The mission continued in dead silence.

Konohamaru could see how worried they all were. They were completing the mission, doing their job, but it was silent. They were all twelve year olds, for god's sake. They chattered, joked, laughed, barely focused. But now the mission seemed to be all they thought about. Talked about. Konohamaru knew why. No one wanted to focus on the other thing outside of the job. Boruto. Still missing. Konohamaru gritted his teeth. He missed the kid, he really did. The kid who called him Big Brother Konohamaru, who'd follow him around from the moment he could walk. Konohamaru had only been fifteen when Boruto was born, but he'd clung to that kid from the start. It felt… wrong, him not being around. He glanced at Hanabi from the corner of his eye. She looked shattered. He didn't blame her. She'd been out all night searching for Boruto, missed their night out because of it. Konohamaru remembered waiting at the bar, thinking he'd been stood up. That is, until he'd gotten a frantic call off Naruto, saying Boruto was missing. At that moment, Konohamaru had wished he'd been stood up. Anything but that.

He pulled at the scarf around his neck, swiping some of the rain off his forehead. It was still raining. Hadn't stopped for the last two days. It was frustrating. The rain had washed away what little evidence there might've been. Konohamaru just wanted Boruto home. Safe. He stared at Moegi, wondering if she really believed what she'd said earlier.

"He'll be back by the end of the week, trust me."

It was quiet, in the Uzumaki home.

And Hinata hated it.

It was wrong. She was used to the noise, her, Naruto and Himawari were all home - yet the silence was suffocating. No thundering footsteps across the landing, no slamming doors, no laughter or yelling. Just silence, interrupted only by the scratching of Himawari's pencils on notebook paper from the kitchen table, and Naruto's restless pacing. Hinata stared out the window, watching the rain dribble down the glass. She shut her eyes, trying to imagine it was still that night. That it was still Boruto's birthday, and he was still here. Upset, and waiting, but safe.

Safe. And. Sound.

She turned back to her daughter and husband. They hadn't let Himawari out of their sight. If it was against Naruto's standing as Hokage, there was no saying whether anyone might go after Himawari. Her daughter sat peacefully at the table, colouring in a drawing of a field of flowers.

She glanced at her husband. She wanted so desperately to blame him. Yell at him, that he should've come on time, that if he did Boruto wouldn't have left. But whenever she wanted to, she couldn't. She wasn't angry at him. She wasn't sure why. Naruto paced back and forth, flipping through a file, his coffee abandoned and cold on the counter. Dark circles marred his eyes, which were bloodshot. Likely similar to her own.

She stared at her cup of black tea, left on the side. She tended to prefer Jasmine, but she'd always drink it with Boruto, so she decided to save it.

For when he's back, she'd said.

'If, he's back', a little voice said in the back of her head.

Shut up. Shutupshutupshutupshutupshut-

"Hinata?"

She jumped, and turned around to see Naruto staring at her worriedly. "Yes?"

"Are you okay? You've seemed a little…" he trailed off, staring at the floor.

Hinata didn't answer. They both knew, anyway. Asking was just a courtesy. "Have they found anything yet?" Good plan. Change the subject.

Naruto noticed. "Nothing since the jacket," he murmured.

Hinata made a small noise of acknowledgement. She then noticed the sound of pencils had stopped, and glanced at the table. Himawari was watching them.

"Why are you fighting?" She sniffled.

Naruto was at her side in an instant. "We're not fighting sweetheart, I promise. Mom and dad are just worried about Boruto."

"When's he coming home?" Himawari asked, quiet as a mouse.

"Soon, Hima. Don't worry," Naruto reassured her.

Hinata hoped he was right.

Boruto slumped, dazed, against the kitchen cupboards. He'd… underestimated Bastard's abilities. He stared up at the man, who was looking down at him with such coldness Boruto could feel it reaching down his spine. There was the barest, shallowest cut on his neck from the glass.

He'd failed.

Bastard reached forward, grabbing Boruto by the collar of his shirt and jerking him forwards. "I thought we had a deal, Rabbit. You did as I asked. Respected me. This?" He held up the shard, with the faintest trickle of blood on the tip. "This is not respectful, Rabbit. You disobeyed me."

If such a thing had come from anyone else, Boruto would've laughed in their face. His dad? Konohamaru, the elders? He'd have ignored them. But this guy? The look in his eye, how tense he was, the muscles clenching in his arms. Boruto shrunk down into himself, breathing rapidly through his nose. He was scared. Scared of someone. That had never happened before. It felt wrong. He wanted to go home. He hated it here. He was scared.

Bastard stepped forward, crouching down in front of Boruto. "I warned you, Rabbit, that disobeying would result in punishment. Do you remember?" Boruto didn't, but he quickly nodded nonetheless. "Good. Then you understand why I am doing this, yes?"

Doing what? What did he mean?

But Boruto didn't get the chance to ask. Or guess. Or move. Because before he could do a thing, Bastard's hands were wrapped around his throat. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. But it was painful. His hands shot up, pulling at the grip tightening around his neck. Bastard dragged him off from leaning against the counter, and within seconds Boruto was on the floor, Bastard on top of him, squeezing the life out of his lungs.

