AN: Konoha is supposedly in a time of peace and yet still trains child soldiers. I thought it'd be interesting to explore a loss of innocence in this dueling environment. Music heavily influences my work. A lot of thematic inspiration for this story came from Baby Teeth by Flower Face.

This is an angsty coming of age story. It contains canon-typical violence, underage drinking, recreational drug use, and allusions to sex. The uncensored version will be posted elsewhere.

This is a slow burn SasuBoru romance. It should go without saying, but nothing romantic happens between these two until Boruto is an adult, besides the development of his burgeoning crush. We follow him as he grows up since that's literally the plot.

Popsicle | Disciple | Resolve

.twelve

Boruto chose grape because he liked the color, and because he figured the flavor was a safe choice. He paid for the popsicle with the last of his allowance. Now that he was a genin, he'd soon be making his own money on missions, but until then he had to depend on what his dad gave him.

Taking a shortcut through the woods, he flitted through the treetops on his way to the training grounds. He was cutting it close, but he had to time this perfectly. Too quick and the popsicle would melt while he waited around. Too slow and there wouldn't be enough time. He had done a few trial runs throughout the week just to make sure he wouldn't mess up the route, assuring himself it was because he didn't want to show up late.

As his momentum carried him from branch to branch, spring air whipped across his face, smelling sweet and clean. The day carried a sense of new beginnings. A surge of excitement streaked through his gut when he sensed Sasuke in the upcoming clearing. Since he tended to arrive early, Boruto had, too. He figured it would give them some time together before they were supposed to begin.

At their meeting point, he spotted Sasuke standing near a large stone half buried in the ground.

"You're here," he called as he leapt down and landed in the shade of a tree. He could hardly keep his grin in check, giddiness bubbling up.

"Where else would I be? Your training starts today." Sasuke inclined his head slightly, but didn't look up from a scroll he was reading. "Unless you've already forgotten."

"I didn't."

He had been counting down the days, ticking off the hours. He barely even slept the night before, fidgeting in bed until daylight peeked through the curtains.

Sometimes Boruto still couldn't believe his luck. Sasuke had really accepted him as his student. A disciple to one of the most powerful shinobi in the world—and hands down, the coolest.

"What is that, anyway?" He gestured to the scroll, standing on his tiptoes to try and steal a peek.

"Important."

"Gonna tell me what it's about?"

"No."

In other words, Boruto wasn't important enough to tell.

"Tch, whatever. I bet it's probably boring."

The scroll was probably full of secrets. Sasuke would get in trouble if he shared them. No problem. Boruto could respect that.

Sasuke continued to read as if he wasn't there. As the minutes ticked by, he shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a neutral position that didn't look too forced or awkward. What did he do with his hands? How did Sasuke make standing around look so effortless? Boruto silently mimicked his stance—legs apart, spine straight, shoulders back. Nothing about it felt natural. He usually slouched.

Giving up, he unwrapped the popsicle and snapped it in half, a perfect break along its fault line.

"Here—for you." He offered Sasuke one half as he popped the other into his mouth.

When Boruto had been six or seven, his dad decided he was old enough to begin learning fighting techniques. Right before their first lesson together, Naruto split a popsicle with him just like this. Well, almost—he hadn't made such a clean break, but that was okay because he gave Boruto the larger half. Grinned and said it was a good way to set the tone.

It made Boruto really happy at the time, more about the gesture than the actual treat. This was before his dad became Hokage, back when he still made time for his family. The memory always made him a little wistful, but it still brought comfort, so he wanted to establish the same kind of bond with his master, too. There was little of value he could provide at this point in his life—nothing Sasuke would care about—so it felt like the right kind of offering. A nice thing to share.

The sun was hot on his back. A thin layer of frost had formed on the popsicle. Tiny rivulets of purple ran down his outstretched hand, dripping onto the dirt below.

Sasuke finally glanced at it from the corner of his eye. "No, thanks."

Boruto' hopes toppled like a tower of poorly stacked blocks. This wasn't how he'd imagined this interaction going, not from all the times he played it out in his head. Hiding his disappointment, he withdrew his hand.

