Since he joined the Konoha Ballet Company a week ago, every day that Sarada stayed late at the studio to continue rehearsing, Boruto would ask to join. At first, she wanted to complain about him distracting her with his near constant chatter, but if she was being honest his voice was not the only thing capturing her attention.

From his bare chest glistening with perspiration to the tight black pants hugging his strong thighs. Sarada tried her best to remain focused, but it was hard not to appreciate muscles sculpted from years of disciplined training.

But even with his numerous distractions, Boruto being there was beneficial. His presence allowed her to broaden the range of moves she was able to practice and grow more comfortable in partner work. He also made her take more breaks than she would usually give herself, allowing her to rest and stay hydrated.

Boruto took a sip of water, his blue eyes watching her curiously. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Sarada turned to face him, knowing he would ask his question regardless. His seemingly endless interest about her thoughts and personal details continued to confuse her.

"I noticed you always seem to keep to yourself at rehearsal…" he said. Though that was a somewhat nicer way to point out she was basically a loner, his phrasing still put the onus on her as if she chose to be disliked by everyone.

"That wasn't a question," she muttered, the corner of her lips curving down.

"Well, I guess the question is why? Why don't you talk to anyone? Or like, try to be friends with the other ballerinas?"

Sarada had to fight the urge to scoff. For as observant as Boruto proved to be, she didn't understand how he hadn't realized… "Those girls don't want to be friends with me."

"Don't say that," Boruto tsked. He clearly did not grasp that this wasn't a new problem for her. She had always been excluded by her colleagues. "They're probably just intimidated by you."

Sarada shot him an incredulous look. The idea that the other dancers were intimidated by her felt like a ludicrous suggestion. What did they even have to be intimidated about? She was the one constantly striving to prove that she deserved her spot in the company.

Boruto persisted, "come on, you won't know that unless you talk to them. They're nice once you get to know them."

"Or maybe they're just nice to you because you're hot," Sarada grumbled with an irritated roll of her eyes.

Why wouldn't he just listen?! Her colleagues were indifferent to her at best. She kept quiet during rehearsal for self-preservation.

A blonde brow quirked up. "Wait, what was that? Did you just say you think I'm hot?"

"What?! No!" Her face flushed with embarrassment. "I said they think you're hot."

"That's not what you said," Boruto grinned, blue eyes glittering with mirth. "I'm pretty sure you said I was hot like it was an objective fact."

Sarada pursed her lips. What was his stupid game?! Did he just want her to admit that yes, she and probably everyone else thought he was attractive?! She refused to give him the satisfaction.

Her stubborn pout only seemed to further amuse him. "Just admit it, you think I'm hot."

She pressed her pointer finger against his chest, putting him in his place. "What I think is that you're nosy and annoying."

"And hot," he added under his breath.

The quiet chatter of the other customers mixed with the sound of whistling milk steamers as Sarada stood in the queue of her usual coffee shop. Dark eyes cast up, reviewing the merits of the new items on the menu. A futile exercise considering she was almost certainly going to get the same thing she ordered everyday.

Sarada liked routine, she liked predictability.

"Fancy seeing you here," a voice hummed beside her ear, sending an unexpected shiver up her spine. She spun around to face a grinning Boruto.

"I always get my coffee here," Sarada reminded him. If anything, his being there was the anomaly.

"I know. That's why I decided to try it."

Nearly every day, she arrived at rehearsal with a fresh coffee in hand. He must have simply noticed the logo branded on the cup. Even so, Sarada couldn't help the way her eyes widened at the confession, always caught off guard by his observations.

Rather quickly he was able to decode her facial expressions to tell how she felt about a particular lift or promenade as they practiced. He noticed which was her favored leg. And now where she got her coffee.

They were just minor details, nothing really that notable, but Sarada still couldn't wrap her head around his interest in her.

"Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations," she nodded, trying not to think about how she may feel if Boruto happened to hate her favorite coffee shop.

When Sarada turned around and stepped up to the counter, she was greeted by the familiar face of a brunette barista. "Good morning, Sarada. How's the day treating you so far?"

