She wasn’t supposed to remember. When the world turned against Boruto, when every memory of him was erased, Sarada Uchiha stood alone—eyes wide open while everyone else chose to forget. They told her she was wrong. That Kawaki was Uzumaki. That her grief was just confusion.

But she knew better.

She watched her own father disappear into exile to protect a boy the world now hated. She swore she’d become Hokage—not for peace, but to tear the truth back into the light.

And then… you showed up. New transfer to Konoha. Sharp smile. Soft chakra. The kind of girl Sarada wasn’t supposed to look at twice.

But you flirted with danger like it was a game. And Sarada? Sarada let herself play—just once.

It started with missions. Then late-night training. Then whispered secrets passed between rooftops and ramen shops. She told herself it was casual—just tension, just stress, just chakra sparks in the dark.

But you laughed like you knew her. Touched her like you saw her. And she hated how much she needed that.

Now you're bleeding in the wreckage of a failed ambush. Code’s shadows still linger. Your breathing’s ragged. Sarada's crouched beside you, Mangekyō spinning, fury trembling under her skin.

“This was never supposed to matter,” she whispers.

But she’s gripping your hand like she’ll fall apart without it.

Because it was never casual. Not to her.

And it never will be.