"Do you not like grape?"

He should have done better research, figured out what Sasuke liked instead of assuming.

"I don't eat sweets."

"Really? Why not?" He eyed Sasuke's stomach. "Are you on a diet or something?"

His mother tended to watch what she ate, but never his dad. It was a thing only women did. Was Sasuke careful about his weight? That was weird.

"I just don't like them."

Even weirder. Boruto nibbled at his popsicle, stalling for time as he tried to think of a more insightful question. "That's kind of strange, isn't it?" he blurted.

If Sasuke heard him, he didn't care. His face smoothed out as he continued reading.

"More for me," he mumbled, shrugging as he wandered over to the wooden pavilion in the middle of the clearing.

The pavilion was an old, weathered structure meant to act as a rest spot for those wandering back and forth from the training grounds. Its benches guaranteed splinters. People mostly used it as a signboard for announcements, nailing flyers to the wood with old shuriken. He rarely paid attention to them. They were usually about boring stuff that held no interest to him—politics, community events, people selling their shitty old belongings.

He sat on one of the railings in front of a row of new flyers while he waited, legs kicking in the air as he quickly chewed down what was meant to be Sasuke's portion of the popsicle, then slurped slower on his own half. So much for spending extra time together. Must have been real important if Sasuke wouldn't even give him the time of day. This was his dad's dismissals all over again. Sulking, Boruto watched him with a critical eye.

Sasuke stood in the sun, but despite the heat and wearing all those dark clothes, he didn't seem fazed. The wind picked up, blowing his hair back and sending his cloak flapping, revealing his weapons, his missing arm, his stylish outfit, the rinnegan.

Boruto smiled as he ate, another wave of excitement rolling through him. It was impossible to deny, wasn't it? Sasuke was just too cool. It was hard to find fault. He wasn't even that mad for being ignored. They were here in the end. Sasuke was still going to train him.

Besides, this was his dad's rival.

If Sasuke could give Naruto a run for his money—and Boruto was going to learn from him—then he'd definitely become strong enough to show up his dad. Then he'd be forced to take Boruto seriously, pay more attention, spend time with him. He just wanted his dad back. This would solve everything.

At ten on the dot, Sasuke rolled up his scroll. Boruto straightened in anticipation.

"You ready now?"

Sasuke started to speak and paused, gaze sharpening as it landed his way. Annoyance clouded his placid expression, a ripple across the still surface of a pond. He tucked the scroll under the stub of his arm and strode over with purpose.

Boruto glanced around, sure he had missed something obvious. What had he done wrong?

"Is there something—oh!"

He startled, popsicle stick slipping from his fingers and landing on his lap as his view of the sunny clearing disappeared, blocked out by a shadowy silhouette. A whiff of something smoky prickled his nose, the scent fighting against the clean smell of the earth. Sasuke was practically on top of him, his hip leaning against one of Boruto's swinging legs.

Stealing a furtive glance up, he took in the sharp angles of his face. Sasuke wasn't paying him any attention at all, too busy scowling at something over his shoulder. He had no idea what he was so pissed about and he didn't really care. None of it mattered. Boruto was too fixated to pay it any mind.

Everything went very slow. His nerves fired on all cylinders, heart hammering in his chest. He became very aware of the taste of grape in his mouth, self-conscious of the stickiness on his lips and fingers, the wet spot where the last dregs of popsicle had melted.

Boruto was considered mature for his age. As the Hokage's son, people around the village tended to treat him with a bit more indulgence than they would the other kids. He wanted to be taken seriously, so he acted much older than he was to compensate for it.

In one crystallizing second, all of that went out the window. Compared to the man in front of him, he was nothing. Sasuke viewed him as a child, and so he was utterly reduced to that status by his sheer presence.

A popsicle. He had brought him a popsicle.

