Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started slowly. He didn’t fully realize what was happening until he woke up one night, puzzled, not remembering a single thing about his surroundings, or himself, for that matter. By the time he remembered what his name was, the sun had already risen, and his mind finally registered that he just spent hours in his favorite spot at the Hokage Rock.

Boruto was fine—he was, right? Everything should be. He managed to defeat Jura and Code, and both his parents were released from wherever the hell Kawaki sealed them. Momoshiki was no longer in his body, and the Omnipotence was reversed.

He might be blind in one eye now, but it was something that he could manage. It doesn’t even matter if sometimes his perception of spaces got fucked, ninjas lose their eyes all the time. It was fine. By default, everything should be back to the way it is. His dad is the Hokage again, and Boruto could come home to the warm embrace of his family.

But why why does his gut keep telling him that something is wrong?

Boruto returned to his usual activities as a ninja, taking missions with his team. Technically, he was only allowed to take D and C-rank missions. Still, considering his special circumstances and ability, they decided to let him take B-rank missions with Sarada and Mitsuki.

He also heard the talk about promoting him as a Jonin, although he couldn’t care less about it. At this point, ranks don’t really matter to him. He was fine with anything as long as he could take missions with his old teammates again.

Boruto wished that the familiarity of doing missions with Team 7 could settle the anxiety in his stomach–that maybe once everything resembles a certain degree of normalcy, he wouldn’t feel that something ought to get him.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

His teammates must have noticed that he talked less than before all hell broke loose, but they never asked him about it. They have never talked about anything that has happened in the past few years. They never talked about how Boruto was hurting for the years he was away, how Sarada had to keep her pain to herself because no one remembered the truth about Boruto (except Sumire, which turned into being unhealthy to their relationship so fast), or how Mitsuki blamed himself for not remembering Boruto, his sun.

Whenever Boruto started spacing out during their conversations, Sarada and Mitsuki assumed he just wanted some time alone and respected his need for privacy. They never noticed that behind those empty stares, he was feeling disoriented–he couldn’t, for the love of god, figure out where the hell he was and who these two people he was talking to in front of him were.

The final nail in the coffin was when he suddenly forgot the hand seal for a jutsu in the middle of a fight. He got a stab wound from that encounter. The girl with glasses tried to tend his wound, telling him to stay awake while the blue-haired boy stared at him warily.

The next thing he knew was that he was suspended from missions. He was mad at first and yelled at the Hokage for his decision because who the fuck does he think he is? But then his dad pulled out the ‘this is an order from the Hokage’ card, and all Boruto could do was stomp out of the Hokage’s office, ending their conversation right here and there.

It was weird. Back then, he was begging for his dad to look in his direction, begging for him to spend time with him and maybe care enough about his well-being outside of the surface level of ‘How was your day?’. But now, when he did it, it irritated Boruto so much that he couldn’t stand it. Instead of feeling cared for, all he could feel was his dad always doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Boruto tried to sneak into Sarada and Mitsuki’s mission after that. But they would always say no to him, and no matter how stubborn he was, Sarada and Mitsuki remained unmoved by their decision. What hurt the most was Mitsuki, who always did anything to be with him, suddenly firm on refusing to let Boruto join his mission.

Mitsuki repeatedly said that Boruto needed a break and that it would be good for him. But he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by both Mitsuki and Sarada. He was convinced that Sarada somehow manipulated Mitsuki into agreeing with her.

Besides, they were wrong. Nothing was wrong with him. He is fine. The fact that his enemy managed to stab him was merely a false judgment on his part. They shouldn’t be suspending him because of a small mistake.

But nothing could convince the people around him, especially Sarada and Mitsuki. They were all convinced that Boruto fucked up so badly that his weakness was showing. Maybe everyone thought that he was broken.

Well, were they wrong?

Shut up.

Boruto refused to meet Sarada and Mitsuki. Sarada called her out for being petty, but Boruto couldn’t care less about it. He wasn't the one who disowned his teammates. Sarada and Mitsuki would spend an hour in front of his bedroom door before finally giving up and leaving, taking Boruto’s messages loud and clear.

They never visited him again after that.

Konohamaru Nii-chan came to visit. He tried to apologize to Boruto, saying he felt bad for arresting him and for not remembering anything about him despite always seeing Boruto as a younger brother. Boruto was stunned and silent for a moment before realizing he should probably reassure Konohamaru that it was alright, that it was all in the past, and they should just move on already.

Konohamaru Nii-chan stared at him with guilt written in his eyes that Boruto couldn’t stand looking at him. He refused to meet Konohamaru after that.

Now that Boruto had too much free time, he tried to keep himself busy around the house. Every morning, he finished all the chores before his mom woke up—not that he got much sleep these days, anyway. He figured he might as well start the day early. He prepared his dad’s clothes, cooked breakfast, and packed lunches for Himawari and his dad.

Himawari had started leaving the house more now that she was a genin with a three-man cell. Since Boruto did not need to pick his little sister up anymore, he worked in his mom’s garden in the afternoon. Sometimes, he would also clean the house or do grocery shopping—anything to keep himself busy.

His memory problem didn’t get worse, but it didn’t get better either. He often found himself disoriented in the middle of a conversation, forgetting who he was talking to. This is why he preferred to talk with two people at once: whenever he forgot, he could just let the other person pick up the conversation.

When he forgot his name, he just waited until someone called a name repeatedly. He figured out that if he didn’t respond for a while, that meant said person was calling his name. As for the other people, he would wait until one of them name-dropped each other. He couldn’t help but feel proud that he found a way to work around his condition without making people around him worry.

Boruto tried playing video games to feel some sense of ‘normalcy.’ But instead of feeling content like he was supposed to, dread pooled in his stomach. He realized he threw his game console to the ground when he finally turned it on. His mom came in to check on him, and he lied. He told her that he was mad at failing, so he threw the console out of anger.

He was waiting to get scolded, but all he got was his mom’s lavender eyes staring at him worriedly.

He found himself being repulsed with things he used to like years ago. He tried to buy his favorite spicy burger from Thunder Burger once and immediately threw it up when the taste hit his throat. He found his friends crowding up in front of the card game shop they often frequent, and he found himself walking the other way so that his friends wouldn’t see him.

