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Sarada woke up to the sound of the rain tapping against her window. The sky outside was endless grey with heavy and thick clouds. The wind howled softly, rattling the glass, making the whole world feel cold and empty. Puddles formed on the streets below, rippling under the continuous drizzle, while the trees stood lifeless, their leaves weighed down by the water. It was the kind of day where even the sun didn’t bother to rise, as if it, too, had given up.
It was actually her birthday, but it didn’t feel like a day of celebration. It felt like a funeral.
And maybe, in a way, it was... Sarada was dead.
Not physically, of course, but something inside her had died since the day that happened... since the day he was gone.
Her birthday had always been spent with Boruto. Always... It was their thing. They had shared every birthday together since they were kids, and no matter what had changed over the years, that never did.
Until now.
And now that he was gone, Sarada felt like he had taken the sun with him.
The world had never seemed so dark before. It wasn’t just the gloomy weather, the endless gray skies, or the way the cold bit through her clothes... it was everything. The air felt heavier, every breath she took was a struggle, and every step forward felt meaningless. Like she was walking in a world drained of color, like she was speaking into an empty void that would never answer back.
Without him, life felt like an endless tunnel of suffering, stretching on and on with no exit, no light, no warmth. Just pain. Just the aching realization that the one person who had always been there, the one person who understood, was gone... and possibly forever.
A sharp ring cut through the silence, pulling Sarada from the storm of her own thoughts. She blinked, turning her head towards the phone buzzing on her nightstand. For a second, she debated ignoring it, letting it ring until whoever was on the other side give up. But knowing that whoever was on the other line would just call again and bother her, she picked it up halfheartedly and pressed it against her ear.
"...Hello?" she answered blandly, not even bothering to make her voice happy just for the sake of it. Whoever was on the other side, Sarada wanted him or her to know that she was not having it.
“SARADA! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Sarada immediately pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing at the sheer volume of Chocho's voice. The sound practically exploded through the speaker and slapped her in the face. Sarada felt like she was talking to Chocho face to face.
She held the phone at arm’s length for a second, waiting for the ringing in her ears to die down before slowly bringing it back.
“…You don’t have to yell, Chocho,” she muttered, her voice still flat and drained.
Chocho, of course, ignored that completely. “Come on, birthday girl! You better not be moping around in bed.”
Sarada didn’t answer. Because that’s exactly what she was doing.
“Listen,” Chocho continued, unfazed by Sarada’s lack of response. “We’re all heading out to eat, and you have to come. Birthday girl and all.”
She barely reacted, just staring blankly at the ceiling as she listened. In the background, she could hear the usual chaos of the group with the sound of Inojin and Shikadai bickering, Wasabi chiming in with something sarcastic to Iwabee, as usual, and a few others laughing. The same stupid noise she used to be part of during their academy days. But she wasn’t anymore. She wasn’t sure she could be. When omnipotence happened, many things had changed... including her.
Sarada squeezed her eyes shut, fingers tightening around the phone.
“I’m not—”
“Nope!” Chocho cut her off before she could finish. “No excuses. You’ve been all cooped up and brooding, and honestly? It’s depressing. You need to get out.”
Sarada didn’t respond again. She was already preparing herself to refuse, coming up with some excuse to stay locked in her room where she could pretend none of this was happening. But then—
“Besides, Kawaki's gonna be thereeee. I know you would never refuse,” her voice took on a teasing tone, the one she always used when she was trying to push Sarada into admitting something she didn’t want to.
Her breath hitched as her eyes narrowed towards the ceiling. She hated it everytime she do that, yet cannot do anything because it will just cause suspicion.
"Stop it, Chocho," she muttered with a blank face, voice dangerously serious.
“Awww, don’t be shy! It’s okay, bestie, I totally get it.” Chocho's grin was practically audible. “I know you’ve got a thing for him. You two would be so—”
“I said stop it!” This time, Sarada’s voice was louder and colder. The teasing stopped. The laughter in the background quieted.
Oh, shit!
Sarada’s own voice echoed in her ears, sharper and harsher than she had intended. The moment the words left her mouth, she felt the weight of them settle in her chest. She lifted a hand and slapped it lightly against her face, exhaling shakily. Damn it.
