#4. Breaking In

Boruto flattened himself against the cool earth, keeping his back straight and his movements slow. He drew in even, steady breaths to try and calm the erratic pulsing of his heart, but ultimately knew that it was pointless. His body was already lost on a wave of adrenaline, that familiar bundle of excitement and anxiety that overtook him whenever he faced with a mission as risky this one.

In hindsight, Boruto couldn't help but wish he had paid more attention to Shino-sensei's stealth classes as he slinked forward, relying heavily on the cover of darkness to keep himself hidden. It was of the utmost important that he did not give away his position. If he was caught, well… he didn't like to think of what the consequences may be.

His target was within sight, the building he was looking to infiltrate just a short distance away. The lights were out, a sign that there may not be anyone inside. Boruto could feel his nerves calming slightly, knowing that the end was within reach. So long as he made it inside without being noticed, everything would be okay.

All he needed was to find a point of entry, one that he could breach undetected. Scanning the side of the building discreetly, his eyes lit up as he noticed a window hanging open on the first floor. Slowly, Boruto crawled along the ground towards the side of the building, eventually pressing himself up against the wall, moving alongside it.

He stopped just under the base of the window, carefully ducking his head beneath the frame. Boruto's expression furrowed as he strained his ears trying to make out any noise from the other side; anyone who might notice him making his entrance.

It seemed quiet and perfectly still.

Boruto drew in a slow, calming breath before he grasped the windowsill, pulling himself through with the strength of his upper body. With refined grace he dropped inside, landing lightly on his feet in a crouched position. His eyes lifted and scanned the room quickly, discretely, making certain that it was empty.

He sighed deeply in relief.

"Yes! Made it, 'ttebassa." Boruto cheered softly to himself. He glanced tentatively over his shoulder, scanning the area one last time. "I don't think anyone saw me."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

The voice carried through the silent room, startling Boruto. He grasped reflexively at a kunai in his weapons pouch, casting it into the shadows. It wasn't the smartest tactic, but he had been taken by surprise and responded impulsively. As a ninja, he had learnt to constantly be on guard and prepared for anything.

A single spark cut through the darkness, moments later, along with the distinct clanging of metal clashing together sharply. Boruto could feel his heart sink as light suddenly flooded into the room. Despite his best efforts, he had been caught. He grimaced, holding up a hand to shield his eyes, needing a moment to adjust to the glare.

Boruto's room was just as he'd remembered leaving it. His mission clothes were strewn haphazardly over his desk chair from earlier in the day, pillows and blankets had been piled underneath his bedcovers in what he'd hoped looked like the shape of a deeply slumbering teenager; that way, should anyone come in, they wouldn't notice right away that he was gone.

There was, however, one distinct difference. His mother now stood at the edge of his bed, her arm raised and a kunai in hand; the one she had used to deflect his own. Boruto felt his stomach churn uncomfortably, his once firm stance becoming rigid and anxious.

"Hello Boruto," Hinata greeted, her face an impassive mask.

"K-kaa-chan." Boruto said, cursing himself as he stumbled.

"You're late, young man." She stated simply, her arms folding as she set the weapon down on his desk. "Your father and I were expecting you. He won't be happy to hear that you've been breaking your curfew again."

Boruto's hand kneaded at the back of his neck, as he did his best to avoid the piercing gaze of his mother's Byakugan eyes. In any other scenario, Hinata might have laughed. The gesture, his sheepish posture, it was all eerily reminiscent of how Naruto would react whenever she was similarly upset with him.

At seventeen years old, Boruto stood close to six feet tall, almost an entire head taller than Hinata. He'd grown significantly over the past few years, much like his father had during his adolescent years. Lean muscle lined his frame from his countless hours spent training and on missions. His success and ability as a ninja had earned high praise amongst the village and there had already been talk of grooming him for Jounin applications. Given his lineage and the many accolades already attached to his name, Boruto had already grown to be something of an imposing figure.

