Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sarada wasn’t stupid. In fact, she was number one in her class. She was even doing better than the Hokage’s son, for goodness sake.

Growing up as a ninja, you’re trained to be observant of your surroundings, of people and their intent. You have to be able to sense things that don’t take physical form, to be presented with a hundred things at once and remember them all. Because if you don’t, you and your team will die.

Sarada is not only smart, but also realistic.

She doesn’t see her father often. She met him for the first time when she was eleven, that one time when she and Chouchou left the village on a search for Chouchou’s (but really Sarada’s) dad. It had been weird, seeing what the Hokage had since referred to as “classic team 7” in action. Sarada didn’t know what to feel about a father that interacted with the people she looked up to, a father than was so plainly adored by the Hokage.

Ever since then, she’d just see him every so often. It usually wasn’t intentional on anyone's part – she’d run into him around the village, or she’d go visit the Hokage (because he actually acted like a father, unlike some people) only to find him there talking with the Seventh like it was completely normal.

But it didn’t matter. Every time she saw him, she avoided him. And if they ever accidentally made eye contact, they would both turn away and go about their own business.

Sometimes her father would come to the house to speak with mom. She’d get all flustered and embarrassed and happy, and he would stay stoic and cold the entire time. Sarada was happy that her mom could look at his awful face and smile, because lord knows Sarada never would.

It was on one such visit that they finally interacted. It was early, before dawn had even broken. Sarada woke to a knock on the front door. She'd always been a light sleeper due to her extensive training regimen.

Sarada crept out of her room and to the front staircase. Mom was blushing and looking around the entryway, concerned that on one of father’s rare visits home he would find something to his dissatisfaction. Even if he did, it wasn't like he'd mention it.

Father asked after the state of the village as he toed off his shoes. Mom went off on a tangent about Auntie and her latest antics with Uncle Sai. Sarada was watching from the staircase, hiding behind the banister but entirely aware of her father's capabilities as a ninja. He probably knew she was there, and the thought just irritated her even more.

Her mom kept up the conversation, carrying it alone as the two of them walked away into the living room. Sarada crept down the stairs, treading lightly and measuring her breaths. She moved to the doorway to the living room and peered around the door frame. She saw that mom had moved into the kitchen to prepare tea, chattering away with her back to the living room. From the look on his face, father wasn’t paying any attention.

No, he was too busy staring Sarada down from his place reclined against the couch.

She scowled at having been discovered so easily. He met her expectations, and she hated it. She knew he was a world class ninja, equally as strong as the Hokage even. But... still.

Her father raised an eyebrow at her. He didn’t want to tip mom off that she was awake, which was for the best. The moment mom discovered her was the moment this all ended. Sarada only had minutes, maybe a few moments, until her mom eventually turned back to look at her awful husband. Sarada had to be fast, had to convey her complicated thoughts and emotions as efficiently and succinctly as possible.

She stared her father down, and lifted her middle finger.

He looked completely taken aback, obviously not expecting anything like that. Well, if he thought she was going to be as sweet and docile as mom, then he’d better reevaluate himself.

Sarada turned and walked away, no longer trying to hide her footfalls. Mom had been out of the field for so long that she wouldn’t have heard a stampede of cattle bust down the front door. As long as father was home, mom was happily oblivious.

That was the moment that Sarada and her father’s relationship changed, from one of non-interference to something… else.

Chapter Text

Sarada was sick of these immature children. She couldn’t wait to be older, because then she could talk with males who were actually people, and not boys. Maybe somewhere out in the world there were normal, well-adjusted guys her age who also liked books and weight training. But they sure weren’t in Konoha, that was for sure.

All the boys in her class were horrible. They just laughed at farts and teased girls and drooled all over Sarada’s stuff (Boruto swears it never happened, but the water-wrinkled edge of Sarada’s notebook says otherwise).

She was so angry. At not only the boys who made fun of her, but also at herself for caring about their taunts. Stomping down the street, eyes angled down, she resolutely refused to cry over the words of idiots.

Talking with someone would help. It was the healthy thing to do. Bottling things up and repressing feelings never helped anyone.

Once she’d made the mistake of telling Auntie Ino about the bullying. She’d waved off her feelings and told her to get used to the teasing, because Uchihas were always fawned over in school. Although she was used to it by now, it didn’t sit well with Sarada to be compared to her father so casually.

But even worse than that, apparently the insults meant that the boys liked her. If this was what it meant to be liked, then Sarada didn’t want to think about what’d happen if she was hated.

The mistake hadn't been talking about it to someone, it had been choosing Auntie Ino of all people.

A realization made her stop in her tracks. Yes, this village was full of idiots. But there was one idiot that only acted like one. And if Sarada was being honest, and if her mom was to be believed, he wasn’t very good at pretending to be something he obviously wasn’t.

She started running, bolting down alleyways as she held in her relieved smile. She didn’t have to deal with this on her own!

She went straight to the heart of Konoha, coming upon the Hokage Tower and slowing down, not wanting to make anyone suspicious. Sure they all knew her by now, but the last thing she wanted was to be rushed by overprotective guards that were just doing their job (like the Hokage even needed guards, anyway).

Mr. Shikamaru waved her on by. The Hokage wasn’t in any meetings, just doing paperwork. And he’d probably welcome the distraction, so she could go right on ahead.

With a smile and a thanks, Sarada went down the hall. She wiped at her eyes, making sure that no unshed tears were still hanging around.

She knocked lightly on the large wooden door, opening it upon hearing a soft, “Come in.”

The Hokage looked confused for a moment, then grinned at her. “Sarada, what a surprise! I was expecting someone else, but this is much better. Come in, please!”

She closed the door behind her and walked to stand in front of the large desk taking up a good amount of the room. It took her a moment to realize she was smiling, but she didn’t try to hide it. What was the point in hiding your happiness, really?

“How are you doing today, Hokage-sama?”

“I keep telling you,” he mock-complained. “You can just call me Hokage, or Seventh, or anything like that. You make me feel so old!”

The Hokage looked… tired, really. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual, and even though his hair was short it somehow still looked messy. But even though it was a tired one, the Hokage wore a welcoming smile for her like always.

“Hokage-sama –” she nearly laughed at the exaggerated sigh. “I was wondering if you needed any help with paperwork.”

His smile slipped away. “Oh, really? Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the nice day or something?”

She fidgeted in place under the scrutiny. No, he really wasn’t an idiot like people said (fondly). “I had the time, so…”

“Ah, that’s how it is!” His wide smile was back. “Well you know you’re always welcome in my office! You make the paperwork go by so much faster.”

Sarada pulled up a chair in front of the large desk as the Hokage cleared a space for her. They did this sometimes. One time Sarada had needed the company of an adult that wasn’t delusional like mom, and so she’d taken the Hokage up on his suggestion to stop by. He’d offered it back during the fiasco when Sarada had first met her father.

A few months ago they accidentally discovered Sarada’s talent for busywork. She’d read a form upside-down and corrected the Hokage’s comments in the margins. They were both shocked – Sarada at having been so precocious, and the Hokage at having missed an obvious detail on a routine mission log.

To be fair, the Hokage overworked himself a lot. Boruto’s louds complaints and the constant dark circles under the Hokage’s eyes were proof enough.

Ever since then she’d stop by every so often, mostly on bad days, accepting the Hokage’s pleas for help. He claimed that she was saving him from the sea of paperwork he was always drowning in. Sarada believed there’d never been a Hokage as dramatic as the Seventh in the entire history of the Leaf Village.

And so Sarada was sitting, her chair in its usual spot across from the Hokage’s, with the desk and mounds of paperwork in between them. They chatted like normal, Sarada commenting that classes were too slow and the Hokage reminiscing about his own struggles to keep up when he’d been in school.

She was just about to express her disbelief, that there was no way the Hokage ever struggled with something as basic as shadow clones, when the door to the office opened. In Sarada’s mind, the pleasant atmosphere was sucked right out the door.

“Seventh, do you have any idea –” Her father stopped in his tracks, eyes boring into her own. Her eyes narrowed into a glare as she watched him take in the entire scene before him.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been at the other end her preferred finger. Boruto was a bad influence on her, but she didn't regret the friendship when it had made her father look so... emotive.

He’d made his choice, training Boruto for the Chunin exams over his own daughter. Boruto had definitely needed the help far more than she had, but the decision still left her mouth twisting down into a scowl.

“Better late than never, I guess,” the Hokage laughed, standing to greet him. “Sarada just stopped by to help me out with some paperwork.” The man was grinning, obviously unaware of the tension between parent and child. Obviously unaware that having two Uchihas in the same room wasn’t a normal occurrence.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. Sarada definitely didn’t like how similar the expression looked to her own. The Hokage’s constant claim of “But you’re so much alike!” suddenly made sense.

Well, at least she had her glasses. Neither of her parents had glasses.

She adjusted them on her nose just as her father asked, “What’s she doing your paperwork for? She’s a child.”

It was a statement of fact, and facts are objective. They’re indisputable, unemotional. Facts can’t hurt because there can’t be any implications of judgement behind them. That’s what she told herself as she turned back to the papers in front of her, shoulders stiff and fists balled on her thighs.

The Hokage was too observant. “It goes ten times faster when she helps me out with the genin mission logs. You know they still make the Hokage look over those things?”

She heard her father huff. “It’s one of the perks of the job, I guess.”

Was that supposed to be a joke? Did her father just make a joke? God, he was completely different around people he actually liked.

Sarada couldn’t take it, standing up suddenly. “I’m sorry, if you both have a meeting –”

“No, it’s nothing like that –”

“Yes, we do. It’s top secret –”

Absolutely no one was on the same page here, and they all seemed to realize it in the silence that followed.

“I can come back later –”

“I should go train –”

Forget pages. At this rate, they weren’t even in the same book.

“I’ll go,” Sarada muttered. She looked the Hokage in the eye and smiled. “Thanks for letting me help.”

He smiled back, enthusiasm dialed back at the tense shift in mood. “Of course. Stop by any time.”

With a nod and a smile, and absolutely nothing for anyone else who might’ve been in the room, Sarada turned and left. She closed the door behind her, standing in the hall outside and counting her breaths.

Through the door, she heard, “You two are more alike than you realize.”

She nodded to Mr. Shikamaru as she left the building. Walking through town, her eyes strayed to all the people walking in groups, all the parents walking with their kids. She even saw Auntie Ino out shopping with Inojin, the two of them inspecting vegetables at an old roadside stall.

Once the buildings were behind her, she felt air come easier to her. The training ground she’d chosen was blissfully empty, so Sarada took a moment to relax and think.

She should’ve felt sad, possibly even angry at her father for intruding on her one moment of peace in an otherwise awful day. But although it was small, Sarada couldn’t stop her smile if she tried. And there was really no point in hiding happiness.

She hadn’t been meant to hear that last comment, but all it proved was that the Hokage really was a good person. It was in his nature to be kind to anyone, to try to make people feel like they belonged. Even if it’s rotten fathers who didn't even want to belong in their own families.

Chapter Text

“Does she come see you often?”

Naruto sighed. Sarada had left too fast to see his wave goodbye. He ran his raised hand through his hair awkwardly and eyed Sasuke, who was still staring at the closed door.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. Sasuke was only passing through for an hour at most, and he didn’t want to upset the man during his short stay. But taking one look at the slumped (but only if you knew to look for it) set of Sasuke’s shoulders, he knew it couldn’t be helped now.

“Kind of, yeah.”

Sasuke sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose tiredly. “The last time I saw her was weeks ago, back when she flicked me off.”

Naruto stifled his smile, remembering how scandalized and affronted Sasuke had been retelling that story the night it’d happened. He hadn’t seen Sasuke that fired up outside of battle in quite some time. Naruto had been both sympathetic and entertained. “Then maybe ignoring you is an improvement?”

“Very funny, Naruto.” Sasuke was giving him his best unimpressed look, and it made Naruto want to grin right back.

“Hey kids are great, but they can cause some pretty big headaches.”

Another sigh. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Naruto felt his smile fade away. This conversation was about to get out of hand, he could feel it. He could continue sparing Sasuke, divert their attention to his upcoming S-rank mission and ignore the problems of Sasuke's household. But he looked so tired, standing there and rubbing his temples over his seemingly incomprehensible daughter… Well, Naruto needed to consider what would be best in the long run.

“She stops by when she’s upset,” he reluctantly admitted.

Sasuke whipped his head up so fast Naruto thought his neck would snap. When he was looking into the (admittedly stoic) face of a genuinely concerned Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto couldn’t do anything but give in.

He sank back into his chair, the full force of his tiredness hitting him all at once. But he moved forward with his decision to disclose recent events. “Sarada hasn’t talked with me about it, but I can see how lonely she is. She needs company sometimes, and she’s too mature for the other kids her age.”

Sasuke nodded, looking down at the floor. Obviously, he understood loneliness too. “What usually upsets her?”

“Ask Shino for specifics,” Naruto groaned, rubbing at his eyes. If he’d known he’d be dealing with other people’s family drama, he’d have slept more than four hours. “Or better yet, just ask your daughter. I don’t like invading her privacy myself, but Shikamaru said that Shino said that the boys at school tease her.”

Sasuke was silent, glaring out the window.

“According to Shikamaru, they usually just call her names. Bookworm usually, and she-male when she shows off the strength she inherited from Sakura-chan. That’s all I know.”

Sasuke’s fist tightened at his side. “Seems like you do know some specifics.”

“She’s tough,” he went on, ignoring Sasuke’s comment. “She can handle herself for the time being. But she is only a kid, so yes, sometimes she gets lonely and stops by to help me with paperwork.” He softened his voice, trying to coax Sasuke down from the murderous rampage he was no doubt plotting. The boys in Sarada’s class would need to watch their backs. “She really is good at it. The paperwork, I mean. She says that she wants to be the Hokage someday, so it helps to show her what the job can be like.”

Sasuke was staring resolutely out the window, voice quiet as he asked, “And why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

Naruto shrugged. Sasuke didn’t seemed hurt, just confused. And Naruto didn’t have much in the way of a real answer. All he knew was that getting close to Sarada, when Sasuke himself hadn’t even started to, wasn’t something that could easily be mentioned. Not with their already limited time together, and not with Sasuke’s unofficial missions taking him out for longer and longer periods of times, closer and closer to border skirmishes with minor hidden villages.

Not when he knew how much guilt Sasuke already carried without the knowledge of the extent to which he’d alienated his daughter.

So Naruto deflected. “You’ve had really long missions the last few months, and the teasing only started recently. I’m not going to get involved unless she tells me about it herself, and neither should you.”

“Obviously, but –”

“And even then, it’ll probably take her a while to bring it up around either of us. She has your pride, that’s for sure,” Naruto finished with the genuine world-weary sigh of someone very well acquainted with prideful Uchihas. “By the way, have you –”

“I meant the paperwork. How long has she been coming to you to do paperwork?” It seemed like Naruto’s deflection tactics were getting rusty. Or Sasuke could just see through them, weak as they were. Naruto was too tired for any real strategizing against his favorite ally.

“Oh, that. Maybe a month or two ago? This is the…” He was too tired to remember, so he guessed, “Eighth time she’s come by? For paperwork, specifically.”

“Oh.”

Naruto cringed inwardly. Now Sasuke seemed hurt. Honesty would be best from here on out. “She’s only been coming to see me once in a while, ever since she went looking for you some four months ago. It didn’t become a regular thing until just before the bullying started, which was maybe a month and a half ago, shortly after the Chunin exams.”

Sasuke frowned. “That sure is a long time to not tell me about this.”

Naruto frowned right back. “It isn’t a regular thing. Truthfully, I just didn’t want to say anything. I knew that if I told you it’d make you feel like a bad father.”

“You were right, it does.” Sasuke sank down into the chair Sarada had vacated. "And I am." He still wasn’t looking Naruto in the eyes, which was irritating to Naruto’s insomnia-dwindled reserve of patience.

“Look, you were the one that still wanted all these missions.”

“I know.”

“I told you months ago, when you both met for the first time in years, that you should spend more time with her.”

“I remember.”

“You said you would, in your own time, which I completely understand. But you haven’t done anything yet, and the longer you avoid her the harder it’ll be when you finally get your head out of your ass.”

“Mm.”

“You’re away on missions a lot, especially ones that are far away. And when you do come back, it’s barely five minutes before you’re turning around and leaving again. I barely get to see you as it is, but I told you that I don’t mind you spending less time with me if it means you spend more time with Sarada.”

“I know, and I appreciate that.”

“We both know that kids need their parents around. Even if it’s kind of hypocritical of me to say so. But you get the point.”

“Yeah.”

“So why haven’t you tried reaching out yet? It would take ten minutes to get lunch with her or something, and even you have to eat - everyone has to eat! She’s just a child, it’s not that challenging.”

Sasuke looked ready to respond with more than a few words this time, but something on the desk grabbed his attention. Naruto followed his narrowed eyes, and saw just another pile of – ah. Sarada’s handwriting really was too neat for an eleven year old. It stood out against Naruto’s own haphazard scribbling.

Sasuke gingerly took up the paperwork in his hand. He was reading over the notes Sarada had written in the margins, comments that Naruto had rambled out and that she’d converted into more efficient feedback.

Naruto smiled, teasing, “Are you getting sentimental on me?”

“Old age has taken its toll.” Sasuke smiled quickly at Naruto’s answering laugh, but the good humor didn’t last long. “Naruto, do you think…”

While time had definitely made Sasuke more sentimental, it had made Naruto more appreciative of silences. A small part of him was tempted to slap some sense into his frustrating best friend, his lover, his dense as a brick idiot. But he knew that Sasuke needed to reach conclusions in his own time. Rushing the man would just push him further away from any real progress.

So Naruto took the opportunity to study him while he waited. The troubled frown and furrowed brow. The lines he knew were forming under his eyes, and the temporary traces of sadness in the one that was visible.

They were both getting older, it was unavoidable. The cricks in his neck from falling asleep at his desk took longer and longer to wear off these days. The inevitability made Naruto slightly nervous, but mostly calm. He’d been through a lot with Sasuke, and there was something comforting about knowing they’d face old age together too.

They had to work every day, and the breaks were rare and far between. The last few years had been hectic, this last year especially, but things would settle back down by next year, possibly sooner. Although times were stressful now because of the botched Chunin exam, it would all be worth it in the long run. The village prospered, the younger generations were growing up in an optimistic, safe world. And he and Sasuke were together in every sense of the word. Unless Sasuke was away on a mission. Then they were only together in most senses of the word.

“I’m still doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Sasuke’s quiet voice broke through the sentimental warmth Naruto had fallen into.

This was an important moment for Sasuke. He was coming to terms with his actions and responsibilities, and that was good. In his quest for redemption in the eyes of the universe and himself, Sasuke had taken on countless long, difficult missions; and this past year, the amount of his missions had nearly doubled. He was away from the village more often than not, and when he was in Konoha he usually just reported in to Naruto’s office to spend the night.

He needed to accept the consequences of his distance, it had been a long time coming. But this was a monumental moment of self-reflection and vulnerability. Naruto had to tread lightly, had to exhibit that tact that Shikamaru was always nagging him about.

“Yeah, you are. I’ve been telling you that for months, you idiot.”

One day he would master tact. Well, if he ever did, Shikamaru would probably be out of a job. Maybe staying this way was for the best.

Sasuke sighed, his shoulders slumping minutely. “I already knew it. But thanks for saying it, I guess.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t insult your intelligence like that.” Yes, his frankness had definitely been intentional.

“Don’t pretend like you meant to say that.” Sasuke knew him far too well.

“Hey,” he spoke softly. Reaching out, he covered Sasuke’s hand still clutching the genin mission log. “Your intentions have only ever been good. But it’s obvious they’re not enough anymore. It’s not too late, you know? To be a father to Sarada.”

Sasuke was still avoiding eye contact. But he didn’t pull away, so that was something. “She hates me.”

“Opinions change.”

“Her opinion isn’t unfounded.”

“Then give her something to found a new opinion on.”

“She’s better off –”

“Not this again!” Naruto sat back, running his hands through his short hair in frustration. “You always get like this, and I always tell you the same damn thing! If you don’t like something, then change it!”

Sasuke’s gaze snapped up at that. There was the fire. There was the last Uchiha, the driven boy Naruto had fallen for so long ago. Naruto hadn’t seen much of him today. It was nice to have him back.

“You say that like it’s easy, and it’s not!”

“How do you know if you don’t even try? You’ve done far more difficult things –”

“If this was a problem I could stab in the gut, that’d be one thing. But this is…”

“What? How is this different? You have the ability to do something, and all you have to do is try! Why are you being so difficult about this? You have nothing to lose and everything to gain!”

Sasuke’s fight was gone as quickly as it’d come. “This is my child,” Sasuke answered, voice soft and eyes staring intently at the document still clutched in his hand.

“As if that answers anything.”

Sasuke gave him a withering look.

“If that's the case, then it should matter even more to you.”

“I can’t be a dad. It’s better for them if I just stay out of the way –”

“Don’t bullshit me!” He stood up, hands balled into fists, ready to punch this problem in its nonexistent face.

He was nearly panting from this short encounter. Fluctuating from exhausted to happy, delighted, sad, confused, and frustrated was very taxing on only four hours of sleep, for the third night in a row.

His heavy breaths were the only sound in the room, but Sasuke’s silence pressed harder on his ears. Naruto didn’t truly know why, but whenever it came to Sarada, Sasuke only ever displayed sad resignation. It was exhausting.

“Do you believe that? Do you honestly, truly believe that you’d only hurt her?”

Sasuke frowned. “No,” he eventually admitted. “But with Sakura around, I can’t just also… be around.”

Oh. Naruto definitely wasn’t dealing with this today. This was a problem for the Naruto of next week, or maybe the week after. “So it’s me then? Our relationship is giving you guilt that’s holding you back from connecting with you daughter? Is that what you're telling me?”

Sasuke looked up in alarm. Naruto was a grown-ass man, the Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village, one of the strongest ninjas in the world, but this. This implication cut deep.

“That’s not what I meant.” Sasuke was looking frantic now. He dropped the paper back on the desk only to squeeze his hand into a fist. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t influence my decision to stay away.”

He was too tired. “Can you just go now?”

“Naruto, you know that’s not what I meant!” Sasuke got up, reaching out for him just as Naruto pulled away. “You know what happened with Sakura. Please, you know I – don’t just –”

He answered Sasuke’s scowl with one of his own, but his words were soft and carefully firm. “You don’t have to be a husband in order to be a father. And you don’t have to be a perfect person in order to deserve to raise your kid. You know all of this, but you insist on being indecisive. And in the meantime, your daughter is suffering because of that indecision.”

Sasuke was stunned, mouth hanging open in shock. But Naruto had already decided that he was not going to do this anymore today. “Go report to Shikamaru about the tactics of your next –”

“Naruto, why are you –”

“I promise I love you, but I just can’t today, alright?” Naruto rubbed at his forehead, feeling his nearly constant headache spike. “I’m exhausted, and I’ve already had to think more in this one conversation than I’ve had to all day.”

Sasuke paused and then nodded, mouth set in a determined line. He turned to the door, and – wait, he was leaving, just like that? Since when did he ever do what Naruto told him to do? Ah, Sasuke actually did that quite a lot lately. In an official capacity, anyway.

So what, he was just giving up? Sure, Naruto was ready to pass out the moment he sat back down, but that didn’t mean Sasuke should just –

Oh, thank god he stopped.

“I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

“Finally,” Naruto sighed, relieved that Sasuke would come to some decision.

“You’re not wrong. I know you’re not saying it, but I’m being a coward.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“And I’ve not just been doing nothing," he admitted irritably. "I’ve been thinking about what I want to do and say, but it’s… I’m not good at it.”

“All that matters is the effort, Sasuke.”

Sasuke’s shoulders went stiff before he rushed out a quiet, “I love you.”

As tired and exasperated as he was before, Naruto couldn’t hold back his smile now. Even after all this time, Sasuke was still very reserved about using those three words.

He moved around his desk, wrapping an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders and kissing him on his temple. “You are getting sentimental on me.”

“Shut up.”

“You know I do too.”

“What do I know?”

“You know, you ass.”

“Hokage-sama, you have to be more specific if–”

Naruto laughed lightly, giving Sasuke a quick peck on the lips. “That I love you too, asshole.”

Sasuke's mouth turned up in a small smile, but it faded fast. “I’ve been causing you stress.”

"What's new, right?"

"Naruto, I swear-"

“It’s alright, it's alright," he laughed, pressing in closer. "Stress is unavoidable as Hokage, but I'll always choose to be stressed over you.”

Sasuke released his breath, shoulders relaxing under the weight of Naruto’s arm. They stood like that for a minute, foreheads together and bodies turned toward each other. Naruto savored the moment, as they were rare and there was far too much time in between them.

Eventually, Sasuke straightened up. “I need to go.”

“Yeah,” Naruto nodded, stepping back.

“You need to sleep more. It’s unhealthy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“At this rate, you’ll beat me to old age.”

“Hah, you wish.”

“...I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

“You already said that earlier.”

“I’m just making sure the simpleton can follow along,” Sasuke huffed.

“Ah, what happened to respectfully calling me by my title? Hokage-sama is hurt, you know.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not good at it.”

Sasuke met Naruto’s eyes. He looked vulnerable, as if Naruto was holding his entire world together. Naruto would’ve teased him about it, but he knew he was probably making the same stupid face right back.

With a deep breath and a quick peck on the cheek, Sasuke’s shields were back up. He swept out of the room, his long traveling cloak adding to the dramatic exit. It was excessive, really.

Naruto smiled, watching his office door close with longing for more steady times. Everything would calm down in a year or so, and then Sasuke wouldn’t have to be away as much. He could hold out until then.

He sat back down and picked up a stack of jounin mission logs, feeling a small burst of energy for the first time that day.

Chapter Text

The next time Sarada saw her father, it was over a week later, and she wasn’t in the mood. He could’ve ridden up to her on a white horse, offered her favorite candy and books on a silver platter, and crowned her Queen of the world. She’d still give him a dirty look and a swift kick to the groin.

Last night, mom had been crying. Sarada’s light sleeping wasn’t always a blessing.

She’d gone downstairs at the noise, recognizing it the moment she was awake enough to. She had made sure to step loudly enough for her mom to hear her coming. It was her system. Mom cried sometimes – not often, but enough. Once was enough, and that first time passed years ago.

When Sarada had walked through the door of the living room, her mom was sitting at the kitchen table, hands around a cup of tea with no steam coming from it. How long had she been down here already?

“Oh, Sarada!” She was obviously anxious, one hand coming up to rub at her red-rimmed eyes. “What are you doing up right now? Young lady, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I had a nightmare,” Sarada lied easily, pulling out a chair and bringing it around to sit next to her mom. “Can I stay down here with you for a bit?”

“Really now,” her mom pouted, patting Sarada on the head and running her fingers through her hair, making her smile. “You have far too many nightmares. I guess it can’t be helped then. How about I make you some tea, huh?”

“Sure, thanks,” she grinned brightly. “None of your awful medicinal stuff though, please?”

Her mom laughed, getting up to root through the tea cabinet. “Of course not! I only give the bad tasting stuff to people that are either sick or deserve it.”

Sarada laughed. “Like when father comes to visit?”

Mom turned around and shared a mischievous smile with her. “He hasn’t complained yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d killed all his taste buds.” She laughed, turning back to heating some water on the stove. “It’s supposed to supplement his nutrition, but I think it just supplements his aloofness.”

There was an awkward silence, then, “Mom, I have a question about a jutsu I heard about today in school.”

“Oh really? Which one was it?”

From there, they chatted away the next hour. Sarada and her mom were both book smart, so they knew all the technical jargon that they threw each other’s way. And even though mom had been out of the field for some time now, spending her days between home, Auntie Ino’s house, and her job at the hospital, her mind was still sharp and knowledge still up to date.

Eventually mom had glanced at the clock and remembered her responsibilities as a parent. She ushered Sarada off to bed, actually taking the time to walk her upstairs and tuck her in.

“You’re safe here, so you don’t have to worry about anything,” her mom had said. She’d planted a soft kiss on her forehead, making Sarada giggle. “So no more nightmares, alright? Hopefully this will be the last one.”

“Hopefully,” Sarada had nodded, falling asleep seconds after her mom had shut the door behind her.

She’d been lucky it was the weekend, otherwise her tiredness would’ve been unacceptable. Below average class performance was for people like Boruto.

With last night still fresh in her mind, Sarada was not excited to see her dad again any time soon. She didn’t know for sure what her mom stayed up late crying about, but surely an absent husband was at least near the top of that list.

So when she saw her father walking down the street the very next day, daring to try to blend in with normal, functional human society, Sarada was less than thrilled.

Her father must have sensed the ill intent, because he looked up and made eye contact with her instantly.

By now they’d usually have looked away, ignoring one another’s presence until the next fateful day they happened to cross paths. But instead of going about his business, her father glared in her direction. Which, wow, rude.

Two could play this childish game. She glared right back.

His next move was to start walking toward her. Well fine, she wouldn’t back down from this challenge. She stood her ground, arms crossed, as he came to a stop in front of her.

They were lucky there weren’t too many crowds right now, otherwise they’d be getting shoved for just standing in the middle of the path. Her father was making her look like a crazy person.

He took a deep breath, then spat out, “Hi.”

Anger and confusion were not complimentary emotions, and Sarada didn’t like feeling them from the same burst of adrenaline. “What?”

He winced. “Hello.”

“What?” She repeated, too stunned to do anything else.

“It’s a greeting, aren’t you supposed to be smart?” In her father’s defense, he did look immediately apologetic. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She felt her frown tug down even further. “Why?” Why on earth was he talking to her? She was not prepared for this at all.

He ignored her question, instead asking, “Can we talk?”

Her eyes narrowed accordingly. “We are,” she responded, inwardly fist-pumping at her small but blatant act of defiance.

Her father sighed, glancing around at the stores along the street. He switched tactics, “Are you hungry?”

“No,” was again her prompt reply. Her father was looking increasingly irritated, and she loved it.

“Everyone needs to eat.”

“I already ate.”

“How about ice cream or something?”

“No.”

“Do you like tea?”

The image of mom handing her a warm mug of tea last night came to her. Her eyes hadn’t gotten any less red by the time she’d tucked Sarada in. “Not if you’re offering.”

He sighed. His frustration was immensely satisfying. “Can we just talk somewhere?”

Now she was smirking. She was definitely winning if he was going back to square one. “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like you,” she answered plainly. Her father froze as if he’d been slapped, but recovered quickly.

“You don’t know me.”

“Which just proves my point.”

He sighed again. He looked down at her intently, face stoic. His mouth was set in a thin line, just like Sarada’s did whenever she was determined not to show her emotions. Thinking that made a part of her hurt – at the similarity she’d drawn all on her own, and at the knowledge that there were feelings her father was keeping under control. Surely her one word answers hadn’t made him that angry already?

He spoke carefully, words measured. “Will you please let me buy you tea.” It wasn’t spoken like an actual question, which was kind of rude.

Sarada studied the man in front of her. Her father looked intensely uncomfortable, posture rigid (maybe he just always looked like that) and standing with her in the middle of the road. His long black travelling cloak was still dusty, so he must’ve just gotten back in the village. He didn’t look nearly as tired as the Hokage, but he did look worn down.

Actually, when she considered the Hokage... He liked the man standing in front of her. Even though he was worthless as a father, Sarada had seen him manage to make the Hokage smile. And a few times, Sarada thinks she may have even caught a glance of her father smiling back. But it must’ve been a trick of the light, or her own over-active imagination.

He was here, standing in front of her. Making an effort. And although a huge part of her wanted to throw it all back in his face and kick him in the balls, she didn’t actually want to hate him. She did, but she didn’t want to.

It might actually be nice if he could somehow prove her wrong about how awful he was.

She’d been silent long enough to make him even more visibly uncomfortable, which was somehow still possible. His eyebrows were furrowed, his one visible eye glaring down at her. His fist was balled, preparing for a fight of some kind. His body posture was unregulated to show his defensiveness. He was entirely expecting another refusal.

“Sure.” The look of complete surprise was totally worth accepting the invitation.

“Really?”

“It’s an expression of acceptance, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?”

He frowned. “Earlier – I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Sorry.”

Sarada shrugged it off, disliking the feeling of her father humbling himself. She walked off and said, “I like Auntie’s place.”

“Who?”

“Auntie Ino’s tea shop.” She looked back at him. “I like it.”

“…Alright.”

Auntie Ino’s place was only a few blocks away. But even knowing this, it still seemed too far a walk to make with someone who was basically a stranger to her. She felt distinctly uncomfortable with this turn of events.

When Sarada woke up this morning, exhausted but happy she’d improved her mom’s mood, she never would’ve imagined this – that she’d be walking down the street, side by side with her father. She felt immensely awkward, but casual onlookers probably thought they were perfectly normal. Just a father and daughter, out running errands in the early afternoon. The thought made her stomach feel light, and she couldn’t decide whether or not she liked it.

Her father looked equally nauseous, which made her feel slightly better. Plus, the more time she spent with him, the more opportunities she’d have to torture him. Bonus.

It took a few minutes of impenetrable silence, but they eventually got within view of Auntie’s shop. Sarada looked into the flower shop as they passed it, eyeing the bright blooms in the outdoor display. Auntie had gathered a wide variety today – lilies and roses, even some sunflowers. Sarada liked sunflowers; they were so big and bright.

She reeled back in her smile, glancing up at her dad to make sure he hadn’t seen her slip up. But the sunflowers had also caught his attention, and it made Sarada frown.

They walked next door, into the tea shop Auntie had opened several years ago. The shop was calming with its soft earth tones, the low hum of chatter, and the smell of dried tea leaves. It was pretty busy for this time of day, couples and women sitting around tables and enjoying the company they were with.

She and her father may have looked normal walking on the street, but there was no way they’d fit in here.

Sarada had chosen this place in the hopes that it would make her father uncomfortable. But glancing at the man next to her, she knew that this was the type of man who’d rather die than break his stony exterior.

Sarada led them to a table by the open front window, sitting down and staring out at passersby. A moment later she saw her father sit across from her out of the corner of her eye, but refused to look his way. She could feel his eyes on her, and she didn’t want him to think he’d won.

One of Inojin’s honorary cousins Mei came over to take their order. Auntie Ino must be next door today.

“Hi there Sarada,” Mei grinned, drawing attention to the gap between her front teeth. “It’s been a while!” She looked at Sarada’s father, blushed and muttered, “Hello sir, welcome! Are you a new customer?”

“Hi Auntie Mei,” Sarada smiled at her. She called all of the older women she knew through her mom Auntie. “What teas do you have this week?”

Mei rattled off this week’s teas, then started in on issues with getting shipments in on time, and then she started a small aside on the perfect time of year for green tea leaves to be harvested. All of the women Sarada knew through her mother were chatty by nature, but Mei seemed to be extra talkative today, even slightly red and feverish. Hopefully she wasn’t feeling ill or anything.

A glance to the side showed her father, looking intently at the waitress but obviously not listening to a single word she said. He must have plenty of practice with chatty women.

“Oh what am I doing, I’m so sorry! You don’t care about – what will you both be having? Would you like a menu? Do you need a minute to decide, or did you like one of the teas I mentioned? But just a word of friendly advice, don’t go with the extra caffeinated jade mint. Han had some yesterday, and she was bouncing off the walls for hours. Why, this one time –”

“Auntie Mei,” Sarada interrupted, for Mei’s own good, really. “Could I please have a lavender mint tea?”

“Oh of course, Sarada!” Mei was glancing between Sarada and her father, turning her notepad over repeatedly in her hands. “You’re so mature, coming in here and ordering for yourself all the time! Why, you both do sure look alike! I didn’t notice before, but are you somehow related?" She giggled nervously, "Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“Very,” Sarada deadpanned. She looked across the table and asked, “What are you getting?”

Her father raised an eyebrow at her, then looked back to the waitress. “Green tea.”

“Yes, of course! Is that all for you guys? Oh of course it is, what am I asking? You’re not going to order more than one cup at a time. Although, we do have some pastries –”

“Just tea is fine, Auntie. Thank you,” Sarada smiled.

Mei nodded, smiling and waving as she scampered off to submit their order. She seemed healthy enough, thankfully.

Sarada went back to looking out the window. It was nice outside. Sunny, and cool but not cold. Her favorite type of weather.

“How –” Her father’s sudden question broke her concentration from a faraway cloud. He cleared his throat, then continued, “How is school.”

Once again, it didn’t really sound like a question when he said it with zero inflection. Sarada wanted to sass him, tell him that school was every kid’s dream come true, so of course she was loving it.

But she’d been curt enough earlier. And despite how traitorous it felt, she was glad that he was trying. She was also angry that he was trying so late, and wary that he may not try again after today, especially if provoked.

“Fine,” was the safe answer she picked. It was still short, but it would do.

Her father looked like he wanted to ask something else, but he looked down at the table. They were silent until their tea came out, Sarada thanking Mei and her father nodding.

Sadly, he didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable in this setting. Well, at least they had something to do with their hands during this awkward silence.

Maybe her one word answers were doing more harm than good. Maybe she should try to meet him halfway.

“Slow.” It was still one word. Why wasn't her throat working right?

Her father looked up at that. “What?”

“Classes. They’re slow,” she explained stiltedly.

His visible eye widened, but the emotion smoothed away quickly enough. “Oh,” he responded.

The man was not a natural conversationalist, that much was obvious. Oh well, she’d done her part.

They drank their tea in silence, Sarada watching the people that walked by the shop. She saw couples, old and young. Some children ran by, shouting about a game they were going to miss if the small one Takeuchi didn’t run faster. She saw a man walking with a bouquet of flowers. He must’ve just come from Auntie Ino’s flower shop.

The silence earlier was awkward, that was an indisputable fact. But this one seemed… less so.

Sarada was swirling the dregs at the bottom of her cup when her father spoke up again. “Sarada,” he said, getting her attention. He waited for her to make eye contact, then he asked, “Would you be happy if we saw each other more?”

She knew she looked dumbstruck, but she didn’t care. She was too busy thinking a mile a minute.

Was this her father’s way of asking for forgiveness? Was he planning on going on less missions, of actually being present and accounted for on a regular basis? She couldn’t imagine him sitting at the dinner table with her and mom – mom! She’d have to learn how to cook for three and not two. Would mom even be happy with him around? Because Sarada refused to be happy if mom wasn’t also going to be happy. She only ever seemed to be anxious when he was home, and Sarada didn’t know if she wanted her answer now to impact her mom’s anxiety.

But would Sarada be happy with this man around? He was a complete stranger to her at this point. All she knew about him was that he was an awful conversationalist, and that he liked the color black very much. And green tea.

She had no idea what he had to offer her, as a father or otherwise.

Barely over a week ago, the Hokage had smiled as her father walked into his office.

After what was possibly minutes, but probably only seconds, Sarada answered, “I hope so.”

Her father nodded solemnly. “Me too,” he said plainly.

The warm feeling was back, and this time Sarada knew she liked it.

And that was it. He put some money on the table (you wouldn’t think so by looking at him, but apparently Sarada’s father was an excellent tipper), then stood as if to leave. Sarada was out of her seat in an instant.

So this was it? He was going to offer to stay, and then immediately leave? What kind of a scumbag taunts their child with half-assed promises–

“Let’s go,” her father waved, motioning for her to follow.

She felt like sinking to the floor with relief, but she held the feelings back behind tight lips. Maybe one day she could be an absolute child around this man, but today was not that day. Today, she had to be impressive. She didn’t want to lose any positive standing she’d scrapped together by turning into a puddle on the floor and staining her father’s already dirty travel cloak.

Sarada followed him out of the shop, waving to a flustered Mei as she went. Her father was already walking away, and Sarada had to hurry to catch up with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, falling into stride beside him once again.

“I have a meeting with the Hokage,” he answered. “Since you like him, you can come.” He stopped mid-step, throwing her off. “If you want to, that is. I didn’t ask.”

Her reticent, mysterious father hadn’t spoken that much in one go all afternoon, and Sarada maybe knew why. For a grown ass man, her father was exceedingly awkward. A single laugh escaped her, quick and sharp and surprising them both. Her father looked to her, his eye wide.

“Sure,” she coughed, resuming her earlier pace. “I do like the Hokage, after all.”

“Yeah.” Her father followed next to her. To passersby, they probably looked normal again.

“How do you know I like the Hokage?”

After a moment’s thought, he responded, “Everyone likes the Hokage.”

Sarada smiled. It was true. “Even you?”

Sarada had maybe imagined it in the past, but she was wide awake now. It wasn’t a trick of the light, and it wasn’t gone in an instant.

Her father smiled back as he responded, “Especially me.”

Chapter Text

Naruto was having a pretty good day. Weekends tended to be calm relative to the rest of his week, and this one was especially nice. He only had a few more hours of work ahead of him, with a few briefings and phone calls left to make. But Scouts reported Sasuke within city limits, he’d finished his tedious paperwork early, and he was having lunch with his son. All in all, things were looking good.

“But then Chouchou ate it, can you believe that? I was gone for four seconds and it was just gone, no crumbs or anything! I swear she even ate the napkin it was wrapped in!”

“What? I don’t believe that,” he smiled good-naturedly, setting Boruto off on another anecdote about Chouchou stealing the desserts Hinata packed in his lunch.

After the fiasco of the botched Chunin exams Konoha had hosted nearly two months ago, times were tense. Sure, they’d easily defeated the power hungry idiots that’d attacked the village, but now they had a generation of genin that couldn’t progress, and foreign powers that were irritated at the delay.

Village officials were working around the clock to arrange a new exam sometime in the coming months, but it was slow-going, complicated work. It had taken months of preparation to plan the last ordeal, and officials were reluctant to set a date for the near future. Planning completely new trials, restocking supplies, prepping battlegrounds, and coordinating the schedules of hundreds of foreign dignitaries – it was all a massive pain. But even so, Naruto’s least favorite part of the fallout was definitely soothing the ruffled feathers of those who no longer trusted Konoha to host the exams.

If the rescheduling was Naruto’s only headache, he’d be a lucky man. But he’d never been particularly lucky, and not every nation saw the swift resolution of the Chunin exam conflict as a demonstration of Konoha’s stability and strength. There had been cracks of resentment forming in the west for some time now, and some hostile forces saw this as an opportunity to challenge Konoha’s strength.

It was taking everything in Naruto’s power to keep their minor cries for attention under the table. Everything had to be done in secrecy, with only those closest to him and the four other Kages made aware of the true state of things. They’d all agreed that it would be best in the long term, that they couldn’t allow the public to find out and blow things out of proportion. They didn’t want to give these small uprisings any traction by affording them public coverage. Thankfully, it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

Unanimously, the Kages agreed to let Konoha handle things, leaving matters up to Naruto’s discretion. Aside from their initial input, only Naruto knew the specifics of the time-consuming, detail-oriented missions that Sasuke went on.

By utilizing extensive intelligence networks and back alley deals, Sasuke played the largest and sometimes only part in maintaining the current pseudo-peace. Those that couldn’t be reasoned with were taken out, Sasuke sent as either an unofficial diplomat or an executioner. He was the only person Naruto trusted to do what needed to be done, and to make it back in one piece.

Yes, the Chunin exams had kick started Naruto’s stress levels beyond what he’d believed humanly possible. But even so, he was still somewhat thankful for them, as they’d immensely helped his personal life. They had opened his eyes to the state of his family’s disrepair, especially how toxic his relationship with Boruto had become.

They’d grown closer since then. Naruto still couldn’t bring himself to casually invade the space Hinata had created at their house. But when he had the time, he was willing to go out with his family. When they went out for dinner, Hinata would smile pleasantly, Himawari would bashfully avoid eye contact, and Boruto would light up the room with his good humor.

It was humbling how much they appreciated his company. Naruto wasn’t one for playing house, not with someone he’d never loved, a woman who was his wife in name only. But focusing on his children made it bearable, enjoyable even.

And that was why Boruto was in his office, chattering away about his school days and actively bringing Naruto into his life.

Normally Boruto would have school, but as it was the weekend and the boy didn’t have any missions at present, Hinata had sent him over with lunch. He was just about to tune back into what Boruto was animatedly talking about, but a new train of thought came to him.

Ah yes, Naruto’s inauguration as Hokage had sparked many changes throughout the village. And one such change involved the ninja academy his son was still attending.

Konoha had been tense in Kyuubi’s aftermath, and by the time Naruto had graduated some twelve years later, the country itself had still been recovering. He’d been unaware of the real state of things as a child, and much of his teen years had been a rude awakening.

He could easily remember being a shiny new genin, face still chubby with baby fat as he’d been expected to carry out mission after mission (even if they had mostly involved chasing cats and pulling weeds). Children that were far too young had been forced to bear burdens that were far too heavy. Such had been the way of their world.

But these days, the Five Great Shinobi Countries were cooperative and peaceful (Chunin fiasco aside). And in this peace, more children were conceived, less missions were needed, and their society had yet to shift away from ninja-oriented career paths. After receiving one too many complaints about wide-eyed genin wreaking havoc on unsuspecting civilians with all of their free time (kids these days just don’t train like they used to), Naruto had decided to change the schooling system to reflect the new times they were living in.

For genin and below, schooling was now mandatory through the year of their fourteenth birthday. They could opt out of schooling once they were old enough, or once they’d progressed to Chunin level. Until that time, they stayed in the academy to take advanced ninja courses.

Even with their freshly polished headbands, many in the generation had a lot to learn about the basics of being a ninja, things older generations had been able to learn with real world experience – had been required to learn, or otherwise face the very real consequence of death.

But as those opportunities were few and far between in the present, changes had been made. So until they were old enough to fully bear that responsibility, and so long as they weren’t assigned to any missions, young genin were required to attend classes.

Additionally, there was one class a day that focused on some life skill that was unrelated to being a ninja, the topic of which left up to the teacher’s discretion. This was especially important, as they were living in a time with more academy graduates than positions as full-time ninjas. Many of these genin would fade back into civilian life, and Naruto wanted to ensure that they could handle themselves outside of a battle.

He remembered all too well his own inexperience with things as basic as reading and writing, things that these days he utilized far more than an effective punch. Sometimes, he was surprised he was still alive – not because of all the fighting he’d had to endure in his life, but because of the constant self-imposed threat of malnutrition. Who just lets a kid eat instant ramen all the time? Why had no one explained to him why that was a bad idea?

When considering his own son, he cringed at the thought. No, his kid was going to learn why it was important to eat vegetables.

“So that’s why you can’t complain about me taking half your cookie. My dessert gets stolen every single day! You’re lucky I allowed you to have even half, I could’ve taken the whole thing! You should feel lucky!”

“Yes, I’m quite lucky,” he laughed, his heart melting with affection. They’d gotten close enough to allow teasing a few weeks ago, and Naruto hadn’t really let up since. And as Boruto was easily excitable by nature, he seemed to enjoy having an excuse to shout at his dad.

“But I have to tell you something,” Naruto said, face serious and tone flat.

Boruto visibly perked up, eyes practically shining with interest. “Is it a secret?”

“Not really. I hate to tell you this,” Naruto smiled mischievously. “But I let you take my cookie.”

“WHAT – mom says lying is bad, you know!”

“It’s true, though. You seemed like you wanted it, so I looked the other way on purpose.”

“I don’t believe you, there’s no way! I was totally sneaky!”

“I wanted you to take it. Do you know why?”

Boruto was obviously lost, tilting his head unconsciously as he asked, “I don’t get it, why would you…?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yeah, I want to know!”

“You can’t unlearn what I’m about to tell you, you know.”

“Come on dad, you’re being stingy on purpose. Just say it!”

Naruto leaned in close, grinning in the face of his son’s rapt attention. “I’m sorry Boruto, but it was actually your cookie.”

Boruto was definitely not following.

“I ate mine when you weren’t paying attention, took yours out of your lunch box, and put it into mine.”

He immensely enjoyed the shell-shocked expression on Boruto’s face. He seemingly watched his son’s brain reboot, only to come back online with a flurry of motion. Sure enough, when Boruto checked the side pocket of his lunchbox, his cookie was missing.

“You – so you got one and a half cookies? You ROTTEN–!”

“Oy,” Shikamaru opened his office door. He looked exasperated, eyeing Naruto warily as he laughed himself into a fit, with Boruto angrily jabbing at his stomach. “Hokage-sama, you have some guests.”

“I hope it gives you indigestion, you dishonest crook!”

“Ow – ahaha – what kind of an insult is that?”

“Hokage-samaaaaaa.”

“Shikamaru, I told you not to call me – oh, Sasuke. And Sarada. Hello there!”

Two Uchiha’s looking at him disdainfully was almost too much for his fragile heart to handle. Shikamaru ducked out of his office with a sigh, closing the door behind him. It was probably for the best.

“Hello Seventh,” Sarada greeted politely. Sasuke nodded, eyeing Boruto.

Boruto had frozen, looking towards their audience blankly. Then he exploded with a vengeance, retaking his aim at Naruto’s stomach and getting blocked at every turn. “Sarada, Uncle Sasuke, help me out! My dad is the worst, you won’t believe what he–!”

