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There isn’t a single person at Konoha high that hasn’t heard about the well-anticipated Bewitching Hour as-per the school legend. As per school tradition, if you don’t attend the Bloody Waltz of October thirty-first then what are you even doing?
The crisp smell of autumn pumpkin spice and cinnamon zest permeates the entirety of Konoha high as excitement brims the filled up halls. There isn’t a student that isn’t eagerly awaiting the one and only Halloween party attended by all of the school. No one knows who the host is, and frankly, no one cares to find out. A banquet hall that changes locations with every year, invitations that one could only aspire to come across, and a chocolate fountain rumoured to taste bitter only to those awaiting an enchanted encounter. What isn’t to like?
Students mingle amongst themselves to find partners to take with them, because if you aren’t hell-bent on taking advantage of Bewitching Hour then what even is your life? Chipper fills up the vicinity as people are being asked out to the Bloody Waltz left and right.
Standing leaned against the locker with an unimpressed look on her face is the school’s ice priestess, Uchiha Sarada. She narrows her eyes skeptically at the sight before her — the sight of a girl asking out a guy to the Bloody Waltz, invitation in hand. She trembles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she meekly waits for his response. Sarada has never attended the Waltz, and doesn’t care to do so in the slightest. Do people nowadays have nothing better to do than engage in their Bewitching Hour delusions?
Approaching from the opposite end of the hallway with his group of friends is the school’s resident heartthrob, Uzumaki Boruto. He laughs at a joke his friend makes as he fiddles with the red envelope in his hand. Encapsulated in said red envelope with a midnight black bow is an invitation to the Waltz, which he just so managed to get his hands on for now the third time. Managing to secure a spot as a third-timer truly is a miracle to gasp at, or perhaps he’s just destined to be bewitched that intensely.
Sarada doesn’t have to turn her head to know who’s about to approach her, she can already tell just by the rhythm of his footsteps. She sighs, bracing herself for whatever idiocy she’s forced to witness this time.
The blond smirks at her, and she already knows that the next thing he does will be completely ridiculous.
“Yo, Sarada,” he greets, before his smile suddenly retreats. Even Sarada can’t help but flinch as he begins to violently cough, clenching onto his throat dramatically before crimson red begins to bead down his mouth. He coughs louder, covering his mouth with his hands. “Shit! What’s happening to me!?”
Unamused, the ice priestess raises an eyebrow at the resident heartthrob as his shrieks still take up the entire hallway. As if a charade as childish as this would be enough to make her waver. Only, what she doesn’t expect is for him to suddenly rip off the skin around his mouth, revealing a pink flesh that one would prefer not having to see. It peels off string-like, revealing an even bloodier mess on Boruto’s face. Even she can’t stop herself from gasping.
Amused, Boruto ceases his coughing as he rips off the remaining “skin” around his mouth, his satisfied grin irritating Sarada as it usually does. He pulls a handkerchief out from his pocket and wipes his mouth. “Looks like I still got it.”
“If by ‘it’ you mean a childish sense of entertainment then yes, good for you,” the ravenette snarks, glaring her usual daggers into his blue eyes. His friends exchange glances before opting to walk off without Boruto, for reasons unknown to her.
“Oh? Is someone bitter that they didn’t manage to find an invite for the Waltz this year either?” Boruto retorts, snickering as the Uchiha furrows her eyebrows in annoyance. Must he always find a way to antagonize her?
“Unlike you, I have better things to do than waste my time at some dumb halloween party,” she scoffs, because what’s so great about that damn party anyway? Why is everyone so obsessed with it? “Or get all riled up over some stupid school legend.”
“Hey, you can’t call it stupid if you’ve never even gone.” Boruto spins the envelope around with his fingers, flicking it using his other hand. “You better hope that you find an invitation this year, cause there’s no way anyone’s asking you out,” he laughs, dangling his invite in front of her as if candy in front of a baby.
“What makes you think that I’m searching?” Sarada has yet to understand why people find a party that exciting. “What’s so great about the Bloody Waltz?”
