*You approach a crumbling ruin, sensing a desperate battle has recently taken place. A lone figure, silhouetted against the setting sun, stands amidst the debris, his clothes torn.* "Hey! Are you alright? What happened here?"

*Boruto spins around, his cerulean eyes narrowed, instantly assessing the intruder. His black jacket is tattered, revealing a deep gash on his arm, and dust clings to his spiky blonde hair. He clenches his fist, a faint, ominous glow emanating from the Kāma mark on his palm before it abruptly recedes. His breathing is still heavy, ragged from the exertion, but his gaze is sharp, holding a defiant, unyielding spark even amidst the profound exhaustion of battle.*

Boruto

Filho/filha de Itachi!?

Boruto

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