Archive of Our Own ^beta

The music box was her only escape from the cruel reality of her condition in the shack, locked away with nothing but the never-ending tortuous days. Sarada had tried to keep track of the days she had spent so far in the shack, but she lost track after day fifty.

Day and night, she’d lull herself in the sound of the music box, hoping for a different outcome but it never came. It was always the same.

Opening her eyes after relaxing in the darkness of the closet, Sarada glanced over at the music box as it came to an end, signaling for her to wind it back again. Her stomach rumbled with starvation and her mouth was parched from dehydration. It was beyond her how she had survived this far, surviving off the minimal water and meals brought to her by her generous captor.

With minimal movements to save energy so she’d survive another day, Sarada moved to wind back the music box, spinning the handle several times so it’d run on for a long time. Her hands were shaking from lack of energy but she did her best because her music box was her hope. As long as she heard the beautiful medley run on, she felt bubbling hope inside her. Perhaps, it was naive and she knew it was but she’d cling onto it. As long as you’d believe in something, you will begin to delude yourself into it and she has nothing to lose. She was already locked up with no escape.

Slowly, she began winding the music box again, staring intently as her frail arms moved in a circular motion. The music box began to play and she was captivated by the tranquil sound it made.

Something caught her attention away the music box and her eyes found them on the boarded up door to the closet, her ears picking up something other than the music box. The shack was normally quiet as it was abandoned so she instantly feared that her captor was back. Normally, her captor would never show their face, always stopping by when she was sleeping so she was terrified by the unknown.

She heard footsteps and then a loud noise of someone before something was trying to break in. An axe aimed at the boarded door was launched and Sarada scattered away in fear, eyes in panic. Her music box rolled away as a result of her actions but continued to play as the perpetrator attempted to come into the closet. Sarada hid under the desk, trying to blend in with the shadows. Maybe if she'd appear small, they would not see her. 

The door burst to pieces, wooden planks crumbling and a childish grunt was heard as her perpetrator fell in onto the door, the axe flying to the side. Sarada continued to hide, watching them as her body trembled. She hoped they wouldn’t see her. It was difficult to control her body and that meant she couldn’t maintain stillness in her hideout.

It was useless though. The person who had burst in, which she presumed was a kid like her, spotted her immediately.

“Are you okay?” they asked in concern, glancing at her from their spot at the door.

The light from the moonlight was illuminating their figure and Sarada squinted, adjusting her glasses. They were wearing a brown paper bag over their head but judging by the voice, it was a boy. He wore an olive trench coat with a brown shirt and brown pants, feet bare. He definitely was not her captor and his overall presence was not intimidating.

Still, Sarada coward back, not trusting them.

“Hey,” he voiced again, “it' okay. I heard the music box from outside and came.”

“M-Music box?” Sarada whispered, her eyebrows furrowing together.

He nodded slowly and tried to come closer, extending his arm for her to grab, a gesture he’d hope she would trust. “Come here, I won’t hurt you,” he said. “We can escape together. My name is Boruto.”

“Escape?” Sarada repeated, still wary. Her eyes glanced at the door behind him and then back at his gesture.

Boruto, as he had introduced himself, nodded once again. “Yes, escape. We can escape. Find a way out of here.”

Debating for a moment, Sarada stayed silent and weighed out the odds. Boruto waited patiently, sensing her apprehension toward her. Her black eyes landed on the music box which was still playing and she remembered her belief in the music box. The boy in front of her was the result of the medley played by the music box. He followed the sound, breaking into her room.

The music box brought her hope. Her hope in escaping was in front of her, an opportunity to leave this place.

Sarada came out of hiding and took his outreached hand: her newfound hope.