AN: So the pairings in this story... they are unconventional to say the least. I like unconventional shit lol! If by chance you don't like it please don't take it too much to heart because every connection that you see form in this story has a specific purpose in developing certain characters and the plot. I'm genuinely unbiased in this aspect at least when it comes to the Boruto characters. But also this whole segment with Sarada and Boruto's friends is building up to some major shit that is about to go down. The black whole that is Naruto and Sasuke's 20 yr long affair is about to rear it's ugly head. And well, Its really bout to get wild after this chapter.
ch11
The night air wrapped around Sarada like a cool blanket, making her shiver as she took another puff from Shikadai's joint. "Is it always this cold here at night?" she asked, her voice slightly raspy from the smoke.
"Unfortunately," Shikadai replied, leaning back on his hands, his body language relaxed and at ease. The rooftop they had climbed to, secluded and accessible only from the VIP balcony, offered them a perfect view of the coast. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
Sarada took in the view, feeling the warmth of the marijuana slowly spreading through her body, easing the tension in her muscles. "I like this," she commented, her voice soft as she let the joint dangle between her fingers. "Maybe I'm a stoner too," she mused, holding out her hand for Shikadai to pass the joint back to her.
Shikadai chuckled, handing it over with a grin. "Maybe you are."
Sarada inhaled deeply, the smoke filling her lungs as she exhaled slowly, watching it dissipate into the night sky. Her thoughts, usually so tightly wound and guarded, began to loosen, and she found herself feeling more talkative than usual. "So, tell me, Shikadai," she began, her curiosity piqued. "Why LA?...Santa Monica?…California? What brought you and Boruto all the way out here to the West Coast, so far from your families?"
Shikadai tilted his head, considering her question. "Well, if I'm being honest, I had no intention of coming out here. It was Boruto who was set on leaving Chicago, and me, being the loyal friend that I am, just went along with it. And truthfully, I don't regret it. California's not my favorite place, but it's been good for us. After we graduate, though, I'm definitely heading back home. Unless Boruto somehow convinces me to move with him to Europe," he added with a wry smile.
"Wow, you guys are that close," Sarada said, raising an eyebrow.
"He's like a brother to me," Shikadai admitted, his tone softening. "Growing up, my dad kind of became a father figure to Boruto. His dad and my dad were best friends in high school, but they drifted apart after they graduated... or after Mr. Uzumaki met—"
"My dad," Sarada finished, the realization sinking in.
Shikadai nodded. "Yeah. But you know, I think Boruto's always been trying to connect with his dad in some way. Even though he resents him, he subconsciously does these things to feel closer to him—like going to school out here because Naruto went to college nearby. It's like he's always searching for that connection, even if he doesn't realize it."
Sarada sighed, exhaling another puff of smoke. "I get that. But I don't think my dad and I will ever connect on anything," she added, her eyes following the smoke rings Shikadai blew into the air.
"Why's that?" Shikadai asked, his gaze turning more focused as he studied her expression.
Sarada paused, her thoughts swirling along with the haze of the marijuana. "My dad... he's just—he's so distant. Not just physically, but emotionally. Sure, Mr. Uzumaki might not always be around, but when he is, he tries. He really tries to build a bond with his family. My dad... he just buys us things. He's great at making sure my mom and I have everything we could ever want, but that's all it is—stuff. It's like he thinks material things can replace his presence."
She took another deep breath, the memory of her sixteenth birthday surfacing in her mind. "For example, on my sixteenth birthday, my mom and I decided not to have a huge celebration because my dad had promised to take us on a family trip to Japan. We were going to visit his hometown, go to Tokyo Disneyland... you know, all the touristy stuff. But the night before we were supposed to leave, my dad got called away on some 'emergency'. I didn't know, so when I woke up, all excited and ready to go, our chauffeur didn't take us to the airport. Instead, I was taken to this stupid venue where I was surprised with an extravagant sweet 16 bash."
Shikadai listened intently, his expression thoughtful. "Hmm… I'm not sure that's something to complain about," he chuckled softly. "I mean, it sounds like a pretty cool move on your dad's part."
