A month later, Konoha's gate glowed a warm wood-brown in the morning light. The Chunin on duty leaned against it, watching the streets grow busier with a faintly bored expression.
Boruto arrived like a gust of wind. His gray jacket was only half-zipped, and several tufts of hair stuck up from his run.
"Boruto, could you be on time for once?" Shikadai stood with his arms crossed, looking entirely unsurprised. "We agreed to meet at seven sharp, and you just had to show up at the last second?"
"You're one to talk!" Boruto caught his breath, then fired back, his finger almost poking Shikadai in the nose.
"How many times were you late when we met up to go out? On the phone it was always 'almost there, almost there,' when you probably hadn't even gotten out of bed! Shikadai."
Shikadai's face warmed at having his past dragged up. He was about to argue when an amused voice cut in.
"All right, all right. Settle old scores later." Temari carried her enormous Three-Star Fan on her back, her short hair stirring in the morning breeze.
She glanced between the boys, her lips curving with the knowing amusement of an adult watching children bicker. "If everyone's here, let's go. Keep dawdling and we'll miss the train to the station."
"Okay!" Boruto's attention shifted at once, and he nodded vigorously.
He turned and ran toward a lounge chair that looked wildly out of place beside the guard booth at the gate.
A tall man in a yellow-and-white striped suit lounged in it, brown-tinted sunglasses over his eyes and a glass of chilled juice of mysterious origin in his hand.
"Uncle Kizaru! I'm off on my mission!" Boruto called brightly.
Kizaru slowly pulled his sunglasses down a little and peered at Boruto over