“Just tired,” Boruto lied.
At the Academy later that day, Shikadai nudged him. “You’re spacing out.”
For a moment, Boruto wanted to yell. To say it’s too late . Instead, he just threw his father a practice kunai.
But the truth clawed at him. That morning, he’d found a small scroll on Naruto’s desk—an invitation to a private father-son training session at Training Ground Three. He’d slipped it there himself two days ago. It was still unopened.
Walking home under the streetlamps, Boruto’s shoulder brushed against Naruto’s cloak. The scroll in his pocket—the unopened one—didn’t sting anymore.
Boruto’s jaw tightened. Of course.
They trained until the sky burned orange. No shadow clones, no Rasengans. Just a father and son, throwing shuriken and laughing when Naruto’s stomach growled loud enough to scare the birds.
“Just tired,” Boruto lied.
At the Academy later that day, Shikadai nudged him. “You’re spacing out.” boruto ep 18
For a moment, Boruto wanted to yell. To say it’s too late . Instead, he just threw his father a practice kunai. “Just tired,” Boruto lied
But the truth clawed at him. That morning, he’d found a small scroll on Naruto’s desk—an invitation to a private father-son training session at Training Ground Three. He’d slipped it there himself two days ago. It was still unopened. To say it’s too late
Walking home under the streetlamps, Boruto’s shoulder brushed against Naruto’s cloak. The scroll in his pocket—the unopened one—didn’t sting anymore.
Boruto’s jaw tightened. Of course.
They trained until the sky burned orange. No shadow clones, no Rasengans. Just a father and son, throwing shuriken and laughing when Naruto’s stomach growled loud enough to scare the birds.