Boruto hadn’t even realized that his memory problem had started getting worse. It would usually last for seconds, until it became minutes, until one day, it became hours, and his mom found him in one of the corners of their house, holding a knife that he didn’t remember picking up.

He felt… lost. He felt wrong. He felt like a jagged puzzle you couldn’t put in its place. It scared him a lot. Maybe something was indeed wrong. Maybe something inside him was broken, and there was no way to fix it.

He would love to talk about it to his brother. Maybe he knew if this was some kind of side effect from karma. But Kawaki was on a year-long mission outside of Konoha. The council had decided to forgive him for sealing the Hokage away, but he had to prove his loyalty to Konoha by taking a mission they had assigned.

Kawaki still exchanged letters with them, but Boruto found that his feelings were too complicated to be written on a piece of paper. Usually, Hinata or Himawari would write something back to him. Hima offered him once to write something, but Boruto found himself stuck on a blank paper, not knowing what to write.

He was frustrated by it. It wasn’t like their relationship was in a bad place or something. Like, sure, maybe Boruto still held a grudge over his attempted murder and losing his right eye because of that, or the fact that his brother sealed their parents away into some unknown dimension and turned his life to hell for the past years.

But it was fine. They talked–and even if the talk wasn’t enough and it was mostly Boruto brushing off everything into ‘it’s okay,’–Boruto had forgiven Kawaki, so everything should go back to the way it was. He should be able to write something for his brother, but he couldn’t find any despite racking his brain overnight looking for a topic.

In the morning, Boruto lied and told Hima that she should have written the letter anyway because his handwriting was unreadable, and he didn't want Kawaki to protest.

Boruto didn’t miss the way Himawari’s smile faltered.

It gets worse.

He would black out a whole day, not remembering the slightest thing he did or said, only coming back to himself occasionally. Sometimes, he was around his family during dinner. Other times, he would lie in his bed at night. One time, he was out with Sarada and Mitsuki.

Which was… strange. He didn’t remember resolving his issues with both of them. But he won’t be around that much to stress about it anyway, so he would just let it go.

He knew he should tell someone about this, but none of his thoughts stayed in his head long enough to hold onto them. Besides, no one around him seemed to notice anything was wrong. He must have been pretending well enough.

At one point, he came back to Sarada, hugging him so tightly that his body started to hurt. They were at one of the train stations, and he could hear Sarada frantically asking him what the fuck were you doing? But all he cared about at that moment was how warm the hug was. He didn’t have the energy to hug her back, so he just put his head deeper into the crook of Sarada’s neck. It was nice. It felt familiar, just like how it used to.

After that incident, he could feel the world around him shift. He was sure that people around him always made sure someone was around to accompany him. But he couldn’t pay attention enough to care about it. He found himself appreciating the company–whoever it was.

He drifted again, and the next thing he knew, someone pulled his arm back. He realized that he was in front of the river, and if it weren’t for the guy who pulled him back, he would be walking straight to it. He tried to tug his arm back from the guy’s grip, but the guy tightened his grip instead.

He was about to protest, but it all died when he looked at the guy’s face. He looks… familiar, and feels he should know this guy. Long hair, long enough to cover his left eye with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Boruto blinked and suddenly the world shifted.

He was met with Sakura-san's concerned expression. He realized that he had somehow ended up in the hospital. He was sitting on the scratchy sheet of the hospital bed, with Himawari at his side, circling her arm around his torso. He could hear the faint voice of his dad and Sasuke having a heated conversation.

His gaze drifted across the room. His mom was wringing her hands beside his dad, her face pale with worry. Sarada stood stiffly by the door, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning him as if looking for answers. Mitsuki stayed quiet but was watching him intently, his usual calm expression giving way to a faint furrow in his brow.

Sakura-san told everyone in the room about the result of his diagnosis. She disclaimed that it was mostly her hunch, gathering information from what his family and friends explained and further examination was needed. Because what Boruto had wasn't something that could be detected physically, it was something that affected his mind.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD. Something common among shinobis. Hell, you practically signed up to get one the day you decided you wanted to be shinobi. The case becomes less common now that the world is at peace and each village has advanced enough to provide help to any shinobis who experience it.

Sakura-san explained (mostly to him) that it was normal, considering all he had gone through. She told him stories about how Kakashi Sensei had one and that everything would be okay. He would get through it because he had his family and friends around to help.

He didn't know how to react to all the information he received. It was hard figuring out what he was feeling these days. Should he be happy? Relieved? Should he cry? That seems like a reasonable reaction when you receive information telling you that you're sick in the head.

But no matter how hard he tried to cry, the tears never came. It was like a wall was separating his thoughts and his emotions. He knew what he should be feeling, yet the emotion never responded. All he could do was hug Himawari back. It seems like she understood what was happening because her hug got tighter as Sakura-san explained his treatment plan in detail.

Boruto was questioned further about his symptoms. He knew better than to explain everything. He really didn’t want everyone in the room to get more worried–Himawari, especially. So, he only answered the question that was asked.

How long has this been going on? A week after his fight with Jura ended, after Kawaki left the village for the mission. What do you notice when things feel this way? That he kept forgetting everything around him, and making new information stick in his head was getting harder.

How long would the episodes last?

Boruto was thinking about lying. He could make up a believable lie, telling them it would only last for hours. But considering how Sarada and Sasuke found him, they would immediately know his lie.

So he told them the truth. He told them that it started from seconds, minutes, and hours and would now last to the point he couldn't remember exactly when it began and ended.

He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes while answering, afraid of what he would see. Is anyone staring at him in anger? Angry that he didn’t tell them earlier? Is anyone staring at him in disappointment? Disappointed because how come the shinobi who practically saved the world got beaten by his own mind?

Boruto found himself most afraid of everyone staring in concern. It made the most sense, yes, but the thought of anyone worrying over him made his skin crawl. He didn’t deserve it. He had technically brought this on himself. Why should anyone care?

He listened as Sakura-san explained that he would probably need to spend the next few weeks hospitalized, meeting therapists to help him heal, and that, at some point, he might also need to take medication.