“I heard that this year, it’s not just the chocolate, but all of the sweets that’ll taste bitter if you’re destined for an enchanted encounter that night. And if you’re with your partner when the pendulum clock strikes for Bewitching Hour, you’ll share a tantalizing moment together that entwines your destinies for eternity.”
“What? I thought that the condition for being bewitched was dancing with them on the dance floor at some point during the hour. They can’t even get the story straight.”
“Ugh, no. Bewitched means that your fates will be entwined together for that night. ” Boruto scoffs as if this is meant to be common knowledge. “Seriously, where’s your school spirit? You only have one last chance left to go, y’know.” He leans in closer, and if Sarada is caught off guard, she doesn’t show it. “Is it that you’re scared of being bewitched?” He mocks her with his grin.
“That nonsense? Of course not! And anyway, don’t people want to be bewitched?” She jibes, shoving him away. Of course he of all people believes in that stupid myth.
“Not really,” he shrugs, piquing her curiosity. “I mean, if they go with the person that they like then sure, but otherwise there’s really no appeal.” Somehow, Boruto has yet to take a date to the Waltz, which has everyone wondering his reasoning. After all, there’s a whole niche of girls who’d drop everything to spend Bewitching Hour with him.
“Huh,” Sarada nods. “Then why don’t you go with someone you like?” She studies the expression on his face which grows suddenly unsure.
“Obviously there’s no one, stupid,” he harrumphs, looking away. Sarada is compelled to frown at that, although she doesn’t know why. “What about you? Anyone you wanna be bewitched with?”
The ravenette rolls her eyes. “I told you I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” the blond eyes her expectantly. Sarada sighs.
“I…I guess….” She looks away sheepishly, the slightest bit of pink tainting her cheeks catching Boruto completely off guard. He had not expected her to say that of all things. Sarada, the ice cold priestess that scares boys away before they can even consider talking to her — that Sarada is pining over the thought of spending Bewitching Hour with someone?
“Oh!” The blond exclaims all of a sudden. “Well, I suppose I do have some contenders.” He scratches the back of his neck, a stupid grin plastered on his face as Sarada studies his face. “I’ll probably ask someone to go with me this year.”
“Ah.” Sarada doesn’t know how to feel about this development. “I….probably won’t go again.” She doesn’t even have an invitation, after all. Not that she cares, of course.
“Huh.” Boruto hums in response, stuffing the envelope into his back pocket. “Well, it’s your loss.” With that, he excuses himself as he walks off to go find his friends that had decided to walk off. Sarada is left at the locker to wonder if perhaps she wants something different out of this halloween.
“What do you mean you’re not going again!?” Chouchou whines, shaking Sarada by the shoulders as they stand outside of the school. The vermillion and saffron leaves of autumn swirl around them as a gust of wind blows their hair. “C’mon, I’ll even give you my invite! I could totally just get someone to ask me out!”
“No, no,” Sarada assures, waving a hand in dismissal. “It’s fine. I don’t know what I’d even dress up as, anyway.” Normally, she opts to settle for something simple like cat-ears in her hair. That way, she could still be considered ‘dressed up’ even with the most minimal effort.
“Hmm,” Chouchou squints at Sarada as if examining her, making the Uchiha feel slightly awkward. “With that pale skin and dark hair of yours, you could totally be a vampire. I don’t even think you’d have to change that much!”
“Right,” Sarada chimes, unsure whether to consider that statement as a good or bad thing. “But it’s fine, I have tests to study for.”
“You always say that! You should live a little!” Chouchou doesn’t back down, recounting all of the times in which her friend passed up fun opportunities under the guise of being ‘too busy.’ She reaches for her pocket, pulling out a cherry-red lollipop and holding it towards Sarada. “Here, I got a bunch so take one.”
“Um, okay….” Sarada reaches to grab the lollipop. “Thanks.” Their conversation temporarily halts as they spot a certain blond and his friends walking in front of them. She instinctively unwraps the lollipop.
“I heard that Boruto’s going to the Waltz with Sumire,” Chouchou says, observing the Uchiha’s facial expressions slightly morph uncharacteristically. Her head turns to the car that approaches in the pick-up lane for their school. “That’s my ride! See you, Sarada!” She offers an enthusiastic wave as she hurries off.
