A/N Everyone's miserable. POV ChoCho, Sasuke, Sarada, Shikadai, Boruto, Himawari


ChoCho didn't understand.

She didn't understand why no one was telling them anything. She didn't understand why Boruto was gone. She didn't understand why everyone was so tense. They were shinobi! A shinobi village, full of fighters and protectors and helpers. And yet… everything had been a mess for the last three days. Since… since Boruto's birthday.

It was Sarada's birthday tomorrow. March 31st. ChoCho thought Sarada had forgotten. Admittedly, ChoCho had, too, until the calendar notification had popped up on her phone. She'd hung around Sarada, expecting the girl to comment on what she wanted for her birthday. But all Sarada seemed able to focus on was Boruto. Shikadai was the same. And ChoCho hated it.

Shikadai looked awful. His Suna-tanned skin was pallid, and the dark circles under his eyes were worse than normal, and ChoCho knew from idle chatter between their moms that Shikadai was making himself sick with worry - he wasn't sleeping, vomiting through the night, and barely ate. ChoCho could remember how everyone used to joke that Boruto and Shikadai were codependent - ChoCho could see that now. Shikadai seemed to be pouring his every waking moment into trying to track down his friend. And every dead end seemed to send him spiralling even further. It was worrying, and ChoCho desperately wanted Boruto to show up, because if he was gone much longer, ChoCho couldn't bear to think about what it might do to Shikadai.

Sasuke was worried. The day before, he'd received Naruto's message. He could admit, he'd been hard for Naruto's poor summoning toad to find him, he'd been tracking down rogue Shinobi in the dead ends of Otogakure. He had been hiding away, after all, out of sight and counting down the days that he could go home for Sarada's 13th. The wretched thing cursed him, saying he'd never deliver again, and the scroll had shown up 24 hours after it was sent. Painfully long, for a message of such importance.

Naruto was used to trading messages with Naruto. It was a usual occurrence, with Naruto sending updates on Sarada, Sakura and the village, how Boruto was doing with his training, and the like. He never seemed to mind the short, simplistic replies he got in return.

That was why this particular scroll had stuck out. It had bore the Hokage's seal. Naruto had never done such a thing. It meant it was official. Even if Naruto had requests for Sasuke to complete missions, never the Hokage's seal. Something was wrong.

He'd skimmed through it - the top was all the official stuff he was required to put - a waste of ink. He skimmed to the bottom, where Naruto's illegible scrawl marked the words

Someone's taken my son.

The rogues could wait.

Shikadai felt terrible. He wasn't sleeping, and days and nights passed in a haze of aching pain. It felt wrong, Boruto being gone. Shikadai missed him, more than he could say. The empty space he left felt cavernous, and Shikadai desperately wanted it filled.

But he was forbidden from searching. Everything was wrong. His mom hadn't yelled at him once, when she usually would at least twice a day. But now she was gentle, soft spoken. She was treating him how she treated Boruto when he slept over.

Boruto.

It was all wrong. His dad too. He wasn't telling him off for eavesdropping, for snooping through the files in his office. He just gave him sympathetic looks, told him it was okay, hugged him.

And Shikadai hated it. His parents were teaching him like he was some sort of precious treasure, an old vase, like too much pressure and he'd crack. Into tiny little pieces, too many to ever be put back together the same ever again.

He slumped at the kitchen table, breakfast uneaten in front of him, staring at the water in his glass. He was dully aware of his dad putting a hand on his shoulder, telling him he needed to eat. His mom, asking him if he'd prefer something else. She never did that! What mom made was what he and dad would eat, even back when Shikadai was younger and mom wasn't the best cook, and the food was full of so much Suna spice it was inedible. She'd insisted. Yelled if they didn't eat it. It wasn't until Uncle Kankuro had told her "it's shit, Tem" that she'd improved it.

"Shikadai?"

That voice. Honey sweet, doting. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongwrong-

Shikadai didn't realise what he'd done until he heard the glass shatter. He'd thrown the glass at the counter, (thankfully not at his parents) and it had shattered against the cupboards. Water and glass littered the floor, and Shikadai was suddenly aware of how heavy his breathing was. His throat felt… sticky. It was hard to breathe. He felt like he was choking.

"Shikadai? Look at me. Look at me, Shikadai."

When he didn't move, his father took hold of the sides of his head, turning him to face him. His mother's hands were rubbing his shoulders. Why weren't they mad?

"Sh, look, breathe, Shikadai. It's okay. Breathe."

Shikadai gulped in breaths, his vision blurry. He kept in time with the rise and fall of his father's shoulders, until finally, it felt easier again. His vision cleared, and he stared at his dad, his mom moving round in front of him.

"I- I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay, Shikadai. You're going through a rough time, it's okay to struggle sometimes."

And then, before he could stop himself, he burst into tears

Sarada hadn't seen him. She should've.

She'd been sat by the river, on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling out over the water, watching the fish, ducks and leaves drift by. It was peaceful, and it meant she could ignore Boruto's absence. Alone, she could pretend everything was fine. That Boruto was at home, or with Shikadai. That everything was how it normally would be. No worries. No problems.

