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Sasuke was used to the nightmares. The revolting smells and boiling red which haunted him during what most considered a peaceful time, were not things that bothered him so much anymore. Seeing his parents’ corpses fall before him and Itachi’s bloodied eyes watching him from the darkness hardly shook him but instead simply left him staring at the black ceiling of his bedroom, quiet and still so as not to wake his slumbering lover beside him.
Sakura was kind, too kind for someone like him. She woke easily and would refuse to return to her own, likely much sweeter, dreams until Sasuke himself was under sleep’s powerful spell once again. Sasuke was a wonderful actor, if nothing else. He would lay, eyes closed, and relax under the woman’s gentle touch as she stroked his fine hair and whispered sweet nothings to him. And after awhile, Sakura would tire and her tender caresses would slow until they finally stopped and all that was left to comfort Sasuke was Sakura’s soft breathing cutting through the thickness of the night.
So no, Sasuke was no stranger to the twisted games the mind liked to play in the night but he had never, above anything else, wanted his daughter to experience such misery.
Sarada was a strong child, fiery and stubborn like her mother, but reserved and calculating in a manner that was definitely all her father. It was the combination of these qualities that lead Sasuke into false security when his daughter had been assigned her first official mission as a genin.
Sarada came home with a blinding smile, something else she inherited from Sakura, and she chatted excitedly about this huge milestone in her career as a shinobi. The girl was quite overcome with emotion that Sasuke half expected her to burst right there at the dinner table.
Having, quite regretfully, missed twelve years of his only child’s life, Sasuke was determined to now fill the role of the supportive father. So with a firm pat on the head and a barely there grin, he sent her off, fully trusting in her ability to handle herself should anything go awry. It was a simple D rank mission though, an easy escort for a merchant, Sasuke hadn’t been expecting anything to happen. He should have known better.
Receiving the frantic phone call from Sakura had been, perhaps, the most frightening moment of his life. Sasuke was off on that particular day and he was preparing to spar with Naruto during the Hokage’s lunch break. It was so rare that he was able to see his best friend these days that Sasuke almost ignored the blaring ring of the telephone as he was about to step out. But something felt strange and he couldn’t quite explain what it was. So he answered the phone and his heart dropped as his wife’s sobbing voice echoed through the line.
Dropping everything, Sasuke arrived at the hospital in under three minutes. He met Sakura at the door and followed closely at her back, anger bubbling nearly uncontrollably in his chest. This was his worst nightmare bleeding into reality, as if he was trapped in someone’s cruel genjutsu. But he knew he wasn’t.
He arrived at Sarada’s room with clenched teeth and a balled fist. Sakura laid a hand on his arm and squeezed reassuringly but her expression was painted with worry and distress. This couldn’t be happening. But it was.
There, bundled up like a precious package, beneath blankets and stuck with an IV, was his daughter. He was at her side in two long strides, placing his hand on her forehead. He could feel her life energy, it was stable and strong. She wasn’t in danger anymore. He relaxed, but only slightly.
Sakura soon joined him at their daughter’s side, a sad frown on her face. Sakura explained to him how their child had ended up in such a condition.
“It was an ambush.” Sakura explained, her voice wobbling as if something was caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. “The merchant was a part of a terrorist organization, a possible branch off of the Akatsuki.” Sasuke winced but let his wife continue. “Their targets were Sarada and Boruto. They intended to kidnap them for ransom and kill Mitsuki and Konohamaru.”
There was no word fit to express the dark fury swirling inside Sasuke at that moment as he listened to the intentions of the attackers. Staring down at Sarada’s sleeping face, his eyes zeroed in on the purple and red bruise coloring her right cheek. Someone had struck her, hard enough to discolor her milky white skin so drastically. He was pissed.
“Is Boruto alright?” He asked instead, trying to distract himself.
Sakura nodded, “Thankfully, yes. He was a bit shaken up but Naruto was able to take him home right away.” Sakura paused, her mouth open as if she wanted to continue.
