Chapter Text
Another loss.
Boruto thought to himself bitterly, drifting out of the crowded stadium, the loud cheers and bright lights not doing anything to help his growing frustration. He had lost for the fourth year in a row. Four years of work turning up zero results. It wasn’t that he was bad; a bad skater, a bad student, a bad person.
He just wasn’t enough. Never enough.
There was always someone just a little bit better. Someone with better jumps, smoother landings, more precise movements. Today, that someone was Mitsuki Iburi. A shining man with shining white hair and a shining bronze medal which he held in one hand proudly as he held a bouquet of flowers with the other.
He had won by one point over Boruto. One. A difference so small it made Boruto want to rip his hair out.
Mitsuki wasn’t a complete stranger, as they had attended the same skating academy when they were younger, but that was well over a decade ago and they had long since grown apart. Now, neither of their skating skills were anything to scoff about, but Mitsuki managed to best him every time, now he had managed to secure his first medal.
He had managed something Boruto couldn’t.
The blonde's jaw tightened, biting his lower lip to hide its pitiful quivering. He would have to face coach Sasuke’s thin lipped frown for a fourth time. He wouldn’t be punished, he was never “punished”, but the disappointment on Sasuke’s ever-emotionless face was enough to make him want to drill a hole into the ice and stay there.
Slipping on his puffer coat and pink scarf, he stepped out into the biting cold of Konoha’s winter, waiting for a familiar black Hyundai to pull up. The cold did little to cool down the burning frustration ithin him, only irritating him further as more minutes passed and his friend still wasn’t here because of course he wasn’t. By the time the car turned the corner, Boruto’s hair was littered with frost, his nose flushed pink. He opened his mouth to chew his friend out (seriously, how did he always manage to be late??) a flash of white in the corner of his eye drew his attention away.
It was the elegant bronze medalist, the reason for Boruto’s current inner turmoil. Seeing him again did nothing to help Boruto’s souring mood as he stared down the pale boy from across the street. But after a good 5 seconds of staring Boruto realized something was…off.
The smile Mitsuki had worn on the podium (that infuriatingly empty smile) had long faded, replaced by a pressed line and guarded posture. Someone, (man or woman, Boruto couldn’t tell from this distance) much taller than Mitsuki, obscured by thinning black hair, grips his shoulder intently, looming over him like a shadow. An uncomfortable feeling crept up Boruto’s spine, telling him to look away, it’s none of your business, why are you even staring weirdo! He tears his gaze away, meeting the deep blue-ish green eyes of his best friend.
“Sorry I’m late, ChoCho took forever getting ready.” Shikadai groaned, a cigarette hung from his lips, as always.
Boruto slid into the passenger seat, almost moaning at the warm heat of the car flushing over his nearly frozen skin.
ChoCho whined some childish rebuttal from the backseat, something about detangling her “precious curls” and how Shikadai would never understand because he had “half-dead pin straight hair with the hairline of his father” but Boruto’s mind stayed on the ghoulish figure guarding Mitsuki…was that really his coach? He tried his hardest to think back to their academy days, recalling how a red haired loudmouthed woman picked him up, in a rather flashy car. He had never seen the ghostly looking figure before, and for some reason this deeply bothered him. Ugh…stop thinking about it! It’s not that unusual for people to switch coaches as they get older.
“Let me guess..another wash?”, an annoyingly monotone voice chimed in from the rear of the car, belonging to none other than Inojin. Boruto did not need another freakishly pale person ruining his day further, choosing to instead ignore him and look out the window. Not that there was anything interesting to look at, as it was the same nauseatingly boring view.
“Hey, I heard Mitsuki won bronze, we should totally meet up with him sometime!” ChoCho cheered. “He’s a total hottie now too..” She said, trailing off as everyone in the car groaned.
“Probably too busy with that freak he was with a second ago..” Boruto muttered, his face still turned to the window, face resting in his palm. He watched as snow built up on the passenger side mirror, before a bump in the road ended up knocking it off. Then the cycle repeated.
“That’s a bit harsh dude.” Shikadai said, steering with one hand as the other tossed the cigarette out the window into a snow pile. Ew.
“Nah, I’m forreal, the whole thing was eerie as hell. Mitsuki didn’t look too happy either..”
“Maybe some kinda ‘sugar daddy’, y’know famous people get into weird shit like that.” ChoCho said, tapping away at her phone.
“That’s gross as fuck, and hes not all that more famous than me just cus of some dumb bronze medal.”
“Why do you even care so much?” Inojin said, giving Boruto that infuriating smirk. (Deep down, Boruto knew he had a point. Why was he so concerned? He hadn’t even properly talked to the dude in years.)
After everyone in the car took turns shooting a few more jabs at Boruto’s ego, the conversation lulled, everyone concerning themselves with whatever song was blasting on the radio.
