BOLT and the Curse Of The Black Chakra

Chapter One: A Reason to Understand

The wind was blowing the curtains over like reaching white hands from his window, letting fresh wind change the fuggy air in his room. It has been days since he last let in the air, more to his unconsciousness of needing new air every day than for any special reasons at all. Boruto leaned forward to his window, trying to push away his dizzy and sleepy head in the corner of his mind, trying to tell himself; he didn't need the rest.

"Oni-san!" A yell came from the door. "Oni-san! Hurry down, mom finished making breakfast! Hurry up sleepy!" The doorknob turned, but it was locked. The door shook a couple times before Himawari stopped her attempt.

"Oni-san?" She knocked at the door.

"Himawari, I'll be down in a minute! I need to change!" A sigh of relief came from the door, "Alright!" followed by the sound of disappearing footsteps as she walked away. Boruto sat back on his chair, looking down at his papers. It was full of scribbles, left here and there around a picture of a flying contraption.

It was a simple model, drawn as carefully as possible since he realized he has no talents at all at drawing. He had tried with all his might to make the lines straight with a ruler. He had to admit, it was pretty good. A pair of wooden arm crisscrossing the main stem would open anytime it was pressed open by the chakra that flowed from his body. The beauty of it was that the wideness and the wood of the contraption were specially chosen to fit him and him only. He smirked. How long did it take him to find the right material?

"Oni-saaaaaaan!" This time it was a scream. A small sound of rebuke from their mother made him remember what he had to do; he had to change and eat breakfast. He threw on a plain dark green T-shirt and a jacket that was a bit too long for him. His hands were full of papercuts from holding all the designs he had made. They were scattered all over his desk now, that it made him remember how much he needed a file holder. He brushed his fingers over his head and walked out of his room.

At the kitchen, the breakfast was indeed ready. There were milk and orange juice prepared where he usually sat; next to Himawari and in front of father. Mother was washing a pan when he came in, while Himari was drinking her milk.

"Ah! Oni-san, what took you so long? I thought you've fallen asleep again." She took another sip of her milk. He grinned, reaching her head to rub it but she backed off. She had started the habit of trying to keep her hair untouched since she reached fourteen last year.

"Now that I think about it, you look like you don't get enough sleep than sleeping more than you should." She pointed out, nearly poking his eye. It was his turn backing off.

"She's right, Boruto, you look so pale. Are you sick?" Mother had just sat down when she saw him, rising from her seat. He shook both his hands.

"No no no no, I'm fine! I just haven't showered yet. It's just my pillow face." He lied.

"I know what a pillow face look like," Hinata said, taking a spoon of eggrolls. Boruto had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to lie to her every time he said a lie. It's almost like she could see past his walls. He took a bite of his eggrolls, the spicy, salty, watery taste of it melted in his mouth.

"Did father come home tonight?" He asked, as neutral as possible. Himawari glanced at him, while mother didn't seem to comfortable.

"No, he's busy. There's a lot—"

"Of things he needs to take care of and the village needs attending twenty-four hours a day that the Hokage can't spare a minute for his family, I know. Sorry, I asked." He took another spoon of eggrolls. He didn't even tense when Hinata put her spoon on the table with a loud bang.