“Ah, bye Chouchou,” Sarada replies haphazardly. She doesn’t know why her mood has suddenly turned sour, but can’t seem to resist the urge to shift the blame onto Boruto. She glares daggers into the back of his head, popping the lollipop into her mouth. Even the Uzumaki almost turns around at the haunting feeling of being watched.
That’s when a red envelope blowing in the wind smacks her right in the face. She picks it up, and doesn’t have to examine it in the slightest to know the contents of it. Maybe it’s time to step up her costume-game, after all.
She slips the cherry-red lollipop out of her mouth, as it doesn’t seem to taste quite right.
As the moon comes up, a certain banquet hall quickly fills with students of Konoha high, dressed top-to-bottom in their spooky costumes. Awaiting them right in front of the door is a man wearing a crimson feathered masquerade mask, who’s somehow always able to distinguish a valid invite from a counterfeit. The hall is brimmed with the excited squeals of people getting into their party moods, not to forget those who are eagerly awaiting bewitchment.
Loud freakish music suffuses people's ears as they get their groove on on the dance floor. The smell of apple cider and filthy rich chocolate takes over the vicinity as they complement the eccentric decorations perfectly placed. No one seems to question the vintage antiques that the hall seems to be full of, from old wooden clocks to fancy paintings with somehow fancier frames to even sparkly golden chandeliers that gracefully dangle from above. The time of popular demand starts an hour before — and ends right at midnight.
Standing with a surprised expression next to the punch-stand, drink in hand is the sly kitsune of the Bloody Waltz, Uzumaki Boruto. He’s confused because the drink he’s just tasted doesn’t taste like fruit punch. He can’t make out any of the sweet flavours that are to be expected, one could even describe the taste as bitter. He takes another sip to confirm his doubts, and contemplates if maybe all that spicy food destroyed his taste buds at some point.
Deeming the punch undrinkable, he disposes of it and tosses the cup, putting his kitsune oni mask back on. He adjusts the fake ears crafted onto his forehead, falling into a daze as he watches people on the dance floor. He fiddles with the sash of his white obi, already itching from the uncomfortableness. He’s totally bored, and opts to go search for his friends before a certain view stops him.
Approaching from the entrance is the cold-blooded vampire of the Bloody Waltz, Uchiha Sarada. Her shiny midnight hair is as dark as the sky, complimenting her cerise cape overtop her black lace dress and red corset. Dagger-shaped jewelry surrounds her neck-line, accenting her entire magnetizing appearance. Her hypnotizing ruby-red eyes don’t go unnoticed by a single soul as they appear to control the damn hall.
Her lips are just as red and shiny, and Boruto can’t help but contemplate how effectively he could wipe that red off of her.
So she did come. Boruto almost takes his mask off again to scratch his eyes and confirm if he’s hallucinating before Sarada suddenly looks straight at him. His heart beats out of his chest for reasons unknown to him as she begins to walk towards him, and he’s unable to move. Her eyes are even more dangerously captivating now that they’re red, and he struggles to look into them.
“Excuse me,” she breaks him out of his thoughts, “have you seen a girl named Chouchou? She’s dressed as a faerie.” A hopeful expression takes over her face, breaking her previous cold-blooded caricature. He notices the sharp fangs on her two front teeth. Wait, why is she speaking to him so formally?”
Oh.
“No, I haven’t seen her,” Boruto replies honestly, “sorry.” Sarada sighs.
“It’s alright, she’s just my friend that somehow managed to disappear into thin air the moment I walked in here,” she grimaces. “Nice costume by the way, I didn’t expect to see anyone dressed as a kitsune.” She offers a small grin.
She doesn’t recognize him with the mask on.
“Oh, um, thanks.” Boruto isn’t used to receiving compliments from Sarada, which only tempts him to delay revealing his identity to her for just a bit longer. “I can’t take the credit though, it was my dad’s idea.”