He could only nod when Sakura-san asked if he agreed to this. He was pretty sure they’d send him anyway, whether he agreed or not, but he appreciated the illusion of choice. It was nice, in a way, to feel like his autonomy was still respected—even if only in small, inconsequential ways.

They moved Boruto to the psych ward section of the hospital.

He heard a lot of rumors about places like these. They said that the psych ward was made to house crazy people, and if you went to one, then that meant you were insane. He also heard something about how the nurses would torture the insanity out of you.

Boruto trusted his parents that they wouldn’t send him to the psych ward if the rumors were true. But even if it was true, he couldn’t care less anyway. He probably would not be present all the time during his stay, and maybe his mind was too broken that there was no way to fix it unless they tortured it out of him.

It was fine. He was not afraid of staying in the ward. Not at all.

His parents accompanied him to his new room in the ward. The nurse explained how Boruto would stay in this room for the time being while his mom put away his clothes in the drawer with the help of his dad. The nurse kept talking about rules, activities, and everything else, and Boruto just nodded to her words.

It was hard for him to sleep that night. He was dreading what would happen in the morning. So far, he hasn't heard any screams; the only noise he heard was when the nurse outside accidentally dropped an iron box full of medicines.

The room he stayed in was also… normal. It wasn't as gloomy as he had expected. None of the rumors he had heard about this place got proven right. Maybe he had to wait until the morning?

Boruto finally managed to sleep after the nurse gave him some sleeping meds. One of the nurses had checked up on him, and when she found out that he had trouble sleeping, she handed him a small pill. He later discovered that Sakura-san prescribed it for him just in case he had trouble sleeping.

At first, he thought the nurse was going to force-feed him, but instead, the nurse asked him whether or not he wanted to take the pill, and when he said yes, the nurse helped him by bringing a glass of water and handing him the pill gently.

The next day, he woke up, and the nurse ushered him and the other kids to the dining room. He was finally able to see the other patients in the ward. There were around 20 kids in that room, with no adult patients around. Maybe they currently have no adult patients, or maybe they have a separate section.

Boruto chose an empty table before waiting for the nurse to distribute the breakfast. When he received his food, a kid with a sharp face sat in front of him. The raven-haired boy was staring at Boruto with a look he couldn’t decipher. His high cheekbones and angular jawline were giving Boruto bad news, but he just stared back at the boy and waited for what the boy had to say.

“You’re Uzumaki Boruto, right?” The boy finally said, he was surprised with how soft-spoken he is, it was such a contrast from his hard expression.

It alerted him that the boy immediately mentioned his name. After these past years, it's never good news whenever someone slide into his table and asked him his name. They tend to ask for a fight.

“Relax, I’m not looking for a problem,” the boy reassured him, as if he was reading his mind. “There were words going around that you’re going to stay here, can't believe it's true,”

Boruto stared at the boy, not sure what to say. Getting the sign that he wouldn't talk, the boy continued, “I’m Yuta. It’s nice to meet you.”

The boy extended his hand, and Boruto grabbed it. “Nice to meet you, Yuta.”

Yuta explained about the other children in the ward. There were three ninja patients, including Boruto, while the rest were civilians. One of the other ninja patients was a kunoichi who had completely closed herself off from everyone. Despite having already been there for three weeks, Yuta hadn’t been able to find a way to befriend her.

“I lost my teammate to one of the shinju,” Yuta muttered. “It was… it was my fault, I was the team leader during the mission, I wasn't fast enough to save them.”

Boruto shuddered at the mention of shinju. He almost lost his life fighting Jura, any thought that reminds Boruto of the shinjus always leaving him with discomfort that he couldn't really explain.

Boruto stared at Yuta sympathetically, “I’m sorry for your loss,”

“It's fine,” Yuta smiled wryly at him. “It's the consequence of being a shinobi, right? Ninjas lost their lives during missions. It's normal.”

They both fell into silence after that, not sure what to say to each other. Boruto was halfway on finishing his food when Yuta finally spoke, “But… thank you, Boruto,”

Perhaps seeing the questioning look on Boruto's face, Yuta hurriedly continued his sentence. “For defeating the shinjus, I mean, if it weren't for you, we would've lost more people. So… thank you, for saving the people of Konoha.”

Boruto was stunned. He… he never thought it like that. It never crossed his mind that what he did actually saved people. Back then his mind was focused only on bringing his family back, all things be damned.

He went quiet after that, trying to absorb what Yuta had been saying. He always focused on his guilt about not being able to save his family in the way his parents would approve of. The things he had to do to save his family were so horrible that the guilt was eating him alive every day.

He couldn't help but feel warmth seeping into his heart. The thought of his action having that much of an impact on other people made him almost cry.

Yuta took the cue to stop the conversation after that. They both finished their meal in silence, respectfully minding each other's business.

After finishing their breakfast, the nurse ushered Yuta and the other children to the recreational room for group activities. Yuta waved him goodbye and promised Boruto that he would look for him once he finished his session.

The nurse who had picked Boruto up from his room earlier for breakfast told him that he would have his first meeting with his therapist. She asked him to follow her to a room opposite the recreational area.

When they arrived, the nurse opened the door, and Boruto was greeted by a spacious, well-lit room. It had at least three different kinds of sofas, and he noticed that the window—which was the source of the light—offered a view of the hospital's garden.

The room was… nice. It was nothing like the clinical, cold space he had imagined based on what he’d heard from others. If anything, it resembled a cozy living room, the kind you’d use to hang out with friends. A woman in her 50s sat behind a desk at the far end of the room. She smiled warmly and waved at him, motioning for him to come in.

“You're Uzumaki Boruto, right?” the woman said as she adjusted her glasses. “I’m Hitomi. I’ll be your therapist during your time here.”

The nurse accompanying him bowed slightly before leaving. Boruto heard a faint “thank you” from Hitomi-san as the door closed behind them.

“You can sit wherever you like,” Hitomi-san said, gesturing toward the seating options: the wide sofas, an exercise ball, the soft carpeted floor, or a single-seat armchair. After a brief moment of consideration, Boruto chose the single-seat armchair.

Boruto looked at Hitomi-san, who was now on his left, between a small book cabinet. He was expecting something, a judgment, perhaps, for choosing the seat. But he was surprised that he did not find any. If anything, Hitomi-san was still smiling softly at him.