Naruto honest to god cackled at that. “If you want to be a good ninja, you have to learn to see through deception,” he intoned sagely.

“I call bullshit, old man! This betrayal will not stand!”

“Is now a bad time?” Sasuke asked from his position by the door.

Naruto chuckled. “No, Boruto was actually just about to leave,” he grinned, enjoying his son’s murderous pout.

“I was not, you lying, cookie-stealing scumbag!”

Sarada scoffed, walking up next to Boruto. “What, you’re upset because he took a cookie from you?” Her look of disapproval nearly made Naruto choke on thin air. That look – as if Boruto was something foul she’d stepped in – had been aimed his way many times as a genin.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, I’ve never been betrayed like this – don’t laugh at me, Sarada! You know Chouchou is always taking my desserts!”

“Oh, I know.” She smirked, expression taunting as she waved him off. “Some ninja you are, Boruto. Letting your desserts get taken so easily every single day.”

“You’re always talking about how important teamwork is, right? You should help me out!”

“No way.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because sometimes Chouchou splits them with me.”

“…WHAT?!” Naruto saw Sasuke hide his smile behind a cough, and that sent him back over the edge, laughing uncontrollably at this turn of events.

“Your mom makes better sweets than my mom,” Sarada explained, as if that justified anything. How she could keep a straight face when subjected to Boruto’s raving was beyond Naruto. He was having a hard enough time as it was, and he was too weak from laughter to even hold himself upright in his desk chair.

“Boruto – Boruto, I’m so s-sorry that people keep –”

“Shut up dad, you’re not sorry! You’re laughing at me!”

“Yes, but that’s because it’s funny.”

“Naruto,” Sasuke spoke up, eyeing Naruto’s nearly empty lunchbox. Sarada froze – oh, it seems she’d forgotten he was even there.

“What? Oh – come on Sasuke, no cheating!”

Luckily Boruto wasn’t paying attention, instead pulling Sarada in close and whispering to her frantically. He must be planning a counter-attack of some kind.

Sasuke walked up to him, coming to stand just behind and to the right of him. “Hokage-sama,” he nodded.

“Such formalities only make me age faster,” Naruto teased. He looked between Sasuke and Sarada, then looked at the former questioningly.

Sasuke looked away, but not fast enough to hide his slight blush.

“Dad, you look like a perv!”

Boruto had caught him grinning like an idiot, but Naruto didn’t really care.

Sarada glanced between him and Sasuke, then slapped his son on the back of the head. “Don’t call the Hokage a pervert, you imbecile!”

“Don’t defend him, he steals cookies!”

“That is at the top of my list of Things That Don’t Matter.”

“You’ve gotta’ be the least supportive teammate in the history of teammates.”

“Once you have a real problem, then I’ll help you. Until then, I’m siding with the Hokage.”

“This is kind of weird,” Naruto muttered to Sasuke. At the raised eyebrow, he explained, “How they’re just like us but also completely different at the same time. Is it just me?”

Sasuke was steadily watching their kids interact. They were still bickering, but they very obviously stayed away from any real insults.

“Anyone that argues reminds you of us,” Sasuke replied, making Naruto chuckle. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Dad, we’re gonna go train!”

Sarada slapped his son again. Naruto nearly devolved back into his laughing fit. “Don’t be so informal with the Hokage, you brat!”

“Don’t be so stuck up, you know-it-all!”

Naruto sighed. Did all genin have this much energy? “Alright, you kids have fun.”

“Training is not meant to be fun, Hokage-sama.”

“I keep telling you, you can just call me–”

“Uncle Sasuke, can you come with us?” Boruto was looking up at Sasuke, who was somehow maintaining his stoicism even in the face of Boruto’s raw energy and excitement. “I’ve been working on that technique you showed me last time, and I think I’ve got it!”

Sasuke frowned. “Come to me when you know you’ve got it.” Now Naruto was back to laughing.

“What – you know what I mean! Come on, please? It’ll be so cool!”

A glance showed Sarada cross her arms and hunch her shoulders slightly. She was looking at the floor, mouth in a firm line.

“Sorry, Boruto,” Naruto apologized. “We have a meeting that can’t wait. Train hard though!”

Boruto pouted, but nodded.

Naruto started packing up the empty containers on his desk. “Ah, here. Take the lunch boxes home before you go train.”

“Why, so I can be reminded of my defeat? Wallow in your dishonest victory?”

“You’re so dramatic. Where did you get that from?” Probably from having Sasuke as a master.

“I am not!”

“Being friends with Sarada is improving your vocabulary.”

“Shut up, old man!”

“Just take them for your dad, please?”

“Hmph!” Boruto turned and stomped out the door empty-handed. Perhaps Naruto had teased a little too much today. Thankfully, Sarada came up to his desk to grab the lunchboxes instead.

“Hey Sarada,” he muttered, eyeing the open door. He could sense Boruto was hiding just outside the door frame, eavesdropping. He couldn’t be that upset then.

Sarada looked up questioningly as he whispered, “I actually stashed his cookie in my lunch box. Make sure he gets it for me?”

She was surprised for a moment, then laughed out loud. Boruto stuck his head back inside at the noise, warily eyeing Naruto’s wide smile and Sarada’s rare giggling fit.

“What’s so funny in there? You better not be talking about me!”

With a warm smile, Sarada picked up the lunch boxes. “It was nice to see you, Seventh.”

He had to fight back the urge to pinch her cheek affectionately. He settled for smiling back just as brightly. “Likewise.”

Sarada glanced toward Sasuke, face smoothing out into wary blankness. She nodded once, then turned to leave his office. That was progress, Naruto supposed. It was better than a week and a half ago, when she’d ignored her dad entirely.

Boruto waved from the doorway, then ran off. With the lunchboxes under one arm and a final nod, Sarada pulled shut the door to his office. The room seemed far too quiet without Boruto’s yelling and Sarada’s sharp comebacks.

“You were right before,” Sasuke sighed.

“Hm? About what?”

“Kids do cause headaches.”

Naruto smiled up at him, chuckling lightly. “But they’re pretty great, right?”

Sasuke studied him for a moment. With a slight quirk of his lips, he muttered, “Yeah.”

At the tender look on Sasuke’s face, Naruto felt warmth in his chest. “Sentimental bastard,” he muttered, no real conviction behind his words.

Sasuke graciously chose to ignore that, instead moving to pull up a chair next to his desk. “I took your advice,” he said as he was sitting down.

“Hm?”

“‘Everyone needs to eat,’ you said.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow at Naruto’s confusion. “I got tea with Sarada.”

“Ah,” Naruto sighed. “I was wondering why you showed up with her.”

“I didn’t know what to do the entire time,” Sasuke admitted. “But I think she hates me slightly less.”

“That’s good at least,” Naruto chuckled. “She’s a mature enough kid to appreciate the effort more than anything.”

He nodded, then stared at Naruto.

“What? Is there food on my face?”

Sasuke shook his head, then glared. “Your face is distracting.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Sasuke scoffed. He took Naruto’s bandaged hand in his own, turning it over to inspect intently.

He got the sense that Sasuke had something he wanted to say. As was characteristic these days, Naruto waited while he gathered his thoughts, allowing the close inspection of his pinky finger, the thumb running over the dips of his knuckles. If Sasuke was being this fidgety, then we was nervous about something.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait too long. “I think I should train Sarada a bit.”

Ah, he had been nervous. “Did you want to go with the kids earlier? You should’ve said something, you seemed like you didn’t want to.”

“No, not today.”

“Oh, alright.”

“I’ve done enough to Sarada for one day.”

He chuckled, “Okay then.”

“…Her chakra is fire-type, correct?”

“Why? Are you thinking of passing on some Uchiha family secrets?”

“…Maybe.”

Naruto grinned smugly. “You can’t fool me, Sasuke. You like her, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” he huffed, pinching the back of Naruto’s hand.

“Admit it, you spent half an hour sitting with her in silence, and now she’s your favorite person!”

“That’s not it,” Sasuke muttered. But there was no fooling Naruto’s eyes, he could see the faint blush high on his cheek.

“My heart’s too old and fragile for this. You’re too much for me.”

“Hah?! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m going to kiss you now.”

“…Alright.”

Yes, all things considered, Naruto was having a good day.

Chapter Text

“I’m convinced that all parents are weird,” Sarada confessed. She solidified her stance, took aim, and sliced through the bullseye some hundred and fifty feet away. She took aim again, this time throwing two kunai at once. They clashed in midair, paths diverting into two adjacent targets. For her final trick, she launched four kunai into the air, trajectories clashing multiple times. Three knocked away the existing kunai, implanting themselves into the targets’ bullseyes. The fourth stabbed the ground in front of a rabbit, which scampered away in fright. Perfect.

Boruto was reclined back in the grass next to her, lazily alternating between watching her target practice and the clouds that passed by. She saw him swallow his last bite of cookie before sitting up to look at her. "I think it's kind of their job," he eventually commented.

He’d been so excited to find the cookie in his dad’s bag. He’d laughed that he should save it forever, but Sarada could tell that he’d only been half joking about the sentiment. He did manage to save it for quite a while, all things considered - an entire three hours.

“To be a parent?”

“To be weird.”

Sarada huffed a laugh at that, taking aim once more. “Yeah, but I feel like our parents are especially weird.”

Bullseye.

“Well, my mom is normal. Like, really normal. ”

Sarada suddenly recalled a conversation from several years ago. She’d been upset about getting a less than perfect score on a written exam, and her mom had brought her some tea and laid down some worldly truths on her.

‘Sarada,’ she’d said. ‘Being book-smart is useful, but it’s not all there it. It doesn’t justify being a know-it-all, either. Growing up, I learned a lot of things firsthand, things I’d never even encountered in books. Sometimes you learn from people or events, from places or memories. Books are good, but not all it takes to make a smart ninja, and a good person.’

It had been wise advice. It had made Sarada talk less, and listen more. She didn’t have all the answers, and oftentimes other people had ones she'd never even consider. Over time, she became good at reading people, at finding their intentions buried beneath a thousand rambled sentences. Sometimes she enjoyed understanding their silences more than their words.

All that considered, it was a strange message to give to a nine-year old. She didn’t want to admit it, but if Sarada was being honest…

“My mom is weird. Really weird.”

“Do I win, then?” Boruto asked with an obnoxious grin on his face.

“Oh, shut up. Genetics aren’t something you win, it’s something you get,” she huffed, stomping off to a post further away from Boruto. He was distracting her from target practice.

“Speaking of genetics why were you with your dad earlier?” Boruto had rolled over to her so they could continue conversing. Clearly, he didn’t understand her intentions.

“He’s one of my legal guardians,” she covered, stepping further back from the target.

“Yeah, but I never see you guys together.” Boruto had been paying too much attention to his teammates since the Chunin exams.

Sarada sighed. “If you want to know if you’re still his favorite, you don’t have to worry.”

“That’s not it,” Boruto muttered. He sure did look smug for someone making a refusal.

Sarada threw a particularly vicious right-hook, hitting yet another target with her kunai. And if she aimed for the post with a trajectory two inches from Boruto’s face – well, she didn’t ask him to follow her.

Boruto jumped, exaggeratedly yelling about how scary Sarada was. Good. When it came to Boruto, she’d rather be feared than loved.

Eventually he calmed down, even coerced Sarada into taking a break with him. She sat with her back against a nearby tree, while Boruto reclined back on the sparse grass and watched the leaves above them dance in the light breeze.

After a few minutes of blissful silence, Boruto asked, “Were you guys training?”

“We’re still talking about this?” she spat out. She wasn’t angry, just irritated. “Why would I train with him? I hate my father.”

“Hmm,” Boruto hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t believe you.”

“What? He didn’t train me, you idiot! He hasn’t taught me anything, ever. And even if he offered to, I’d refuse to take any lessons from him! He’s the worst–”

“He’s a good teacher,” Boruto interrupted. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What?”

Boruto was still looking up at the limbs above them as he explained, uncharacteristically reserved, “I don’t think you hate him.”

“I’m not talking about this with you!” Her kunai were nice and sharp. They stab nicely. She grabbed one threateningly.

“Well I don’t want to talk about this with you!”

"Does it look like I'm forcing you to?”

Boruto looked like he was about to explode, but he visibly reeled himself in at the last second. He looked her in the eye steadily as he admitted, “I know that it helps to talk about it. Family stuff, I mean.”

“Oh yes, because you understand my situation perfectly,” she sneered. Boruto looked hurt, but Sarada was beyond caring at this point. “You don’t know what you talking about, you’re just an oblivious, poorly-educated child! Don’t think that just because you have your own little attention issues that you and I are the same, because we’re not! My situation is – my father is –”

Their situations were quite similar, weren’t they?

No, they weren’t. Boruto’s father gave a damn.

Boruto shrugged as Sarada ran out of words. “Your loss, then. But you can talk to me if you ever want to.”

What, he was just going to take that? Crap, was that pity in his eyes? Why wasn’t he being an idiot like usual? Was Boruto maturing? Just earlier today he’d been screaming bloody murder over a filched cookie, for God’s sake. This about-face was giving her whiplash.

“I’m sorry, that was mean,” she admitted. She plopped down on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. “I just don’t want to talk.”

“About your father?”

“At all.”

Boruto scoffed. “Whatever, be stingy then. Not my problem.”

He put up a good front, but Sarada appreciated his stilted form of acceptance.

They stayed there together, neither wanting to break the heavy silence. That day, Sarada believed that she'd accomplished more sitting on her butt than she had taking aim at wooden posts.

Chapter Text

“Chouchou, I swear I will fight you!”

“Bring it, shrimp. You don’t stand a chance against a woman like me.”

Even though Boruto was spitting fire and Chouchou was stuffing an entire pastry in her face, Sarada was watching her friends with a smile on her face. Mitsuki was smiling too, but his seemed far more… suspicious.

It was kind of weird how everyone in their class of genin had grown up friends with someone or other. Their parents had all been in teams with close friends, and it seemed to be a Konoha tradition to perpetuate friendships generationally.

One time Sarada had been talking with Shikamaru-san about his own time at the academy. He’d admitted that he hadn’t really talked to her father at all in school; no one on his team had. It had been him, Auntie Ino, and Uncle Chouji.

The very next day, Sarada had sat next to Chouchou to eat lunch. Back then she’d done it as a form of rebellion, but Chouchou turned out to be a genuinely fun person. Sure, she ate like every day was her last, and she enjoyed pointing out people’s faults. But her intentions tended to be kind, and she cared deeply for the few friends she had. Sarada appreciated when people were genuine, no bull shit.

Even with Chouchou as a best female friend, Sarada was growing up a bit too cynical. She tried to go outside of her comfort zone, actively engaged Mitsuki in conversations that inevitably turned a bit too weird. But even so, Sarada simply didn’t want to know these other loud, obnoxious children.

There was always Boruto, at least. He was loud and obnoxious, but at least there was more to him than the volume of his voice. Although it was a recent revelation of hers, Boruto was the only friend she had that could possibly sympathize with the division in her family. That said, the boy rarely thought of anything outside of himself. And when he did, it didn’t last long. Oh well, he was still a child after all.

Sarada was about to turn to Mitsuki to plot a prank on said child when a shadow fell over her desk.

“Give it back,” a voice demanded.

Ah. It was Hiroki again.

He was big for a fourteen year old. But Sarada knew that he was weak as a human being. He was less important than a grain of sand, had as much impact on the world as an ant. He was a disgusting, petty, vindictive child without an ounce of compassion in his body.

He was a genuine idiot, and slightly bad at being a bully.

Sarada knew all of this, but locking eyes with him was enough to make her freeze up, her thoughts stalling to be replaced by replayed memories.

She was a monster. She was too strong, she was gross.

Hiroki and his friends’ insults had never been particularly mean. No, what effected Sarada so much was the conviction with which they spat out the offences.

Mitsuki spoke up, smile somehow both placating and threatening. “Excuse me, but who’re you?”

Sarada tore her eyes away, focusing instead on how her hands were clasped on top of the desk. Hiroki had never come into her class before. He was growing bolder.

She wasn’t good for anything, all she had was book smarts. What good did that ever do anyone?

“I’m Hiroki Hirokawa, and Sarada took my homework!”

Yes, Hiroki was pretty awful at being a bully.

Boruto was looking their way now. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, but she’d frozen entirely, limbs numb, brain empty. She was just a stupid girl, trying way too hard to be something. She’d never be anything.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sarada muttered, mouth running independent of her mind. “I must’ve mixed yours up with mine before.”

“Damn right you did,” Hiroki grunted, crossing his meaty arms. She was weak and useless. She needed to learn her place.

A small part of Sarada’s courage spoke up inside of her. It was enraged at this boy’s audacity, and ashamed at her blatant cowardice. But a much larger, louder part of her was terrified of Hiroki’s nothing. And that louder, irrational part of her was convinced that she deserved this.

Sarada didn’t take shit from anyone, but Hiroki… something about him genuinely scared her. She couldn’t just stab another student over words, but she didn’t have any other way to fight back. If she spoke, his insults would be spoken louder, and with more voices. The way he would tower over her behind the school, with his friends looking on wearing dumb grins on their vacant faces – she didn’t want to push this boy.

It hadn’t taken long for Hiroki to realize when she stopped fighting back. Stopping had been her mistake. She hadn’t fought back for a while, and the longer the distance between her courageous efforts and the present, the harder it became to unearth her courage. She was a coward.

No, she wouldn’t do anything. He’d shoved past her in the hall before, stolen her homework just to rip it up in front of her. And she’d do nothing. After a few seconds in his presence, the static in Sarada’s mind overpowered his clumsy, half-assed words.

She just took the verbal abuse, the occasional shove. Deserved it, even.

The voice looping in her head was blending in too easily. It was objectively wrong in every way, Sarada rationally knew this. But in the moment, when she looked up into Hiroki’s beady little eyes, she couldn’t help but believed it.

She thought she was something? She was nothing.

She didn’t want this right now. Behind the school was fine, in the hall was fine. But in her classroom, in front of her peers and friends, she didn’t want this. Don’t make a scene. She just wanted this to end, as soon as possible. She didn’t want to look weak. Even if she was.

Boys like this were why girls like her could never be strong ninja.

“Hey, what do you think you’re–!”

Boruto’s voice crashed through the reinforced and weaponized bubble she’d built up around herself. She looked up over the frame of her glasses, eyes wide, and she saw Hiroki move. He always had been stupid.

His face was turning, arm cocking back, hand flexing into a doughy fist, hips and shoulders squaring. All turning to face her teammate.

One moment she’d been sitting mentally hunched in on herself, paralyzed with self-loathing and shame. The next she had one foot on the desk to brace her weight as her fist flew forward.

Sarada slammed her fist into his face.

Pain flared white-hot over her knuckles, heat spreading up her arm, but she barely registered it over the rush of blood in her ears and the image of Hiroki nearly flying through the air. He crashed back to the ground loudly, probably dislocating his shoulder in the process.

She was looking down on him from her stance against the desk. From the pale, frightened look on his face, she was a sight to behold.

“Leave,” she spat out.

And he left. Sarada couldn’t help but notice how anticlimactic it all seemed.

One moment the room was still, everyone watching Hiroki rush and claw his way across the floor and out of the room. The next moment, everyone was shouting their surprise and amazement. Chouchou was slapping her on the back, saying something or other. Mitsuki was hovering at the edge of her vision, talking intently and obviously trying to get an explanation from her.

But her eyes were tracking the blood dripping down her knuckles.

With one punch, she’d broken her own skin. Even though she’d been told it wasn’t genetic, it seemed she really did inherit her mother’s strength. She really was a monster.

Her hand was taken up in two others. Boruto was turning over her hand one moment, then pulling her out of the classroom in the next.

Sarada observed that this whole day seemed to only consist of juxtaposing moments.

They could easily hear the sound of other classes having their separate lunch breaks, the laughter and chatter of other students echoing out into the corridor. They got a few weird looks, but they reached the nurse’s office unbothered.

The nurse wasn’t in, obviously. Why would a school nurse spend time in the school infirmary? That was an absolutely crazy notion.

“Sit down,” Boruto ordered, voice brooking no arguments.

Sarada sank into a chair and let Boruto move around the small office to gather up the necessary supplies. She’d never been here before, but her mom was the best doctor in the village, so Sarada could’ve navigated the room easily enough if she had to. Compared to the densely packed labs and wide operating theaters Sarada had been in before, this place looked practically empty.

It would’ve been simple to locate the antiseptic – probably somewhere on the countertop, if not in an easily accessible drawer, as it would be used frequently on rambunctious students. The sterile gauze and medical tape would probably be kept nearby, as the three were used together quite often.

Objectively, she knew what she needed. But as soon as she’d sat down, her legs had given out. Yes, Boruto could handle this part.

“I can’t believe – one moment this massive guy was looking at you like a total scumbag, and the next – bam! You decked him so fast I bet he still doesn’t know what happened!”

Sarada had made the mistake of fighting back. She knew she was freakishly strong, but who would’ve thought she’d make such a public display of it.

“It was so cool!”

What.

“What?”

“You just want to hear me call you cool again,” Boruto turned to her, finally having located the proper supplies. He wet a cotton ball with antiseptic as he exclaimed, “He was totally gonna pick a fight with me – I was gonna defend you! I was all ‘Hey, don’t you dare come into my classroom and pick on my teammates, you giant turd!’ But you totally beat me there, you made me look so lame in comparison!”

“I’m sorry,” Sarada murmured, very self-conscious.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Boruto ducked to make eye contact with her. “You should totally be bragging right now. That’s what I’d do.”

Sarada stared at her knuckles.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, stop it.” Once again, Boruto’s voice broke through her wall. He suddenly grew serious. “He knew your name, didn’t he?”

“Yeah?”

“Has he picked on you before?”

She felt cold, as if iced water had been poured over her head.

“…Yeah.”

“How often?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Boruto sighed, but he respected her wishes not to talk. What was new, really? They sat in silence as he cleaned off her knuckles while she watched.

He piled on far too much gauze, and wrapped the medical tape from her finger tips halfway to her elbow. He finished off the whole ensemble with a bow on her forearm. Somehow he’d had the time to find a marker, as he was now taking the time to sign his name on the horrible wrapping job. He even underlined it and drew a few stars around his signature.

Slowly, his hands stilled. His hands came to cup Sarada’s again, the motion strangely gentle.

“What’re you doing?”

Boruto shrugged. “I’ve seen my dad do this before. He says it calms him down.”

That made Sarada pause. He learned this from the Hokage? “Are you not calm right now?”

“I’m totally fine, but I’m hoping that it works both ways.”

“I’m fine, too,” she muttered. She knew the words were unconvincing before they’d even left her mouth.

“Sarada,” Boruto tugged on her hand to get her eye contact back. “I call bullshit.”

She choked out a laugh. “Shut up, stupid.”

He smiled brightly. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“It’s not.” Her mom was the best doctor in the village. Although she’d never broken a bone before, Sarada knew what one looked like.

“Hey,” Boruto started, but trailed off. He took a deep breath, then continued, “I think you’re strong.”

“I am strong. I just decked a kid and sent him flying ten feet.” The scene had been horrific, and it had been replaying itself in the back of her head nonstop this whole time.

He shook his head. “Yeah, but I meant in the real way.”

She didn’t have a clue what that meant. She thought she should be offended, but instead it made her chest feel warm. “Huh?”

“You’re cool, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Boruto nodded, standing up. “We should go back.

Sarada followed, flatly refusing to give in and smile.

After school, Sarada went out for “second lunch,” a.k.a. “pre-dinner,” with Chouchou. Although Boruto had made her feel better, brought her out of the cycle of self-loathing she’d fallen into, now she just felt empty. Emotionally scooped out. Training in her current state would’ve been reckless, so her afternoon was jarringly free.

So she was spending time with her closest non-teammate friend, sitting with Chouchou in her family’s favorite barbeque restaurant. Her dad had an open tab here.

Sarada hadn’t really eaten much, had mostly been flipping meat with her non-dominant hand for Chouchou to eat. The girl seemed to appreciate it, so Sarada kept it up.

“It was super badass and everything,” Chouchou went on for what seemed like the hundredth time. “But I totally could’ve done the same thing.”

“I’m sure,” Sarada sighed. Back to this again?

“It goes to show what us women can do though, right?”

That sentence stayed with Sarada, even after they parted ways.

Did she have strength despite being a female, or was she strong because of it?

Distractedly, Sarada made her way home. One of Hiroki’s friends passed by her, but she gave him a look conveying how she was 10,000% done with their shit. It was so full of hatred and challenge that he scampered away quickly. Hopefully this meant her bullying problem would similarly disappear.

She arrived back home, shoulders slumping with the desire to sleep through the next twenty-four hours. “I’m home,” she called out, toeing off her shoes in the entryway.

There was an extra pair of shoes next to her mom’s. They were large and masculine, and Sarada didn’t recognize them.

“Ah – Sarada, hello!” Her mom called from her bedroom down the hall. “Give me just one minute!”

Sarada sighed. She trudged into the living room and flopped face down on the couch. She heard a crash come from her mom’s room, and then her mom exclaimed something. She probably broke something again.

A few seconds later, she heard a door open. “Sarada, could you make me some tea please?”

She groaned into the cushion, but called out, “Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetheart!”

Sarada was just dropping the tea bags into two steaming mugs when her mom rounded the corner into the kitchen. Her hair was a bit messy, but it seemed like whatever she’d broken earlier hadn’t given her too much trouble.

“Hi Sarada, how was your – oh my god your arm¬!”

After everything that’d happened, Sarada had nearly forgotten about Boruto’s messy bandaging.

“It’s alright mom, I’m–”

“Are your bones broken? Did you pull a muscle? How long ago did this happen? WHY did no one call, I had the day off!”

Sarada sighed. Her mom was getting herself worked up. If she just listened to what Sarada was trying to say, then she wouldn’t have to be so–

“Did Boruto do this? Well, it’s obvious he did the dressing – his signature sure is unique. But did he break your arm? Because if he did, I’ll march right down to the Hokage Tower and shove my fist so far up–”

“Mom, I’m fine!” She had to nearly yell. Her mom was cupping her face, eyes scanning her entire frame worriedly. “I punched a kid, and I hurt my knuckles a little.”

“Oh…” Her brow smoothed out. “Did they deserve it?”

She’d been called useless. She’d been told to learn her place. She was just a girl, she couldn’t be a real ninja.

“Yes, he did.”

Her mom nodded. “Good. I’m glad you won.”

Sarada felt like crying. It must’ve shown because before she knew it, she was wrapped securely in her mother’s arms, face smooshed just above her chest.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Why are you upset?”

“…He was really mean.”

“How so?”

“He called me names. And said I was useless.”

“Well, that’s just not true.”

“Yeah. He’s a shitty bully. And very stupid.”

“If you didn’t say it, then I would’ve.”

“But whenever he said stuff, it felt true. In the moment. And a little after.”

Her mom ran a hand over Sarada’s hair. “Whenever?”

“...He’s been picking on me for a while.”

“I won’t ask why you haven’t told me before now.” Sarada had a wonderful mom. She was the Mom of the Year. She deserved a medal, or at the very least a novelty mug.

“He always says I’m just a girl, and that I can’t do anything.”

“Well you punched him, right?”

“Right in his nasty face.”

Her mom laughed a bit, Sarada could hear and feel it. “That’s my girl!”

She squeezed her arms tighter around her mom’s waist. “Boruto said that I’m strong. Strong in the real way.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. Sarada felt the vibration against her cheek. “That boy must finally be growing up, huh?”

“I don’t get it, though.”

“What’s not to get?”

Sarada loosened her grip, backing away a little. She wanted to see her mom’s face with this answer.

“I know that I’m… strong,” she muttered, straightening her glasses. “Like you. But I don’t – how is that not real?”

Her mom thought for a moment, fingers playing with Sarada’s hair. “It’s not that it’s not real,” she finally answered. “It’s that it’s less important.”

“Than what?”

“Real strength.”

“Well, what’s real strength, then?”

Her mom smiled gently. “I guess I’d say it’s… the ability to inspire people.”

Sarada could hardly believe what she was hearing. She was inspiring to people? To Boruto?

Her legs went weak again, but somehow she stayed standing.

“Am I?”

Her mom smiled. “Of course you are! You’re strong in every way, Sarada.”

Was she even inspiring to her mom?

Sarada whined, hugging her mom tightly. She felt the tears come, and didn’t try to stop them. Her mom held her, told her that she was a proud parent. Sarada felt warm again.

The tea had gone cold, and the bags had steeped for too long, but they sat at the kitchen table and drank it anyway. Sarada did her homework at the kitchen table, and her mom accompanying her with some case files that needed reviewing.

When Sarada headed to bed that night, exhausted from having her heart wrung out all day long, she passed the front door to reach the stairway. She happened to glance to the side, and noticed that the mystery shoes were gone. Oh well, she must’ve imagined them.

Sarada slept peacefully for the first night in a long time.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the bullying incident, and even longer since the last time Sarada had seen her father. For all he she knew, he could be dead in a ditch somewhere. Good riddance.

She was beginning to think she’d dreamt up that afternoon in Auntie Ino’s tea shop, when he’d implied that he would be around more. She may head there after school, find Mei and see if she remembers seeing Sarada with an older man who looked exactly like her.

Her mind stopped wandering toward the restaurant district and returned to her classroom. School was almost over, thankfully. Shino-sensei was taking his sweet time talking about chakra types, which Sarada already knew all about. Mitsuki was listening intently, but Sarada was doodling in her notebook absently, pencil swirling over the lined paper.

To her left, Boruto was similarly doodling in his notebook. Sarada had earned the right to doodle by being a good student. Boruto should definitely be paying attention right now. If he asked her questions later, she wouldn’t help him.

“Alright, that’s all for today. You don’t have any homework tonight, but–”

Her classmates rushed to stand and leave the room. Sarada herself was taking her time, packing her stuff up leisurely and tuning out Boruto’s complaints that she was too slow. Mitsuki smiled and called Boruto an idiot, and then the two of them were off.

The three of them planned to train after school, so Boruto and Mitsuki were both waiting for her. As she zipped up her bag, she heard, “Excuse me, Sarada? Could you stay after class for a bit?”

Confused, she nodded at Shino-sensei. The rest of the class was gone by now, and Mitsuki dragged a loudly complaining Boruto out of the classroom. The door shut behind them.

“Do you need something, Sensei?”

“Yes,” Shino-sensei sighed. “I heard about what happened on Tuesday.”

“…Oh.”

“Hiroki told me this morning.” What a rat. “Could you give me some context?”

So Sarada explained about the bullying that had lasted over a month. In hindsight, it had all been rather silly. But when she’d been in the midst of it, she’d felt… terrorized.

Once she started. She couldn’t stop. Sensei nodded, not interrupting the entire time as Sarada explained various encounters. The intimidation that came from sheer numbers, their size differences. Their genders.

Sensei stopped her there. “Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself.”

“I know that,” Sarada huffed. “He just made me not want to.”

“…Explain.”

“He’d say something that pissed me off, but every time I reacted he made me feel worse for having reacted at all. Eventually I was just standing there, completely tuning him out just to get it over with faster. Honestly, by the end it had been getting kind of boring. Hiroki isn’t a particularly creative child.”

Sensei sighed. “His creativity is not necessarily the point. You can always come forward and–”

“It was my problem,” Sarada interrupted. “I handled it.”

“Yes, but not in the best way.”

Sarada frowned. “I didn’t like being a victim. And telling on him would’ve just reinforced that.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps it would’ve solved everything sooner.”

“…Perhaps.”

Sensei sighed again. “You’re very mature for your age, but don’t forget that you’re still a child. It’s perfectly acceptable for you to ask other for help – teammates, adults, anyone.”

Sarada frowned. “Would you be saying this if I was a boy?”

Although she couldn’t see much of his face, Shino-sensei sounded confused as he answered, “Of course. What does gender have anything to do with this?”

“If I was a boy, would you be telling me that fighting is fine, so long as it’s not on school grounds? Because I’m a girl, I shouldn’t have punched him at all, but gone to someone else for help?”

She could practically hear the frown in his voice. “My advice would be the same, yes.”

Sarada nodded, not entirely believing him. “Alright, is that all?”

“Not quite,” he said, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “Sarada, I understand a thing or two about attention.”

“…Okay?”

“Specifically, about not getting enough of it. Especially in my formative years.”

“Okay, so?”

“Generally, as someone who didn’t get much attention, I never wanted to do anything to upset that status quo. I wanted more friends, but because I was labelled as the loner, I felt obligated to fulfill that role.”

Sarada had no idea where this was going.

“Looking back, I wish I had spoken up sooner.”

“Uhuh?”

“In the future, I want you to similarly think of this experience with Hiroki. Remember how a resolution could’ve been expedited if you had asked for help. Learn from this, and rely on those around you. You are not to blame for what happened, but although you handled your problem, you did so with unnecessary violence. In the future, perhaps if you lean on others a bit, you can do so with only words.”

Sarada nodded, understanding slightly. “So is Hiroki in trouble, or am I the only one getting a lecture?”

“Hiroki has been reprimanded and sufficiently punished.”

She nodded again, taking Shino-sense I at his word. "Am I free to go now?”

“Of course. But first, despite what I've said,” he moved forward, putting a hand on her shoulder solidly. “Good job.”

She laughed at that. “Are you congratulating a student on using violence as an answer?”

“In a way, yes.”

“In what way aren’t you?”

“In a way, I’m congratulating a ninja on their strength, and their willingness to defend a friend.”

Sarada left the classroom unsure whether she’d been praised or scolded. Perhaps both.

And how had sensei known that in the moment, she’d been defending Boruto?

Her teammates were waiting for her outside the building. Boruto accosted her instantly, asking about what happened and whether she’d gotten in trouble for something. She barely managed to get out that the meeting was about Hiroki before Boruto immediately went on the defensive.

“He was an asshole and he had it coming! I’m surprised you took as long as you did to deck him. Seeing you all quiet and weird was–”

“What Boruto is trying to say,” Mitsuki interrupted. “Is that we’re glad everything is settled.”

“Not really. I don’t get why it took her so long to punch his lights out, when it takes her half a second to slap me – hey!”

“You deserved it,” she scoffed, walking away from Boruto and his now reddened cheek.

“I had no idea you were being bullied,” Mitsuki said, following after her with Boruto in tow. At Sarada’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “It obviously hadn’t been the first time you’d talked to Hiroki. I assume something similar has happened before?”

“I don’t want to–”

“What the hell, Sarada!” Boruto slapped her upside the head. She supposed she deserved it as payback. “Don’t be such a martyr, damn it!”

She straightened her glasses. “I’m not a martyr. Do you even know what that means?”

“I’m not stupid, damn it!”

“Well actually–”

“Shut up, Mitsuki!”

“You guys,” Sarada cut in, just before Boruto was about to get going. “I’m sorry I didn’t rely on you more.”

Boruto’s insincere pout and Mitsuki’s surprised smile made her laugh.

“Ah, so you do understand why we’re concerned?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.”

“Just – don’t do it again, okay? Geez, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat something.”

“We need to train, Boruto!”

“Actually, he needs to train. We’re pretty skilled as it is.”

“You’re right, but–”

“I’m right here!”

Chapter Text

It was getting late, the sun tingeing the training ground orange as it sat low in the sky. Boruto and Mitsuki had left nearly an hour ago, but Sarada wasn’t done training quite yet.

Sure, she could gain strength by leaning on her teammates. But that didn’t mean she was going to just stop training. She had to better both her relationships and her physical strength.

She was taking aim for the fifty-fourth time, six kunai between her two hands. Just as she was about to let them loose on the innocent targets, a voice behind her called out, “Straighten your back more.”

She turned in surprise, kunai instead hitting the ground at her father’s feet. Well, this was an ideal way to start off their interaction.

She glared up at him as he stepped out of the shade of a nearby tree. “Concentrate,” he dared to advise.

“I was concentrating,” Sarada bit out.

What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be spending time with his – well, the man probably didn’t have any friends. There was the Hokage, but he was her father's boss, so it didn't really count. Anyway, shouldn’t he be anywhere but here? It had never stopped him before.

She turned her glare on her kunai, still imbedded in the earth at her father’s feet. If she retrieved them, she’d have to do the equivalent of bowing down. Those kunai would stay there until the day she died.

“Don’t you have a mission to go on?”

“Shouldn’t I ask the same?”

Sarada pulled out two new kunai and turned back to the targets. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t answer.”

“I see.”

She was silent as she drew her arms up, taking aim.

“When the village is peaceful, there isn’t much need for ninjas.”

She frowned. “Then what do you want?”

“Boruto told me you’d be out here.”

“Boruto needs to mind his own business. I asked, what do you want?”

“To see your abilities.”

“No,” she spat, turning away to retrieve her thrown kunai. How dare he come here uninvited and have the gall to try to evaluate her for the worthiness of his esteemed attention!

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean no, leave. Go evaluate someone else’s abilities.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t sign up for your criticism, and you sure as hell haven’t earned the right to offer it!”

He looked completely unfazed, and it only pissed Sarada off more.

“You’re talented.”

“Yes, because that’s so meaningful coming from you.”

He sighed. At least it was a reaction. Her father wasn’t a machine, good to know.

“Could I please,” He trailed off, glancing away. “Can I help?”

“No,” was her immediate response.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel like being nice to you today.”

“That’s fine,” he stepped forward. “I’m not very nice myself.”

She refused to smile. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“I don’t care if you’re mean to me,” he went on. “I do deserve it.”

She frowned. This easy acceptance was throwing her off. She didn’t like it.

“But I want–” she watched his mouth pull down. “To. To try.”

“Try what?” She refused to make this easy for him.

“To be…” He paused, then finished, “To be nicer. And to spend time with you. So you might stop hating me.”

Sarada was not impressed. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Are those the only reasons?”

“…What?”

“I don’t want you around because it’s a duty,” she frowned. “Don’t make a child explain this to you.”

Her goal was to make him sweat by the end of this interaction. Sarada thought she just might be able to do it.

“I want – to help. To make you stronger.”

Her eyes widened. Strength. “Why?”

Her father frowned down at her. “Because I think I can.”

“…I’m not sure,” she admitted, glancing away.

On one hand, strength was something she desperately wanted. But on the other, was she willing to compromise her beliefs and obtain that strength from her father?

Looking up at him, Sarada could tell he wasn’t evil, per se. He just wore a lot of dark colors. He also had awkwardness in abundance, and stoicism down to an art. Thinking of how her mom fretted over him made Sarada’s blood boil, but her mom only ever said nice things about him. Well, nice things and neutral things.

“If you accept, you’ll be helping more than just yourself,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She frowned. “Oh really now?”

He propped his hand on his hip, glaring now. “I might be an awful father, but I know I’m a good ninja.”

“Like I said earlier, at least you’re self-aware.”

“Your mom would be happy, too,” he went on. “If we got along.”

She froze at that.

“It stresses her out, knowing that we don’t talk.”

“How…” Her hands balled into fists, and she realized she was still holding her two kunai. One second, that’s all it would take for this all to end. But sadly, he was too strong for her to knife down with basic equipment. And sadly, she wasn’t seriously considering patricide. “Don’t talk like you know her.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I do know her.”

She yelled, “How can you know someone you don’t talk to?”

“She and I talk. Just not often.”

Sarada hadn’t seen them interact in nearly a month. And before then – had her parents even seen each other during the Chunin exams? As far as Sarada knew, it had been two months before then when her father had last set foot in their house. And before then, it had been years.

Had he been home when Sarada wasn’t there? Did he wait for her to go on missions before sneaking into their house to sit at the table with mom and drink tea and act normal? Did they sit around and chat and act like an actual married couple?

Was Sarada the one he’d been ignoring, and not her mother?

“How dare–”

“Also,” he interrupted, “It would make me happy.”

Her anger fizzed or as soon as it's flared to life. "What would?”

“Getting to know you. You seem… interesting.”

“Wrong word. Pick a new one.”

“Skilled.”

“Don’t talk to me just because you think I’d make a good student. I don’t need a teacher.” What she used to need was a father, but she grew out of that.

“You’re well-spoken.”

“What, I use whole sentences, so that makes me worthy of your attention? Try again.”

“Driven.”

“So are a thousand other kids my age.”

“I don’t know you very well, that’s the point!”

She was shocked. Her father had actually raised his voice at her. What kind of a sorry bastard –

“I don’t know much about you,” he repeated. “But based off of the fact that you’re my daughter, and you’re not useless, I’d like to know you more. And train you a little. I’m not the best teacher, but – I have valuable skills. And sometimes, patience. I’ve trained Boruto, for God’s sake.”

She’d never heard him say that many words at one time before. “Useless?”

“I said that you’re not, yes.”

“If I’m not useless, then what am I?”

For a second she imagined him saying, ‘Useful, stupid.’

“I don’t know. That’s the point.”

She glared. “I don’t like you.”

“Wow, I’m so surprised.”

“I don’t want to deal with you today.”

He paused, nodded, and started to turn away.

“But–” He paused. “But ask – ask me again some other time. Okay?”

He looked back at her, meeting her gaze steadily. She had no idea where to begin processing what he might be thinking, so she didn’t even try. Heck, she couldn’t even tell what her own maelstrom of anger and betrayal and hope and sadness meant.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Another time.”

And with that, he was gone. Sarada stood there for a few moments, not even trying to process her thoughts. She just needed to calm down, then she could analyze her feelings more objectively.

She retrieved her six kunai, and turned back to the targets.

Chapter Text

It was getting dark outside now, the streets nearly empty in the shopping district of Konoha. Most people were hanging around the restaurants and bars at this hour, so Sasuke's walk was more or less uneventful. He'd stopped dramatically swooping from rooftop to rooftop years ago, instead finding enjoyment walking among the masses of people. He didn’t quite feel like he belonged with them, these civilians with their normal lives and nonviolent offenses. But he didn’t quite mind walking among them. It was nice to interact with the products of his efforts every once in a while.

He used the leisurely walk to collect his thoughts, opting to take the long route to give himself plenty of time. When he’d run into Boruto and the pale child earlier this afternoon, Boruto had been bursting at the seams to talk Sasuke half to death. It had been relatively painless to find out where Sarada was, but it had been some time before Sasuke could pull himself away from the energetic child and his ravings about his training regimen.

Naruto's children were odd. Besides his slightly more tame hair, Boruto was all Naruto. He barely had an echo of Hinata in him, which left Sasuke able to freely enjoy the lively boy's company. And then there was Himawari, nearly the spitting image of her mother. Sasuke couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her, let alone spoken with her. Even in their children, the family seemed divided. Unwhole. Even the universe had known they’d never be a real family.

Sasuke turned a corner on a whim, forsaking his long route for a shortcut to Sakura’s place. He supposed that he should think of the house as his own, seeing as it was built with his money and contained his own wife and daughter. But it had never really been his, even when it was just words and not yet wood frames and plaster.

“I’ll make a home, and you’re welcome in it at any time, Sasuke.”

It had been so long ago. Over thirteen years, he supposed. About a year before Sarada’s birth.

From the outside, the house was ordinary. He warily eyed the neat path leading up to the door, the entrance framed in idyllic shrubbery. Despite its welcoming appearance, the sight always filled Sasuke with trepidation. For Sarada’s sake, he’d have to start getting used to ignoring the feeling.

Sighing, he knocked on the front door. It was unlocked, so he helped himself, calling out, “Sakura, I’m here.”

He eyed the pair of sleek men’s shoes by the door. He was regretting his choice to drop in unannounced just as he heard, “Oh shi – Sasuke, could you wait a sec?”

Since no one was around yet, he allowed himself a small smile. Even after all this time, Sakura fussed and fretted as if she was hurting his feelings. It was equal parts exasperating and amusing.

“Take your time,” he called back, toeing off his own shoes neatly. Right next to the mystery man's shoes.

He stepped inside, moving through the living room to the kitchen to prepare himself some tea. On another whim, he poured an extra cup of water in the tea pot before setting it to boil.

A door opened down the hall, and Sasuke heard voices speaking lowly. He felt bad for intruding on Sakura’s personal time without any warning, but he had things he needed to talk about with her. If they continued to ignore their problems, continued to avoid telling Sarada about the reality of their situation, then how could Sasuke ever hope to earn his daughter’s trust?

He remembered the way she’d looked at him not an hour ago, as if he was both the best and worst person in the world. It was a look he understood quite well, but never in all his life had he seen it so flawlessly executed. This also made him both exasperated and amused.

“So will I…?”

“Oh sweetie, you’re very nice, but…”

Sasuke would’ve laughed, but he didn’t feel it was his place to judge this unfortunate man.

“But – I don’t understand…?”

“You were so nice, I promise!”

“But then–?”

“It’s alright! I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay…?”

Sasuke listened to the shuffle of shoes being slipped on hastily, and then the front door opening and shutting. Sakura’s weary sigh preceded her, and she flopped down at the kitchen table tiredly.

“Rough day?”

She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “You could say that, yeah.” She looked up at him, dark circles under her eyes slightly more pronounced than the last time he's seen her. “I’m sorry you were here for that.”

“It’s fine, I came unannounced.”

“He wasn’t supposed to even be here today. I’m just lucky Sarada hasn’t come home yet.”

“She’s out training.” He had watched her for quite some time. Her accuracy was quite impressive, considering her age. With the Naruto in his mind’s eye shouting about getting his head out of his ass, Sasuke had barely mustered up the courage to step forward and interact with her. It hadn’t gone well, but… It could’ve gone much worse.

Sakura smiled. “She usually is. Out training, that is.”

“Do you want some tea?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

He nodded. He was glad he'd added the extra cup. “You seem stressed.”

Sakura huffed. “Yeah, and you don’t. It pisses me off.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, making her laugh.

“You’re such an ass,” she chuckled. “If you must know, I’ve been working a lot of overtime recently.”

“Why? You don’t need the money.”

“Because I like my job. But also I’ve recently gotten an apprentice, and she’s… slow on the uptake.”

“I see. Which tea?”

“The one in the light yellow box. Get yourself one from the blue one. It’s medicinal, and it’ll supplement your nutrition.

Sasuke frowned. “But it tastes awful.”

At the look on Sakura’s face, he snatched up the blue box. Whatever, he’d have good tea back at his and Naruto's place.

She looked smug, but her smile dropped as she went on. “Also, I’ve been seeing this guy,” she motioned towards the front door. Sasuke recalled the polished, new looking shoes. “But he’s a handful, so I’m thinking of stopping that. Sorry again that you had to be here for that.”

“Sakura, I could not care less about the men you see. Unless they're assholes, I guess. Then I'll hate them,” he trailed off absentmindedly, rooting through various cabinets looking for sugar. It was the only way he could choke down that medicinal crap.

“Sasuke, the sugar is in the same cabinet as the tea. Green container. Label that reads 'SUGAR'.”

He scowled at her. He’d had a long day, that was all.

“And I know you don’t mind, but…”

“It’s pointless how you always try to hide it. I understand when it’s for Sarada’s sake, but you’re not doing me any favors by hiding them."

She crossed her arms. “I know, but it just feels kind of… inappropriate?”

“Sakura, how can any part of our situation be called appropriate?”

“…Good point.”

The water whistled, and Sasuke took the pot off the stove to pour it into mugs. He placed the tea bags in next, then added a heap of sugar into his own mug, which was already turning a suspicious color of purple. He set the normal one down in front of Sakura, then took the chair across from her for himself like usual.

She sighed, playing with the string on the tea bag. “He’s just too clingy, you know?” No, he didn’t. He and Naruto essentially survived on clinginess back in their early days, but it evened out into trust and leniency. Sasuke couldn't imagine a relationship not founded on that. “It’s kind of weird. I told him weeks ago that it was just going to be a casual thing, but…”

“But he likes you too much?”

“Yeah, a bit,” she admitted, running a hand through her short hair. “He's expecting way more than I want to give. I know it sounds awful to say out loud.”

“Not really.”

She smiled sadly at him. “He’s really quite nice, just - conceited. Doesn't have a lot of self awareness, you know? And I don't know, as of now, I just can't picture settling down with him or anything. And why should I waste my time on a guy I won't settle down with, and who's not great at sex?”

Sasuke winced at the mental image he was suddenly accosted with. It only involved Sakura and shoes, but even that was going too far. "Sometimes it's just so hard to meet guys I actually like." He nodded, eyes on the mug in front of him. He'd only taken one sip, and already he felt like vomiting.

“Stop it, don’t be a baby,” Sakura reprimanded him lightly. “And none of this is your fault, you know.”

“I still feel like it is.”

“I approached you, idiot.”

She had. He could remember it like it was yesterday. He could remember every single detail of Naruto’s wedding day. The ceremony, the reception, the happy couple. Standing outside the fringes of the lantern light, the numbness in his body, the way Sakura had looked at him like he was the world’s biggest idiot. She hadn’t been wrong.

“You did.”

“And I’ve not regretted it once, okay?” She crossed her arms and leveled him with a glare down her nose. “So don’t go feeling guilty over something that hasn’t caused any problems, and that wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s the thing,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair as well. “I actually came over today to talk about... us.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, buddy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about – well, trying to – to get to know Sarada more.”

