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Fingers kneading at his throbbing forehead, Boruto finally opens his eyes to steal a furtive glance at the familiar face across from him.
Sarada is sitting across the somewhat sticky table in a small hole-in-the-wall yakiniku diner. Well, sort of. In HIS body.
After contracting with Himawari to keep this predicament a secret for the price of letting his younger sister play dress up on him-in-Sarada's-body, Boruto and Sarada had escaped the Uzumaki house before Himawari could spritz any more perfume on him and were now sitting here, traumatized but inconspicuous (well, as inconspicuous as the progeny of the first and second most powerful men in Konoha could be, though the exact order of whose dad is stronger has been long disputed).
Sarada's eyes are narrowed blue slits, almost causing him physical pain, despite her not having her father's black fire and certainly not being able to develop such a power in Boruto's form.
It's a weird, Uchiha-ish expression on him.
Boruto has to admit that this is quite unlike the usual mulish pout he sees himself make in the mirror at the end of a bad day, another sign this whole pretend-to-be-each-other show is gonna be like hell to keep up.
But try they must. And are.
"For. The. Last. Time. We can't do guard duty at the ceremony today, stupid. You don't know my ANBU security clearance password."
Yep. Kami, are they trying.
"So just TELL it to me! Stop being such a pain in the ass!"
"Look, I can't tell you. It's against the shinobi honor code." Boruto watches, slightly amused, as Sarada flushes red, a mix of her already pulsating anger and something else that Boruto thinks is emb—nah, can't be.
You can't judge a man until you walk in his shoes ten thousand miles. Well, Boruto probably has walked alongside Sarada that many miles, since they were babies.
Sarada is one of those people that messes up (though only once in a blue moon, Boruto thinks grudgingly) and spends the rest of the day trying to talk you over about how it was ACTUALLY your fault. She's been an unfeminine and bossy know-it-all since childhood, and would likely be unrepentant 'til death.
"We've been teammates for ages, 'ttebasa!" he wheedles in a final ditch effort, headache growing worse.
He's hoping to kami he sounds cooler than this in real life, when he has his own body and not this girly, petite, pathetically slender and altogether not-bad-maybe-rather-attractive bod—aaaand no.
Brain, no.
Boruto's fingers reattach themselves to his temples.
He is going crazy and it's because of the female hormones circulating along with weird Uchiha chakra. Going batshit insane, because his skin is suddenly soft and supple and—he suspects—smells really nice even without his sister's perfume. Worst of all, it's the skin of his childhood frenemy.
"'Ttebasa?" Sarada repeats dully, and Boruto is able to snap himself back to reality.
Her scoffing tone, even in his voice, sounds nothing like the verbal tic Boruto does. "I don't say stuff like that, because unlike certain people, I speak like an adult."
"Well, Ms. Adult, tell me your stinkin' password and we both won't need to listen to each other for a while!" He swallows the 'ttebasa before it escapes fully, hoping Sarada didn't catch it this time.
She looks preoccupied again, though, eyes downcast, as if she's contemplating something.
"…Can't."
Boruto lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Look, you don't have to follow the rules for everything! Be cool, okay? If you're going to be in my body, at least try to ease the priss-factor by 50%."
Sarada struggles for words for a second. "Well—tell me yours, then."
Boruto huffs.
"Ramen."
His companion's face contorts, which twists Boruto's expression into glowering, somewhat hilarious mess. If there's one thing Boruto actually outgrew since childhood, it's emotional constipation. Unfortunately, the Uchiha's seemed to invariably develop it, like a genetic lactose-intolerance or something.
At least Sarada's not one to pull punches on him, though. Not anymore, since the whole genin team thing happened and they had to do things like sleep in the same cramped tent as Mitsuki after he tried to show them what he called his belly button.
"Ulgh… That is just like you! People could have guessed that, stupid! We're supposed to have passwords that no one in the entire world can guess, even our parents. You are unbelievable!"
In theory, Sarada is correct.
The ANBU developed the new measure of security clearance passwords four years ago, after kekkai genkai was discovered that allowed perfect duplication of another's body that could not be detected by Konoha's Sharingan or Byakugan.
Now that guerrilla warfare and terror attacks are more and more prevalent, Konoha's services inserted new measures when assigning guard duty near the Hokage for events where the Nanadaime actually does show up in the flesh.
As ANBU active-duty members, both Boruto and Sarada have shifts of guard duty for the 10th Anniversary of the Nanadaime's term, before the ceremony transitioned into laudatory speeches from diplomats and other kages.
For that part, immediate family members are expected to sit behind the Hokage in an embarrassing VIP box and look happy while close friends like the Uchiha are expected to turn up but look radiantly happy from the crowd. Boruto's status as the Uzumaki Naruto's son does not exempt him from guard duty first, then sitting lame-duck smiling for the cameras second.
