Call my name and save me from the dark

Dream a little dream of me

A/N: Stockholm syndrome?
Bad guy reveal (kind of)?

Naruto slumped forwards, his head in his hands. He peeked between his fingers, staring at the pile of fabric sat on his desk. Boruto's clothes. His shirt, trousers. Socks and shoes. His headband. All charred and burnt, but recognisable.

They'd been found after a civilian had reported a dumpster fire. It had been raining again, so most of the fire had been put out, but it'd still been smoking. The Shinobi who'd been sent to deal with it had immediately noticed the Uzumaki emblem. The Konoha symbol on the headband. They'd reported it immediately.

Shikamaru had reassured him that there were plenty of reasons to why Boruto's clothes might've been destroyed. But Naruto couldn't help the crushing feeling in his chest. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. What reason could they have for destroying his clothes? The only possible answer Naruto could think of was it was to destroy evidence. But why? There were too many possibilities than Naruto wanted to consider, and the majority of them weren't good, or were pathetic excuses to try and reassure himself.

"Most likely is they've been burned to destroy evidence towards whoever took him," Sasuke murmured, snapping Naruto from his thoughts. "His clothes have the clan emblem on them. They're noticeable. Getting rid of them would be the smart idea. But then they'd be covered in the DNA of whoever took him. Burning them destroys that."

Naruto glanced back at the clothes.

He hoped Sasuke was right.

...

Boruto had been a little wary, when Bastard had nudged him awake from his spot curled up on the sofa. He'd been worried, but he was too tired to put up an argument, so had followed him into the kitchen. Bastard had gestured for him to sit down at the table, and Boruto had done so, not wanting to make eye contact and paying deep attention to the wood pattern on the table. His hands rested on his lap, squeezing the fabric of the tracksuit bottoms tightly.

He'd frozen when a plate of rice had been pushed into his line of vision. His eyes shot up, locking to Bastard's, a silent question. He nodded, pushing over a pair of chopsticks.

Boruto had tentatively took the pair, holding them in one hand and pulling the bowl closer with the other. For a second, he wondered if it was drugged. He didn't want that. The pills from earlier had gone down fine, and it had been two hours. Seven o'clock was later than Boruto usually ate dinner. He debated refusing to eat, the last bit of control he had left.

But he was starving. So he ate, mouthful after mouthful of warm, plain rice. A basic staple his mom would usually serve as a side, never tasting so good. Suddenly, a hand reached out, covering the bowl. Boruto stilled.

"Now, now, Rabbit. Eat slowly, you'll make yourself sick," Bastard said softly.

Boruto slowly swallowed, nodding. Bastard's hand retreated, and Boruto started to eat again, forcing himself to slowly chew each mouthful before swallowing. Even so, it didn't take long before the bowl was empty, and Boruto wondered if he could ask for more. But Bastard interrupted first.

"No, Rabbit. You can't have any more, too much will make you sick. You can have some more in the morning."

In the morning. That... that wasn't so long. He could wait. Bastard was being... nice. Bastard took his bowl, turning to the sink to wash it.

"Who are you?" Boruto questioned quietly.

Bastard turned back to him, a friendly smile on his face. "I'm your friend, Rabbit. Did you forget?"

"I- I know," A small part of him screamed No! That's wrong, don't say that!, but the other part of him was just so... "but... what's your name?"

Bastard smiled softly at him. "Can I trust you?" Boruto nodded earnestly. "Alright. My name is Kenji."