Sakura’s eyes widened, ignoring his stilted presentation. “Oh?”

“Yes. You said once that you wouldn’t mind if I did, so–”

“No, no, that’s wonderful!” Sakura clapped her hands together, a warm smile on her face. “Oh, that makes me so happy! But I take it you’ve run into some resistance, eh?”

“Calling it resistance is an understatement.” He could recall the look on his daughter’s face perfectly. “But even so, she’s being far kinder than I would have been, if I was in her place.”

“Really now?”

“I’m going to keep trying to get to know her,” he admitted. “And I wanted to ask your opinion about… stuff.”

“Her favorite candy is anything with milk chocolate. And I don’t really know how it’s a flavor, but when it comes to anything that isn’t chocolate, usually sticking with the color blue works out.”

“...The color blue?”

“You know, things that’re blue-flavored.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Blue is a color.”

Sakura shrugged. “Don’t get mad at me over the labeling of flavors on children’s products. All I know is that Sarada likes blue-flavored things.”

He nodded, even though he didn’t entirely understand. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. She also really likes training and reading. And surprisingly, stuffed animals.”

He shook his head, but still filed away this information for later. “Do you think that we…”

This was awkward. He removed the tea bag from his mug and threw it into the sink behind him, stalling a bit for time. Despite all the thinking he'd done on the matter, he didn't entirely know how he wanted to phrase this. He didn’t want to come across as cold and callous right now, so directness wouldn’t help at all, but… it was all he was good at. “We should tell Sarada about our arrangement.”

As was expected, Sakura was shocked. Her mouth was hanging open, and Sasuke was glad that she wasn’t holding the tea, otherwise she probably would’ve spilled it everywhere.

She drew herself back up, eyes narrowing in consideration. “Explain.”

“She’s old enough.”

“I disagree.”

“If she’s old enough to be a genin, she’s old enough to know why her parents don’t live together.”

Sakura frowned. “She doesn’t know that you don’t live here.”

“I barely spend any time here.”

“I’ve invited you to, you know that! But you’re the one who feels all awkward about it!”

“I know, but I don’t…” How could he put this? He didn’t want to hurt Sakura’s feelings, but… it might be unavoidable. “I don’t want to make a place for myself here. I may be her father, but I can do that outside the confines of the home you’ve built. I haven’t done it yet, but I think that I can. But if I do it here…”

Sakura nodded, sighing, “If you do it here, then you’re establishing yourself as both a father and a husband. And that’s not what any of us need or want.”

“Yeah.” Thank god she said it.

“And if you do spend more time here…” She sipped at her tea, then corrected, “If you spend time with her at all, then you’ll be creating an expectation in Sarada that you’ll fulfill your roles more – of both father and husband. And without us explaining the reality of our situation, then she’d resent you for fulfilling one but not the other.”

“I’m glad that you understand this. It took me some time to draw this conclusion for myself, but it seems to have taken you less than a minute.”

Sakura laughed. “I’ve not just been twiddling my thumbs, waiting for your input on how to raise our kid. I’ve thought of just about every course of action that needs to be taken, every eventuality.”

“You sound like you’ve prepared everything.”

“Not really,” she smiled sadly. “Despite my best efforts, Sarada still resents you.”

“Your efforts are unnecessary. She’s earned the right to resent me.”

“If she knew the full situation, then she wouldn’t. Resent you, that is.”

“That's the hope, yes,” Sasuke responded, swirling around his tea a bit before attempting a second gulp.

Sakura slumped back in her seat, cradling her tea. “I know all of this, but… I want her to feel the same way I do, just without having to give her all the information.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“I know.”

“So you agree then? We should tell her?”

“I’ve always agreed that we should tell her. I’m just not sure if now is the right time.”

“…How so?”

“I think you should get to know her more, before we tell her about us.”

Sasuke frowned. “If we tell her now, it’ll give her a more open mind moving forward. Why do you disagree?”

“Well, her judgment of you is based mostly off of your absence. She needs to spend time with you so that her judgment can instead be based off of your presence, you know?”

“…You’re saying that she needs to evaluate me for who I am, rather than the image she’s built up in her head?”

“Yes. And if we tell her about our history now, she’ll only add it onto her unfavorable opinion of you; it won't overwrite anything. She needs to know the real you, then add our story to it. Because...” Sakura paused to take another sip of tea. Sasuke found himself leaning forward in anticipation.

“If we tell her now, she’ll never want to talk to you again.”

That was… disheartening. “You think so?”

She nodded. “I know so. I think that the best course of action is for you to get closer to her, and then for both of us to tell her about the true state of things. That way when she inevitably casts judgment on us, she doesn’t see me as some jilted housewife, and you as some heartless bastard. She sees us as Sakura and Sasuke, her complicated, human parents.”

“Okay.”

“Her thinking that you’re a lousy husband for me isn’t impacting her opinion nearly as much as you’re status as an absent father. So once you rectify the latter, we can all work together on the former.”

“Okay.”

“You look sad.”

“It’s… frustrating.”

“Well, you’re dealing with your own consequences.”

“I know.”

Sakura eyed Sasuke over the rim of her tea cup. “So what does Naruto have to say about all this?”

He didn’t want to say, but he knew Sakura wouldn’t let this go. “Basically what you’ve said,” he sighed.

“Really?”

“I came here to find a different opinion. But it seems I’ve been overruled.”

Sakura laughed. “He gets kids way better than you do.”

“He gets Sarada way better than I do.”

She shrugged. “He’s spent more time with her. It’s not like you can’t do the same thing.”

“This is going to be an uphill battle, isn’t it?”

She grinned. “Yup!”

The tea wasn't the only reason his stomach hurt.

Chapter Text

Naruto’s day had been hectic, which was to be expected. But for once, it had actually been a relief.

Today alone he’d had three meeting room briefings, a private meeting with a nobleman’s representative, and about thirty additional stacks of paperwork delivered to his desk. It was late afternoon now, nearing on dinner time.

His anniversary with Hinata was coming up. Every time he saw her she dropped “subtle” hints about the impending day, which made him slightly nauseous. The village made a small deal about it, but there were no public celebrations or anything. But their eyes were much more vigilant than usual, on the lookout for the Hokage and his wife around town, acting coupley and in love even after all these years of marriage.

He and Hinata usually planned ahead, sometimes even rehearsed a bit, but Naruto had been putting it off for as long as possible this year. In fact, he hadn’t been home in over two weeks. And that was why the notes in his lunch boxes had become slightly more… threatening. At least the meals kept coming, which meant Hinata couldn’t be that upset with him.

This year, Naruto was willing to push his luck until he ran out. When that happened, he’d have to worry. Until then, he’d gladly fill his days with mountains of paperwork until the anniversary passed. The more time he spent at the office, the less invasive questions he’d have to answer, and the less expectations he’d set for the village. And the less he’d hate himself, hopefully.

Sighing at himself and the situation he’d brought about with his own two hands, Naruto was just about to start in on a fresh stack of paperwork when he heard a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he called out. A small jet-black head of hair poked around the door, and Naruto’s face split into a wide grin, his earlier self-deprecation completely forgotten. “Sarada, long time no see! Please, come in!”

The office could be imposing, and took some getting used to. Thankfully, Sarada had gotten past that weeks ago. “Hello, Hokage-sama. How are you doing today?” She asked, smiling nervously and closing the door behind her, then stepped up to his desk.

If she was nervous, and it wasn’t the office, maybe something had happened?

“I keep telling you not to call me that,” he sighed, getting a small giggle out of her. He felt his own smile return. “What have I done to deserve the honor of your company, Sarada?”

He watched her smile turn warm and her eyes flick away, and Naruto felt his heart clench. Making Sarada happy was an easy hobby to have. Unless you were Sasuke, he supposed.

“I just – well, I had time. And I wanted – I thought you’d – I have a few questions?”

“What are your questions? I’ll answer them if I can,” he smiled gently, internally beating back the powerful urge to pinch her cheeks. The visibly apparent Uchiha genes coupled with the eager embarrassment of a child was almost too much for his heart to take. If Sasuke had frowned less as a kid, he could’ve been so adorable.

“Well, do you – where – my father… Is he back yet?”

Naruto felt his smile turn sad. Sasuke hadn’t been back for several weeks, per his mission requirements. But he was a day late, and Naruto hadn’t received any updates from him in ten hours. It wasn't unprecedented, but it was still far too long for his liking.

“He’s not back yet, but he should be any day now.”

Despite Sarada’s pout, her face seemed to light up. “Oh, I see.”

Naruto quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve never cared about his missions before now.”

“Well, he – when –” She paused to take a breath. Sarada obviously felt awkward asking after her father. Perhaps she didn’t want to seem like she cared too much. Her affection was hard to get – an Uchiha, through and through.

She eventually went on, “The last time my father was here, he promised to train me.”

“Oh really now?” Naruto already knew about this, but obviously Sarada shouldn’t know that he and her father talked about her extensively.

She nodded. “But he hasn’t been back yet.”

“I see. It’s a shame, but I’m sure he’ll train you whenever he gets back.”

She bit at her lip, then blurted out, “Maybe you–!” She stopped herself, blush spreading all across her face. “That’s not – I didn’t mean–”

Did she want Naruto to train her? He couldn’t step so obviously into Sasuke’s role, not when the man had been torturing himself for so long on how to get Sarada’s interest. Plus he was the Hokage, and barely had enough time to give his own child training pointers.

“I don’t know if–”

“No, I didn’t – I heard about this thing!”

“Okay?”

“A few months ago. I heard someone mention fire style jutsu. And apparently the Uchihas were known for it?”

“Yes, and they still are,” Naruto answered brightly. As old as he and Sasuke were getting, the one-armed man could still perform an impeccable jutsu.

“Well, I was hoping that maybe – do you think my father would…?”

He filled in, “Teach you some fire-style jutsus?”

“…Yes.”

Naruto laughed, bringing back Sarada’s embarrassed flush.

“Don’t – stop laughing at me! I don’t like talking about him, okay?”

“That’s very obvious,” he snickered. “But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll teach you some of your clan’s jutsu if you ask.”

Sarada nodded. “Thank you, that’s good to know.”

“Now, you said you had more than one question?”

“Ah, yes.” Sarada grinned up at him, back to her confident, non-blushing self. “I have some free time. Do you need any help with your paperwork?”

Naruto matched her grin tenfold. “Always!”

The two of them went through the genin mission logs fairly quickly, Naruto even internally graduating her as he handed her a stack of Chunin ones. He trusted her, and it wasn’t like Chunin were carrying out the most top-secret missions these days. They were barely one step above pet retrieval, really.

The two of them chatted idly, Naruto asking after Boruto and receiving exasperated rants for his efforts. Sarada was apparently a tortured soul, and Naruto immensely enjoyed hearing about the things his son and team got up to.

“Mitsuki and I had to explain it like five times, and Boruto still thought we were trying to swim across. But the whole point was to control our chakra to stand on top of the water, not just jump in like a savage–”

It was immensely entertaining.

Naruto couldn’t help but be nostalgic for his own time as a genin, completing missions with his teammates. That time had been nearly two decades ago, but it felt more like several lifetimes. Naruto got the strong sense that the world was a bit too good at changing.

Sarada was finishing up this most recent anecdote, as Konohamaru usually made his way into the stories solely to put a stop to the especially fun shenanigans, when the door to his office banged open. It could only be one person, and Naruto knew he’d be upset when he saw–

“Hey old man! I have dinner for your sorry ass – what the hell, Sarada!”

Naruto smiled happily and waved. “Hello my wonderful son!”

Boruto scrunched his nose adorably, scowl firmly in place. “Ew, don’t be so gross!”

“You’ve brought me dinner? You’re such a caring, devoted son! Why, I can see just how much you love me, and I want you to know it warms my heart–!”

Naruto caught the boxed meal just before it slammed into his face. Thankfully, nothing spilled.

“Why are you so embarrassing? I’m leaving – Sarada, you’re coming too!”

“What? No!”

“My dad is lame! Why are you hanging out with him when I – when me and Mitsuki are doing all sorts of cool stuff?”

Sarada crossed her arms, pout back in place. “I happen to enjoy the Hokage’s company. Stop being so childish.”

“Me? Childish?”

“Well, age-wise we are still just kids. It’s justifiable, but do you really have to succumb to the trappings of adolescence so often?”

Naruto had to stifle his laughter behind his hand, as Boruto’s spluttering fit of rage was too priceless. He’d recently noticed that Sarada used an excessive amount of flowery words when she started arguing with Boruto. And for all his son’s mental simplicity, he always followed along easily enough.

Watching the continued arguments between the next generation of Uzumakis and Uchihas was yet another immensely entertaining, unexpected event in his otherwise dull day. Obviously, these kids were more than just their family names, but Naruto had a hard time shaking the similarities sometimes.

He eventually conceded and suggested Sarada head out with Boruto, as it was getting rather late. She frowned, but nodded, stacking back up the paperwork she’d been filling out while Boruto had been raving about dastardly fathers and the betrayal of teammates.

“You staying here tonight again?”

“There’s still so much to do, I don’t think I should–”

“It’s fine, whatever.” Boruto was pouting again. Great.

Sarada’s eyes lit up as she stood. “Oh, isn’t your anniversary coming up, Hokage-sama?”

“Huh?” Boruto’s blank confusion spoke volumes.

“Honestly Boruto, it’s your own parents! You should know when their marriage–”

“It’s in two days, yes,” Naruto interrupted. “How did you…?”

“Oh, I’ve heard people talking about it before. And my mom mentioned it the other day.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So Boruto, what’s your excuse?”

“Umm…” He trailed off, eyes avoiding the both of them. “I don’t listen to gossip. I’m above that, I’ll have you know.”

Naruto knew Sarada would think that was a weak excuse, and she said as much. But the fact that Hinata hadn’t mentioned anything at home meant that maybe this year would be easier than the others. Despite the notes, he apparently wasn’t the only one in their marriage avoiding the inevitable.

Naruto wanted this topic derailed as fast as possible. “It’s getting late you two! Sarada, have you even eaten dinner yet?”

They both sighed, but headed towards the door, Boruto muttering under his breath. Naruto got up and followed them to the doorway, stopping once they were in the hall.

They both looked up at him at the same time, and Naruto felt a tugging in his chest. Yes, seeing these two together was definitely bad for his heart.

He put a hand on each of their shoulders, bending down closer to their eye level. “You’ve both done a good job today. I’m very proud of Konoha’s ninjas!”

The sentiment was entirely genuine, but that didn't stop Naruto from expecting some fun reactions. They both blushed, which he’d expected. But Boruto actually ran away, shouting out, “Shut up, you gross old man!” as he went.

Naruto was left laughing his ass off. His son was too much, really. As he wiped a stray tear from his eye, he looked back at Sarada to find her lower lip trembling and eyes shining in the light from his office. Their kids were so different, from each other and from their parents.

Sarada's body language screamed that she wanted a hug. Naruto desperately wanted to give one to her, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it’d be inappropriate. He was the Hokage. He needed to maintain an appearance that lacked favoritism, needed to keep some semblance of a professional boundary between his lover’s child and himself. Otherwise, he’d start getting all these impractical ideas about family dinners and shopping trips and spending time with her outside the walls of his office, and he knew none of that could ever practically happen because–

None of it mattered when her small arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed with the strength of a young Sakura Haruno. He lost all the air in his lungs, but Naruto hardly noticed through the warmth in his chest.

She pulled away suddenly, face resembling a glowing tomato. “I’m so – I don’t – that wasn’t –”

Naruto pat her on the head again, ruffling her hair instead of pinching her cheeks like he very much wanted to. "Don’t let Boruto run off too far ahead.”

With a nod and a small smile, Sarada turned and jogged off after her teammate.

He’d have an interesting story for Sasuke whenever he got back.

Chapter Text

Sarada was let out of school early, and she used it to her advantage. Waving good-bye to a placid Mitsuki and a shouting Boruto, Sarada made her way through the village in the direction of the training grounds. On a whim, she decided to swing by Auntie Ino’s tea shop, as it was on the way out of the village, and perhaps she was having some sort of special sale because of the occasion.

Today was an unofficial holiday, what with it being the Hokage’s wedding anniversary, and so the village unofficially did a lot of things that it wouldn’t do on a normal day. Like let classes out early, or like offering discounts at tea shops and ramen stands. Various restaurants would even invite the Hokage and his wife for a free dinner, knowing full well that it would attract more customers for the evening.

That said, Sarada had never seen the Hokage out and about on his wedding anniversary. Normally she would see Lady Hinata, usually walking around town with Boruto’s younger sister. And Sarada would see the Hokage in his office quite often.

But seeing the Hokage outdoors? Casually walking around town? With his wife? No, that simply wasn’t something that happened.

However, their anniversary was different. They’d walk around town arm in arm, visiting various parks and exhibits going on in the village, and catering to the public’s desire to see them together.

The not-so-subtle crowds of bystanders had never been appealing to Sarada. Being caught by the Hokage in such an obvious act of hero-worship would’ve been mortifying, so she’d generally avoided large crowds of people on the Hokage’s wedding anniversary. And now that Sarada and the Hokage had actually started speaking and generally being able to coexist in the same space normally, she was especially determined to avoid running into him today. Especially after her impulsive hug the other day. Even thinking about it brought an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. God, she’d been so forward.

For whatever reason, fate worked out differently this year. Walking up to Auntie Ino’s tea shop, Sarada saw a massive gathering of people outside, clamoring around the little shop’s large windows and doorway. There was only one possible explanation, and it made Sarada sigh.

Whatever, she would just go train and come back in a few hours once everything had died down. But… was there a sale?

Coming to a decision and cringing at what she’d have to do, Sarada carefully approached the lively crowd. She was still short, so she easily squeezed through the legs of the adults (mostly women) who were standing there, gawking at the Hokage and his wife like they were animals in a zoo. But she didn’t care about them. No, she was looking for the shop’s daily message board, which displayed the various specials they were having in flowery handwriting.

Sure enough, she spotted the board by the doorway. She hunched down even more, growing wary of how closely she’d have to go in order to read that handwriting. Hopefully the Hokage wouldn’t chose this moment to leave the building.

Moving between legs and around skirts, Sarada eventually got close enough to read that yes, they were having a special today. Her favorite tea (lavender mint) was thirty percent off. She’d definitely have to come back later.

She was turning away from the store front, about to brave the sea of legs once more, when a flash of yellow caught her eye. Sarada glanced towards it without thinking, thoughts of avoiding the Hokage today too slow to keep up with the instincts to be aware of her surroundings.

Ah, there they were. The way the tables were arranged, Sarada could see them sitting against the far wall, with a majority of the Hokage’s face visible but hardly any of Lady Hinata’s profile. But of what little Sarada could see, she could tell that Lady Hinata was as radiant as always. Her long dark hair was gorgeous, and her outfit was stylish but conservative. The Hokage himself was dressed casually in a button up and slacks, and seeing him without his typical Hokage robes left Sarada feeling slightly wrong-footed.

The two of them were chatting amicably, and Sarada couldn’t help but agree with the bystanders – they made an adorable couple. The Hokage and his wife were complete opposites, and Sarada supposed that opposites do in fact attract. Lady Hinata said something, and the Hokage laughed in response. Although the people around and above her cooed, Sarada’s blood ran cold.

What kind of a disgusting, fake-ass laugh was that? She’d seen the Hokage’s easy happiness plenty of times, with the grins he’d always direct towards her and Boruto. Heck, even the looks he gave her father were more tender than this one! But the look he was giving Lady Hinata right now – it didn’t contain any of the joy Sarada had come to associate with the Hokage. Was easy-going kindness and good humor not his natural state of being?

Maybe the Hokage simply wasn’t used to all this attention. Yes, that was it. He was kind of stiff, which was to be expected when he’s putting on a show for over a hundred people. The man spent a majority of his time in the Hokage Tower, so being the center of attention like this was definitely making him uncomfortable.

Sarada snuck back between the legs, eventually tumbling out of the crowd and nearly braining herself on the sidewalk. The image of the Hokage’s stiff laugh replayed over and over, and Sarada sat on the cement for a few moments. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. It’s not like she was actually close with the Hokage, so she didn’t have any authority on predicting his actions or expressions. She shouldn’t waste her time thinking about this, it was obviously insignificant.

With her swirling thoughts beaten back, Sarada got up and made her way out of the village’s city limits. Training ground D would do just fine. It was furthest away from the urban center of the city, and consisted of a large field with a small cliff face, which had a waterfall and small lake. Rumor had it that it was the favored training ground of the Hokage back in the day, and that he made the small cliff himself when mastering some jutsu. But the Hokage’s chakra wasn’t earth-style, so Sarada called bullshit.

Regardless of hearsay, Sarada liked this training ground a little bit more than the others.

Maneuvering quickly and quietly through large open spaces was training most of her peers would never consider, but Sarada wasn’t stupid. Surely not every battlefield would have convenient tree branches everywhere.

When she got bored of that training, she went to the field’s edge for target practice. And when that too was not enough of a distraction, Sarada moved to take off her outer clothes and meditate under the small waterfall’s rushing flow. It proved sufficient for a while, but all too soon her thoughts were fighting their way to the surface.

Sighing, Sarada left behind the rushing water to lay out on her back in the warm sun, allowing herself the time to dry off and accept the wandering paths her mind wanted to travel.

That awful laugh was the catalyst. And a few nights ago, Boruto had asked if he wasn’t coming home again. Was that a common occurrence in the Uzumaki household? The Hokage hadn’t commented much on the topic of his anniversary, had even been quick to change the subject. Sarada had written it off at the time, but that in conjunction with that dreadfully fake laugh…

The Hokage rarely talked about his wife, and if he did it was never in a very… overly affectionate way. He was typically matter-of-fact about her.

But Sarada knew the Hokage could be genuinely affectionate! She saw it firsthand all the time. When the Hokage talked about his son, his eyes lit up and his smile grew warm and sometimes devious. Every so often Sarada would catch glimpses of tenderness directed towards her, and it always made her feel as if she was actually being seen.

Who else… her father, she supposed. The Hokage looked at her father... in some way Sarada didn’t really know how to describe. Even if the Hokage was just talking about him, his affection was nearly palpable. He obviously held her father in high regard, respected him as a ninja and an old friend.

But when the Hokage spoke of his wife, there was… nothing.

Sometimes Sarada hated being so observant.

Sarada didn’t spend much time with the Hokage. It’s not like they saw each other daily, or that they were ever really too personal with one another. But even so, Sarada liked to think she knew what his happy expression looked like. Boruto knew it, mister Shikamaru knew it, and even her deadbeat father knew it.

But… did Lady Hinata?

Sarada scowled up at what was frankly an unnecessarily fluffy cloud. What was with the moms in this village? Thinking about her own mother for a moment, Sarada frowned. Now was not the time.

There was nothing she could do in this situation. She had no place doing anything about the Hokage’s horrible smile, and even if she did there was no clear path forward from here.

All she could do was stay observant. And really, wasn’t that a ninja’s primary responsibility? Stay vigilant in all circumstances. The moment you grow complacent is the moment the enemy wins.

Hmm, perhaps Boruto would be able to shed some light on his parents’ relationship? While he and the Hokage were only just starting to have a relationship, surely Boruto could offer some insight to his mom’s side of things.

Sarada nodded to herself, determined to ask her teammate about Lady Hinata as subtly as possible.

After redressing herself, Sarada stood off to the side of the small lake to ponder her next method of mental distraction. She could always go find Boruto or Mitsuki and ask one of them to spar with her. With all of her recent devotion to perfect her shuriken abilities, Sarada’s taijutsu proficiency had been slipping. And her arsenal of ninjutsu was frankly… reprehensible.

Her lightning flash technique was impressive, but it was the only ninjutsu she had for attacking. She’d seen it in one of Boruto’s videogames, and a library book had guided her through the technicalities of infusing weaponry with chakra. Being gifted with more free time than any of her peers, it had only taken Sarada a few weeks to show off the move. Boruto had looked about to shit himself, and she and Mitsuki had laughed their asses off at his shocked amazement.

Even thinking of it now brought a small smile to Sarada’s face. Boruto was so stupid, of course it was endearing.

Sarada moved to the field’s targets once again, this time with the intention of practicing her lightning flash move. She got in a few rounds before footsteps caught her attention. The last time someone had interrupted her training like this…

She turned around without attacking this time, and sure enough her father was standing under a nearby tree. Once again, the man insisted on looking dramatic. Whatever.

Wait, her father – he knew both the Hokage and Lady Hinata (well, surely he knew her; he grew up with her, at the very least). Perhaps if Sarada played her cards right she could dig for some information about them.

“Hi,” he greeted, stepping forward. Him speaking first felt like a small victory.

Sarada frowned up at him as he came to a stop a few feet away. She raised an eyebrow, properly conveying that he had some explaining to do.

“My mission went unexpectedly long,” he explained. “I kept you waiting, and I’m sorry.”

She kept her face stoic, but her mind went into a shocked panic. Her father was sorry? God, was he terminally ill or something? Even if he was, did she still have to accept his apology? She didn’t want to set a precedent, but–

“It’s fine,” she blurted out without her higher reason’s consent. “You’re – are you going to train me today?”

He nodded, and Sarada’s chest ached.

“Is there anything in particular that you want to work on?”

Her thoughts were everywhere at once. There were so many things she didn’t know, where could she start? Did she want to admit everything she was bad at in front of her father? Was he going to laugh in her face if she admitted how terrible she was at ninjutsu?

With a steeling breath, Sarada asked, “The Hokage said that our clan was known for its fire-style jutsu.”

Her father’s eyes widened marginally, and he nodded.

“Well, I said ‘was’, and the Hokage said ‘is’.”

Against all of the laws that governed the universe, her father actually smiled at that. “Did he now?”

Looking at her father’s small, happy smile, Sarada felt a combination of nausea, embarrassment, and somehow pride. Thinking back to her earlier musings, was this the face her father made when thinking of the Hokage?

In an instant he was back to his typical stoic self. “Is that what you want to work on? Fire-style jutsus?”

“Yes,” she answered, back straightening and head held high.

Her father motioned for her to follow, then walked over to the training field’s small lake and waterfall. He stood back about thirty feet from the lake’s edge. He looked back at Sarada over his shoulder, motioning for her to stand slightly behind him. Once she did, he turned back towards the lake’s edge.

He raised his right arm, fingers moving too quick for Sarada to read, and then curved his fingers in front of his mouth. He blew between the curve of them, and a string of fire erupted, shooting forward. The flames curled to form a massive ball, which continued to careen towards the waterfall. Upon impact, the fire exploded, turning the rushing wall of water into clouds of steam, entirely halting the waterfall’s flow for a solid five seconds.

The force and heat of the jutsu blew Sarada’s hair back and made her eyes water. Her father’s cloak was whipping out behind him, and his hair was also going a bit crazy.

She was staring at the waterfall with shock and awe when her father turned around to look at her. Sarada knew her mouth was hanging open, that the massive gust of wind had left every single hair out of place, but she didn’t care. She turned her overwhelmed expression on her father, and watched the man completely freeze.

She brought up her hands to hide her face. In the makeshift darkness, she reeled back in her emotions and thoughts. She needed to stay calm and collected, needed to remind herself that her father was definitely a shitty person, and that he needed to be more than an impressive ninja to earn her respect.

But still. That had been amazing. Objectively amazing.

“It’s called fire-style: fire ball jutsu. Our clan has mastered it for generations.”

She peeked between her fingers to see her father still looking at her, this time with confusion in his eyes. Sarada took a breath, brought her hands down into fists at her sides, and nearly exclaimed, “I want to do it too!”

“Ah, well – the technique is very advanced. Keep in mind that I’ve had a long time to perfect–”

“I’m doing that!” Sarada interrupted what appeared to be the embarrassed excuses of a grown man. “I’m going to do that, and you’re going to show me how, right?”

Her father paused, noting Sarada’s determination and resolve. “Yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon had been grueling, to say the least. Sarada’s father was a surprisingly good teacher, walking her through the hand signs patiently and explaining how the chakra flow changes from your gut to your mouth. She grasped the technicalities easily enough, but suffered when it came to execution.

The first time she failed she produced only a small puff of hot air, and all it did was strengthen her resolve to improve. The tenth attempt yielded barely a flicker of fire, and she was marginally disappointed. The twentieth attempt produced a flame for three seconds, and she felt ashamed.

What if she could never master this jutsu? How could she be an Uchiha if she couldn’t master their primary fire-style jutsu? Passed down for generations and perfected through the blood, sweat, and tears of her ancestors? Perhaps the bloodline was too dilute by the time it reached her.

Objectively, she knew this was stupid, and that bloodline did not necessarily determine one’s aptitude. She knew that every jutsu took time to master, and that patience was the best tool a ninja could wield. Regardless, her subconscious had never been partial to logic.

After the fiftieth failed attempt to form an actual ball out of the measly portion of fire she was producing, Sarada chanced a glance at her father. He would be looking at her with shame, disgusted that the heir to the Uchiha clan was so incompetent. He would tell her that he was done with her, that she wasn’t worth getting to know after all. He would leave once again, and Sarada would never get the chance to know him.

The thought burned. Even though she hated him – no, perhaps that wasn’t the right word anymore. She couldn’t possibly hate him, but she sure didn’t like him yet.

Reality didn’t match her expectations, as is so often the case. Her father was standing their stoically, and motioned for her to continue upon seeing her look his way.

He hadn’t gotten bored of her and her consistent failures yet. Maybe miracles did happen.

When the sun was dropping in the sky, adding the first few hints of orange to the training ground, her father spoke up.

“That should be enough for today,” he declared after Sarada’s 194th attempt to illicit a proper ball of fire. She'd wanted to at least get to 200 as a solid benchmark.

She turned to him with a frown firmly in place, ready to defend her need to stay out here as long as she needed to, but her father was motioning for her to come over. She took a step, suddenly noticing how drained she felt. She wobbled a bit, but managed to keep moving forward. The whole time her father watched her carefully, and then he led the way for the two of them to leave the training ground.

Two steps back and one to the left, Sarada didn’t know what to expect anymore. Her above-average stamina was the only thing keeping her upright on her noodle-like legs. Swiping her tongue over her lips, she tasted blood and felt the dryness of a mouth that’d spent the last few hours breathing fire. Her hands were cramped from performing the same seals over and over again all day. And at the end of all this, she didn’t even have a proper ball of fire to show for it.

You could read all the books in the world, but it could never actually prepare you for the real ninja world. That’s what training was for.

“Good job – today,” her father said suddenly. Sarada looked up, but the back of his head gave no insight into her father’s expression.

“Thanks,” she muttered, not believing the man’s stilted words. It must be difficult for him to lie through his teeth like that.

“I said this earlier, but it’s an advanced jutsu.”

“Hm.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about its difficulty. With time, I’m sure you’ll master it as well.”

“Okay,” she muttered, feeling only marginally better. She felt like gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe, like garbage someone hadn’t even bothered to put in a trashcan.

“…It was the first jutsu I ever learned.”

“Were you my age?”

“A little younger. Traditionally, people in our clan would learn it by the time they were a genin.”

Sarada felt her eyes burn, and if she wasn’t so completely exhausted she probably would’ve cried dramatically.

Her father glanced back, gait pausing for a moment to bring him up next to her. They continued walking through the forest together, this time side by side.

“My brother learned it when he was very young. I wanted to compete with him, so I also learned it at a young age.”

“Your brother?” God, were there more people in the world like her father?

Her father nodded. “He was very gifted. It didn’t take him long to learn it. A week, maybe.”

“Oh…”

“It took me nearly a month.”

“…Oh?” That was surprisingly… heartening.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about your progress. Everyone learns at different rates. All that matters is that you keep improving.”

Wait a second, was her scumbag absent father giving her life advice? Was he comfortably walking beside her and sharing his experiences with her? Was he genuinely trying to mentor her into becoming a good ninja?

Is this what Sasuke Uchiha was like when he wanted to be a father?

This time Sarada’s eyes burned, but for an entirely different reason.

The rest of their journey to the village was silent, which somehow didn’t feel uncomfortable. When they crossed into the city’s urban area, Sarada stopped walking suddenly. After a few paces, her father turned to look back at her, a concerned question plain on his face.

Looking up at him, Sarada couldn’t help but acknowledge how he was trying. He spent all afternoon with her, talked to her about his past, even tried to empathize with her. She knew that she needed more time to process all of this, but she felt… happy.

She could feel her cheeks heating up, and her arms came up to squeeze her stomach, holding herself back. She’d already attacked one person with a hug this week, the last thing she needed was to do it again.

“Thank you,” she smiled up at her father. He immediately looked uncomfortable, eyes darting away and frown pulling at his mouth. But he nodded, and that was enough for Sarada.

He muttered, “Are – are you going home now?”

Sarada looked leftward, down the road that would eventually take her home. Just as she was about to confirm that she was in fact heading to Auntie Ino’s, would her father like to join her, it doesn’t mean anything don’t get ahead of yourself old man, a group of women passed by. They were chatting loudly, arms gesticulating wildly. Immediately, Sarada was glaring.

“He’s just so handsome! They make the perfect picture together!”

“Sometimes I forget what he looks like, locked away in the Hokage Tower like he is!”

“And his wife – god, she’s so gorgeous. Our village really lucked out, huh?”

“Well, he is also a strong ninja.”

“Hoho, is that the not-just-a-pretty-face argument I hear coming?”

“Ooooo!”

“Oh, shut up!”

They kept walking, their conversation indistinguishable now among the general clamor of the city’s edge. Sarada watched them go, still glaring at their backs. She glanced to her father and found him doing the exact same thing. And for some reason, it made a laugh bubble out of her.

The sound caught his attention, and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

She smirked, gaze back on the women. “I also hate them a little bit,” she offered by way of explanation.

He followed her stare with one of his own. He huffed a small sigh. “I’d almost managed to forget that today’s their anniversary.”

“Same,” Sarada sighed. “I saw them earlier today, but…” But what she’d seen had made her nauseous.

“I never understood anniversaries,” her father admitted, voice low.

Sarada looked up at him questioningly, but he was still focused on the throng of people several yards away. “When you love someone, every day is special. Not just one day a year.”

Sarada felt her eyes widen as she stared up at him. Her father seemed to come back to himself, growing awkward at the expression he found on Sarada’s face. “I mean – that was – I didn’t mean–”

Her thoughts were rushing around for the second time today, swirling abstractly and not coalescing into anything useful. The first thought to fight to the surface blurted out against her will.

“When’s yours and mom’s anniversary?”

Her father paused, then gave her a sad smile. “If I said that I didn’t know, would you hate me?”

“…Only a little bit.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he offered, shuffling on his feet slightly. The apology did little to alleviate Sarada’s numbness.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Sarada held up a hand. “Next time we train, I’ll at least be able to make a ball.”

Her father’s frown pulled down even further, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Sarada nodded back. “I’m going home then.” She turned and left, fighting the urge to look back.

The streets grew more and more busy the deeper she walked between the tall buildings. Perhaps the dense throngs of people came because it was dinner time, perhaps it was because most people were getting off of work around now, or perhaps it was because of the Hokage’s anniversary. It was probably the perfect storm of all three, and Sarada was only grateful for all the visual distractions. Focusing on the outside world kept her thoughts at a low simmer, just the way she wanted them.

Her tender legs carried her deeper into the city, and eventually she found herself climbing an apartment building’s staircase, emerging out on its roof. She climbed the roof’s AC unit to jump onto the large storage shed next to it, where she plopped herself down. She kicked her dangling legs a little bit, trying to get some feeling into them other than achiness.

The wide expanse of Konoha’s skyline was breathtaking. The blend of traditional-style architecture sprinkled in between the sleek, modern towers was captivating, one could hardly bear to look away. At this angle, one couldn’t see any pedestrians, so it felt as if the entire city existed just for your eyes only. And with the low sun warm on Sarada’s shoulders, she knew that the world laid out in front of her was bathed in oranges and reds, and shadowed with purples and blues.