Boruto flushed, a small seed of shame blooming in his stomach. How stupid he must have seemed. Feeling very small and insecure, he quickly brushed the stick away onto the dirt, grateful his pants were black so the purple stain wouldn't show. He pushed off the railing, gaze down as he slipped past Sasuke. Looking at him for any longer than necessary suddenly made Boruto nervous. He shoved his hands in pockets and glanced off towards the trees.

"Are we gonna start soon?"

Sasuke had ripped a flyer off the signboard and was shoving it into his pouch. He blinked as if seeing Boruto for the first time, expression relaxing from anger to neutrality. His gaze flickered to the purple stick lying in the dirt.

"Training ground six."

By the time they arrived, Boruto's mood had lifted. The weird tension he felt earlier had disappeared. With everything back to normal, his excitement returned.

"Alright, old man—what's first?"

"First you learn a little respect." The sheath of Sasuke's sword swung around lightning quick and tapped him on the cheek. "You'll refer to me as your master, or by my name."

Boruto found this all a little too formal. Sasuke was old, wasn't he? Older. He said these kinds of things to all the adults. Most of them didn't seem to care, and the ones who did were lame. Maybe Sasuke wasn't so cool after all.

He squinted, a smirk creeping up his face. "And what if I don't?"

"Then I'll knock the words out of your mouth."

The sheath tapped him under the chin, quick and hard, making his teeth click together painfully. Boruto winced and backed away.

"Hm, you're the boss."

Better to do as told. Sasuke wasn't joking around.

As it turned out, all of his lessons were equally brutal. Boruto learned everything the hard way right from the very start. He should have known it was his way of helping him prepare for the future; a small taste of what was to come.

"Coddled."

Sasuke thought Boruto's hands were too soft. He scoffed when he made the discovery.

In what seemed like a personal vendetta, he ran Boruto through grueling weapons drills, made him clutch kunai until he developed painful blisters. They practiced setting traps with razor wire so thin it cut into his skin. Sasuke would periodically run off on missions. It caused delays in their training. Even with the breaks, Boruto's hands continued to ache days later while waiting for his return.

Sasuke wasn't as forgiving as his teachers at the academy. Boruto discovered this when learning to combat genjutsu. He was meant to slip through some illusions and successfully hit a target. He was only allowed to break the jutsu by protecting his mind using one of the techniques he'd been taught, but Sasuke kept increasing the power of the sharingan, making it impossible for Boruto to get past his defenses.

In a moment of frustration, Boruto chose to blow a fistful of dust his way with some help from a wind release. A little dirt in his eyes. He only meant to create an opening.

The next thing he knew, Sasuke kicked his legs out from under him. Boruto hit the ground front first, the air knocked from his lungs. He couldn't breathe, but that didn't stop Sasuke from leaning a knee on the small of his back and twisting his arm up between his shoulder blades. He cried out in agony as Sasuke wrenched it up even further, straining the tendon until Boruto was afraid it would pop.

Sasuke wouldn't actually break his arm. Would he? He wouldn't.

It occurred to Boruto he didn't actually know.

All of this left him stunned. Fighting kids his own age was no sweat, and he could even take down some of the adults. There were still a ton who could beat him—his parents, Aunt Hanabi, Lord Six—but none of them came at him without holding back. No one had ever tried to hurt him like this.

"There are no cheap tricks studying under me." Sasuke's voice rolled from somewhere above like distant thunder. "Do it right or I'll make sure it breaks you."

"Uh-huh." A rock dug into his cheek as he nodded. "Alright already, I get it. Can you get off me now?"

He pushed to his feet when he was released, nerves tingling. He played it off, but Sasuke had shaken him—and if he was being honest, he had been elevated to an entirely new level of cool in Boruto's mind.

This was the kind of ninja he wanted to be. None of the kiddie crap they taught in the academy. He wanted to hit hard, command respect, breeze through the world as if nothing in it affected him. Boruto clenched his fists, body humming with adrenaline, so energized he fidgeted. He wanted this kind of power for himself. Sasuke was his ticket to get it.

Easier said than done. Teachers usually loved him, and not because he was a teacher's pet. He never simpered up to them. Boruto was just the de facto favorite because he was the best. He came to expect this kind of reaction, but from Sasuke he only received indifference.