It wasn’t their fault. None of this was. They were under the influence of that cursed power. The thing that had rewritten reality itself, twisting everything beyond recognition. They weren’t choosing to forget Boruto. They weren’t deliberately replacing him. They were victims, and she had no single right to be angry at them.
Sarada closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before bringing the phone back to her ear. “…sorry,” she muttered, her voice softer now. "I was just stressed lately..."
There was a brief pause before Chocho sighed. “Geez, Sarada. You don’t have to bite my head off, you know?” she said with a laugh. Her tone was lighter, but Sarada could feel the concern behind it. "It is fine, I understand you. I am your bestfried, remember??!!" She laughed on the other like, but Sarada knew that it was fake.
“I know,” Sarada admitted, feeling guilty on the way she acted earlier. She swallowed down the bitterness rising in her throat. “I’ll… I’ll show up— but just for an hour, okay? After that I'm up to go.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real.”
She could practically imagine the grin on Chocho's face returning. "Yeeeeeyyyyyy!!! I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
Sarada forced out a small, hollow chuckle, knowing that it would make Chocho feel better. Because, at the very least, if she couldn’t do anything else, she could at least pretend to be okay. For them.
"Anywayyyyy, we're meeting for dinner at that new restaurant near Thunder Burger—you know, the one that just opened? They’ve got some crazy promo going on for their grand opening, so we have to grab the opportunity. Half off everything, Sarada. HAFT OFF.”
She let out a slow breath, rubbing her temple. “Yeah, okay.”
“'Yeah, okay?' That’s all I get?” Chocho huffed. “Come on, Sarada, at least pretend to be excited!”
Sarada made a noise in the back of her throat that could’ve been an agreement, but it was too half-hearted to be convincing. She loved her best friend so much and actually felt bad about it, but she was just not having it.
“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just be there.” And with that, Chocho hung up.
Sarada groaned, flopping onto her bed. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to stay there, to sink deeper into the sheets and let the world move on without her. The weather didn’t help either; it was still gray, still cold, and still perfect for just rolling over and going back to sleep. But she did promise she’d go. So, with a heavy sigh, she forced herself to sit up.
Maybe a shower would help.
Dragging herself to the bathroom, she turned the water on, letting the warm spray hit her skin. It did little to ease the heaviness in her chest, but at least it shook off some of the morning sluggishness. When she was done, she grabbed a towel, drying herself off before stepping out into her room again.
She glanced over the window, watching as droplets clung to the glass. The rain had finally stopped, but the sun was still nowhere to be found, still hidden behind the same heavy, dark clouds. Sarada shrugged; at least she would not get wet for later.
Deciding that the time was actually running and not just waiting for her, she threw on a pair of simple denim shorts and a red t-shirt, pulling a jacket over it to fight off the chill of the weather. After a quick glance in the mirror, making sure she looked at least somewhat put together, she left her room halfheartedly.
The smell of food greeted her almost immediately. She padded into the kitchen, finding her mother at the stove, wearing her usual pink scrubs, preparing breakfast before heading to work.
“You’re on morning shift today?” Sarada asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down on the kitchen counter.
Her mother turned her head, and the moment her eyes landed on Sarada, they widened in shock.
“Sarada??!! Don’t scare your old mother like that!!”
She blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Mm, good morning to you too, Mama.”
The frown on Sakura’s face softened into a warm, loving smile. “Happy birthday to the best thing I ever created!” she said, placing a hand over her heart. “I love you so much, my love!”
Before Sarada could react, her mother leaned in, pressing kisses all over her face. “Mama—!” Sarada huffed, half-laughing, half-protesting, but she didn’t push her away. She just chuckled, letting herself soak in the warmth of her mother’s love. "You will get my face with your lipstick— Stopppp!!
“Muah! It is non-sticky— muah! Muah!!” Sakura exaggerated each kiss, grinning ear to ear before finally pulling back. She took a step back, looking at Sarada as a whole, and suddenly, her eyes became glassy.
“Awwww, I can’t believe you’re fifteen now!!” she sniffled, dramatically wiping the corner of her eye. “Just a while ago, you were this tiny—” She held her hands up, palms barely four inches apart. “—small enough to fit in my arms like a little peanut.”
