face.
"Hm...I see," he said, his voice deep and measured. "You came back earlier than expected."
The younger figure stood tall, his green eyes cast downward in a sign of respect. His travel-worn clothes and dusty boots spoke of a long journey, and a hint of exhaustion lingered in his eyes. Yet, there was a sense of determination about him, a sense of purpose that seemed to drive him forward.
"I've completed my mission, just like you ordered me," the younger figure said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I went to Kumogakure and learned something interesting."
The older man's expression changed from calm to intrigued,"My, my, then I can't wait to hear this interesting information," he said, his tone light and encouraging.
But in an instant, his demeanor shifted, and he became serious. His voice took on a sharp edge. "What is it?" he asked, his gaze intensifying as he awaited the response.
The younger figure's words hung in the air like a challenge. "There are rumors that Uchiha Sasuke is dead."
The older man's eyes widened in shock, his face pale. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if the words had struck him like a physical blow. But then, a slow, enigmatic smile spread across his face, like a crack in a mask.
"Ah, so the news has already spread, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. "You deserved this, only Sasuke." The smile grew wider, revealing a hint of triumph, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
The younger figure's curiosity was piqued. "
The younger figure's eyes narrowed, his voice serious. "It seems as if you knew that man... so, who was he? An enemy of yours?"
The older man's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with a mix of emotions. "No... I guess rather than an enemy... he was a person who stole everything from me."
The younger figure's curiosity was piqued. "Just who is this Uchiha Sasuke?"
The older man's smile turned enigmatic. "Heh... so kids of your generation are not familiar with him." He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
The younger figure looked at him in confusion, unsure what to make of the older man's cryptic words.
Then, with a fluid motion, the older man pushed back his hood, revealing dark bluish-black hair that fell to his shoulders in spiky locks. His bangs hung over his face, framing his sharp features. His eyes, a deep blush-black, seemed to bore into the soul. His skin was fair and smooth, a striking contrast to his dark hair.
In his hand, he grasped four tiny, black balls, each no larger than a marble. He grinned, his fingers absently rolling the balls around in his palm, the motion strangely hypnotic.
Suddenly, he flinched his fists, and the balls vanished into his closed hands. His knuckles whitened, as if he was holding onto something precious.
He turned to the younger figure, his gaze intense. "I'll tell you the story of Uchiha Sasuke."
Just then, a single drop of water fell, and the scene shifted. The two figures vanished, replaced by a mysterious, otherworldly dimension. The ground beneath was liquid, like a sea of shimmering silver. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes, around 43 years old, sat cross-legged on the liquid surface. His gaze was distant, lost in thought.Though he was old but he looked as if he was 32 years in age.
The air was thick with an eerie, pulsating energy. Strange, glowing symbols etched the walls of this mystical realm. The man's eyes seemed to hold a deep sadness, as if burdened by the weight of his own memories.
Suddenly, the liquid ground rippled, as if something was stirring beneath the surface...
A single drop of water fell onto the surface, making a small circle. The circle grew bigger and bigger.
He gazed at the ripples, his eyes clouded with thoughts. "But you won't be able to understand it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The circles on the water disappeared, leaving behind a sense of unease. He stood there, lost in thought, his expression a mix of sadness and determination.
He sat on the liquid floor, his back against the wall, holding his forehead protector in a hopeless state. His eyes gazed downward, lost in thought.
"Because the story he's about to tell you is of Sasuke, the Black Devil of the Leaf. Not the story of Sasuke, the Last Uchiha," he said, his voice laced with a mix of sadness and resignation.
He paused, collecting his thoughts. "But what I'm going to tell you is neither the story of the Black Devil nor the story of the Last Uchiha."
His eyes slowly rose, looking upward with a serious tone. "It's the story of how Sasuke, the Last Uchiha, became..." He paused again, his gaze intensifying. "Sasuke, the Black Devil of the Leaf."
