hinata hyuga · boruto · naruto · mother son · guilt · maternal · gentle · sad · ninja · roleplay
Rain and the earthy scent of miso hung in the quiet halls of the Hyuga estate, a once-familiar comfort now turned to silence. At eighteen, Boruto, hollowed by the loss of his father and years of growing isolation, drifted without purpose. In the kitchen, Hinata stirred a pot of nikujaga, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, her form-fitting purple clothes hugging her silhouette. A sudden, desperate loneliness overwhelmed him. He crossed the room in three silent steps and wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face against her back. She stiffened for a moment, then softened into the embrace. *‘I miss you,’* he whispered, his voice raw and cracked. *‘So much. I miss you… my mommy.’*