“Was it his idea to add nine whole tails? It seems pretty heavy to drag around everywhere,” Sarada says, tilting her head as she wonders if his voice sounds familiar. It’s hard to tell with the loud music invading her ears, so she brushes that thought aside.
“Trust me, it is,” Boruto glowers, thinking back to how much effort it took to even get those tails on in the first place. A soft chuckle escapes the ravenette’s lips, and Boruto hates how special he feels for being responsible for it. “So, you gonna search for your friend?”
“Nah,” Sarada leans against the wall. “She’s probably busy frolicking with her date, I’ll let her be.” She turns her head to the bowl of punch sitting next to them, observing the party lights that reflect through the drink. “Hey, is this punch any good?”
“Not really,” Boruto shrugs, “it’s strange, normally the punch here is awesome!” He thinks back to the previous Waltzes — the snacks and desserts and drinks were simply to die for, and almost made up for the growing pit that had been in his stomach.
“Oh, okay.” Sarada purses her lips as she thinks to herself. “I’ve been told that there’s a chocolate fountain here, I’m going to go check it out.”
“Want some company?” The Uzumaki offers, not sure what’s making him want to stay with her. He blames it on her get-up which clearly must have some sort of hypnotizing curse embedded in it.
“Oh, sure,” Sarada replies with a nod as they both make their way past the dance-floor, circling past the tables of food and the DJ booth. Somehow, they’re both affected by each other’s adrenaline as they sprint across the main venue, panting in between their trickles of laughter at their failed attempt at finding the fountain.
“Man,” Boruto chuckles, struggling to take in a breath but also amused by it all. “Did they have a limited supply of chocolate this year or something? I don’t see a booth anywhere!”
“Who knows,” the Uchiha can’t stop herself from giggling as maybe she had misjudged the Bloody Waltz. Sure, the legends and stories can’t be anything more than dumb myths to rally attention — but the party itself is proving to be worth her time, especially after meeting this kitsune-masked stranger. Maybe allowing Chouchou to doll her up was a good idea on her part. Her eyes dart to a mysterious looking painting that she can’t help but be excited by. “Hey! Let’s check that out!” She grabs the masked stranger by the arm and drags him with her.
They dash out of the main hall to a quieter serene area, which appears to be surrounded with a huge cluster of peculiar paintings. They finally come to a halt as she points to one that’s encapsulated in a fancy golden frame.
Boruto’s officially out of breath as he desperately tries not to let it show. He can’t recall the last time he’s seen Sarada get this worked up over something. “Um….?”
“The painting!” She gestures for him to look at the painting hanging in front of them. “It’s a kitsune! And a nine-tailed one at that.” She smirks as if victorious over something which has Boruto’s heart palpitating out of his chest again. Not feeling particularly compelled to let go of his hand, she continues, “although this one is orange and black instead of white.”
Indeed, the painting contains an orange nine-tailed kitsune, standing alone in the dark of the night with only the moon to accompany it. It is a rather intriguing painting, although the frame almost outshines it.
“I see I mesh with this place fairly well then,” the blond declares triumphantly as if the kitsune costume was his idea. His voice sounds suddenly crisp now that they’re further away from the loud music.
Sarada immediately lets go of his wrist, taking a step back as her eyes pierce into his mask skeptically, causing him to be on edge. She quickly rips it off of his face, revealing the resident heartthrob that she knows all too well. She almost feels like an idiot for not noticing the resemblance sooner.
“Boruto! You—” she stammers, struggling to recollect her thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you!?” She desperately hopes that her face isn’t turning as red as her irises, because it sure as hell feels that way. The worst part is that for some reason, she doesn’t even feel upset about this revelation. In fact, a part of her now really wants to thrust her lips onto his upon seeing him in this context — which isn’t how she’s supposed to feel about Boruto! As if she wants to spend Bewitching Hour with him!
“Uh,” Boruto fumbles awkwardly as he fiddles with his obi. “Surprise?”