But Sarada had to rely on memory to know any of this. The moment she sat down her eyes started watering. She removed her glasses, folded them neatly on the roof next to her as tears dripped from her cheeks. She faced forward, to the heart of the city, and let herself cry.

~~~~~~
It was dark by the time Sarada found her way home. Her mom was a bit worried, but Sarada just hugged her tightly and apologized into the folds of her apron.

“Mom, you know I love you, right?”

“What – of course I know that Sarada... You know that I love you too, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Alright then… What on earth happened to you today?”

Sarada shrugged, burying her face deeper. “Nothing much.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.”

“I love you a lot mom. I love you more than anyone.”

“Does that mean you love me the most of anyone, or that you love me more than everyone else does?”

“…Both.”

“Well tough, because I love you more.”

“Nope, I love you more.”

“Hah! You wish! I definitely love you more!”

“I call bullshit!”

“Oh my – Boruto is such a bad influence on you! I’m going to have a word with his father, I swear–!”

Chapter Text

Unlocking his apartment door, Sasuke thought about how this time of year was always especially unpleasant. He toed off his shoes, hung up his keys, dropped his traveling cloak and shopping bag on the floor, and then tiredly flopped down on the couch in the living room. He rubbed at his temple, eyeing the cactuses in his windowsill. Sasuke Jr. and Ugh were somehow still alive, against all the odds.

In the early spring Naruto was always a ball of stress, fluctuating between being apologetic, anxious, and nauseous. Meanwhile, Hinata had always taken their wedding anniversary in stride, seamlessly incorporating this annual bump in the road into her world with all the grace of a Hyuuga heiress.

In the past, Sasuke had stuck around for it, watching the village’s goings-on from a distance. But the sight made him sick, with the villagers and all their fawning over the picturesque couple, seeing what they wanted to see. It quickly became his personal tradition to stay away from the village for as long as possible on this day, which Naruto fully understood.

But today he’d come back earlier, because for a few hours he’d genuinely forgotten all about the anniversary. Because his daughter was a badass, there was no two ways about it.

Without stopping, she’d attempted the fireball jutsu exactly 194 times, and she failed it exactly 194 times. But it had taken Sasuke thousands of attempts to get anything closely resembling his father’s own jutsu. Perhaps he should be more troubled by her inability to even create enough fire, let alone form it into a recognizable shape, but he wasn’t. Sasuke knew that everyone learns and excels at their own rates. Although Sarada had an obvious amount of difficulty with ninjutsu, he was fully confident that with enough practice, Sarada would master it. And it would be a sight to behold.

Just thinking about his hardworking daughter made Sasuke swell with pride. He’d had no hand in her upbringing thus far, but he was – well, he supposed he was excited.

Despite the terms they’d left on, with Sarada’s betrayed expression but verbal promise to continue associating with him, Sasuke reflected back on the experience as being overall positive.

Now, Sasuke recognizes how foolish he’d been in the past – past being earlier this year, he supposed. He’d always felt conflicted because on the one hand, he’d always loved his daughter, felt affection for her even though he’d never known her enough to truly love her. He doesn’t assume that he’s really gotten to know her yet, not by any means, but the way she holds herself and her words, how surprisingly insightful she is for a child – he cherishes all of what he does know. If this is what the pride of a parent feels like, then Sasuke can appreciate his own hundreds of times more than he already does.

But even while he’s feeling all of this, the voice in his head responsible for most of his bad decisions whispers that she never should’ve existed in the first place. That the circumstances leading up to her birth were all awful and wrong, and that she came so close to never living because of Sasuke’s own actions.

The circumstances surrounding Sarada’s birth had been complicated, to say the least. Obviously he’d been through worse, and obviously there were times in his life where he’d been even more lost and confused. But this period had been… significantly dark.

Pressures from the Hyuuga clan and the village elders to consider the long-term pushed Naruto to propose to Hinata, and they were to be married in the spring, as soon as possible. Sasuke had thought the date had been set so early to ensure Naruto didn’t have the time to change his mind, but he didn’t have any actual proof of that. Just a gut feeling.

He and Naruto had talked it over extensively, had discussed matters at length and had countless nauseating heart-to-hearts. They agreed that this is the way things had to be, and Sasuke had told Naruto that he would be alright. Even through all those talks, Sasuke hadn’t been able to be honest. He’d had the feeling that Naruto was holding back, and it made Sasuke himself less inclined to share his darker concerns.

Because Naruto was going to be the Hokage, for god’s sake. Kakashi had gotten away with being a bachelor because it had been a time of war, the village had more or less been destroyed, and he was already well into adulthood. It was a time of peace, the village was growing beyond its original capacity, and their generation was still young.

Although homosexual relationships weren’t uncommon in private, they simply didn’t exist in the public sphere. Coming out of a time of great conflict and suffering was not the right time to question long-accepted social norms, especially when those norms pertained to the savior of Konoha and his renegade childhood friend.

Even so, Sasuke’s pride rebelled at having to hide something he felt no shame for. But it was for the best, for the long-term stability of the village. Perhaps their sacrifices in the present would pave the road for greater tolerance in the future.

Sasuke could even partially understand where the village elders had been coming from. From the outside looking in, there was no logical reason for the Hokage not to marry the girl who’d held a torch for him all their lives. (Sasuke had looked desperately, but there were none to be found.)

The public story on the matter was that Naruto finally got his head out of his ass, realizing the feelings he’d had all along for the quiet, well-intentioned Hyuuga girl, who’d been pining after him since childhood. And so when Naruto’s future as Hokage was secured he proposed to her, their relationship symbolizing the new beginnings of the village. The union would solidify the village’s hopeful future, one of prosperity, one of cooperation between forces both outside and inside. The Hidden Villages would rejoice for Konoha’s bright future, and the clan heads within the village would finally work together for the greater good and not self-interest.

The private view of the full situation was messier than this.

Preparation for the proposal had taken more than a few dozen heart-to-hearts. It had also taken several meetings with the higher-ups of the Hyuuga clan, and one private one with the village elders. It had taken a few awkward conversations between Sasuke and Hinata, with consistently vague threats and fake smiles from both sides.

On the actual night of the proposal, Naruto had been a complete wreck. He’d been on Sasuke’s couch the entire week before, refusing to join him in bed but also refusing to leave the apartment they shared more often than not. Sasuke’d had to coax him down from numerous breakdowns, assuring him that no Sasuke didn’t feel betrayed, that yes he knew it was just a public image thing for the long-term strength of the village, and that yes of course Sasuke still loved him, don’t ask stupid questions.

Sasuke had said all of this because it was what Naruto needed to hear, and because it was what Sasuke desperately wanted to feel. Except for the last part; Sasuke always genuinely loved Naruto.

His words were enough to get Naruto off the couch, to get him to stop fidgeting long enough for Sasuke to help him get dressed up, and to get his legs steady enough to carry him out the door. Sasuke had manically cleaned the entire apartment, and when he finished with that he resorted to pacing the living room floor.

Naruto came home after being gone for an hour and fifty-two minutes. The deed had been done, and Naruto had been near tears. He’d immediately pulled Sasuke in for a hug, apologizing desperately into his shoulder. When Sasuke had told him that no apologies were necessary, that they’d talked things through and both agreed that this was the best course of action, Naruto had just shaken his head and held him tighter.

“I hate when you’re in pain, and I hate even more that I’m the one causing it.”

Sasuke had realized how indiscreet he’d actually been. Naruto had been aware of the front Sasuke had been putting up this entire time, and went through with the proposal anyway. Sasuke had maintained the façade for Naruto’s own good, and Naruto had accepted it for Sasuke’s.

He’d felt his chest shatter with a shuddering breath, and he’d held Naruto tightly around his neck, gripping his shoulder with his one arm. The two of them had clung to each other in the entryway to the small apartment, front door not even closed all the way. Anyone could’ve walked by and seen their intimate embrace, but neither of them had really given a damn in the moment.

Hours later when they were lying awake, Naruto having finally absolved enough of his guilt to justify coming back to the bed, Sasuke spoke with him frankly. Naruto had had his fill of talking, and was content to listen while running his fingers through Sasuke’s hair. Sasuke had told him about the shame of having to hide their relationship. The guilt of lying to those closest to them, and the fear of them being discovered and preventing Naruto from achieving his dream. He’d talked about how desperately he wanted to move past this, but that they never could. They would have to hide this relationship every moment for the rest of their lives, and that even thinking about that prospect exhausted him.

But he knew that this way, they could still be together. Everyone knew that public images were never entirely accurate, and really what was one more lie to be told in the interest of the public good?

He’d been reluctant, but the small tirade he’d been on gave Sasuke enough confidence (and destroyed his inhibitions so thoroughly) that he’d admitted his true fear: that Naruto would one day fall in love with the fake, socially-acceptable romance enough to make it real, to trade Sasuke for the joys of being an actual husband and father.

Sasuke had fallen silent, surprised and ashamed at himself for having gone that far. Before he could even backtrack, with his emotions raw and mind on edge, Naruto had actually laughed, the bastard.

“No, don’t – stop hitting me, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just – quit it!”

Sasuke eventually calmed down, settling into a “pout”.

“I was afraid of the same thing, that’s all.”

Naruto had known that Sakura had been inspired by Hinata’s own actions, and that she wanted to propose a similar arrangement to Sasuke. He didn’t know her motives, but if they could agree on the same thing twice, then Sasuke would be in nearly the exact same position as Naruto. He’d feared that both of the deceptions would be too much for Sasuke, that Sasuke would simply give up and leave behind the complexity of their situation for the simplicity of Sakura’s easy acceptance, or for the even greater simplicity of solitude outside the village.

Sasuke had slapped him upside the head. To knock some sense into him, he’d explained.

But apparently Naruto wasn’t finished, inspired by Sasuke’s small rant to have one of his own. He’d been worried that he wouldn’t be enough for Sasuke, that one day Sasuke would wake up with an ounce more sense than he’d had the day before, and find Naruto lacking. He’d feared that the limited amount of time they’d be able to spend together in the future wouldn’t be enough, that Sasuke would see himself as a glorified kept-man and realize that he deserved far better than the small scraps of attention Naruto would be able to afford him. He’d been worried that he wouldn’t be enough for Sasuke.

Sasuke had joked that he shouldn’t worry, because Sasuke was low maintenance enough for the both of them. Naruto had laughed, even though the knowing twinkle in his eye said he believed otherwise.

Apparently Sasuke had to set the record straight, explaining that he’d always accept whatever Naruto was willing to give him. Because at the end of the day, they would always love each other. And that was all that mattered – not arranged marriages, not public personas, just them. They both had fears over the other’s ability to commit, but the fact that they were even having this conversation proved that those worries were unnecessary.

He didn’t even care when Naruto had happily pulled him into a hug and called him a sap. After all, they were both massive saps, and they both knew it. Sasuke had nodded off to the sight of Naruto smiling dopily at him, and he slept through the whole night for the first time in a long time.

Sasuke had woken up the next day to Naruto grinning down at him and holding a set of matching silver rings. Since they were both having trouble with accepting the other’s commitment, and all that. Sasuke had definitely not cried, not a single bit. But Naruto didn’t even bother to hide the tears that fell down his cheeks as he slipped the ring onto Sasuke’s finger, kissing him through the tears that were definitely all Naruto’s and no one else’s.

They would later have to put their rings around chains to wear under their clothes, as their meaningless wedding rings had to be kept on their hands. But for the few days they spent in the apartment by themselves, they kept the rings on their hands, letting them clack together when they held hands. Sasuke discovered that kissing Naruto’s ring resulted in him getting tackled and kissed within an inch of his life. So naturally, he did it as often as possible.

It was sweet, and Sasuke couldn’t help falling for Naruto’s simple affection and warmth all over again.

Coming out of that head space, the wedding had happened less than a month later. And with it came Sakura’s own private proposal, and with that had come the planning behind Sarada.

In the past, when he’d looked at his daughter, that old fear born of inadequacy came bubbling back up to the surface. But looking at her now, he felt nothing but pride that he contributed to this small life in some way. And despite all the negatives he’d added up to this point, Sasuke was determined to outweigh them with good things. Time proved that they’re both able to work apart. But perhaps with enough patience and effort – on both of their parts – perhaps their relationship could be fixed enough that they could work together.

He eyed the shopping bag by the door. Hopefully the small gift would be enough to start repairing the damage he’d done with that last little comment he’d made today. Now Sarada knew for sure that Sasuke didn’t love Sakura, and he didn’t entirely know what face he should put on for her the next time they met.

Sasuke was drawn out of his memories and musings by the sound of scuffling outside the front door, metal scraping against the lock. Sasuke raised an eyebrow, surprised to watch Naruto scramble into the door and slam it shut, slumping back against it. He watched Naruto rub at his eyes and sigh, taking a few moments to himself after what must’ve been a hectic day.

He didn’t seem to notice Sasuke slumped on the couch, chin on his chest and legs stretched out on the floor. “Hey,” he called out. “This is private property. No loitering.”

Naruto visibly jumped, looking up. He must be exhausted if he couldn’t even sense Sasuke’s presence in the same damn room. His expression quickly went from one of surprise to one filled with warmth as he bounded over to the couch, nearly jumping on top of Sasuke in his efforts to wrap him up in a tight hug. Sasuke loudly complained the whole time, but eventually Naruto found a comfortable position pressed up against Sasuke’s side, arms around his waist and head resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Naruto muttered, cuddling further into him.

“You still have your shoes on, doofus.”

Naruto hummed, kicking his feet. One shoe went flying toward the front door, and the other arched in the air to plop a foot away. Yes, Naruto was the most skillful ninja in the whole Hidden Leaf. He was raw power and cunning, with precise reflexes and strength. He was not childish, not at all.

The man in question settled back into the couch, pressing his nose into Sasuke’s neck. Sasuke leaned his head against the top of his, pressing a light kiss to his hairline. “Busy day, huh?”

Naruto groaned. “It was aaaaawful. There were so many people everywheeeeeere.”

Sasuke huffed. “Well, the Hokage makes an interesting exhibit. Like a rare animal let out of its cage.”

Naruto snickered, shoving a hand at Sasuke’s chest. “Shut up, jerk.” A few moments went by before Naruto mentioned, “I was uncomfortable all day.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.”

“…I didn’t rehearse beforehand with Hinata.”

Sasuke sighed, “Naruto…”

“I didn’t want to, okay?”

Sasuke sighed, but leaned more heavily against Naruto’s side. He couldn’t really blame the man, even if he was making their lives more difficult.

Naruto grabbed Sasuke’s hand, thumb rubbing against his ring finger. Sasuke hid his smile, but only barely. “It looks like Sasuke Jr. and Ugh are doing alright,” Naruto commented.

“Yeah, I was surprised. I haven’t been back here in a month or so.”

“I had a clone come by and water them a few times.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Mm.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Sasuke enjoyed the temporary peace. How many months had it been since they were both in this apartment at the same time? It was technically Sasuke’s place, bought shortly after returning to Konoha all those years ago. But he and Naruto were so attached to one another that the blonde had all but moved in that same year. Every so often Sasuke thought of this apartment as his, but more often than not it was theirs.

If Sasuke was spending the night in the village, he’d either be sleeping in the bedroom here or on the couch in Naruto’s office. Naruto always used work as an excuse not to go home, but more often than not he really was working late into the night in the Hokage Tower. Sometimes Sasuke would be passing through and crash on Naruto’s couch. He’d either wake up to a mess of blonde hair and a patch of drool slowly spreading on his chest, or he’d wake up to the sight of Naruto still working at his desk, reading glasses falling low on his nose (he hated using them if other people could see him, but Sasuke had already told Naruto exactly what he thought of those glasses). Even if they weren’t doing something together, simply sleeping in Naruto’s company filled Sasuke with warmth. It was comforting to share one another’s space, even for a brief moment.

Naruto broke through Sasuke’s quiet longing to see those reading glasses again, muttering, “So when did you get back?”

He didn’t sound petulant, so at least he wasn’t upset about Sasuke not notifying him of his return. “I was training Sarada up until about an hour ago, so I got within the village’s perimeter early this afternoon.”

Naruto looked up in interest. “You were training Sarada?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, hand fidgeting with the seam on Naruto’s shirt.

“For hours?”

“Yeah.”

Naruto beamed up at him, eyes sparkling. “That’s great! Did it go well? Do you think she likes you more now? Did you use what we rehearsed?”

“Kind of, I don’t know, and yeah.” The personal anecdotes he’d shared with Sarada that afternoon had been carefully planned. He’d confessed to Naruto that being around his daughter made him too nervous to say much. He got hung up on everything he wanted to say and everything he couldn’t ever tell her, so he wound up simply staying silent, and he was worried that it made Sarada uncomfortable. So Naruto had helped him figure out a few safe things he could say that would help Sarada get to know his past a little better.

Sarada had this evil little habit of catching him off guard with nearly everything she said to him. Even the basic things she says that aren’t insightful surprised him. The fact that she said anything to him at all was throwing him off, and he needed to learn how to interact with her beyond nodding through his discomfort.

Naruto snickered. “Did you recite them word for word, or did you improvise your lines?”

“Shut up,” Sasuke huffed, reaching up to pull at Naruto’s short hair. He left his arm across the back of the sofa behind Naruto, and it was definitely not a calculated move on his part.

Naruto laughed, pecking a quick kiss on Sasuke’s clothed shoulder. “So did she live up to your impossible standards?”

He sighed, “Shut up… I started showing her how to do the fireball jutsu.”

“Ah, good.” Naruto eyed him questioningly, sensing Sasuke’s discomfort. “What else happened?”

“Ah, well – I don’t – no pressing missions right now, right?”

Naruto nodded, kindly ignoring Sasuke's broken attempt at a sentence. “No there aren’t.” He brushed Sasuke’s bangs back, eyes shifting between Sasuke’s intently. “Do you want me to make sure you get the next few days off?”

“Um, well–”

“Do you want to keep spending time with your daughter?”

“I don’t really – it’s not–”

Naruto smiled softly at Sasuke’s obvious discomfort. Naruto had always been better at addressing feelings than Sasuke. His hand traced Sasuke’s jaw, cupping his chin to tilt his head down and further towards Naruto’s own. “I can do that, you know.”

Sasuke felt his cheeks grow warm at having Naruto's obviously undivided attention. “Oh, really?”

“Mhmm. But it’ll cost you,” Naruto smirked, thumb running along Sasuke’s bottom lip.

He could feel his heart start beating faster, blood rushing south at seeing Naruto like this. Even so, he was willing to play along. “Hmm, what currencies do you accept?”

Naruto hummed, pretending to consider his response. His blue eyes darkened dangerously as they flickered between Sasuke’s eyes and lips. “Kisses.”

“Kisses?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, no longer even trying to look Sasuke in the eye. Surely his lips weren't that distracting.

Sasuke held back his smirk, instead sighing dramatically. “I don’t know, seems a bit pricey.”

Naruto paused and blinked as if he was waking up, wide eyes meeting Sasuke's once again. “…What?”

“I don’t think I can afford it. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Wha – it's been so long! You – come on!”

Sasuke chuckled, pressing a quick peck to Naruto’s forehead. Naruto was far too old to be pouting, but there he was, pulling it off spectacularly.

Naruto sighed, falling back into Sasuke’s shoulder. “You’re so stingy.”

“Mm.”

“Luckily, I’m not. After processing and handling, your payment has been accepted.”

“Ah, what generosity.”

Sasuke could feel Naruto’s smile against his neck. “So you want to keep training her?” Good ol’ Naruto, never letting Sasuke evade emotions for very long.

“My only goal right now is to help her master the fireball jutsu. After that, we’ll see if she still wants me around.”

Naruto wrapped his arms back around Sasuke’s waist, settling further into his side. “Sarada’s a smart girl. She’ll definitely want you around.”

“Hn."

“Did she seem happy today?”

Sasuke thought back to their time on the training ground, their walk into the village. “She seemed… focused.”

“I’m not surprised, she’s an attentive child. And she’s good at reading people.”

Sasuke sighed. “I wonder what she sees when she looks at me.”

“An old man with an affinity for the color black.”

Naruto entirely deserved the swift tug on his hair this time.

Sasuke couldn’t help his soft smile as he watched Naruto chuckle and gently run his fingers through Sasuke’s bangs in retaliation. He wanted to ask Naruto more about his day, if anything had happened that’d been particularly interesting or awful, if he’d managed to relax at all today or if Hinata had carried every conversation this year as well.

But Sasuke didn’t want to ruin this small bubble of peace they’d found in a day full of nerves for the both of them. He was genuinely happy to just sit here with Naruto, away from the issues that existed beyond this slightly lumpy sofa.

Naruto’s stomach growled, stopping Sasuke’s thoughts in their tracks. Naruto laughed nervously at Sasuke’s raised eyebrow. “I didn’t have much of an appetite during dinner.”

“I haven’t been here in a few weeks. Is there anything to eat?”

“Last I checked, there was some instant–”

“No.”

“Aw, babe, don’t be like that!”

“Don’t call me – I’m not eating fucking ramen, Naruto.”

“But I’m hungry, and that’s all we have here!”

Sasuke’s sighed again. There was no way he was eating fucking ramen for dinner. Naruto wasn’t the only one starving, and Sasuke wanted to eat something with fucking vegetables in it.

“Sasuke-e, you’ll go get me dinner, right?”

“Hmm, maybe.” He would. Naruto would only draw unwanted attention if he went out tonight, alone or with Sasuke. Plus if Sasuke went alone, he wouldn’t be as easily distracted as his lover, and they'd both get to eat faster.

But Naruto’s pout was too endearing. Sasuke immensely enjoyed kissing it off of Naruto’s lips. He also immensely enjoyed Naruto frustratedly muttering, “Finally,” as he quickly deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue between Sasuke's lips and earning a small moan for his efforts.

When they eventually came up for air, Sasuke was panting slightly as he hazily enjoyed the flush that’d spread to Naruto’s cheeks and the tip of his nose. It was cute.

“You look really cute like this.”

“Shut up,” Naruto snickered, sagging back against Sasuke’s arm and running his fingers along Sasuke’s cheek. “Your face is super red.”

Yes, that was because Sasuke was on fire. “Shut up.”

Naruto leaned in to lightly nip at Sasuke’s neck. “Now I’m hungry in a different way,” he muttered, warm hand gently pulling aside Sasuke’s shirt collar for more room to work.

A wave of warmth flooded his chest, and Sasuke didn't even try to stop the embarrassed laugh that bubbled up. He tilted his head back as he muttered, “I’ll go get us food, then we can eat and you can do what you want.”

"Ooo, really?" Naruto lightly sucked on his collarbone, then kissed his way up to Sasuke's newly exposed pulse, fluttering away under Naruto's lips.

Naruto moved up to Sasuke's ear, his fucking weak spot. "Whatever I want?” he whispered, sending chills up Sasuke's spine. He tightened his hold around Sasuke's waist, and Sasuke may or may not be seeing stars right now.

“Mm…" He barely managed to cut off his moan. "Maybe. Be patient.”

He felt Naruto’s smile press under his jaw before he pulled away, expression mock-serious.

“If I said that I wanted ramen, would you be mad at –?”

“Damn it Naruto, you’re eating some damn vegetables.”

Because he was getting soft in his old age, Sasuke wound up getting ramen for Naruto after all. But he did force the man to eat some of his steamed vegetables, which Naruto did happily. And when Naruto started getting handsy again, Sasuke enthusiastically went along with whatever Naruto wanted.

Chapter Text

The day after the Hokage’s anniversary, Sarada was waiting in the living room, feet kicking against the base of the couch. Mom was in the kitchen, turning it into a disaster on her quest to cook a week’s worth of meals that could be frozen. She was scheduled to work a lot this week, so Sarada wouldn’t see much of her. But even when her mom was busy, she was still responsible, ensuring that her daughter at least wouldn’t starve in her absence.

In fact, Sarada hadn’t seen much of her mom lately. Between independent and team training, classes, and finding time to sleep in between, Sarada barely had enough time to justify showering at night. And while she’s been seeing less and less of her mom, the parent she actually liked, she would be seeing more and more of her father.

Even though they’d only trained once, and even though her father had said… what he’d said about her mom, Sarada knew in her gut that he’d fulfill his promise to keep training her.

She supposed she should be upset that her father doesn’t love her mom, but Sarada felt oddly calm about the knowledge. Maybe she hadn’t truly processed it yet?

A particularly loud clatter from the kitchen broke Sarada out of her thoughts. She smiled to herself as she spoke up, “You know I can cook simple dishes, right mom? And I can always eat out for dinner–”

“What?!” Sarada’s mom yelled from her place in front of the stove, where she was alternating between stirring four different pots, all with the same spoon. “No way, I’m not having my daughter – I need to make sure you’re eating healthy, okay? I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me!”

“Fine,” Sarada huffed. “But you know you don’t have to worry about my lunch for today, right?”

“Of course I remember! You’re going out with… a friend?”

“Chouchou, Mom!” Sarada was taking the afternoon off, damn it. She had run herself ragged yesterday, and she had more pressing issues at the moment - and Chouchou would be the perfect person to talk about them with.

“I knew that! I was testing you!” Sarada rolled her eyes. Her Mom definitely hadn’t been testing her.

The doorbell rang, and Sarada bolted up to get it. “Bye Mom, see you tonight!” Sarada called back, slipping on her sandals and gathering up the bag she’d left next to the door.

“Wait, Sarada–!” Her mom poked her head around the corner, eyeing Sarada worriedly. “Tonight? Are you staying out late?”

Sarada shrugged. “I never know what’s going to happen with Chouchou. And I might train after?”

Her mom frowned, but nodded. “I guess,” she said warily, walking up to Sarada. She opened her arms, and Sarada was quick to give her mom a hug. “I’m glad you’re taking the time to be social,” her mom said, pressing a kiss to the top of Sarada’s head. “Be safe, alright?”

Sarada grinned up at her mom. “Mhmm!” She went to open the door, saying, “Hey Chouchou,” when her mom exclaimed–

“And remember, I love you, sweetheart!”

For any of her classmates, that probably would’ve been embarrassing enough to send them to an early grave. Chouchou’s smirk told Sarada that she saw it that way. Thankfully, Sarada wasn’t an asshole.

“Love you too, mom!” She smiled back at her, waving as she closed the door.

“Aw, that’s so cute Sarada!”

“Stuff it Chouchou, I love my mom,” Sarada pouted. “She’s the mom of the year, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

Chouchou laughed, but Sarada had been entirely serious.

Sarada sighed, leading the way away from her front door. “So where did you want to get lunch again?”

“Hmm, barbecue sounds pretty good right now.”

“Whaaat? We always–”

“Maybe noodles. Yakisoba would be tasty.”

Sarada rolled her eyes. “That’s a festival food, you idiot.”

“Hmm…” Chouchou seemed to think for a moment, then exclaimed, “Well, barbecue it is!”

“Oh my god – you know there’s foods other than just meat and noodles, right?”

Chouchou shook her head with a smile. “Not any that’re worth having.”

They chatted as they leisurely walked through the city, passing through the midday crowds easily. Sarada commented on things nearby, while Chouchou turned them in dramatic backstories.

“He looks kind of weird, wearing a hood and sunglasses in the middle of spring.”

“Sarada, you don’t know? He’s the village vampire. Sunlight is bad for him! Be a bit more considerate before you cast dispersions on other people, okay?”

“It’s ‘aspersions’, but alright. So what about the woman standing next to him? She seems too normal to –”

“His prey.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

It was entertaining to see the world through Chouchou’s eyes. She was a simple girl with an overactive imagination and a good sense of humor. She had no qualms airing out her own dirty laundry for comedic effect, and wouldn’t spare her friends from her frankness. Sarada found Chouchou’s take on life to be a refreshing change of pace from the ninja world, where everyone is taught deception at a young age.

It was this frankness that Sarada was hoping to take advantage of today. The image of the Hokage's fake smile from yesterday resurfaced, and Sarada had to repress her feelings of discomfort at recalling it. Chouchou was always plugged in to the village’s gossip, so perhaps she knew something of the Hokage’s marriage that wasn’t widely known.

They entered the barbecue restaurant, the owner enthusiastically greeting the child of the Akimichi clan. They were given a table immediately, and before they even sat down Chouchou somehow managed to order half the menu.

Once they were settled, she turned to Sarada with a straight face. “You’re paying, right?”

“What? No way, we’re getting separate checks.”

“Ehhh? So stingy!” Sarada rolled her eyes. Chouchou went on to ask, “So why did you want to get lunch?”

Sarada froze, caught off guard. “Eh? What makes you – why can’t we just get lunch? We’re friends, right?”

“Best friends,” she nodded, idly sipping at her water. “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell when you have ulterior motives.” Realization dawned on her face as she exclaimed, “Oh, I get it! Is this a date?”

Sarada rolled her eyes again. “Chouchou, you and I both know that’s not the case.”

“You don’t know me, maybe I’m into girls or something.”

“Well are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into girls?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Well!”

Chouchou grinned. “You wish you could handle me, Uchiha."

Sarada rubbed at her eyes in frustration, tilting her glasses in the process. “Why is everything always about dating with you?”

“Romance sounds so fun, doesn’t it?”

A girl is swept off her feet by a dashing young man. She has to leave everything familiar behind, cater to the man’s whims. They devote themselves to each other, losing touch with the outside world as their codependency grows. The girl becomes kind and patient and soft, struggling to keep the man interested when he was the one to corner her into domesticity in the first place. Then the man eventually loses interest in the now dull girl and in maintaining the façade of their happiness. “No, not really.”

“What? Come on. The idea that someone could just get you – isn’t that nice?”

Sarada scowled and sat up straight. “I don’t want anyone to have me.”

“Could you not be such a feminist stereotype for two seconds? I mean someone that understands you. Like if I’m hungry but I don’t say anything, but my mom still knows to offer me food. Like that!”

Sarada frowned. “Could you not be such a fat-best-friend-and-sidekick stereotype? Not all examples have to relate to food.”

There was a beat of silence, and then they both burst out laughing. Chouchou was wiping away stray tears as the waiter brought out their first two plates of meat, and Sarada was smiling widely for the first time in a while. Chouchou was laying out pork on the grill, still chuckling to herself.

Someone that could understand, huh? Maybe that would be nice. But surely one could get that out of a friendship, right?

As he'd been in the back of Sarada's mind all morning, the Hokage came to mind. He was friends with her father, had been for quite some time. If the stories – some told by the Hokage himself – were true, then surely they were the perfect example of how romance isn't necessary for a lasting bond.

She sighed, thoughts of the Hokage reminding her of her ulterior motives. “You were right before. I did ask you out for a reason.”

“A reason other than my sparkling personality, right?” Chouchou winked, and Sarada giggled.

“Yeah sure,” she smiled, laying out some meat for herself on an empty corner of the grill. Chouchou actually left her some space this time, how kind. “So, you know how the Hokage’s anniversary was yesterday?”

Chouchou cringed even as she started poking at her pork cutlets. “Ew, don’t remind me. Old people love is gross.”

Sarada laughed, “Oh, please!”

“I’m serious, the Hokage is suuuper old. He’s like, as old as my dad. That’s freaking ancient.”

She smiled as Chouchou eagerly flipped her meat over. “Yeah, whatever. Subjective definitions of oldness aside, I actually saw them when they were out and about.”

“Hah? Gross, were they being all coupley like everyone always says?”

“Well,” Sarada hesitated. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about.”

Chouchou grabbed some meat off of the grill, stuffing her mouth beyond capacity, and then raised her eyebrow at Sarada. Like she was the weird one.

“I mean, it’s probably nothing! It was probably a weird angle, or a weird point in the conversation or something! Honestly, I don’t really have much more than a gut feeling as evidence, and those usually can’t be trusted, right? Mine’s not particularly reliable – I get indigestion quite a lot actually, so maybe–”

“Holy crap Sarada, breath,” Chouchou said, through her mouthful of meat. She even flipped Sarada’s portion for her.

Sarada inhaled, suddenly realizing how empty her lungs had somehow become. She anxiously flattened her bangs as she muttered, “It’s just – this is weird for me to mention. I feel weird mentioning it.”

“Anyway…” Chouchou leaded.

“Anyway… Do you know if maybe… the Hokage…” Sarada steeled herself, then whispered loudly behind her hand, “Doesn’t love his wife?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she slapped her hands over it. She should be hung at the stake for this. Wait, burned? Gallows are where people are hung. Regardless, Konoha had neither. Oh, but this was bad, this was so bad, she was disgusting for even suggesting–

“Eh, he probably doesn’t.”

What. What. “WHAT.”

“I mean think about it,” Chouchou said, leaning back in her seat, chewing calmly as if she didn’t just shake the foundations of their Hokage’s morality. “Aren’t marriages between important people usually just political? If they weren’t actually in love, I wouldn’t be super surprised.”

Sarada’s brain-to-mouth filter was nowhere near functioning. “But – Chouchou, how could you – he’s the Hokage, for shit’s sake!”

“Boruto sure is a bad influence on you.”

“Chouchou!”

“I like it.”

“Chouchou!”

“Eat,” She sighed, shoving a piece of Sarada’s now tough meat towards Sarada’s face. She ate, but reluctantly. Their waiter came back with bowls of rice and an assortment of side dishes, pickled radishes and thin slices of cucumber in vinegar catching Sarada’s eye. Chouchou wrinkled her nose at the vegetables, but Sarada was thankful for something to cut through the protein.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Chouchou continued, watching indifferently as Sarada attacked their side dishes. “You know how many people actually marry for love? Not many. Usually it’s just convenience and loneliness that drives people together, right?” She paused, looking off into the distance as if she was recalling something. “I mean, do they even talk that much?”

Sarada didn’t know. “I don’t know.”

“Do they talk about each other much?”

The Hokage didn’t. “The Hokage doesn’t. Not to me, anyway.”

“The Hokage is always working, right? Aside from their anniversary, when was the last time he even went home?”

Boruto would know. “Boruto would know. Probably.”

Chouchou frowned as she flipped her meat over. “Damn Sarada, now you got me all interested. You’re not giving me any answers either, just questions.”

“Well…” Sarada fidgeted, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. “It’s probably nothing. I’m probably imagining it.”

“Well, what made you think about this in the first place?”

“Ah, well – when I – they were in Auntie Ino’s tea shop…”

“Yeah?”

“And the Hokage just seemed… uncomfortable.”

“…That’s it?”

“Well –!” Sarada exclaimed with a loud sigh. “Boruto implied that the Hokage hadn’t been home in a long time, and the Hokage had been reluctant to talk about his anniversary – and Boruto hadn’t even known when it was, so it obviously isn’t something his parents talk about normally – or Boruto’s just stupid, that’s entirely possible.”

“Okaaay,” Chouchou groaned, rubbing her forehead with one hand as she ate with the other. “Anything else?”

“Well, just…” Sarada trailed off, frowning again. She’d left one slice of beef alone for so long that it was starting to burn in the corner of the grill. She made no motion to remove it.

Earlier she'd thought of the friendship between her father and the Hokage. Even though their ways of showing happiness were different, Sarada could tell when two people enjoyed each other’s company. The way her father’s eyes softened, the Hokage’s wide, bright smile –

And the one he'd given his own wife.

“It’s mostly… a feeling that I have. A gut feeling,” she muttered, then quickly stuffed her face with more cucumber.

Chouchou sighed, crossing her arms and eyeing Sarada seriously. “So why are you telling me about this feeling you have?”

“I thought that maybe you’d have some sort of gossip that would prove me… wrong?”

She hummed, taking her time to respond and filling in the silence with more eating. They were out to lunch, after all. Sarada was the one too anxious to eat anything heavier than a few cucumber slices.

Her friend swallowed, then admitted in a low voice, “As far as I know, when she’s not at home, Lady Hinata spends her time at the Hyuuga compound.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, Metal Lee said that he heard from his Auntie Ten Ten that Lady Hinata is pretty weak. Like, physically.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“She’s all delicate and princess-like, somewhat sickly. It’s nauseating to see someone play so strongly into the rich female trope.”

Sarada rolled her eyes, finally grabbing her burned meat with some pickled radish to help her choke it down. She’d made her mistake, and now she had to eat it. “It’s not like she can help it, you know. Sometimes people are just sickly.” And sometimes they’re just strong. Too strong.

“Whatever. The point is, Lady Hinata never goes to the Hokage Tower herself.”

“…Never?” That knowledge was genuinely surprising.

Chouchou shook her head. “Never. Aside from official business, no one ever sees her there.”

Sarada hummed to feign attention, but her mind was whirring away. Lady Hinata didn’t make efforts to see the Hokage? And the Hokage never went home, that was pretty obvious at this point. Perhaps they were so close that… they never needed to see each other? That sounded idiotic, even to someone as romantically-challenged as Sarada. If you love someone, shouldn’t you want to spend your free time with them? How do the Hokage and Lady Hinata spend their free time? Who do they spend their free time with?

This is ridiculous, of course they loved each other! Lady Hinata always sent the Hokage a homemade bento lunch! If that wasn’t love, Sarada didn’t know what was, that’s for sure.

…Okay, so maybe that was a bit ridiculous.

“Hey Sarada,” Chouchou interrupted her thoughts, waving a piece of meat in her face. Sarada leaned forward and ate it, and Chouchou wasn't even phased.. “I know you really look up to the Hokage and everything, but… no one is perfect, you know? People can fall in love and get married, and then fall out of love and stay married. It happens all the time.”

“…I guess.”

Her role model was just another fallible human being. Sarada’s heart was pumping too fast, and the table in front of her was starting to turn fuzzy. Is this a heart attack? No, Sarada was far too young for that. Panic attack? Yeah, it was probably just anxiety. Great.

“I mean, the Hokage and Lady Hinata have been married for what – ten years?”

“Fourteen,” Sarada muttered in between deep, measured breaths.

“Right, sure. I mean think about it, it’s pretty hard to love someone with your entire heart for fourteen years, wouldn’t you think?”

Sarada shrugged as she reached for her water glass. She took several gulps, and Chouchou was kind enough not to comment.

When her world felt steadier, Sarada wondered aloud, “I thought you like romance and all that shit. Why are you of all people so cynical about love?”

Chouchou tilted her head as she placed more meat on the grill. “It’s not that I’m cynical, it’s that I’m realistic. The idea of having a soul mate is nice and all, and I wish I could get some of that for myself. But at the end of the day, most people never meet their soul mate, right? But people still get married, right?” Chouchou took a break to eat some more. With her mouth full, she went on. “The way I see it, if you marry someone you can even tolerate, you’re better off than most.”

Sarada sighed, “Maybe you’re right.”

Now it was Chouchou’s turn to shrug. “Although, you of all people should be cynical about love.”

Sarada paused, frowning. “I mean, I am. But what do you mean ‘you of all people’?”

“I mean, your dad sure goes on a lot of missions. When was the last time your parents even saw each other? Were even in the same room as each other?"

Her frown deepened. “Hey, what are you implying?”

Chouchou lifted an eyebrow. “What, did I go too far or something?”

She sighed, pushing a random bit of meat around on the grill. “Not really. In fact, I have evidence to support you.”

“Ooo, really?”

“Could you not be so overly interested in my parent’s sham of a marriage for like, five seconds?”

“I’m just showing support for a close friend. Don’t define my perspective, man.”

Sarada rolled her eyes, then settled in for the more serious topic. After relaying exactly what her father had said yesterday, Chouchou was unnervingly silent.

“Well?” Sarada pushed. “What do you think?”

Chouchou looked sad, slightly pitying even. “I think your dad as good as told you that he doesn’t love your mom. I’m sorry, Sarada.”

Sarada sighed, slumping back against the booth seat. “That’s what I thought myself, but hearing it from someone else is like hammering the final nail in the coffin of my faith in my parents’ relationship.”

Chouchou held up another piece of meat. Sarada ate it, but only because her body needed nutrients to continue functioning optimally. She barely tasted it as she swallowed it down.

“So many shams in one conversation,” Chouchou muttered before eating some more pork.

“Do you think…” Sarada trailed off, lost in the sudden clamor of her thoughts.

That… was an interesting observation, Chouchou. A mother that largely stays home, while the father devotes a bit too much of himself to his job? Children who’re largely kept in the dark, while adults plaster on smiles for the comfort of their audiences? Yes, when you thought of it like that, it sounded remarkably similar to her own parents’ situation.

And Sarada knew her father didn’t love her mom. That was a fact, he’d practically admitted it himself. Perhaps the Hokage feels similarly towards his own wife - and what if she feels the same towards the Hokage? And if so, for how long have they felt this way?

And if that's the case for them, what about her own parents' similar situation. That would mean that... What if Sarada’s mom didn’t love her father?

Oh, that… that would change things.

Chouchou interrupted her thoughts once more. “Maybe you should ask your mom about it? She’s known the Hokage for a long time, right? Lady Hinata, too. Maybe she can give you some answers?”

“Yeah, that’s… that's a good idea, thanks,” Sarada muttered.

“Just make sure you give me updates. I'm super invested now.”

Sarada smiled. Chouchou was weird, but so was she. And when it came down to it, she really appreciated the easygoing friendship they'd cultivated.

Yes, Sarada would talk to her mom. But she would ask about more than just the Hokage and his wife.

Chapter Text

Sarada was walking with a purpose down the streets of Konoha, on her way to sort all of this out when she was barreled into from behind.

“Sneak attack!” Someone yelled behind her. No, not someone–

“Damn it, Boruto!” She shouted from her position face planted into the sidewalk. “That doesn't count! And that hurt!”

“Oh, oops,” he muttered, reaching a hand down to help her up.

“Imbecile,” she muttered, dusting off her hands and legs. Now she had a skinned knee and her palms were tender. Oh, Boruto was going to bleed for this.

“I just saw you and thought I could finally win a round of sneak attack.” If it was possible to grin apologetically, Boruto had somehow discovered it. “Sorry, didn't think that'd actually work.”

Sarada rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you got me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I only win when you’re distracted. What’re you up to?”

Sarada raised an eyebrow. She had been on her way to get some answers from her mom, but perhaps she could delay that conversation for another one that'd be just as productive.

But Boruto would have no interest in... matters of the heart. While she couldn't just ask him point blank questions about his father, maybe she could get his help some other way?

“I'm on a mission,” she whispered, hand coming up to slightly hide her face. She narrowed her eyes and glanced around suspiciously to help sell her story, and if the way Boruto’s eyes lit up was any indication, she already had him on board.

“What kind of mission? Is it a secret – oh, should I be whispering too?”

She held back her triumphant smirk. Boruto could be so predictable.

“This area is compromised, follow me.” She motioned for him to follow, and together they walked to a relatively deserted alley. They could easily see the hustle and bustle of the city at the mouth of the alley, but the noise was muted, as if they were underwater and staring up at the surface.

Sarada glanced around, found a relatively clean stack of boxes, and sat down. Boruto leaned against the opposite wall, eyeing their new, more suspicious setting. He looked wary, as if he was expecting someone to come attack them, which was entirely Sarada’s fault.

“First things first,” she said suddenly, making him jump. “You need to promise me you won't tell the details of this conversation to anyone, understood?”

He nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

“Second, as I'm about to disclose sensitive information to you, I need you to promise to see this mission through to the end. By hearing this conversation, that's what you're agreeing to.”

Boruto nodded, eager this time. “I promise!”

Aw, his eyes were practically shining with excitement. He was going to be so pissed when he heard what Sarada was actually investigating.

“Lastly…” Damn, she couldn't think of a third thing. All official things had third things! What have people put third in the past? What was some generic thing she could use to really sell this?

“You might die,” she blurted out. Technically it wasn’t a lie. Anyone could die at any time, anywhere. “Are you prepared to deal with those consequences?”

Sarada watched a shiver run up Boruto’s spine.

“How the hell did you of all people get such an interesting mission?!”

“Are you prepared?”

“Yeah yeah, I'm prepared! Tell me what's happening, please!”

Woah, she even got a please out of him? He was going to be sooo pissy.

She nodded to herself. “I've decided to trust you. Don't make me regret it.”

Boruto’s face was starting to turn pink. Maybe Sarada was taking this ruse a little bit too far.

“What-whatever,” Boruto muttered, scratching at the back of his head. “Just tell me already!”

Sarada took a deep breath to play up the theatrics of the moment. She wasn’t quite ready for the tirade she’d have to weather, so she decided to ease Boruto into the truth of the matter. "I've unearthed some top secret information regarding the Hokage.”

He frowned. "My dad?”

“No, the other Hokage,” she sassed, too quick to bite it back.

Boruto huffed, mouth turning up on one side. “You know what I mean. I'm just – what was it you said? ‘Expressing my disbelief’?”

Sarada nodded. It was nice to Boruto knew how to listen, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

“So what about my old man, hah? Ooo, is there an assassination plot? Is there government corruption – oh, bribery? Did he cover something up?”

Sarada managed to contain her laughter, but only just. He was going to flip when she told him about–

Wait a second. Was she actually about to tell a child, her good friend, about his parents’ loveless marriage? Sure, she was well-adjusted and had the emotional distance from her father to see her parents’ situation rationally, but Boruto was as mature as a tadpole.

God, what was wrong with her? How did she not think this through properly? Damn Boruto for tackling her and scrambling her brains. Maybe she could still salvage this.

“It's nothing that exciting,” she hastily backtracked. “It's just… sensitive.” At Boruto’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “What do you know about the relationship between your parents?”

For a brief moment, Boruto stopped entirely. With his typical constant fidgeting, his body was always in motion even when he was told to stay still for the sake of stealth. But for this single second in time, Boruto actually froze, as if he'd been plunged into cold water and was still in shock and working out how he'd gotten there.

“They’re fine,” he bit out, avoiding eye contact. Ah, so he wasn’t as stupid as he seemed.

Boruto was on the defensive, but Sarada knew how to get around that. She whispered, leaning in and blocking her mouth with her hand, “My mission today is to tail your mother.”

Boruto leaned in too, squinting at her suspiciously. “My mom?”

“Yeah. Do you have any reason why I might have this assignment?” If she was going to trick one of her best friends, she may as well go all in.

“Not really,” he replied, frowning. “But wait, I thought you said this had to do with the Hokage?”

Now it was Sarada’s turn to look suspicious. “Do the affairs of one spouse not affect the other?”

Boruto’s frown deepened. “What do you mean affairs?”

Oh, shit. Sarada hadn’t meant to imply – WAIT.

“Do you think they’re having affairs?” Sarada practically shouted. “That would – oh my god.”

“What? I didn’t say – you’re the one who–”

“I meant affairs as in ‘things’! As in ‘stuff,’ as in ‘happenings’! I didn’t mean cheating. I have zero evidence of that!”

Boruto seemed to deflate. “Oh,” he muttered, falling back against the alley wall.

“But now you’ve got me thinking…” She looked to the mouth of the alleyway, watched the people who walked by.

Was it possible? It was one thing to know her own parents weren’t in love (probably - she still needed to speak with her mom), and it was another thing entirely to accuse the Hokage of the same trespass. But was the Hokage having an affair with someone? No, surely not. He spent most nights in his office, just as he always said… right?

“Do you really think…” Boruto practically whispered. “Is this what your mission is actually about?”

Sarada sighed, still not looking him in the eye. If she did, she’d give away everything. Which she would, but she needed some time to think of a tactful way of presenting this. It was her own curiosity that carried her this far, but going forward would require a level of disassociation she wasn’t sure she was capable of.

“Sarada, answer me!”

Screw tact, she’d just be genuine. “I didn’t mean to go this far, I’m sorry.”

“Oh shut up,” Boruto huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not some helpless child! I know my parents aren’t like most!”

At his outburst, Sarada made the mistake of looking up. Boruto didn’t look scared or sad or angry – just determined.

“I’m not stupid,” he stated plainly, catching and holding Sarada’s gaze with his own. “Just be honest with me.”

“My parents don’t love each other,” she admitted, voice low and eyes wide. “Well, my dad doesn’t love my mom. I was on my way to talk to my mom about it when you stopped me. And the other day I saw your parents together and got a hunch that they were going through the same loveless marriage my own parents are in.”

Boruto sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at his forehead. “You’re so – okay. Anything else?”

“Most of my information is based on hunches, so now I’m trying to get hard evidence. I need to know,” she swallowed nervously, unused to Boruto being so serious. She recalled how Boruto had handled the episode with Hiroki, had wrapped her arm poorly but determinedly. “I need to know if I’m right. And it’s not my typical teacher’s pet type of need for affirmation, but I just… I need to know.”

Boruto nodded. “So this is a self-assigned mission?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just us?”

“I asked for Chouchou’s advice, but yes,” she murmured, voice weak in the face of this practical stranger standing in front of her.

“So you lied to me to get my attention in the hopes that I’d offer up anything I have on my folks?”

“…Yes.”

Boruto nodded again, then stuck out his hand. “I accept the mission.”

Chapter Text

With her new ally, Sarada was confident that they could properly investigate the Hokage and his suspicious behavior.

She and Boruto agreed to meet up in a few days to discuss things in greater detail. For now, Sarada didn’t want to lose the momentum behind her own leg of the mission.

“Just… I hope it goes well?” Boruto had muttered, scratching at the back of his head nervously. “I mean, I know this whole thing is a bit much, but I hope…” He sighed. “I don’t know, whatever. Don’t be too sad about it. I’m used to it all, but – argh, whatever!”

After that incredibly coherent farewell, Boruto had stomped away without even waiting for her response. What a weirdo.

With new determination fueling her steps, Sarada made her way to the hospital. It had been several hours since she’d left home, so her mom would definitely be at work right now. As the lead doctor in Konoha and the personal mentor to nearly ten apprentices, Sakura Uchiha was a busy woman. But surely she could spare a few minutes for her daughter? 

Now that she was thinking about it, Sarada didn’t think she’d ever dropped in on her mom at work unannounced. She’d always been expecting her, waiting in the lobby and chatting with co-workers, happy to introduce them to her daughter before ushering them out of the building.

Would she finally get to see her mom’s work space now? Maybe this trip wouldn’t just be depressing.

Approaching the large white building, Sarada took a moment just to take it all in. With the village’s economy and population on the rise, the hospital had expanded beyond its old capacity. Based off the photos she’d seen, gone were the days of the modest three-story building.

This was the site of the main hospital, one of three, and it was huge. Dwarfing the surrounding markets at a proud six-stories tall, this new facility was one of Konoha’s key points of pride. People would travel from miles around to be treated in their top-rank operating rooms, to be seen by one of the Legendary Sannin’s pupils. It’s doctoral training program was also top notch, a nearly decade-old initiative proposed and managed by her mom.

Steeling herself against a sight she’d never been able to predict, Sarada walked through the massive glass double-doors. The lobby was bustling, the injured either waiting to be processed or on their way to their respective wings of the hospital. Though busy, the lobby was thankfully less full than Sarada had seen it in the past. Years ago, she’d dropped off her mom’s forgotten lunch one afternoon, only to find a lobby full to the brim with gruesome war victims. She’d entered the building warily ever since.

Looking up at the labels high on the walls, Sarada spotted and headed towards the information desk. “Hello,” she said, timid in the face of the massive, unfriendly man behind the desk. “I’m here to visit my mom, Sakura Uchiha?”

The man furrowed his brow, then started clicking and typing away on his computer. After a few minutes he grunted, then pointed towards the nearby row of chairs.

Sarada took the hint, sitting herself down to wait. It didn’t take long before a lady with long brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses came and found her.

“You must be Doctor Uchiha’s daughter! I’m Tanaka Ueda, and I work very closely with your mother. Why, you’re just as cute as she always says! Doctor Uchiha thinks the world of you, brings in pictures and hangs them above her desk – it’s really so sweet! Let me tell you, I can see the family resemblance!”

Sarada did not like this woman. The blatant pandering was off-putting, but she was forced to follow her anyway. They went to a nearby elevator and rode it up to the topmost floor. All the while the woman didn’t pause once long enough to let Sarada so much as offer a greeting.

Still chattering away, Ms. Ueda led the way down a short hallway to a set of large, industrial-sized doors.

“Your mother is currently assisting in a particularly sensitive research project, but if you enter these doors and head to the left, you’ll see her office. If you wait in there, I’ll go get her and send her over. She needs to take her lunch break anyways. Okay? Okay, I’ll be right back!”

Sarada scowled at the woman’s wave, but she didn’t even react. What was she?

