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Sarada was just starting to feel like she was able to strike a balance.
Her father had been coming home more frequently and for longer periods of time, which made her mother very happy. Her team was taking on important missions and her skills were noticeably improving. The teenage years were never easy, but she came to feel like she had a somewhat stable foundation to grow on.
But her cautiously planted roots were ripped out when her mother announced that she was pregnant. What the fuck?
At first, Sarada was grossed out because she knew how babies were made and just ew.
But after the initial shock wore off Sarada became rather...disgruntled. She didn’t understand why until more time passed. Everyone else was happy — surprised, but definitely happy. Another Uchiha! A joyous occasion, right?
She watched her father stay home like a dutiful family man, watched him turn down missions as Sakura’s pregnancy went further along. Apparently, he had made enough progress to hand off responsibility to others for a while. She watched her mother take time off from the hospital and actually let someone else take care of her. She watched her parents fuss over the smallest of things together, like pacifiers and strollers. She watched them work as a team.
She watched them do all the things she wished she had seen growing up.
No one else would understand. Most of her friends didn’t have siblings. Boruto was, well, an idiot and Himawari was an angel. He was probably too young (or, the right age) to remember harboring any bad feelings towards his baby sister.
Her father had a brother, but Sasuke was also the adored younger sibling, so no, he wouldn’t understand either.
The first time she let herself cry about it was at night in the shower. She cried ugly tears, full of emotion and confusion. Why the hell was a baby getting her so upset? Eventually, she cleaned herself up and tucked away her feelings, trading them for the exhaustion that makes itself known in the wake of a good cry. She bid her parents goodnight and they didn’t suspect a thing.
The baby’s impending arrival was what finally pushed her parents to find a new house instead of dawdling at their apartment for any longer. The extra space was welcome and it would be nice to have more permanent decorations. But Sarada’s conception of home was also a little shaken up in the process. Her sibling would have a childhood bedroom to fill with toys and memories, while her room was somewhat barren. Sarada only pinned a picture of her and Chocho up to the wall before giving up.
Moving went relatively quickly with all their shinobi friends’ help. Unpacking took longer, but Sarada could tell her parents were eager to settle in by how quickly they tried to get everything out of boxes.
“Sarada! Come in here!” Her mother sat on the floor of the nursery surrounded by a couple big boxes labeled as “Sarada’s baby stuff.” She spent hours awwing at all of her old clothes and toys. “This was your first onesie,” Sakura explained happily as she held up a small scrap of white cloth. “I’m so glad we kept all of this, it’s still perfectly usable.”
It felt weird knowing this stuff was once hers yet she didn’t feel much of a connection to any of it. She dug through the boxes and eventually found a small, soft cloth. It was a faded pink color and made of fuzzy fabric.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, your favorite blankie! You used to carry that thing with you everywhere. Until one day your dad told you to stop sucking your thumb, so you did but you dropped the blankie too. He’s no fun, you looked cute with your little thumb and your blankie.” Sakura looked longingly at some of the baby pictures in the box. “Look how cute and small you were! The most adorable baby in all of Konoha, trust me.”
Sarada ran her fingers over the smooth fabric of the blanket. She set it aside next to her instead of putting it back in the box or the growing piles closer to her mother.
Sakura noticed, “Eh? What are you gonna do with that?”
Sarada shrugged, looking at nothing in particular on the ground. “I’ll keep it.”
Her mother smiled a little and patted her own stomach, “Okay then. We can always buy the baby its own blankie.”
By the time they’re finished rifling through the boxes, it was s time for dinner. Sakura thanked her for the help and gathered her into a hug. Even though her stomach wasn’t that big yet, Sarada angled her hips to be standing without her body pressed against her mother. She shrugged and mumbled, “You’re welcome.” It wasn’t a big deal. Just some boxes.
She hears them whispering about her when they think she’s asleep. She might have even said something to them that night if they weren’t already discussing it.
“Can you try talking to her? She keeps brushing me off.” Sakura had made plenty of “my baby isn’t a baby anymore, but will always be my baby” comments with good intent, but Sarada would just roll her eyes.
Sasuke’s version of talking to her was taking her to train first thing in the morning. Sarada gave it all she had and the results were a little startling. She had always been gifted and a hard worker, but her vicious intensity was giving him reason to worry.
Sasuke monitored her and corrected when necessary; sometimes he would demonstrate and share stories from his younger days with more openness than she realized.
She had been so caught up in funneling her rage and confusion into training that she didn’t realize just how long they spent training each day. Sasuke had all but told Boruto to fuck off so he could spend all his time with his daughter.
“Let’s take a break,” Sasuke declared when Sarada had razed enough trees with her jutsu.
“I can keep going,” she reassured him. She stumbled when she stood up from a crouch, but tried to play it off.
“I’m sure you can. But it’s lunchtime.” He turned and started walking out of the training ground, expecting her to follow. As if on cue, Sarada’s stomach growled. She grumbled while trailing after her father; sometimes it really was true that parents know best.
As Sakura’s due date grew closer, Sarada became somewhat horrified by pregnancy and everything that comes with it. Not only was she starting to grow tired of so much attention placed on this new baby, but she hated seeing her mother suffer.