“What is it?” Sasuke asked, noticing her hesitance.
Sakura bit her lip, something she always did when she was stressed or puzzled. “Before Naruto took him home, Boruto told me something, something that Sarada did.”
Sasuke raised his eyebrow, not quite sure where this was going, but curious. “What did he say?”
Sakura’s face dropped and she sat on the edge of Sarada’s bed, grasping the girl’s limp hand and sighing. “He said that she saved Mitsuki’s life. She killed one of the attackers right before he was about to slit the boy’s throat.”
Sasuke instantly understood Sakura’s hesitance and frowned. Again, the dark and wild rage began to rise within him. Taking a life so young left a scar, he knew that. Sarada, a measly twelve years old, was forced to kill, forced to watch the life drain from another’s eyes and the blood leak at her feet. He would never forgive the scum who forced his daughter to do such a thing.
“Where are these people?” Sasuke asked, deathly calm.
Sakura eyed him cautiously before answering, “Two of them are in custody and under interrogation.”
“And the others?”
“Dead.”
Silence blanketed the room as the mother and father sat diligently watching over their daughter. It wasn’t until several hours later that Sarada’s lids began to flutter wildly and her fingers twitch. Sasuke recognized these physical signs instantly and rushed to comfort his ailing child, gently moving Sakura aside.
Whimpering, Sarada twisted almost violently in her blankets, eyes screwed shut and mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Sasuke acted quickly and grabbed her hand, leaning down until his lips brushed against her ear.
“It’s alright, Sarada. Papa’s here. You are safe. Papa is here.” He whispered different variations of these comforts until she settled and her breathing was once again deep and calm.
Sakura met his gaze, hers devastated and his darkly furious.
XXXX
Bringing Sarada home was as much a relief as it was intense. The child was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to her formerly lighthearted self, and it scared both parents something fierce.
Sakura took a few days off from the hospital to watch over Sarada and Sasuke asked for leave from active duty for the next couple weeks, which Naruto granted sympathetically and without hesitation, only commenting that he wished he could do the same for Boruto.
Sasuke spent as much time as he could with Sarada, although that time was usually spent in empty silence. Sarada had no intention of speaking and Sakura’s medical advice was to her allow this time to reflect and work out her emotions on her own.
“We’ll only upset her more if we probe before she’s ready to talk.” Sakura insisted when Sasuke had mentioned that it was time to discuss what had happened. “She’s in a delicate mental state right now and we need to tread carefully.”
Sasuke understood that, he really did. He had received basic mental health training, particularly after the massacre. One thing that was stressed was that it was not wise to force a victim or sufferer to talk about their problems before they were ready. Sasuke found this valid, but only to a certain extent. Allowing his daughter to wallow and fade away into an empty shell was not acceptable, no matter what Sakura’s medical texts had to say.
Two weeks later, when Sarada woke screaming, that was the last straw.
Sasuke hurried to his daughter’s room, just barely convincing Sakura to stay in bed and let him deal with tonight’s tortures. The two of them had barely gotten any sleep since the ‘incident’ and a permanent pair of purple rings were beginning to form under Sakura’s eyes from lack of proper rest.
Entering Sarada’s bedroom slowly so as not to scare the trembling ball in the center of the room, Sasuke approached the pink decorated bed. It wasn’t until Sasuke arrived at the bed’s edge and he saw the shining streaks of familiar liquid pouring down her cheeks that he realized how far he had let this go on without acting.
That was a mistake on his part, a failing. He should have never left Sarada to sort through these conflicting and confusing emotions on her own. Sasuke feared that his mishandling of the situation may have damaged his child beyond repair. But seeing as he was never one to give up, Sasuke swooped down like a hawk, cradling Sarada in the crook of his arm. It was time to counteract the harm he had unintentionally caused.
“P-papa?” Sarada cried out, her body practically melted in his embrace as she drove into his chest, hiding her damp face from the frightful darkness that surrounded them. “Papa!”