Following Ms. Ueda’s directions, Sarada entered the set of large double doors. She was in a long hallway, and by the nameplates marking all the doors, Sarada guessed this is where all the important people had their personal offices. Turning left, Sarada quickly noticed the nameplates were in alphabetical order. Suddenly excited, she hurriedly walked down the hall, finally arriving at the second door from the end and seeing her family name.

Not sure what to expect, Sarada opened the door slowly and peeked around its large wooden frame. Beyond it was a fairly average-looking office aside from the sheer amount of work everywhere. Mountains of papers sat on the desk, on the floor, on one of two guest chairs, on the window sill, blocking an air vent low on the wall.

And Sarada had thought the Hokage was bad.

A cursory flip through the nearest stack revealed packets of data findings, charts filled out by hand in a variety of handwritings, dense paragraphs of research paper abstracts. Other stacks yielded month-old unopened mail, interdepartmental memos, patient transfer requests, lawsuits, personnel files, correspondence between the hospital and other Konoha agencies.

Just how many responsibilities did her mother have? Was it healthy to pour oneself so fully into their work like this? If she’d known just how many people were relying on her mom, perhaps Sarada wouldn’t have dropped in unannounced.

She’d just sat down in her mom’s desk chair (well-worn, but high quality) when the door burst open and her mom blustered into the room.

“Sarada, are you okay?” She tripped over the leg of the one empty guest chair, but kept right on rushing up to Sarada and checking her over for injuries. “Tanaka said you were here, and I got so worried. She said you looked fine, but–”

“Mom, I’m not injured,” she said, smiling despite herself and swatting away her mother’s probing hands.

“But you – are you sure – you’re fine?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t entirely lying. Physically, she was fine.

Her mom sighed, sagging where she stood. “Thank god,” she said, falling back into her office’s guest chair. She smiled, face warm and open. “I’m happy to see you.”

Sarada smiled back, but looked away bashfully. She felt guilty for dropping in. Her mom was obviously overwhelmed with work right now. Maybe she could just leave and bring it up next time they were both home and had the time?

She thought of all the pre-made meals her mom had prepared just that morning.

There would never be a perfect time for this conversation.

“I’m happy to see you too,” Sarada said, voice low. She twisted her fingers together in her lap, tapped her foot behind her mom’s desk.

Her mom was an observant person, and easily picked up on Sarada’s nerves. “What’s wrong? You’re not hurt, but you seem…”

Sarada shrugged, glancing up and away. “I needed to talk to you about something, and I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh,” her mom said, frowning. “Did Boruto say something stupid?”

“What? No! He’s – actually, he’s been pretty nice to me lately.”

“Did Chouchou say something stupid?”

“Nah, she’s pretty mature for her age.”

“Is it your time of the month?”

“MOM!”

Her mom cackled, ruffling Sarada’s hair fondly. “It’s fun teasing you, you know that?”

She frowned, which only made her mom laugh more. This was not going well.

“You look – oh my god, you look just like your father!”

That was as good a segue as any.

“About dad…” Oh god, she’d been wrong. That had been an awful segue.

Smiling, her mom quirked an eyebrow. “What about your dad? Is he the one that said something stupid?”

“Well… I don’t know, maybe?”

Her smile turned gentle, and she scooted her chair closer to Sarada’s own. “Sweetheart, you can talk to me. What happened?”

Her mom was so kind, so warm and gentle. What was Sarada doing here? All of this was so far beyond her capabilities, she had no experience in romance or love or marriage, didn’t even entirely understand her parents’ dynamic – who was she to meddle in all this? And what if she dug up all these negative feelings, between her parents and between families, only to be wrong? She could seriously hurt people, but today it was her mom at risk.

“I don’t – should’ve have come, I’m sorry,” Sarada stammered out, feeling overwhelmed.

“Sarada, what are you–”

“I don’t want – want you to be upset,” she said. She could hear how wobbly her own voice was, and was sure her mom was picking up on it too.

“What did your father do? I swear, I’ll kill him without batting an eye.”

Sarada’s lips quirked into a smile, there and gone in an instant. She had no doubts her mom would take on her father if she saw fit.

“Sweetheart, you can ask me anything, I promise.”

“It’s… I’m just going to ask, okay?”

“Alright sweetie,” her mom said, voice low and gentle. She leaned forward and tenderly swept Sarada’s bang’s back behind her ear. “Go right ahead.”

“…Do you love father?”

Confused, her mom frowned. “Of course I do. What’s that supposed to–”

“I’m sorry mom,” Sarada whined. She could feel the tears welling up, could feel her chest growing tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait, Sarada what’s going on? Tell me what–”

“Mom,” she said, voice whisper-soft and shaky. “I don’t think he loves you back.”

For a moment, it felt like time froze. Sarada was reminded of how just an hour or so ago Boruto had frozen in a similar fashion, shocked and trying to process Sarada’s meaning. The guilt was welling back up with a vengeance, and Sarada knew what to expect now from experience. Her mom would go on the defensive, she’d deny–

“Oh shit, what did he tell you?”

Sarada narrowed her nearly overflowing eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Did he – did he – damn it, we were supposed to tell you together!”

“What do you mean?” Sarada sniffed, wiping at her eyes under her glasses.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ll explain once you tell me exactly what your idiot father told you.”

She wasn’t angry? She wasn’t defensive, wasn’t shouting about Sarada sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, wasn’t laughing this all off as the overactive imaginings of a teenager? Sarada should take advantage of her luck while she still could.

She quickly explained what had happened yesterday after her training session with her father. Her mom rolled her eyes and muttered something about the dramatics of middle-aged men, but otherwise just listened.

“So that’s – that’s why I thought that maybe he was… lying to you,” Sarada finished lamely.

Her mom sighed, running a hand through her hair tiredly. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it’s only taken you this long. I was hoping to avoid this conversation until you were at least an adult, but…” She sighed again.

“Mom? Are you okay? Did I – did I mess up?”

“Oh, sweetheart no!” Her mom pulled her in for a hug, kissed the top of her head and held her close. “You didn’t mess up, you’re just too smart for me these days.”

“Oh…” Sarada gripped her mom back, relieved that she hadn’t just shattered her mother with her tactless intrusion into her marriage.

“I love you more than anything, you know that?”

Sarada nodded, pressing her face closer into her mom’s shoulder. “I love you too mom.”

As far as marriage-breaking conversations historically went, this one was probably the best.

After a few moments Sarada pulled away, looking intently up at her mom. “So you need to explain now, right?”

“Darn, do I?”

“It’s okay for you to curse mom. You did such a good job earlier!”

“Why you–!” Sarada giggled, and her mom fiddled with her hair again. Her mom’s face turned sad. “I just wanted you to be a happy child, for you to deal with this topic when you were a mature adult. I guess I didn’t plan for how mature you’d be at this age.”

Sarada was about to ask a follow-up question, but her mom shook her head.

“I need to go deal with some work really fast,” she muttered, still absently running her fingers through Sarada’s hair. “But when I come back I promise I’ll have time to explain everything, okay?”

Sarada nodded. “Okay,” she muttered, meeting her mom’s small smile with one of her own.

With a kiss on the forehead, her mom picked up two towering stacks of folders like they were nothing, winked, and left her office. Sarada practically fell back against her chair, sighing in relief.

That could’ve gone much worse, she supposed. At that was left now was for her to sit and wait.

Chapter Text

Sarada quickly grew bored waiting for her mom to return. After playing around with her chakra channels for a bit, she decided to go all out and rifle nosily through all her mom’s drawers.

Her desk was plain, filled with office supplies and business cards. There was a whole drawer of nutrition bars, and Sarada took a chocolate one to munch on. Thirsty, she lucked out when she found bottles of pre-brewed tea under her mom’s desk. It tasted awful, but she was sure it was at least good for her.

Blank research request forms, lab equipment logs, personal research notes – her mom had it all in this room. There was no way all of this was her job. Furthermore, it was ridiculously unorganized.

When her mom reentered her office some half hour later, Sarada was knee-deep in reorganizing her mom’s desk surface.

“Sarada, I have a system!”

Sarada whipped around and glared at her mom. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

“…Yeah.” At least she had the decency to look sheepish.

Her mom closed the door behind herself and found her way back to her guest chair. Sarada was already kneeling on her desk, so she may as well own it. She plopped herself down on the cleared corner she’d managed to make, swinging her legs absently.

“I guess I’ll just start, then,” her mom said, smiling up at her worriedly. Sarada hadn’t known it at the time, but she received an extremely abridged, heteronormative, expletive-free version of events.

-----

In the aftermath of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, Konoha had to be rebuilt. The remaining villagers and Shinobi banded together, working hard to regain the prestige the Hidden Leaf Village had enjoyed for so many years previously. All the while, inter-village cooperation was welcomed and encouraged. But incorporating international collaboration into decades-old institutions was time-consuming, and the transition was taking up a lot of manpower.

Sakura had taken on a leadership role in this period, working alongside medical ninjas and trainees to treat people’s injuries, severe or minor, while also acting as a medical delegate at whichever meetings required someone like that. As the days passed, the war bandages became minor construction sprains, and Sakura could finally sleep a full eight hours a night.

But she was still restless. All around her, shinobi and villagers alike were pairing off, dating and marrying to celebrate the newfound peace and tentatively established prosperity. It took her delivering four babies in one day for Sakura to recognize this trend, and once she did she couldn’t easily ignore it.

Meanwhile around town, the genin started to look younger and younger. With the academy reestablished by Kakashi, she saw how young the students looked. Young, and adorable.

One inconspicuous afternoon, two genin girls were chatting and running past her, their headbands reflecting the sunlight distractingly. This was when Sakura got the first urge. Clutching at her stomach, she thought to herself I want one.

Motherhood was something she always wanted, and now everyone around her was pursuing it. The village was safe, and Sakura had a steady income from the hospital – surely she could jump on the baby-making bandwagon all her peers were currently riding?

But the difference between them and her was that they all had partners – someone to coordinate schedules with, divide resources between, share skills with. After everything that happened, as romance-obsessed as she’d been in her youth, there wasn’t anyone Sakura wanted to marry. Maybe one day she’d meet the right person, but they weren’t here now.

But she was here, and she wanted a child of her own.

It took months of research and experimentation alongside Lady Tsunade, last nights and break downs and unplanned scientific breakthroughs, but Sakura eventually found a way to artificially inseminate an egg with an isolated sperm specimen. With the pathway to success confirmed, Sakura started considering the best genetic candidates for her child.

Discounting those already in a relationship and those who were… less than ideal, the list of candidates was rather short. But after the news a few days ago, surely she could also…

It wouldn’t be going too far, would it?

Taking a few days to solidify her confidence, Sakura knocked on a familiar apartment door early one morning. She was extremely lucky that Naruto was actually home for once. He answered the door yawning and scratching at his chest, wearing a T-shirt and boxers.

“Help meeee!” She’d mock-cried, throwing herself at Naruto. Good greeting, Haruno. Nailed it.

“What? What’s happening – Sakura? Happy to see you, but it’s too damn early,” he’d muttered. He’d still caught her, so she considered it a win.

She smiled, hugging him once and stepping back. “Can I come in?”

He smiled for a moment, then looked panicked. “Um, gimme a sec,” he said, shutting the door in her face. Rude, but she’d wait before passing judgement.

A few moments later, Naruto came back looking sheepish. “Sasuke locked the bedroom door, so I’m stuck in my boxers.”

Sakura giggled. “Is he mad at you?”

Naruto shrugged, motioning for her to follow him into the apartment. “Nah, he’s just not a morning person,” he snickered. “Me getting up disturbs him once, but if I come back in the room then it’s twice and he’s stuck awake.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “It’s cute that you guys have a system.”

Naruto stopped in his tracks, an expression of disgust on his face. “Is this what routine feels like?”

“Yup, get used to it,” she said, patting his shoulder on her way to the living room.

Naruto and Sasuke’s apartment was situated just residential enough for privacy, and just close enough to downtown to be convenient. Even though it was the size of a glorified shoe box, somehow Sasuke managed to keep Naruto’s typical mess in check. The sofa and arm chairs in their living room were stain-free, the table uncluttered. Aside from a pile of scrolls in the corner and a pair of shoes left in the middle of the room, it was tidy. There weren’t any gross odors, no holes in the walls, no kunai just laying around. God, Naruto had been domesticated.

“I know I was just here last month,” she said, just loud enough for Naruto to hear while he clattered around in the kitchen. “But it’s so tidy in here.”

Naruto groaned from the next room over. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll think he’s won.”

Sakura smiled to herself and sat down in an arm chair, continuing her observation of the room. She and Kakashi had gotten the boys two small desert plants from Sunagakure as house warming gifts, and they were still sitting in the narrow window sill.

Naruto had claimed the spiky one because “it matched his hair,” but then after bickering with Sasuke for a few minutes, he named it Sasuke Jr. out of spite. It had been hilarious to watch him explain how Sasuke’s prickly personality made the name fitting. The man in question had only grown red with silent anger. Fuming, Sasuke had retaliated by pretending not to care about any of them, naming his round-leafed plant Ugh. It made Naruto laugh, making Sasuke’s shoulders lose their stiffness and dissolving any tension instantly.

It was nice the know the plants had survived nearly a year. Despite his words to the contrary, Sakura was sure Sasuke was the one keeping them alive.

“Here you go,” Naruto muttered, coming into the living room carrying two mugs of coffee without even needing to ask her first. She accepted one and thanked him, then watched him fall onto the couch and drink his coffee as if it was giving him life. “So why the early visit? Usually you visit socially at least after noon.”

Even tired, he was still sharp. “What, I can’t just casually visit you guys at,” she glanced at her watch. “Eight in the morning?”

Naruto looked at her flatly. “Not really, no.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes at her own lack of foresight. “I wanted to catch you both at once, and I knew you were both finally in the village at the same time, but you’re right, this is crazy, isn’t it? I should’ve wait – shoot, I should’ve gotten my actual speech together. Can I come back–”

“Oh hell no,” Naruto exclaimed, sitting up. “You already woke me up! Don’t make it for nothing.”

Sakura nervously sipped at the coffee she'd been given. Naruto finally learned how she took her coffee a few months ago, and ever since it was perfect every time.

He was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Nervous? No, I’m not – that’s crazy,” she answered not at all suspiciously. “I just – how’s Hinata?” Oh god, what an awful subject to casually bring up at eight in the damn morning.

Naruto rolled his eyes, taking it in stride. “Fine.”

“You guys are still…?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking out the large window. She followed his gaze, looking out beyond the glass where the street tops and signs of downtown were visible in the distance. Somehow, the industrial view was calming. After a few beats of silence, Naruto went on, “The wedding is set for the end of the month.”

“So I’ve heard,” she muttered.

“Before I proposed you said you’d come. You’re still coming, right?”

She nodded, smiling gently. Of course she’d support one of her best friends in orchestrating the biggest sham marriage of their generation.

Naruto huffed. “Good. Well then, what’s this about?”

The sound of a door opening was the only warning they got before Sasuke was glaring around the corner at them. His hair was a disaster, and expression thunderous.

“Why,” he asked with zero inflection.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Sakura greeted, waving and grinning widely.

Sasuke huffed, frown deepening even further before training his attention on Naruto. “I smelled coffee.”

Naruto smiled brightly as well, no doubt annoying Sasuke. “Kitchen counter, orange mug.”

Sasuke huffed and rolled his eyes, but padded into the kitchen anyway, muttering several curses and damning the color orange. Sakura grinned and turned to Naruto, only to find him similarly holding in a laugh behind his hand. Meeting Sakura’s eyes, they both grinned. Morning Sasuke was a predictably entertaining beast.

Naruto leaned in and whispered, “I chose orange just to annoy him.” Sakura nearly lost it.

“I heard that,” Sasuke shouted from the kitchen.

She and Naruto both finally lost it at that, laughing together at the grumpiest man alive. Said man was still muttering in irritation as he made his way into the living room. He sat on the couch sideways, resting his feet in Naruto’s lap. As their laughter died down she and Naruto sent him twin looks of confusion. He bit out savagely, “I forgot socks, and it’s cold.”

Naruto rolled his eyes and smiled indulgently, settling his arms over Sasuke’s ankles. Oh man, Naruto was so domesticated.

“This is too much for my heart to handle,” Sakura said, clutching at her chest.

“Right?” Naruto grinned at her. “It’s adorable.”

Sasuke frowned and sipped at his coffee. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

Instead of protesting his cuteness, an argument which was on-going and had spanned hours of conversation in the past, Sasuke turned his gaze on Sakura. She found herself sitting up straighter, making Sasuke narrow his eyes.

“Why are you nervous?” He asked, expression suspicious.

“She won’t tell me, so I think it has to do with you,” Naruto said, sighing and settling further into the couch. “I could’ve stayed in bed.”

“I have work later,” Sakura muttered. “I don’t know when I’ll have a free moment again in the next week, I knew you were both in town, and I wanted to ask as soon as possible. I’m sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s fine,” Sasuke said, apparently ready to ignore his earlier grumpiness. “What happened?”

She took a steady sip of coffee, then decided to just get it over with. She started by explaining her recent side project involving artificial fertilization, and immediately both Naruto and Sasuke were blushing. What boys.

She went on to explain the breakthroughs she’d achieved, how instrumental Tsunade had been in the research, even explaining some of the technical jargon just because her nerves made her. She eventually finished with, “I want a kid, will you provide the DNA?”

Silence. Sasuke was staring at her stoically, Naruto as if his brain had just fried.

“I won’t – you don’t have to answer right away,” Sakura muttered. “It would be nice if you’d just consider it.”

Sasuke sighed, leaning against the couch and closing his eyes. “I didn’t expect this when I woke up today.”

“I know this is super awkward, and I’m sure you need time to even start to–”

“Sure.”

“What?”

“What?”

Sasuke frowned. “Naruto, why are you surprised?”

Naruto responded with a frown of his own. “I feel like this is something we should talk about first.”

Sasuke shrugged, sipping casually at his coffee. “It’s not like I’m going to say no to jerking off into a cup so that Sakura can be a mom.”

“That’s not really–”

“You’d make a great mom, Sakura.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said, nearly frozen in shock. That was unexpectedly easy.

Naruto pinched Sasuke’s calf. “Shouldn’t we be considering–?”

“What’s there to consider?” Sasuke glared at Naruto, pulling his feet away and tucking them out of reach. “You’re getting married, and you’ve already committed to a minimum of two kids. At least this way I don’t have to have sex with someone else.”

Naruto sighed, blushing. “That’s not really–”

“Genetically, the kid would be a blessing to the world.”

“You’re being–”

“Uchiha genes are so strong I bet the kid would look a lot like me. I guess we’d have to discuss marriage as an option, seeing as a kid running around looking like me would probably hurt my public standing even more, which would reflect badly on you–”

Shit, Sakura hadn’t even considered that. Would they have to get married?

Naruto abruptly stood up. Sasuke looked like he was about to ask something, but Naruto held up a hand to stop him. He took a breath, then left the room. The sound of the bedroom door locking made Sasuke yell out, “Oh, real mature!”

He huffed, sipping at his coffee again. He was surprisingly calm for someone whose boyfriend just left the room with zero explanation.

“I knew this would happen,” Sakura muttered, voice low and embarrassingly shaky. “I knew it would be this whole – this whole thing, but I still–”

“You care about us,” Sasuke interrupted. “The fact that you’re here and asking this tells me that your options are extremely limited.”

Sakura smiled, tearing up. “I knew it would make you guys fight, but…”

“We talked about this kind of situation already,” Sasuke said. “Before Naruto accept the Hyuuga’s deal, we talked about whether it was fair for me to have any sort of anything with someone else, seeing as I still want an Uchiha heir. We already agreed it was fine, so this isn’t actually a fight.” He sighed, “If anything, Naruto’s mad at how quickly I said yes.”

“Oh…” She wiped a few traitorous tears away. “I still feel bad.”

Sasuke offered her a rare, kind smile. “It’s fine. I would be honored to have a kid with you.”

She smiled back, chest tight. “I’m going to hug you, okay?”

Sasuke sighed loudly, but didn’t refuse. Naruto came back in the room wearing actual pants to find Sakura lifting his boyfriend off his feet in a massive hug, and his expression was priceless.

Sakura laughed at it, and Sasuke followed suit. Really, Naruto could never stay mad if Sasuke Uchiha was smiling, let alone laughing.

Naruto sighed, crossing his arms. Sakura let Sasuke down, and then they had a three-way stare down. With Sasuke on Sakura’s side, she enjoyed being on the winning team for once.

After some sort of silent communication with Sasuke - involving raised eyebrows, squinting, and huffing, but no actual words - Naruto finally nodded, then walked over to pick Sakura up into another hug. Beaming, he congratulated her on winning over his boyfriend. She giggled and hugged him back. Sasuke loudly complained that he’d been moments away from breaking down the bathroom door, and Naruto explained the necessity for pants and brushed teeth during such a serious conversation. Despite his loud protests, Sasuke barely resisted being pulled into the hug too.

Group hugs were cheesy and generally cheap-feeling, but Sakura felt so protected and happy that she couldn’t care less about how stupid they’d have looked to anyone else. 

------

“So that’s it? You and dad didn’t love each other, but were friends?”

“We were friends because we loved each other, but not in a romantic way. We do genuinely care about each other.”

“So because you wanted a child, father just… went along with it?”

Her mom nodded. “It explains but doesn’t justify his distance up until now. I don’t think he felt that strong a connection to you, but now…” She smiled, rubbed her hand up and down Sarada’s back. “Now that he’s gotten to know you a little, he wants to develop a connection.”

Sarada frowned. “And wait, why was the Hokage there?”

“You father and the Hokage used to be roommates,” her mom answered easily, then came up short. “Well, unofficial roommates. They had their own places, but... Yeah. Anyway, they’ve always been close, you know?”

She nodded. Roommates? What must that’ve been like? She’d have to ask the Hokage the next time she visited him. “So you and dad were never in love?”

“Well, I’ve told you before about how big a crush I had on him when we were genin,” she said, laughing a bit in embarrassment. “But I hadn’t known the real him. At that age, you’ll like any boy who’s cool and has nice hair.”

Sarada smiled. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well you’re far more mature than I was at your age! Come on, cut me some slack,” she complained, smiling wide.

Sarada felt her smile fade away. “Why were you going to wait to tell me?”

Her mom paused, eyes stuck on her own. Eventually she sighed, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I’d underestimated how well you’d take this.”

“I think a normal kid would be more upset,” Sarada muttered. “But mostly I’m just relieved you’re not sad.”

Her mom smiled kindly up at her. “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly happy. I got exactly what I wanted, after all: a healthy, amazing kid! And a daughter, no less! Talk about winning the genetic lottery!”

Sarada blushed, but tentatively returned her mom’s smile.

Given Sarada’s initial expectations, this conversation went extremely well.

Chapter Text

The day after her hospital visit and just two days after the Hokage’s anniversary, Sarada ran back into her father on the streets of Konoha. He eyed her up and down, and blessedly said nothing about her sorry state of appearance.

She’d been training all day, enjoying her Sunday before classes would inevitably distract her from progressing as a shinobi. Partway through Boruto and Mitsuki joined her, and from there it became baseless posturing and friendly competition.

She’d gone nearly two months without having a strength-related incident, but today she accidentally let her mind slip. Distracted with the information she’d learned from her mom, Sarada had smashed through a tree branch she’d landed on, effectively destroying Boruto’s path forward and forcing him to detour away precious seconds. This was a rare instance of her strength actually being useful, but the lack of control still made her feel uncomfortable. Obviously she needed to practice her chakra control even more.

As the winner, she sported her newly acquired layer of dirt and scattered scratches with pride. But under her father’s steady gaze, the feeling faded away to make room for a healthy dose of embarrassment. How did her father go on so many missions but still always look presentable, damn it?

Mitsuki had been the referee, so he was also spotless, but at least she was in better shape than Boruto. The idiot was covered in scrapes and bruises, with mud splattered all through his stupid hair and singe marks running along the left arm of his jacket. He was complaining loudly to her father about how unfair Sarada was, and how she’d cheated to race ahead of him.

“She set traps, Uncle Sasuke!” He practically shouted, yanking on her father’s cloak for emphasis. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem bothered by the overt display of childishness. “She totally went out before the race and did it, there’s no other way–”

She shrugged. “I won, you’re just bitter.”

“What?” Boruto screeched, stomping his foot. “Cheaters can’t win, they lose by default.”

Remembering their recent attempt at the chunin exams, Sarada bit back her cruel response. They never let their bickering – heated discussions go too far, and she didn’t want her bad mood to be the reason she overstepped. “Good thing I didn’t cheat then.”

“You’re a damn liar, Uchiha!”

Mitsuki was just standing there laughing, enjoying Boruto’s stupidity far more than Sarada was at the moment. But at least she could tell what Boruto was thinking; Mitsuki could be a bit of an enigma. Her father was their other spectator, and he was just standing there, stoically watching Boruto besmirch her reputation and victory. He was also difficult to read.

Ignoring Boruto’s loud protests, Sarada looked intently up at her father. The man who apparently only platonically loved her mom, but it was okay because she felt the same way. The man who’d been absent her whole childhood, who’d apparently wanted an heir, but not so much that he cared to stick around and see how they turned out. The man Sarada found herself trying to impress despite the fact that his opinion really shouldn’t matter.

Treat him normally, Sarada. In fact, be a bit nicer to him. Don’t wrap him up in your own insecurities.

“I won,” she stated plainly, keeping eye contact so that her father knew the words were for him. She resisted the urge to brush the dirt off herself under his appraising gaze.

Eyeing Boruto’s sleeve, her father raised an eyebrow in question. At Sarada’s triumphant grin, he gave her a small smile and nod. It was a smile, she saw it. It was official and the universe couldn’t take it back.

“What are you guys saying? Stop speaking with stupid Uchiha side-eyes and–”

“None of your business, outsider,” Sarada taunted. Her father had pretty obviously been asking about whether her fireball jutsu had progressed far enough to be utilized in a high speed, high stakes competition, and she had pretty obviously answered in the affirmative. Her father may or may not have been proud, but he was pleased at the very least.

“What do you mean outsider – he’s my sensei!”

“Well he’s my father. Once you master the art of being quiet for two seconds, maybe we’ll include you next time. If I allow it.”

“You’re such a pretentious sack of lies and deceit–”

Her father cut in, addressing Mitsuki for the first time… ever, probably. “Are they always like this?”

Mitsuki nodded, chuckling. “It’s better than most T.V.”

“I’m glad my never-ending, heroic, fate-of-the-world-deciding battles against my arch-nemesis are fun for you, Mitsuki.” Boruto stuck out his tongue at Sarada.

She just laughed. “What are you, five?”

“What are you, five?”

“Ah yes, repetition. The height of wit and cunning. How will I counter this ‘heroic’ move? It’s unstoppable.”

“Your face is… unstoppable.”

“That doesn’t make sense, ass-wipe.”

Her father coughed at her creative insult, but he didn’t say anything. “I need to talk to you,” he interrupted, motioning for her to come with him.

She raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms and planting her feet, while Boruto complained about having very legitimate concerns that shouldn’t be ignored by pretentious Uchihas. “What makes you think I have time right now?”

“Do you?”

“Yes, obviously.”

Her father made a face that seemed to say, “Why are you so difficult?” She probably got it from him. But the look was gone in an instant.

“May I talk with you?”

She nodded, holding back her smug smile. Boruto was complaining about disrespecting powerful ninjas when she turned back and waved. “Bye guys.”

“Wait, stop ignoring me!” Boruto screamed. “I want to come too!”

Sarada rolled her eyes. He spends hours insulting and fighting with her, only to demand spending more time in her company? She’d not been too serious before, but was he actually stupid?

Her father shrugged. “I didn’t get you anything, but sure.” With that random statement, he started walking away, and it was up to Boruto and Sarada to keep up. Mitsuki waved as they left, nearly giggling at how Boruto was still trying to pick fights with Sarada. She was unofficial humoring his outbursts, egging him on just because it was so easy.

“He’s my sensei, so you better not step on any toes, Uchiha.”

“Wow, what a scholarly analogy. Have you been reading?”

“Shut up, of course I can read!”

“I didn’t question your ability to, but now I am.”

“Well I can and do read, so there.”

“Really? Even when the words have more than three syll-a-bles?”

“Shut up!”

After a few minutes of them trailing loudly behind her father, a man suddenly appeared. He exchanged heated whispers with her father, who just raised an eyebrow in response. With the most irritation she’d ever heard in his voice, he asked, “Thirty minutes?” The man nodded, making her father sigh.

He turned back to his genin followers who’d fallen silent upon the new man’s arrival – the Hokage’s top aid, now that she took a closer look over her father’s shoulder. Nara-san looked bored like always, so whatever her father had to go deal with probably wasn’t too important.

“I have to go for a bit,” her father explained. “Meet me in the Hokage’s office in thirty minutes.” With that, the two men disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

Boruto groaned, “Great, just when I was starting to prove myself.”

“Is that what you call your incessant complaining? ‘Proving yourself’?”

“Shut up, let’s just go see my old man,” Boruto complained, shockingly. How out of character for him to complain. Really, she could hardly recognize him.

They made their way to the Hokage Tower in a shocking amount of silence. Sarada spent her time brushing off as much dirt as she could, side-eyeing Boruto into doing the same. But as the building came into view she started getting worried about the silence. Was Boruto alright? Surely he wasn’t actually pissed about losing their race. They compete all the time, he’d have to win eventually. Did someone put him under a genjutsu while they weren’t looking? Was he replaced with an enemy stealth agent?

“What are you looking at, hah?”

Sarada frowned at being so inconspicuous. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

Boruto looked surprised for a moment, then sheepish. “What, do I have to be talking all the time?”

“Based on your track-record, yes.” Boruto scoffed, no doubt ready to defend his honor, when Sarada continued, “Its unexpectedly nice.”

Boruto’s mouth snapped shut and face turned red. Oops, did she make him angry? Oh well, what’s new?

He spent the rest of their journey staring intently at his feet. It was one thing to know Boruto was a weirdo, and another entirely to experience the proof in real-time.

They entered the Tower and passed through security easily, both of them being the children of very important people. As they climbed the spiral walkways leading them up to the top floor, a thought nearly had Sarada stopping in her tracks.

Boruto seemed to sense something was wrong as he glanced over, mouth opening to ask the question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Sarada cut him off by answering, “I don’t know what kind of face to make around my father anymore.”

“…What?”

“After… what I learned.”

Understanding dawned on Boruto’s usually oblivious face. “When you talked to your mom, right? I’d almost forgotten. How did that go?”

She frowned at Boruto’s uncharacteristically serious tone, watched her feet stepping carefully along the hallway’s carpeting. “I can’t explain everything now, but…”

“Did he do something bad?”

“…No.”

“So?”

“So, I’ve always treated him like he has. Now that I know he’s just some – some guy who didn’t stick around to – it’s kind of… jarring.”

Boruto crossed his arms, humming to himself as he thought of how to respond. Sarada waited patiently, used to this sort of thing by now.

It was jarring. Before, she could at least blame her father’s absence on not loving her mom, and it had only been stray anxiety convincing her it was her own fault. But apparently they did like each other, had been long-time friends even, along with the Hokage. So what did it mean then that introducing a new factor – Sarada – changed that dynamic for the worse?

Is she the reason her dad didn’t stick around? Were her past anxieties actually right?

She’d been plagued by these thoughts ever since the hospital, ever since her mom hugged her goodbye in the lobby and waved until she was around the corner and out of sight. How could she have been so stupid as to think for a single moment that the story helped?

Her father must’ve lied to her mom, that’s the only explanation. He didn’t want a kid, and that’s why he didn’t stick around to even try to raise her, and that’s why they never told her. They knew she’d figure out that one of her parents didn’t want her.

She didn’t know how the Hokage factored into all of this, but having him as a mutual friend of both her parents… she wondered which direction he leaned towards. Had he sided more with his alleged childhood crush and looked forward to her birth? Or had he aligned more with his childhood rival, roommate, and best friend, and begrudged her entrance into their lives?

The Hokage was always so kind, so genuinely happy to see her. But if she were him, surely she’d have aligned with her father.

“I think…” Boruto eventually concluded, “That you should make your normal face.”

“Oh?” She rolled her eyes and asked in a mocking tone, “And what’s that look like?”

“Honest,” he answered seriously, eyes leaving no room for sarcasm.

It was funny how whenever Boruto looked away, those were the times you actually wanted to see his reaction. But when he stood there and responded straightforwardly, for some reason you wished that he’d look away.

After being given such a genuine answer, Sarada felt like a bit of an ass. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, nodded through the nerves, and continued forward to the Hokage’s office. Just minutes later they saw his door around the bend of the hall. Sarada anxiously flattened her bangs and took a few steadying breaths, schooling her face into one of relative neutrality. With the weight of Boruto’s gaze on her back, she knocked.

“Come in!”

Bracing herself against how awkward her nerves would probably make her, Sarada pushed open the large door. She nearly squealed in delight at what she saw.

“Sunflowers!” She shouted, bounding over to and around the Hokage’s messy work area.

Instead of only being covered in the products of dead plants, there was a tall blue vase overflowing with sunflowers and leaves and happiness on the far end of the cluttered surface.

“Oh, hello you two,” the Hokage greeted with a broad smile. “Nice to see you both.”

“Where’d you get the flowers from?” Sarada asked loudly. She probably looked stupid and immature, but sunflowers. “Can I touch one? I’m going to touch one.”

The Hokage chuckled as she leaned down and ran her thumb delicately over a single straight petal. She’d never been this focused on her chakra control in her entire life, but she resolutely refused to break a single thing about these precious gifts from the sun. The smooth softness of the petal and the rough dots of plant something in the center were fun to touch, and she couldn’t hold back her beaming smile and childish giggle.

When she finally caught herself, straightening up suddenly and coughing into her fist, there were matching sets of blue eyes and red faces aimed her way. “I like sunflowers,” she lamely excused, embarrassed at her precociousness.

She stepped back to the front of the Hokage’s desk and next to Boruto, who tensed up even more as she came to stand as professionally as possible next to him. Meanwhile, the Hokage was covering his face with both hands and making some sort of alien sound.

“That was very forward of me, I apologize.”

Peeking through his fingers to reveal red cheeks, the Hokage stated seriously, “I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to be offended.”

“…Alright?” She steeled herself against the oncoming reprimand.

“That was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Huh?” Blinking uncomprehendingly, Sarada turned to Boruto in question. He was grumbling about having a pervy dad, but he otherwise didn’t comment. “Oh… I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Hokage grinned, waving away her apology for… something. “Here, take one. You obviously love them more than anyone in this entire village.”

“Don’t tease me,” she muttered, trying and failing to pout as she took the proffered flower. She’d been handed the biggest one, and she silently thanked every god in existence for this Hokage. Smiling down at the large flower in her hands, Sarada asked, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hm?”

“Where’d you get these from?”

“Ah…” The Hokage glanced at Boruto before looking back at the flowers in question. “A secret admirer left them for me. Isn’t that nice?”

At the same time, Boruto shouted “Gross!” and Sarada cooed, “How sweet!” They glared at each other, which made the Hokage laugh again. Sarada slapped Boruto on the back of the head for being immature, and Boruto yanked her headband crooked in retaliation.

Before it could turn into a bloodbath, the Hokage changed the subject, “So what brings you two here, anyway? Not that I don’t just love your company.”

Sarada took it upon herself to clarify, as she was capable of using her words efficiently unlike some idiotic genin who barely even–

“Uncle Sasuke told us to come here,” Boruto hurried to explain. “He’s meeting us here, and he’s probably going to teach me something cool – but I’ll be damned if Sarada learns anything from my teacher!”

“Language,” the Hokage weakly admonished. Just like Konohamaru-sensei and Shino-sensei, the Hokage knew it was futile to keep Boruto away from curse words.

Sarada crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow in exactly the way Boruto always loudly admitted to hating. “You realize he already taught me the Uchiha clan’s fireball jutsu, right?”

With Boruto loudly screaming about betrayal, the Hokage asked, “How’s that coming along by the way? Sasuke said he was very impressed with your progress.”

Her father praised her? Behind her back? What a jerk.

She would not grin like a crazy person. She would be professional and accept the praise like a proud kunoichi.

Unable to entirely hold back her satisfied smirk despite her pep-talk, Sarada held her head high. Between today’s training and yesterday’s anxiety-fueled, post-hospital training session, Sarada could form a solid ball of fire. It was nowhere near as big as her father’s, but she was at least a little bit proud of herself. “I’ve nearly mastered it, and it’s only been two days!”

The Hokage clapped his hands together and grinned. “Wow, good job!”

Boruto frowned, never one to be overshadowed. “Well I’ve mastered the rasengan already. You were way older than me when you did, old man.”

The Hokage nodded. “That’s true, you’re right.”

What, no snappy comeback? Was the Hokage feeling okay?

“Hokage-sama,” Sarada tentatively started. She’d already been told the answer weeks ago, but she suddenly felt compelled to ask, “Do you know how long it took for my father to master the fireball jutsu?”

“Ah, your father?” The Hokage stopped to think, then a warm smile spread on his face. “He barely slept or ate, but it took him about two weeks.”

Sarada frowned. The man himself had told her it’d taken a month. Well, nearly a month.

“What about his brother?”

This gave the Hokage pause. “His brother?”

“Yeah,” she went on, eyes steadily analyzing every move the Hokage made. “My father mentioned him. How long did it take him to learn the jutsu?”

The Hokage leaned forward and fidgeted his hands on his desk, small motions that wouldn’t have been suspicious under normal circumstances. “I’m pretty sure he got it on the first try, if your father is to be believed,” he eventually answered. So not “a week, maybe,” then.

The Hokage continued, “What else do you know about him?”

“That’s it,” she shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. “My father said he was very gifted.”

“That’s true, he was.” The Hokage glanced away with a far-off look in his eyes.

“Do you know him?”

“I met him a few times. He was a good shinobi, and a kind man.”

Oh. Obvious in hindsight, Sarada was only just understanding why her father and the Hokage were speaking about her uncle in the past-tense. Her father was the only Uchiha for many years, and she’d nearly forgotten that.

There had been a kind Uchiha? Sarada wondered what that had looked like. Had he smiled? Did he live long enough to have any daughters?

“What was his name?”

The Hokage smiled despite his expression turning sad. “Itachi.”

The door to the office swung open, and in stepped the second-to-last Uchiha. Everyone in the room stared at him as he entered, giving her father pause.

“…What.”

Boruto practically shouted, “We weren’t talking about you!” And then he was off, chattering away about Sarada learning the fireball jutsu, but that didn’t matter because wasn’t the rasengan the coolest jutsu in the entire world? What did one measly ball of fire really mean, that’s like comparing a candle to a hurricane.

He only received a raised eyebrow for his efforts. Her father then turned his discerning eyes on the Hokage. They lingered for a few moments, then flicked over to his desk – ah, he must’ve noticed the sunflowers. If he was surprised by them, he didn’t show it. Next he glanced at the bloom in Sarada’s hand, which for some reason made him smile, there and gone before she could blink in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you’d be getting multiple gifts today,” he father said, speaking lowly to her but still somehow audible over Boruto’s persistent ranting.

“Gifts?” She glanced down, then around the office. “It’s not my birthday.”

Her father shrugged – shrugged. Who was this man?

He stepped up to the Hokage’s desk and bent down to retrieve something. The Hokage still hadn’t said anything, but was instead glancing between Sarada and her father… anxiously? When her father stood back up, he locked eyes with the Hokage once more, this time holding his gaze for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

Sarada coughed into her fist, regaining their attention. Had they forgotten that Boruto and she were even here? “Gifts?”

Her father nodded, then brought up his hand. He was holding a giftbag for Auntie Ino’s tea shop, extending it out to her.

“I got this for you.”

Boruto was frowning, her father was stoic, and the Hokage was… holding in his laughter. Two out of three faces told her this wasn’t a joke of some sort, so she’d go with it.

With a raised eyebrow, she stepped forward to receive the gift. Peeking inside the bag only yielded mounds of tissue paper, so Sarada began digging. Each piece she unearthed she quickly balled up and threw at Boruto. By the time she got to the present at the bottom of the bag Boruto had caught eight balls of paper. Impressive.

She pulled out the large tea tin, reading the label on the side. “Lavender mint… tea?”

“It was on sale the other day.”

The other day? That rang a bell for some reason, but Sarada wasn’t currently thinking clearly.

“You bought me tea?”

“Your favorite tea, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I could?”

Sarada would not tear up. She would accept the present like a mature kunoichi. She would not get emotional over her father remembering her tea order from their one trip to Auntie Ino’s, and she would not prescribe meaning to it that wasn’t there. This wasn’t her father demonstrating a desire to know her, or to win her affection, or to make her happy. This was just… something else.

“Holy shit Uncle Sasuke, I think you broke her.”

“Shut up, Boruto,” she muttered weakly, unable to tear her clouded eyes off of her new present. Why was her vision swimming? Weird.

“I was wrong, she’s fine.”

There was still so much she didn’t know about her father and the situation surrounding her birth. All she had to go off of was her own assumptions and her mother’s story – and even then, Sarada could tell her mother had been glossing over some details. Even though it was easiest, she couldn’t just assume her father hated her or didn’t want her.

Sarada needed to judge the man based off his actions. Yes he’d left and never looked back – or had he? – but he’d also awkwardly asked her for tea, showed her a signature jutsu of the Uchiha, and bought her favorite tea on sale. He’d been thinking of her throughout all of this.

She finally looked up, eyes steady on her father’s obviously concerned expression. With a small, definitely not unsteady voice, she finally responded, “Thank you. I love it.”

The Hokage fist-pumped for some reason, but her father ignored him, so Sarada figured she should as well. He nodded and glanced away, straightened up and coughed into his fist. “Good, I’m glad.”

“I can make you some sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

She nodded. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

She nodded between the two of them, these two grown men who continued to show her kindness. “Thank you for the presents.”

The Hokage waved her off, muttering something about the flower not being a real present, while her father glared at him.

“Uncle Sasuke, did my dad steal your thunder?”

“Yes, he did.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean to – you should’ve seen her, I had no choice!”

“It’s not like she extorted you for a damn flower, old man.”

“It’s not fair if Sasuke is the only generous one today. It makes me look bad!”

Her father scoffed – scoffed. “Whatever.”

“Not everything’s about you, you attention-hogging old perv.”

Thank god for Boruto and his ability to diffuse all tension with his particular brand of loud stupidity.

“Let’s go, Boruto,” Sarada waved to get his attention. “We need to get going.”

They didn’t have anywhere in particular to be, but they usually didn’t stick around much longer once Boruto busted out the word “perv.”

Boruto grumbled something, turning to go.

The Hokage called out, “Boruto, do you feel left out? Do you want a flower too?”

“Shut up, old man.”

“Because you’re my flower!”

“EW!”

With that, Boruto ran out the door. Laughing and waving, Sarada followed him. This time, she gave both men equally wide smiles.

By the time she caught back up with Boruto, he was frowning at her crossly.

“What?” She asked, hand on her hip. “Aw, are you sad you didn’t get any presents, you big baby?”

Boruto’s frown deepened, not rising to the bait. “Isn’t it weird that my dad would keep a present from a secret admirer? If I was the Hokage, I’d throw away anything suspicious like that.”

Sarada nearly slapped herself. How had Boruto been the one to realize that?

“You’re right, it’s… weird.” The large bloom she was holding preciously stared back at her nonthreateningly. “Any chance you think he kept them because he really likes sunflowers?”

“Seems stupid.”

Sarada swallowed nervously, a question on the tip of her tongue. Faking nonchalance, she asked, “Think they’re from your mom then?”

“No,” Boruto scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’d have no reason to lie about a gift from my mom.”

Sarada nodded, brain not entirely functioning. She’d gone through a lot today. “What do you think this means then?”

“It means that we should carry out the next phase of our secret mission sooner than we thought.”

-----

“Isn’t your daughter adorable? For a second there I thought she’d give us a hug.”

“Hn.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get one someday. By the way, thanks for the flowers, you cheesy sap.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone knew these were from you, they were just too professional to say anything. Shikamaru gave me a look, you know?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh man, you should’ve seen Sarada’s face! I had no idea an Uchiha could smile and sparkle like that.”

“Shut up, good god, do you ever stop talking?”

“Your words hurt, but your cute blush softens the blow.”

“Ugh.”

Chapter Text

A few days after receiving an honest to god gift from her father, Sarada was finally willing to take the next step in her secret mission. Her only issue was actually… doing it.

She had some of the answers she wanted regarding her parents. They were married, but not in love. They’d both wanted a child, and mom had developed a scientific way of getting it done, plain and simple. Sarada was a medical miracle, really. And to some extent, her father cared about her. Which was another miracle, she supposed.

Well, while her mom had wanted a child, her father had merely… accepted. Had he also wanted her, or had he been indifferent? He’d wanted an heir, but his absence during her childhood had Sarada pausing before drawing too positive a conclusion about his present intentions.

But even so, her whole childhood was painted in a different light now that she knew her father wasn’t a complete monster. Sure he’d ignored her most of her life, but since he’d reappeared he’d been treating her so… not badly. He was at least trying to forge a connection with her, albeit a tad awkwardly. And most importantly, he hadn’t hurt her mother. They’d had a mutual understanding, so what did it matter that they weren’t in love? As long as her mom was happy, Sarada was happy. And after the relieved smiles and hugs at the hospital, Sarada believed that she really was, even without a real husband.

With her new feminist icon firmly cemented in her mental shrine to bad-assery, Sarada had spent her time wisely. Between basic training and (despite what she’d told the Hokage) mastering her fireball jutsu, she barely had enough down-time to remember classes. Ninjutsu was not her strong point, and working overtime at the Uchiha family jutsu was her main priority. There was nothing else she should be doing, definitely.

Well, late at night when sleep evaded her, she did strategize. Despite how clear everything had become in the last week, and despite her own hesitation to meddle in the affairs of married adults, Sarada had the sneaking suspicion that everything didn’t quite add up. She stared at the contents of her desk as she laid awake in bed, thinking everything over once again.

Once she’d brought her gifts home, she’d put the Hokage’s sunflower in a spare vase on her desk, facing the window. Next to it sat the small tea tin, the contents of which she’d most likely never consume. It was too precious. These gifts were usually the first thing she actively noticed in the morning, and sometimes the last thing she saw before falling asleep. This was also the case tonight.

She still functioned impeccably in class and on their official team missions, so Konohamaru-sensei and Mitsuki didn’t say anything about her recent tiredness. But stupid Boruto gave the dark circles under her eyes funny looks every now and then, and so she was forced to resort to childish glaring. In one particular moment of weakness, she’d even stuck her tongue out at him.

But this whole situation was driving her crazy, and she really couldn’t do anything about it yet. It was keeping her up at night, which was unproductive and frustrating. After all, having half of the puzzle connected only made her more desperate to have the full picture.

Even though she’d been going over them every night, the blank canvas of her bedroom ceiling drew her back in to the facts of the mission. Facts were good. They made sense, and they didn’t lie.

Her mother, her father, and the Hokage had been on a genin team together as teenagers. Her father had left the village for several years, then experienced enough personal growth to return during the Fourth Great Shinobi War, when he assisted the Hokage in both saving and rebuilding Konoha. Somewhere during the rebuilding efforts they’d moved in together, and her mom was still friendly enough with them to drop in unannounced early in the morning.

All of that made sense. There was nothing nebulous about those facts, nothing hiding in there. They’d been long-time friends, and their bonds had continued on into adulthood. But there was still a fourth adult involved in all of this, a nearly unknown variable that had somehow worked its way into this balanced equation: Lady Hinata.

It seemed fantastical the way she’d entered the scene, receiving a marriage proposal from the Hokage nearly out of the blue. People have said that the Konoha Twelve, the group of impressive shinobi the Hokage had grown up a part of, had included Lady Hinata. If village gossip could be trusted, she had been a shy girl, barely speaking to the Hokage when they were younger. Yet somehow she’d transitioned from loveable stalker to wife of the Hokage seemingly overnight – if Auntie Ino could be trusted, anyway.

She’d told this to Sarada when she was still young enough to have a babysitter. Lady Hinata and the Hokage had run onto the battlefield for each other a couple times, talked every so often, led one another to emotional revelations. Again, this was all according to her chatty babysitter Auntie Ino. (If Sarada asked, would Auntie Ino’s stories still be the same, even now?)

It was a bit embarrassing, but shinobi do those sorts of things all the time for their comrades. Sarada has heard brave tales of risked lives countless times, has read stories about the emotional bond between ninja that can’t be replicated among civilians. But what made the bond between the Hokage and Lady Hinata so special? After all, the Hokage had protected her own mother far more times, but it wasn’t like they were in love. Obviously, risking one’s life wasn’t a factor that indicated romantic love.

Sarada wasn’t satisfied with the “He finally got his head out of his ass and noticed this beautiful girl’s love for him after all these years” story. After all, when had they actually fallen in love? What made the Hokage stop and say, “Oh, you’re my favorite person,” after years of saying almost nothing to one another? Feelings don’t just pop up overnight! In fact, what had made Lady Hinata herself stop and take notice of what people say was a loud, precocious orphan boy?

Recalling the way the Hokage had looked on his anniversary, Sarada still felt nauseous. And after that conversation with Chouchou… what pieces was she still missing?

As uncomfortable as it made her to consider it, Sarada would have to talk to Lady Hinata. Avoiding the problem wouldn’t solve it, and avoiding Boruto’s pointed looks about their stalled mission wasn’t helping anyone. He was curious about what’d happened at the hospital, and he’d been dying to know how his own mother factored into all of this.

Yes, Lady Hinata was the next logical step in their secret mission. Sarada would have to go over the logistics of it with Boruto first, as she barely had any connection to the woman besides a few passing nods of acknowledgment. After all, her blank ceiling certainly wasn’t answering any questions for her.

With these thoughts and vague plans swirling in her head, on Friday Sarada made her way to the meeting point she and Boruto had established several days ago: the large tree behind the academy. She got there first, so she took the time to sit on one of the many swings hanging from the tree’s heavy branches. Though only twenty years old, the tree’s visible age was the result of a wood-style jutsu, and the swings the results of academy students with too much time on their hands.

Sarada aimlessly swung back and forth, keeping her feet planted to limit her movements. She refused to be found swinging like some child.

Looking up at the academy’s façade, she frowned. This place was nothing more than glorified daycare. Every student knew it, every teacher knew it, and every condescending adult around town knew it. The village was so peaceful, and ninjas were slowly becoming obsolete in this new internationalized world. She supposed it was both a blessing and a curse.

Thoroughly depressed with her career prospects, her thoughts strayed back to their unproductive nightly spiral. By the time Boruto showed up, Sarada was swinging as high as the branch her swing was tied to. She only knew he showed up when she heard him practically shout, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” She shouted back, jumping off the swing, as if doing so could negate the last five minutes of subconscious immaturity. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Boruto grinned slyly at her. “Sarada, were you… having fun?”

Her cheeks heated up at that. “No! Shut up, I don’t – you’re late!”

She punched his arm when he started laughing. She mercifully only used half of her strength, and she took a perverse amount of joy in watching Boruto wince and rub at his new bruise.

Eventually they left, walking to the training ground they’d been at the other day for the sake of privacy. The contents of their mission were sensitive, so operating with the utmost secrecy was essential.

