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

Hollow Questions

The training chamber pulsed with artificial heat. 

Stark white walls stretched high and bare, broken only by the faint glow of chakra-repelling seals etched into the corners. 

Dust spun lazily in the stagnant air, caught in slants of overhead light that blinked too slowly, like tired eyes refusing to close.

Y/n stood in the center of the ring, her breath a shallow tremor in her chest. The floor beneath her was scuffed, blood-slick in places where her palms had cracked against it. 

Her muscles burned, not from lack of stamina, but from repetition. From failure.

Seven months.

Seven months, and she still hadn't landed a single hit.

Across from her, Code didn't even look winded. His posture was loose, unreadable, his arms folded, expression unreadable behind the silver slits of his gaze. 

He didn't pace. He didn't posture. He didn't mock her.

He just waited.

Always waiting.

Y/n lunged again, this time faster, her Sharingan snapping into place. 

The blur of her movement cracked through the air like a whip. She twisted mid-sprint, vanished into a flicker of movement, and a kunai slashing toward the exposed seam of Code's collar.

And again, nothing.

He sidestepped her like a passing breeze.

The blade missed by a breath.

She hit the floor harder than she intended. Skin tore across her shoulder where she'd landed the wrong way. Blood welled up, sharp, vivid. 

Her fingers twitched where they splayed against the tile.

She didn't groan. Didn't curse.

She simply breathed, eyes locked on the ground, and let the silence stretch.

Code approached, footsteps soft but precise. When he stopped beside her, she didn't move.

"You're getting faster," he said calmly, offering her a gloved hand. "Cleaner, too. Your movement isn't the issue."

She ignored the hand and pushed herself up, swaying slightly. Her hair clung to her face in damp strands. 

The red glow in her eyes flickered once, then faded.

"I can't land a hit," she said flatly.

"Yet," Code corrected, tone matter-of-fact.

Y/n wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her wrist. It smeared across her chin, but she didn't seem to care. "You said that two months ago."

"And it was true then, too."

A pause passed between them, not heavy, not warm. Just a vacuum of emotion. 

The kind that echoed too loudly inside the head if left unattended.

Y/n turned from him, walking back to the center of the room. Her movements were rigid. Controlled. Like a machine whose parts had stopped creaking from overuse.

Code watched her, head tilted slightly. There was no mocking in his gaze, only interest. Curiosity. 

He had trained dozens of bodies before. All tools. All stepping stones. 

But something about this one...

She didn't shatter.

She simply dulled.