“Oh my god,” the Uchiha pinches the bridge of her nose in what she wishes is repentance for her previous actions, but is unfortunately just embarrassment over letting Boruto see a side of her that she always makes an effort to hide. She looks back at him all of a sudden. “Wait, aren’t you here with Sumire? What the hell are you doing here with me!?” She shoves the mask into his chest causing him to yelp as he quickly grabs it. Curse her for having stupid thoughts about Boruto when he already has a date!
“What? I’m not here with Sumire,” he clarifies, suddenly mortified at the thought of her getting the wrong idea. “I mean it’s true that she asked me out, but I declined.”
“Oh,” The Uchiha clears her throat awkwardly at the misunderstanding. “So you aren’t here with anyone?”
“No!”
“I see….” A weight lifts from Sarada’s heart that she hadn’t even realized was there. She’s perplexed, but not complaining in the slightest. “I guess you aren’t getting bewitched this year either,” she teases.
“Oh haha ,” Boruto scoffs sarcastically. “Neither are you, Miss Vampire.”
“I don’t even believe in that nonsense.” Sarada crosses her arms before suddenly eyeing something behind the Uzumaki. He can see the gears in her head begin to turn. “Hey, there’s a set of stairs over there.” Boruto is prompted to turn around and see the set of antique stairs with incredibly fancy railings. “Think they could lead to the chocolate fountain?”
“You think it’s upstairs?” It’s not a bad idea. It’s smart, even. Just what he’d expect from the ice priestess.
“It’s worth checking.” A determined smirk emerging on her face, she turns to make her way up the stairs. Boruto doesn’t stop her from dragging him by the wrist again, and when she catches herself doing so, she doesn’t feel particularly compelled to let go.
The blond slips the mask back on his face as the two of them make their way up the staircase, only it doesn’t seem to end at a second-floor as they had anticipated. In fact, it doesn’t seem to be ending at all. It just loops higher and higher in an infinite circle of stairs as if taunting them and their finite stamina.
“Maybe we should just go back down….” The ravenette contemplates as she wonders if the trip will even be worth it.
“Oh come on, I’m sure we’re almost at the top of wherever this leads,” the blond assures, so Sarada offers a nod as they keep walking step after step. The only sound to be heard at this point is the clicking of their heels on the hardwood stairs, as well as the occasional creaking.
This is by far the most fun Boruto has ever had at a Waltz — running around, exploring and fooling around the hall with Sarada, there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. He can’t help but wonder why she couldn’t come last year or the year before.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Boruto suddenly remarks, his tone not betraying a particular emotion.
“Well, I uh,” Sarada stutters, “I changed my mind.”
“Why?” His voice is suddenly quieter. “Did someone ask you out?” He stops walking, trailing behind Sarada as she is also induced to stop. She turns around to face him a few stairs behind her.
“You realize this is me we’re talking about, right?” She chuckles, wondering what gave rise to Boruto’s question. “As if I’d ever accept someone’s invite.” Boruto stays silent, making Sarada uncharacteristically nervous as she waits for him to say something.
Finally, he begins to walk again as he trails slightly ahead of Sarada, and she wordlessly follows him. She doesn’t know what to make of this sudden tension — just that she wants to erase it.
Not looking towards the ravenette, Boruto can’t help but voice his thoughts in a whisper. “Would you have accepted the invite if it was from me?”
Sarada’s legs stop moving as she processes his question, processing the fact that she can’t exactly bring herself to say ‘no.’ Only, Boruto suddenly screams of glee before she can think of a way to respond.
“Sarada!” This time it’s him that grabs her by the wrist. He’s wearing a mask, but she can still imagine the exact expression he’s making from his tone of voice. “Look up there!” He points to what appears to be the end of the staircase — and the chocolate fountain!? “We made it!” He exclaims, dragging her to the top of the staircase as the two of them dash to said fountain.
Sitting not far from the stairwell is an enormously grand fountain, oozing with silky rich chocolate that one could tell just by looks is ridiculously high-quality. Next to it is a cart of cake-pop sticks with an assortment of fruits and sweets to choose from.
“I think we’re the only ones that found the fountain so far,” Sarada chortles, grabbing a stick as she scans the different options.