"It's going fine, thank you," she replied. Though the day was just barely getting started for her and most others who didn't have to open a coffee shop.

"Can I offer you a pastry to make your day a little sweeter?" he asked, a wide smile stretching across his lips. "On the house!"

Sarada shook her head, even as her eyes glanced over at the delectable-looking pastries on display. "Oh no, thank you. I'm heading to rehearsal."

And she really shouldn't eat something that's just sugar and carbs.

"I get it, just your usual house blend then?" Her brow furrowed slightly, confused as to why he looked disappointed at her refusal.

"Yes, iced please." Sarada placed a tip in the jar by the register and returned his smile. Even if she couldn't accept the sweet gesture, she hoped he knew it was still appreciated.

She stepped aside but not all the way to the receiving counter, waiting for a moment for Boruto to order. But as she observed their exchange at the register, she couldn't help but notice the barista's smile wasn't as bright for Boruto.

"Wait, so could I get a free pastry?" he asked with an amused grin. "Or is that offer only for pretty girls?"

Sarada's mouth fell open in shock and embarrassment. Why would he say that?!

The barista glanced between her and Boruto, quickly making the connection that they knew each other somehow. He then plastered on a practiced customer service smile. "It's actually an offer exclusively for our loyal customers. Sorry."

Boruto fought the urge to snicker at the complete lack of remorse in his apology. "Can I just get a medium iced Americano then?"

He paid and ushered her over to the receiving counter, where they waited for their coffee. Sarada wanted to ask what compelled him to ask the barista such a ridiculous question, but he spoke first.

His voice was hushed, but still carrying his earlier teasing light. "You know that guy was flirting with you, right?"

"What?!" Sarada gawked. "No he wasn't! He's just very nice!"

"Really, you think? Because he wasn't very nice to me," Boruto chuckled.

"He didn't give you a free pastry because you're not a loyal customer, like me!" she argued with a frustrated pout.

"I'm pretty sure it had more to do with him thinking we're together."

"He doesn't think that," Sarada insisted. Because why would anyone think a guy that looked like Boruto was with someone like her?!

"You want to bet?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Watch this."

She inhaled a sharp breath as she felt Boruto's hand slide over her hip and pull her against him. He leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over her ear. Dancing together, Boruto had touched her waist a near hundred times in the short time they've known each other, but outside of such context, the contact made her cheeks grow pink.

"Alright, now don't be obvious, but look over at our little barista friend, because if he's watching this then he definitely has been flirting with you," he told her.

Sarada managed to peek in the barista's direction just in time to catch him so interested in them that the steamed milk he was pouring into someone's latte overflowed out of the mug and all over the counter.

"Shit!" he uttered as he pulled a towel from his apron. Boruto turned to catch him frantically wiping up the mess.

"Oof, point proven," Boruto said with a self-satisfied smirk. His hand still lingered on her waist despite the fact that their little charade seemed to be over.

"You didn't prove anything. I always come in alone, he was probably just surprised I have any friends." She bit her tongue wondering if it was presumptuous to call Boruto her friend already.

Though they've known each other less than two weeks, she already felt closer to him than any of the other dancers in the company.

Boruto didn't seem phased by the label, instead, he rolled his eyes. "That or he likes you."

Sarada couldn't think of a single reason why he would. "Agree to disagree."

When Sarada walked into the locker room, she felt the eyes of the other dancers shift toward them. Whether it was because they were surprised she was smiling or surprised she was with Boruto, she wasn't really sure. But the attention was making her uncomfortable, so she ducked her head and hurried into the dressing room to change.

As she rolled on her pale pink tights, Sarada questioned why everyone seemed so fascinated by her blossoming friendship with Boruto. Was it really so strange to see someone enjoy her company? (Or at least she assumed Boruto enjoyed her company).

Sarada blinked at her reflection as she pulled on a black leotard and a cropped pink sweater. Was she really so drab, so boring that her having a friend was a spectacle?! She exhaled a sigh as she slipped out of the dressing room and walked over to an empty locker. Maybe that's why Boruto asked her so many questions, he's waiting for her to finally say something interesting.

Dark eyes glanced to the side as Eida leaned against the wall of white lockers beside her, a curious smile on her glossy lips. "You and Boruto had a little coffee date this morning?"