Sarada shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "That's what most people assume. But here's the kicker—not only was my dad not at the party, but in his place, was a spanking new Audi. And the trip to Tokyo? It was actually supposed to happen, but because my dad was called in to work, it was canceled at the last minute. My dad basically paid all my friends to throw me a party. He forced them to cancel their own plans just so they could spend time with me on my birthday—as if that could make up for him not being there himself."
Shikadai's casual demeanor shifted, his face growing more serious. "Yeah, that's totally messed up."
"It's crazy to me how some people just don't understand the power of human connection," Sarada continued, her voice tinged with sadness. "I would give anything—literally anything—to have one real, genuinely happy memory of me, my mom, and my dad spending time together."
Shikadai handed her the joint again, his movements slow and deliberate. "I get that," he said quietly. "Sometimes, people think they're doing the right thing by giving you what they think you want, but they miss the point entirely."
Sarada accepted the joint, taking a deep drag before exhaling slowly. "Thanks," she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I was getting a little worked up there. Almost completely ruined the vibe."
"Nah, you're good," Shikadai reassured her, his tone lightening. "Sometimes you just gotta get it out. And fortunately for you, I'm a pro at active listening—especially when I'm high."
Sarada smiled, feeling a strange sense of comfort in Shikadai's presence. "What about you, Shikadai? What's your family dynamic like?"
Shikadai shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "My mom and dad fight a lot, but honestly, I think fighting is their love language."
Sarada raised an eyebrow, amused. "That's... weird."
"Yeah, well, my dad's a lazy bastard," Shikadai admitted with a laugh. "Smart as hell, but completely useless unless my mom lights a fire under his ass."
Sarada couldn't help but laugh at that, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the joint they were sharing. "Let me guess—you take after your dad?"
"Oh, completely. I'm quite literally a carbon copy," Shikadai grinned, clearly unbothered by the comparison.
"That makes sense," Sarada nodded, her body feeling lighter as the tension continued to melt away.
"How are you feeling now?" Shikadai asked, leaning in slightly, his eyes scanning her face.
"Better," Sarada admitted, her voice soft but sure.
"Wanna go inside and hit the dance floor?" Shikadai suggested, his tone playful.
Sarada sat up, a spark of excitement igniting within her. "Are you serious?"
"Why not?" Shikadai grinned, his relaxed demeanor infectious.
"The drugs must be seriously kicking in," Sarada laughed, feeling a sudden burst of energy and confidence.
"That's usually how it goes," Shikadai agreed, standing up and offering her a hand.
Sarada, now fully influenced by the THC and feeling a newfound sense of freedom, decided she wanted to dance too. "Let's go!" she declared, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. Together, they made their way back inside, ready to embrace the night and whatever it had in store for them.
…
The club pulsed with energy, a living, breathing entity of its own, bathed in the flickering lights that reflected off every surface like a kaleidoscope. The music was a throbbing beat that seemed to sync with the very heartbeat of the city. The air was thick with a mix of sweat, perfume, and the faint scent of smoke from the joints being passed around. Sarada felt the bass vibrating through her body as she and Shikadai weaved their way through the crowd, her hand firmly gripping his as they navigated the dance floor.
"Well, well, well, look who decided to finally join in on the fun," Inojin's voice cut through the haze, dripping with its usual snark. His grin was wide, his eyes hazy from the drinks he'd downed, and he was flanked by two girls, the third from earlier now mysteriously absent.
Sarada halted in her tracks, rolling her eyes at her childhood friend's antics. A mischievous smirk spread across her lips as she turned to Shikadai. Without warning, she grabbed him by the neck, pulling him close, her body moving with deliberate slowness. She let the music guide her, rolling her hips in a sultry rhythm that pressed her body provocatively against his.
Inojin's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock. He hadn't seen this side of Sarada since two Christmases ago when she'd drunk herself into oblivion and provoked ChoCho into what had now become her longest-running relationship. He fumbled for his phone, realizing this was a moment that needed to be documented. No one would believe him otherwise.