“How was your first night here?” Hitomi-san asked.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to finally respond to the question. He had been too busy taking in his surroundings, unsure how to react. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was relaxing. He had expected Hitomi-san to dive straight into his problems, asking probing questions about what was going on with him. Instead, she had asked about last night, catching him off guard.

“It was… fine,” Boruto decided to settle on, not sure how exactly he should explain the anxiety, the trouble sleeping, and the nervousness.

“The nurse told me that she had to offer you a sleeping pill to help you sleep,” Hitomi-san muttered, her tone free of judgment. “I assumed you had trouble settling in?”

“I heard a lot of rumors about these kinds of places.” He took another minute before continuing, carefully crafting his answer. “I didn’t expect it to be not… scary.”

“I get what you mean. Lots of rumors going on about how the psych ward is torturing the patient.” Hitomi-san chuckled. “It did happen a lot in the past. But we’re progressing now, thanks to your father and Sakura-sama. They’ve tried their best to destigmatize the thought around psych wards and people who need it.”

Boruto nodded at her, not sure how to respond to that. Hitomi-san continued when she knew he wouldn’t say anything else. “So… Sakura-sama had told me about your situation. I’ve arranged some of our agenda for the next few weeks, but I might change it based on our progress here. If you have any question, please don’t be afraid to ask, I promise I won’t bite,”

He smiled a bit at the joke that Hitomi-san tried to crack; he could see her taking this as a sign of him opening a little to her. “Not sure if your father had told you this… but he went to me for some therapy sessions before. It was why he asked me to handle your case.”

Boruto widened his eyes, surprised at this information, “when?”

“A little bit after the Great Ninja War,” Hitomi-san replied. “He was struggling with some stuff after the war, maybe you could ask him about it later when he visits,”

The last sentence made him frown. He wasn’t really sure whether his dad would visit or not. He did say he would before leaving him, but you never know with him. Maybe he would get busy and suddenly forget about him or something—not that he cared that much. He truly understands that his dad is the Hokage and an important figure in the village.

Probably noticing his switched mood, Hitomi-san immediately changed the topic, “What do you want to talk about today?”

The question snapped Boruto out of his spiralling thoughts about his dad. It made him think. What exactly was he supposed to say to Hitomi-san? About him keep forgetting about his surroundings? About him no longer feeling like himself? About how everything around his life felt like a void?

But before Boruto could think further, Hitomi-san cut in, “It doesn’t need to be hard things you don’t want to talk about yet,”

Boruto was surprised by this. He thought that a therapist would want to talk about his problem and immediately find a solution to said problem, just as doctors work. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. I’m sure about it,” Hitomi-san smiled at him reassuringly, “I want to know about you, Boruto. Tell me about yourself. Maybe we could start with the things you like first? Or maybe people you love?”

He wasn’t really sure of himself at the moment, and he couldn’t bring himself to like the things he liked before, so he decided, “Can I talk about my sister?”

“Of course, Boruto,” Hitomi-san exclaimed. “Let’s hear about her.”

So Boruto started to talk about his little sister. He told Hitomi-san everything, including her name, favourite food, and hobbies. From there, Hitomi-san just asked questions about his sisters, which he enthusiastically answered. Talking about Himawari somehow shifted his mood, making him feel better.

Sometimes, some questions or memories made him feel weirdly uncomfortable. The questions about whether he used to help Himawari with her training made him feel a pang inside his chest because he did it before he had to flee the village, and the thought of doing it now makes his stomach hurl.

But Hitomi-san never said anything about it. He knew that she noticed the change in his expression, and it was clear with how he would falter when he talked. Hitomi-san would just wait for him to form his words, or if the silence stretched too long, she would know exactly when to direct the topic to another question.

The next thing he knew, he had spent almost two hours talking about his sister, with some questions about his family and friends that Hitomi-san would throw at him, which he answered freely. It was just some questions about who this was to him and what you guys usually do to spend your time.

Hitomi-san told him before ending the session that for this week, they’re going to meet every day at the same hour and decide the next week's schedule from there. She waved her goodbye, and Boruto was picked up by the same nurse from earlier. She then dropped him at the recreational room.

When he entered the room, Yuta saw him and gestured for Boruto to sit on the empty seat beside him. Yuta immediately asked how his first session went. When it was clear that Boruto would only answer with ‘fine’ and would not explain further, Yuta explained the activity they were currently doing.

So that was how his stay in the hospital went. Boruto would follow whatever the nurse had informed him about the activities he would do. In the morning, he would do breakfast, spend the next two hours on therapy (which Hitomi-san decided on four times a week), lunch, dinner, and the rest he spent with activities the ward had to offer.

Sometimes, they were told to do art in whatever form was up to them. Boruto would end up drawing, and even though it wasn’t as good as Himawari’s, it still made him feel relaxed. He ended up showing some of them to Himawari when she visited. She humbly complimented that it should be hung in an art show.

He knew damn well that his drawing was a mess, and Himawari was just saying that to make him feel better.

Boruto would spend the entire time with Yuta, and they were joined at the hip inside the ward. They would do group activities together and go to the dining room with each other on their side. Even one day, they finally got to befriend the kunoichi that would prefer to spend her time in the corner.

Natsumi was her name. She got sent here out of a doctor’s recommendation after what had happened during her last solo mission. At first, she refused. She told her parents that she was fine and that she did not need to be in an in-patient program. But then she had attempted to kill herself, and that was when her parents finally admitted her to the ward.

Yuta and Boruto didn’t ask precisely what had happened during the mission. They respected her decision and told her it was up to her what she wanted to share with them. The duo finally became a trio and would go anywhere inside the ward together.

He was still experiencing some memory problems. One day, during a group activity, he became so disoriented that Yuta had to call one of the nurses to assist him. Despite these setbacks, Boruto found that spending time with Yuta and Natsumi made him feel better. Slowly but surely, it felt like his old self was starting to return.

Boruto also began to open up to Hitomi-san about his feelings. At first, it was hard for him to speak up because he believed his thoughts weren’t important enough to share. However, Hitomi-san reassured him that no matter how small or insignificant his feelings might seem, if he wanted to express them, he should.