"FINE, nerd. Can we use kage bunshin then? Make one and have her give your password when you report for duty. Sure, eye jutsu can sometimes tell a clone from the real thing, but the byakugan also traces your chakra back to you."
Sarada looks sullen.
"I tried this morning when I woke up. My shadow clones looked like you. Except smarter." She ignores Boruto's put-out look. "And it was hard using your chakra."
"Just perform henge, stupid. Transform my good-lookin' clones into your unsexy self. Or…"
Boruto's grin stretches wide.
"…I'll teach you the Sexy no Jutsu."
Silence.
He wisely takes that as a no.
"Okay then…What's your great idea, Sarada?"
She pauses, thinking.
For the umpteenth time today, Boruto sees her hand go up to smooth the ever messy, blonde hair that was now her problem. He has to stop the mental picture of slender fingers winding through his hair, if it were actually Sarada and not Sarada in his body. She tugs a strand down, probably lost in her thoughts. His hair is resistant to all but the most extreme methods of change though, and quickly bounces back.
He's always been proud of that resilient tousle, since it was one of the things that his mom tried to tame with a wet comb but never succeeded (thank kami, because Boruto didn't have the heart to tell his mom to bug off).
Back at the Uzumaki house, Sarada had gotten as far as locating the gel in Boruto's bathroom (the only brand that worked, actually) before he had got over the shell-shock of losing his manhood and immediately set some ground rules.
After some verbal warfare, Sarada had stopped threatening his hair when Himawari arrived to usher her out of Boruto's room to change out of Uchiha ceremonial wear.
So, while Boruto struggled with his own Himawari-endorsed understated sweatshirt (which he slammed over his head to relieve any responsibility for accidentally groping himself) but maddeningly periwinkle pants (which he tugged over the froggy boxers), he tried very hard to listen-yet-not listen to the girls in the next room.
...To listen to if the girls were evaluating his manhood. Gawd, he sure hoped not.
He did, however, hear snippets of conversation about how the Uchiha ceremonial haori was the only outfit Sarada was able to sneak out of her parents' house at 5:30 am when no convenience stores selling simple attire were open. Her father's clothes but also the sleeping Uchiha matriarch were tucked away in the master bedroom.
Besides her father, there is one other person Sarada doesn't want to find out about this predicament: her mom. Boruto kind of gets it, too. Sakura Uchiha is not one to mess with. Who knew what sort of medical tests they would be put through?
An unhappy sigh brings him back to the present.
"I can't think of anything that let's us both pass security at the same time and see our parents without giving us away. Clones are out of the question. And so is henge. Father will be here for the ceremony, and his eye jutsu are really powerful." Sarada fidgets unhappily in her seat. "But I think I can get us in, one at a time. Himawari had the sense to give me your custom flak uniform to wear. I can at least go to the ANBU unit, use your password—"
"HEY, speaking of which, where's your jacket? These clothes reek from Hima's perfume, and I'm suffocating here!" Boruto interrupts, too busy reevaluating the unfairness of their respective garments to comment on the plan.
"Oh," Sarada has the gall to look sheepish. "I tried to put mine on you this morning, but you're…um, fatter than I thought. A part of the zipper bent and broke."
"Fat? Geez, get real. I'm a prime specimen," he puffs. "And it wouldn't have been a problem if you had bigger b—ah, I mean…" Boruto stops and flushes, not daring to look to see if Sarada's shade matches his.
Crapcrapcrap. He's insane. Too many female hormones.
"A-anyway, it's not fat, it's muscle," Boruto finally grinds out, voice as manly as he can get it using Sarada's vocal chords. "You girls are all stupidly thin nowadays. I don't know how you expect to capture enemies with twigs for arms."
"You forget all those times I clobbered you this year."
"Unofficial matches. I let you, Four-Eyes."
He's a liar, of course. Sarada's efficient display of physical strength is the actually the scariest in the village next to her mom's.
"I'm just going to ignore that… So, as I was saying, I'll slip in as you, do your rotation, and then right before my shift starts, I'll tell the guy on watch that I'm just going to the bathroom, and step out of the gate."
"Uh-what?" Boruto is beginning to think Sarada thinking with his brain is not as brilliant as the usual Sarada. "You just went in and out again."
"Let me finish. You—with henge to look like your normal self—quickly go back in. They won't examine you carefully for a transformation jutsu if you already checked in earlier, AND only stepped out for a second. Stupid as you may be, no international assassin could kill you and switch places with you that fast. Just remember to say your crummy password to Sai and you're all set."