As he finally got his phone out, a dirty rap song blasted through the speakers, the bass so heavy it felt like it was rattling the bones in everyone's chest. Sarada, recognizing the song, immediately spun Shikadai around, grabbing his waist and playfully forcing him to twerk against her. The crowd around them cheered, egging them on as the two moved together, the scene a perfect storm of wild, carefree energy.
"Holy shit, is that my best friend?" came an obnoxiously loud squeal. Just as the DJ began mixing another track, ChoCho appeared, her hair slightly disheveled, with two shots in her hands. A tousled Boruto trailed behind her, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
"ChoCho!" Sarada squealed back, breaking away from Shikadai to throw her arms around her best friend's shoulders.
"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you!" ChoCho cooed, genuinely delighted that Sarada had finally decided to let loose. She studied Sarada's face, noticing the telltale signs of glossy eyes reflecting the strobe lights. "Are you stoned?" she asked, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin.
"Yup!" she replied, unabashed, her voice loud and carefree, which only made ChoCho burst into laughter.
"Here, have one of these," ChoCho said, offering her one of the double shot glasses.
"Don't mind if I do," Sarada grinned, taking both glasses from her friend and downing them in quick succession. She lifted her arms in the air, the alcohol mixing with the marijuana; the shot glasses falling to the floor, and let out a gleeful shout. "Dance with me, ChoCho!" she commanded, her voice buzzing with energy.
"What did you do to her, Shikadai?" Boruto asked as he watched the two girls jump together to the music, their moves becoming more outrageous with each beat.
"I just gave her a hit of one of my best strands, and we talked for a little bit. She got some things off her chest, and now, well, we got this," Shikadai replied, fanning his hand toward the dancing girls with a satisfied grin.
Boruto watched his best friend, then turned his gaze to the Uchiha girl who was now completely letting go, her movements uninhibited. "You've got a week," he finally said, nudging Shikadai in the side.
Shikadai rolled his eyes, "It's not that deep, bro."
"Sure it isn't," Boruto smirked, though there was a glint of something in his eyes, a hint of the possibilities he saw.
The crowd around them grew thicker as more people noticed the wild energy radiating from Sarada and ChoCho. The girls had started with girlish squeals and carefree jumps, but now they were putting on a show that had the entire floor watching. ChoCho grabbed Sarada by the hips, pulling her close as they grinded to the sensual rhythm of the R&B track that now filled the club. ChoCho made sure to show off Sarada's skin, pulling up on the slits of her dress, while Sarada ran her hands over her chest, moving to the music as if she was one with it.
Inojin, still with his phone out, couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. He recorded every second, completely ignoring the two girls he had charmed at the bar earlier.
"Should I stop this?" Boruto asked, his hand grabbing the front of Shikadai's shirt, but his eyes were still glued to the lewd dance being performed before him.
"Absolutely not," Shikadai replied, completely enthralled by the spectacle.
It wasn't until Mitsuki appeared on the dance floor, his arm around two frat boys' shoulders, that everyone's attention briefly turned from the girls. His presence was like a new wave of chaos added to the already exuberant night.
"What is this?" Mitsuki crooned, his eyes lighting up as he noticed Sarada and ChoCho putting on their indecorous show. A crazed grin spread across his face, and without a second thought, he shoved his frat boy companions aside and grabbed Shikadai's wrist.
"Put that away!" he yelled at Inojin, referring to the phone. "How dare you let the wenches outshine you like this. Last I checked, you were the sexiest bastard in the club, not these Midwestern hoes."
Inojin blinked, at a loss for words, but before he could react, Mitsuki had already pulled him further onto the dance floor, right next to where Sarada and ChoCho were grinding. Mitsuki began to copy their movements with a playful but intense focus.
"What the fuck, dude," Inojin snapped, but Mitsuki was relentless. He pulled Inojin into his chest, and despite himself, Inojin couldn't resist the hilarity of the moment. He wrapped his arms around Mitsuki's waist, joining him in a dance that was sure to be the source of endless jokes later, but for now, it was just plain fun.
