A/N

Alright. So. I'm translating the fourth novel (as some of you may already know, if you don't it's on a separate account on Wattpad)

The_Author5262

But anyways. I wrote this before I even read that novel. And then I came across a line that I'm going to release early because I'm literally fangirling so hard right now. Half of my theory was accurate xD The paragraph from the book is as follows:

And as she thought those things, she remembered something from their past. Sarada had been a shy kid, not able to fit in with the rest of the group. It was Boruto who had invited her, with great persistence, to join them. At the time, she wasn't able to come forward honestly and express her desire to play with everyone. But she remembered feeling like he had somehow saved her.

"Jeez. No matter how much time passes, he doesn't change." As she said those words, Sarada's expression seemed happy.

So without even knowing that, I wrote this a few months ago and just saved it until I needed something else to publish in the gap of finishing another story... Without further ado. I present to you, my take on Boruto and Sarada's "Childhood."

. . .

Boruto didn't know much about the Uchiha family. When he was too young to remember, his mother said that Sarada often came over to play. There were tons of pictures of them together as babies. So he thought it was only right that as a 5 year old, he should try to be her friend.

He noticed she was alone more often than not. When he went to knock on her door to ask her if she wanted to play with Shikadai and the rest of the gang, she always hid behind the door and said she was busy. Whatever that meant.

Somewhat annoyed, he went out and had fun. But he couldn't shake the feeling of irritation that came with her refusal.

So he went back the next day. And the next. And each time, she hid behind the door and said no.

One day, after being fed up with her rejections, he finally decided to ask why.

"Why don't you come play with us? It's fun," he pouted. "What do you do in there all by yourself every day?"

Sarada hid behind the door, her toes fidgeting as her lip tucked into her mouth. "Sorry."

With that, she closed it, leaving him alone on her doorstep.

Boruto turned away and kicked a rock, sneaking one glance back over his shoulder before leaving the premises to meet with his best friend.

"Shikadai!"

"Hm? Did she reject you again?"

He blushed. "That's not important!"

"Give up Boruto, you're never going to get Sarada to play with us. She's just gloomy. Leave her alone."

In his mind, he formulated a prank. Pranks always helped him feel better when he was upset about something. "...Let's go scare that old lady's cat away."

Shikadai sighed. "Fine. But I don't want to get in trouble. I'll just watch."

It was good enough for Boruto. He ran until he reached the old lady's house. The cat was laying out in the afternoon sun like it usually was at this time of day. Sneaking up behind it, he pounced, his hands landing on either side of the previously peaceful creature.

"Hey! Is that you again, kid?! Stop scaring my cat!"

Boruto dashed out of the yard, a smile on his face. But before he could clear the grass, he felt a tight tug on the back of his t-shirt. His feet were lifted off the ground. Looking up to see a grumpy old man, Boruto clicked his tongue in defeat.

The old man made a creepy looking face, his sunken in eyes widening as his crooked yellow smile seemed to say, never come here again.

With a shiver, he squirmed out of the man's grasp and ran back to Shikadai, heart pounding in his chest.

"Did you get caught?"

"...Yeah..." He slowly slank away, kicking a dull jagged pebble as he went. Why was nothing going his way? He would go back and make Sarada Uchiha play with him if it was the last thing he did.

. . .

Sarada was sitting on the couch happily drawing a picture when she heard a knock at the door. Her mother was still at work. The blonde boy had already stopped by. Could it be... her father?!

Getting up, she raced to the door, heart pounding. But when she met the face of the blonde boy again, she stumbled backwards. Why did he keep showing up? Who even was he?

"Sarada."

He knew her name?!

"I'm coming in."

"Wai-"

Without consent, the boy walked into her house and took off his shoes. What was she supposed to do at times like this? What did her mother do when guests came to the house?

"Um..."

"You wouldn't come out to play, so I'm going to play here with you," he said, walking into the kitchen.

Finally, Sarada remembered. "I... I'll make tea!"

The boy's eyebrows wrinkled. "Tea?"

"Do... Do you not like tea?"

"Mm... I don't hate it."

If she remembered correctly, the way to make tea was to heat up water. And for that, she would have to use the stove. Pulling the stepstool over from the sink, she climbed on top and got the kettle. It was heavier than she thought it would be.

"Hey," said the boy, suddenly appearing behind her. "Do you need some help?"

She turned over her shoulder, then looked back at the kettle. It was heavy... but her mother taught her that guests shouldn't help with chores. "I'll do it."

Struggling, she picked the kettle up off the counter and nearly fell over.

"Careful! Jeez, if you need help, ask for help-ttebasa!"

Ttebasa? Where had she heard that before... It sounded so familiar... Lost in thought, she didn't even realize that the boy was helping her lift the kettle. "I'll take this... You have to fill it with water, right?"

Sarada nodded.

"Can you bring the stool over?"

She picked up the stool and placed it at the foot of the sink, watching as he climbed on top of it and filled it with water. But when he tried to pick it back up, he could barely lift it.

"Um... Can I help you?"

"No," said Boruto, grunting as he lifted it over the edge of the sink, "I can do it."

Sarada watched anxiously as he climbed off the stool. As quickly as she could, she carried it back over to the stove and set it down.