“Well duh! It’s at the top of a gazillion stairs!” Boruto laughs, stabbing his stick into a freshly red strawberry and holding it under the stream of chocolate. “Not complaining though, we get it all to ourselves!”
“So childish,” The Uchiha retorts, failing to hold back a smile as she settles for a cluster of cherries and spins it throughout the chocolate. Boruto slips the mask upward onto his head, and Sarada suddenly wishes that he could just leave the damn get-up on. Something about Boruto’s face makes her ability to think rationally fly out the window. This is exactly why having fun with him is nothing but a risky gamble to her.
She isn’t used to seeing him smile so sincerely, which makes her wonder if perhaps she had miscategorized him. Was he always capable of looking at her like that? Was being herself around him all that she had to do to bring out this side of him? What is she supposed to do when he looks like… that?
His blue eyes meet hers, struggling not to look at her shiny red lips as he also fears getting lost in her ruby-red eyes. Fearing what he might say if they stay silent for too long, he holds his chocolate-covered strawberry up to her. “Cheers!”
“Oh–” she brings her cherry forward and touches it with his strawberry. “Cheers.”
With that, the both of them plop the treats into their mouths, quietly chewing as they can’t help but stare at each other. It feels as if time stops just for them as no matter how hard they try, they officially can’t seem to take their eyes off of eachother. It seems as if they’re somehow enchanted by each other. Boruto still can’t seem to take his eyes off of that shiny ruby-red.
Simultaneously, the two of them mirror each other's sour expressions as they scrunch up their faces in disgust.
“Well that tasted awful,” Sarada complains, tossing the stick into the garbage bin. “All that walking just for that?”
“It tasted way better last year, I swear!” Boruto insists, gawking at his half-eaten strawberry with its sad excuse of a topping. He remembers eating from the chocolate fountain last year — it had tasted sweet, top-quality, and completely worth it!
“Sure it did,” the Uchiha snides, offering him an amused expression in an attempt at calming her heart rate which now seems to escalate in his presence.
Her attention diverts to a fancy looking door slightly ahead of them. The knob clicks open as she turns it, pushing it open only to be met with the midnight sky!? It appears to be a balcony, and it suddenly dawns on her just how high up they are.
“Woah,” she gasps, to which Boruto walks onto the cobblestone balcony. She joins him, her legs apparently moving on their own now. “We’re so high up.”
“Do you think anyone would hear me if I screamed from up here?” The blond grins cheekily, to which Sarada rolls her eyes as-per habit.
“The moment you start screaming again I’m jumping off this balcony to my death.”
“Dramatic, much?”
Sarada playfully smacks the side of her fist into his chest as a gust of the late-night breeze engulfs them. She walks forward, placing her hands on the rustic gold railing as she looks at the view below them. The darkness is illuminated by the lights coming from the inside, as well as the colourful bulbs neatly arranged that can be spotted on the ground.
They’re met with an even more violent gust of wind, blowing her cape up and forwards as it lands on her face. Boruto fails to stifle his laugh at the comical sight.
“Here, let me fix that.” He walks towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders so that she pivots to face him. He takes a hold of her cape, letting his hands travel behind her to drape it back where it belongs. If she’s phased by the proximity of her face to his chest, she doesn’t show it. He pulls away, caught with the sight of her face which is now closer as well as her midnight hair which is now a disheveled mess. The Uchiha averts her eyes away, pink tinging her cheeks in embarrassment.
The blond tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and their faces being in such close vicinity to one-another is no longer a fact that they can ignore. Suddenly the chilly weather doesn’t mean anything to them as they only feel warmer and warmer, enveloping themselves into each other's body heat as the heartthrob nine-tailed kitsune doesn’t feel particularly compelled to let go of his icy vampire priestess.
Her eyes suddenly widen. “Wait, didn’t you say that the food tastes bitter if—”
The only thing that manages to break them out of their trance is the reverberating sound of a pendulum clock striking a grand sequence of dings. Their heads turn to the origin of the sound — an antique, wooden pendulum clock that hangs right behind the fancy door. Somehow, an hour has already passed since they arrived and it’s eleven o-clock at night.