"Uh, thanks?" Boruto is actually pretty impressed with Sarada's ability to nest a compliment between all those insults. "But what if one of the Shins are there? Or a Hyuga?"
"That's why I'll go in first, to check who's on duty. You know all the younger ANBU are kind of scared of Sai, so they probably won't hang around."
Boruto thinks of the ever-smiling ANBU security officer. "You mean, I'll dispel the henge when I'm inside, and then do your shift of guard duty?"
"Yes."
Boruto contemplates this.
"Hmm, that's still not gonna work, Ms. Braniac."
"Why not?"
"Because," Boruto crows, half happy he caught a flaw in her plan, half angry it means they still don't have a viable option to get through the day. "You need to get back into the gated ANBU compound. Since they're expecting me to sit by Dad right after my shift finishes, I'm supposed to meet Mom at the ANBU compound at the end of my shift to go over together."
Sarada grins. "I figured. That's why—"
It's an eerie kind of grin, with a glint just as devious as the looks Boruto has seen on his sister.
"—We use this."
Sarada reaches into the jacket to hold up a familiar electric blue container of gel.
"Hey! That's mine!" Boruto has to concede, there's a wee bit of shame in this admission.
'Miracle Hold!' the label reads in excited bold letters. There's a picture of a spiky-haired blonde model, no doubt supposed to be a representation reminiscent of his ol' man, who was actually a very marketable celebrity.
"It was yours, but I nicked it."
His mouth opens to protest, but she plows on.
"I promise I'll only use this as a last resort. But you have to let me try my plan in front of the mirror to test it first."
Boruto cocks an eyebrow. He knows there's a bathroom with a small mirror here, but it's one of those extremely tiny ones for a single person. He doesn't know how comfortable he is with squeezing into that small a space with Sarada in his body and he in hers. What with his vulnerable female self and all. You know, 'cause Sarada might pull something. But then again, it's Sarada. And then again, maybe Boruto likes the idea. Maybe.
Boruto clears his throat. "Uhh...I'm not letting you walk in, do something dirty, and walk out with a stupid hairdo," he scoffs. "You know people actually buy paparazzi photos of me, right?"
The last part is true. Mostly the lowest of the lows in tabloid news, but hey, if they showed off his arms as peacetime propaganda, who cares? Good cause, right?
"Gross. That was one time, and you were being even stupider than usual. Anyway, you can just go in with me."
Sarada concession makes Boruto feel this fuzzy, hot sensation at being told to go into the small enclosed space with her, at victory of his small plan-though-not-really plan, before she levels him with another (expected) insult.
"Though I have to say, I can't believe you use this brand. Father complex, much?"
"O-Oi! You're one to talk 'ttebasa."
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Over the restaurant booth wall, two light brown tufts of hair tremor with excitement.
"Do you see them? They're clearly on a date. Look at them gab away! Are they not perfect together? I mean, look at how much chemistry is there. I can't. I can't EVEN."
"I hate sexual tension," Shikadai supplies.
Chouchou pushes him, which would have toppled a lesser shinobi.
"Well, scram then, loser. Some of us appreciate the finer things in life."
"S'troublesome. Mom says dating is overrated." The raven-haired chunnin blinks, and then looks thoughtful. "Maybe cuz her and my old man could only do long distance, and she's still bitter after all these years…"
"Hey, you guys," Inojin cuts between his teammates. Sometimes, he wonders why sixteen years on this good earth has not matured them at all. Both are space cadets and even then are never on the same wavelength. "Why are we even here? We should be debriefing our mission."
"The Hokage's staff would care much more about our debriefing if we told them their dear ol' boss's son was up to this morning," Chouchou gushes, then slides back down to her seat, her face settling behind a large stack of empty dishes. "Ugh, they are SO cute. Do you think they've already…?"
"No."
"Seriously. Just piss off, Shika."
"Guys, be quiet, already!"
Immediately, they shush.
But not because of Inojin.
Chouchou's expression is riveted and Shikadai's face expresses something along the lines of oh-yuck-I'm-so-grossed-out-right-now.
"Ohohohohoho..."
"B-bathroom…" Shikadai chokes out.
"W-what?" Sure enough, when Inojin turns around, he sees a determined-looking Boruto push a flustered Sarada through the restroom door and (hey, a good ninja notices the details) lock it.
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tbc
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Suzu:Well, wordy and long chapter. I tried to slim it down for easy reading, but actually, almost all the details matter and will play a role later on. So I leave you, dear readers, with these questions:
Why can't Sarada tell Boruto her security clearance password?
What's with the hair gel?
When will Chouchou collect her bet money?
When will people take Inojin seriously?
And how in the world can these chapter updates happen faster?