Sarada rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. “Come on, Mama. It’s just a birthday, it’s not like I’m getting married or something," she joked, but that backfired immediately.
Sakura gasped, her hands flying to her chest as if Sarada had just stabbed her. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout, and within seconds, she was fake-wailing.
“NOOOOOOO!” she cried dramatically. “I don’t want to think about that!! My baby, my precious baby, getting married and leaving me behind—how could you say that to me?!”
Sarada groaned, but she couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out her lips. She knew her mother was just doing this to keep her happy. Her mother was not stupid to not know that there is something going on with her. The thing that puzzle her, tho, is her mama not asking anything about it. Not that she would tell her, of course. Sakura would lose her mind completely.
“Mama, I literally just said I wasn’t getting married. I'm gonna get that Hokage title, remember??"
Sakura sniffled, crossing her arms. “Still! Just the thought of it—”
“You’re so dramatic, Mama.” She laughed, wiping her face with the tissue napkin. And her mom was right, her lipstick was actually non-sticky. She might buy for herself next time.
Sakura scoffed, placing a steaming plate of breakfast in front of her. “I know that already,” she teased, tapping Sarada’s forehead gently with her fingers before sitting down beside her.
Sarada rolled her eyes but dug into her food anyway. The warm meal helped ease the tight feeling in her chest, even if just a little. They ate together in a comfortable silence, the soft clinking of utensils and the distant sound of morning birds outside filling the space. It was… nice. A moment of peace. A moment where things felt normal.
In the moment of silence, Sakura sighed sadly, setting her chopsticks down. “I’m sorry I can’t stay with you this morning, sweetheart,” she said, giving Sarada an apologetic smile. “I have two major operations today, so I’ll be stuck at the hospital for a while.”
Sarada raised her gaze and shook her head. “It’s fine, Mama. I understand.”
“But!” Sakura raised a finger. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll bring home your favorite cake later, and we’ll celebrate until the last hour of your birthday! How about that?!”
Sarada chuckled softly. “You don’t have to do all that.”
Sakura gasped dramatically. “Of course I do! What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t properly celebrate the day my perfect daughter was born?”
She just smiled, shaking her head. “Well… it’s fine, really. I’m heading out with my friends later anyway.”
That information seemed to brighten her mother up immediately. She could not blame her, it has been a long time since she went out with her friends, especially having to pretent to hate on him for the thing he did not do.
“Really?” she beamed, clasping her hands together. “That’s great! It’s been a while since you’ve gone out with them.”
Sarada simply hummed in response, finishing the last of her meal before grabbing the glass of water.
Sakura, still smiling, continued, “And I’m really happy you’re spending time with Kawaki too. That boy needs someone like you in his life, after, you know... Hinata and Naruto died.”
Sarada’s hand froze slightly over her glass of water, the cool surface pressing against her palm feels like colder than usual.
Sakura, who didn't seem to notice, just sighed, stirring the remains of her breakfast absentmindedly. “It must be hard for him. Losing them like that. You, of all people, should understand how it feels.”
There it was again. That subtle push. That silent expectation from her mother or from everyone else. As if she and Kawaki were supposed to bond over their shared loneliness and trauma together. As if their grief was meant to complement each other match somehow. As if she was supposed to find comfort in him because her father was gone too. Hah! As if he did not do it for himself!
She forced herself to swallow down the irritation bubbling inside her. Instead, Sarada took a sip of water, hoping it would keep her from saying something she’d regret. Because what the hell was that supposed to mean? Her father wasn’t gone or dead. He was out there, protecting the one person everyone else had abandoned. He was doing what no one else had the strength to do.
It wasn’t her mother’s fault, actually. She was just tired of spending years waiting, hoping that it was all a mistake, tired of fighting for the man she loved. Sakura had always defended Sasuke. Always believed in him, even when the entire world was against him. Even when he had left her behind all those years ago. But now… Now, it felt like even she was starting to believe the rumors that Uchiha Sasuke had betrayed Konoha once more.
Sarada swallowed the lump in her throat, setting her glass down carefully. "Well, I guess..." she lied, keeping her voice as even as she could.