The man,Boruto's face was etched with a deep seriousness, as if the weight of the story was crushing him. The dim light around him seemed to grow even darker, as if the shadows themselves were listening to his words.
In the heart of the Hidden Leaf, where the Will of Fire once burned bright, Konohagakure village lay shrouded in an unsettling stillness. The thatched roofs of its homes and the towering trees that sheltered them seemed to whisper secrets to the wind, their leaves rustling softly in the eerie quiet. The Seventh Hokage's era, meant to be a time of peace and prosperity, had instead brought a sense of unease, as if the very fabric of the village was holding its breath.
The markets and stood quiet, their stalls shuttered like closed eyes. The streets, once filled with the laughter of children and the chatter of villagers, were now empty and still, save for the soft crunch of gravel beneath the feet of the occasional passerby
Adult Boruto's voice whispered, "You're right... I'm not the main character of this story."
The village in all its glory is revealed, the flute's melody fading into the distance. But amidst the peaceful scenery, a sense of foreboding lingers, hinting at the darkness that lies beneath.
The villagers of Konohagakure went about their daily lives with a sense of unease, their smiles and laughter forced as they struggled to come to terms with the changing times. In the streets, hushed whispers spoke of the Hokage's concerns and the growing darkness that threatened to consume their home.
In the market, a group of elderly women exchanged worried glances as they haggled over the price of fresh produce. "Have you heard anything about the Rokudaime-sama's plans?" one of them asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nearby, a young genin, eager to prove himself, boasted to his friends about his upcoming mission. But his words were laced with a nervous energy, betraying his own doubts and fears.
The villagers' anxiety hung in the air like a thick fog, waiting to be acknowledged.
In the Konoha Cemetery, a 12-year-old boy in black clothes stood before two graves. His face was twisted in anger and sadness. He stared at the names on the graves: "Uzumaki Naruto" and "Uchiha Sasuke".
The boy's bright blue eyes, blazed with intensity as he gazed at the graves. His spiky, blond hair was messy and unkempt, with two small, distinctive whisker-like marks on his cheeks. His hands clenched into fists, and he raised a kunai. With a swift, rough motion, he began to scratch at Naruto's grave. The sound echoed through the cemetery, a harsh scrape of metal on stone.
The boy's body shook with strong emotions. He was angry, sad, and refused to accept that Naruto was gone. His movements were fierce, as if he wanted to tear away the reality before him.
Adult Boruto's voice echoed in his mind, "But it all began from me..."
As he remembered, the scene shifted back to his 12-year-old self, still scratching Naruto's grave with a kunai. His eyes blazed with anger and sadness.
A boy with short, white hair and a calm expression approached him, wearing a Jonin vest and forehead protector over his mission gear. "Boruto, stop it... that's enough... you should know he's no longer with us." But Boruto's anger only intensified. He scratched the grave with more force, his movements fierce.
A girl with short, straight black hair and black eyes, wearing red glasses stepped forward. Her expression was stern. "Enough! At least let him rest in peace in the afterlife..."
Boruto turned to face her, his shoulder moving abruptly. "HE'S NOT DEAD!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.The girl's expression turned even more severe. "Stop being a child. At least for once, act maturely."
Boruto's voice trembled with emotion. "His body is not even found, and we're regarding him dead!!"The white-haired boy placed a hand on Boruto's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Boruto, please..."
But Boruto shook him off, his anger and grief boiling over.
Mitsuki and Sarada, clad in their jonin vests, stood resolute, their eyes burning with determination. "We can't let their sacrifice be in vain," Mitsuki said, his voice firm. "Nanadaime-sama and Sasuke-san are gone, but we'll make sure their memory lives on. We'll avenge them, no matter what."
Sarada nodded in agreement, her gaze unwavering. "We owe it to them to take their revenge"
In the corner, a young girl with short, whisker-like hair and piercing blue eyes watched the scene unfold. She wore a soft pale coloured sweater with leggings and sandals.Her eyes welled up with tears as she listened to Mitsuki and Sarada's words, her heart heavy with confusion and sadness.