Boruto wanted to win him over. It felt important Sasuke liked him—or was at the very least impressed with his abilities. With him there was no winning, though. It didn't matter how big he formed his rasengan, or how accurately he aimed his shuriken, or how fast he completed an assignment. A job well done was Sasuke's baseline expectation. Anything less was a disappointment. Going above and beyond meant Boruto only skirted the bottom of the high bar being set. The guy was totally impossible!

After another long day of busting his ass and barely getting recognition for it, Boruto sat sulking in the grass. They were winding down, sipping water as the sun cut low in the sky.

"Do you think you're special, Boruto?"

Sasuke usually didn't speak to him unless he was giving directions or deemed one of his questions was worth answering. He definitely never asked anything personal.

Brow furrowing, Boruto tried to figure out the angle. Sasuke tended to code his words, a new language he was only just learning to decipher. No one talked riddles in the academy. Most adults spoke to him like he was a dumb kid. At least this question seemed pretty straightforward.

"Well, I've always been stronger than the rest of my classmates… and people treat me differently because dad's the Hokage," Boruto muttered, tugging up grass as he puzzled out his answer. He watched Sasuke from the corner of his eye, searching for any reaction, some kind of hint he was going in the right direction. "So, I guess I sort of am. Yeah," he said with finality.

Sasuke snorted and took a long drink, then fixed him with a cold stare.

"You're not. Remember that."

That was how it always went. He was an ant and Sasuke a magnifying glass; Boruto withered under his glare.

One evening in the summer, he rolled into the house long after dark and made a beeline for the pantry. He was covered in dirt and needed a shower, but he was starving. His mother would kill him if she knew he wandered into the kitchen so dirty, but she had taken Himawari to the Hyuuga compound to see Aunt Hanabi for some kind of girl's night. Boruto took advantage of the good fortune.

"Mom left dinner for you."

He froze and dropped a box of crackers, shocked to find his dad actually home for once. Naruto reclined on a chair in the living room, grinning when Boruto finally noticed him. He looked exhausted. "You were out this late training with Sasuke, huh?"

Nodding, he ducked his head in the fridge to hide the scrapes on his face.

The rare occasions he interacted with his dad had become awkward. Something had changed between them in the past year. Boruto never knew what to say to fill the silences.

"How's it been going?"

"I like it."

He found his plate of food, unpeeled the plastic wrap from its top and popped it into the oven. While he waited for it to heat, he washed his hands. Mud and blood ran down the sink drain.

"He's a bit tough, isn't he?"

"I don't mind."

Boruto felt a little defensive of the newfound apprenticeship. He was improving every day. He was miles ahead of the other genin, with the exception of Sarada—and no surprise there. Sasuke was mean sometimes and wore him out during training, but he was there.

Naruto smiled fondly. "He's not very patient."

At least Sasuke spent time with him. Moments with his dad were like catching a glimpse of the full moon—once a month if he was lucky, and like tonight, only if he managed to time it right.

"Sasuke's a great teacher." He grabbed his food as the timer went off, kicking the oven door shut with the back of his foot. "He's already taught me a ton—more than I ever learned from you."

He slipped into the hallway and up the stairs to his room, not waiting for his dad's reaction. Let him be mad—it's not like anything Boruto said wasn't true.

Shortly after that, he learned what had made Sasuke so angry on their first day of training. A bit of slander between two of Konoha's clans. Sasuke had very little tolerance for that kind of behavior, even if it had nothing to do with his own clan. He had little tolerance for a lot of things. Boruto hated to admit it, but his dad had been right—Sasuke wasn't patient.

In his typical tunnel vision, he had taken the shortest distance possible to get to that ridiculous flyer, plowing through whatever lay between him and his goal—and whatever included Boruto. He had barely seen him that day when he walked up and bumped against his leg. It had not been reassuring to know Sasuke could discard him so effortlessly.

Boruto vowed to work harder. He refused to lose his attention.