The cake sat on the table, untouched.
A small, simple thing that her friends had pooled their pocket money together to buy, sitting right in front of her with a single candle flickering weakly on top, the only source of movement in the suffocating silence of the table.
She should have blown it out already. Made a wish. Smiled for a picture. Let her best friend fuss over her, let Namida and Sumire pamper her with sweet greetings, let Inojin try to sneak a piece before she’d even cut it. Instead, she was locked in a silent staring contest with the man sitting across from her. Staring at him hard enough, the world would right itself, and Kawaki would crumble under the weight of everything he’d stolen.
Kawaki...
His face was blank and serious, per usual, as his arms lazily rested on the table. His posture was relaxed, sitting in the very seat that was supposed to belong to someone, as none of this shit happened because of his stupidity and selfishness.
Give his life back, you stupid asshole!
Sarada’s fingers twitched on her lap, itching to summon her chakra and Chidori him at this moment. The thought was a stupid one, just like him. But for a split second, she really wanted to.
She wanted to watch the crackle of blue lightning in her palm, hear the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart, the sharp, wet splurge of his red blood as her hand buried itself deep into his chest. Wanted to feel the warmth of his blood spill over her fingers, thick and hot, staining her skin as his breath hitched. Wanted to watch as his body jerked from the force of the impact, his ribs cracking under the sheer pressure of her attack. Wanted to hurt him. To make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused. To make him pay for what he had done.
But she didn’t. Because no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t. If she did, it would ruin everything. It would blow the fragile cover that she and Sumire fought to keep standing, So, instead, she clenched her fists beneath the table, nails digging deep into her palms until she could feel the blood drawn.
The people around them weren't stupid to notice the tension behind those four piercing eyes bore down on the table, thick enough to make the air suffocating.
“Alright, everyone!” Chocho suddenly clapped her hands together, her voice louder than necessary to catch their attention. “The food isn’t gonna just appear in our stomachs if we keep sitting here all weird! Let’s dig in!”
The moment shattered. People shifted in their seats, letting out small, nervous laughs. Someone reached for the food, plates clinked together, and just like that, the awkward silence was pushed away.
Throughout her birthday party, despite having no energy at all from sitting across from him, Sarada still played her part. She engaged when necessary, nodding along to conversations and forcing small smiles when someone directed a comment her way. She even managed to laugh a few times, just light, practiced chuckles that weren’t entirely fake but weren’t entirely real either. It was enough to keep her friends from worrying and enough to make Chocho stop watching her so closely.
“Man, I swear they put something in the seasoning here,” Inojin mumbled, stuffing another bite into his mouth. “It’s stupidly good.”
“Or maybe you’re just stupidly hungry,” Shikadai muttered, side-eyeing him.
Inojin pointed his chopsticks at him. “Listen here, lazy ass—”
Sarada snorted lightly as the two bickered, shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink. But every now and then, her eye would travel in his direction, and every time she did, he was exactly sitting the same. Kawaki hadn’t touched his food, joined a single conversation, or spoken since he sat down. He just sat there, staring off into the distance.
Sarada exhaled through her nose and looked away. If he wanted to be Boruto, if he wanted to steal his life, then he should at least have the decency to live it.
Without her realizing it, their conversation flowed, plates emptied, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything was normal like it used to be before.
“So, Sarada,” Chocho smirked, leaning forward with her chin in her palm. “Since you’re the next Hokage-bound and all, I gotta ask—will us peasants get discounts at this restaurant once you’re in office?”
Sarada rolled her eyes. “You think I’m gonna use my political power for food discounts?”
“Uh, yeah?” Chocho huffed. “What else is power for?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s for running the village,” Wasabi chimed in, amused.
“Lame,” Chocho muttered, stabbing at her food dramatically.
“You wouldn’t even need a discount if you didn’t spend all your money on extra-large portions,” Inojin pointed out, dodging the chunk of meat Chocho immediately tried to throw at him.
“Wow, Inojin,” she sneered. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Nope,” he said with a grin, clearly proud of himself.
Shikadai groaned, rubbing his temple. “I swear, every time we eat together, it’s like babysitting a bunch of toddlers.”