His family visited during visit hours. To his surprise, his father managed to squeeze in some time to see him despite his busy schedule. He suspected that his father had sent a clone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it that much. As long as his father visited, it was enough for him.

Himawari would visit whenever she wasn’t busy with her missions. His mom would visit whenever she could, bringing him books she thought he would enjoy. When the visit hours ended, his family would ask if there was anything he wanted them to bring on the next visit so that whoever was going to visit next could bring it to him.

He kept the visitation strictly to his family only. He still wasn’t sure whether or not he was ready to meet his friends. At first, he thought his parents would press him on his reasons. But when he told them this, they both nodded and told him to take all the time he need.

Someone was combing through his long hair. The gentle way they went through his hair felt familiar. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint who the person was currently taking care of his hair.

“Your hair has gotten long,” the person behind him said softly. “Do you mind if I cut it?”

It felt wrong to cut it down, although he couldn’t really explain why. He didn’t remember the reason, let alone who this person was, but deep down, he knew cutting his hair felt wrong. Something about honoring someone. The details were hazy for him, but he was pretty sure he would be uncomfortable if his hair got cut down.

“Can we…” he said, unsure how to explain his reason if this person questioned his answer. “Not do that?”

“Of course, baby,” the person muttered. “Although I probably need to trim the edges a little bit, is it alright?”

He nodded, feeling bad if he had to reject the person’s request twice. He had an inkling that this person wouldn't mind if he said no, though, he sensed such a big warmth radiating through this person.

The person behind him started cutting through the edges of his blonde hair. The rhythmic glide of their fingers through his hair brought a strange comfort, like the echo of memory just out of reach.

Mom.

This person behind him is his mom.

“You… are you my mom?”

The hand that was currently caressing his hair gently stopped. It was clear that the person was taken aback by his question.

“Yes, baby,” he could hear the pain in his mom’s voice, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. “I’m your mom.”

“Ah… Sorry,” He apologized, because what else could you say to your mom after forgetting about her?

“It’s alright,” his mom replied. “You're having a bit of a memory problem, you don't have to apologize about that.”

He knew he should have just shut up and let his mom work on his hair, but he couldn't help but feel anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“What if… what if this stayed forever?” He voiced his thoughts to his mom. “What if my condition is permanent and I couldn't remember anything ever again. What if I could never remember you at all, Mom?”

The quiet scrape of her chair startled him as she moved to sit in front of him. She moved from behind him to sit in front of him. He stared down, afraid of meeting his mother's eyes.

“Baby,” his mother gently held up his face. “Can you look at me, please?”

He looked up, meeting the familiar of his mother's lavender eyes. Her short hair framed her face nicely. His mother looked beautiful, as always.

“I don't care whether or not you remember me, you're still my son,” his mother said gently. “Even if you don't remember, I will do that for you. Your father, Himawari, and Kawaki will do that for you,”

He wanted to look away, the kindness in his mom’s face was too much for him. but his mom’s hand was holding his face firmly in its place.

He finally decided to stare at his mom right into her eyes. “Are you disappointed?”

“With what?”

With what?

The same question is currently running through his mind as well, he wasn't sure what to answer that question with. He decided to settle with himself.

“Me.” He finally answered. “Maybe my problem will stay forever. Maybe I would never be qualified to be a ninja ever again.”

“Boruto,” ah. So his name is Boruto. “back in my time children your age couldn’t choose whether or not they want to be a ninja, especially when you’re in line for the heir of the famous clan in the village,”

“Your dad had been working hard to give the children choices, whether or not they want to be a ninja is now up to them, despite their heritage.” His mom smiled at him. “And that's why the both of us gave you and Himawari a choice of what path you want to choose.”

“So, no, Boruto. I am not disappointed. You will always be my son, whether you're a ninja or not.” His mom said. “You hear me? You're my son. I will always love you, no matter what.”

His mom pulled him into a hug after that. He hesitantly put up both of his arms to hug her back, before spilling his tears into the crook of her neck.

Boruto was leaning on his dad’s chest. They were both sitting under the trees in the hospital’s garden during visiting hours. His dad’s hand wrapped around Boruto, giving him a warm embrace.

It’s been a hard week for him. His memory problem got better, but remembering means he was aware of his surroundings, and it was something that sent him into a breakdown. He was antsy the day before his dad's visit, and it didn’t help that he had a nightmare at night.

His dad seemed to notice, though, and it was nice because he didn’t think he had it in him to explain that he was not in the mood to do anything. His dad held his hand, leading him to the garden and just… pulling him down to sit under the trees.

They didn’t say anything for a whole hour. It was finally Boruto who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Boruto said faintly. He wasn’t even sure if his dad could hear it.

Boruto could feel his dad shifting under him, indicating that he had heard Boruto’s words. “You have nothing to apologize for, believe it."

But his dad didn’t know, did he? All the things he had to do in the pretense of saving his family. His dad surely would not approve of all the things he had done once he heard every detail of his doing. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell his dad those details, even though he probably should.

“Dad,” Boruto could feel his eyes getting wet. “I–”

“Boruto,” Before Boruto could continue, his dad had put both hands on Boruto’s cheeks. His dad caresses his cheeks with his thumbs, and Boruto can feel the warmth of his father’s hand. “Sweetheart, look at me, please,”

Boruto blinked his tears away before finally looking up. He was met with his father’s tender expression. His father’s eyes were staring at Boruto softly.

“You saved me, that’s all that matters, y’know? You saved everyone, no one had to die, and right now, the most important thing for you is to get better. You spent these past years focusing on other people. Now is the time for you to focus on yourself, okay? You don’t need to think about anything else.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he cried. He let all of the tears that had been building up since last night when he woke up after the nightmare out. He cried so hard that his head hurt. But it was all okay because his dad had pulled him into a hug, and he kept rubbing his head gently and whispering that everything would be okay.

At that moment, he couldn’t even care less if the father he’s currently hugging is a clone. The real him was probably busy somewhere else in his office. At least he visited. At least Boruto got to hug him.

“I’m real, baby.” Boruto must have voiced his thoughts out loud because he could hear his father responding to him. He could sense a tint of pain in his voice. “I’m here, Boruto, believe me.”

