The Seventh Hokage watched Naruto's expression carefully, searching for any sign of mockery or judgment. When he saw nothing but a slight smile—not quite amused, not quite sympathetic—he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
At least he's not going to tell them I got beaten unconscious for an hour, the Seventh Hokage thought with relief.
If his children learned the truth, whatever remained of their respect for him would crumble completely.
Young Naruto had no intention of exposing the older man's embarrassment. Let him keep what little dignity he had left in his children's eyes. Instead, Naruto continued sharing stories about his own world, carefully editing out the bloodier details.
He didn't mention killing Hiruzen Sarutobi. Children didn't need to hear about executions and political purges, no matter how justified. The ninja world had never been peaceful, and shinobi were products of darkness by nature, but looking at Himawari's innocent face, Naruto felt she should be allowed to stay a child a little longer.
The sky darkened outside as evening settled over Konoha. The bright, clear moon hung overhead, unobscured by clouds. Street lamps flickered to life along the roads, their warm glow keeping the village from falling into complete darkness.
Inside the house, laughter filled the rooms.
Mostly Naruto and Himawari, their voices bright and joyful. Naruto would say something silly, and Himawari would dissolve into giggles that made her whole face light up. The sound was infectious, warming the entire space.
Boruto wanted to laugh like his sister. The urge tugged at him every time Himawari shrieked with delight. But his pride wouldn't allow it.
He glanced across the room at his middle-aged father, who sat like a silent gourd watching the scene unfold. Boruto snorted internally but kept his face carefully neutral, continuing to observe as Naruto entertained his sister.
If only my real dad was like this, Boruto thought, the wish aching in his chest. But he's not. He never will be.
This father who'd fallen from the sky couldn't stay forever. Eventually, probably soon, the young dad would sprout wings, fly into the sky, and disappear just as mysteriously as he'd arrived.
Happiness couldn't last forever.
After the young father left, their family would return to normal. Back to the boring dad obsessed with work, who only ever came home to sleep and sometimes not even that.
Time crawled forward. The night deepened.
Himawari's small face began showing signs of fatigue. Her eyelids drooped, opening and closing in the slow rhythm of approaching sleep.
Naruto noticed immediately. He scooped Himawari into his arms and looked at Hinata. "Where's Himawari's room? I'll take her to bed."
Hinata stood quickly, leading Naruto down the hallway. She opened a door and flicked on the light, revealing a small bedroom overflowing with girlish charm. Pink walls, stuffed animals on shelves, drawings taped up everywhere.
Naruto glanced down at Himawari in his arms. Her eyes were closed now, her breathing steady and even. Already mostly asleep.
He crossed to the bed and pulled back the thin quilt. Carefully, as if handling something precious and fragile, he laid Himawari down and tucked the covers around her small form. He looked at her peaceful, smiling face for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned to leave.
A small hand caught his wrist.
Naruto looked back. Himawari's eyes had opened, bright and earnest in the dim light. Her grip on his hand was surprisingly strong for such a little girl.
"Young Dad," she whispered, "Himawari was so happy today!"
Naruto's expression softened. He reached down and patted her head gently, his voice dropping to match her whisper. "Sleep well, Himawari. Dad will play with you again tomorrow."
The promise lit up Himawari's face. She closed her eyes contentedly, a smile lingering on her lips as she snuggled deeper under the quilt.
Naruto stood there for a moment longer, his hand still resting on her head.
This child is starving for her father's attention, he thought, something tightening in his chest.
He turned off the light and closed the door quietly behind him.
In the living room, the Seventh Hokage and Hinata were clearing dishes. Naruto kept his voice low. "Himawari's asleep. We should all keep it down."
"We?" The Seventh Hokage blinked at him in confusion, then looked at Hinata.
"Naruto," Hinata said quickly, shooting her husband a sharp glare, "you can sleep in Boruto's room tonight."
Boruto's head snapped around, his face immediately turning sour.
The evening routine proceeded. Hinata cleaned up the remaining dishes while both Narutos took turns bathing. The Seventh Hokage's spare clothes were slightly too small on young Naruto—the jacket tight across the shoulders, the pants ending above his ankles—but they'd have to do.
