Toy's Maker Wish

1. A Doll, the Toy Maker and a Girl Full of Regrets

Sarada tripped over an empty bottle of wine lying on the stained carpet in her living room.

"Fuck!" She let out a scream, while trying to get up by gripping the edges of her stylish red sofa. Her back hurt, but she propelled herself up to sit down.

The incident with an empty wine bottle didn't deter her from reaching out for an unopened one that was still on the table next to a nicely framed photo.

She took sips of wine straight up from the bottle once she opened it.

Her gaze landed on a photo after downing her wine and gently throwing away another bottle that rolled down on the floor. She'd clean up the mess later.

"I miss you," she whispered, taking the photo out of the frame.

Looking at his blond hair, blue eyes and, above all else, a wide smile adorning his face in the picture, it was like he was still with her, laughing and celebrating his birthday. Sure, back then she'd found him complaining about gifts he received annoying, but now she'd trade her own life for his, and desired to hear his voice again.

"I miss you," she repeated in her empty house. "Boruto."

One year had passed since Boruto's death in an accident she'd caused during his birthday and she still wasn't able to move on from his death. Nowadays she tried to distract herself by taking on more workload, but even that had its limits. She wasn't able to pretend and lie to herself that everything was fine today.

Boruto died because of her. If she didn't offer him a lift home, he wouldn't be dead. It was her fault the accident happened. She was distracted with something important in the past, that seemed less important now. Not as much as having her childhood friend back, along with the childhood she dearly missed.

Sarada had a bunch of regrets when Boruto was involved. Scolding him over trivial things, not being honest about the times he'd made her laugh, avoiding his younger sister Himawari after his death from eating her up inside guilt and the biggest one of all — not telling him she loved him. She still does.

All this pent-up guilt needed to burst out someday. It just so happened the day she was plastered from drinking was on the day of Boruto's birthday that also marked the one-year anniversary of his death.

She cautiously hugged the photo of a smiling Boruto to her chest. "I miss you. I want to see you again."

The sound of a doorbell interrupted her pity party. Tucking the photo gently inside of the frame again, she stood up and walked towards the door with her wobbly legs. Her hands were shaking when she put them on her doorknob to open the door. She blinked twice at the sight of a guy with messy silver hair, pale skin and golden eyes that wore a fashionable blue coat.

"W-who are you?" She stammered out, preparing herself to run and take one of her vases for house plants, just in case she needed it as a weapon. One of the empty wine bottles would suffice, too.

The stranger scrunched his nose. "You reek of booze, Sarada."

"Answer the question!"

"Are you so drunk you don't even recognise your own friends? It's me Mitsuki."

In the instant he said his name, Sarada abandoned her idea of getting armed with a household weapon for self-defence. Mitsuki was one of her closest friends and took the loss of Boruto just as hard as she did.

"Why are you here?" She questioned and let him inside.

After she closed the door, Mitsuki hung his coat onto the hanger and moved to sit on one of her sofas. His judgmental eyes landed on the empty bottles rolling down the carpet. He sighed.