PART 2.

The sun of day hung over the desert landscape, bathing everything in its golden glow. Mirai was standing at a singular exit point, which seemed to emerge like a hill in the middle of the vast desert.

Dressed for the cold, she wore a yellow cloak that covered her Chunin uniform, having set aside her vest due to past experiences in the Occult Twilight. His face, normally serious but confident, now reflected a mixture of seriousness and fear.

This underground exit was a hidden and isolated place, away from prying eyes and familiar paths. It was like a secret shrine in the middle of the desert, only accessible to those who knew its precise location.

Beside her, two subordinates of the Grand Old Woman, dressed in simple loincloths and faces hidden behind fabrics that only allowed their eyes to be seen, watched her with imperturbable attention. Mirai could feel their intense gazes, though their expressions were hidden under those mysterious veils.

The Great Old Woman, the leader of her clan, was standing a few steps away. Her wrinkled hands held an ornate staff, and her piercing eyes were fixed on Mirai as she packed her backpack.

He had witnessed the tension and fear in Mirai's eyes before setting out on this mission, and although his countenance was indifferent, there was a trace of worry in his gaze.

Mirai turned to them, ready to move into the unknown. He had made the decision not to inform the young ninjas about the true nature of his mission.

He knew that if they knew he was going on a clandestine assignment to protect them, they would be uneasy and worried. It would not be surprising if more than one followed her without her knowledge, exposing themselves to imminent danger.

And that was the last thing he wanted. He had seen a price listing for the heads of future ninjas during his time in the Hidden Twilight, and he didn't want the children to be in danger.

However, the Grand Elder did not agree with this choice. He believed that the truth should be revealed, that children should know the risks they faced. Mirai understood his perspective, but his actions were driven by a burning desire to protect the young from unnecessary harm.

A heavy silence filled the air, only interrupted by the slight creak of the fabric as Mirai closed her backpack. The tension was palpable, and the subordinates remained in absolute silence, as if they were keepers of an ancient secret.

Finally, Mirai, her backpack strapped to her back, stepped forward. The Great Old Woman still didn't look directly at her, but Mirai could feel the old lady's appreciative look on her. With fear in her voice, Mirai whispered a:

"Here I go." Barely audible. 

Then the Great Old Woman stepped to Mirai's side, her voice distant, but with a barely perceptible tremor as she said:

"Be very careful."

The farewell lacked effusiveness, but it was charged with a silent concern. An aura of uncertainty clung to the atmosphere as the two subordinates remained silent, watching the moment ahead.

Mirai could feel the skin on her fingers cling to the backpack straps from the sweat pouring from her hands. He wondered when it had all come to feel so overwhelming.

Not so long ago, he used to complete missions much more dangerous than this without breaking a sweat. He could even spend up to ten days away from home without causing any fuss. But this time it was different, and I knew it.

As he looked at the path ahead, he repeated over and over again in his mind, "Three days. Only three days." His mission lasted exactly three days, and in that time, he wouldn't be surprised if more than one eyebrow was raised upon realizing his absence.

The ticking of the clock in his head became a constant reminder that time was against him. Each step he took seemed slower, as if the world around him was slowing down. Each step was an additional weight on his mind, reminding him of the magnitude of what he left behind.

The desert land that lay desolate a few steps up, became cold when a voice, sharp and ordinary enough to be that of a twelve-year-old boy, chose to make its presence clear.

"Where are you going with all those things?"

Mirai's world stopped the instant the first word was spoken.

During these past few days, he had not heard that voice as clearly as he would have in the peaceful times of his home. Even doing so while being one step away from the outdoors, caused an air that made his heart flutter.

Shikadai's voice sounded so different under the current circumstances.

"And why are you leaving without saying a word?" Young Nara's interrogation resonated clearly, his voice full of frustration at not receiving an answer.

Mirai felt a jolt in her chest as Shikadai's tone became more insistent.

"Are you going to go to a so-called surprise training, and hope that we all accept it without further ado?! What do you plan to do?"

"Hey, kid, lower your voice!"

The Grandmother, still trying to remain neutral in the face of Mirai's decision, placed a hand on young Nara's chest to stop his advance. He had shared a few vague words with Mirai in the past few days, and he didn't wish for any child to leave the safety of home without a justified reason, especially not to face unknown danger.

Iwabee, the oldest of the group, remained inside the house, oblivious to the conflict that was developing between almost brothers. He couldn't allow Shikadai to cause disturbance over a trivial dispute, especially considering the cataclysm that threatened the village.

Mirai stood still, feeling Shikadai's fury burning behind her, holding back from involving the others in the discussion.

"What do all these secrets mean? Don't think I'm an idiot who doesn't know what's going on! I know perfectly what you are capable of!"