As the conversation continued, she hesitantly approached the group, her small voice trembling. "Onii-chan...?"
Boruto turned, his expression softening at the sight of his little sister. Himawari's eyes pleaded for answers, her gaze darting between Boruto, Mitsuki, and Sarada.
Mitsuki and Sarada noticed Himawari's distress and knelt beside her. "Hey, Himawari-chan, don't worry, we'll protect you," Sarada said gently.
Himawari looked up at Boruto, her voice barely above a whisper. "Onii-chan, is it true? Did Papa...really...?"
Himawari's eyes welled up with tears as she looked at Boruto. "Onii-chan, is it true? Did Papa...did Sasuke-san really...?"
Boruto's gaze fell, and he hesitated. Suddenly, Himawari's hand brushed against something in her pocket. She pulled out a worn, old headband – the same one Naruto used to wear.
"Where did you find this?" Boruto asked, his voice barely above a whisper.Himawari sniffled. "In Papa's old training room...I was looking for something to remember him."
The headband seemed to stir something within Boruto. His eyes glazed over, lost in thought.
"It's been 31 years since the incident that changed everything... I was just a genin, determined to master the Rasengan. Konohamaru-sensei was my instructor, and he pushed me to my limits." Adult Boruto said.
The scene shifted to a training ground bathed in the warm, fading light of evening. The first round of the Chunin Exams had concluded the day before, and now, the air held a more relaxed, though still focused, energy. Young Boruto stood a short distance from a series of wooden targets, a handful of shuriken glinting dully in his grasp. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but a hint of frustration tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Sasuke-san told me I needed to get really good at throwing these things," Boruto thought, his gaze fixed on a particularly stubborn scratch mark on one of the targets. "He said it was important for... well, for missions and stuff. Usually, he's the one who shows me the cool tricks..."
Konohamaru's voice, laced with a patient encouragement, echoed through the clearing. "Again, Boruto! Remember the stance, the balance! It's not just about throwing hard."
Boruto grunted, a puff of air escaping his lips as he adjusted his footing and tried another throw. The shuriken wobbled in the air, veering off course and thudding harmlessly into the dirt beside the target. A sigh escaped Boruto's lips, his shoulders slumping slightly.
Konohamaru, whom Boruto often casually called "nii-chan," approached him, a familiar, easygoing smile on his face. "Hey, don't get discouraged, Boruto. It takes time, you know? Even Sasuke-nii-san wasn't perfect right away."
"You're lying right?" Boruto said he saw through Konohamaru's lie. " Was it too much obvious, kore." said Konohamaru.
"But Sasuke-san makes it look so easy," Boruto thought, a touch of envy in his young heart. Aloud, he said, "But he's been gone all day! I wanted to ask him about that one spin he does... the really fast one."
Konohamaru chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on Boruto's shoulder. "Well, he's probably busy with Hokage-sama. But I can help you out. Remember what I showed you? The way you hold it, the flick of the wrist..." He demonstrated the motion slowly, his movements fluid and precise. "It's all about the momentum, Boruto. Not just brute strength."
Boruto nodded, watching Konohamaru intently. He tried again, mimicking his sensei's movements. The shuriken flew straighter this time, embedding itself with a satisfying thwack into the wooden target, though not quite hitting the bullseye. A small grin flickered across Boruto's face.
Konohamaru's smile softened with understanding. "Alright, that's enough for today, Boruto. You've been at this for a while, and the sun's almost completely down. You don't want your kaa-chan worrying, right?"
Boruto shook his head, a stubborn streak surfacing. "Just one more time, nii-chan! I almost had it!"
"Ok...It's the last one if you fail then no other chance !" Konohamaru exclaimed, clapping Boruto on the back. "Now, try focusing on hitting the center. Imagine your chakra flowing through your arm, right into the shuriken, guiding it."