Eventually the car pulled into the small parking lot of Sakura’s Health and Wellness center. It was a quaint fitness and relaxation spot, complete with its own medicinal hot spring, gym, sauna rooms and more. It was a popular place, usually frequented by parents looking for a place to relax while they dump their kids by the facility pool, elderly women having their post-luncheon hangout, as well as people with casual gym memberships.
The money Sakura earned from it was good, good enough to have extra space in their house which was right next to the center.
Sometimes Boruto would stay with her while he was training for competitions, since Coach Sasuke stayed right nearby in a small apartment (which he refused to move out of despite Boruto insisting it was too small), and also since his parents’ house was just….empty, at least since the divorce. Sakura’s household was warm, comfortable, nothing like his own.
Once upon a time Sasuke and Sakura had been married. He remembered back when it was the ‘Uchiha’ household, rather than the ‘Haruno’ name displayed boldly on the lawns mailbox. Boruto could never quite figure out why they were together in the first place. Even before Sasuke realized he was gay, and Sakura realized she was in love with someone else, their relationship had been…unusual….stagnant…suffocating.
Divorce was a mutual agreement. It was quick and simple. No hard feelings. What once was a marriage turned into a friendship of mutual respect.
Boruto tried to push down the ugly feeling of envy.
Years had passed now, and both had settled into new lives. Sakura with her husband and Sasuke with his depressing habit of self-isolation.
Sakura stood in the entranceway, a homemade “Welcome Home Boruto!!” banner in her hands. Her sweet smile shined brightly. Her cheeks, stained a rosy pink from the biting cold matched her hair. Her new husband, Rock Lee-Haruno, was busy as ever, throwing up last minute decorations around the entrance hall of the home.
Shikadai parked and unlocked the door, the snow that had built up throughout the ride slipped off the window, snapping Boruto out of his trance. He said his goodbyes, met with more (un)friendly teases from the group, and a sincere congratulations from Shikadai on his “almost” win.
Boruto shook the last bits of melting frost from his head, making his now wet blonde strands stick to his forehead. This of course, didn’t escape Sakura’s watchful eye. “Not wearing a hat in this weather, I swear you’re trying to get sick.” She scolded, before proceeding to kiss his forehead sweetly. A grimace appeared on her face.”You smell like a wet dog.” She said, with a slight giggle. Lee on the other hand greeted him with a (much needed) over-enthusiastic hug, proceeding to then ramble about how defeat was a defining part of youth and that Boruto should relish in his 4th place “victory”. Boruto laughed off the unintended jab at his ever bruised ego.
“Okay, inside now!” Sakura said still complaining about his lack of a hat and offering to check his temperature (old habits from when she was Konoha’s finest nurse). After shaking off the extra snow in the doorway and taking off his outer-wear Boruto made a bee-line for the guest room, hoping to lie down and sulk a bit, truly taking after Coach Sasuke, who was in the back resting on a plush sofa meant only for guests.
(Boruto tried not to think about how despite divorcing, they were still so comfortable around eachother, unlike-)
“Oh no you don’t-“ Sakura reacts, snatching Boruto by his hoodie collar and dragging him towards the door closest to her centres changing rooms for the hot springs, only a single minutes walk away.
She passed him an employee only card. “Go take a hot soak before you get sick! Sasuke’s already got the sniffles!”, she scolded from behind the wooden locker room door, followed by a congested Sasuke groaning in protest.
“Sakura, really I’m fi-“
Boruto blocked them out, rolling his eyes to no one but himself. He was brought back to reality when the simple action of trying to take off his shirt caused a sharp pain to shoot through his body, and he was painfully reminded of the heavy fall he took.
During the last stretch of his routine, he got too comfortable and fucked up the jump, landing hard on his shoulder. Thinking about it for longer than a few seconds made him shrink in embarrassment, so he chose to instead focus on the springs.
Sakura had already laid a towel and robe on the locker room bench, so the blonde had no excuse to sneak his way out (and end up moping around like his coach).
He slipped the robe on, grabbed his towel and stepped into the steamy hot springs area.
Just as Boruto untied his robe to slip into the hot water (while also thinking about how right Sakura was, he definitely needed this) he was startled by a familiar head of sleek, black ear length curls.
Sarada.
Coach Sasuke’s daughter. A talented skater in her own right, with the fame and achievements to back it up. Multiple championships won in the fire country, two won in the international category, millions of fans across different regions, hundreds of brand deals, an estimated net worth well over what he’s made his whole life. All achieved by age 30.
So what is she doing here?
Boruto suddenly became hyper-aware of his extremely exposed form, scrambling to wrap his robe around his front again and oh my god did he just accidentally flash her-
“You’re fine..” Sarada spoke, snapping Boruto out of his inner panic. They met eyes for a moment before Sarada realized the double meaning in her phrasing, lifting her hands up to wave her comment off.
“-I mean, it’s ok. We’re both adults y’know? I don’t care that you’re naked.” she clarified. It’s not like she could see much anyways, as her glasses rested on the edge of the springs, safely sat on a towel.
