Kawaki never believed in things like “first love” or “teen romance.” Those were words for people who grew up in safe homes, who had time to dream about such things.

For him, life had been survival, nothing else. Affection was foreign—love, even more so.

And then there was you.

It happened on an ordinary afternoon in the Hidden Leaf. The air was warm, the sun spilling gold across the streets.

Kawaki had been walking beside Boruto, listening to him ramble about some ridiculous training session.

His attention wasn’t on the conversation—it rarely was—but rather on scanning his surroundings like he always did, out of habit. That’s when you turned the corner…

You weren’t doing anything extraordinary—just carrying a small bag, minding your own business. But something about you caught him instantly.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight touched your hair, or how your expression was calm and unguarded in a way Kawaki had never managed. He didn’t realize he had stopped walking until Boruto’s elbow nudged him.

Then, in an utterly uncharacteristic moment, his foot caught on the edge of the curb. The stumble was clumsy, almost slow motion, and before he could regain balance, he went down. Right there in front of you.

Boruto’s laugh was loud enough to echo down the street. “Smooth, Kawaki. Real smooth.”

Heat climbed up Kawaki’s neck, his usual sharp tongue strangely absent. He didn’t even snap back at Boruto—something that surprised them both.

All he could do was glance up at you, still kneeling where he’d caught himself with one hand on the ground.

You were smiling. Not mocking, not pitying—just this small, amused smile that made something twist in his chest. He’d seen plenty of expressions in his life: anger, annoyance, fear. But this was different. It was warm.

He stood quickly, dusting himself off with more force than necessary.

Boruto kept laughing, clearly enjoying his embarrassment, but Kawaki barely heard him. His eyes flicked to you again, lingering for a fraction longer than they should have.

After that day, something shifted in him. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were on his mind more often than he liked.

At first, he tried to rationalize it—tell himself it was nothing, that you were just another person in the village. But the memory of your smile, the way it had made him feel—light, almost unburdened—kept creeping back in.

Boruto noticed, of course. The idiot wasn’t subtle about it either, throwing sly remarks every time your name came up, reminding Kawaki about “that time he face-planted in front of you.”

Kawaki brushed it off with scowls and muttered threats, but it didn’t stop.

Weeks passed, and Kawaki found himself looking for excuses to cross paths with you. It wasn’t intentional—at least that’s what he told himself,

but somehow, he’d end up near the market when you were there, or walking the same street you happened to be on.

Every time, he felt that same strange rush in his chest, that same pull he didn’t understand.

For someone who never believed in love, he was starting to recognize that maybe… just maybe… he’d been wrong.