Eventually, Naruto and Boruto retreated to Boruto's room.
The Seventh Hokage followed Hinata to their bedroom.
As soon as the bedroom door closed, Hinata turned to her husband. "What happened to your face?"
She'd kept quiet earlier with Naruto and the children present, preserving her husband's dignity. But alone, she needed answers.
"Ahem." The Seventh Hokage coughed awkwardly. "Naruto hit me."
With Hinata, there was no point in lying. They'd been together for over a decade. She knew him too well.
"He hit you?" Hinata's eyes widened. "But aren't you the same person? How does that work?"
"Yeah, well." The Seventh Hokage nodded slowly. "But I have to thank him for it."
"Thank him?" Hinata looked completely lost.
"For waking me up." The Seventh Hokage pulled Hinata into his arms, his swollen face pressing against her hair. "For making me realize I was wrong. All these years, I've been focused on work, ignoring you, Boruto, and Himawari. But Hinata... from now on, I'll make time. Real time. For you and the children."
Tears filled Hinata's eyes. Finally. Finally, her husband understood.
She hugged him tightly, her shoulders shaking with emotion.
After a moment, she pulled back slightly. "Um, Naruto... the other Naruto is still in Boruto's room."
"It's fine," the Seventh Hokage murmured, pulling her closer. "Makes it more exciting."
The lights went out.
In Boruto's room, Boruto lay with his back to the door, staring at the wall.
Having a father suddenly appear and share his bed was deeply weird. He wasn't used to this. Couldn't sleep. Didn't know what to say or how to act.
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
Finally, Naruto broke it. "Boruto, tell me something. Why didn't you go to class today?"
"I did go!" Boruto said immediately, defensively.
"No, you didn't. I met Anko-sensei at the Academy. She said you skipped."
The use of "Anko-sensei" instead of "Mitarai Anko" was deliberate. Naruto's tone remained gentle rather than harsh.
Caught in the lie, Boruto fell silent.
Naruto could sense the boy's emotions shifting, turning inward and dark. He reached out and placed one hand on Boruto's head, ruffling his hair gently.
"You don't actually want to skip class, do you?" Naruto said quietly. "You just want your dad's attention."
Boruto went rigid. "How did you—"
"Boruto." Naruto's voice was impossibly kind. "Tell Dad what you're really thinking."
The warmth of Naruto's palm on his head, the genuine care in his voice, broke through every defense Boruto had built over years of loneliness. His nose burned. His eyes stung.
Everything came pouring out.
"I skip class and pull pranks because I want Dad to notice me," Boruto said, his voice cracking. "I want him to stop working long enough to look at me. To spend even a little time with me instead of buried in the Hokage's office..."
"But he doesn't. It's always work. Every single day. Just work. Never me. Never my sister. Never Mom..."
"I'm so jealous of other kids." The words tumbled out faster now, years of resentment spilling free. "Their dads have jobs too, but they still play with their kids. They treat them like friends. They actually care..."
Heat prickled behind Boruto's eyes. He was saying things he'd never dared speak aloud, things buried so deep he'd half-convinced himself they weren't real.
Naruto listened in silence, his hand still resting gently on Boruto's head.
Just as I thought, Naruto reflected. This boy is starving for his father's love.
"Boruto," he said softly, "do you want to be good friends with Dad?"
"Yes!" The answer came immediately, desperately. "Of course I want that! I want Dad to play with me, to be my friend like other kids' dads—"
Boruto cut himself off, his face falling. "But Dad won't do that. He only cares about work. He'll never..."
In the darkness, Naruto smiled.
His gentle voice filled the quiet room like a promise.
"It's okay, Boruto. That father might not be able to, but I want to be friends with you."
Boruto's breath caught. "Really? You mean it?"
"Really." Naruto's smile widened in the dark. "Now then, Boruto..."
His tone shifted subtly, taking on a quality that would have made Sasuke, Hinata, and every other friend back home immediately nervous.
"Are you ready?"