Boruto took a deep breath, his gaze locked intently on the very center of the worn wooden target. He held the shuriken with a newfound stillness, a secret resolve hardening his young features.
He visualized his chakra, not just as a general flow, but as a focused stream, extending from his core, through his arm, and directly into the sharp edges of the projectile. He threw.
His arm moved with a surprising smoothness, a subtle, almost imperceptible whir emanating from the small device concealed in his palm. The shuriken spun through the air with an unnerving accuracy, its rotation tight and unwavering. It flew straight as an arrow, slicing through the evening air without the slightest wobble.
Then, with a sharp, satisfying THWACK, it embedded itself precisely in the center of the bullseye.
Konohamaru's jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. "Whoa! Boruto! You actually... you hit it! Dead center!" He stared at the perfectly placed shuriken, a mixture of disbelief and pride on his face. "That was... incredible! What did you do differently that time?"
Boruto turned to Konohamaru, a wide, confident grin spreading across his face. A spark of pride flickered in his blue eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to appear as though it was all his own skill. "Heh, told ya I could do it, nii-chan! Just needed to focus a little more, that's all!"
He puffed out his chest slightly, basking in Konohamaru's astonishment and his own secret triumph. The power of the scientific ninja tool, hidden from his sensei's knowing gaze, had delivered the result he so desperately craved.
Konohamaru's grip on Boruto's shoulder firmed gently. "Now, Boruto. You need to rest. Your body needs to recover. We can practice again tomorrow, first thing." Boruto's face fell, but he knew Konohamaru was right. He reluctantly nodded, gathering the remaining shuriken.
As Boruto started to walk towards the village, Konohamaru called out, "Hey, Boruto! And don't skip dinner! Your kaa-chan will worry about you if you do!"
A small, wry smile touched Boruto's lips. He knew his mother's concern was genuine. With a nod over his shoulder, he continued towards home, and there were confident feelings inside him along with the feelings of showing Sasuke that he was ready.
Boruto rushed through the bustling streets of Konoha, weaving past vendors and shoppers in the evening market. The smell of roasting meats and fresh produce filled the air, mingling with the sound of merchants calling out their daily specials.
As he turned a corner, the village's iconic Hokage Rock came into view, its surface glowing warmly in the fading light. Boruto's feet carried him on autopilot, his mind preoccupied with his struggles to master the Rasengan.
He passed by the familiar sights of the village: the Ramen Ichiraku stand, where Teuchi-san was serving up steaming bowls of noodles; the Yamanaka Flower Shop, its windows bursting with colorful blooms; and the Konoha Bakery, the sweet scent of fresh bread wafting out into the street.Despite the lively atmosphere, Boruto's face remained set in a determined expression. He was late, and he knew his mother would be worried.
Finally, he turned onto his street, the familiar sight of his family's home coming into view. "I'm in trouble!" he sighed to himself, quickening his pace.Boruto opened the door and said, "Sorry I'm late, Kaa-chan." Hinata was waiting for him, smiling warmly. "Oh, good, you're here!" Himawari appeared in the doorway, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her brother.
Hinata placed a hand on Himawari's shoulder. "Okay, Himawari, I'll be going now. Boruto, I leave it all to you." Boruto replied, "Sure, don't worry about a thing. Go relax and enjoy yourself." Hinata smiled and added, "I've made dinner, so please eat together. I think Otou-san will be late coming home."
Himawari bid goodbye, saying, "Don't worry, have fun!" Hinata smiled and said, "I'll be going, Boruto. Okay?" Boruto nodded, and Hinata left the house.
---
Quiz Time!
What is the significance of the worn, old headband Himawari finds in Naruto's training room?
A) It symbolizes Naruto's legacy.
B) It holds the key to mastering the Rasengan.
C) It represents Boruto's connection to Sasuke.
D) It's a memento from Naruto's genin days.
Share your answer in the comments below!