“And you – I’ve never – the look on your face! Not just when I caught you, but when you were swinging! It was like you were trying to conquer a swing!”

Boruto obviously didn’t understand the necessity of secrecy.

Frowning disapprovingly and not pouting, Sarada stayed silent as she let Boruto laugh himself silly. Once they arrived at their destination, she sat cross-legged under the shade of a tree. Sarada leaned back against it and crossed her arms, finally fed up with Boruto’s amusement. “Are you quite done?”

Boruto snickered, “You’re still so pissy about it.” But he sat down similarly across from her, taking a few deep breaths to get rid of his laughter. Good.

“This is serious, Boruto,” she lectured. “If you can’t handle a simple… training exercise, then I fail to see how you’ll handle the delicate nature of–”

“Hey, don’t call swinging a training exercise.”

“I had a clear goal in mind, utilized my muscles and mental capacity, and experienced an increased capability as a kunoichi out of it.”

“Bullshit."

Sarada rolled her eyes, hiding the fact that she definitely hadn’t thought of the swing as a training exercise. “Anyway, I have a plan.”

He seemed to perk up at that, hopefully forgetting about the swing entirely. “Wait, really? Already?”

“Yes, because unlike some, I am a serious ninja.”

“Whatever, just tell me,” Boruto whined. When Sarada just raised an eyebrow in answer, he muttered, “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? It was just–” he covered a cough with his hand, and Sarada narrowed her eyes. “Just... nothing, I thought it was really – nothing.”

Ignoring Boruto’s sudden self-interruption, Sarada nodded warily. “Apology accepted, but only just.” Boruto nodded, cheeks red for some reason. If she stopped and pondered every one of Boruto’s oddities, she’d never have time for anything else. “So remember that talk I had with my mom several days ago?”

Boruto sat up straighter. “Yeah, how’d it go?”

Sarada gave him an abridged version of events, cutting out the sappy emotional reassurances and focusing on the factual contents of her mother’s story. Facts were good.

When she finished, silently staring out at the waterfall, focusing on the far-off staticy sound of water hitting itself, Boruto asked, “So everything’s fine, right? Sounds like your parents have everything worked out.”

Sarada nodded. “I’m happy that my mom’s happy. That’s all that matters.”

Boruto frowned in thought, picking at some grass brushing his bare knee. “She wanted a kid and got a good one, of course she’s happy.”

There was a shared pause as they both processed what Boruto had inadvertently said. Boruto had his gaze locked on the grass he’d picked, but his cheeks were turning red once again.

“Not that – I didn’t mean it like – shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sarada said in a low voice, a smile slowly spreading over her lips. “But thanks.”

Boruto groaned loudly, huffing as he fell back on the ground. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered, pulling up more grass absently. Sarada wasn’t sure if that was meant for her or not, so she let it go.

“From here,” she continued, getting back to business. “There are still things that don’t quite add up to me. That’s where you become useful.”

“Wow, I wasn’t useful before?”

“Not really, no.”

“Wow. Well gee, now I can’t wait to help.”

Sarada rolled her eyes, about to lecture Boruto about how necessary maturity and tact were in this next leg of their mission, when a voice called out to her.

“Hey babe, long time no see!”

Sarada turned, confused and offended, until she realized it was just Chouchou.

“Ew, why’re you calling me babe?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, walking leisurely over to their shaded area. “It felt right in the moment. I’m regretting it now. ‘Sup Uzumaki.”

Boruto scowled up at her from his position sprawled out in the grass. “What’re you doing here, Akimichi?”

“What a lady’s man,” Chouchou teased, sitting down next to her. “Ever the charmer, just like your old man.” She didn’t think it was possible, but Boruto’s scowl deepened even further. “By the way, your mom’s cookies were amazing today–”

“Fuck you Akimichi! Stop stealing my shit all the damn time! I wanted those cookies!”

This would spiral predictably if Sarada didn’t step in. “Look you guys, I don’t think–”

“Well if you improved your observational skills, I wouldn’t be able to take your shit all the damn time.”

“Don’t turn this around on me, I’m the victim here!”

“I’m helping you, honestly.”

“What?”

Boruto's face was rapidly turning an angry red. Under different circumstances, Sarada would've found it funny. Instead she just sighed, resignedly slumping back against the tree and staring at the leaves up above. Maybe they’d just burn themselves out on their own.

It took nearly ten minutes of bickering, but they eventually calmed down enough to notice Sarada’s silence.

“I’m sorry Sarada, I can’t help but attract the spotlight everywhere I go.”

Chouchou’s deadpan delivery made Sarada burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad.”

Boruto frowned, shuffling a hand through his hair messily. “You never get mad at Akimichi.”

Sarada raised an eyebrow at him, then smooshed her palms against Chouchou’s cheeks. “How could anyone be angry with this face, hah?”

Chouchou giggled. “It’s pretty damn hard.”

“Damn straight.”

“Wow, Sarada is cursing again. I love it.”

Boruto sighed, grumbling to himself as he fell back into the grass. “So did you invite her here? I thought it’d be just… you know, us.”

Sarada looked at Chouchou questioningly. “Yeah, why are you here Chouchou?”

The girl in question paused, rubbing her chin in an exaggerated demonstration of thinking deeply. “Well, a certain someone I know has looked really tired this week.” Her gaze sharpened on Sarada, making her swallow nervously. “And that certain someone also loves using training as a coping mechanism, which is unhealthy and more than a bit unproductive.”

“What’s a coping mechanism?”

“Shut up Boruto, not everything is about you.”

“Ugh, this is stupid,” he complained. Still, he went back to picking at the grass.

“That certain someone has undergone a lot of emotional turmoil lately, what with their father being back in town and that shithead Hiroki pulling stupid stunts–”

“Shit, I forgot about him,” Boruto muttered, glaring at the leaves overhead.

“He hasn’t given you shit, right?”

Sarada shook her head. In the wake of everything else that'd happened, she'd nearly forgotten about her old bully. “I’ve seen him a few times, but I think he’s scared of me now.”

Boruto and Chouchou both narrowed their eyes at her, darkly responding in unison. “Good.”

Chouchou went on. “Anyway, I wanted to make sure that certain someone was okay. And since this is her favorite training ground, I figured I’d find her here.”

“Wow, sounds like you’re really involved in this girl’s life.”

“Shut up Uchiha, you’re not cute enough to feign innocence,” Chouchou scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Sarada mock-pouted.

“Okay that’s a total lie, but still.”

She giggled. “Our missions didn’t really line up this week, huh?”

“You’ve obviously been suffering without me,” Chouchou mumbled, hugging her with an arm around her shoulders.

“Alright, so you’ve properly checked on me, and discovered that I’m obviously fine.” Sarada smiled, even as Chouchou removed her arm and settled for leaning their arms together, backs against the wide tree trunk. “Still seems like you’re sticking around for a while.”

“That cool?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. Boruto?”

He perked up at being included in the conversation again. “What?”

“Can Chouchou stay?”

He pulled a face, some mix of nausea and disgust. “Does she have to?”

“What if I told you I saved one of your cookies?”

“You should’ve said that earlier!”

A few minutes later, Boruto was happily munching away on one of Lady Hinata’s shortbread cookies. It must be nice to live such a simple life.

“So Chouchou,” Sarada started, pulling away so she could more easily look her in the eye. “Boruto and I have a plan. I want answers about the Hokage and Lady Hinata’s–”

“Ooo, is this about the marriage shams?”

“Yup.”

Boruto frowned, glaring at them both. “Don’t call it that.”

“I call it like I see it, little man.”

“Don’t–”

“I talked with my mom the other day,” Sarada interrupted. She didn’t have the patience to wait through another of their typical arguments. “I already told Boruto, but he can sit through it again.”

After another retelling of the facts of her mom’s story, Chouchou was frowning seriously.

“Damn Uchiha, you’re really something else.”

Sarada squinted. “What does that even mean?”

“You’re just… Shit, it’s cute that your mom wanted you so bad.”

She hummed, looking down at where her fingers were clasped together. “I guess.”

“And I guess you know now that your dad wanted you too. At least a little bit."

“Maybe…”

“Your mom is such a badass,” Chouchou muttered, looking off into the distance because she loved to be dramatic like that. “I can’t believe she rebelled against the system so hard that she invented her own way around patrilineal social norms.”

Sarada laughed awkwardly, fidgeting with her bangs self-consciously. “I didn’t really think of it like that.”

“What a badass. She totally subverted your expectations of romance, huh?”

Sarada thought back to their conversation over barbecue. It felt like months had passed, so much had happened. She’d been so cynical about love, convinced her mom was a victim in all of this. It was a massive relief to know that wasn’t the case.

“I guess,” she eventually responded, eyes drawn back to the nearby waterfall.

“Wait, what expectations of romance?”

“Shut up Boruto. Like I said, not everything is about you.”

All in all, it was a nice way to spend an afternoon. They chatted idly underneath the shade of the wide oak tree, laughing and picking on Boruto (he didn’t seem that bothered about it). When Sarada eventually told them her plan regarding Lady Hinata, Chouchou insisted on helping out. Boruto had seemed uncomfortable with his role, but ultimately agreed without being pressured.

Tucked into bed, carefully watching the sunflower and the tea tin, Sarada fell asleep easily that night.

Chapter Text

The Hyuuga compound was a massive network of traditional-style wooden buildings. Recreated after the village was destroyed from Pain’s attack, clan elders enjoyed the same trappings of wealth they’d grown up with. Wide courtyards and serene rest areas dotted the complex from above, and Sarada took immense pleasure in spying her target so easily from this angle.

According to Boruto, they spent just about every weekend at the Hyuuga family home. Sometimes he and Himawari would arrive alongside their mother on a Friday afternoon, and other weeks she would already have preceded them by several days. As the heiress to the Hyuuga clan, Lady Hinata enjoyed one of the more spacious, private buildings within the clan gates. She oftentimes came to this place of solitude to relax several times a week, as relaxation was recommended by family physicians due to her frail disposition.

Well, Boruto hadn’t called her frail, but Sarada had eyes. As reluctant as she was to judge a book by its cover, Lady Hinata seemed quite weak, bordering on sickly. Village gossip claimed that although she’d once been a strong kunoichi, she’d never had the best endurance, which was why her two pregnancies had taken such a significant toll. She favored loose, light robes, lived off of her family’s wealth, and spent her days as an idyllic housewife. Meanwhile, her husband was slaving away with efforts to reform Konoha into a bustling metropolis.

Thinking about the differences in lifestyles made Sarada frown. Watching Lady Hinata sweep the back porch to their weekend house, she felt bad for her. She’d once had dreams of becoming a strong ninja, just like the ones Sarada still had the potential to make a reality. But it was very obvious that Lady Hinata's health had peaked early in life, and she was cursed to slowly live out the steady downward decline.

“What a weakling,” Chouchou muttered, dark and unsympathetic.

“What the hell?” Sarada turned to her, incredulous. “What’s your issue?”

“Look at how slim and pretty and dainty she is.” Chouchou stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Doesn’t it piss you off?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I kind of feel bad for her.”

“Well, most people would look at her and fall over themselves fawning, wanting to protect her and shit.” Chouchou broke off a tree branch, meticulously snapping it into smaller and smaller pieces. “And then they look at girls like me and wonder what I eat for breakfast, why I don’t try dieting more, and then they pity me because what guy would ever want–”

“She doesn’t ask to be fawned over,” Sarada huffed, smacking Chouchou on the back of the head. “She’s a victim of society’s expectations just like you are.”

Chouchou sighed, but fell silent once more.

Lady Hinata set aside the broom, gingerly stepping down from the patio and walking over to a nearby pond. A servant – an actual servant – came out of the house, quickly disappearing with the discarded broom before Lady Hinata could even glance in his direction. Sometimes Sarada forgot Boruto belonged to ninja royalty.

Even though there was a carved wooden bench nearby, Lady Hinata sat atop a high, wide stone nestled in the shade of a nearby tree, her legs crossed and hanging slightly to the side. If someone took her picture in this moment, they wouldn’t need to alter her pose at all. She was the epitome of a delicate maiden, dark hair fluttering in the breeze and pale skin standing out against the dark of the shade, light blue fabric a beautiful contrast to the oranges of the late afternoon sun.

“She’s just so pretty,” Chouchou whispered. “It doesn’t make logical sense.”

Sarada smirked at her. “Jealous?”

“Only of her hair. It’s perfect.”

Sarada glanced up at Chouchou’s unruly pigtails, hair nearly spiking out despite the hair ties’ attempt to take away some of its volume. “I don’t know, it’s a bit boring.”

“True,” Chouchou said, running her fingers through her bangs. “Mine’s got personality.”

“Obviously.”

“…I was out of line earlier, sorry.”

Sarada smiled kindly at her, patting her shoulder. “It’s fine, no one’s perfect all the time.”

“Speak for yourself, Uchiha. I’m flawless.”

She shouldn’t laugh, she was on a mission. Sarada barely held it in, but Chouchou’s eyes shone with satisfied amusement anyway.

“So where’s your teammate?” She huffed, crossing her arms. “He’s supposed to get us access so we can interrogate the suspect.”

“Did you even listen to anything I said earlier?” Sarada rolled her eyes. “We’re not supposed to be noticed, and Boruto is the one asking all the questions.”

“I knoooow, I’m just boooored. We should be looking for a way closer,” Chouchou complained quietly. “Instead, you’re just staring at her, and I’m just staring at her, and nothing is getting done.”

“I was thinking!”

“For five straight minutes? About what, a math equation? Can you not multitask?”

Sarada sighed. “Fine, I’ll just stop thinking then.”

“Thank you.” Chouchou pointed to a nearby tree, slightly closer to Lady Hinata and with larger, denser leaves. “I think we should relocate.”

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

Quickly and silently, they jumped from one limb to another, skipping across the branches until they found themselves in the right tree. From this angle, Sarada could actually see partway into the back of the house, large sliding paper doors opened for fresh air. She couldn’t see Lady Hinata’s face anymore, which meant she wouldn’t be able to accidentally see her and Chouchou.

“Good thinking,” Sarada whispered, lips barely moving. This close, they’d have to be much more careful about getting overheard. “Boruto will be another three minutes.”

Chouchou nodded in understanding. She knew her voice carried easily.

Sure enough, three minutes later Boruto came walking out of the back of the house, hands in his pockets. It was a nervous habit of his, and Sarada gnashed her teeth at seeing the obviously suspicious display. If she’d picked up on it as just his teammate, surely his own mother also knew it.

They’d decided that Boruto would be the best one to approach Lady Hinata, a decision that Sarada was only kind of regretting. After all, Lady Hinata was a shy woman, enigmatic with most just as a way to ease conversations and not out of any real sociable nature. Meanwhile, the Hokage was friendly with anyone, made friends throughout his youth as easily as picking flowers in a field.

Sarada needed to stop comparing and contrasting the Hokage and his wife. It wasn’t productive or anything, just a reflex that was distracting her from the task at hand.

They’d agreed as a group that Lady Hinata would never open up to a complete stranger, even if it was her son’s teammate. That meant that Sarada couldn’t be the one down there, slowly but surely walking toward their mission objective. (Chouchou hadn’t even been considered for the role of interrogator, for obvious reasons.)

“Ah, Boruto!” Lady Hinata called out, voice happy and light once she’d seen her son approaching. “Welcome home.”

He nodded. Boruto was naturally petulant enough to get away with it, but such a response would’ve had Sarada’s mom’s instincts on high alert in seconds.

“How was your day?”

“Fine,” Boruto muttered, coming to a stop beside the stone his mother was sitting on.

“Oh, sorry, I’m in your spot today.”

“It’s fine.”

They fell silent, making Sarada cringe. Were they always like this? No, surely Boruto is just uncomfortable because he knows he has an audience. They should’ve told Boruto to question her and report back, then she and Chouchou could’ve eavesdropped without either of them knowing and he’d be far less stiff. Or perhaps Lady Hinata was just quiet around her family, as she was with most people.

No, after the entertaining, sometimes convoluted stories Boruto had told her and Mitsuki about her, Sarada was convinced this interaction was an anomaly for them.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Boruto eventually muttered, toeing a small dent in the grass surrounding the small pond.

“Of course, sweetie. What is it?”

Boruto’s cheeks colored a bit, and Sarada slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. He was embarrassed at having them overhear the pet name!

Chouchou nudged her with her elbow, raising her eyebrows at Boruto’s expression and smirking. Sarada returned the expression. They’d tease him mercilessly later.

“Well, it’s kind of weird,” he hedged, avoiding eye contact with his mom in favor of staring at the placid pond surface. A light breeze swept by, disturbing the water and snapping Boruto out of whatever he’d been thinking. “I have a question about dad.”

“You should go see him, I’m sure he’d love a visit,” she responded, voice still light and happy. “In fact, when was the last time you saw your father?”

“A few days ago,” Boruto muttered. “But I can’t ask him this directly.”

“Oh, did you? Good! Alright then, what is it?”

“Do… how did he propose to you?”

Lady Hinata stayed silent for several moments. Sarada really wished she could see her expression right now, as Boruto’s was becoming steadily more red at whatever face his mom was pulling. She eventually asked, voice teasing, “Boruto, is there someone you want to marry?”

“No, that’s not – don’t be – why would you – no!”

They’d gone over the specific questions Boruto should ask her, but for the most part he was expected to freestyle the exchange. They hadn’t wanted to make Lady Hinata suspicious, making Boruto speak in a way that was out of character for him. One look at Boruto’s panicked expression had Sarada thinking that this freedom might have been a bad idea.

Once again, Chouchou elbowed her. She gave her some sort of smug look, whatever that meant.

“Well, why else would you ask me that?”

Boruto sighed, loud and long and overly dramatic. “Because I want to know, that’s why. Someone was talking about how their parents met and got married and stuff, and I realized I didn’t really know that about my own parents, so I thought I’d just, you know, ask.”

“Wait, why can’t you ask your father about this?”

Boruto’s frowned turned dark. “Because that nasty perv would just tease me.”

Hinata giggled, the sound soft and gentle. “Perhaps.”

“So?” Boruto sat down on a neighboring stone, legs wide for balance as he faced his mother. “How’d he propose to you?”

“Well…” Lady Hinata trailed off, looking out over the water. “Most people know how it happened. We had gone out for dinner in the evening. We had been talking normally for a while, but then he started saying all these romantic things. I could tell he had rehearsed beforehand.” She giggled, running her fingers through her hair. “Then before I knew it, he was pulling out a ring and asking for my hand in marriage.” Sarada could hear the smile in her voice as she retold memories she probably hadn’t thought about recently. “Your father had been so nervous! He could barely get the words out, and everyone around us thought it was so sweet…”

Boruto grinned up at her, expression relaxed. “I bet you were so happy.”

Lady Hinata nodded, humming her assent. For some reason Sarada held her breath, practically vibrating with anticipation.

After several moments of watching the placid surface of the pond, she went on. “You know, traditional engagements involved a series of gift exchanges,” she murmured, voice low and a bit playful. She very obviously enjoyed having her son’s undivided attention. “Typically, the man’s family would send gifts to the woman’s through a messenger, like a brother or some important third party. There would be a feast if the advances were accepted, then the messenger would return to his family home, bringing the good news and precipitating another happy feast with his own family. Certain gifts have certain meanings – really, it all used to be rather complex.”

“Yeah, it sounds like a pain,” Boruto interjected – not to start talking himself, but to show he was listening.

Lady Hinata nodded. “It was. It was how most marriages happened between important families, however…”

She seemed lost in thought for a few moments. Boruto acted as if this was normal, his mom trailing off mid-sentence. In fact, his body language was open and eager, happy to listen to his mother talk and patient enough to last through the silences, giving her time to collect her thoughts.

“Well,” she eventually went on. “We live in a modern era. In the aftermath of the Fourth Great War, Konoha turned away from a lot of older, more complicated traditions. Nowadays, couples simply exchange jewelry, usually rings. It was some custom picked up from some neighboring land, I have no idea where…”

Lady Hinata was staring off over the surface of the pond again. When she seemed disinclined to go on, Boruto led her on with, “So what did dad give you when he proposed?”

“A ring,” she answered, still seeming distracted. “You’ve seen it, I’m sure. It is displayed in the main house.”

Boruto nodded. “In that shrine with the tall candles?”

“Yes, exactly. My, marriages sure have changed these days…” Reluctantly, she admitted, “They had not always been done out of love.”

Sarada nearly gasped. Boruto did.

“What?”

“Well,” Lady Hinata trailed off again. “Families arranged to join together, and their children were the vehicle for that union. The preferences of the couple were rarely ever considered. It was all about what made the family stronger.”

“Stronger?"

“You see, land, especially agriculturally productive land, was used to measure wealth. For centuries, land had been passed down through the women of a family, but those same women could not hold jobs or be politically influential like their male counterparts. Therefore, strengthening a family meant marrying a land-owning daughter off to a man high in the regional political hierarchy. He would move in with her family, earn income to expand the family and increase the land’s productivity, and she would be the one to pass it down to their daughter, and so on.”

“…Oh.” Oh was right. That sounded like a pretty convoluted system.

“Anyway, your father’s and mine’s engagement was complicated by the Hyuuga family’s desire to hold onto traditional methods, to marry me off to someone who would benefit our family. Naturally, your father clashed with these old-fashioned values.”

Sarada respected the Hokage even more.

“Huh…” it kind of sounded like Boruto did as well.

“Before the proposal, there had been many meetings between your father and the family elders,” Lady Hinata sighed before going on. “Lots of shouting, which was normal with your father back then. He’d always been such a loud boy,” she giggled.

Sarada frowned. The Hokage used to yell a lot? Sure he could be lively, but she genuinely couldn’t imagine what he’d look like angry.

Lady Hinata continued on distractedly, seemingly unaware of either one of her audiences. “They were torn about allowing his advances. Accepting them would mean embracing the prestige the future Hokage’s name would bring to our family, but they wanted someone else for me, someone from a similarly noble background, someone more familiar with storied family traditions. Your father had no family and no wealth to speak of, thus a lot of the proper ceremonies could not be carried out. They’d wanted to hold onto old ways in the wake of this new era, as they’d done our family well in the past. But… with your Uncle Neji’s legacy, and the direction that the village was moving in, they eventually decided to side with progress, setting aside the old ways, all so that your father and I could be together.”

She turned back to Boruto, voice no longer serious. Sarada could hear the smile in the voice, and it rubbed her the wrong way. “Our marriage was a symbol of progress for the village. Quite romantic, right?”

Boruto frowned. “A symbol?”

God, he was dense sometimes.

“Yes, exactly.” Lady Hinata nodded, smile probably indulgent at having Boruto listening so closely. “Our marriage was good for the village. It demonstrated how we would progress as a village, how we’d link ties between the old and the new with nothing but love in our hearts.”

Boruto bit his lip, nodding. “That sounds nice…”

Lady Hinata extended a hand to pat Boruto tenderly on the head. “You seem troubled. What is it?”

He shook his head, fidgeting his hands in his lap. Sarada glared at him, silently willing him to ask the second question they’d planned. That damn idiot better remember what they’d gone over.

“So the family elders already knew dad would be Hokage one day?” Sarada rolled her eyes at the unplanned question.

Lady Hinata sounded as if she was smiling when she replied, “Of course they did! The whole village did, in fact. There was never anyone else it could have been.”

Chouchou suddenly reached out, grabbing her arm and tugging. Sarada raised her eyebrow in question, but she couldn’t properly decipher the urgent, “Did you hear that?!” look Chouchou was giving her. What had been surprising about what Lady Hinata had said?

“Boruto?”

“Um, I have… another question.”

“Alright, go ahead,” Lady Hinata laughed her dainty laugh. Sarada shifted her weight anxiously at the sound.

“How long did you and dad date for before he proposed?” Good, Boruto was back on track.

“Hmm, well…” Lady Hinata cocked her head before replying, “You know, I don’t think we did date.”

What?

“What?”

“Of course, we had a mutual understanding that we loved each other,” Lady Hinata explained, waving away Boruto’s incredulous look. “But we never did any couple activities. I’d let him know my feelings when we were teenagers, and he’d been receptive at the time. After the Fourth Great War he was so busy, sorting out the village’s affairs, training to become Hokage and whatnot. There simply wasn’t much time to see each other.” She giggled again, and this time the sound was wistful. “There still isn’t, really.”

Boruto’s frown had only deepened as she’d talked, until he was scowling down at his hands.

“Boruto?”

“I think I asked the wrong question,” he muttered darkly. “I meant when did you guys get to know each other?”

Sarada nodded, happy that he remembered the intent behind their carefully planned inquiry.

“What do you mean? We grew up together, sweetie.”

“Well,” Boruto fidgeted even more. “When did you guys make time for like… long talks and stuff?” He paused for his mom to respond, but when Lady Hinata stayed silent, he barreled on. “When did you learn about his favorite color? When did he first cook a meal for you, or when did you tell him about your greatest fears? When did you guys actually sit down and talk about–” Boruto swallowed, obviously nervous and surprised at how far he’d overstepped. Lady Hinata’s silence seemed to express the same feeling.

Anything, Sarada mentally completed for him.

“Boruto, what’s this all about?” Voice gentle and placating, Lady Hinata reached out again, this time placing her hand gingerly on Boruto’s arm. Chouchou mirrored the action, grabbing Sarada’s arm again in a nervous gesture.

Boruto yanked his arm back as if he’d been burned, rubbing at the place her hand had touched. “I… just, when…?”

Lady Hinata shook her head slowly, leaning in closer. “Love is different for everyone, sweetie. Some people do all those things, and others, they just… understand each other.”

Boruto shot to his feet, hands balled into shaking fists. He shouted, “If you don’t do those things, then how do you know it’s love?”

He was breathing harshly, eyes blazing with suppressed anger. Sarada’s chest throbbed, and she grabbed at her stomach over her shirt. Her blood was pounding, palms starting to sweat. Chouchou’s hand squeezed tighter.

“Boruto, why are you upset?”

“Why aren’t you?!”

With that, Boruto ran off, dashing around the corner of the house. Sarada took a steadying breath, watching him disappear – and from this angle, she couldn’t see where he went.

As she leapt back, up and away from Chouchou and the idyllic house and the placid pond, she heard Lady Hinata sigh even as branches cracked under the force of her feet.

Soon enough Sarada reach an alleyway behind the walls of the Hyuuga complex, then followed it back to the main road. Boruto was supposed to meet them at this corner, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming.

“Hey, Sarada! Wait!”

Chouchou caught up to her as she was preparing to dash off again. She grabbed Sarada’s arm, tugging to hold her in place.

“Let me go!” She nearly shouted, trying to pull her arm back. “He was so upset, I have to–”

“Take a moment,” Chouchou grunted, strong grip barely preventing her from running off. “Let him get to wherever he needs to go, and let him have some time to think.”

“No, he was… but I need to…” Sarada coughed – no, she choked. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t been pushing and prodding for information that was none of her business, her friend would be fine. He wouldn’t be running off somewhere, angry and confused and hurt at the state of his parents’ real relationship.

“Breath Sarada, he’s going to be fine.” Chouchou rubbed circles into her back, and the gesture was just comforting enough to calm down her erratic breaths.

Shaking, Sarada nodded, inhaling deeply. “What… what do you think that all meant?”

Chouchou frowned, sad and resigned. “I think Lady Hinata thinks she’s in love.”

Sarada nodded, couldn’t seem to stop nodding. “I think so too.”

“I think her family played a bigger role in their engagement than she thinks. I mean, if they knew he’d be Hokage, then obviously they knew the marriage would benefit them.” As Chouchou spoke, the sinking feeling in Sarada’s stomach worsened. “I mean, think about it. That reason Lady Hinata gave was total bullshit. If guys were traditionally supposed to be politically powerful, then why would they fight off the future Hokage’s advances? You know they totally wanted him in the Hyuuga clan.”

“Damn, I hadn’t thought about that at all,” Sarada muttered, even more worried for Boruto now.

“What dicks.”

She tried to smile, but the motion felt wobbly. “I can’t imagine the Hokage actually yelling at anyone. Especially not a room full of old people.”

Chouchou sighed. “I also think the Hokage is a smart guy. He probably knows it’s not love, probably even knew about the family wanting him so bad, even if Lady Hinata is only seeing what she wants to see.”

She nodded again, staring down at her feet. “I thought that, but I wasn’t sure if…”

“If what?”

“Well, do you really think Lady Hinata thinks all that?” Sarada met Chouchou’s steady gaze, steeling herself automatically in response. Honestly, she was very lucky to have to such a down-to-earth friend. “Maybe she wasn’t being honest with Boruto, you know? I mean, just because the Hokage is smart doesn’t mean she’s stupid. Surely she’s realized… I don’t know, that she doesn’t live inside a fairy tale? Surely she knows that love just… it doesn’t actually work like that.”

Chouchou shrugged. “The smartest people become idiots for love. And on some level, we all see what we want to see.”

Sarada laughed, the sound tired after everything they’d heard tonight. “You cynical bitch you. You’re probably right.”

“Damn right I’m right.” Chouchou perked up, looking over Sarada’s shoulder. “And look at that, my hunch was right too.”

Sarada turned to follow her gaze, but before she could even ask for clarification she was swept up in a rush of blonde hair and orange fabric.

Boruto held her tightly, face buried in her shoulder and arms around her waist. Sarada reacted on instinct, hugging him back without a second thought. As she realized what was happening, her questions got stuck in her throat, hands trembling slightly. She looked to Chouchou in a panic, unsure of what exactly was going on, but the traitor was laughing silently to herself, pulling out her phone to take pictures.

With a deep sigh, Boruto eventually pulled back, standing at attention. His fierce gaze held Sarada’s undoubtedly confused one.

“I’m sorry for not completing the mission,” he stated, voice steady.

Sarada shook her head, stepping forward to grab his arm. “Boruto, don’t worry about that right now. Are you okay?”

He took another deep breath, slowly placing his hand over Sarada’s. He closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Your mom is really sweet,” Chouchou interjected. Boruto jumped, looking as if he’d forgotten she was there. “It’s nice to connect a personality with all those delicious desserts in your lunchbox.”

Boruto rolled his eyes and petulantly muttered, “Drop dead, Akimichi.”

Sarada smiled tentatively up at him. “You seemed upset earlier. Are you sure you’re fine?”

After studying her for a few moments Boruto smiled, expression kind but sad. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

She nodded, letting the subject drop like he obviously wanted. “That was… a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys going to disconnect anytime soon, or am I going to have to start taking Boruto on all our shopping trips?”

Boruto yanked his hand back, eyes wide and cheeks flushing. The sudden cold on her palm made Sarada frown, and she turned her look on Chouchou. “We don’t go shopping.”

“But we could.”

“With what money?”

“Oh my god, do you not ask your mom for money?”

“Not really, she just gives me a little spending money from time to time. Do you?”

“All the time, Uchiha. All the time. Literally every single day.”

Boruto sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are so annoying.”

Chouchou wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Oh please, you wish you could be me.”

“Never. I’ve literally never thought that.”

“I think otherwise, sweetie.”

Sarada cleared her throat at Boruto’s tomato-colored face, heading off the bickering before it could really begin. “So you guys… I know it’s kind of soon, but what do we do now?”

Boruto sighed, looking somewhere off across the street. Chouchou crossed her arms, staring her down, waiting to see what they decided.

“I think,” Boruto eventually muttered, still staring off. “That my mom is biased.”

“I agree,” Sarada mumbled, unable to try to make eye contact.

“If we want to truly complete this mission, we should probably… talk to my gross dad.”

Chouchou nodded. “I was thinking about that, and I think Sarada should be the one to talk to him.” Twin looks of confusion and horror swiveled toward her, but Chouchou was unfazed. “Boruto was right earlier when he said he’d be teased by his dad. If he goes to the Hokage asking about anything remotely involving his wife or romance, he’s gonna get laughed out of the room.”

Boruto sighed resignedly, “You’re probably right, he’s super gross like that.”

“Plus he’s kind of close with Sarada, right?” Chouchou turned to her and continued, “He at least has a weak spot for you, that much is for sure.” Sarada shrugged, not entirely believing her but too exhausted to fight it. “I think he’d be more honest with you.”

Sarada frowned. “Why would you think that?”

But Boruto was nodding, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I think you’re onto something Akimichi. Since I’m a part of the family, he might want to keep things from me. But Sarada is just…” He trailed off, turning to stare intently at Sarada.

She flushed under the attention. “I’m just what?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, turning and coughing into his fist. “Whatever, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Thank you,” Chouchou loudly proclaimed. “With that settled, let’s go eat!”

“What? No, it's not settled! I have so much research to do now,” Sarada complained, rubbing away her headache at the mere thought. “Also, how are you even hungry right now?”

“Excuse you, I haven’t eaten all day.”

Sarada raised her eyebrow.

“Alright, I haven’t eaten in like two hours. But still.”

Boruto shrugged. “I could eat.”

Sarada sighed.

That’s how they found themselves going out for barbecue at six in the evening, enthusiastically welcomed into the bustling restaurant and seated at a table that seemed to come out of nowhere, all because they had an Akimichi in their group. Or maybe it was the son of the Hokage. The waiter seemed to stare at Chouchou a lot, so Sarada doubted the latter.

Boruto helped Chouchou prepare the meat, since she let it slip that Sarada tended to forget about it. He stacked meat on her plate and she idly ate it just because it was placed in front of her. Boruto and Chouchou chatted, bickering good-naturedly but ultimately not devolving into a real fight for once. Sarada watched them talk, but she couldn’t find it in her to join in.

She and Boruto were so different. If she’d been in his place, she’d have run off by herself. She’d have thrown herself into her training, would’ve come home late, given her mom a huge hug, then slept in so late she’d miss school the next day. She’d have sulked and pouted and stomped her feet, moaning about how unfair it all was and crying over having such dysfunctional parents. Hell, she basically had done that when her father implied that he didn’t love her mom.

But here Boruto was, out with friends, laughing and ribbing Chouchou with a sincere smile on his face. How did he do it? How could he just compartmentalize his feelings like that, bouncing back and helping them plan out more ways to dig up the hardships of his family life?

What were his motivations in all this? Like Sarada, did he simply want the truth? Or was he looking for reasons to justify his negative feelings toward his dad?

Probably feeling the weight of her gaze, Boruto turned to look at her. “What, is there sauce on my face?”

She shook her head, shoving more food in her mouth. Chouchou laughed at her chubby cheeks, and she countered by reminding Chouchou of the time she’d filled her mouth so full she’d nearly choked. Boruto rolled his eyes, unsurprised, but still laughed.

He eventually turned his smile toward her, and she found herself smiling tentatively back.

Chapter Text

Sarada’s life had been straddling the line between difficult and easy for many years now. She was a talented kunoichi, but she was plagued with thoughts of being on the outside looking in. She was smart, not unattractive, and had many supportive friends who she’d die protecting; but her own insecurities held her back, kept her from fully putting herself out there and turning her worldview cynical.

Hearing Lady Hinata’s testimony had been… well, it’d been a blow. She couldn’t pretend that most of it was okay – in fact, it was incredibly problematic. But Lady Hinata was so self-deluded, so immersed in her own fantasy…

Well, at least Sarada was self-aware enough to fully see her lot in life.

Boruto had been incredibly brave that day. He must have been terrified at what he might uncover about his own family. It’s not easy to interrogate one’s own mother, Sarada knew that firsthand – and for an audience, no less. But he and Chouchou both still wanted to help and had been asking Sarada for the next stage of their mission all weekend. She kept deflecting, unsure of how to put her intentions into words.

She knew she was pulling away. Things had gotten real – too real – at the Hyuuga family compound. She didn’t want to put her friends into such an emotionally compromising scenario if she could help it. After all, they’d both agreed Sarada should be the one to take the lead on the next stage of the mission. So here she was, taking the next step. Alone.

She’d tell them about it later. For now, she needed to just… act. And stop thinking so much.

Every time she considered what they knew so far and what they still needed to know, some sixth sense awakened in her, urging her to run screaming in the other direction from the truth. She didn’t quite know how to put it, but somehow discovering the truth, whatever it may be, would surely alter her life dramatically. The possibility for an anticlimactic conclusion was there, but Sarada didn’t believe it would come to pass.

No, some unpleasant revelation was on the horizon. Her parents’ loveless marriage of convenience and the Hokage’s power-hungry relatives arranging affairs for their own gain, all converging on a single genin team plus Lady Hinata – how could it all not be connected?

She just had to figure out how the pieces all fit together. Staying up late or burying herself in training to empty her mind didn’t change that, so now Sarada was taking the Boruto approach to all this: act first, think later. Sometimes instinct and in-the-moment gut feelings could elucidate even the most convoluted problems, and dumb luck was oftentimes a ninja’s best friend.

Yes, there was one lead she’d been ignoring since the hospital visit. She’d sent off the messenger hawk Sunday night and was currently waiting for her impromptu plan to unfold. Step one was to meet up with her father, and step two was to ask him… something.

Boruto would be proud of how little she’d thought this through.

The meeting place was Plaza 5 and the time was 4 o’clock, an hour after school let out. Huge flocks of people bustled by this deep into downtown on a Monday. It was a short walk from here to Auntie Ino’s shop, just long enough to afford them a few minutes of looking around distractedly before having to stare one another down across a cramped table in a tea parlor.

As her phone clock struck 4 and Sarada glanced around, she noticed him some several blocks away, right on time. His figure was barely visible over the sea of heads, but Sarada could glimpse her father’s trademark dark cloak as the sea of bodies diverged periodically, almost rhythmically. He’d already caught sight of her and was making a beeline for her current position. She refused to show it, but she was relieved he’d decided to come.

“Messenger hawks are quite dramatic,” her father said by way of greeting.

Sarada couldn’t help but smirk when she rolled her eyes and quipped, “Gee, I wonder where I got that from.”

Refusing to validate her comment with a response, her father deflected. “Let’s walk,” he said, swishing his cloak (dramatically) as he turned into the current of pedestrians. Sarada stayed close, eyeing the back of his shoulders as they went.

Last time they’d been walking a similar path to this same destination, her father had been little more than a stranger. Now that she’d had the chance to interact with him, experience his training methods, study Uchiha family jutsu, even watch how he organically interacted with others… Sarada couldn’t go back to being strangers with him again, she just couldn’t.

If this afternoon went badly, it would hurt. She hated to admit it, but it would.

One of Chouchou’s comforting shoulder pats or Boruto’s stupid smile would’ve been great right about now. Hell, even Mitsuki’s look of distant amusement would’ve been a sight for sore eyes. But she chose this path forward, acting alone and without thinking (damn Boruto and the example he set), and she was stuck on it now.

Watching her father’s straight back, Sarada suddenly became aware of her own poor posture and took a moment to un-slump her shoulders. She folded her hands in the small of her back to avoid nervously toying with her bangs, an anxious tick that Chouchou said gave away her true emotions.

With a few twists and turns they came upon the façade of Auntie Ino’s tea shop. Just like last time, they passed the street carts and shop window displays in her next-door plant nursery. Sarada couldn’t recall which flowers had been in season nearly a month ago now, but the warmth of the encroaching summer months meant sunflowers were overflowing out of artsy wooden barrels all along the street. Lilies and roses were such delicate flowers that they were peeking out of the windowsills, while resilient but pillowy carnations in soft pinks and creams framed the doors of both shops.

All those sunflowers… Maybe this is this where the Hokage’s secret admirer bought them? After all, it was a fairly well-known shop.

That strange feeling returned, the one she’d been running away from all morning – hell, all weekend. Like stepping onto a rooftop and approaching the edge’s wide view, or releasing a kunai and knowing it would hit the target perfectly, Sarada felt as if something today would fall into place, as if she’d happen across some fantastic view that made everything clearer.

This feeling terrified her.

“You coming?”

Sarada broke out of her thoughts, turning to find she’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and that her father was waiting for her, holding up the short cloth hanging in the entryway to the tea parlor. Without responding, Sarada hustled to catch up with him, following him inside the familiar space.

It had been a while since she’d come here. In fact, the last time she’d visited had been with her father all that time ago. Mom was so busy with research and apprentices these days that she didn’t have the free time to drag Sarada along on her lunch dates with Auntie Ino anymore. Although Sarada was glad to no longer be forced to hang out with Inojin, she had definitely missed this place.

Cozy earth tones were the dominant color palette, an unobtrusive den of greens and browns. It was just as she remembered it, aside from the new sheer curtains framing the street-view windows along the shop’s front wall. At this awkward time between lunch and dinner, there weren’t too many people in the shop. Loyal customers usually came around noon for the light meals and refreshments this place offered.

A voice rang out across the shop, spoken with the confidence of someone who wasn’t afraid of being chastised by a supervisor.

“Well I’ll be! Two Uchiha’s at once? What is it, my birthday?”

Sarada grinned as Auntie Ino waved from the kitchen’s doorway. Her long blonde locks were pulled back in a fancy braid that swept from side to side as she approached, her forest green apron was dusted in flour and brown powder. She looked refreshed and happy, much like her mom back when Sarada was young. She happily returned her favorite aunt’s wide smile.

“It’s nice to see you Auntie Ino,” Sarada greeted warmly as she was swept up in a familiar pair of arms and lifted up off the ground.

“You’re so big!” Auntie smelled like cinnamon, so Sarada decided not to protest being picked up. “It’s only been a few months, but I swear you’ve grown a whole foot!”

“That’s not possible,” she chuckled, righting her glasses once she was set back down.

Auntie Ino ruffled her hair, then turned a surprisingly sharp look on her father. “Sasuke.”

Her father’s look was inscrutable, posture rigid. “Ino.”

“How go… things?”

“Fine.”

“I’m glad to see you guys out together,” she laughed, aiming a warm smile at Sarada that turned partially predatory when turned back on her father. “How’s Sakura doing these days? I haven’t seen her in soooo long – must’ve been what, a week? Ah, but that’s not even a second for you, right?”

Watching Auntie Ino sarcastically berate her father was incredibly satisfying, but knowing what Sarada now knew, her acceptance for her father’s behavior had grown. Did Auntie Ino know about the true state of her parents’ marriage too, or was she in the same dark Sarada had been wandering around in just two weeks ago?

“Fine,” he responded, seeming to hold back a sigh. “I saw her two days ago.”

“Oh, really?” Auntie Ino seemed genuinely surprised at that, mouth quirking in a teasing way. “That’s pretty recent for you. Must be a new record, hm?”

Sarada held in a laugh, but her father seemed far from amused.

“Ino, don’t–”

“How’s the Hokage doing?”

Her father sighed openly now, propping his hand on his hip in a show of annoyance. “He’s also fine.”

“I heard from Shikamaru that you met with him… hmm, must’ve been this morning?”

His mouth thinned as he pressed his lips together.

“Or was it last night? Oh silly me, it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes!”

Her father huffed – huffed – then turned away to walk to a table along the front wall without so much as a parting glance.

His abrupt annoyance was slightly surprising. Why had the topic of the Hokage irritated him? Were they fighting?

“What was that about?” She asked, eyebrow raised skeptically.

Auntie Ino laughed under her breath, looking at Sarada conspiratorially for some reason. “Oh, nothing sweetie,” she answered, waving off her question. “It’s just so much fun to ruffle your dad’s feathers.”

Sarada barely managed to hold back her incredulous look. People teased her father? And he allowed it? Regularly?

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Auntie Ino went on. “He’s always on all those missions – obviously, you know this. How long’s he been back for?”

“Like two weeks now?” Sarada answered. She steadfastly gripped her hands together as she muttered, “He came back on the day of the Hokage’s anniversary, but I don’t know how long he’s staying for – this time, anyway.”

“Is that so?” Auntie Ino leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head – just like her mom. The difference between them was that Auntie Ino did it constantly, so Sarada steeled herself for more assaults on the top of her head. “It’ll be good for you – for both of you. And I hear he’s planning on sticking around for a while, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

With that, she flounced off back into the café’s kitchen, waving and smiling all the way. She even caught her father’s eyes to blow him a kiss, and Sarada swears he wrinkled his nose in disgust before the expression disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

Sarada pursed her lips unhappily as she sat down. After Auntie Ino’s little display, she was reluctant to do anything to upset her father. Maybe she shouldn’t try to dig for any information today...

She opened her mouth, inhaling and ready to jump into the cold lake of conversation in one fell swoop, ready to accept the consequences of whatever her brain decided on in the moment, when Mei came bustling up to their table.

“It’s the Uchiha’s! Hello Sarada and Sasuke!” Her father’s eyebrow twitched, but his expression stayed plain. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you both together, wow you guys sure look – healthy! Very healthy?”

What the heck? Sarada smiled, holding in her sigh at Mei’s abnormally high level of perkiness. Her father seemed disinclined to humor her on this visit, as he stared out the window even as Mei tried to engage him.

“It’s not been long since I saw you though, Sasuke!” Her father’s eyebrow twitched again. “In fact, that day you came in I told Mrs. Ino about you, and she told me that you guys are long-time friends! And she gave me your name – did it surprise you when I used it just now? Ahaha, but your relationship with Mrs. Ino is so sweet! – but you know, I felt so embarrassed not knowing something simple like your name!”

Mei seemed ill again today, as her flush ran from her forehead down into the collar of her green uniform shirt, and her anecdotes were all over the place.

“Mei, could I have the lavender mint green tea?” Sarada interrupted, similarly disinterested in humoring her. “And he’ll have a normal green tea. With a slice of lemon on the side.”

Mei nodded, made several flustered noises, then scampered off. Hopefully she’d feel better soon?

With their server gone her father turned towards her, eyebrow raised. “I don’t take my tea with lemon.”

“You should try it,” Sarada explained, shrugging. “That’s why it’s on the side.”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair.

She crossed her arms, nerves kicking in once again. What should she do? Should she proceed with her admittedly hastily concocted plan, or just let the afternoon go whichever way it would? Her father wasn’t stupid, and surely any sudden questions about the Hokage’s marriage would be suspicious, right?

Above all, Sarada didn’t want to further isolate herself from her father. Despite his efforts to decrease the distance between them, it was still there. Maybe today could just be her way of further closing that gap, rather than a calculated step towards her secret mission “The Great Konoha Scandal: A Genin Mission of Love and Marriage” (title coined by Boruto, and edited for accuracy by Chouchou – Sarada had been overruled at every step in the naming process).

No, she didn’t want to incidentally push him away, regardless of how much (or more honestly, how little) she’d prepared or what kind of useful answers he may provide. It was a bad idea to even consider this utter idiocy, but at least Sarada realized this before asking any leading questions.

“So how’s… school,” her father said, breaking what must’ve been quite a long silence.

Sarada was getting used to these non-questions. “Boring,” she sighed, partially in exasperation at thinking about school and partly in relief at having decided to avoid the path of most resistance.

“Nothing’s changed then,” he muttered. There were a few beats of silence, then he asked, “How much longer do you have?”

“With the new laws in place? Not long.” She hummed to herself, frowning off into the distance. “Actually, this school year ends in mid-April, and then I just have one more year.”

Her father nodded. “Will next year’s courses be more challenging?”

She shrugged again, hating the casual gesture even as she carried it out. “I’m not sure, it’s different with every teacher. Shino-sensei is moving up with our class, but he hasn’t said anything about what he has planned.”

He nodded again, and they fell into another silence. Sarada inwardly applauded her – no, their ability to carry a somewhat normal conversation as far as they had. Her father wasn’t pushing her to talk, which was nice when considering how most other adults insist on filling every second of her company with idle chatter. She breathed easy, happy with her decision not to ruin this temporary moment of comfortable silence.

“Here’s your tea!”

Auntie Ino had brought out their cups personally, setting Sarada’s gingerly down while letting her father’s drop onto the table a bit more heavily.

“Thank you,” he muttered, glancing between his cup and Auntie Ino’s wide smile suspiciously. “It doesn’t look like it normally does.”

“Oh, really? How strange.”

“…”

“Well I had a few extra health supplements of Sakura’s, so I just went ahead and dumped five in there.”

He sighed, but ultimately pulled the tea towards himself. Sarada sat up a little straighter to see inside the cup. It was slightly off-color, a muddy purplish-brown. Even the lemon slice on the side probably wouldn’t salvage it.

Auntie Ino looked genuinely concerned for a moment. “Wait, you’re actually going to drink it?”

He smirked up at her. “What, do you want to be the one to tell Sakura we wasted five of her supplements?”

A shiver seemed to run up Auntie Ino’s body. “God, you’re right. You’re a hero, taking one for the team like that.”

“You owe me,” he muttered, reluctantly sipping at the teacup. His expression remained unchanged as Sarada and Auntie Ino watched his every move, and when he set back down the small cup he calmly said, “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

They burst out laughing, Sarada having to cover her mouth to muffle the noise, while Auntie Ino just let the whole shop hear her amusement.

“Damn Uchiha, you’re tough stuff these days,” she cackled, crossing her arms. “Makes me hate you a little less.”

“Hn.”

“Alright, well I’ll go bring out your real tea, just gimme a second,” she said offhandedly, patting Sarada on the head as she turned back towards the kitchen.

Her father watched her go warily, not looking away until the kitchen door closed behind her. “She’s usually next door, that’s why I feel safe coming here,” he muttered. “Not anymore.”

“Aw, but it’s nice here,” Sarada commented, grinning widely. “It’s funny how she teases you.”

Her father eyed her, lips tipping up on one side. “Is it? I’m glad there’s some benefit to it then.”

Sarada smiled sweetly, then tapped her teacup. “Want to try some of mine?”

“No thanks, I don’t like lavender.”

“Really?”

“Tastes like soap to me.”

“Your loss then,” she sing-songed, sipping at her drink and loving every moment of it.

This was nice. This was a nice moment. Something felt off.

“Okay, here’s the beverage my paying customer actually asked for,” Auntie Ino announced as she returned to their table. “And I have a pastry for the sweet little audience member to the whole act! Here you go, honey,” she said, setting down a plate with a skewer of strawberry dango in front of her.

“Oooo,” Sarada cooed. “Thank you, Auntie!”

“Sure thing sweetie!” She kissed the top of Sarada’s head again, patting her on the back. “I figured it’d go well with the tea.” She looked up at her father, expression going apologetic. “I don’t think anything we have will go with that.”

“Sugar works,” he responded, reaching for the cream-colored container on the table and pouring a frankly alarming amount in his cup. At the twin looks of bewilderment aimed at him, he explained, “I don’t like sweets, but it’s the only taste that overpowers these supplements.”

“Hey, whatever works,” Auntie Ino shrugged. “So Sarada, how’s school going? Still getting teased?”

“Nah,” Sarada answered, determinedly not looking at her father and instead shoving some dango in her mouth. Damn Auntie Ino and her inability to telepathically know what Sarada doesn’t want to talk about in front of her father. Once she swallowed, she answered, “I punched the kid in the face.”

Auntie Ino burst out laughing again, while her father made a sound like half of a single laugh.

“Really now?”

“Yeah. Boruto had to bandage me up and everything,” she continued. She briefly retold the story of Hiroki coming into her classroom, of the way he’d cocked his fist and how she’d just known he’d go after Boruto, and sure he was an idiot but he was a strong idiot, so she sent him flying across the room.

At the time, she’d simply acted on reflex. Her brain had been complete mush, and afterwards she’d been filled with so much shame and self-loathing, but watching her father’s approving head nod and hearing Auntie Ino’s impressed praise, Sarada felt… good.

This was such a weird day.

“I’m going to head to the restroom,” she said suddenly, pushing back from the table and standing.

“Alright, see you later,” Auntie Ino said, patting her head as she walked by.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Sarada heard her father ask once she was several paces away.

Across the small shop, Sarada turned into the hallway leading to the restrooms. The parlor was so empty that she could still easily hear Auntie Ino’s response.

“I don’t know, habit? Compulsion? I actually did it first when she was still a baby, and Sakura picked it up from me. Anyway, Sarada never complains.”

Sarada closed and locked the door behind her, smiling at the origin of the top-of-head-kisses. But for some reason, her smile only made her feel worse. She stood staring down at the cream tiles for several moments as she processed how she was feeling.

What was wrong with her? This was a good afternoon. Sure, Auntie Ino was being a bit much, but her father seemed used to her borderline abrasive teasing, and it was entertaining to watch. She’d even gotten free dango! She’d impressed her father with a short story about punching Hiroki in the face. Auntie Ino had showered her in enough physical affection to last her the rest of the year.

So what was this feeling in her stomach? Like it was somehow all about to go wrong?

The minute-long reprieve in the bathroom’s still air didn’t do much to calm her nerves, and as Sarada exited the bathroom she paused for a few more moments in the hall. She just needed a few more seconds before turning the corner and picking her way back to the table where her father was sitting, where Auntie Ino would still be standing and chatting away.