"Nnggg..." He lifted it with all his strength. "Almost..." it neared the edge of the stove. "Got it! What's next," he said, stepping down and out of breath.

Sarada thought for a moment. After water was... heat. "We have to turn it on."

"Hm? Mom said I shouldn't get close to the stove... Can you use it?"

"Yeah," said Sarada, concentrating as she turned the knob to the setting with the letters l-i-t-e. "Mama showed me how. But I have to be careful because it's hot."

Once the flame shot up from underneath the metal part, she twisted the knob just a little bit. With that, she got down from the stool.

Silence blanketed the room. "...Um..."

"Do you have any video games," the boy suddenly asked.

"What's a video game?"

He blinked at her with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "You don't know video games?"

"...No... I have paper that I use to draw... And papa started teaching me to throw shuriken."

"What's a shuriken?"

Now it was Sarada's turn to be surprised. "You don't know shuriken?"

"If you teach me shuriken, I'll teach you video games."

She thought about it for a few seconds. Her papa had said that shuriken were dangerous and had to be handled carefully. They were sharp and could hurt people. But whenever she would get little cuts on her hands, they would go away right away if her mama held them...

Finally, she made a decision. "I'll show you, but you have to be careful. They're sharp like knives."

"Sharp? What do you do with them?"

Sarada smiled. "Throw them! Like a ninja."

At the mention of ninja, the little boy's eyes lit up. "Cool!"

"I have a board in my room. Come with me."

Without checking to see if the little boy was behind her, she climbed the stairs and opened the first door on the right.

"Hmm," he said from behind her, looking around, "your room is neat."

"Is yours messy?"

He smiled. "Of course! But I mean... your room is cool. Ya know?"

She blushed at the compliment. No one had ever been in her room before. "Thanks..."

"So where are those shurkan?"

"Shuriken," Sarada corrected, going towards her drawer to pull them out. "They look like this."

The boy inspected it carefully, his blue eyes amazed at the small and dangerous objects. "Can I hold one?"

Sarada slowly nodded. "Be careful... You hold them like this," she said, demonstrating how to leave space in between your fingers and the blades.

The boy reached out and took hold of one. "Woah..."

Surprised that he didn't cut himself, she decided to demonstrate how to throw one next. "You just have to hit the target... If you focus, you can do it!" With that, she flicked her wrist, and hit the target just next to the center. Eyes sparkling, she impressed herself with her own achievement.

"Let me try!"

"Ah, wai-"

It was too late. The moment it left his hand, his hand was cut. But he still hit the board. Forgetting her momentary amazement, she turned around. The little boy was holding back tears.

What was that thing her mother always did? How did she do it?

Sarada reached out and took ahold of his hand.

"W-What are you doing?"

"I'll make it go away," she said, focusing with all her strength. But no matter how hard she focused, she couldn't get the green light to appear. "Come on..."

Tears began to drop over the boy's eyes. But he was still doing his best to hold them back. Sarada wanted to fix it for him. She knew how much it hurt. She pushed her hand against the cut. But nothing happened. Suddenly, her vision began to blur.

"I... I'm sorry," she said, holding back tears of her own. "I don't know how to fix it." With that, Sarada sunk to her knees and began to sob. It was all her fault that he got hurt.

The boy took back his hand. She thought he was angry at her. But then, she felt a hand on her head. "Don't cry."

His words were muffled. She looked up and wiped her tears to see him with his other hand on his mouth, covering the injury.

"Doesn't it hurt?" She sniffled, his hand still resting on her head.

"I'm ok. Because I'm a tough guy! Or at least, that's what dad says," he said, managing a smile as he mumbled into his injured hand. "Do you have a band aid?"

"...What's a band aid?"

"The sticky thing that you use to cover up ouchies."

"...I don't think so..."

Suddenly, they heard a whistle from downstairs. "The tea! I have to get it before it burns!"

Sarada rushed down the stairs, nearly falling, but catching herself just in time.

"Wait!"

The boy called from behind her, but for some reason, the whistle sound made her anxious. She couldn't let it go on for too long.

Running towards the stove, she climbed up on the stool. But when she went to lift the pot, it was too heavy.

"Wait," said the boy, running up behind her, "it's heavy!"

"I can do it," she said, grabbing the handle with both hands. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted with all her might. "Sha... Shannarroo!"

To her surprise, the kettle flew up into the air, splashing hot water down on her toes and head. The kettle itself was flung into the living room. And the boy was staring up at her wide eyed. "How did you..."

But Sarada's head was stinging. Her toes felt like they were burning. She tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn't.

Curling into a ball, she began to sob again.

"Hey, what happened?" The little boy put his hand on her head, but that only made it worse.

She pushed his hand away. It hurt. Everything hurt. "I want mama," she wailed, knowing her mother could fix it, if only she was there. Why did she let him in? Why did she try to make tea? Everything was going wrong.

"Here," she heard him say through her sobbing. But she could hardly see.

"Come on, let's take you to the doctor. If you got hot water on you, that's bad. It hurts, doesn't it?"

The doctor. That's where her mama was. Without thinking too much, she climbed onto the little boy's back and allowed him to take her away.