By the time their plates were empty and their stomachs were full, the once-lively chatter had started to slow.
Chocho leaned back in her chair, patting her stomach with satisfaction. “Alright, now that was a meal. Worth every last Ryo.”
“I can’t believe you ate that much,” Namida muttered in disbelief, staring at the empty dishes stacked in front of Chocho.
“I deserved it,” she shot back. “It’s not every day I get to eat like this without going broke.”
Shikadai let out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “I think that’s our cue to call it a night.”
Sarada blinked, suddenly realizing just how late it had gotten. The restaurant had emptied out significantly since they arrived, and outside the large glass windows, the street lamps cast long, tired shadows onto the still-wet pavement.
It was time to go.
One by one, they all got up, gathering their things and heading for the door. However, it wasn’t until they were already outside, standing beneath the dull glow of the streetlights, the cool night air brushing against their skin, that someone noticed.
“Wait,” Inojin frowned, glancing around. “Where’s Kawaki?”
Sarada’s face twisted slightly. She turned her head, scanning the area, but he was gone. Had been for a while, probably. And no one had even noticed.
“…Huh,” Chocho muttered, unimpressed. “Guess he just left.”
Sarada said nothing. She wasn’t surprised at all. It was just like him to slip away without a word, to disappear like he had no real reason to be there in the first place.
Or maybe he didn’t.
Maybe he was starting to realize what she had already known from the very beginning. That no matter how much he took, no matter how much he tried to fill Boruto’s place. He could have his name, his home, even his family, but he would never have he would never feel the real love and the unbreakable bond that Boruto had with the people around him.
Kawaki would never be him.
Sarada pushed the thought aside when Chocho suddenly turned to her, grinning. “Anyway! Happy birthday again, birthday girl!”
One by one, they all joined in, echoing her words with warm smiles.
“Happy birthday, Sarada.”
“Hope you had fun.”
“Don’t disappear on us again, okay?”
"Yeaaahhh!! You know that we'd miss you!!"
"We love you, Sarada!! If you need someone to talk to, we are just here, okay??!"
Sarada’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers curling into the hem of her shirt. She looked at them... at the people who had stayed, the people who had missed her, the people who still cared, even if they didn’t know the truth.
And for the first time in a long time… She didn’t feel so alone anymore.
A small, genuine smile tugged at her lips as she nodded, warmth filling the hollow ache in her chest. Their love and care wrapped around her, pulling her away from the exhaustion and sadness that had weighed on her all day.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Thanks, guys. I really enjoyed my birthday with you all.”
Shikadai stretched his arms over his head, letting out a tired sigh before turning to her. “It’s already late. I’ll walk you home.”
Sarada shook her head, waving him off. “It’s just three streets away. I can handle myself.”
Shikadai didn’t look convinced. He studied her for a moment and eventually just exhaled through his nose and gave a small nod. “Alright. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“No promises.” She smirked, shaking her head playfully, and tucked her tongue out.
And with that, they all parted ways, stepping into the quiet streets, their footsteps fading into the night. Sarada watched them go, standing still for just a moment longer before turning on her heel.
As she walked where the silence cradled her into its vast arms, while the crickets whispered secrets only the moon could hear as his first soft light stretched out from the shadows of clouds before him.
Sarada slowed, blinking as the world around her brightened, and instinctively, she lifted her head, mesmerized by the full moon above her that had finally broken free, peeling himself away from the suffocating grip of the heavy clouds.
He moved slowly, carefully, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.
His light was cold, yet enduring. Distant, yet comforting. A lone celestial body surrounded by endless darkness... just like someone she knew.
Boruto.
Sarada inhaled sharply. Throughout the day, she had spent so much time forcing herself not to think about him, not to feel the ache of his absence. But staring at the moon now, at the silver glow so eerily familiar to the light in his eyes, she couldn’t stop the memories of him flooding back.
The way he had always stood out, even in the darkest moments. The way that special eye of his had resembled this very sky, a light carved into the abyss, proof that even in the deepest night, something brighter still remained.
And if he was the moon... Then what was she? The one who shone in the daylight. The one who was strong? The one who led the way? She honestly doesn't know.