"I swear, you guys can never let us have our moment," Sarada complained, watching her two guy friends outshine them, garnering the attention of half the club's female patrons.
"I mean, it's kinda hot," ChoCho shrugged, still holding Sarada close. Then, with a sly grin, she added, "So, you and Shikadai?" Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively, causing Sarada to flush.
"I don't think so, ChoCho. He's a cool guy, though. I'll give him that."
"Just think about it, Sarada—two best friends dating two best friends. It's absolutely perfect."
"Yeah, I know," Sarada sighed, her voice a little softer, a little more introspective.
"Damn, girl, you're totally plastered!"
"Yeah, I know," Sarada repeated, this time with a laugh that felt a bit freer, a bit lighter.
ChoCho burst out laughing again, her joy infectious. Sarada joined in, the two of them caught up in a moment that felt endless and electric, the kind of night that would be remembered for its pure, unfiltered fun.
The energy in the club was still buzzing as Boruto leaned in close to speak over the pounding music, his voice barely cutting through the thick bass. "You guys, I think it might be time to head back to the apartment," he suggested, his tone light but insistent. "It's almost 1:30, and the drive back to Santa Monica is like thirty minutes."
"What? It's time to go already? I was just beginning to have fun!" Sarada whined, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout, her bottom lip jutting out adorably. The pouty look only added to her charm, and it was clear she was reluctant to end the night so soon.
"We can hang out more at the apartment," Shikadai offered, his laid-back demeanor calming Sarada instantly. "I know some interesting card games we can all play when we get back."
Sarada's eyes brightened at the idea, her pout quickly replaced with an excited grin. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.
"Yeah," Shikadai confirmed, his smile mirroring hers, both soft and endearing.
Boruto exchanged a knowing glance with ChoCho, raising an eyebrow in silent communication. Before ChoCho could tease them, Boruto gently grabbed her hand, pulling her closer and whispering in her ear, "Just let it be for now."
ChoCho grinned mischievously, but Boruto quickly redirected her attention. "By the way," he added, and pointed towards Shikadai and Mitsuki, who were a few feet away, seemingly lost in a clumsy, drunken make-out session. "You might want to shut that down."
"What the hell is happening?" Sarada blurted out, her face a mix of horror and disbelief as she pointed at the two boys.
ChoCho was recklessly quick to pull out her phone and record the moment. "Yup, it's definitely time to go," Shikadai grimaced. He was amused by the chaos but fully aware that things were spiraling out of control.
Sarada and Shikadai began making their way toward the exit, Sarada still in a mild state of shock, while ChoCho followed closely behind, her laughter mingling with the pounding music. "I'll let you handle that, babe," she said to Boruto, patting his back before leaving him to corral their drunken friends.
"They're your friends," Boruto grumbled good-naturedly as he approached Inojin and Mitsuki, who were now laughing and chatting with a small group of equally inebriated girls.
…
The ride back to the apartment was far from peaceful. Inojin, still reeling from the embarrassment of the night's events, was making a drunken attempt to climb over the seats of the Uber van to snatch away ChoCho's phone. "DELETE IT NOW!" he yelled, his voice slurred and panicked.
Minutes earlier, ChoCho had silently dangled her phone in front of Inojin's face, showing him an edited clip of the now-infamous kiss between him and Mitsuki. Mitsuki had sheepishly explained that they only did it because two girls had dared them in exchange for their phone numbers. Mitsuki, who had never gotten a number before, was desperate, and with both of them being far too drunk to think clearly, they'd gone along with the ridiculous plan.
"Bro, chill," Boruto intervened, trying to keep the peace. "I'll make sure she deletes it, but to be fair, you shouldn't have gotten so drunk that you'd be okay with kissing your best friend. I mean, no chick would ever be hot enough to make me thrust my tongue down Shikadai's throat."
"I take great offense to that," Shikadai chimed in, feigning hurt but clearly entertained by the whole situation.