"P-please…" his voice was barely even a choked whisper. Forcing the words from his throat hurt, but he had to get them out.

But Bastard's grip tightened. Black spots started forming in his vision, and as Bastard's grip tightened further, Boruto's scrabbling hands weakened, it felt like his fingers were just brushing against Bastard's hands.

It took longer than Boruto thought it would. Agonisingly long. He didn't pass out, just staying conscious in a haze of suffocating pain. Just as he felt himself about to slip into the sweet relief of unconsciousness, the grip loosened.

Boruto sucked in a gasp of air, oxygen having never tasted so sweet. His throat burned, every breath making his throat ache. He rolled onto his side, coughing and curling into himself. Bastard loomed over him, staring down with no sympathy, no pity, no remorse, or regret. There was nothing in his eyes. Just cold, harsh blankness, boring into Boruto. Then he leaned down, grabbing Boruto by the arm and dragging him down the hall to the tiny room. He opened the door, and practically threw Boruto inside. Still of balance and out of breath, Boruto stumbled, crashing to the ground. He heard the door close and the lock click shut behind him. Boruto dragged himself to his feet, glancing around. It was a makeshift bedroom. There was a small mattress in the corner, with a thin blanket, and a small pillow. A tiny stream of light stretched in from under the door, illuminating a bricked up window. There was a tiny chest of drawers and a chair, with a little lamp sat on top. Boruto walked over and switched it on. There was a bag sat on the chair, and emptying it Boruto found a pair of thin pyjamas and a change of clothes. Thin white sleep shirt and shorts, followed by a black T shirt and tracksuit bottoms and a hooded jacket. He pulled the pyjamas on, and fell back onto the mattress. He didn't want to turn the light off. He didn't want to be alone in the dark. So he didn't. He turned and stared at the lamp (because it hurt too much to stare at the locked door or the boarded up window), until he finally drifted off to sleep.

He jolted awake the next morning with an overwhelming urge for water. His throat hurt something fierce, and every breath and swallow ached. He pushed himself up, glancing around the barren room. The lamp remained the only light, only the smallest hint coming in from under the door. There wasn't any water. No bottle, or tap, or sink. Nothing.

Which meant he had to leave.

He didn't want to. He was scared at the prospect of facing Bastard again. What if the door was still locked? Would he have to knock, and ask Bastard to let him out? His hand closed around the doorknob, and he slowly twisted it, begging it to be open, begging it to be silent. It turned, and, thankfully, silently. He pushed it open, peeking outside. He could see Bastard, in the kitchen again. So Boruto slunk outside, zipping across to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, realising with a sigh there was no lock. Keeping his eyes locked on the door, ears straining, he cleaned himself up, splashing water on his face, and drinking his fill. But when he glanced up at his reflection in the mirror, he froze.

He looked awful.

Dark raccoon circles around his eyes, which were red rimmed (when had he been crying?) and bloodshot. He was paler than he'd ever seen himself, his usual healthy tan replaced with a greyish tinge. But worst were the bruises. His neck was covered with them, in the clear shape of Bastard's hands, a mix of discoloured red and bluish purple. He reached up, touching it, and flinched. It hurt.

"Rabbit?"

Boruto froze. He spun to the door just as it opened, revealing Bastard. They locked eyes for a moment, then Bastard smirked.

"You're awake, then? Good. I need to go out. Come. Quickly."

Boruto followed him before he even realised what Bastard had said, and it infuriated him. He was being treated like a dog, following its master around. He gritted his teeth. He'd learned from last night. He had to be careful. They reached the kitchen, and Boruto was handed another cup of water. Still no food. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He drank a little more, and then the glass was taken off him.

"Now, Rabbit. I have to leave, and your behaviour yesterday has proven you untrustworthy. However, you may have some choice. I am going to tie you up when I leave, but you may decide where. If you do not choose, or fight me, i will leave you tied and gagged in the closet. It's up to you."

Boruto stared at him for a moment. He was going to leave him alone? Wasn't that risky? But he'd take his chances. He didn't want to end up in the closet again. "The sofa?"

Bastard nodded, and Boruto followed him into the living room. Bastard retuned with a length of rope, and quickly unwrapped it. "Hands."

Boruto pursed his lips, but held them out.

"Behind, Rabbit."

Bastard tied his wrists behind his back, tying rope around his shoulders as well. Bastard tied a length on rope around his waist, attaching his wrists to it in a makeshift straitjacket. Bastard tugged on his wrists, and when satisfied they didn't move, switched to his legs, tying them at the ankles and the knees. Then he helped Boruto lay down on the sofa. It was uncomfortable, his arms being stuck behind him.

"I'll be back in an hour, Rabbit. Behave."

And with that, Bastard left, turning off the lights behind him. And with the blackout blinds covering all the windows, Boruto was left, completely alone, in the middle of the day in the dark.