But you can only pretend for so long. And for Sarada, that had stopped when he appeared.

She hadn't seen him until he was right behind her. Heard him until he spoke. She was frustrated with herself for that, for being stupid and careless, for being too caught up in her own world to be aware of her surroundings.

"Sarada?"

"Papa?"

What was her papa doing here? He barely came home, only on special occasions, her birthday wasn't until- tomorrow. Oh. She'd been distracted by-

Boruto. That's why her papa was there. Early.

"You shouldn't be out on your own, Sarada. It's-"

"Dangerous? I'm aware. It's all anyone goes on about," she grumbled.

"Because they're correct. Boruto is just as capable of a Shinobi as yourself, and yet…" he trailed off, his intention clear.

Sarada pursed her lips. She and Boruto had sparred enough, and with a 50-50 win streak to each of them, she knew her papa was right. She glanced back up at him, and he gestured towards the village, before beginning to walk in that direction. Sarada hurried to catch up.

"So… you're here to help find Boruto?" She asked. No harm in seeing if she could make her papa tell her anything. Mama was tight lipped as ever, after all.

Her papa stared at her, brow raised. "You're not allowed to know, Sarada," he murmured.

Damn! "He's my friend, though!" She insisted.

"You're not allowed. It's dangerous." He replied simply.

"Well… can you at least tell me if you've found anything? Any… any leads?" Sarada asked tentatively.

Her papa glanced down at her again, with that same damn sympathetic glance she got off everyone. "No, Sarada. Nothing."

Three days. Three days and still not a thing.

It felt like a long time before Bastard returned. Boruto hadn't realised he'd been asleep until he jolted awake to the door slamming shut. For a second, he thought he was home. But then he felt the rope rubbing his skin, and the ongoing pain in his neck, and the feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of fear and a longing for home. Bastard walked over, and cut the rope of Boruto's arms, hauling him to his feet before returning to the kitchen in silence.

Boruto hissed, rubbing at his raw wrists, wishing he still had his long sleeves. Bastard had taken them with him when he'd left, and Boruto wondered what he'd done with them. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was five o'clock. Bastard had been gone four hours. Boruto hurried across the hall into the bathroom, relieving himself and taking a long glug of water. He was parched, and was painstakingly aware of the pain in his empty stomach.

He wondered how long he could last without food. He knew it was around a month, right? But before he could debate any longer, he was overwhelmed by a sickening feeling in his stomach, and in an instant he was leaned over the toilet, vomiting bile. It made his throat hurt horribly, and he hated being sick. His hands gripped the sides of the toilet, and he was shaking. He didn't think he'd ever felt so awful before.

His thought of misery were interrupted by the door opening, and Bastard was stood there. He braced himself, but instead Bastard took him gently by the arm, leading him into the kitchen. He sat him down at the table, and reached into the bag sat on top. He pulled out a small pill box, placing it down in front of Boruto.

"Take two each day. For your neck."

Boruto stared at them for a moment, before reaching for them. He scanned the box, checking if they were actually painkillers, hoping there was a chemists label that could tell him where he was. The pills seemed legit, but there was no label, it was branded. Disappointing. He opened it, shaking the little plastic and foil tray out. He stared at it for a moment, checking it hadn't been tampered with. He didn't want to let Bastard drug him. Satisfied, he popped two of them out, tossing them in his mouth and taking a sip of the proffered cup of water.

"Only little bits of water, Rabbit," Bastard said soothingly. "Drinking too much too quickly on an empty stomach will make you sick."

Boruto nodded, putting the cup back down on the table. Why was he being so nice? It felt strange. But… it was…

Nice.

Himawari was worried. Boruto would go on missions sometimes, so him being away from the house for periods of time wasn't unusual. But he wasn't supposed to have any missions, and it had been his birthday weekend! Or, it had been. His birthday was Friday, and it was Monday now. Himawari didn't know where her brother was, and no one would tell her. Mama and daddy weren't letting her leave the house without them, and since daddy was working even more than normal and mama didn't seem to want to go out, she couldn't leave. Even Auntie Hanabi wouldn't take her out, cause she was on too many missions.

Himawari also missed Miss Cat. She was Himawari's obligatory ANBU guard, who was always there, just out of sight. But if Himawari called for her she'd sometimes come. She always wore her cat mask, but they'd talk. She was very nice. But Miss Cat was gone now. Instead it was new people. Himawari couldn't see them but she knew they were there. They weren't as nice as Miss Cat, they didn't come and talk to her.

When mama and daddy tucked her in at night, her daddy always double checked her window was locked. Himawari had asked him if she could keep it open - it was hot for March. But he'd said no, that it was too dangerous. Why was it dangerous to keep her window open? She always did before.

She knew they weren't telling her something. She knew it was to do with Boruto. She knew something was wrong. She knew Boruto wasn't on a mission.

But she didn't know why. Why he was gone. Why no one would tell her anything. Why Miss Cat was gone. Why she couldn't open her window. Why she couldn't leave the house. Why. Why.

Why.


2k words! Longest ever! Lots of first time POVs for some characters. Any requests, just let me know!