Before Dawn

The darkness was retreating, but it hadn't retreated completely.

Boruto leaned against the cold stone wall with his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat regular, and his body had entered a state of rest, yet his consciousness remained near the surface, like a fallen leaf floating on water, unable to sink.

Sarada sat across from him. Her Sharingan was already off, but her eyes still seemed especially bright in the dimness. She wasn't asleep, only resting, her fingers absently rubbing the freshly bandaged wound on her left forearm.

Naruto was in the other corner of the room, and he really was asleep. His sleeping posture was proper, his hands folded over his stomach, his breathing deep and even. The Seventh Hokage had always slept well. It was a skill honed through years on the battlefield—you had to sleep whenever you could, because you never knew when the next chance would come.

Boruto opened his eyes and looked at the crack in the ceiling. It stretched from the southeast corner to the center, like the bed of a dried-up river.

"You can't sleep either?" Sarada asked softly, careful not to wake Naruto.

"Mm."

"What are you thinking about?"

Boruto was silent for a few seconds. "I'm wondering what 'emptiness' feels like."

Sarada turned to look at him.

"It's not pain, or an itch, or any specific kind of discomfort," Boruto continued, his voice so low it was almost a murmur. "It's just... something used to be there, and now it's gone. It wasn't taken from me; it left of its own accord. So there isn't even anyone to hate."

"That sounds like a... gentle loss."

Boruto paused, then gave a soft laugh. "A gentle loss. That's a strange way to put it."

"But it's accurate."