A bell chimed as Sarada pushed open the door to her favorite coffee shop. The smell of fresh pastries and the ambient music always provided a warm welcome, but it was the blasting air conditioning that had her sighing with relief as she entered the queue to order her drink.

With her eyes fixed on the chalkboard menu above the counter, Sarada tugged uncomfortably at the collar of her oversized cardigan. Sweat slithered down her back, reminding her a humid summer was approaching much more quickly than she'd like to admit.

Sarada often told people winter was her favorite season because of her fondness for The Nutcracker or the chilly weather, but more than that, the cold offered her the excuse to bundle up and conceal her body.

In the warmth of big sweaters and chunky scarves were some of her favorite places to hide. Summer fashion was always much more revealing and left Sarada feeling self-conscious.

"Good morning, Sarada," a cheerful brunette barista greeted as she stepped toward the counter. He was there most mornings that she had rehearsal.

"Morning," she replied, offering him a polite smile in return. Sarada could hardly fathom how someone could be as chipper as he was in the morning. But then again, maybe the endless supply of coffee had something to do with it.

"Did you want to try one of our new seasonal brews or stick to your usual house blend?" He must have noticed her eyeing the menu.

"Just a small house blend is fine, thanks," she replied as she pulled out her wallet to pay, stuffing a few dollars in their tip jar.

"Thanks!" he beamed. "I'll have that coming up for you right away!"

Sarada stepped over to the receiving counter, wondering if the change in season also called for a change in her coffee order. It was only a few moments before she was accepting the small coffee from the brunette barista's hands. "Enjoy! I'll see you tomorrow!"

Sarada nodded before blowing the steam from her coffee. When she took a sip, the hot temperature had her grimacing. Her burnt tongue throbbing. Okay, yeah, maybe it was about time to switch to iced coffee.

When Sarada arrived at the ballet studio, a handful of the other girls were already there, whispering excitedly. Her gaze lingered on them as she passed, curiosity tickling the back of her mind. She found herself tempted to ask what was going on, but she didn't want them to think she was nosy. So, Sarada silently stepped into the dressing room instead.

It was probably none of her business anyway.

With a sigh, she dropped her duffle on the bench and set her coffee beside it. Sarada wasn't really sure what made her more uncomfortable, when the other dancers talked so quietly she couldn't hear and was left to guess or when they talked so loudly she could hear and still somehow felt excluded.

More than once she had overheard their gossip. Often it was Eida bragging about some new guy that was head over heels for her. She seemed to believe no man could resist her charms.

Sarada couldn't help but wonder if Eida was exaggerating for the sake of an entertaining story, or if there was really something so wrong with her that while her peers had dozens of admirers, Sarada herself couldn't get a single man to look her way.

Then again, with her shiny indigo hair and long, slender legs, Eida was one of the prettiest ballerinas in the company.

But she certainly wasn't the only beauty at Konoha Ballet. Sumire had unique violet eyes, a slim waist, and this quiet elegance about her. And Namida was so small and dainty, all the male dancers could lift her with ease.

Well, and Sarada she was…

Dark eyes drifted to the full-length dressing room mirror, assessing her own gloomy reflection. She tried to think of one or two redeeming qualities but all she could see were flaws and areas for improvement.

Sarada tore her gaze away from the mirror, trying to refocus on getting dressed. But her face began to feel hot as she desperately pushed back the wave of emotion such comparisons always inevitably brought.

With a calming deep breath, Sarada pulled on a pair of white tights and a pale pink leotard. As she smoothed her hands over the fabric, she tried to think about anything else. Eventually, her mind wandered to the blonde stranger she met the night before. However odd the interaction was, meeting him had Sarada reconsidering her interest in partner work.

Silently, she reviewed a list of potential partners as she slipped out of the dressing room, placed her bag in the closest locker, and made her way into the studio to begin stretching. All of the men at the company were fine dancers, each offering a unique style and personality to their movement. Sarada wondered if there was anyone who would be a compatible match for her.

Or if anyone would even want to dance with her in the first place… Dark eyes glanced around the room as Sarada wondered if she would even be able to convince any of the guys to dance with her.

Inojin was jovial and creative, movement seemed to flow freely from his body. But he'd probably find her too stiff.

Shikadai was friendly but knew when it was time to be serious. He was skilled and probably one of the more sought-after partners, due to his ability to adapt to other's style. But if he had his pick of ballerinas, it probably wouldn't be her.

Kawaki was rather talented, but the perpetual scowl on his face made him rather unapproachable. He also seemed to be brooding more than usual that day.

Maybe she should just stick to practicing by herself for now. With a harsh swallow, she reminded herself the last thing her fragile heart needed was the pain of disappointing someone else with her lack of talent.

Just as everyone was beginning to line up at the barre for their warm-up exercises, the sound of an approaching conversation stole the attention of the room. A moment later, Director Uzumaki was walking into the studio. Sarada's brows rose in surprise to discover her blonde stranger following closely behind.

She softly shook her head. No wonder he was so amused she hadn't puzzled together his identity. Standing next to Director Uzumaki the resemblance was uncanny.

"Hey, everybody! Good morning!" Naruto greeted with his signature grin. His booming voice prompting all the dancers to turn and listen. "I have some very exciting news to share with you all. I know many of you have met him, but I thought I would formally introduce my son, Boruto Uzumaki..."

Boruto offered the group of dancers a weary smile as his father threw an arm around his shoulders. He seemed noticeably less confident than he had the night before.

"... he'll be joining the Konoha Ballet Company as our new principal dancer..."

The announcement inspired some surprised gasps and hushed whispers from the other dancers. It seemed even those who knew he was joining the company, didn't know it would be in such a capacity.