"Nara-kun, shut up!" The woman snapped at him in a high-pitched whisper. 

However, the young man was burning with anger, his shrill voice and piercing eyes making Mirai's temple throb.

"No! I won't let you leave without telling me where you're going!" Shikadai's words came out like a high-pitched roar as tears welled up in his eyes. 

Mirai couldn't bear to see Shikadai in that state. She felt caught in a cruel dilemma, torn between the need to protect children from the truth and genuine concern for Shikadai's well-being.

For one thing, he couldn't reveal the true nature of his mission. He knew that, if Shikadai and the others found out, their worry might lead them to take impulsive actions that would put them in danger. But on the other hand, I couldn't bear to see him cry and get angry like that.

The Great Elder's voice, this time, resounded with greater authority and decision:

"Shikadai, this is an adult business. Mirai has to leave for important reasons... It's a bit delicate."

Shikadai seemed to stagger at his grandmother's words, but his determination did not waver. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and, with a defiant look, replied:

"Then why don't you tell me where you're going? I won't stand here without knowing anything."

Mirai watched Shikadai, his mind working at full speed in search of an answer that would protect his secret and reassure the boy. The tension in the air was palpable, with all eyes on her.

However, Shikadai's motives for intervening in Mirai's secret departure were deeply emotionally charged.

"You've always been negligent when it comes to feelings, that's very typical of you." She said furiously, her green eyes throwing darts at Mirai's back, demanding answers. A tone that resonated with despair seeped through his anger. "We're in the past, and we're all doing everything we can to avoid ending up like our parents. Do you think I'll stay here, listening to the same thing over and over again, while you fade away for days? Who do you think you're dealing with, Mirai?"

Mirai's silence persisted until the desert wind emitted an audible whisper. Shikadai's anger was understandable, even to herself.

Although lying to them meant protecting them for her, she knew that it would not be the same for everyone. Especially for Shikadai, who wasn't known for ignoring his surroundings and letting problems go, even if they involved him.

It was no surprise that he was the one here, expressing his displeasure palpably in front of a silent Mirai.

With each sincere scream, the oppressive cold faded, and Mirai left behind the doubt that had initially held her back. She watched the ascent that would take her outside, just a few steps away. He had made a promise, and in order to keep it, he had to accomplish certain things, even if it meant facing discomfort.

The old woman remained serene, only frowning slightly to remind the Nara to remain discreet. Although he seemed on the verge of explosion, frowning, he restrained himself to give Mirai a chance to be honest with him.

I expected a clear and understandable answer, something simple that I could participate in, as it used to be when Mirai was leading. However, the response he received was completely different from what he expected. Her father's student blurted out a few simple words:

"Return to the shelter."

Shikadai blinked a few times, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. The Mirai I knew had never been so cold and distant.

Her short answers and defiant attitude were unknown to him. He tried to find some sign in her gaze, but Mirai wasn't looking him in the eye, which only made him even more unnerved.

Mirai reaffirmed her resolve without even turning to look at him. His voice, full of seriousness, resounded in the cold desert air:

"Either you come back by yourself, or I'll make you come back."

The torrent of burning anger flooded Shikadai from the depths of his being. Fury rose from his throat as he looked at Mirai in disbelief. His voice sounded harsh and full of frustration as he replied:

"Who the hell do you think you are? Since when have you acted like this?!"

Mirai was silent, offering no answer.

"You're not the only one who worries about what will happen if we stay here. We all do it! But..."

Shikamaru's son stopped, desperately hoping to receive at least a look of absolute sincerity. However, when facing the same cold air, his blood boiled even more, and his eyes burned under the pressure.

"What makes you think that you can make decisions for us without consulting us?! Do you think you can carry all the weight in the world just because you were my father's student?!"

Shikadai's tone was defiant, but it also carried with it a hint of pain and confusion. For days he had watched Mirai, noticing her strange behavior and secret conversations with the old woman.

Tension had been rising, and Shikadai had finally exploded.

As Shikadai's words filled the air, the old lady's two subordinates exchanged nervous glances. The atmosphere became even more tense, as if they were standing in the middle of an emotional battlefield.

Finally, Mirai turned to Shikadai, her eyes meeting his. Despite his previous determination, there was a glint of pain in his eyes.

"You don't understand, Shikadai. I can't allow all of you to get involved in this. There are things they do not know, dangers that do not concern them alone... Let me take care of this." Mirai explained with a firmness full of concern. 

Shikadai's face became a storm of emotions in full swing. His eyes widened so wide that it looked like he could swallow the entire horizon. His mouth parted in a grimace of amazement and rage, and for a moment, his mind was flooded with fuzzy memories.

He recalled the death of his father, Shikamaru, who had passed away in his arms while entrusting Mirai with a task. Even though a lot of time had passed, that image was still haunting him, and the feeling of helplessness he had experienced at that moment tormented him in his nightmares.

