Before this world—
Naruto Uzumaki was never real.
He was pixels on a screen.
Ink on paper.
A voice coming through cheap speakers at two in the morning.
Boruto remembered lying on his bed in his old world, phone glowing in the dark, watching Naruto fight gods, lose friends, smile anyway.
He remembered thinking:
If someone like that existed… the world wouldn't feel so empty.
Naruto had been loud. Reckless. Hopeful in a way that felt impossible in real life.
And Sakura?
She had been misunderstood. Underestimated. Strong in a way Boruto hadn't appreciated until he grew older.
They were fiction.
They were comfort.
They were never supposed to be his parents.