Leaning against the wall and counting down from thirty, she overheard a portion of their conversation.

“So Mei told me you came in for some flowers last week.”

“You get nosier every day. Do you know that?”

“Sunflowers, right? I know several people – handsome people – who just love sunflowers–”

“How’s your kid doing? Inojin, right?”

“HAH! That’s as good as a confession!”

“Shut up, or I’ll start going somewhere else for… that kind of stuff.”

“Ahaha, you’d never. Sakura would castrate you.”

Sarada heard the words, but was too distracted with her own swirling emotions to really process them. After all, how could she be so incapable of simply accepting and experiencing happiness? She was having a good day and should be able to let good things happen to her without feeling like the universe was cocking its fist, ready to punch her in the stomach.

She sighed at her unnecessary penchant for cynicism and left the hallway to return to the table. As she walked over, her father gave Auntie Ino a look that stopped her mid-sentence.

“Sarada!” Auntie Ino practically yelled. “That sure was quick!”

She pulled a frown, nose wrinkled in distaste. “Do you really want to talk about my body functions like that, Auntie Ino?”

“Haha, you’re right,” she answered, scratching at the back of her neck and side-eyeing her father for a moment. “Anyway I should get back to the kitchen. Mei’s all alone back there and – well, you’ve met her. Knock on the door later when you’re leaving to say good-bye, okay?”

She then hustled off, moving quickly and ignoring the top of Sarada’s head for once. Her father was looking at her intently, watching her sit down and pull the tea cup back towards herself.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, expression concerned as he studied her.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning her cup on its dainty saucer. “I just feel weird today.”

“Hn.”

A few beats of silence passed, and Sarada decided she didn’t like this one as much as the others. “Do you ever have days like that? Where everything just feels a little bit… off?”

Her father sighed, sipping at the sugary-health concoction. “Everyone does.”

“Really?... Even the Hokage?”

Her father scoffed. “The Hokage is always ‘a little bit off’.”

Sarada smiled, retort on the tip of her tongue regarding her father’s own lack of on-ness. But with the topic of the Hokage introduced, suddenly that conversation regarding “someone who loves sunflowers” returned full-force. It replayed in her mind in the span of an inhale, crashing down and engulfing her mind in swirling, disjointed connections.

The plentiful sunflowers next door, the corner of a cluttered desk, the Hokage’s “secret admirer”. Auntie Ino’s teasing, Mei’s corroborating ramblings, her father’s evasive comments. A look shared between friends, two fragmented marriages –

A flower and a tea tin.

Wait.

In the center of that rushing torrent, for a few moments of unparalleled clarity, Sarada forgot how to breathe.

“You don’t look well. We should go,” her father said with blatant concern, placing down several bills as he quickly stood.

Sarada followed and watched as he nodded to a red-faced Mei, as they both went to the kitchen to bid Auntie Ino farewell, as she bent down to kiss Sarada on top of her head kindly. She smiled widely at her and said she hoped Sarada felt better, and to come by again for some get-well-soon tea.

Her father walked her out the door, looked down at her, then started leading the way home, hand resting on her shoulder for a brief moment. The streets had thinned out since they’d first entered the tea shop. Even though the world was turning in slow motion, Sarada somehow didn’t run into anything along the whole walk back to her doorstep, where her father reluctantly left her as she closed and leaned back against the front door.

After all, how could it all not be connected?

Chapter Text

Today was a rare, perfect day for Boruto Uzumaki.

There were a few things that went perfectly for him. For one, Sarada was uptight all damn day until he made a joke that make her squirt apple juice out of her nose laughing. Sure the joke was at his own expense, but you’d do anything to see Sarada fucking Uchiha laugh so hard she needed a tissue.

Then they got back their exams from last week. Mitsuki would always purposefully fill out bubbles incorrectly, then change them all at the very end, just so Boruto wouldn’t cheat off of him. On the day of the exam Sarada had been especially moody, so she’d guarded her papers like a hawk guarding its eggs. Boruto had been completely on his own, and he’d gotten a B+. A FUCKING B+!

Sarada had been rolling her eyes when she said she’d buy him a celebratory ice cream, but he was totally going to hold her to that. On a day when she didn’t run off right after class, anyway.

He got to pet not one, but two dogs on his walk to pick up Himawari from daycare. They were both fluffy, and perfect.

Himawari was being kind of annoying until Boruto gave her some candy, then she shut up and just held his hand. He didn’t tell anyone, but he always thought it was super cute when she did that. Once day she’d be too old and self-conscious, but for now she was only three, content to eat her lollipop and hold his hand like an adorable little sister should.

And to top it all off, his mom was home when he got back from school! She was there a lot of the time, but most days she’d be at the Hyuuga compound until about an hour before dinner, and that’s how he could tell that today was different.

God, he had such amazing observation skills. He was such an advanced ninja, and totally deserved that B+.

Apparently the old perv was going to grace them with his presence tonight or something, take them out to dinner. Boruto was not especially excited, not one bit. It was just nice to go out to eat, that’s all.

“D’you think we’re getting ramen again?” Himawari asked from her perch on the living room couch, surrounded by crude crayon drawings of parks and animals.

Boruto was eager to list off a few of his guesses, but mom beat him to it. “No, your father said we’d be going somewhere nice,” she said from under the kitchen sink. She was looking for something or other, but Boruto hadn’t really been paying attention.

“Like really really nice?” Himawari asked. She seemed to be chatty today.

“No, but you should probably still wear a dress.”

Boruto huffed, crossing his arms. Himawari wearing a dress meant he’d have to wear a collared shirt.

“And Boruto, you should wear one of your collared shirts. Whichever one you want to wear, bring it to me and I’ll iron it for tonight.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, rolling off his own seat on the couch and reluctantly leaving behind his gaming system. Himawari complained a bit since she’d been drawing a picture of him, but he just ruffled her hair to get her back in a good mood.

He left to get a shirt, stomping up the stairs loudly and slamming his bedroom door – not because he was mad or anything, but just because he could.

He hadn’t been serious earlier when he’d said he wasn’t excited. As much as he hated his old man, he actually didn’t hate his old man. Not anymore, anyway.

Nah, he just felt awkward. He hadn’t talked to mom about what she’d said during their conversation at the Hyuuga compound. It’s not like he felt guilty or anything, and it’s not like he’s mad at Sarada for kind of making him do it. He just hadn’t liked the answer he got.

His parents definitely didn’t love each other, that was for sure. Sure, mom had talked like dad had been falling all over himself to get her, but they never saw each other these days. When you like somebody, and when you love somebody, you make time for them, even when there is none.

No, Sarada running off right after class hadn’t hurt at all. Not one bit.

It had taken him a while to notice, but his dad had been making time for him for a while now. Even Himawari, sometimes.

Boruto’s had lunch in his office about thirty times now. On the few days Boruto has snuck out of school and picked her up early, Himawari joins them for lunch. His dad never comments on how she should be in daycare, but Boruto doesn’t want to push it too much, so he only does it every so often.

Dad’s only ever been happy to see them, even though Boruto sometimes doesn’t show up with a lunch box for them both. Sometimes Sarada side-eyes him on the days when he doesn’t eat his lunch during lunchtime, but she probably knows why he saves it until after school. Sure that means sometimes Akimichi has all damn day to pilfer his damn desserts, but it’s… kind of worth it.

Point is, his parents don’t see each other, and that’s a fact. His mom is always at the Hyuuga compound, taking care of family business or gardening or braiding his younger cousins’ hair – doing whatever it meant to be the head of the family.

And his dad was definitely always in the Hokage Tower. Boruto used to at least see his clones, but ever since his dad got chastised for wasting his chakra by both Lady Tsunade and Mrs. Uchiha, his dad used his clones way less.

But tonight they were all going to be eating together, as a family. Even though he didn’t really know what kind of faces to make around either of his parents, Boruto hoped it’d at least not suck.

Boruto rummaged around in his closet, sifting through piles that had all kind of merged into one big pile. On his quest to find a single clean shirt, he emerged with a bright orange checkered shirt.

His dad would probably tease him, saying he liked the color orange just like him. Ugh.

Boruto nearly tripped he was running down the stairs so fast, but he handed the orange shirt over to his mom.

“This orange one?” She asked, smile kind and polite. She didn’t say anything, but her look was knowing.

He couldn’t keep eye contact for very long these days. “Yeah.”

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about, sweetie?”

God, it’d been embarrassing enough for Akimichi to hear that, but even Sarada knew about that pet name now.

“No,” he bit out, lingering embarrassment making him short.

“Really?”

“No thanks,” he said, sheepish over his earlier shortness.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb back and forth. “You can talk to me about anything.”

“Mm.”

“Okay then.” She patted him twice, then called out softly, “Himawari, let’s go get ready!”

“Yay!” Himawari kicked her feet, dangling them over the edge of the couch as she watched mom walk up to her. “Now Mama?”

“Yes, now.”

They left the room together, and Boruto was left standing in the kitchen, wondering when he began thinking about things like how responsible his mom was or how cute his little sister was.

When it was finally time to go, Boruto snatched up his phone even though his mom was threatening to leave without him. Just in case he got bored or something, he could say someone was calling him and run away. It was an air-tight plan.

Dad was going to meet them at the restaurant, so Boruto led them on the way there. Mom usually walked slow, and Himawari usually held her hand over Boruto’s, so it was his job to part the sea of people that’d be everywhere in the downtown area.

Sure enough, it was dinner time and everyone in the entire village seemed to be going out to eat tonight. It was only a freaking Monday, for shit’s sake.

“Language, Boruto.”

All the adults in his life always said that, but none of them terrified him over it like his mom did.

It took them a little while, but eventually his mom verbally led them to an impressive storefront. There was shiny dark wood and taxidermy (Sarada taught him that word, and she’d be proud to know he remembered it) fish hanging out front, and a deep blue carpet leading inside. It didn’t look like there were too many people inside, which was either good so they’d have more privacy, or bad because this place had crappy food.

“Fancyyy,” Himawari cooed, grabbing Boruto’s sleeve with her free arm. “I like the fish. I like the green one!”

“They’re called taxidermy fish,” Boruto said, voice low as his mom approached the guy at the front of the restaurant that’d lead them to their table. “It means they’re stuffed.”

“Stuffed?”

“Yeah. To keep them pretty.”

“They are pretty,” she said, smiling up at them. “Even though they’re not swimming.”

Boruto was not about to teach Himawari about death, so he was glad she didn’t have too many questions about their vacant eyes or still bodies.

“Let’s go you guys,” their mom said softly, guiding Himawari by the hand and Boruto by the shoulder. “Your dad is already inside, and he’s never before us.”

Himawari grew silent, looking to Boruto like she was asking him something. She was barely good at verbal communication, so the non-verbal stuff was definitely above her skillset. Boruto just cautiously raised his eyebrows, which was apparently enough to make her satisfied.

Mom led them over to an elevator which took them to the third floor. They stepped out into a long hallway with shoji doors and thin paper walls, colored ink paintings winding forward under dim lanterns. The lights inside the rooms cast groups of people in silhouettes, and their happy tones of voice could be heard in the hall even if their words couldn’t. Mom led them to the door at the very end, which slide open on its own to reveal dad standing there, beaming down at them.

“Hello!” He greeted. “Did I surprise you guys with the door?”

Boruto frowned as much as possible. “Not really.”

“Yeah!” Himawari shouted, running forward and jumping into his arms. “Hi Papa!”

“Hellooo,” he sing-songed, twirling her in circles for a bit. “You’re getting so big, Himawari!”

“Boruto measured me the other day and the mark on the wall was higher than before, so yeah I’m big now!” It was impressive how she could still talk when she was practically vibrating with excitement. How she’d stayed so calm earlier, Boruto had no idea.

“Wow, do you know how big?”

“BIG, Papa. BIG.”

“Alright, sounds impressive to me,” he laughed, setting her down reluctantly. He smiled at mom and she smiled back. Boruto didn’t like it.

“Aw, do you feel left out?” He was pulled from the thoughts of the last Saturday, from the scene Sarada called “the placid pond” like some kind of cryptic know-it-all, by his dad lifting him up.

“Put me down you nasty old perv, I’ll fight you!”

“Ahaha, I missed you too!”

Dinner was… nice. The food was delicious, but Boruto still preferred mom’s cooking, and loudly stated as much.

As awkward as Boruto felt studying the ways his parents interacted, Himawari kept things running smoothly. She had interesting tales of adventures in the laundry room, or impressive stories of how the kids at day care all loved her drawings this week. Mom smiled along, throwing in a few details every so often, mostly just when Himawari failed to mention things like that she’d been “lost in the laundry room” for all of five minutes. Dad laughed along, enjoying Himawari’s lively retellings and smiling at mom.

It all felt so real and right, but Boruto knew he was talking less than usual. He was reluctant to move from the outskirts of the conversation, watching all the acts going on around him. He was unwilling to risk entering the fray and potentially disturbing this functional dynamic with his own… awareness.

“So Boruto, how’s school been?”

Yeah, dinner was just that... Nice.

When the waiter knocked on the wood frame of the door and asked if anyone would like dessert, Boruto and Himawari both loudly answered yes. Dad seemed willing to indulge them, and mom didn’t mind staying out a little later.

While Himawari was asking Boruto about what kind of desserts they might have and what kind of portions they might receive, mom said something low to dad.

He nodded and said, “As of four o’clock today! Everything’s finally rescheduled.”

“Oh, for when?”

Boruto completely tuned out Himawari to eavesdrop better.

“The exams will take place in two months – far sooner than anyone in Konoha would like, but it’s definitely doable. It’s the Raikage and Mizukage who really pushed having an earlier date. We have plenty of chunin and jounin already, but they’re sick of having our man-power in their villages. They want to graduate their own forces, y’know?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Of course it is. So the finalized date is June 23^rd.”

“How exciting! When will you all tell the public?”

“We’re giving everyone at the table time to look over the provisions, what they need to contribute to help make this happen sooner rather than later. Shikamaru was thinking–”

“Boruto, are you even listening to me?”

He turned back to Himawari biting down on his lip to suppress his excitement.

The chunin exams! He’d almost forgotten how much of his dad’s job involved rescheduling that beast. Boruto felt juuuust guilty enough about his past actions to really want to prove himself. Not just to the village, but to himself – and his teammates, he supposed.

Oh man, Sarada was going to flip out when she heard! It sounded pretty secretive, but surely it’d be fine for him to tell just one other person, right?

Just then Boruto’s phone started silently vibrating in his pocket. A quick glance told him it was Sarada of all people. Has she ever called him? No, he didn’t think so.

Should he answer? He didn’t like the idea of ignoring her, especially when she never reached out to him first. Plus, the chunin exams!

The waiter returned with dessert, even though mom was reluctant to let them eat so much sugar so close to their bedtime. Luckily, Dad persuaded her against having the dango taken away.

Eh, surely Sarada could wait until he got home. He’d send an apology text and then she’d be pissy until she finally got around to asking him whatever ninjutsu question she probably had.

Today was Boruto’s perfect day, so it’d be fine.

Chapter Text

After being dropped off by her father, Sarada had stayed inside for all of five minutes before feeling itchy with energy. With a quick text to tell her mom saying that she’d spend the night at Chouchou’s, Sarada made her way to her typical training ground. Chouchou eventually responded to her texts, agreeing to the impromptu sleepover. She was tied up at the moment with her parents, so she’d meet her at the training site, which was actually perfect.

Sarada had a lot of things she needed to think through on her own, a lot of events to analyze and process and insert into a larger internal debate. Because if her hunch was correct, if she really could make the argument for… that, then what did that mean?

“Our marriage was a symbol of progress for the village.”

Analysis would have to come later. For now, Sarada needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as she ran out to the training ground, knapsack packed with enough to get her through the night and the following school day.

“Everyone likes the Hokage… Especially me.”

It only took a few minutes for the distant rush of the waterfall to become an overpowering roar, with Sarada realizing that she’d been standing just inches from the water’s edge.

“I’d almost managed to forget that today’s their anniversary.”

Sarada cursed her nearly photographic memory, haunted by offhanded statements and scenes attacking her seemingly at random. Looking up at the torrent of water, Sarada took several large steps back, making the seals for the Uchiha fireball jutsu. By now she could finally make an impressive ball of fire, but she wanted more. She needed more.

Contemplating her options as she reviewed the chakra pathways and hand signs, she decided that she enjoyed the heat, the raw power, the overt connection to fire as an element. She wanted to keep fire-style moves in her repertoire, but also make them her own in some way.

“I meant affairs as in ‘things’! As in ‘stuff,’ as in ‘happenings’! I didn’t mean cheating. I have zero evidence of that! …But now you’ve got me thinking…”

Grunting and slapping a hand across her face, Sarada refocused. Okay, so she wanted a new jutsu. Where could she go from here? She had the capacity for fire-style jutsus up her sleeve, and superhuman strength. Could she maybe combine those things…?

“How’s that coming along by the way? Sasuke said he was very impressed with your progress.”

Of course! Her genjutsu skills were beyond those of her peers simply because of her sharingan, but Sarada had always held an affinity for taijutsu. She’d already been working on the chakra control needed to hone her elemental ninjutsu, so maybe she could mix it with taijutsu somehow? A mix of martial arts and fire would look badass. Boruto was going to be so jealous…

Sarada spent the rest of the afternoon training. She hadn’t noticed when Chouchou called out to her, sitting under a nearby tree to watch when Sarada hadn’t responded. Sarada practiced chakra control, gathering it in her hand to eventually yield a weak flame, then attempted to move around with it, strengthen it, form it into any semblance of a shape.

She barely noticed how the late afternoon sun became a deep orange, colorful streaks of red and yellow dusting the horizon. Chouchou hadn’t made a peep since sitting down, and a quick glance told Sarada she was busy snacking and reading some book. If she didn’t mind waiting, then Sarada would keep going.

By the time it was finally dark, Sarada nearly collapsed in the dirt clearing, caught by Chouchou just before her knees hit the ground.

“Hey there buddy,” she murmured, easily lifting Sarada onto her back. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I also think the Hokage is a smart guy. He probably knows it’s not love, probably even knew about the family wanting him so bad, even if Lady Hinata is only seeing what she wants to see.”

Sarada shrugged, still steadfastly ignoring the voices replaying conversations in her head.

“We should go get dinner somewhere. I’ve been snacking all this time, but I’m starving for real food.”

“Alright,” Sarada finally spoke, voice weak with disuse beyond grunts and expletives muttered while training.

“Great, I know just the place for a good post-training cool-down,” Chouchou smiled back at her. At her tree she bent to stow away her book – a romance novel, apparently – and gather her food wrappers. She offered Sarada an unopened chip bag, but she refused.

Sarada was once again grateful to have a friend like Chouchou. She’d patiently watched over her training without complaining once, and prevented her from working to extreme exhaustion. Sarada collapsing the first time should always be the end point of her training regimen, but that had regrettably not always been the case.

They moved into the village in silence, Sarada hugging Chouchou around her shoulders and Chouchou humming something out of tune. Sarada resisted the urge to play with her pigtails, but only just. Watching the buildings going by, Sarada sighed into her friend’s shoulder. She knew where they were going.

“Ah, your father?” The Hokage stopped to think, then a warm smile spread across his face.

They approached Ichiraku still in silence, allowing them to hear the bustling atmosphere of the traditional-style ramen restaurant. Back when her parents were kids, the place was nothing more than a high-top counter and however many stools they happened to have unbroken by ninja clientele that week. After Konoha was rebuilt, the Hokage took a personal interest in the establishment’s survival, granting them a prime piece of riverside real estate downtown. The place was now a large room with three intricately muraled walls. The floor seating was easily maneuverable to handle groups of any size, while a counter top spanning the entire back would-be wall faced a series of low arches that brought fresh air into the establishment, allowing customers to overlook the man-made river and surrounding gardens while they ate ramen.

Brushing aside the noren for Chouchou, Sarada helped greet the hostess with a smile as Chouchou asked for outdoor seating. The woman barely raised an eyebrow at Sarada’s sorry state of appearance. Although Ichiraku had been aesthetically revamped, it was still a casual establishment, welcoming in ninjas about to leave on a mission and those who still had mud from the forest staining their standard-issue sandals. Or these days, mostly business people and families looking for a quick, cheap meal.

The hostess led them through another noren and onto the back patio, leaving them at a low table.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly to take your order,” she said demurely, bowing slightly before taking her leave. Sarada couldn’t imagine a time when this place was a single countertop.

“So what’s with the manic training, hah?” Chouchou asked, bypassing pleasantries as she lowered Sarada onto a floor seat that thankfully had a back on it.

“I needed to think – or well, not think,” Sarada answered wearily, rubbing at her eyes under her glasses. “I’m making all these connections I don’t want to make, and I think I’m unearthing something pretty… scandalous.”

“You father and the Hokage used to be roommates. Well, unofficial roommates. They had their own places, but... Yeah. Anyway, they’ve always been close, you know?”

“Ooo, like what? Is it about our secret mission?”

Just then their waitress came, setting down a small complimentary tea pot, cups, and glasses of water, and leaving with their usual orders.

“So spill,” Chouchou said once the woman’s long hair disappeared inside. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you everything I’m thinking,” Sarada muttered, pouring them green tea with heavy arms. “I’m going to tell you what I learned today, and see what kind of conclusions you draw.”

“Alright,” Chouchou agreed, nodding in thanks as she received her full cup.

Sarada relayed what had happened at Auntie Ino’s teashop just that afternoon. She explained the amusing teasing first as an excuse to laugh,  then detailed the nauseous feeling she’d had ever since her father showed up, the trepidation she couldn’t shake that something was going to happen. Then when she got to the overheard conversation, she retold it word-for-word, watching Chouchou’s face remain stoic all the while.

“So Mei told me you came in for some flowers last week… Sunflowers, right? I know several people – handsome people – who just love sunflowers…”

When she finished, Sarada sat back in her chair and sipped at her tea. It needed lemon.

“So what you’re saying,” Chouchou hesitantly concluded, “Is that your dad… bought the Hokage those sunflowers – one of which is sitting in a vase in your room as we speak?”

“Yes,” Sarada nodded. “What does that mean to you?”

“I mean… more scandalous things have happened.”

“Ah… A secret admirer left them for me. Isn’t that nice?”

“He’d have no reason to lie about a gift from my mom.”

He stepped up to the Hokage’s desk and bent down to retrieve something. The Hokage still hadn’t said anything, but was instead glancing between Sarada and her father… anxiously? When her father stood back up, he locked eyes with the Hokage once more, this time holding his gaze for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. Sarada coughed into her fist, regaining their attention. Had they forgotten that Boruto and she were even here?

“But remember, the Hokage wasn’t up front about who they were from,” she explained, condensing her recollections into a more logical format. “If they’d been an innocent gift between friends, wouldn’t he have jumped at the chance to say they were from my father, and then find a way to tease him about it? But no, instead my dad shows up, they exchange all these weird looks, and neither of them mentions the flowers at all. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

Chouchou finally looked suspicious, narrowing her eyes at Sarada. “Wait, what exactly are you implying?”

“When you love someone, every day is special. Not just one day a year.”

“I’m saying that my father… he may not love my mom, but he once spoke as if he intimately understood what it means to be in love.”

Chouchou stared at her across the table, jaw nearly on the floor. The waitress came and went with their food, and still Chouchou was speechless, motionless. Just when Sarada was starting to worry, Chouchou shook her head, snapping out of it.

“I’m going to the bathroom before we eat,” she muttered, standing up. “I just realized I haven’t peed in hours.”

Sarada nodded even though her back was already turned. Her throat had closed up at the obvious refusal to admit what Sarada was implying.

Breaths coming faster, Sarada set down her tea and gripped the table in front of her. Chouchou didn’t believe her, probably thought she was crazy for getting so worked up over gifted flowers and looks. She needed someone who’d understand, someone who’d make her feel sane for two seconds before Chouchou returned.

Fishing her phone out of her knapsack, she ignored the goodnight texts from her mom in favor of punching in a familiar number, not up for scrolling through her contacts. It rang, once, twice three times. Seven times, eight times. Eleven, twelve –

“Hey, this is Boruto Uzumaki! If you’re hearing this, then obviously I’m doing more important stuff than answering your call, so just leave a message I guess. If I care, I’ll call you back. If not… whatever.” A pause, then a long beeeep sounded out.

“Hi – hi there Boruto,” she stammered, fiddling with her bangs. “Haha, I don’t think I’ve ever left you a voicemail before. Well, I guess you’re–” Her throat threatened to close up again, but she coughed into her fist to clear it. “I guess you’re busy. Don’t worry about calling back, I just thought… eh, it’s nothing. Alright – oh, this is Sarada, by the way. Uchiha. Okay… bye.”

She hung up, dropping the phone on the table and glaring at it. God, she hated leaving messages. She should’ve just hung up and sent him a text.

After a few idle sips of her tea, Chouchou finally emerged from the main building. She sat down across from Sarada, all the while staring at her full, steaming bowl of pork and shrimp ramen.

Unprompted, she murmured, “I think you’re onto something.”

Sarada sighed loudly, nearly falling back in her seat. “Oh thank god, I thought I was crazy!”

“Oh, you’re crazy,” Chouchou smirked. “But not because of this.”

Sarada laughed nervously, pushing her bangs back and out of her face. “I really don’t know what to make of all this. I’ve been replaying all these – these comments in my head all damn day, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think my brain is trying to see if there was any way I could have seen this coming. I mean…” Sarada split her chopsticks idly, staring down at the food she needed to eat in order to continue functioning optimally. “Do actually you think they might be… together?”

“Like a couple?”

Sarada nodded, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Imagining her father in anything referred to as a couple was off-putting, to say the least. And the Hokage… well he should be above anything as pedestrian as a couple. Husband and father, sure, but a lover? She shuddered at the thought of the Hokage being sappy with anyone, even his own wife – let alone her father.

She nearly slapped herself for the second time that day. “I mean, they’re close friends, right? Best friends. I’ve heard people talk about profound bonds before, but I have no idea if they can be… nonplatonic.”

Chouchou shrugged, mouth full of noodles and pork. She said something that Sarada roughly translated to, “I don’t see why not.”

“Well, it’s just… two men? Does that… does that happen?”

Chouchou shrugged again.

“And the Hokage, no less…” Sarada muttered to herself. Figuring she may as well eat what she’d pay for, Sarada slurped up three noodles. The broth was rich from pork bone, but Sarada wasn’t in the proper state of mind to appreciate truly good food.

They ate in companionable silence, Sarada lowly speaking to herself in what Chouchou probably thought was complete gibberish. When the waitress eventually came back with their bill, Chouchou refused Sarada’s cash, opting to pay for them both.

“Oh… thank you.”

“No need for thanks. You barely ate half your bowl, and I’m going to need a midnight snack.”

Walking back to the Akimichi’s compound, Chouchou gasped to herself. “Shit, what’re we going to tell Boruto?”

Sarada stopped in her tracks, glaring at her friend. “What do you mean? We’re not telling him anything.”

“But shouldn’t we, I don’t know, at least tell him about what your Auntie said?”

She shook her head, hand tightening on her knapsack strap. “It’s my fault he’s even involved as much as he is. I kind of did it without thinking, and I can’t take it back now… I barely grew up knowing my father, so I think I have enough distance to not completely freak out. But Boruto… he respects the Hokage even if he doesn’t admit it, and he practically idolizes my father.” She met Chouchou’s gaze straight on to emphasize her resolve. “We don’t need to involve him with conjecture, not until it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Chouchou shrugged, unwilling to argue the point. “Are we still proceeding with the mission? The next phase is you speaking with the Hokage.”

Sarada nodded, steeling her resolve. This Thursday, she’d speak with the Hokage. After today, she may have to prepare a few extra questions.

“On some level, we all see what we want to see.”

Chapter Text

She started every day by waking up, brushing her teeth, and looking in the mirror. And every day, she loved what she saw.

“The boys are gonna fall all over themselves for you today, hot stuff,” Chouchou affirmed to her reflection, giving that smokin’ hot babe a thumbs-up because she damn well deserved it. “They won’t even know what hit ‘em.”

“Chouchou, have you seen my glasses?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Do I look like I know where you put your crap, Uchiha?”

Chouchou heard her friend mutter something about Chouchou not being a morning person from the next room and snickered to herself. Teasing Sarada was always fun, especially since they rarely took one another seriously.

When she exited the bathroom, she was proven right – as usual. Sarada was smiling good-humoredly up at her from her position crouched next to and rummaging around underneath her bed.

“Good morning, ‘hot stuff,’” she greeted, giving just as good as she got.

“You’re just jealous.”

After eating a breakfast that really could’ve lasted longer and unsuccessfully begging her mom for spending money, Chouchou and Sarada left the Akimichi compound. Since Sarada was the bossy one, they’d left a full thirty minutes before Chouchou normally would’ve, which was the only reason they ran into Inojin at the end of the street.

“Good morning Chouchou, Uchiha,” he said, nodding at them both. God, what a weirdo. How could he be friendly this early?

“Hey there Inojin,” Chouchou sighed, waving. “I hate getting up this early, so don’t talk to me.”

Sarada smiled at Inojin, the traitor. “Oh, stuff it,” she muttered to Chouchou once his back was turned.

“I would’ve, but because of you breakfast was cut short.”

Sarada sighed, then slipped something into Chouchou’s hand. It was a cute little hard candy with a striped wrapper.

“Uchiha, I think I’m in love with you,” she whispered, already unwrapping the candy. “Boruto will just have to deal with it, he can never match what we have.”

Sarada just raised her eyebrow at her and kept walking, ignoring her wise words. What a blind idiot.

If Chouchou had a guy tripping all over himself for her like that, she’d damn well notice and milk it for all it was worth. But Sarada wasn’t like that. She was nearly self-focused to a fault, over sensitive and therefore overly protective of her feelings. And really, Chouchou could understand that. Plus ew, Boruto.

Despite her high IQ, Sarada was dense as a brick sometimes, plain and simple.

“How’s Auntie doing?” Inojin asked Sarada, ignoring Chouchou altogether.

“She’s fine. Busy, you know?” Sarada had a lot of practice humoring stupid boys.

The two of them chatted superficially as they made their way through town. Usually Chouchou would be the one talking to Inojin, since they both enjoyed gossiping and had blunt ways of speaking that were more often than not off-putting to other people. But he wisely knew to avoid talking to Chouchou this early in the day. Last time he dared speak to her before 8, she nearly bit his finger off. She wasn’t even hungry, just wanted to see if she could.

Some tea and coffee shops had lines of customers already spilling out into the street, forcing them to walk in the center to continue forward. Nearby stores and cafes were only just flipping their signs to “OPEN”, taking their sweet time and waving at them as they walked past. And then there were the bakeries, their pastry chefs tempting Chouchou with delicious chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon smells. They were nearly at the intersection of fifth and twelfth, which gave her an idea.

“Hey, let’s take a shortcut,” she said, grabbing Sarada’s knapsack without warning and tugging her a bit towards a side street.

“Shortcut?” Sarada looked skeptical, which wasn’t entirely fair. Chouchou was totally the type of person that could have secret shortcuts.

She tried to turn up the charm, winking as she said, “Just trust me.” Turning to Inojin, she stated gravely, “You in?”

He shrugged. “Eh, why not.”

Sarada still looked wary, but ultimately followed her lead. Inojin trailed after them, commenting that if Chouchou made them late he’d rat her out to Shino-sensei.

Three turns and one alley cat later, they were spat back out on a bustling side street dotted with cafes. The most important one was next to a flower shop.

“Chouchou, come on,” Sarada groaned, stomping her foot a bit when she saw where they were. “We’re going to be late, now’s not the time for sweets!”

Inojin sighed and cursed under his breath at the sight of his mom setting out barrels of flowers along the curb. She always made a huge fuss when he was seen with friends. How he hadn’t noticed Chouchou taking them here, she had no idea.

“Auntie Ino,” Chouchou shouted out, grinning at her companion’s annoyed expressions. “Give me pastries!”

Auntie Ino spun around, beaming at the sight of them! “Oh, my heart! You’re all so cute together!”

Chouchou humored her fussing and chattering, raising an eyebrow at Sarada when she was asked about her health. Inojin frowned down at the ground when his mom lovingly ruffled his hair, which Chouchou may or may not have taken a picture of for potential future blackmail purposes.

All of their pain was worth it when Auntie Ino slipped into her café and gave them each a tasty treat. Score.

“Score,” Chouchou sighed, halfway down the street and crumbs all that remained to hint at the chocolate tart’s short but valuable life.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sarada said, smiling and handing over her half-finished dango stick. Chouchou nearly wept with gratitude.

Arriving at school after a blissful, comfortably silent walk, Chouchou waved goodbye to Inojin as he continued walking to their row in the back of the classroom. Instead of following him she dropped into Boruto’s empty seat, where she’d stay until the little man pried the chair out of her cold dead hands.

Watching Sarada unpack her three notebooks, two textbooks, calculator, two mechanical pencils, pink eraser, sticky notes, and multicolored highlighter pen, Chouchou silently felt bad for Boruto. How could anyone sit next to this kind of crazy every day and still get a crush like that?

“Do you want to help me decorate my planner?” Sarada asked, turning her wide eyes and button nose on Chouchou. “I have gold stickers if you want to decorate a few borders?”

Eh, she could understand. Sarada’s brand of crazy studiousness was endearing in a very specific kind of way.

It was funny to think about their tentative amateur mission group. The three of them hadn’t always been on speaking terms, largely because Sarada didn’t speak their entire first year of school. On that first day Sarada had claimed a front row seat all on her own, making their classmates basically faint with shock – what weirdo actually wanted to sit in the front row? Boruto had been placed behind her because he was a problem student and needed to be near the front, but Chouchou barely spared either of them a passing thought, as she was perfectly happy talking with Inojin and Shikadai in their back corner.

In fact, Sarada and Boruto had even ignored each other for the first couple of years. But in their third year their class was transferred to Shino-sensei, who insisted on everyone working on group assignments with people outside of their typical circles. Once Sarada and Boruto had been paired up for a demonstration, and they’d never been the same. He started kicking her seat during class, throwing bits of paper at the back of her head, anything to get her to punch a hole through his desk like she’d accidentally done during their presentation. All the while, Sarada had stayed silent, unwilling to rise to the bait even at that young age.

One afternoon during lunch, Chouchou got up to go to the bathroom just as Boruto shouted something loudly and threw bits of broken crayon at Sarada. Nearing the doorway Chouchou had glanced to the side to get a better look at the action. Boruto was apparently angry about having broken his own crayon because his friend had shoved his arm, and Sarada… she looked absolutely miserable. Without shedding a single tear, she managed to break Chouchou’s young, still tender heart in two.

“Hey ass,” Chouchou had said, ignoring the nearby ooo’s of her classmates at her badass profanity. She’d stepped up to Sarada’s desk and put a protective hand on her head, standing as tall and wide, and therefore intimidating, as she could. “Stop being mean to Uchiha.”

“I’m not being mean,” he’d complained, smirking and glaring at them both even though Sarada wasn’t even looking back at him. “It’s not my fault she’s blocking the trashcan.”

Chouchou had pointedly looked at the trashcan next to the doorway, some twenty feet to the right.

Confused, she’d looked at Boruto with mock pity. “Is your aim really that bad?”

“What? No, I was being cool – like, I don’t even care that the trashcan is–”

Chouchou had laughed at that. “Why would it be cool to suck at something?”

That got even Sarada to laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth to hide the sound. She’d looked up at Chouchou with amused gratitude, such an adorable sight that even today Chouchou is convinced they became best friends in that very moment.

Genuinely angry, Chouchou had glared at Boruto until he’d snapped his excuses-making mouth shut. “How dare you torture the cutest person I’ve ever seen.” There was more laughter nearby, but she’d been entirely serious. “Apologize,” she demanded, staring him down.

It had been hilarious watching Boruto get heckled by their classmates, his entire face a blaringly bright red. After a few moments of stubborn pride, he muttered something to his feet.

“Speak up little man, she can’t hear you.” The birth of a nickname, in all its condescending glory.

“I’m sorry, I guess,” he’d muttered, glancing between Sarada and Chouchou nervously.

The nearby laughter only grew louder, people enjoying the son of the Hokage getting told off by the chubby Akimichi girl, of all people. He’d shoved his seat back from his desk and petulantly stomped down the steps to leave their classroom. Chouchou had moved her protective hand to Sarada’s shoulder, refusing to move out of Boruto’s way and forcing him to go around her, which made their classmates laugh even louder.

He narrowed his eyes at Chouchou and Sarada as he’d left, face doing something funny at Sarada’s look of surprise. He’s slammed the door loudly behind him – well, as loudly as an eight-year old could.

Chouchou had sat in Boruto’s empty seat so she could chat with Sarada for the rest of lunch. At first Sarada was nervous, classmates still glancing their way after that whole spectacle. She seemed almost star-struck at having Chouchou’s sudden undivided attention, but as they talked Sarada started teasing her back, even daring to ask where she’d learned that very adult and very inappropriate but cool curse word. Chouchou loved her even more.

When Boruto came back from wherever he’d gone, he’d glared at her. “Get out of my seat, Akimichi.”

Chouchou had shrugged, uninterested in starting another fight. She smiled down at Sarada, who was still facing away from Boruto. “You’re my favorite. We’re gonna be the most awesome friends this school has ever seen.”

Sarada had laughed and nodded, shoving her unruly bangs out of her face. “I’d like that.”

Chouchou could still remember how thunderous Boruto’s face had turned at that. As she’d walked away, triumphant in her victory and excited to have a female best friend, she’d thought about how Boruto had been giving Sarada crap for almost an entire year. If Shikadai was to be believed, it was because he wanted her attention, because apparently that’s what boys do when they’re stupid and emotionally incompetent.

But even at that age, she could easily see how jealous Boruto had been because here was Chouchou, earning Sarada’s friendship in a single lunch period like it was the easiest thing in the world – and honestly, with Uchiha, it really was. Now that the role of best friend was taken, Boruto would just have to settle for whatever Sarada had leftover.

Apparently confident with the support of a new friend, Chouchou had heard Sarada mutter, “Apology accepted – this time.”

“I offered you these stickers like ten minutes ago,” Sarada said, yanking Chouchou out of her nostalgia with a light shove to her arm. The classroom had started filling up by now, classmates greeting one another and chatting happily despite the inhumanely early hour. “I’ve let you grumpily stare at me all this time, so the least you could do is say ‘no thanks.’”

“Fuck that.” Chouchou grinned, swiping the stickers off Sarada’s desk. “There are gonna be so many gold stars in your week that you’re not gonna have any room to write.”

In the ensuing chaos Chouchou sadistically enjoyed how Sarada screeched, “Not too many, not too many!” while trying to protect her planner. In all the fuss she’d even managed to stick a gold star on Sarada’s forehead. Their classmates laughed at Chouchou torturing Sarada, which just made Chouchou laugh even more.

Boruto showed up a full five minutes before class started, looking excited about something until he saw Chouchou. “What’re you doing here so early?” It was a fair statement, as Chouchou and Boruto usually competed to see who could show up the latest without actually missing class. Coming to class with five minutes to spare was pretty impressive considering his track record.

Boruto started to say something else but fell silent, eyes locked on Sarada’s forehead. Chouchou made a shushing motion with her hands and he nodded solemnly.

She’d never felt closer to him, so naturally she had to ruin it as soon as possible. “Sarada spent the night at my place, and she kicks in her sleep.”

“Shut up, stop saying that! People are going to actually believe you…”

“My bruised calves say otherwise, sweet cheeks.”

Boruto frowned at the floor, probably annoyed at not having his seat back yet and definitely, obviously jealous of Chouchou. “Why’d you stay at her place on a school night?”

Chouchou and Sarada locked eyes, reaffirming their resolve not to tell Boruto about the new developments. Sarada started saying something about her training going late, and oh by the way she was making her own fighting style, which quickly caught Boruto’s interest and pulled it in a completely different direction.

Honestly, Sarada’s conclusions last night had been more than a bit insane. Thinking that the Hokage and his top aid were having some kind of long-term affair was… well, it was stupid, and crazy, and more than a bit scandalous, which thankfully at least made it passably interesting. Chouchou was lucky that she barely cared about these guys, otherwise she might be a bit more shocked like Sarada had been, training through her emotions until she was too exhausted to react anymore.

After Sarada had explained herself over dinner, Chouchou’s immediate reaction had been to wave her off, call her crazy and say she was just looking for a reason to hate her father for real this time. She barely had any evidence to go one, just a few incoherent ramblings and something about flowers maybe? But really, even for Chouchou speaking her mind would’ve been over the line considering Sarada’s fragile state.

So she’d stepped away to get her thoughts in order and lied about needing the bathroom – she’d gone in the woods earlier like every other kunoichi that’d come before her. When she heard Sarada leave Boruto a voicemail… god, she must’ve been so desperate.

Despite how crazy she’d sounded, Chouchou was hesitant to write off her best friend completely. Sarada had this impressive ability to make leaps in logic that normal ninjas never would, never even could. She’d never knowingly steered anyone wrong before, and had a much better reason to bury her head in the sand than Chouchou did. So she’d got over herself and gone back out there, choosing to believe in her friend rather than the words she was saying. After all, as much as people loved to say Chouchou didn’t have any tact, even she could tell when an important friend needed support over blunt honesty.

Watching Sarada skate around what she thought was the truth and excuse away her voicemail, Chouchou wondered if maybe she was actually right. She didn’t particularly love or hate the Hokage or Sasuke Uchiha, but she definitely hated anyone who upset Sarada. Whenever Sarada finally processed all of this, if she was even the slightest bit upset, Chouchou would make sure heads fucking rolled.

Eventually class started and Chouchou was forced to watch from the back as Boruto passed note after note to Sarada, relentlessly annoying her all day until lunch. When Boruto went off to do something undoubtedly immature with Mitsuki and Shikadai, Sarada had waved her over and excitedly told her about the newly rescheduled chunin exams. Oh man, Sarada was going to kick so much ass with her new fireball jutsu.

The three of them briefly met up again after school just before Sarada, Boruto, and Mitsuki had to go off on a D-rank mission. Mitsuki was staring at them from across the schoolyard like a total creep, so they had to talk fast. They established a few questions for Sarada to ask the Hokage, then decided on a meeting place to review whatever happened.

Chouchou watched the two of them walk off with Mitsuki, Konohamaru-sensei waiting for them just inside the school gates. Boruto said something to make Sarada punch his arm, which seemed to calm Mitsuki’s ruffled feathers. He pointed at Sarada’s forehead and said something, making Boruto and Konohamaru-sensei laugh and Sarada punch Boruto again before rubbing her hand over her forehead.

Sarada might be going in totally alone, but they’d be waiting for her nearby. That’s what friends did.

Chapter Text

Thursday morning dawned bright and early. Shopkeepers opened their doors, roosters were calling, the first business man of the day was happily stepping out his front door after a breakfast with his family. Naruto found a small amount of happiness in imagining these idyllic images, but could only spare them a passing thought, as the knee-deep piles of paperwork was occupying most of his mental faculties. In fact, the only reason he took note of the dawn was because he was eager to turn down his office’s artificial lighting.

Others would’ve complained about the month Naruto had been having. Sure it’d been his marriage anniversary the other day, the mounds of paperwork clogging his office were slowly morphing into mountains that would spill out into the hallway at any moment, and some days he didn’t even have five minutes for a leisurely crap. Despite what Shikamaru kept saying, he could be complaining a whole lot more.

Thankfully, this month had also been filled with little victories. The village was prospering economically, with reserve units returning home from outlying villages and the Lands of Lightning and Water, helping morale. Pretty soon they’d be able to withdraw entirely from border skirmishes, enlisting Anbu to address their problems more precisely. He and the other Kage finally agreed on a make-up date for last year’s chunin exams. Conceding on Konoha’s ideal date four months away was worth it just to see the Raikage’s shocked (hah) face.

He’d managed to see both his kids for once, even got to enjoy Hinata’s company for a bit. Even though she hadn’t been by yet this week, Sarada Uchiha was a pure ray of sunshine in otherwise dull days. And then there was Sasuke, who was sticking around the village longer than usual for reasons he still wouldn’t properly explain, no matter how much Naruto pressed him. If he was honest, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have Sasuke around all the time. He was obviously happy to have him here, but some days he felt even more isolated cooped up in the Hokage Tower, with Sasuke close but inaccessible.

Chest aching slightly, Naruto scooted back from his desk, ignoring his paperwork summit on his way out of his office. His thoughts had carried him through to the late morning, early afternoon, but screw work, surely he could take one afternoon off and have the village not fall apart.

Four steps into the hallway to check on his shadow (haha), Shikamaru was rounding the corner as if alerted to Naruto’s impromptu plan.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Challenge was written all over him, from his crossed arms to his narrowed eyes.

“I need to go out, Shikamaru!” He’d meant to be more professional than dramatic, but the words were tumbling out all on their own, honest. “I’m going stir-crazy! I haven’t breathed fresh air since yesterday! I barely even know what season it is right now!”

Used to his theatrics by now, Shikamaru was unfazed. He sighed, then muttered, “Handling your dramatic breakdown isn’t anywhere in my job description, I’ve checked.”

“Come on, I’ll be back in an hour, tops!”

He was very unimpressed with his masterful negotiating skills. “No.”

Naruto groaned, turning back to his office door. “When I signed up to be Hokage, I didn’t realize I was going to be a prisoner,” he grumbled, already mentally transitioning to where he’d left off. Ah that’s right, land zoning requisition forms for a new park, something about diverting water pipelines to a proposed retention–

“One hour,” Shikamaru called out. Naruto whipped his head back around in disbelief, but he was already walking away.

“Wait, really?”

“…”

“Really really?”

“Just go before I change my mind,” he called out, waving in Naruto’s vague direction without looking.

“YES!” Naruto may be getting old, but even he wasn’t above excitedly jumping in place.

He chose to ignore Shikamaru’s “Say hi to Sasuke for me,” in the interest of time.

Naruto wasn’t about to go traipsing through the Hokage Tower lobby and onto the street like some kind of idiot. He wouldn’t even make it halfway to Sasuke before his hour would be up. He’d have to resort to jumping across rooftops like some energetic genin and pray to god no familiar faces saw him.

Stepping up to one of his office’s windows and opening it wide (he usually kept them closed to avoid temptation), Naruto took a moment to breathe in deeply. He listened to the sounds of his village and exhaled, smiling to himself. He really did love being the Hokage, especially when the laughter of children was a near constant in the soundtrack of the city. He stepped out on the ledge and took it all in, the warm sunlight and sleepy springtime air – ah, so that’s what season it was – then got back to business. Or well, non-business.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, focusing on Sasuke’s chakra. Even though it was suppressed, Naruto could spot that energy signature anywhere. It only took two seconds to sense it in the direction of the old Uchiha compound. He sighed fondly at his partner’s predictability, only to be momentarily sidetracked by a somewhat similar chakra signature nearby.

Looking down and squinting a bit, he saw Sarada walking up to the Hokage Tower, followed by his son and the Akimichi girl. His was too high up to see what was going on, but he watched them pause outside the building, Sarada eventually walking in by herself.

Oh shit, was she coming to visit him?

He had to make a decision, fast. If Sarada was coming up to his office, then it was probably to help with paperwork, which only reinforced his belief that she was a literal angel. He could stay, bond a bit with Sarada, and get some more work done like a responsible adult. But Shikamaru was so temperamental when it came to allowing Naruto some time off. If he didn’t leave now, he probably wouldn’t get another unscheduled break until… god, probably not until he transferred power to the next Hokage.

Jumping back into his office, Naruto scribbled a quick note, shoved it in an envelope, addressed it to Sarada, and shoved it under his closed office door. By now he could hear footsteps approaching – he was a terrible person for doing this, he really was.

With a mental shrug Naruto leapt out of his office, rolling into a landing several stories below on a nearby apartment building’s rooftop. Sending his apology off into the universe to hopefully reach Sarada, Naruto veered right and went on his way. Hopefully the explanatory note would be enough.

The closer he got to Sasuke’s chakra signature, the less guilty he felt, until eventually he was back to smiling at the prospect of seeing his favorite person. With Sasuke staying in the village more they got to see each other nearly every day. Naruto felt as if he was being spoiled by all this sudden attention, but thankfully Sasuke seemed to enjoy indulging him. He’d never been the most expressive person, but Naruto easily noticed his fond looks and small smiles after all this time.

The old Uchiha complex had been officially converted nine years ago, a nondescript statue and small plaque the only reminder of the clan that once was. Nearly all the old, haunted buildings had been knocked down, replaced with pure things that Sasuke had been not-so-surprisingly adamant about: day care centers, a new orphanage, and a wide park with a playset for small children. Past the renovated area was a more authentic Uchiha experience, some old buildings and the main temple remaining. Out here was where Sasuke spent his free time.

Moving fast, Naruto passed the gates to Sasuke’s old home, left standing at Sasuke’s request despite wanting the walls of the property and the building itself torn down. Even though he’d been the one to propose and sign off on the new plans, it had taken ten months for Sasuke to return to Konoha after being sent out on a two month mission. When he returned, he’d walked passed the gate as if it wasn’t even there.

Beyond the remains of Sasuke’s family home was an extensive wooded area where he and Itachi used to train. Even further beyond that were sparse clearings and impressive trees, deer and birds livening up the area until it felt as if you weren’t inside the village at all. Out here, away from all the city lights and bustling streets, it felt as if a little bit of the old Konoha had survived into this modern age.

Finally slowing down, Naruto broke free of the tree line to find a wide cliff facing another, split in two by a deep trench with a river flowing several hundred feet below. The distant crash of rushing water wasn’t enough to drown out the bird calls and rustling leaves, the area made all the more peaceful because of the soft sounds working together to drown out any city sounds that may drift out here.

Sasuke often came here to meditate, closing his eyes to the world and enjoying his solitude like usual. It was no different today, so Naruto approached with light footsteps, eyes scanning his seated form, back straight and head tipped up towards the sky. You couldn’t tell by looking at him, but Sasuke enjoyed sitting in the direct sunlight – only when people couldn’t see him, otherwise he’d stand in the shade like a mysterious, overdramatic asshole.

Naruto quietly sat down next to him, reluctant to disturb his peace. Surely he’d already sensed him coming? If he’d truly objected to Naruto’s presence, he would’ve said something by now.

Sasuke peeked over at him for a moment, glaring, then went back to his meditative posture, eyes closed once more. What a jerk.

“What are you doing out in the real world?” Sasuke’s voice was teasing but low, as if he too didn’t want to disturb the sounds of the forest.

“I begged Shikamaru for a break,” he sighed, falling back in the grass. “I have about fifty minutes left until I have to be back in my office, filling out zoning forms.”

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Do you want it?”

Sasuke always offered, but his answer remained unchanged. “…No.”

Sasuke hummed in thought, probably remembering the very first time he’d tried to “help” with paperwork. Shikamaru had yelled at them for thirty straight minutes while they reprinted the ruined forms. Their jounin days sure had been fun. “Then don’t complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining,” he pouted, the epitome of maturity. “I’m just sayin’, I have a short break, so I thought I’d come find you, asshole.”

Sasuke breathed deeply once, twice, then turned to Naruto. He watched him yawn in silence, lips barely tilted in a smile. If Naruto hadn’t known the bastard so well, he’d probably have missed the fond exasperation in his eye.