“I’m here.” He whispered, stroking her back kindly and she heaved with sobs. “Papa’s here and I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“There’s s-so much blood!” She choked out, “It was everywhere!”
Seeing Sarada like this, seeing her crumble, was heart breaking. He never wanted this, he never wanted his child to be forced through the horror of murder, not so young at least. Being a shinobi came with the inevitable fact that one day, you would have to kill. But not yet, not yet, it wasn’t fair to her, to be robbed of innocence so young. It wasn’t right and this world was so cruel.
Leaning back against the comically small headboard of Sarada’s bed, Sasuke brought her tiny body as close as he could to his own, letting her know that he was there, physically, to protect her and, mentally, to comfort her.
“Tell me about it.” He encouraged gently, his voice just barely above a whisper.
Sarada shook her head violently, her fingers grasping his night shirt tighter and turning her knuckles white. “I don’t want to!” Her tone said the opposite of her words. There was desperation to relieve herself of this lonesome burden she had bared for far too long. Sasuke was here to share it now.
“What did he look like?” Sasuke asked, Sarada quivered and she felt so small.
“Tall,” She trailed off but Sasuke stroked her hair to encourage her to continue. It seemed to work. “He was tall and-and had black hair.” She spoke quickly as if any moment her voice would fail her and these details would be lost forever. “He used genjutsu on Mitsuki and Konohamaru-sensei, they didn’t even get a chance to fight back! And then-and then they grabbed Boruto by his hair and he was screaming and it just all happened so fast, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do!”
Sasuke watched with growing concern as Sarada’s eyes glazed over, dull and gray, trapped in the traumatizing moment she had relived so many times over and over. Slowly realizing that this had gone too far, Sasuke boosted Sarada up on his lap and squeezed her to his chest, reassuring her that she was not there. She was home and safe in her father’s arm.
Sensing his presence, Sarada calmed considerably, her breath hitching and tears still coming but her voice no longer frantic.
“He was going to kill Mitsuki.” Sarada whispered, her voice haunted. “He was going to kill him and I was the only one who could stop him.”
“And you did.” Sasuke reminded, giving Sarada a firm but tender shake. “You saved Mitsuki, you did what you had to and you saved your comrade.”
“But I killed him.” And thus, the root of the problem was laid out like a bare and exposed nerve, fresh and stinging.
Guilt was something that always usually went hand in hand with the snuffing of another’s life. It was not easy, despite the many years a shinobi may have under their belt, the killing never grew easier and it always hurt just as much as the first. Each face was carved into the memory, a ghostly and eternal reminder of the unpleasant act.
“And you will never forget that.” Sasuke would not lie to his daughter like he had been lied to. “You will be able to recall his face in ten, twenty, and fifty years from now. His face will still be there, in your dreams.” Sasuke felt it was important to be honest about this, it wasn’t fair to offer false comfort. “But, you are alive. You are alive and so is Mitsuki and Boruto and Konohamaru. You are alive and I would, without a single doubt or second thought, rather have my daughter alive and in my arms than that scum still scouring the earth somewhere.”
A comfortable silence fell between the father and daughter pair for a long while. So long in fact that a warm pink glow was beginning to bath the room as the sun started creeping over the mountains and splashing Konoha’s streets with dim morning light. At this point, Sasuke assumed Sarada and escaped into a dreamless sleep and he was content to stay right there with her breathing against his chest. His eyes gradually slid shut and Sasuke felt himself losing grip with the waking world as his mind settled.
However, just as Sasuke was about to release his last grasp on consciousness, a tiny voice roused him ever so gently.
“I love you, papa. I’m glad you’re home.”
An uncharacteristic smile broke over Sasuke’s face, though he would deny the tender expression ever happened to anyone if they asked, he did have some small manner of reputation to uphold after all. Reaching awkwardly, trying not to jostle his daughter, he pressed two fingers to her forehead before falling asleep easily with his child’s comforting weight at his side.