bubblegum princess

chapter seventy

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
welcome to the final show;
A SUDDEN BETRAYAL !
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

𝞋𝞎

Seiren couldn't comprehend what was happening around her. The deafening cheers, the ecstatic applause—the sheer weight of the crowd's excitement seemed to blur into white noise. People stood from their seats, their voices rising in awe and admiration. Who wouldn't? The son of the Seventh Hokage had just proven himself on the grand stage, his victory undeniable.

Inojin, however, wasn't looking at Boruto. His sharp blue eyes caught the distant, empty look in Seiren's gaze, the way her hands clenched weakly at her sides. She wasn't watching the celebration—she was staring at Boruto as he waved to the crowd, as if she was somewhere far away, unreachable.

Beside her, Shikadai gently nudged her arm. "Are you alright?" he whispered, concern etched into his voice.

Seiren barely responded. Her fingers lifted slightly, trembling as she pointed toward Sarada's unconscious figure, slumped against the shattered debris where she had collided moments ago. Her voice was small, fragile—almost childlike.

"Neechan... help Neechan... please."

Shikadai and Inojin both felt their chests tighten at her words. The desperation in her tone, the way her body seemed to shrink with helplessness—it was something they weren't used to seeing in her. She always carried herself with an air of quiet strength, but now, she looked lost. Broken.

Inojin swallowed the lump in his throat and gently placed a hand on her back, guiding her toward their seats. "The medics are coming, Sei. Don't worry." He tried to reassure her, but even he knew his words felt empty.

Seiren didn't acknowledge him. Her eyes stayed locked onto Sarada's unmoving form before flickering—just for a second—toward Boruto.

The stadium still roared with celebration. Their friends clapped and cheered, pride glimmering in their smiles. But amid all the noise, Naruto was silent.

Unlike the others, the Hokage wasn't smiling.

He stood from his seat slowly, the weight of something unreadable in his gaze. His expression was unreadable, his cerulean eyes dimmed with an unbearable emotion. Then, without a word, he leaped from the balcony where the other Kage sat, landing on the battlefield below.

Confused murmurs spread among the crowd. His peers exchanged uncertain glances.

The cheers gradually quieted as Naruto strode toward his son, his steps deliberate, heavy. Boruto, still basking in his moment of glory, turned to him with the brightest grin—one so big, so radiant, it could rival the sun. All his frustration, his anger, his resentment melted away in that instant.

This was it.

This was what he had fought for.

He had finally proven his father wrong.

He had shown everyone that he wasn't just the Hokage's son—that he was strong, that he was capable, that he deserved to be more than just a shadow in his father's legacy.

With that same beaming smile, he lifted his arm between them, offering Naruto a fist bump—the one they always shared.

Boruto ignored the dread curling in his chest.

He ignored the dull ache in his hand from where he had pulled away from Seiren.

He ignored the way she had looked at him, as if something inside her had shattered.