As the last ding vibrates around the vicinity, Bewitching Hour has begun.
Sarada’s skin feels suddenly cold to the touch, inducing Boruto to let go of her as he suddenly does not feel right. His crafted tail feels way heavier than before, and he can’t help but feel acutely more aware of his surroundings. He’s suddenly able to hear the music all the way from the grand hall, smell the assortment of sweets at the table. And instantly, Sarada looks way prettier in his view.
The Uchiha wonders why she suddenly feels void of something — and why she’s that much more desperate to fill it. She lays her ruby-red eyes on the suddenly much more tantalizing Boruto, and utterly fears the urges that coarse through her.
Boruto has always known of Sarada’s pale skin, but now it looks significantly paler than before. Her porcelain face with those bloody eyes of hers almost have him under a spell that he seems to have grown addicted to. Each word that spills from those irresistible cherry lips is as alluring as it is magnetizing.
“Boruto….” Her voice is raspy as talking suddenly feels different with those two fangs that are now concerningly sharp. She has no choice but to avoid looking at him altogether to suppress the violent urge to plunge her lips onto him. “What’s going on?”
“Sarada you…” Boruto widens his eyes. “You look….like…..” The words barely come to him as his mind has gone into overdrive. He clears his throat, trying to mask the primal instinct to do things to her that would undoubtedly disarray their friendship forever. He doesn’t know why he feels way more compelled to give into his impulses — just what has made him suddenly more daring than ever?
“Hey, I feel kinda…..” Unfortunately her gaze still can’t help but gravitate towards his, and their eyes meet in a way in which you simply cannot go back from. “Boruto, your eyes!” His pupils are dilated, almost reminiscent of a cat that’s just laid eyes on their prey. Sarada’s teeth clench at the terrifying realization of what it is that she’s craving so much.
“What— what just happened?” His lips part. “This isn’t what the clock is supposed to do…?”
“Forget that,” Sarada rasps, her breaths growing heavy. “I– I need…”
“What is it? Are you alright!?” Boruto holds her by the shoulders in a panic. “I don’t know how, but I think we’ve somehow turned into—”
“ Boruto. ” Her ruby-red eyes bore into his. “I….I need—” The words struggle to come out in all her heated desire. “ Please. ”
“Oh,” the blond nods as if understanding her needs. He holds his wrist out to her, her eyes following his every movement. “Blood, right?” Her mouth falls ajar at his offer as he holds his wrist closer to her.
The icy vampire does not however go for the sly kitsune’s wrist.
“Shouldn’t you be dancing with your date right about now?” Shikadai, currently dressed as a goblin, raises an eyebrow at Chouchou who's at the moment chugging an entire cup of fruit punch.
“He’s not the one,” she sighs, tossing the cup into the garbage bin. “This punch is totally sweet.” She leans against the wall in disappointment, fiddling with the hem of her dress before her face suddenly lights up. “Is it too late to go find the pendulum clock?”
Shikadai shakes his head. “It’s eleven-o-two. Plus, I doubt you’d be able to find it if you’re not destined to have an enchanted encounter,” he shrugs.
“Huh? Why?”
“I dunno, I mean most people never even come across it. Who knows if the rumors about it are even true?” He yawns as if totally unamused by the overstimulating lights and music. Chouchou gives him a puzzled look to which he sighs. “Most people who search for it never even find it, so who knows how credible the stories are?”
“You’re telling me it might not entwine peoples’ destinies?” Chouchou purses her lips.
He smirks, eyeing a certain stairwell. “I'm saying that it's a mystery.”
If there's one thing that Boruto and Sarada have in common, it's that they're both incredulously stubborn when it comes to admitting that they want something.
But you'd never guess that by watching their current shamelessly desperate display on the top balcony. The shift is comical, really.
Boruto holds his wrist out to Sarada, pulling up the sleeve of his obi with his other hand. She gapes at him, utterly starstruck. “What?”
“You look like you'll pass out otherwise,” the blond chuckles, still struggling to look at her. “It's cool. I'm all yours, Miss Vampire.”