Boruto stood there for a moment, studying her face. They weren’t exactly strangers, but he could count the amount of times they’d met on one hand, the last time being years ago. Of course he’d also seen her face on TV, maybe in a few fanmade edits when he scrolled through Tiktok, or rewatched her award winning performances a few hundred times. There was even a billboard in Konoha square, her posing next to a bottle of brightening face cream that admittedly, did nothing. Cameras don’t do her justice. He decided, after staring at her just a second longer.
Boruto waddled over, and dipped into the steaming water, realizing he’d just been gawking at her while literally half-naked.
An awkward silence settled between them until Boruto spoke;
“So, why’d you come back? Don’t you have brand deals to shoot for? Training to do? A penthouse near Konoha square to lounge in?”, his tone was joking, maybe a tad stilted from the awkwardness but it was a genuine question. She had no business in this cramped, boring area of Konoha, unless she was suddenly homesick for Sakura’s nagging and Lee’s too-tight hugs.
There was a pregnant pause that certainly didn’t help with the already awkward atmosphere. The silence was stifling and Boruto was almost about to apologize until-
“You didn’t bring home a medal, again.” Sarada said, turning to him with a teasing grin. Boruto wasn’t stupid, she knew he was avoiding the question yet-
It’s probably best I don’t push further, for now.
“Hey, at least I didn’t fall flat on my face during a performance! The bruise on your face lasted for weeks!”
“That was years ago.”
“Still never happened to me!”
They both fell silent again — not as awkward this time. Boruto didn’t have time to think about the short bout of banter they’d just exchanged before the raven-head was speaking again.
“I’m taking up teaching.” Boruto turned to her in surprise, however she didn’t turn to meet his gaze, instead leaning back against the wall, looking at the space in front of her. “And I think you could use my help. It seems my papas coaching isn’t penetrating your thick skull.” she teased.
Lots of questions ran through Boruto’s mind. Since when? Why? Who still calls their dad ‘Papa’? But rather than any of those questions, what came out of his mouth was;
“I doubt you're any better than him at teaching”
“You really don’t have anything to lose, you’ve never won a medal anyways”, she laughed, but she was right. And it stung, juuuust a little bit.
“That's all? You came back just to take me under your wing? O Sarada, my savior, what would I ever do without you..”
“I’m sure a more handsome, more talented man would love the opportunity to train under me..”, she waved the idea in front of him like bait. He rolled his eyes, there was no way he was falling for that! What was up with Uchiha and their weird, fucked-up manipulation tactics?? She was just like her father. But…the idea of someone else taking the opportunity did make an ugly feeling churn in his stomach. Hook, line and Sinker!
Any sensible skater would jump at a chance to study under her. Especially if they kept on losing. Especially if they were desperate.
He sighed. “Fine, what’s your plan anyways?”
“I’m hosting a raffle online, if I’m gonna train you, I’ll make sure you take me seriously. I’ll have you compete against someone else directly.”
“So you’re just gonna put me against some amateur?” he scoffed.
“Like you’re any better. I’ll just vet them beforehand, y’know?”
Just then, her phone pinged. She grabbed her glasses and disappeared into the locker room. Boruto hung back, giving her time to get dressed in the lockers so they wouldn’t cross paths. He really wasn’t interested in repeating the incident from earlier. Instead his mind circled back to the pale skater and the even paler corpse accompanying him. Why the hell did it bother him so much?
A few minutes passed, and Boruto realized if he thought about Mitsuki and whoever that was with him any longer it would drive him insane. He slipped out of the springs, grunting from the strain on his shoulder, cold hair nipping at his skin. He dried his hair and threw his robe back on, the thought about what was for dinner sitting at the forefront of his mind.
As he got ready to exit the lockers, he caught a missed call and a voicemail from his dad, stopping him in his tracks.
His dad was a lot more….different now to put it simply. He rarely made time to watch Boruto skate, but at least he wasn’t around to be embarrassed by his lackluster performance.
Boruto sighed, clicking the notification and pressing the phone to his ear. Not even realizing how tightly his jaw was clenched until he felt an ache in his teeth.
“Heya kid, good luck out there! Bring me home a medal, would ya..” his laughter was..hollow, fake, followed by a muffled monotone voice in the background, probably one of the annoying suits Naruto worked with.
It was a scheduled voicemail.. Boruto grit his teeth and deleted it. He switched his phone off and headed out, only to find everyone had already started eating.
Of course everyone had started eating without him. ChoCho and Shikadai were back with takeout, though Inojin opted to stay behind for whatever reason.
Sakura and Sarada were gone from the table, which was odd, but Sakura didn’t approve of junk food anyways. She would have a heart attack if she saw the state of Sasuke’s nearly empty fridge- Boruto didn’t question it as he took his place next to Sasuke.
Picking up his chopsticks and slowly beginning to chow down his food made Boruto realize how exhausted he truly was. He had trained nonstop this past month, fallen during his routine, lost, couldn’t stop thinking about mitsuki and that stupid weird guy and sarada and-
He took the last bite of his food, and let himself exhale.