We're Different. | The Other Uchiha ✓ (Boruto)

Begin After

The sun had only just begun to cast its early hues over the village rooftops, painting Konoha in soft golds and sleepy purples. 

In the quiet stillness of morning, the apartment felt colder than usual, not in temperature, but in presence.

Y/n stood in the middle of the living room, a half-folded blanket in her hands, staring at the low table where breakfast used to sit every morning, right across from Mitsuki's unbothered, serene face.

There had been a time when the silence in this space comforted her. Now it echoed too much. Like something had changed, and she couldn't pretend it hadn't.

Boxes were stacked neatly by the door. Some half-filled, some already closed.

She'd started packing without even realising. A week ago, she would've felt guilty. 

She would've worried about Mitsuki's expression, what it would mean to leave this shared life behind, but not today. 

Not because she cared any less. If anything, she cared more.

The door creaked open behind her.

"I'm home," Mitsuki announced, his voice soft and usual.

Y/n didn't turn right away. She just nodded, folding the blanket once more before placing it gently on the armrest. "Welcome back."

Mitsuki's footsteps paused. There was a long moment of silence, as he took in the half-empty room.

"...What's all this?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the boxes, the missing frames from the wall, the odd emptiness where her books used to be.

She finally turned to face him.

"I'm moving out," she said. Not sharply. Not dramatically. Just the truth, placed softly between them.

Mitsuki didn't speak at first. He looked at her, blinking once, as if maybe he had misheard. Or hoped he had.

Then: "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she replied immediately. Her voice remained steady, but there was a tremor beneath it.

 Not sadness. Not fear. Something more complicated. "You didn't do anything. This isn't about you."

He took a step forward. Not aggressive, just hesitant. "Then why?"

Y/n looked down for a moment. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve. 

The words came slower now, because they weren't rehearsed. She hadn't practiced saying this, she had only felt it.

"I think I've spent so long letting other people carry me," she said, meeting his eyes. "You. Orochimaru. Even Boruto lately. And I'm grateful for that, truly. But I can't keep leaning on someone else every time I feel like I might fall."

She inhaled, steadying herself. "I need to learn who I am when I'm alone. I need space to understand the parts of me that are still... broken. Or maybe just still growing."

Mitsuki's expression was unreadable. Calm, but too still. 

His eyes studied her the way he sometimes studied stars, not with detachment, but distance. 

He didn't argue. He didn't guilt her. He just listened.

"...And you can't do that here?" he asked softly.

She looked around. The apartment that had once felt like a safe harbor now felt like a reflection of who she used to be, not who she was trying to become.