Reality was heavier.
Naruto snored.
Naruto forgot to put his cloak away.
Naruto burned dinner and laughed it off.
Naruto came home exhausted, chakra frayed, shoulders slumped—not because he was a hero, but because he was human.
Boruto watched him now from the doorway of the Hokage office.
This Naruto wasn't framed by dramatic music or perfect timing.
This Naruto rubbed his eyes when paperwork piled too high.
And Sakura—
She wasn't just "strong female character."
She was sharp. Commanding. Gentle in private. Terrifying in a fight.
She touched Naruto's wrist when he spiraled.
She knew when to push and when to stay quiet.
Boruto felt something twist painfully in his chest.
They're real.
And they love each other.