Boruto let the gentle rub on his head lull him to sleep. His father must have brought him back to his room because he woke up the next day on his bed in his room. He found a note left by his father, apologizing that he couldn’t say goodbye because he didn’t want to disturb his sleep.

Boruto went home after spending almost 8 weeks in-patient in the ward. His condition improved, but that doesn't mean he was off the hook. He still needs to take some medication and attend a twice-a-week therapy session.

When he arrived home with his dad, it turned out his family had arranged a small welcoming party for him. (He later learned that his dad had taken two days off just for him alone. It made him happy in a way that felt both unfamiliar and comforting.)

They didn't invite anyone over, afraid of overwhelming him. It was just him, Himawari, and both of his parents. He wished Kawaki was here, but Hima told him that his brother had sent him a letter.

Himawari had baked a cake and told Boruto to blow out all the candles she had prepared. It was fun, and it made him happy. They celebrated that day like it was someone's birthday and not Boruto's arrival home after spending almost two months in the hospital.

His daily routines returned to those he used to do before he entered the ward. He would wake up before his mom, prepare his father's clothes, cook breakfast, and pack bentos for his father and Himawari.

He wasn't allowed to go grocery shopping in town just yet. He was allowed to go outside around the neighborhood, but the city was off-limits for him.

His sleeping schedule has gotten better, thanks to the medication. He still had nightmares here and there, but it wasn't as frequent as before to the point that he couldn't sleep due to anxiety.

His memory problem is still intact. he still struggled with occasional memory lapses, although the interval was less frequent. Hitomi-san said that this was normal and that he should just take things slow.

Whenever Himawari was around, he would notice that Boruto started to get disoriented with everything around him. His little sister would ask, “Boruto Nii-chan, are you forgetting again?”

Himawari would start answering every single question that boruto asked. She would patiently answer every question, no matter how stupid it was.

Boruto felt ashamed most of the time because of this. He felt weak and useless as an older brother, and he should've been the one to protect her instead of the other.

He once voiced this thought to Himawari. Her face was strange at first, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled at him.

“Nii-chan,” Himawari said gently. “You spent the past year trying to protect me, let me do this one for you, okay?”

He’s really grateful for Himawari. He couldn't ask for a better sister.

Boruto remembered back then when people still went after his head for ‘killing’ the Hokage, Himawari was the sole reason for him to keep going. Himawari was his driving force. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for her, and he probably would've given up a long time ago if it weren't for the safety of his little sister.

When he relapsed, he would be frustrated with himself for not being able to remember certain words or names. Sometimes, it felt too much to the point that maybe, just maybe, everything would be better if he just ended his life right here and there.

But then Himawari would come around, asking him whether or not he was okay. And despite not remembering who exactly the girl in front of him was, he would still remember that she would be sad if he were gone. So he clung to that feeling whenever the despair hit, that Himawari would be sad if he were dead, and Boruto would be damned if he made his little sister sad.

One week after Boruto was discharged from the ward, Sarada and Mitsuki visited. His mom was reluctant to let them meet at first, knowing that they had a fight that Boruto barely remembered. He assured her that it was fine. They were just going to talk upstairs in his room.

Boruto sat at the frame of his window, hugging his knees to his chest, looking outside. Sarada sat at the edge of his bed with Mitsuki sitting in front of her on Boruto’s chair. They were silent, afraid of meeting each other’s eyes. When the tension felt a little bit too much for Boruto, he sighed before turning around.

“I’m sorry,” the three of them said at the same time.

They were stunned, realizing they had spoken the same words together without being prompted. Sarada’s expression hardened. She stood, looking at Boruto, telling him that he should not be sorry. The fault lay on her for not realizing something was happening with his best friend. Mitsuki responded that he should be the one who apologized to both of them, letting the omnipotence affect his memory and not remembering Boruto.

They stared intently at each other, and none refused to back down. Each wanted to apologize and felt the others did not need to. The heavy silence lasted for another minute before they laughed together, finding the situation ridiculous.

They took turns to talk after the laughing had preceded. Boruto apologized for lashing out at Sarada and Mitsuki for not letting him join the mission. Sarada held his hand, telling him that it wasn’t his fault, that they should’ve tried more to get the help Boruto needed instead of kicking him out of missions like that.

Mitsuki held Boruto’s other hand, apologizing for not remembering him and almost killing him in the process. Boruto smiled at them both. He told them that it was fine; he couldn’t lie that it hurt back then when they did that to him, but it wasn’t something they could exactly control–Mitsuki, especially.

Sarada gently tugged his hand, pulling him down from his window frame before hugging him, with Mitsuki following her. The three of them huddle together at the edge of Boruto's bed. Their position was making the hug awkward, but they couldn’t care less. So they spent another minute like that–huddled together, crying into each other’s arms.

The next day, Konohamaru Nii-chan stopped by, holding a takeaway bag from Thunder Burger. He smiled nervously at Boruto, telling him that the shop had a new spicy variant and they should try it together. It was only both of them in that house. His dad was working, his mom was out meeting her friends, and Himawari was away on her mission. Boruto suspected that his mom sent Konohamaru to spy on him so he wouldn’t be alone in the house.

They both sat in the living room. Konohamaru handed him the burger from the bag before finally unwrapping it and eating his own. Boruto eyed the burger in his hand and hesitantly unwrapped it. If Konohamaru had seen it, he didn't say anything about it, too absorbed with his portion of food.

Boruto noticed that his hand started shaking uncontrollably. He was afraid. He remembered how he immediately threw it up the last time he took a bite. He was afraid that this time, it would be the same. He was afraid that he wanted to vomit again when the taste of the burger hit his mouth. He was afraid that maybe all the weeks he spent at the ward meant nothing, and maybe he was still sick, and maybe the burger he liked will still stay like shit.

“Something’s wrong?” Konohamaru’s voice snapped Boruto out of his meltdown. He looked up from his burger and found Konohamaru staring at him for a while with concern written all over his face. “You don’t like–”

“It’s nothing.” Boruto shook his head, cutting Konohamaru’s sentence. He looked down at his burger once again before finally taking a bite.