He also remembered his mother, whose death had been a mystery that had never been fully solved.

The last time he saw her, she had been ill from grim circumstances, and Shikadai blamed himself for not treating her.

His friends, Inojin and Chou Chou, were in the shelter, and Shikadai had watched as their faces grew duller and duller.

Concern for them had also added to his growing anger.

And then, Moegi-sensei, his beloved teacher, who had died in the line of duty. All of this had left a deep mark on him, and now he found himself angry at how all of this had affected those he loved.

"And you do?! How much do you know about the outside world if you're also a refugee?!" Shikadai exploded, using strong, direct language to express his frustration at Mirai's apparent arrogance. 

In the tense atmosphere, when it seemed that the situation was on the verge of exploding into a fight, Mirai's backpack fell heavily to the ground, breaking the silence with a thud. Everyone present tensed, the old woman and her subordinates ready to intervene in case of need.

Mirai advanced towards Shikadai with determination, grabbing him by the shoulders firmly. His red eyes flashed with a vengeful intensity, projecting an imposing and menacing figure as he spoke in a stern tone.

"No, I have no idea how cruel the world can be. None of us know! Because we were raised in an era of peace!"

Her words echoed in the air, shocking Shikadai, who looked at her in surprise, the darkness clouding his face.

"All that doesn't exist anymore, and if I stay here playing happy family, without having the slightest idea of how to face the past world, we'll all face another cataclysm. Many of your friends will die if I don't do the right thing. Do you want that to happen? Inojin-kun? ChouChou-chan? Boruto-kun?"

Mirai continued, her voice losing the intensity of a scream, but maintaining its severity. 

Shikadai's heart pounded in his chest, his emotions stirred by Mirai's words. The old woman tried to intervene, but silence had taken over the place. All stood cold and frozen, while Shikadai stood paralyzed under Mirai's piercing gaze.

"I won't ask you to understand, I'm demanding it." Mirai said firmly, her eyes no longer shining in the same way, but they were still threatening. "Your duty as Chunin is to take care of the lower ranks. Therefore, it is your duty to maintain control in my absence. You're smart enough to know what's at stake if there's a stir among others. Don't let anyone know, and collaborate with grandma."

Shikadai remained frozen, his mind and body in a state of turbulence. His hands trembled slightly, his anger still present despite the intense conversation. Mirai gave her one last stern nod, and Shikadai could feel the weight of his gaze on her back as she walked away.

Even though her words were soft, Mirai's tone resonated firmly. Shikadai watched her as she put on her backpack, feeling helpless and restless.

Her fists clenched tightly, her lips pursed, and her brow furrowed as she watched her walk away. A mixture of emotions came over him, and he didn't know how to process everything that had just happened.

Mirai stood with her back to him, the old woman, and her subordinates, in a tense silence. Shikadai had the feeling that his actions spoke of iron determination, but at the same time, he detected a deep confusion and internal conflict in his rigid posture.

Shikadai's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he recoiled, accepting the harsh reality of his situation. He had desperately wanted to do something for his parents, to complete what their deaths had left in the air, to be useful as a ninja. He was a Chunin, and his duty was not to sit back, waiting to be protected.

However, he felt limited by fear and uncertainty about what awaited them outside. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him as he returned to the side of the old lady and her subordinates.

He never believed that the eleven-year-old Boruto, a student at the Academy and in need of attention and prominence, would be the spitting image of his current feelings; a reflection of what Shikadai would feel just half a year later.

The old woman, with her eyes fixed on the emotional storm that gripped Shikadai, decided to break the awkward silence. His voice, serene but full of wisdom, echoed in the air:

"Shikadai, I understand your frustration and your desire to protect your friends. However, Mirai carries a weight that you may not be able to fully comprehend. She has made this decision for reasons known only to her."

Shikadai nodded regretfully, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as Mirai's figure walked away with his backpack full of secrets and responsibilities.

"I hope that one day you will be able to understand his choice, even if you do not approve of it. For now, we must continue our duty and fulfill our responsibilities in the shelter. Everyone's safety depends on it."

With a resigned sigh, Shikadai turned to follow the old woman and her subordinates back to the shelter. As they advanced, the image of Mirai was left behind, but her words echoed in Shikadai's mind.

That day, in the midst of the desert and uncertainty, Shikadai had faced a painful truth: being a Chunin did not guarantee that he would always be able to protect those he loved, nor did it grant him the right to do so.

The fragility of life and the difficult decisions that ninjas had to make became more and more apparent.

As he walked to the shelter, Shikadai knew that despite everything, he was still just a child. Although he had been born into Konoha's mind, he had learned that he still had much to discover about the world and about himself.