Sarada, who had been watching the scene unfold with tears of laughter streaming down her face, couldn't contain herself. She doubled over, holding her stomach as she laughed uncontrollably at the sight of Inojin's humiliation.
The Uber driver, less than amused by the antics in his backseat, glared at Inojin through the rearview mirror. "Sir, I'm gonna need you to sit down, or else you're gonna have to get out!" he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
Inojin finally obliged, slumping back into his seat with a defeated glare at Mitsuki, who had passed out moments earlier, his cheek pressed against the window and his body slumped in an awkward, uncomfortable position.
"I think i'm going to be sick," Inojin declared, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as if that would erase the memories.
"Just don't throw up on my furniture when we get back" Boruto replied, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
…
When they finally stumbled back into the apartment, it felt like the disastrous final act of a wild college comedy, where everything that could go wrong did. Mitsuki and Inojin, teetering on the edge of consciousness, were practically carried inside by Boruto and Shikadai, both of them laughing at their friends' state. Inojin, still determined to drown out the night's embarrassment, beelined for the couch, where he collapsed face-first into the cushions with a loud, exaggerated groan before promptly passing out. Mitsuki, half-asleep and barely functioning, flopped down beside him with his legs dangling off the edge, letting out a contented sigh as if the couch was the most comfortable place in the world. purses were thrown haphazardly over chairs, shoes were kicked off with careless abandon, and their drunken laughter echoed through the apartment like the offbeat soundtrack of a night that had spiraled gloriously out of control.
Boruto let out a long breath, shaking his head at the sight of his two new acquaintances passed out on the couch. "Well, that's one way to end the night," he muttered before turning to the others. "You guys want to hang out in my room for a bit? Play some cards or something?"
"Sure," ChoCho answered quickly, her eyes lighting up at the idea of prolonging the fun. Sarada nodded in agreement, still riding the high of the night's events.
Boruto's room was a reflection of his laid-back, yet cheeky personality. The walls were covered in posters of bands, anime, and a few framed photographs. His bed was unmade, a mix of rumpled blankets and pillows tossed haphazardly across it. A small desk sat in the corner, cluttered with textbooks, game controllers, and various knick-knacks. The soft glow of string lights draped along the walls added a warm, cozy ambiance to the space.
The four of them settled on the floor, Boruto pulling out a deck of cards from a drawer beside his bed. They started with a simple game of War, the cards slapping against the floor in rhythm with their laughter. As the night wore on, the games grew sillier, transitioning to rounds of Bullshit that had them all accusing each other of cheating, their faces flushed with laughter.
Sarada, sitting next to Shikadai, felt the lingering effects of the marijuana mixing with the warmth of the room and the easy companionship of her friends. She was more relaxed than she'd been in a long time, her usual guard lowered. But as the clock crept closer to dawn, the energy in the room began to wane. The conversations grew softer, their laughter quieter as fatigue started to settle in. Shikadai caught Sarada's eye, and they shared a small, knowing smile, both aware of the subtle tension but choosing not to act on it. Not tonight.
"Alright, I think I'm gonna head to bed," Shikadai finally said, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a yawn. He got to his feet, offering Sarada a hand to help her up.
"Yeah, me too," Sarada agreed, taking his hand and rising to her feet. They exchanged another brief smile, something warm and tentative passing between them.
"Goodnight, you two," Boruto called from his spot on the floor, his voice drowsy.
"Night," ChoCho added, already curling up on Boruto's bed, making it clear she intended to stay there.
Sarada and Shikadai exchanged one last look before heading to their respective rooms. There was an odd tension between them, something that had grown quietly throughout the night, but they didn't acknowledge it directly. As Sarada closed the door to her room, she let out a slow breath, her mind still buzzing from the night's events. It had been a fun, chaotic night, full of unexpected moments and lingering emotions. She slipped into bed, the warmth of the blankets enveloping her as she stared at the ceiling, her mind for once, blissfully free from thoughts.