Boruto had always been the light to everyone before. The boy who brought warmth and brightness wherever he went, the one who pulled people into his orbit effortlessly. He was the kind of person who made the coldest days feel like summer, who made even the deepest shadows seem a little less suffocating.
But when his world went dark, when the warmth he carried was stolen from him, when the people he loved turned their backs, Sarada was the one who shined for him. She was the one who refused to let him disappear into the abyss and burned in his place.
She had become his sun.
But without the moon beside her, the sky felt empty. No matter how high she reached, no matter how brightly she burned, she would always turn to find him trailing behind. Watching over her.... waiting.
Sarada exhaled, tilting her head up, her gaze locked onto the moon as it hung heavy in the night sky.
"You must be lonely up there, huh?" she thought bitterly, her throat tightening.
It was his birthday, too, but unlike her, who was still surrounded by people she cherished the most despite their memories being altered with some magic, Boruto was out there alone with her father, still contemplating if he could still trust him. With no one to celebrate with. No one to remind him how much he was loved. No one even remembers he existed at all.
Her fingers curled into fists. "How unfair can this world be?" she wanted to ask. "How cruel does it have to be to take everything from you."
She felt her chest heavy as she closed her eyes, the cold air brushing against her skin as she whispered so softly.
"Happy birthday, Boruto." A wish sent to the moon, knowing it would never be heard.
The day and the night, the sun and the moon. Two halved of something greater, locked in the endless cycle of never meant to exist apart.
Just like her and Boruto.
Separated... Lost... and probably never together again.
Sarada exhaled, finally tearing her gaze away. Because no matter how much she longed for it, wishing wouldn’t bring him back. And no matter how much the sun loved the moon, they could never share the same sky.
Sarada’s silent thoughts were abruptly cut short when she felt something small and cold land against her foot. She blinked, startled, and glanced down and saw a toad sitting there, its slimy body barely visible against the dimly lit ground. In its mouth, clumsily nibbled between its lips, was a single red rose.
She frowned. The flower seemed far too delicate in the creature’s grip, its petals trembling slightly as the toad adjusted its hold. Then, as if realizing it was being watched, the toad’s body gave a slight glow before it let out a soft croak, letting the flower fall down next to her foot. And with a sudden hop, it disappeared into the darkness.
Sarada remained still, watching the red rose. Normally, she hated slimy things. She would’ve kicked her foot, cringed, maybe even shuddered at the thought of being touched by something like that.
But for some reason, something in the back of her mind told her to pick it up. Before she could even act on the impulse, a voice rang out from the entrance of their apartment.
“SARADA, IS THAT YOU?”
She blinked, snapping out of her trance. Her gaze shifted from the flower toward the open doorway, where her mother’s voice carried out into the night. She didn't even realize she was already in their apartment building.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m home,” she called back.
“Oh, perfect timing! I already set up your cake! Come here, sweetheart!”
Sarada’s eyes drifted back down to the rose at her feet. It was a strange incident, random, too. Yet, as she stared at the rose, she found herself contemplating.
After a moment, she shrugged. Then, without another thought, she bent down, plucked the rose from the pavement, and turned toward the door.
“Okay! I’m coming!!” she called, stepping inside.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the cold, empty night of the forest.
Boruto sat still on the fallen tree, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames, watching as embers curled into the air before vanishing into the darkness. From behind him, a shadow loomed, its presence heavy, but he didn’t bother looking up.
"Do you have to do that, Boruto?" The voice was laced with disapproval. "You know how dangerous it is if anyone finds out."
He exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. From beneath the folds of his long cloak, he lifted a hand, palm open, revealing a small toad resting in it. The creature blinked up at him before letting out a soft croak.
"Nothing happened, right?" Boruto murmured, tilting his head just enough to give his companion a side glance. "So it’s fine."
Silence followed. His companion didn’t say anything, but Boruto could feel the unspoken warning hanging in the air. Still, Boruto didn't care. Instead, his gaze trailed upward toward the sky, toward the full moon that had finally decided to break free from the clouds.
He stared at it, its pale glow reflecting in his lone blue eye.
“…Besides,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It’s just a small thing… the least I can do for her."
Sarada... Happy Birthday.
END.