bubblegum princess

chapter seventy four

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
welcome to the final show;
MY LOVE,
ALL MINE !
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

𝞋𝞎

It had been several hours since the Kage, Sasuke, and Boruto had vanished through the portal.

The sky above the village had shifted from gold to grey, thick with clouds that pressed against the horizon as if holding their breath. On the rooftop of the Hokage's building, the wind had calmed, but the heaviness in the air remained. Time felt suspended.

And Seiren hadn't moved.

Her figure remained by the edge, hands curled around the armrests of the wheelchair that Keishi had brought. The moment she sat down, her legs had crumpled beneath her—too weak, too numb. Her lungs strained with every breath now and then, like her body could no longer keep up with the weight pressing against her chest.

She was scared. Not of her own condition, not even of the pain she'd grown used to—she was terrified of not seeing Boruto return.

Sakura had knelt beside her daughter, never once letting go of her hand.

"You should lie down," Sakura whispered, brushing back the hair that stuck to Seiren's damp forehead.

But Seiren shook her head slowly. Her gaze never left the sky.

"I want to be here... when they come back," she whispered. Her voice cracked, raw from silence. "If he... if he comes back hurt or—" her throat tightened, "or worse—"

"He won't," Sakura said gently, her hand wrapping firmly around hers. "You saw the way he looked at you, didn't you?"

Seiren's lips parted. She tried to nod, but it faltered halfway, her breath catching.

"I did..."

Sakura didn't press further. She simply sat beside her, anchoring her there, present and grounded, even as Seiren trembled.

Keishi stood quietly behind them, his hands resting on the wheelchair handles, eyes scanning the sky every few seconds—waiting. Hoping.

The only sounds that filled the rooftop were the occasional gusts of wind, the distant hum of the village below, and the rhythmic beeping of Seiren's portable heart monitor from the bag at her side.

Time passed slowly.

And still, Seiren waited.

Every second that ticked by clawed at her nerves. But she stayed, her fingers intertwined with her mother's, holding on—just in case that portal shimmered again.

Because she had to be there.

"I still can't believe that idiot said that in front of everyone..." Sarada muttered, adjusting the bag of medical supplies in her arms as they walked down the corridor of the hospital.

Shikadai chuckled under his breath, carrying his own set of supplies. "You know how smitten he is when it comes to Seiren," he said with a lopsided grin.

But then, the air grew quiet.

The footsteps between them and the dull murmurs of the hospital filled the silence—until Shikadai let out a shaky breath.

"She's really leaving, huh?" he asked softly.

Sarada's smile faded. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she gave a small nod. "It's for the best," she answered—though the heaviness in her voice betrayed how much it hurt to say it.