In Boruto's room, the atmosphere was calm yet thick with unspoken emotions. ChoCho curled up beside Boruto, resting her head on his shoulder as the distant hum of the city droned on outside the window. The room's faint glow from the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls. Boruto's arm rested around her waist, their bodies sinking into the mattress in unison. There was a peace in the silence, but also an unspoken tension.
ChoCho broke the quiet, her voice gentle yet carrying a weight of curiosity. "Boruto," she began, her fingers tracing small, absentminded circles on his chest, "can I ask you something?"
Boruto, his eyes half-closed and his breathing steady, responded without opening them. "What's up, babe?"
"What's the deal between you and your dad?"
Boruto's brows furrowed slightly, but he kept his eyes closed. "Hmm? What do you mean?"
"Are you two close?" Her voice softened further as if afraid of prying too deeply.
Boruto sighed, feeling the question tug at something inside him. He was tired—too tired for this conversation—but maybe that's why the words came easier. The weariness, combined with the lingering buzz from Shikadai's 'special strand,' loosened his tongue. "Not particularly," he admitted quietly, the truth rolling off his lips.
ChoCho shifted, her hand still resting on his chest, but now her full attention was on him. "How come?"
"I don't know," Boruto answered with a touch of frustration in his tone. "He's a workaholic. And a little too obsessed with his… 'working partner.'"
"You mean Mr. Uchiha?" ChoCho asked, her eyebrows raising in curiosity.
"Yeah. They're battle bros, or whatever you call men who've killed other men together."
ChoCho's eyes widened in surprise, and she sat up a bit. "Your dad kills people?"
Boruto couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking his head. "The fuck if I know. Maybe. But Mr. Uchiha? Definitely. That guy's seen some shit."
ChoCho blinked, trying to reconcile the image of Naruto with what Boruto was saying. "It's just hard for me to picture your dad like that. He's so…"
"Nice?" Boruto finished for her. "Yeah, he's good at making people think he's just an upstanding parental figure."
ChoCho didn't say anything for a moment, just waited for him to continue, sensing there was more beneath the surface.
Boruto shifted again, lying flat on his back, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. ChoCho mirrored him, their heads close together as they stared upwards, both lost in thought.
"He was never around, ChoCho," Boruto said, his voice quieter now. "He was full of empty promises—claiming one thing but never following through. Then he'd show up randomly, acting like he hadn't missed my basketball championship or my sister's piano recital. Deep down, I know he loves us. I know he loves our family, but… sometimes, I hate him. I hate him for just… missing everything."
ChoCho remained silent, giving him the space to express what he had buried inside. She could hear the pain in his voice, the conflict between love and resentment.
"Am I wrong for that?" Boruto finally asked, his voice almost a whisper. He turned his head to look at ChoCho, seeking validation in her eyes.
She sighed softly, her gaze never leaving the ceiling. "No," she answered after a beat. "You're not."
"So then… what do I do? I can't keep feeling this way about him."
ChoCho shifted onto her side to face him, her hand now resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths. "I don't think you hate your dad," she said thoughtfully. "I think you love him so much that it hurts. To the point where you wish it was hate. Because hate would be easier."
Boruto swallowed hard, her words sinking in deep. She had hit the nail on the head, and he didn't know how to respond. The silence between them grew heavier, the weight of their shared understanding pressing down on the room.
Just as the quiet began to settle again, there was a soft creak. Boruto's bedroom door slowly swung open, and a figure stepped into the dimly lit room.
Boruto's eyes snapped open, his body tensing slightly. ChoCho turned her head toward the door, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to make out the shadowed figure standing in the doorway.
"Yo, who's the random chick in my bed?" came a deep, familiar voice.
Boruto sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. "Kawaki?" he mumbled. "I thought you were gonna be gone this week."
The figure stepped further into the light, revealing Kawaki's face, his expression unreadable. Boruto stared at him in confusion, blinking away the remnants of sleep.
"Why are you home?" Boruto asked, his voice laced with both surprise and concern. But Kawaki didn't answer, leaving the question hanging heavily in the air as the room was swallowed back into silence.