Sarada wants to tell him that he’ll regret saying that, but doesn’t have it in her to stop inching towards him. An exhilarated thrill pulses through each and every cold-blooded vein of hers as she slowly feels her discipline slip away. It’s just her and Boruto and the pendulum clock.
She pauses as her lips come into close proximity with his wrist. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for impact and expecting her to bare herself into said wrist any second. More seconds pass to which he still doesn’t feel her lips on his wrist, to which he contemplates opening his eyes. Only he doesn’t.
Her lips aren’t sucking on his wrist.
They’re kissing him. On the lips.
And now he’s kissing her back.
Needily, her arms drape around the back of his neck as if a snake that’s just latched onto its prey. They cling onto him, steadying her body against his as she deepens the kiss, feeling his kitsune ears twitch in excitement. All rationale soon falls out the window as Boruto gains a sudden confidence boost — guiding her body to the wall and slamming it there, giving him full access to her and her frantic touches.
They’re too far-gone to stop now, so why even try?
The sly kitsune suddenly pulls away, getting lost in the vampire’s ruby-red eyes which shine so brightly in the dark of the night. She’s about to protest. She’s about to tell him that she doesn’t know what’s happening to her and that she’ll only become so much worse if he stops now. He gives her a satisfied look.
Because her cherry-red lips are not quite as red as they were before
His lips meet her neck, angling her head upwards on the wall as she shrieks in pure elation. He offers breathy kisses, holding her by the waist as she can feel his hair swiftly graze her chin. He softly lines her collarbone, trailing her smooth skin before traveling back to her neck. He kisses her harder, inducing her head to fall backward as her breaths are now heaves, as are his.
The ice priestess lets her fingers cling onto the blond’s hair as she truly does not know what else to do with her palpitating fingers. Hastily, she snatches his sash off of him, revealing his undergarments as she’s just that desperate to bask in his warmth.
Not that he has any objections. The chilly breezes of the night no longer even register to him.
Their lips meet again — and this time it’s Boruto that deepens the kiss as his hands suddenly travel under her cape. His hands traverse her figure as they feel the curves of her body. He lets his tongue swirl in her mouth with a certain slyness and daringness to which she does nothing but reciprocate. They work so well together, as always.
But as a gust of wind blows in their direction and flails the ravenette’s cape in the air, everything changes again.
The warmth of Sarada slowly returns to her in a tingling sensation as she can feel her ‘fangs’ retreat mid-kiss. Life slowly returns to her skin as there’s now a faint pinkish hue to be found. Boruto knows exactly what’s happening as the overbearing weight of his ‘tail’ suddenly disappears, and the only thing he can hear is the sweet sounds of his ice priestess breathing against him.
She pulls back at the sudden shift, assessing his expression as she can feel her heart beating out of her chest. She’s scared. Scared that she did something that she shouldn’t have. He’s looking at her so intently and certainly — just what is she supposed to make of it?
She prepares herself to apologize and place all the blame on the pendulum clock or Bewitching Hour or whatever the legend is, no matter how badly her heart tells her otherwise. Surely there’s a way to fix this.
Boruto seems to think so too as he suddenly looks so sure of himself — so sure of what it is that he wants.
Sarada opens her mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out.
Because Boruto’s kissing her. Her words die in the back of his mouth as his index finger tilts her head upward for better access, and his tongue moves with hers in silent request.
Still somehow desperately craving his warmth and touch, Sarada’s eyes fall shut as she kisses him back without an inkling of discipline. She keeps her hands around the back of his neck again as she leans in closer, not a single thought going through her head that isn’t about how enchanting Boruto feels.
Standing on the fancy balcony of the Bloody Waltz is the school’s ice priestess and resident heartthrob, who no longer fear admitting when they want something.
He slowly unclips her cape, letting it fall to the floor as he grips the top hem of her dress. Time stops again as they’re lost in each other’s eyes, and Sarada silently nods, noticing the smudge of red that’s now near his lips.
“Still don’t believe in the legend?”
“Shut up before I push you off the ledge.”
Neither of them hear the pendulum clock strike midnight, the end of Bewitching Hour.