“Was it..was it like this with me?” Sarada hedged while rubbing her mother’s back, which always seemed to be aching now.
“Oh no,” Sakura said with a light laugh, “you were such an easy baby to carry. Maybe this is my karma. I was able to walk all around the world with you just fine.” That made Sarada relax a little. This pregnancy was definitely much harder. How could this little baby make the strongest person she knew so weak?
Sakura ran a tight ship at the hospital, and her absence was making itself known. Inojin had mentioned in passing that his mom was putting in so many extra hours at the hospital that he barely saw her anymore. Sarada’s brow furrowed. Stupid baby, inconveniencing so many people already.
When her brother is finally born two days late he’s loud and soft and chubby and impossibly small — everything a baby should be. He’s born in the comfort of the hospital his mother poured her heart into and anyone who’s anyone comes to wish the newborn well.
“Look Sasuke-kun! He kinda looks like me already.”
“Hm, maybe. He has my nose.”
Sarada rolled her eyes. He was just born and looked like an alien. She says out loud, “Don’t you think he’ll look like me? ” Her parents laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, but really, she was standing right there. They already had her.
They returned home ready to start a new routine. Or something.
Sarada would be out of the house soon enough. By the time her brother became a genin, she’d be in her twenties. That was..older than her parents when they had her. She could even be his instructor.
As she stood in the doorway and watched her mother change a diaper, she knew there were now two separate families within one, and she would never fully be part of this new world.
She couldn’t help the jealousy burning behind her eyes. She resented him for being able to have everything she didn’t while growing up. She used to always rely on her mother, but even Sakura’s time was often occupied by her duties as a medical ninja. Now when would she ever get those precious mother-daughter moments?
“Is anything ever going back to normal?” Sarada asked one day while they relaxed in the living room.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it, dear!” Sakura answered cheerfully. She assumed Sarada was overwhelmed by the new baby and her father being home all the time; it had usually just been the two of them. “How about I make your favorite dinner tomorrow? Would you like that?”
Sarada sighed. She was growing more and more independent, being a kunoichi had afforded her that long ago. It wasn’t about someone cooking for her or telling her she did well today or giving her all of their time. It was just —
“Why couldn’t you have planned this earlier? Why couldn’t Dad stay home before? Why does it have to be like this?” She’s old enough to know that hating someone for existing is wrong, bad, shameful. But she feels like a temporary visitor within her own family now.
“Sarada? What’s wrong?” Both her parents wore alarmed and surprised expressions. They had assumed she was fine with it, even if it would take some getting used to.
Everything that she had been struggling with came pouring out. She’s sobbing and can barely get her words out without hiccuping, “Was I not enough? Did you hope you’d have a boy the first time around? Are you trying to replace me?”
Sakura rushed to reassure her. “You were totally planned. We knew we wanted a baby together and luckily, we got you with no problems. Please believe me when I say you’re everything we ever wanted.”
The part of Sarada that loved love stories and craved to know more about her parents’ relationship lit up momentarily. Traveling together and deciding to get married and have a kid? Rather romantic, she must admit.
“But..but why didn’t you plan this too?” she sniffed. She wouldn’t have minded a sibling if they came along years ago.
“You can’t plan everything, dear. Having a new baby in the house is certainly an adjustment, but there’s room in all of our hearts for one more member of the family. You know, the Uchiha clan is known for loving harder than any other.”
“Really?”
Sasuke knew Sarada was deeply interested in their clan history, so he spoke up to offer a bit of information. “It’s true. That’s why our eyes are so powerful. They evolve with strong emotions, including love.” Sarada wipes her face as she digests the new information. Could her heart stretch anymore?
The moment is broken when the sound of a baby’s cries pierce the air. Sakura squeezes Sarada’s wrist apologetically and goes to attend to the newborn.
Sasuke stays. “I’m sorry,” Sarada mumbles, “I don’t mean to stress you and Mom out.” Their conversation made her feel a bit better, but she was still emotional. She wouldn’t be able to flip a switch on her feelings and wake up with a new outlook on life.
“You’ll be his hero,” he tells her. “He’ll look up to you, listen to you more than us. I can’t say I understand how it feels to be the first, I was always the one trailing behind. It’s not your fault,” he clarifies as he pulls her into a hug, “but there doesn’t have to be so much distance.”
That night she dreams of someone who looks an awful lot like her copying her every move.
She’s halfway out the door to train on her own when her brother cries from inside the nursery, and she rolls her eyes. She’s about to call out for her mom when she sees her fast asleep on the couch. She had knocked out while folding laundry. Was this baby a blessing or a burden?
Her dad is out getting groceries, so it’s up to her to attend to the baby. Exasperated, she marches over, hoping he can be quieted with a bottle. Each step is filled with frustration, growing until she’s nearly stomping through the house. Her mother must be truly exhausted to sleep through this.
Her little brother can already recognize her face and he perks up when she leans over his crib, smiling his sweet smile. He was innocent. He didn’t ask to be born, let alone to be born into the complicated Uchiha clan. And yet —
“I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you,” she says thickly.
By the time she walks away from the crib, her brother is no longer crying and another tomoe has blazed to life in each of her eyes.