Sarada's brow furrowed as she shoved her duffle into the locker. "Oh, no… we just ran into each other there," she mumbled. Why would she ever assume Boruto asked her on a date?

"So you didn't hook up last night?"

Her eyes grew wide, scandalized by the assumption. Her lips parted but struggled to form a reply to such a blunt question. "I…What? No! He's not… I mean, it's not like that."

Eida's smile grew wider, seemingly unphased by how flustered she had become. "So you wouldn't mind if I pursue him?"

An uncomfortable feeling knotted deep in Sarada's stomach. What a weird thing to ask. She barely even knew Boruto, why would Eida think she had any authority to tell her she could or could not pursue him? Honestly though, with her beautiful features and slender figure, Eida was probably exactly the type of girl Boruto would like.

"Do whatever you want," Sarada muttered with forced nonchalance.

"Awesome!" Eida squeaked, giving her a little side hug before skipping away.

She grabbed her coffee off the ledge of her locker, taking a swig to wash down the sudden bad taste in her mouth. If Boruto started hanging out with Eida, he'd probably be too busy to rehearse with her.

Which would be fine…

He was mostly a distraction anyway.

When Sarada walked into the studio, several of the other dancers had begun their stretches, but her eyes still gravitated to where Boruto stood. She halfway expected Eida to be all over him, but instead, he was in the corner talking to his father. His expression slightly pained.

She found her place on the barre, barely able to tune in to the tail end of their conversation.

"… come over for dinner? And you can pick up the rest of your stuff," Naruto suggested earnestly.

Boruto's eyes seemed to avoid his father. "Can't you just drop it off to me," he mumbled.

Naruto pressed his lips into a hard line, unsatisfied with that response and yet unsure what else he could say. "Let's talk more later. Our guest just arrived."

Guest? Intrigued dark eyes followed Director Uzumaki across the room toward the door of the studio where an older blonde woman stood. Sarada's mouth nearly fell open as he ushered her into the room.

What was she doing here? Visiting Naruto or something more?! The prospect of working with someone of her caliber was making Sarada dizzy. Silence fell over the studio as the other dancers took notice of her. Some in awe and admiration, others in fear.

"Good morning, everyone!" Naruto called. "As you can see we have an extra special guest joining us today, a woman who needs no introduction, Tsunade Senju!"

A combination of botox and the best wrinkle cream money could buy might hide her age, but the critical look in her amber eyes told of her decades of experience.

If her mother and Director Uzumaki were legends, Tsunade Senju was a god.

She gave the crowd of dancers a cursory once over as Naruto continued, "With Boruto joining us last week, and the summer program coming up quickly, we thought it was an appropriate time to start talking about the company's next prima ballerina..."

Sarada's eyes widened as she stood up a little straighter. Now was finally her chance. She just had to prove herself worthy.

With the intense mental and physical strain of practicing ballet, the constant threat of injury, and the competition of emerging young talent, every season that passed, the window of opportunity was closing on her dream. She was already behind her mother who had been named prima ballerina at age 24.

But clearly Sarada wasn't the only one feeling the pressure, every girl in the company seemed to be holding their breath, waiting on Director Uzumaki's next words.

"…Tsunade will be assisting with the evaluations and then with the program. So let's all work hard, okay?"

The dancers offered Tsunade anxious smiles and a welcoming applause. She crossed her arms over her chest before announcing, "Naruto assures me you're a promising bunch, so let's get started and I'll decide if that's true."

Sarada swallowed nervously as she settled into first position at the barre. Tsunade was more than a strict choreographer; she was a star-maker. She personally trained both Director Uzumaki and her mother. Her tutelage was exactly what Sarada needed to reach the next level.

As their accompanist began to play, all the dancers pliéd in time. Tsunade meandered through the studio, critical eyes evaluating each of them as they ran through their warm-up.

"Chin up. Back straight," she reminded them. Tsunade was not shy about hands-on corrections or pointed personal critiques.

"So stiff, you look robotic."

"Do you even want to be here?!"