He was expecting the taste to overwhelm his mouth, and he was ready to throw it all out. But the second his mouth felt the taste of the burger, all he tasted was the spice of the chili mixing with the savory chicken. It was the spiciest thing he ever ate, but he couldn’t even pay attention to that.

All he could feel was the sense of joy that the burger he loved had tasted just like the way he liked it. He was happy at the thought that he could finally eat his favorite food again without being disgusted by it, to the point that he didn’t even realize his eyes had gone wet from the tears that came out of his eyes.

Boruto felt Konohamaru's warm embrace pull him into a hug. He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to come out, but all Konohamaru said was ‘it’s okay’ and ‘let it all out.’

So he did. He let it out. It felt embarrassing because it seemed like all he had done these past weeks was cry, cry, cry. But no matter what he tried to do to hold the tears back, it kept coming anyway.

When he calmed down, Konohamaru whispered something about apologizing for not recognizing Boruto back when he was under omnipotence’s effect to the point that he had let him get beaten up by the T&I.

Boruto wanted to say that it was okay. It was something out of everyone’s control. But Hitomi-san had told him that even though there was nothing people around him could do, that didn’t mean he should accept it the way it was, that it was okay to admit that the actions of people around him hurt him.

So he told Konohamaru exactly that. With his burger still awkwardly clutched in his hand, he told Konohamaru–someone who he sees as his older brother–that his action hurt him. Still, he had also forgiven him, considering the situation.

Another week passed, and Shikadai and Inojin came over, bringing him a gift wrapped in soft pink paper. They urged him to open it, and when he did, he was met with a game console. It was the same color as the one he had owned before he broke it—a detail that tugged at his chest. When he looked up, Shikadai shrugged, telling him that Hinata had mentioned Boruto’s console was broken.

For a moment, he just stared at the gift, his throat tightening. Then, he almost forgot about carefully setting the console down before pulling both Shikadai and Inojin into a hug. He could feel their hands hesitantly wrapping around him—perhaps unsure of what to do. They stayed like that for a while, and if Shikadai or Inojin felt their clothes getting damp, they didn’t say anything.

It was another week before his mom allowed him to go into town. His parents had been allowing him to go out and walk around their house but strictly prohibited him from going outside their neighborhood. He complied with that rule, which, come to think of it, is something the old Boruto wouldn’t do.

He did that a lot. Reminiscing who he was before the omnipotence happened, before everything turned into shit. Part of it perhaps could be blamed on his PTSD, but Boruto could also feel that something in him has shifted. He used to be able to talk with his friends for hours, but now his social battery would run out faster than it usually is.

Perhaps he was maturing, or perhaps it was just another one of his symptoms. Either way, Boruto would wrap all of this up and keep it for later. He doesn’t like dwelling too much on things because it tends to send him into a spiral, and it is hard to get out of one.

His mom asked him to help with the groceries. She gave him a list of things he should buy and warned him to come home as soon as possible. He nodded, feeling a little bit warm seeping into his chest. If his mom had finally allowed him to go into town, he was finally getting better, and his mom could see that.

Boruto found his friends crowding at the card shop they used to visit together after strolling around town to finish his mom’s grocery list. Before he could think of turning around, Denki had spotted him and waved his hand at him.

He was about to turn around and leave them alone, but he felt rude now that Denki had seen him. Without thinking, he started walking towards the card shop, feeling dread pooling on his stomach. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good idea, but he didn’t want to ignore his friends either.

“Boruto-kun! Hi!” Denki said although it felt a little bit too cheery. Boruto could feel that it was a little bit forced, but he knew that Denki only acted like this when he was nervous. “How are you?”

“Denki!” Metal shouted–although he immediately shut his mouth again when he realized that his shout had attracted the attention of people around them. “I… I don’t think you could ask him that.”

Boruto couldn’t help but smile at that. It was silly, but he appreciated the consideration of his friends. It made his chest warm.

“Metal, it’s fine.” Boruto let out a giggle. It made him realize it's been a while since he felt this giddy. It's been a while since he actually laughed. “Of course you can ask me that, I’m fine.”

Iwabee slapped Metal’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so dramatic, Metal,” Boruto could see Metal’s anxiety disappearing from his face before Iwabee finally continued. “Boruto, we’re sorry that we haven't visited you yet, our team has been busy with missions and we haven't had the time to spare.”

“It's fine, guys,” Boruto smiled at them. “I hope everything is doing fine with your missions.”

“It is!” Denki muttered excitedly. “Ever since we became Chunin, we have harder missions and we get to go outside the village more.”

Boruto couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at that. Sure, he understood why he couldn't take missions with his current condition. But oftentimes, he felt such a strong longing to go into missions that he couldn't shake it no matter what.

“I’m happy for you guys. Good luck with your next missions!” Boruto, of course, didn't let all of his jealousy show. “It was nice meeting you guys here. I have to go now, though. My mom warned me not to stay long in town. See ya!”

Boruto waved goodbye at them. But before he turned around, Denki yelled, “Boruto-kun! Wait!”

“Take this as our welcome home gift.” Denki shoved five packs of cards into his hand. “We will get you something better once we have time to visit you, so don't worry about it.”

Boruto tried to shake his head and swat Denki’s hand off, but Denki kept shoving the cards at him, and Boruto had no choice but to take all of them.

“Thank you, guys,” Boruto said, putting the cards on his jacket. "Let me know when you guys are going to visit. See you!” They waved at each other before Boruto turned around and went home.

At night, Boruto opened all the card packs Denki and his friends had given him. The thrill of finding an SSR card felt meaningless now—a ghost of simpler times before everything had gone to hell. He couldn’t stop mourning the innocence he had lost, back when things like rare cards could still excite him.

Yet, the thought of his friends warmed his heart. They had been thoughtful enough to gift him these packs despite the money they must have spent. He knew they had likely saved up their earnings from missions to buy them, yet they gave them to him anyway. It felt nice. It felt like he was truly cared for. Boruto clung to that kindness, holding on as if it were a lifeline in the chaos of his life.

It’s been a year since Kawaki went on his probation mission. Boruto and his family were preparing to throw a welcome-home party for him. They decided to make the party family-only and will do another one where they invite friends around next week, depending on Kawaki’s decision.

