Shikamaru was silent for so long that Shikadai thought his father would never answer.
At last, Shikamaru rose and walked to the alcove. He picked up a photograph of Shikadai's grandfather, Shikaku Nara, taken before his death in the Fourth Shinobi World War.
Shikamaru gazed at his father's gentle, knowing smile in the photograph. With his back to Shikadai, he spoke softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "Your grandfather made that choice."
For the first time, Shikadai truly understood the weight his father carried, and what it meant to be a member of the Nara Clan: behind their keen minds lay longer-reaching considerations and more painful choices.
The memory receded like a tide.
Shikadai jerked his head up and wiped the tears from his face.
When he looked at Boruto again, his composure had returned. His gaze was sharper and more resolute than before, though his eyes were still faintly red.
"Boruto," he said, his voice steady and firm, "listen to me. In this illusion, our only 'real' goal is to clear it."
"Child Emperor and Sasori both pointed us down this path. My mom appearing here, whether she's hurt or something else has happened, is part of this 'game's story.'"
"If we succeed and break out of this illusion, then my mom in the real world will be all right!"
He saw the turmoil in Boruto's eyes and spoke one word at a time. "So don't turn back. Don't stop."
"Go! Keep moving! Finish our mission!"
Boruto stared at Shikadai. His friend was in terrible pain, yet he had chosen to move forward. The resolve in his eyes struck Boruto hard.
He understood now. When Shikadai spoke of "sacrifice," it had never been out of coldness. It was the pain of choosing to give something up so that more