Sarada tried not to tense, but each word that fell from Tsunade's lips made her all the more anxious. It quickly became apparent that Tsunade's evaluation of each member of the company extended beyond just their dancing.

"Hot pink highlights… really?" she scoffed, eyeing Eida disapprovingly as she admirably continued her tendus. "Ew don't sickle your feet, what are you an amateur?"

Her amber gaze then shifted to Kawaki and her nose scrunched in distaste. "Do you have enough piercings there?" Tsunade then turned her head to address Naruto. "Are you running a ballet company or some punk band?! Is there seriously no dress code here?"

Director Uzumaki grimaced, caught between his mentor and his mentee, who was looking more irritated by the second. Thankfully she moved on before Kawaki felt compelled to snap back.

"Chest up. Stop watching your own feet."

"Relax your shoulders."

"Looks like someone here has been having too many midnight snacks."

Sarada felt the air leave her lungs like she was just punched in the gut.

A criticism about her dancing she could take, she could learn from, but about her weight?! About her body, she already so shamefully tried to hide?!

Dark eyes glanced to the side, shocked to discover Tsunade wasn't even talking to her.

But her colleague several paces away looked equally mortified by the comment.

Sarada snapped her gaze back forward as Tsunade's purposeful steps headed in her direction. Her body managed to stay on count, even as she feared she may begin to tremble.

Boruto was the first to speak to her directly. "You look as young as ever, Tsunade. Did you get a new surgeon?"

Quiet gasps echoed through the studio, several of the other dancers were appalled he would deign to speak to her like that.

"Shut up you little shithead," she retorted with a fierce glare. "And point your toes."

When her amber gaze slid past him, Sarada could practically feel her heart pounding in her ears. Why did Boruto have to irritate Tsunade right before she evaluated her?!

Sarada tried her best to keep herself composed but she already knew whatever critique Tsunade dumped on her will haunt her for weeks.

She stood there for several silent moments, lips pursed, eyes focused on her every movement. Sarada forced herself to breathe, swearing she watched her for twice as long as any of the other dancers.

And then, Tsunade simply walked away.

What did that even mean?! She had so many critiques she couldn't even decide which to point out?!

Throughout the rest of rehearsal, Sarada's fretful thoughts spiraled, wondering if she would get handed some lengthy list of her flaws or was so beyond helping that Tsunade just planned to tell Naruto to cut her from the company altogether.

When Director Uzumaki dismissed rehearsal, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Tsunade was brutal, but they could all recognize how much she could help them improve both individually and as a company.

As the dancers began heading to the locker room, per usual Sarada stayed behind.

She nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot, contemplating what exactly she wanted to say. When Tsunade pulled a clipboard from her bag, she feared approaching her now would be interrupting something important.

Sarada internally admonished herself for feeling so hesitant, Tsunade wouldn't respect her if she was too meek. With a deep breath and a few purposeful steps, she crossed the room. "I wanted to introduce myself, I'm —"

"Sarada Uchiha," Tsunade finished for her without even looking up from her clipboard. She seemed to be scribbling notes about all the dancers down, and Sarada found herself tempted to lean forward to try and get a peek. "Twenty-five years old. Daughter of Sakura Harano."

Dark brows pinched together. Did she have all that information in her notes?

Tsunade glanced up from her clipboard. "You wear nicer clothes, but you look just like her. Same bone structure, same posture…"

Sarada was surprised to hear that, being that most people said she looked like her father.

"… well that, and it was about two decades ago that my star protégé told me she was hanging up her pointe shoes because her rich, new husband knocked her up. The timing was a real shame too. She had at least three or four more good years left in her career," Tsunade sighed. "But I digress."

In an instant, Sarada's heart fell to her stomach. It was like the earth slipped off its axis, and suddenly the room was spinning. Each breath became harder to inhale.

She had never put that together. That getting pregnant ended her mother's career.

That she ended her mother's career.

Tsunade raised a questioning eyebrow at her pale face. "Did you want to ask me something?"

"Um…" She swallowed thickly, trying to reorient her world enough to speak words. "I-I just wanted to say I'm really looking forward to working with you. If you would please excuse me," Sarada mumbled before scurrying away.