The night air was cool, brushing against Boruto's skin as he walked alongside Sumire, their fingers intertwined. The warmth of her hand in his was a grounding sensation, an anchor in the storm raging inside him. The village was quiet, the distant hum of life barely reaching them as they made their way through the dimly lit streets. The light of the street lamps cast long shadows, flickering as if mirroring the turmoil in his heart.
He had accepted Sumire's hand instinctively, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing himself completely. But even as their fingers tightened around each other, a deeper, darker force was clawing at him from within.
"She is a fool if she thinks she can save you."
Momoshiki's voice was a venomous whisper in his mind, slithering through his thoughts like a serpent tightening its hold.
"She sees only the surface, Boruto. She does not know what lurks beneath. The power you hold… the potential you could unleash. You felt it, didn't you? The thrill of taking a life. The rush of power coursing through your veins."
Boruto's grip on Sumire's hand faltered for a second, his body tensing. She noticed, casting a glance his way, her violet eyes filled with concern. But she said nothing, simply squeezing his hand gently in reassurance.
A war raged inside him.
The Light spoke, a whisper, a reminder of who he was.
"You are Boruto Uzumaki. You are not defined by your mistakes. You still have people who love you, who believe in you. Don't throw that away."
But the Darkness, oh, it was relentless.
"Love?" Momoshiki sneered. "Do you truly believe in such fragile, meaningless things? Tell me, where was their love when they feared you? Where was their love when they cast you aside?"
Boruto's jaw clenched. He thought of the dinner table, the way Himawari had looked at him, the way Naruto had lectured him, the way even his mother—his own mother—had questioned who he had become. Hadn't he done everything to protect them? Hadn't he fought to keep them safe? And yet… they looked at him as if he were a stranger. As if he were a monster.
His footsteps slowed.
Sumire stopped beside him, waiting patiently. She was always patient. Always watching him with those soft, understanding eyes. As if she could see the battle raging within him but chose not to pry. That was Sumire's way. She gave him space, allowed him to breathe, even when she was drowning in worry herself.
And she was worried. He could feel it in the way she held his hand, in the way she kept glancing at him. She was afraid—not of him, but for him.
"She loves you," the Light insisted. "She stayed when no one else did. She sees you for who you are."
Boruto exhaled sharply, his free hand curling into a fist. "But what if I don't even know who I am anymore?" he muttered under his breath.
Sumire looked at him, tilting her head slightly. "Did you say something?"
He forced a small smile. "No. Just thinking."
She nodded but didn't press further. She just kept walking, leading him through the quiet streets toward her home. It should have felt peaceful. It should have felt safe.
But inside him, the storm only grew stronger.
"She will leave you."
The words slithered through his mind like a shadow creeping over his soul. "Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow. But one day, she will. And when she does, what will you have left?"
Boruto swallowed hard.
"That's not true."
"Oh, but it is. You know it. You have seen it before. They always leave, Boruto. One by one. Until you are alone."
His grip on Sumire's hand tightened, as if by holding onto her, he could silence the voice, drown out the darkness. But the truth was… the darkness was winning. With every step, with every breath, he felt himself slipping further.
He needed more power.
That was the only way. If he was strong enough, no one would ever look down on him again. No one would fear him because of what he had done—they would respect him for what he had become. The weak were abandoned. The strong were worshipped.
He had been weak for too long.
His heart pounded as he stared at Sumire, watching how her hair caught the glow of the streetlights, how her eyes held so much emotion. She was kind, selfless, willing to stay by his side even when he was drowning. She had confessed her love to him.
He wanted to believe in it. He wanted to believe that her love was enough.
But love did not grant power.
Love did not change the way the world worked.
Meanwhile, Sumire was lost in her own emotions. She had always been strong, had always carried her burdens quietly, but tonight was different. Tonight, the weight of Boruto's pain was pressing on her heart. She could feel his inner turmoil, even if he tried to hide it. It was in the way he held her hand—a grip that was both desperate and hesitant, as if he was fighting within himself.
She loved him. She had loved him for a long time, longer than she had dared to admit. She had always admired his strength, his kindness, his unwavering spirit. But now, that spirit was shrouded in darkness, and it terrified her.
Would he let her in? Or would he shut her out completely?
She wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, that he wasn't alone, that no matter what happened, she would be by his side. But words felt so fragile compared to the weight of his suffering. So instead, she held his hand tighter, hoping that somehow, through that simple touch, she could reassure him that she was here. That she wasn't leaving.
Even if he chose the darkness, even if he pushed her away, she would not abandon him.
Sumire had once been lost in the darkness too. She knew how suffocating it could be. But she also knew that sometimes, all it took was one person reaching out to pull you back.
She prayed she could be that person for him.
Sumire's house was just ahead now. The journey was nearly over. But for Boruto, it felt like something else was ending entirely. A choice was being made within him, and he could feel the weight of it settling in his soul.
Would he continue to grasp onto the fragile hope Sumire represented?
Or would he embrace the darkness that offered him certainty, that promised strength, that ensured no one would ever look at him with pity again?
As they reached the doorstep, Sumire turned to him fully. She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're here," she said gently. "You can stay as long as you need, Boruto."
He stared at her, heart heavy, mind clouded.
"Power," Momoshiki whispered, "or weakness. Choose."
Boruto exhaled, stepping forward.
And then, together, they stepped inside.