Principal dancer was the highest rank in the company, meaning Boruto was set to be the male counterpart to the next prima ballerina.

"We were lucky enough to steal him away from the Shinobi Alliance Touring Company, so please give him a warm welcome!" Naruto concluded. Everyone politely applauded which only seemed to make Boruto feel more embarrassed.

His blue eyes scanned the small crowd of the dancers whispering amongst themselves until they landed on Sarada. If she wasn't mistaken, the corner of his lips curved up ever so slightly. Whether it was from the relief of seeing a (somewhat) familiar face or something else entirely, Sarada wasn't sure.

"I look forward to working with you all," Boruto said, though her stomach did a stupid nervous somersault as if he was talking to her directly.

A sudden wave of shyness had Sarada dropping her gaze to the floor. She began pointing and flexing her toes in an attempt to look busy.

He was smiling at everybody. He was looking forward to working with everybody. It was weird to think he would single her out. They met once and he laughed at her for not realizing who he was. Director Uzumaki mentioned that other dancers already knew him. He probably already has friends in the company.

The last thing the new principal dancer was doing was smiling at the weird, gloomy girl who was always alone.

It was fine. Really. His presence changed nothing about her goals.

But just as Sarada thought that her mind recalled the way his hands felt on her waist. Of her earlier internal debate about pursuing pas de deux.

"Is this spot taken?"

Dark eyes flickered over to the masculine hand holding the barre beside her — the very hand she was just reminiscing about touching her body — before traveling up to his face. Boruto raised a brow at her prolonged silence.

"Yes… I'm mean, no." She shook her head as a blush crept over her cheeks. "I mean, no, the spot isn't taken. Yes, you can stand there."

Sarada awkwardly looked away, but she could practically feel the smile that spread across his lips. "Great."

She didn't understand why the new principal would choose a spot in the back corner next to her, instead of in the middle. Maybe he thought it was a better vantage point to size up the rest of the company. She tensed at the sudden idea that he would be judging her as well.

He didn't make any more attempts to spark conversation with her, though Sarada didn't really expect him to. Instead, they stretched in silence beside each other as she stole shy glances in his direction.

She found herself wondering why Boruto would leave such a prestigious international touring company? Or why didn't he initially dance at the Konoha Ballet when his father was the director? Where did he get his training? Maybe he went to the Senju School for Performing Arts? That would make sense with Naruto being one of their most notable alumni and would explain how some of the other dancers at the company already knew him.

Their accompanist began playing the baby grand piano in the corner of the room. Her body ran through each warm-up exercise as mistress Moegi called the count aloud. But her mind continued to rattle off questions about Boruto, at least until she became distracted by the flex of his muscles with each of his precise movements.

By late afternoon rehearsal was dismissed and the dancers of the Konoha Ballet Company wandered into the locker room to pack up for the day. Sarada, however, lingered in the studio, deciding she needed to keep practicing despite the pang of hunger in her stomach.

When Mirai stepped down as prima ballerina after the company's spring performance, all the girls anxiously awaited the announcement of her replacement. But weeks passed, and ultimately they decided to leave the role vacant. Sarada feared that Director Uzumaki thought none of them were ready and would recruit someone from outside of the company.

But now especially with Boruto being announced as the principal dancer and the summer program on the horizon, Sarada had a feeling the next prima ballerina would be chosen soon, and she needed to prove she was worthy.

"Are you staying late again today?"

Sarada turned to find Boruto standing in the doorway, staring at her with earnest blue eyes. Without waiting for a reply, he allowed his duffle to slip off his shoulder and drop to the floor as he stepped back into the studio. As he crossed the floor toward her he revised his question.

"Do you stay late every day?"

Sarada shrugged as her gaze fell to her hands holding the barre. "I mean, not every day, but I'm sure you may have noticed that I need it."

She bit her cheek immediately after the words fell from her lips, feeling pretty presumptuous that he would be interested enough to watch her as much as she watched him during rehearsal.

Sarada peeked out from the corner of her eye to find Boruto much closer than he had been before, his hand on the barre beside hers. His footsteps were surprisingly light for someone of his size. Blonde brows furrowed together as his lips parted, but before he spoke a commotion outside the door distracted them both. A hushed but obviously tense conversation.

"Can we please talk in my office?" Director Uzumaki said to a visibly frustrated Kawaki, before ushering him down the hall.

Sarada blinked at the now empty doorway, unsure what to make of the scene she witnessed. She was under the impression they were quite close. Naruto was Kawaki's mentor from back when he studied at the Senju School.

"He's mad about me," Boruto muttered, answering her unasked question.

Dark eyes snapped back to him. "What?"

He reverted back to the more reserved posture he had in rehearsal. Boruto stared at the floor, his hand gripping the barre tighter as his lips pressed into a hard line. "I'm sure he thought he was going to be chosen to be the next principal…"

"Oh…"

"Actually I'm sure a handful of the other guys may resent me for that very reason. I bet they'll blame nepotism or whatever, but…" Boruto sighed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"From what you demonstrated today, it seemed to me everyone acknowledged that you're quite an exceptional dancer."

Blue eyes flickered up to meet hers, a shy, but genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you… for saying that."

She was just being honest, but the way he lit up from her validation made something in her stomach flutter.

"Hey, would you mind if I stay and rehearse a little longer with you?"

"Oh, uh…" Sarada blinked at him in surprise. Nobody had ever asked to stay after with her. "Yeah, I guess that's fine with me."

A/N: principal dancer is a gender-neutral term, and often big ballet companies will have several dancers of this rank, though in this story I make it one male and one female, and refer to the female lead as the prima ballerina.