Boruto couldn’t shake off his nervousness at finally seeing his brother in person. He knew that Kawaki knew what had happened. Hinata and Himawari had informed him through the letter after asking for Boruto’s permission. But that wasn’t exactly his worry.

He told Hitomi-san about his complicated feelings towards his brother. He told her that he understood where Kawaki was coming from, but he couldn’t stop feeling betrayed by his brother’s actions. He lost his right eye because of him, and he had to flee the village while everyone was out for his head for years because of him. He lost too much because of him.

Above all, Boruto felt guilty for not being able to forget about all of that. He felt ashamed for being unable to move on despite his talk with his brother before leaving for his missions. They talked. They made up. Everything should be fine, and he shouldn’t feel the way he is right now.

But then Hitomi-san asked, “Did you try to listen to what your brother was about to say, or did you immediately go to shutting his words?”

And it made Boruto realize that perhaps, instead of actually talking about what they were both feeling, he just brushed it off like nothing happened. Kawaki did try to explain his side of things. Still, he wasn’t ready to hear what his brother was about to say, so he settled on ‘I forgive you’ so Kawaki could shut up.

With this acknowledgment in mind, Boruto decided to write to his brother, as Hitomi-san had also suggested. Boruto was afraid of disturbing his brother during his mission, but he didn’t think he could hold back his anger any longer, or else he would combust. So he wrote the letter, and he sent it to his brother.

Boruto waited for his brother’s response, but all he got was:

I can’t have this conversation properly over a letter. We’ll talk when I get back.

Which, yeah, understandable. It was a heavy and long topic, and there was no way both of them could get the point across a piece of paper. So he decided to put the topic at the back of his mind.

Sometimes, the thought about their future conversation would resurface, and Boruto would spend the whole time thinking about every possible way their conversation would end badly.

One time, the thought sent him spiraling so badly that it alerted his mom. Boruto had to convince her that he was fine and that it wasn't something to be fussed over. She did manage to force him to tell her what it was about, though.

His mom reassured him that she would be right next to him, whatever the future brings. From that on, whenever the anxiety resurfaced, Boruto would search for his mom and just… fall into her warm embrace, listening to her repeating reassurance that everything would be fine.

Kawaki arrived with Himawari, who was tasked with greeting him at the gate, considering she was also finishing her mission at the same time as Kawaki’s arrival.

They hugged, and a chant of ‘welcome home’ went around them. This time, Boruto was the one who baked the cake for the party, since Himawari was busy with her mission. His cake wasn't as good as Hima’s, but it was still pretty enough to be stared at.

Boruto could feel Kawaki’s eyes on him, and he could sense the weight of unspoken words between them. But Boruto decided to brush it off. This was his brother's welcome home party; they could talk later.

When the party ended, Boruto decided to do the dishes. His mom protested that it should be her turn, considering he had baked the cake earlier, but Boruto insisted that it should be him since he had made a mess of the kitchen.

But he knew, deep down, that he was stalling.

When he finished the dishes, the dining room was empty. His father had returned to the Hokage office, apologizing for leaving early. His sister was probably upstairs, sleeping off already, considering she had just returned from a mission. His mom was probably helping Kawaki settle down in his room.

Boruto decided to go outside to the roof. He laid down, using both of his hands as pillows and crossing his legs. He stared at the sky; it was full of stars tonight.

He could feel the sound of someone approaching. Kawaki, if he had to guess.

“Hi,” his brother muttered. Boruto could sense a tint of hesitation in his words.

“Hi,” Boruto replied, not looking away from the stars he was staring at.

“Are you okay?” His brother asked as he took a seat on his left.

“I’m still getting there.” If it were a year ago, Boruto would’ve lied and told him the lie he had prepared for this occasion, that he was fine. But Hitomi-san had taught him that being honest about his feelings was one of the steps to getting better. So he complied. “It wasn’t as worse as before.”

And Boruto didn’t lie about that. His memory problem never came back after months of therapy and medication unless he was under a stressful situation, which he rarely did, considering the missions he took were mostly C-rank that a Chunin could easily finish.

There was one time when he had to take an A-rank mission because of the lack of manpower. It wasn’t that bad, but he did have a relapse. But in the end, it was fine, and his friends were around to help him.

He could also feel his old self coming back to him. It was small things, actually, like how he got giddy at the thought of playing a newly released game after buying it from the store or how fun it was to eat at Thunder Burger with Shikadai and go train surfing afterward.

“I’m glad,” Kawaki said from his left.

They both fell into silence, not sure where to start or who should say their piece first.

“I’m sorry,” it was Kawaki who finally opened his mouth first. “I learned a lot these past months, and I understand now that although my intention was good, it doesn't excuse all of my actions. I’m sorry for hurting you, Boruto.”

Boruto could feel the words ‘it’s fine’ at the tip of his mouth, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to say that, so he said, “Thank you for apologizing,”

He turned his head to see his brother, who was staring at the stars above them. Boruto knew exactly what he was doing, trying to avoid their gaze to meet, trying to avoid him.

“Kawaki,” Boruto said. “I forgive you.”

He used his arms to prop him into a sitting position before continuing. “I can’t lie about how much it hurts. I was hurt by your action, no matter how much I tried to understand your perspective. But I know you get why what you did was wrong, I appreciate your apology.”

Boruto smiled at his brother, waiting for him to turn his head around and finally look at him.

“And I would greatly appreciate if you don't try to avoid me now, considering I’m currently sitting in front of you,”

It got his brother to turn his head around, and for the first time since last year, both of them took time to stare at each other.

Boruto didn't realize who moved first, but the next thing he knew, they were both wrapped around each other in a hug. The tightness of Kawaki's hold felt a little bit suffocating, but he couldn't really blame his brother, considering Boruto was also doing the same to him.

He wanted to tell his brother how much he loved him, but he couldn't find the exact words to say it, so he kept it to himself this time. Maybe one day they will arrive at the day when declaring love to each other feels as easy as breathing, but today isn't the day, and that's okay.

So they stayed in each other's arms for a long time before their mother finally called them both to come inside before they caught a cold.

They grinned at each other and returned to their house, where their mother was waiting with a bunch of blankets and a glass of hot tea.