However, beneath his mother's stern gaze, he could feel himself shrinking, becoming as small and defenceless as the day he had been born. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but there was just something about her eyes that was so incredibly disarming to him. Perhaps it was an apprehension he'd been conditioned to after the day he'd accidentally torn Hima's favourite stuffed panda when they were kids, causing her to unlock her Byakugan and attack him in a rare display of anger. He shuddered. The memory certainly didn't help.

Boruto knew that whatever he said, and regardless of how much conviction he put in his voice, Hinata would be able to read through it all. It was one of the disadvantage that came with being born into the Hyuuga family and having a mother who possessed the Byakugan bloodline. She could pick up on even the slightest shift in his expression, his heartrate, and immediately knew if he was telling the truth or not.

"I'm sorry," he answered after a moment, realising that it was pointless to lie.

Noticing the remorse that flashed across her son's face, Hinata's cold stare faltered, as she glanced down with a sigh. She had never been fond of punishing her children, especially when she recalled how strict her father had been with her as a child. However, she knew that it was a necessity and came with the responsibility of being a parent.

Still, she tried her best to show her children patience and respect, even when lecturing them. Hinata knew that scolding Boruto or raising her voice wouldn't get through to him. He would usually just scoff and brush it off. Closing the distance between them, Hinata reached up to touch Boruto's shoulder lightly, her voice piercing through the silent room.

"I'm not mad at you, Boruto, just disappointed."

Boruto's expression tightened as an all too familiar stab of guilt radiated its way through his chest. All the while, Hinata left the room slowly, the door creaking shut behind her.

Seeing the woman who normally radiated such love and warmth look at him with sadness and knowing that he was responsible, always left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was unbearable. He would much sooner choose to get whacked over the head by his father as punishment.

Boruto hadn't really meant to upset Hinata. It just made no sense to him that he had a curfew, at his age. He was a trained ninja, only a few years away from legally being an adult. He was regularly faced with missions where the threat of death lingered. Why couldn't his parents trust that he was mature and independent enough to stay out and arrive home safely? He wasn't a child anymore.

With a sigh, Boruto fell back against his bed, sifting a hand through his dishevelled hair. He glanced up at the ceiling pensively, watching as the light filtering through the still open window spilt across it.

When he was younger, his father had been adamant that he and Himawari not stay up too late, among other things. He wanted to make sure that they always got the rest they needed, or were bathing well, or eating properly. His fixation on such specific, mundane things had always struck Boruto as unusual. That is, until, Hinata told Boruto about the day Naruto had been born; a day in which, with her last breath, Kushina-obaa-chan wished the same things for him in the hopes that, even in her absence, he may still live a happy, healthy life. It was that small insight that really helped Boruto begin to understand why being well rested was of such importance to Naruto. It was one few things that made him feel connected to his late mother, and by instilling the same behaviour into his own children, it allowed all that she had wished for to carry on.

In that sense, Boruto supposed he could understand where his parents were coming from. They were just looking out for him. They only wanted to give him the love and care they hadn't always been able to receive when they were children. It may have seemed like a small, innocuous detail, but it was something that he may have a tendency to take for granted. He had been fortunate enough to not have to endure the pain of losing someone so integral to his life.

Boruto turned onto his side, burrowing his head more comfortably against the pillow as a yawn slipped from the back of his throat. Despite still being fully clothed, his body lightly coated with sweat, it was becoming difficult to resist the enticing comfort of his bed. Tomorrow, he could find a way to apologise and make it up to Hinata properly. But for now, he should probably get some rest.

Now that he thought about it, he was actually feeling pretty tired.

A/N: There were a few different ideas that led to me writing this. I've always wondered if there were teenage ninjas in the Narutoverse who used their skills in stealth to stay out late and sneak back home without getting caught. I also definitely see Hinata as the kind of mother who would use the classic "I'm not mad, just disappointed line" rather than raising her voice. It works a charm on Boruto, and he feels guilty.

Anyway, just want to say thanks for all the interest you all have shown this series so far, especially the last story. A few of you actually asked if I could write a follow-up to "An Important Mission", or just a story that explores Naruto taking care of Boruto and Himawari on his own further. That's definitely an idea that interests me.