The age of shinobi… was it finally coming to an end?
A young man sat before a glowing screen, staring at the newest episode of Boruto: Naruto Next Generations. What he had hoped would be a continuation of the fiery youth of the Naruto era now unfolded into something awkward, hollow, and frustratingly dull.
He clenched his fists. "If I could, I'd go back there myself… I'd fix it. I'd rewrite my childhood rather than watch it all crumble like this!"
---
Far away, in a dim and ancient hall, the faint light of lamp oil swayed gently, painting flickering shadows across carved stone pillars.
On the highest seat, an old figure sat on a cushion, half-asleep. His horizontal pupils, the mark of an ancient Sage, gleamed faintly with otherworldly light.
"I have foreseen it," the Great Toad Sage murmured, his voice hoarse but calm. "A new Child of Destiny will soon descend… the future of the shinobi world will…"
He paused mid-sentence, blinking blankly. "Eh? What was I saying again?"
Fukasaku and Shima exchanged a long, helpless look.
This was Mount Myōboku, one of the Three Great Sage Lands. As the Great Toad Sage, Gamamaru often glimpsed fragments of fate in his dreams.
This time, he had seen the image of a boy — his eyes glowing with a blue light like clear water.
Still, Fukasaku frowned. "But the shinobi world has been peaceful for years. Why would it need another Child of Destiny?"
Gamamaru yawned. "Child of Destiny? What kind of dumpling is that?"
Fukasaku's eye twitched. "…Never mind."
Even so, they knew the Great Toad Sage's dreams were never meaningless. They sent word to Konoha through a messenger toad.
"I hope we're not troubling Naruto," Fukasaku sighed.
Shima smiled gently. "It's been years since we've seen him. Maybe I'll send him some of my cooking with the message."
Wooo—
The low hum of a train echoed through the city, the wind whipping across the rooftops.
A boy with messy, pineapple-shaped blond hair sat on top of the train, his eyes — bright blue, clear, and deep — staring absently at the sky.
Beside him, another boy sighed. "Boruto… hey, Boruto, tomorrow's the Academy entrance ceremony. Are you even listening?"
"Oh… yeah. I'm listening," Boruto replied vaguely, still half lost in thought.
As the breeze swept past, the truth settled in. He wasn't watching Boruto anymore.
He was Boruto.
Reincarnated — or something close to it.
He, a grown man from another world, now sat in the body of Naruto Uzumaki's son.
"Boruto, don't ignore me," Shikadai muttered. "You're always spacing out. Try not to make your Tou-san look bad tomorrow."
Boruto blinked, dragged out of his thoughts. "Right… sorry."
Shikadai frowned, clearly thrown off by his sudden obedience. "You're acting weird. Whatever. Just don't be late. I'm leaving first."
He jumped down from the moving train, landing smoothly on a nearby pole before disappearing into the street below.
Boruto stayed seated, the city rolling by beneath him. So this is real, he thought. I really ended up here.
He looked down at his hands, then quietly molded chakra. The faint hum coursed through him — warm, alive, unmistakable.
He pressed his palms together. "Shadow Clone Jutsu."
Boom!
Three identical Borutos appeared beside him, blinking in unison.
It worked — though the chakra flow felt clumsy and shallow compared to what he remembered from watching Naruto's training years ago.
"…Pathetic," he muttered under his breath.
Naruto had summoned hundreds of clones during his first real battle. Boruto could barely manage three.
Still, he dispelled them with a sigh. No point whining. I need to get stronger, fast.
Jumping from the train roof, he started toward home.
He couldn't change the world by complaining. He had to act.
The image of Naruto — older, weary, losing Kurama to protect his son — flashed in his mind. That scene had once broken his heart. Now, it burned inside him like a promise.
Not this time.
If I'm Boruto Uzumaki… then I'll make sure he never ends up alone.
Crossing a bridge, Boruto spotted something familiar — a small boy in blue being cornered by a group of delinquents in a side alley.
He recognized the scene instantly. Right. This is where Boruto meets Denki.
Leaning against the railing, he waited for the right moment.
"Is that all, Denki?" the gang leader sneered.
"Isn't that enough?" Denki muttered weakly.
"Tch. Not good enough for us." The thug grabbed Denki by the collar, pulling his arm back for a punch—
Boruto dropped from above.
His sandals hit the ground lightly, his shadow falling between Denki and the gang.
The thugs stared. "Who the hell are you?"
"The guy who told you to shut up."
Boruto didn't wait for a response. One clean punch — bang — sent the leader sprawling into a trash bin.
The other two froze for half a second, then charged in fury.
Boruto smirked. "Fine. Let's make it fair."
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Three more Borutos burst into existence, tackling the thugs in a flurry of motion. Within seconds, the alley filled with the sound of chaos — fists, shouts, and clattering trash cans.
By the time the dust settled, the real Boruto had quietly slipped away, leading Denki out of the alley and onto a quiet balcony.
"Here," he said, handing back Denki's stolen wallet.
Denki took it hesitantly, head lowered. "Thanks… but this'll just make things worse."
Boruto smiled faintly. "Not if you stop running from them."
Denki looked up, startled.
"Strength isn't about scaring people," Boruto said, echoing the words he'd once heard from Naruto himself. "It's about protecting something — or someone—that matters."
Denki's eyes widened, his lips trembling as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.
As the sun dipped behind the rooftops, the two walked side by side down the glowing streets of Konoha.
For Denki, it was the start of a friendship.
For Boruto, it was the first step toward rewriting fate.
That night, Boruto stood before the Uzumaki household — familiar, yet strange.
Naruto's home.
The dream home of his childhood hero.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
"I'm home," he called softly.
"Boruto? Didn't we say we'd celebrate tonight?"
The voice that answered froze him on the spot.
Hinata walked out of the kitchen, dressed casually, her soft lavender eyes filled with gentle warmth. The years hadn't dulled her beauty — if anything, she seemed even more radiant up close.
Boruto blinked, speechless. His chest tightened in a strange mix of awe and awkwardness.
His childhood crush — standing before him —is now his mother.
Hinata smiled kindly and walked over, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Did something happen today? You seem off."
"No, nothing, Kaa-san." Boruto forced a grin. "Just tripped and embarrassed myself in front of Shikadai."
Hinata giggled softly. "Don't worry. Everyone falls sometimes."
Before he could reply, a small voice squealed from the hallway.
"Nii-san's home!"
Himawari ran up and jumped onto his back, hugging him tightly.
"I helped make dinner tonight, too!" she said proudly.
Boruto laughed, his earlier awkwardness fading. "Then it'll definitely be amazing."
"Alright, alright," Hinata said, smiling. "Go wash your hands and come eat."
"Got it…" Boruto replied, setting Himawari down.
The warm light of home filled the room as the Uzumaki family gathered around the table.
The laughter, the food, the peace — it was everything he remembered loving about this world.
And this time, Boruto swore to himself —
He would protect it all.