“It is nice to see you somewhere that isn’t the Hokage Tower.”

“Grass feels so nice…” He muttered, eyelids drooping despite his initial plan to chat.

Sasuke shifted his weight a bit. “Do you want to take a nap? I can wake you up.”

He was tempted to protest, but then he yawned again. “Sure, thanks.”

Shifting again, Sasuke moved until his knee was pressed against Naruto’s leg. He raised an eyebrow in question, tempted to tease Sasuke. He knew how much Naruto craved physical affection, but always managed to do so in a very withholding, Uchiha way. It was a compromise that Sasuke had been making more and more these days.

Naruto was a few blissful moments away from passing out when Sasuke spoke. “I’ve been speaking with Shikamaru.”

“What happened to my nap, hah?” Naruto half-joked, sitting back up. The stiff line of Sasuke’s back had Naruto sensing this would be one of those talks.

“He and I are both… concerned.”

He didn’t like that tone. He furrowed his brow, trying to see what kind of face Sasuke was making, but the bastard had his face turned away. “About what?”

“You.”

Wow, what a shocker. “Shikamaru is a slave-driver, he’s not worried.”

Sasuke sighed, then turned to look at him, eyes skimming over his face. His concerned look deepened at whatever he saw. “You’re exhausted.”

“Well sure, but it’s not like–”

“Constantly.”

“Just because I love what I do doesn’t mean–”

“But you don’t, do you?” Sasuke muttered, somehow derailing Naruto’s argument with his low, matter-of-fact tone. “At least not all of it.”

He felt as if he should be annoyed at what Sasuke was implying, but two-thirds of Naruto’s brain was still longing for his missed nap. “No one ever loves their entire job, right?”

Sasuke’s frown deepened even further. “Being Hokage is a job, but for you – for both of us, it’s always been something more.”

He couldn’t respond to that. He couldn’t adequately explain that he recognized the legitimacy of their shared struggle, but couldn’t seem to muster up the energy on a daily basis. All he knew was that he was so tired.

Naruto loved being Hokage, adored the people of Konoha and working tirelessly for their safety and prosperity. But at the same time, he resented them for chaining him to the Hokage Tower. He has no time to see his loved ones, no time to relax by himself, no time to visit with Sasuke when he’s finally in the village for a long time. Naruto was growing skinnier at having not properly trained in months – years, if he’s honest. He was weaker despite Kurama’s chakra, and no doubt Sasuke had noticed, especially after the fight during the botched chunin exams.

Naruto sighed, running a hand through his hair. Without him saying anything at all, Sasuke looked as if he’d followed every one of Naruto’s thoughts. Somehow, that made him feel even worse.

“So what did Shikamaru have to say?” He deflected, picking at some grass nearby and tearing it into strips. “Does he also think I’m a tired, incompetent old man?”

“That’s not it,” Sasuke huffed, leaning forward a bit to catch Naruto’s eye. “You know that.”

“What’d he say?”

“…He wants to delegate more of your responsibilities. I agree.”

Naruto wanted to protest immediately. While part of him entertained accepting the help with thankful tears and the ability to sleep in an actual bed every night, it still wasn’t time. Things were still delicate, and just like the early years of Naruto’s Hokage tenure, delegating work would create unnecessary risks. While the Five Kage were all amicable and cooperative, outlying townships still posed threats that Naruto couldn’t afford to pass off on someone else quite yet. And ever since Sakura had violently chastised him for his use of Shadow Clones in his… weaker state, he usually only had two hands to comb through all those stacks of papers and binders.

“I don’t think–”

“You would still do the important work, meeting with delegations, overseeing new projects, handling high-profile outgoing missions,” Sasuke continued, ignoring whatever flimsy excuse Naruto had been about to attempt. “But it’s ridiculous that you’re still expected to fill out things like genin mission logs and damn zoning requests.”

He paused, expecting resistance and finding none. There was no way Naruto was about to stop one of Sasuke’s genuine tirades, especially when it concerned his own wellbeing, so he just gestured for him to continue.

“Past Hokages handled these things, it’s true,” Sasuke continued warily, not trusting Naruto’s silence. “But they never had to deal with such exponential growth. It only makes sense that as the village changes and the volume of responsibilities increase, the role of the Hokage follows suit. You shouldn’t be expected to handle trivialities that could be done by a secretary with the proper clearance.”

Naruto couldn’t have looked away even if he’d tried. “You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I have. You don’t have to be such a martyr.”

He smiled wryly. “Really?”

“Shut up,” Sasuke muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a hypocrite.”

Naruto chuckled to himself, bumping his shoulder against Sasuke’s. He didn’t want to reply to Sasuke’s proposal quite yet, as his tired brain would need a few more hours to think it over. Instead he just smiled and responded to what he could. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Will you speak with Shikamaru about the logistics?”

Naruto heard the underlying question. Sasuke wanted to know if he was overstepping, if Naruto felt invalidated as a Hokage because he couldn’t keep up with all the work. He wanted to know that Naruto would genuinely consider it, even if he needed a little more time.

A thought came to him, and he smiled kindly at Sasuke. “‘To know oneself is not to achieve everything and become perfect at everything, but to know what you can and cannot do – to be able to forgive oneself for the things one cannot do by themselves.’”

Sasuke glared at him. “Stop trying to be a poetic old man, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Those aren’t even my words!” He wouldn’t tell Sasuke who he was quoting.

“Whatever, your hour is half gone.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning over just enough to rest his shoulder against Sasuke’s.

“Naruto.”

“Hm?” He put more of his weight into it, pushing Sasuke’s buttons.

“Stop.”

“Hmmmm?”

“Twenty-seven minutes.”

Naruto laughed, kissing the side of Sasuke’s head just to irritate him. “I know, I know,” he said, moving back out of Sasuke’s personal space. Sasuke glared at him, but didn’t comment. He was such a softie these days.

They sat in silence for the remaining minutes, Naruto thinking instead of taking his nap. They observed the forest together, peering out at the cliff edge some ten feet away. The beams of sunlight falling through the leaves overhead were beautiful, even to someone as simple-minded as Naruto. Sasuke frequently spent speculative time in nature as some sort of healing process, as recommended by some mountain villager he’d met during his initial post-War travels. While Naruto had grown into his appreciation for inactivity and silence, Sasuke had been drawn to it his whole life, and seemed to revel in it even more in his nearly middle-age.

He knew his time was up when Sasuke turned to look at him again. He thankfully chose not to comment on the fact that Naruto had been ignoring the forest in favor of his profile for the last five minutes.

“Alright, I’ll head back,” he sighed, then stood and stretched. Sasuke’s eyes felt heavy on him. “What is it?”

He hesitated, glancing away before answering, “It was nice to see you.”

Naruto practically melted, beaming down at him and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my favorite person too, you know that?”

“Hn.”

“I’ve been thinking that practically all day.”

Sasuke laughed uproariously at that, which is to say he basically made a happy-sounding sigh. “Shut up, you were not.”

“Alright I thought it twice. In my defense, I’ve had a very busy day!”

Sasuke hummed noncommittally. “You should head back.”

Naruto paused just long enough for Sasuke to look away and lower his guard, then swooped down to give him a loud, wet kiss on the forehead. He yelped, then slapped his hand over his forehead, glaring up at him with murder in his eyes.

Naruto just laughed, enjoying how Sasuke could look so angrily scandalized. “Holy crap – you’re so – AHAHA!”

“You’re disgusting,” he scoffed, glaring and rubbing the spit off of his face. “That was juvenile.”

“You’re – you’re welcome, hot stuff,” he managed to get out through the laughter. His eyes were even starting to water at remembering Sasuke’s face.

“Leave. Now.”

Naruto nodded, enjoying how Sasuke still let him pat him on the shoulder in goodbye, already forgiven for his irritating gesture. “Are you still coming by later? I don’t think I’ll leave my office tonight.”

“I might not now, no.”

“Aww, so mean.”

“Shut up, of course I’ll stop by.”

Naruto bid him farewell by squeezing his shoulder. He felt Sasuke’s heavy gaze on his back even when he reentered the tree line, made his way through the forest, and swiftly ran through the Uchiha district. He’d never gotten his nap, but he enjoyed himself nonetheless.

With four minutes to make it back to his office and avoid Shikamaru’s wrath, it was time to trade one loveable Uchiha for another.

Chapter Text

Sarada was pacing inside of the Hokage’s office, desperate to get this interaction over with. She and her team had decided to stay subtle, not wanting to point-blank accuse the Hokage of a homosexual affair (which Boruto still didn’t know about). But if he found out what she’d be implying… oh god, was this technically slander? Or was it treason? Could she be locked up for this?

Her stomach was in knots and hands antsy, fiddling with her shirt, her hair, her glasses, anything to distract from what she was about to do. Twenty minutes ago she’d been outside, comforted by her friends and trying to contain her nerves. If this was anything close to how Boruto had felt before confronting his mother, Sarada didn’t know how he could’ve stayed so silent about it.

Chouchou’s final advice before separating had been, “Deep breaths, Uchiha.” She took a few now, and felt marginally better.

Meanwhile Boruto had been lost, brain visibly short-circuiting trying to come up with some last-minute advice worth offering. In the end he just winced awkwardly, the mental image making her want to laugh. She supposed that he’d helped in his own incompetent way.

When she’d walked up to the Hokage’s office door, Nara-san trailing behind her for once, she spotted an envelope sitting outside his door. Funnily enough, it was addressed to her. Nara-san glanced over her shoulder, laughing silently to himself for some reason.

The Hokage’s handwriting had been even more atrocious than usual:

“Sarada,

I have urgent business to handle – very important – but I will be back in one hour! If you have the time, feel free to wait for me in my very awesome office. If not, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.

Best wishes, Seventh.”

There was also a smiley face, a heart, and a crooked doodle of the Konoha leaf insignia.

Sarada had looked at Nara-san incredulously. “How did he know I was coming?” 

“Who knows? The Hokage is very mysterious and very wise,” he’d said with a sarcastic smile.

Nara-san had rested a hand on her shoulder, leading her into the Hokage’s vacated office. Apparently the paperwork had only been piling up in her absence, stacks higher than those she’d seen in her mom’s office. She could barely see the floor, as it was littered with binders and scrolls, letters and envelopes scattered about. The only space that was clear was a narrow path stretching from the Hokage’s desk chair to his office door.

“Here you go,” Nara-san had said, moving past her into the cluttered space and lifting a precarious stack of binders off of one guest chair. “You can wait here if you’d like. He should be back in fifty-eight minutes.”

She’d raised an eyebrow at the precise estimate, but decided not to comment. “Sure, thank you,” she’d muttered, watching her feet as she carefully stepped inside. Nara-san had pat her on the shoulder before leaving, closing the office door with a soft click. She hadn’t even asked any incriminating questions yet, but that single fond shoulder-pat made her head swim with overwhelming guilt.

And now she was here. Counting down the minutes from twenty-eight had been boring, but she couldn’t force her eyes away from the wall clock, had trouble moving her body toward the seat Nara-san had thoughtfully cleared for her. Alone in the Hokage’s office, Sarada contemplated soiling that trust and doing some… immoral snooping.

Obviously she shouldn’t go through the Hokage’s stuff, but she was just so curious! Maybe there was some piece of incriminating evidence lying around, a half-written love letter to his wife that would quickly and conveniently prove Sarada’s theory incorrect, perhaps?

After several more seconds spent staring up at the clock, Sarada sighed.

The Hokage trusted her. Nara-san trusted her. While the parameters of her mission necessitated having ends that justify means, she couldn’t bring herself to act so overtly immoral. Subtly questioning a subject was one thing, but rifling through said subject’s personal affects and confidential documents, said subject who has barely done anything suspicious enough to warrant such a search – she couldn’t justify that.

Instead Sarada unearthed the piles of chunin mission logs, statements provided but the Hokage’s analysis missing. Why this wasn’t someone else’s job was beyond Sarada, but she knew from experience that the Hokage allowed her to do these unsupervised. She started filling them out, the earliest one dating back just two weeks. Seeing her neat handwriting in the boxes and annotations for the filing department in the margins next to the Hokage’s stamp of approval got her imagination racing, veering away from the forms and toward some future in which she’d be able to delegate these tasks to some poor unfortunate jounin.

As she moved through stack after stack of D and C level mission logs, Sarada thought about how the role of Hokage must be so different than from when the Seventh was a kid. By the time the Seventh needed a successor, how would the position’s responsibilities change even further? If she was able to gain the village’s trust and become the Hokage herself, would she still be filling out these damn mission logs?

A booming voice broke through her vivid fantasy of Boruto stomping his foot over doing her grunt-work. “Sarada, you stayed!”

She jumped, looking up to see the Hokage sitting in the open windowsill. So lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard him coming. He looked extra happy today, but just as tired as usual.

“Hello Hokage-sa–”

“Seventh.”

“…Hello Seventh.”

His smile grew impossibly wider. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you.”

She took a pointed look at a nearby stack of binders. “Did you miss my help?”

“Oh sure, that’s part of it,” he laughed. For someone returning from “urgent business,” he sure seemed relaxed.

“How did you know I was coming over today?” She asked, begging her heartbeat to quiet down at recalling the real reason behind her visit.

“Ah… don’t be mad, but I saw you coming.”

“Oh, you did?” He saw her coming and ran away?

“Yeah, but I couldn’t stop, I’m sorry! It was… very important business.”

“Is it classified?”

“Well – do you want the truth, or do you want a very interesting, fantastical lie?”

It took her half a second to answer, “Both.”

“I was rescuing a distressed Princess! You see, her handbag is a family heirloom, and a gang of bandits blew into town. They stole away into her home in the dead of night, and I heard her calls for help, responding at once!” Sarada covered her mouth to hold in her laughter, eyes watering as the Hokage moved his arms to partially act out the tale.

“I intercepted their attempt to sell the bag on the black market, fighting off twenty – no, thirty enemy ninjas! I took them all down – with only my pinky! –  imprisoned the gang leaders, and returned the bag to the Princess, who gave me a grateful but chaste kiss on the cheek. What a good day, right?”

Sarada had lost the fight against her laughter, which seemed to make the Hokage even happier. She eventually collected herself enough to ask, “If this all happened in the dead of night, then where were you actually at one in the afternoon?”

The Hokage sighed something about ungrateful audiences not appreciating dramatic backdrops, but then gave her a small smile. “I was visiting your father.”

Now that Sarada had her insane theories and inklings, hearing the Hokage mention her father made her freeze mid-smile. Suddenly her it felt too wide, straining too much against her cheeks. “Oh, really?”

Thankfully, he didn’t comment on her too high voice. “Yes, it was some – I was consulting with him. On important village business.”

“Oh really?” She repeated dumbly, mind whirring away. Did this have anything to do with her theory, or had it been purely professional?

“Yes, but that part’s classified.”

“Of course, I understand.”

There was a pause, the Hokage turning in place to look out over the village. He tipped his head back, enjoying the sunlight on his face.

This explained Nara-san’s precise time estimate. Couldn’t her father simply have met the Hokage here? Why make the Hokage leave his office and risk meeting in a potentially unsecure location? Why did the Hokage seem so uncharacteristically relaxed after a top-secret meeting? Perhaps it had been more… informal.

“Actually,” she hesitantly started, fiddling with the corner of a few forms. “I wanted to ask you something about my father.”

“You can always ask him questions directly, you know,” the Hokage sighed, but his frustration didn’t seem to be aimed at her. “He might seem like a scary guy with all the black he wears, but he’s a big softie on the inside.”

Sarada almost laughed in disbelief at imagining her father as anything remotely resembling soft. “I wanted your opinion about him and my mom, actually.”

The Hokage grew more serious at that. “Why, what happened? What did he do this time?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Sarada waved away his concerns. “I was just wondering – how did they meet?”

The Hokage smiled happily, deflating from his suspicion. “I’m not sure when exactly they first met,” he explained. “We were all on the same team as genin, as you know, which is when their social relationship really started.”

“My mom said she always liked him, but I don’t know why my father fell in love with her.” She’d watched the Hokage carefully as she’d spoken, but her words had no visible effect on him.

“Well, she accepts him.” The Hokage moved to reclaim his chair, but left the window open. “She always has – which hasn’t always been a good thing, trust me. But your mom’s feelings for Sasuke have always been simplistic, and he appreciates that.”

“Simplistic?” Sarada frowned.

The Hokage rubbed his temple in thought. “Maybe that was the wrong word. It’s like… he’s always known exactly what she’s thinking or feeling. That kind of simplicity – straightforwardness, I guess, is nice. Especially considering the turbulent life he’d had up until then.”

An idea came to her. It felt heavy-handed to her, but the Hokage didn’t know her real motivations, so perhaps he wouldn’t be suspicious. “But don’t you and my father have that too?”

For four entire seconds, the Hokage froze perfectly still. “What?”

“Well, don’t you guys have a simple relationship too? One of friendship?”

The Hokage burst out laughing at that. Sarada felt as if she was the one being laughed at, and immensely disliked being excluded from the punch-line.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” the Hokage managed to get out. “It’s just – wow, I don’t think anyone has ever described my relationship with your father as simple.”

Really? To an outside eye, the way they got along seemed so easy. She supposed that she wasn’t privy to everything that had gotten them to this point, but the Hokage and father she’d seen interact seemed so stable.

“Your father,” the Hokage coughed back a final laugh before continuing. “He doesn’t trust easily, so I guess seeing him with anyone he trusts may give you the wrong impression. We – well, he and I understand each other, but it hasn’t always been as easy as you seem to think.”

So their relationship was less simple than that between her parents. Her father and the Hokage had complexity.

Sarada shook her head to temporarily clear out the analytical thoughts. “But he’s so different!”

The Hokage tilted his head and asked, “With what?”

The father she sees at home is vastly different than the man who’d stood at the Hokage’s side last week and looked amused at Boruto’s antics. When he’s with Sarada’s mom, her father is cold and distant, as if he’s holding something back. No, as if he’s not entirely at ease. Has this only been the case when Sarada is there to observe their interactions? Based off of everything she’s learned these past few weeks, maybe her parents get along just fine when she’s not there, not incidentally pressuring them to perform their roles as parents.

Maybe… when her father is with the Hokage, he doesn’t need to conform to any specific role? He already is the Hokage’s friend, so it must be easier to be genuine in his company than with her mom’s – playing the role of half a loving couple must be difficult for him. Or maybe their hypothetical secret relationship lends them towards a natural ease in one another’s presence.

But if he and the Hokage are anything more than friends as Sarada suspects, what does that mean for their seemingly authentic dynamic? Are they simply friends, which is why they both appear at ease, or is there something more? Who is her real father, and who is the real Hokage? She was getting a massive head ache from all of this.

Disheartened by her confusion, Sarada sighed. “Nothing, nevermind. You all really love each other, that’s all. It’s nice to see friendships that become strengthened with time, rather than weakened.”

The moment she stopped speaking, she knew she’d overstepped. She was talking to the Hokage, for god’s sake! How could she possibly think it would be appropriate to verbally analyze his closest friendships… Was the Hokage blushing?

He was! It was barely there, if she hadn’t been looking then she’d have missed it, but he was! “What? She asked. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, it’s–” The Hokage cleared his throat, then explained. “You’re such a good addition to the Uchiha family.”

Taken aback, Sarada could do little more than look at him and question his sanity.

“You’re so open, it’s refreshing.” He grinned at her and scratched at his neck. “I can’t remember the last time I heard the L-word out of an Uchiha’s mouth.”

“What, love?”

“Yeah.”

Why… why would he have? Is he alluding to a romantic or platonic love? Was the Hokage in a position to expect that kind of language from her father, or was he continuing to speak about friendship? This was all so overwhelmingly complicated and nebulous, Sarada was getting absolutely nowhere.

“Well, I love my friends, but even I don’t really say it…”

“Of course, but…” The Hokage turned to peer out the window for a few moments. A shiver ran down her back at the unguarded look on his face, at the way he smiled like he didn’t notice what his face was doing. The Hokage had never reminded her so strongly of Boruto as he did in that moment. “Actions speak louder than words, I suppose.”

Looking at the line and decidedly crossing it, Sarada muttered, “It’s still nice to hear, even just once.”

“Yeah,” the Hokage sighed. Turning back, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re so nosy today. Are you out of questions yet? I could really use the help with all this…” He trailed off in a vague gesture at the state of his office. As he looked at each and every stack, his face only grew more hopeless, until he ended with a distressed pout aimed at her.

Sarada laughed, clapping her hands together. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for!”

Half an hour into their work session, Sarada finally mentally slapped herself into action. She’d come all this way to get answers, damn it! Instead she was no closer to accomplishing the secret mission and had even more questions and loose threads to sort through than when she’d started. She’d been assigned to this leg of the mission because of her somewhat close relationship with the Hokage, and because Boruto felt that his mom was biased. In order to explore their relationship, her responsibility was to walk away from the Hokage Tower today with the words of the only other person who’d have an inside perspective on their marriage.

The power dynamic of her normal conversations with the Hokage were only slightly off balance, what with him being the Hokage. But for the most part, they conversed openly, comfortable in their friendly relationship. This meant that most days, Sarada didn’t have to read too much into what the Hokage was saying, didn’t have to do mental gymnastics to know what questions to ask next to find out specific information. For today, Sarada would have to throw that ease out the window, adopting the overly analytical lens she reserved for exams, missions, and her father.

“Hokage-sama…”

“Seventh,” he corrected instantly, not even blinking as he concentrated on the forms in front of him.

“Seventh, I was wondering – and let me know if this is overstepping, but I’m curious about – well, maybe I shouldn’t–”

“It’s fine Sarada,” he sighed, removing and folding up his reading glasses – the ones he hadn’t admitted to needing until three months into their relationship. He looked unsurprised, as if he’d been waiting for Sarada to ask him more deeply personal, invasive questions. “If I can’t answer, then I won’t, but you won’t offend me.”

As usual, Sarada was reminded of how perceptive the Hokage could be. She’d have to slip under his defenses more thoroughly to get any real answers out of him. Maybe if she could keep him talking, eventually he’d give something away about his relationship with Lady Hinata…

“Earlier I asked about how my parents met, but I was wondering…” It was now or never. “How did you and Lady Hinata meet? And when’d you realize that you, you know… loved her?”

The Hokage hummed to himself, flopping back in his chair and running a hand over his face. “When, huh? That’s a good question.”

She intensely focused on the Hokage’s relaxed expression, looking for any physical weaknesses that could give him away. He still looked normal though, so she pressed a little harder. “Sorry if it’s too personal, I’m just…” How could she get the Hokage to answer the way she needed? Maybe if she could endear herself, or make him feel as if he’s imparting advice – maybe if she said… “I don’t know what other adult to ask. I’ve been curious for a while now about romance and all that, but it’s kind of…”

There, that should do it. Plant the seed in his mind that she was asking for her own personal need, implying that the romantic relationships around her were all flawed and that she needed some perfect, shining beacon to model her own romantic life after. As embarrassing as it was to imply that she liked someone in that way, the ends outweighed the uncomfortable means.

The Hokage’s expression went from thoughtful to smug in less than a second, his grin instantly making her frown. “Oooo, Sarada, is there someone you like?”

Embarrassing. Horribly, disgustingly embarrassing. But it was fine, let him imagine that he has the upper hand, that Sarada isn’t meticulously thinking through every facet of this conversation. “Excuse you, but I asked first,” she deflected, hating how warm her cheeks felt.

He just laughed in response, amused with her discomfort. “This is such a great day, I must have so much good karma saved up.”

“Hokage-sama!”

“Seventh!”

She crossed her arms, eager to get on with it. “Are you going to answer or not?”

“Fine, fine.” He waved her discomfort off, exchanging his smugness for contemplation. “If you must know, I met Hinata back before I was a genin. I scared off some bullies for her.”

“Oh, that’s… brave of you.” She recalled her own experience with one particular bully. Even though she’d come to her own aid, Sarada couldn’t fault Lady Hinata, traditional girl through and through, for having fallen for her childhood savior.

“To be honest, I barely noticed her, even after that,” the Hokage chuckled. “Even though I was oblivious, thought her a bit creepy even, she grew up with a massive crush on me. Apparently everyone knew about it, everyone except me!”

Sarada laughed like the Hokage was obviously expecting of her. He’d been oblivious to his future wife? “I can imagine.” How did they get beyond that?

“I think she still loves me just as much, but in a different way,” the Hokage finished, staring off into space.

Weird, but she’d let it pass. “And you? When did you get feelings for her?”

His distant smile came back. “I couldn’t tell you. One day it’d all just… happened.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yup.” He paused, then seemed to come back to himself, smiling at Sarada. “Love is a process, you know, not an event. One day I was one person, and the next I was someone else entirely.”

What a strange way to describe falling in love.

“I love Hinata,” he sighed. “Even if my other loves get in the way most days.”

“Other loves?”

He grinned and gestured toward his cluttered desk. “The people of Konoha, of course!”

Sarada smiled back, hoping it looked less sad than she felt. “You are always busy.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t change a thing,” he said, smile relaxing into a content expression. “I love what I get to do every day, and I love all the people around me who make it possible. Once a few top-secret things get settled, my job will be much less hectic, and I’ll get to spend more time with my loved ones.”

Was it weird for the Hokage to lump his wife in with his career? No, it makes sense considering the nature and responsibilities of his job. He’s not shy about the love he feels for his people, for his coworkers and advisors, but were they equivalent to how he felt about Lady Hinata? Was his love for her actually any different?

“But what about romance?” Sarada went on, shoving her shovel even deeper into this pit of a conversation. “What about, I don’t know, dates!?” How she was having this conversation with the Hokage of all people, she had no idea. She could let herself die of shame later, but for now she had to focus.

“Sakura sure has raised a curious kid,” the Hokage teased, but still went on to answer her. “I’ve never been very good at romance, ask anyone. Hinata has suffered through it because she’s kind like that.” Something about the Hokage’s tone made Sarada feel as if the discussion had closed, but she pushed through anyway.

“So no romance?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“None with Lady Hinata?”

He shrugged, slipping back on his reading glasses. His defenses were down. “Nope.”

“None with anyone?”

“Eh, depends on your definition of romance.”

They both paused, seeming to realize what he’d said in the same moment. Sarada watched the Hokage’s face pale, then nearly shouted, “What?”

“No more questions!” The Hokage shook his head, unfolding his reading glasses. He fake-laughed, “You’re too chatty today, Sarada!”

“You can’t leave me hanging like that! Did you mean you had romance with Lady Hinata or someone else? You meant someone else, didn’t you?”

“I shouldn’t have said – wait, Lady Hinata of course!”

But it was too late, Sarada didn’t believe him. He’d too obviously regretted what he’d said for it to be about his wife.

“I’m not answering any more questions, this is – it’s inappropriate!”

Sarada laughed, her smile smug to mimic the Hokage’s earlier one. “Ooooo, Seventh!”

“We should get back to work,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses and leaning down close to the paper he was suddenly very interested in

She’d successfully caught him, now knew that he’d liked someone other than his wife at some point, and was apparently touchy enough about it to not want to talk about it. And he’d probably had an actual romance with that person. After getting him to slip up and narrow the field of possibilities, the idea of an extramarital affair was definitely still on the table, validating the sub-hypothesis of her mission. Alongside the Hokage’s somewhat weak support of his love for Lady Hinata, his explanation of their relationship far less verbose than Lady Hinata’s had been, Sarada couldn’t help but feel validated.

Despite her small victories, Sarada needed to do damage control. She couldn’t just leave the conversation hanging like that. How could she get the Hokage comfortable again? Ah yes, reassert her earlier claim.

“Thank you for talking about ths Seventh,” she said, pitching her voice low and nonthreatening. When the Hokage glanced at her over the rim of his glasses, she smiled gratefully. “It’s nice to know that even people who’re bad at romance can make a relationship work, you know?”

There, she left it as a question. A question that would prompt an answer.

“Of course,” he responded, returning her smile with a small one of his own. He looked far more comfortable now, so Sarada internally pat herself on the back. “I’m glad I could help even a little bit. Romantic feelings are… complicated.”

“Mhmm.” She nodded, noting the Hokage’s contradiction with his earlier comments about her parents’ feelings. “Alright, I’ll get back to work. Thank you again, Seventh.”

She ignored the surge of guilt she felt at the Hokage’s warm expression. “Any time, Sarada.” He looked as if he wanted to continue on, but instead he sighed and went back to his forms.

Another hour later Sarada could no longer ignore her hunger (she’d skipped lunch out of nervousness), so she bid the Hokage farewell. He thanked her profusely for all the help, looking close to tears at the now orderly stacks lining the walls of his office to leave the center of the room open. Wielding only sticky notes, a pen, and her soul-deep determination to combat disorder, Sarada had arranged everything into twelve stacks, their purposes and internal sections delineated by the colorful adhesive papers. Though the Hokage’s desk was still a disaster, she considered her job done for today.

Chouchou tackled her the moment she emerged from the Hokage Tower. She shot questions off immediately, leaving no room for potential answers. Boruto looked on, looking like he wanted to edge closer but was reluctant to step on Chouchou’s doting toes.

“Did anything go terribly wrong? Did he realize what you were doing – is he super suspicious now? I bet he yelled at you, I can see it now! Did we make him hate you now – oh gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Shut up, and get off,” Sarada giggled. She pushed Chouchou back a step and let her hand linger on her shoulder for comfort. “Nothing crazy happened, we just had a conversation.”

“About what?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.” Sarada sighed, then looked to Boruto. “I asked him about my parents, and he talked about how simple their relationship is.”

Boruto frowned. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard once,” Chouchou commented, crossing her arms.

“What about…” Boruto hesitated, but finished strong. “And his relationship with my mom?”

Sarada pinched the bridge of her nose, regretting how Boruto would feel about her findings. “Honestly, he didn’t instill a lot of confidence in their relationship either.” She glanced at Boruto’s sad expression, but couldn’t look for long.

Chouchou glanced between them, then nodded to herself. “Come on, let’s go talk somewhere else.”

Chapter Text

Before Naruto had become Hokage he’d been working for Kakashi, carrying out high-level missions while also acting as a liaison within the village, almost like an adviser. Konoha had grown substantially under Kakashi’s leadership, businesses springing up all over town and babies being born at least once a day. But even despite this positive progress, there were others within the village who looked at these new buildings and fresh faces with betrayal.

The older clans were not enthusiastic about how progressive the village was becoming, which was an extreme understatement. After all, in a new world order based on merit instead of tradition, they would lose all their carefully cultivated influence. The public would eventually come to remember them only in passing, possibly only in negative contexts. No, the clans weren’t going down without a fight, and it was exhausting everyone working within the Hokage Tower who had the greater good in mind.

This was why Naruto found himself walking up to the tall, foreboding gates of the Hyuuga family compound yet again. An attendant came to fetch him, leading him towards the large main building several hundred feet back from the entrance. It was surrounded by low-lying buildings and traditionally trimmed gardens, all recrafted after the war, modeled to look as old and therefore historic as possible. Naruto wouldn’t have been surprised to be told that the compound was an exact replica of the old one, unchanged from what had been the norm for hundreds of years.

He scowled at the poignant metaphor. Unused to being poetic, Naruto entirely blamed Sasuke’s recent foray into reading old short stories and poetry collections. Gods, he was thinking words like “foray,” for shit’s sake. Sometimes he missed being a simple idiot.

With the door held open for him, Naruto bowed slightly as he entered the main Hyuuga building. The elders were present as expected, the seven left from their generation sitting on floor cushions as usual. The one in the middle was Tenzen, the oldest. His dull white beard was long enough to nearly brush the floor, and Naruto had spent a shameful number of past meetings staring at its bushy tip.

“Please, sit,” Tenzen stated, his beard swishing as he gestured to the cushion placed before them.

One against seven. That was how the room had been arranged for seven months, and today was no different.

Naruto bowed again out of courtesy and habit. Some of the members were glaring his way, disapproving of him even after all this time and all the things he’d done for both their family and the village.

“I come on behalf of the Rokudaime, Kakashi Hatake,” he said, taking charge in an otherwise unbalanced situation, as was typical. “As I feel we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well this past year, I will be blunt. There has been talk of noncompliance with certain new ordinances regarding clan secrecy and membership, which I am here to address and enforce to the fullest extent of the Hokage’s will.”

Working in an official capacity for so long, Naruto had gotten the hang of speaking professionally. But this particular group had tried his patience for months on end, and he was unwilling to humor their sensibilities today with small talk or niceties.

After he fell silent, the room remained so for several long moments. The elders were glancing between one another, disinclined to hide their looks of apprehension and disapproval.

A woman on the left spoke up – Hitomi was her name, the oldest female. “How dare you show such insolence in our presence? Formalities are a necessary practice, and in forgoing them you have demonstrated a blatant disregard for our familial customs.”

Naruto wisely ignored the almost overpowering urge to sigh. Instead he dropped some of his formality, just to spite them. “With all due respect, I have other meetings today. I simply didn’t want to waste anyone’s time with pleasantries, especially when the problem at hand can be so easily fixed.”

“Oh really?” This time it was the skinny man speaking up, Tamaki, limbs practically shaking in their deterioration. “Then let’s set aside your rude, childish demeanor and focus on the task at hand.” Naruto clenched his fists on his thighs, but held his tongue.

“The fact is that you lot in the Hokage Tower are acting without regard for the welfare of the village. Too focused on what you perceive to be the best courses of action, you ignore the fundamentals of reality and overturn centuries of precedent with a careless swipe of ink across paper. Your Hokage may have written down his Law of Clan Compliance, but we were not adequately consulted with prior to its implementation.”

Another man piped up, Kenshii. “Parts of the Law are all well and good, but there are certain subsections with which we take issue. You have to understand, we cannot simply hand over our secrets to the government, especially not when the waiting eyes of other clans are there to–”

“It would be madness!” Hitomi practically shouted. “Pure madness, plain and simple! Why, I’ve never seen such disregard for tradition, such a lack of respect for those who have seen and experienced more than you ever could! What’s next, asking for a detailed report on how the Byakugan functions? Where do these interventions into private clan affairs stop?”

Naruto started to tune them out, accustomed to their complaints. He noticed with more than a touch of annoyance that they were not taking him seriously simply because of his age, and ignoring Kakashi’s Law simply because they wanted to remain obtusely conservative. Interestingly enough, Tenzen was remaining silent, simply watching Naruto with a blank face. Maybe he could be reasoned with?

Fully understanding the situation, Naruto dove right in, interrupting the woman who was still working herself up to spectacular heights. “While I understand your reluctance, you have to understand the position you’ve put us in. The Hyuuga family is still influential among Konoha clans, and they look to you as a model for how they should behave. Your lack of compliance has affected other families, making them skeptical of a law that was debated for seven months before a final draft was approved by all clans, including the Hyuuga. It is imperative that this law be executed for the future stability of the village, despite any temporary hardships you may face when its enforcement begins.”

He narrowed his eyes at each of them in turn, hoping to chastise them into cooperation. “I remember plenty of afternoons spent in this very room, fleshing out the details of the compromise, and now you want to throw it all away? Why? Give me the real reason why you’ve so thoroughly wasted my time.”

The room fell silent once more, and Naruto briefly regretted losing his temper. While he hadn’t shouted or unleashed any of the profanities bouncing around his head, he’d basically told them the diplomatic equivalent of, “Go shove it up your ass.”

“I shall return your bluntness in kind,” Tenzen finally said, rejoining the conversation from his obnoxiously high pedestal. “We will agree to comply with the law so long as you remain the liaison between the Hokage Tower at the Hyuuga clan. You are a powerful ally, Uzumaki-san, and a skilled negotiator.”

Confused, Naruto was at a loss of words. He’d only been arguing for five minutes, poorly at that, and they were already giving in? In the past he’d been arguing in this very room for hours on end, escaping the pressurized stares only long enough to pee or leave at the end of the day.

“But Tenzen,” the oldest woman spoke up. “We cannot allow–”

“Silence,” he commanded. Even Naruto swallowed nervously at the disdain on the old man’s face. “Do not interrupt me.”

The woman shut her mouth and glared at the floor.

“As I was saying,” he calmly went on, blank as if nothing had happened. “You have impressed us over time, and we wish to continue cultivating prosperous relations with you.”

Naruto frowned at that. He waited to make sure Tenzen wasn’t going to continue, then asked, “Why prioritize me over the Hokage?”

“The Rokudaime is the present, but you are the future,” he explained without explaining anything.

“I see,” Naruto lied. “So you stalled adopting the Law of Clan Compliance measures simply because you wanted to…?”

“Demonstrate what happens to this village when clans aren’t properly considered.” At Naruto’s look of confusion, he went on. “In the week since the Law was passed, how many clans have complied?”

He grit his teeth. “None, sir.”

“Earlier you stated that the Hyuuga act as an unofficial leader of the village clans. Despite the understatement, you were correct.” He paused, either for dramatic effect or because his old lungs needed the break. “Past Hokages have cultivated strong connections with influential clans, but the Rokudaime has not. In doing so, he has slighted clan culture and relationships. Moving forward, you, Naruto Uzumaki, are the most likely Nandaime – if village gossip is to be believed.” His smiled made Naruto feel cold.

“If you want to say something, spit it out,” he muttered, ignoring the disapproving huffs of the elders.

“Your seven months of negotiations have been tiring, correct?”

“That is an understatement, sir.”

The old man’s grin only widened. “The Hyuuga clan is capable of establishing a consensus among the other clans. We speak for them on most official matters, as our interests strongly align. Considering this, would it not be advantageous for a future Hokage to have greater sway within the Hyuuga family?”

He paused again for emphasis, waiting for Naruto to catch on to whatever he was implying. At Naruto’s feigned look of disinterest in the nebulous mutterings of an old man, a relatively young woman spoke up. “Lady Hinata speaks of you fondly.”

Although his first instinct was to snap at her useless interjection, beyond irritated at having his time wasted, several pieces fell into place all at once. He looked at the leader with wide, surprised eyes. The man’s smile only confirmed his disbelief.

“Are you saying…?”

“When you become the Nandaime, you will have the unwavering support of the Hyuuga clan,” Tenzen stated. “In return, you will marry into our family, taking the hand of Lady Hinata and bearing at least two offspring.”

In the calm before the storm, Naruto had a sick feeling of understanding wash over him. These people had been deliberately obtuse ever since Kakashi had taken office, no matter how many compromises they made or much the village improved, how peaceful the air felt. Instead of respecting the new authority, they’d bypassed Kakashi to view Naruto with ulterior motives.

Recalling Hinata’s smiling face as they’d chatted in a market last week, Naruto felt nauseous. Recalling the warm kiss Sasuke had given him as he’d left for work that day, still half-asleep and uninhibited, Naruto wanted to punch someone.

“How dare you think you can order me to do anything like that!” Naruto shouted, jumping up in his haste to threaten. “How dare you try to pawn off Hinata like some bargaining chip, all so you can maintain standing among your peers as the most powerful clan! I refuse to be compromised in such a disgusting way!”

“You cannot address Master Tenzen in such a way, you insolent brat!”

“Why must we shout? I’m too old for this.”

“Silence,” Tenzen said, cutting off the arguing of his underlings and Naruto’s impending rampage. “Uzumaki-san, please speak calmly. Lady Hinata is waiting to discuss this matter with you, and our attendant will lead you to her.”

“I will do no such thing! You can’t extort me the way you do Hinata!”

The attendant sheepishly stepped up to him with a shaky smile, leading him away with a guiding hand on his arm. Naruto wanted to punch her, wanted to kick at the elders for being so underhanded, for putting him and Hinata in such a position.

“You sick old pervs can shove it up your asses. I refuse to be a part of your weird power schemes!”

The attendant led him down a long hallway, the shouts of the oldest woman finally being drowned out. Eventually the young woman let go of his arm, trusting him not to run back into the main room and pummel some old person into the next life.

The doors she opened led into a wide room. An entire wall composed of doors was opened, overlooking a small garden and tiny pond. Grasses and shrubs were perfectly manicured in the Hyuuga style, but even Naruto took a moment to be impressed by the serene view. A cough nearby had him focusing back on the room and the matter at hand.

Hinata was sitting on a thick, wide cushion in the middle of the floor, low table and delicate tea set in front of her. The room itself was rather cold, bright white walls painted with murals of grays and blues. But in the afternoon sunlight, the space seemed otherworldly.

“Hey Hinata,” he muttered. He nodded at the attendant and watched her leave, then joined Hinata at the small table and the cushion perhaps pointedly not placed across from her.

With only the corner of the table between them, Naruto was closer to her than he’d been in quite some time. She looked tired, maybe a little weaker than she’d been at the market. She was still as pale as ever, but for some reason today she looked almost sickly.

“Is everything alright?”

Hinata smiled at him, the gesture just as small and shy as always. “I could hear you shouting, although your words were muffled.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I overreacted, but still…”

Those old geezers had known just how to soften Naruto into compliance. Sit him in a room with a calm, sweet Hinata Hyuuga, and he’d listen to just about anything. Still, he refused to go along with–

“I am sick,” Hinata stated.

A bamboo fountain in the outside garden tilted, hitting another stalk with a loud sound.

“You’re… sick?”

“Don’t worry, it is not contagious,” she explained, watching Naruto’s expression carefully. “I was diagnosed last year, but the news has stayed within the Hyuuga clan. The illness is not life-threatening, but it is incurable and I feel its effects every day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Naruto watched her reach for the tea set, pouring them each a small porcelain cup of tea.

“It’s fine, many people assumed this would happen eventually.” She smiled down at her cup. “Despite my role within the clan, I have become a symbol of weakness that they would rather keep hidden away.”

Naruto wanted to rage, to tear down the painted paper walls and rip branches off of perfectly manicured shrubbery.

“So you know about what those old farts were telling me before? Hinata, they want me to marry you or something–”

“Yes, it was not my idea,” she said, smiling at his characteristic forwardness. “Once it became obvious that I could not achieve greatness for this clan, their attentions moved to my sister. She is not as young as she once was, but the time is still not quite right, and they desperately need purchase in these turbulent transitioning times.”

“Turbulent?” Naruto shook his head, scoffing. “Konoha has never been more peaceful!”

Hinata shook her head, but the movement was carefully measured. “You must understand, for civilians and the central government these are peaceful times, but the clans all feel as if they are under attack, the Hyuuga especially.”

“What?”

Hinata sighed, taking a moment to sip at her tea. While the fine porcelain fit perfectly in her small hands, Naruto couldn’t even bring himself to pick his up, too afraid of crushing the delicate cup.

“Naruto-kun, the clans know they’re dying out.”

After the war, people had wanted to turn away from the old ways. Those in the know knew how instrumental traditional practices and prejudices had been in establishing precedents of corruption. The progressive agenda of the village had started under Kakashi’s rule, but it was common knowledge that whenever Naruto gained the Hokage’s hat and robes, times would swiftly change even further.

“If you were a member of a dying breed, would you not also justify your means with your ends?”

“So this is their way of maintaining power,” Naruto muttered, processing everything as he spoke. “They know their reputation will become obsolete one day. No one will care or even know what it means to be a Hyuuga but… isn’t that a good thing?”

Hinata smiled again. “In some ways, yes. In others… I mourn the loss of my family’s stability.”

“As long as they work within the new system, they’ll be fine,” he explained, sighing. “They’re being dramatic and fatalistic, not even trying before they’ve given up.”

“This is their form of trying.”

“Underhanded ways that’re relics from an underhanded system,” he scoffed. “I refuse to let them extort me – use you as a tool to get the power and influence they want.”

“Naruto-kun, please consider it,” she murmured.

The bamboo fountain struck itself once more.

“Wait, you actually… you support this?”

Eyes wide and cheeks pink, Hinata blinked up at him. “Would it really be so bad to marry me?”

Once again, he was at a loss for words. “Wha – how could – but we don’t–”

“You are not seeing anyone right now,” Hinata went on, talking over him in a low voice. “By the looks of it, you never will. You don’t seem particularly interested in romance, and I would be a low-maintenance investment for you. The Hyuuga will care for me, as they always have.”

“That’s not – I don’t think–”

“While I once thought I loved you, I recognize those feelings for the childish idolization they had been. I don’t know if we can ever love each other, but surely that is not necessary for a marriage, no?”

Even just imagining it flooded him with distress and horror. “How can you say that?”

“How can you be so willfully ignorant?” Hinata finally got fired up, but it only made her look weaker. “What do you think will happen when you become the Hokage? The clans still support an impressive portion of the village’s day-to-day functions, still hold enormous pools of wealth just waiting to be invested in public works projects. Think of how many schools, how many parks, how many orphanages could be built, with even a fraction of the Hyuuga’s financial holdings!”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re really on board with this plan…?”

“Would you rather me waste away in quiet solitude?” Hinata sighed, turning her empty tea cup in her fingers. “I do not want to be removed from the world, and this opportunity seems to be the only way for me to appear useful once more. Also… I believe I would make a wonderful mother.”

Naruto’s stomach dropped out of his body. “You would… but with someone else.”

“Naruto-kun, you don’t understand – no one else wants me!”

“Hinata…”

“Am I really so repellant? You wouldn’t have to live with me, wouldn’t even be able to see me very often! You’d be so busy, and I’d be here with my doctors and caretakers, and–”

Despite how off-the-rails his life had suddenly become, Naruto couldn’t help but ask, “Can your body even handle a pregnancy?”

Hinata fell quiet at that, looking out over the garden herself. “The doctors say that there is little to no risk, and that the illness would not be passed down to my children. But the nurses… they look at me with obvious concern.”

Naruto chuckled at that, laughing harder when Hinata looked at him like he’d finally lost it. And shit, maybe he had.

“This is insane,” he choked out, laughter overtaking him. “This is – this is the craziest–”

“I know that it is awkward to imagine right now, but can you offer me a single valid reason as to why this is a bad idea?”

“How about the fact that I’d be subjected to the whims of the Hyuuga clan?”

“What power would they hold over you? They would ask you for things, but you’d be under no obligation to comply. If anything, they’d have to follow your orders, as they could not be seen acting contrary to the laws of their heir’s husband.”

“I don’t want to be a part of such a corrupt system, even if it is just a clan.”

“You wouldn’t have to be a part of it, I would. The elders understand that they cannot control you, they are simply looking for a way to save themselves.”

The more he thought about it, the more horrified he became. He was being forced to consider this offer, this deal that made him want to barf.

Kakashi had gotten away with being a bachelor because he was… well, he was Kakashi. But whenever Naruto took office – he was under no illusions that it could be anyone else – would the village extend that same courtesy? Would his status as publicly single make life harder for him? Surely it didn’t actually matter!

“I don’t need to be married to become the Hokage,” he said, voice hoarse with stress.

Hinata sighed again. “No, but would it not make life easier? For the both of us? Naruto, if you do not accept this deal, they will marry me off to the next best man, one I may not know, possibly from another village.”

“Now you’re extorting me?” Naruto clenched his fists, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to get out of here.

She looked apologetic. “Not intentionally, no. I apologize.”

“Hinata, I just… I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“Why? Would it really be so bad to have the support of the clans, to have someone to send you lunches, to have children?”

Naruto swallowed past his dry throat. He’d have to tell her. Hardly anyone knew, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. He’d have to address the real reason why he could never marry her, the reason he’d been pushing down this whole time just so he wouldn’t have to say it.

But she looked betrayed at his refusals, scorned as if he found her disgusting. He didn’t, but he also was not attracted to her in the slightest. While he’d found women pretty in his youth, he had no desire to consider anyone else.

“What are you holding back, Naruto-kun?” She asked, somehow reading his thoughts.

Hinata leaned towards him, the collar of her robe falling wider as she moved.

“I know you don’t love me, but aren’t I at least… attractive?”

His blood ran cold, and he watched with detached fascination as Hinata slipped her hand onto his thigh. Her fingers were pale, but they were too small, too delicate, too soft.

Naruto’s voice came out weak despite the simple gesture. “Please, don’t…”

“Why? People say I’m beautiful,” she continued, leaning forward further. She tilted her shoulder a certain way, the sleeve falling down to her elbow. “I may be sick, but the nurses say it makes me more feminine.”

That word finally snapped Naruto out of his haze of disbelief and shock. He kicked out at the floor, propelling himself far back enough to slam into one of the paper walls. His breaths sounded harsh and his thigh felt cold.

Hinata looked at him as if he’d slapped her, as if he’d cursed at her and spit in her face. “What is wrong with you?” She cried out.

“I love someone else,” he heard himself saying, breaths still labored from the shock. “I love them, and I can’t marry you because I don’t want to, because I don’t want to make them sad, because it would hurt–”

“What do you mean you love someone else?” Hinata looked just as shocked as Naruto felt. “You haven’t been seen flirting around the village, you don’t go on dates. Even Kiba mentioned that when you all go out, you show zero interest in any of the girls at bars.”

“I love Sasuke,” he muttered, voice small and fragile. “I love him, and he loves me, and we’re happy.”

“What…” Hinata stared at him, face impossibly paler and mouth hanging open in shock. “What did you say?”

Oh god, what had he said? Of all the times… “I…”

“You love Sasuke?” Apparently she’d heard him just fine. “We – we all already know that. You’re both so close, like brothers–”

His heart twisted in his chest. “In love, Hinata. We’re in love.”

“But…” Her breath left her all at once as she slumped against the table, face in her hands. “I don’t understand.”

Naruto knew his hands were shaking, could see them clenching on the floor next to him, but he couldn’t feel them, they were someone else’s.

He and Sasuke had never told someone about their relationship – not explicitly, anyway. Kakashi and Sakura had just known, and if more people in their lives knew then they hadn’t said anything. But if Hinata’s reaction was anything to go by, and Kiba’s apparent commentary too, then it would seem they were far more subtle than Sakura insisted.

He hadn’t had to sit through this gnawing feeling of rejection in a long time, of watching someone change the way they saw him right before his eyes.

“I thought you were both just protective, after everything,” she muttered, still hiding her face.

“That might be part of it, but it’s… it’s not enough that he’s not lost, that he’s not hurting. I feel like I – I want to be the one to make him happy.”

“…Does he make you happy?”

Naruto smiled even though she wasn’t looking, which was probably for the best as he felt tears welling up. “More than I’ve ever been.”

“You’ve changed, Naruto-kun.”

“That’s what it means to live, Hinata.”

She finally looked up at that, gaze steady despite her wavering frown and damp eyes. “How long?”

“A… a while.”

“How long?”

Naruto looked out over the garden, idly noticing the sound of bamboo striking bamboo. “Since a year after the war.”

“Three years, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Who else knows?”

“Sakura, Kakashi…” Naruto didn’t know why he was even responding, why he was saying any of this. He felt so untethered, as if he was barely drifting through this conversation without being sucked out into the garden and the sky beyond. “Maybe some other people, but none that I know of for sure.”

Hinata took a deep breath, then steepled her fingers together. “Here’s what we can do. You stop seeing him, make sure no one else finds out this happened–”

“Wait, what?”

“Naruto-kun, it’s – it’s shameful, don’t you see? If we carry out this deal, then how would I – how would you look to the public that you had a homosexual affair, and for so long? No, you can’t be seen together anymore.”

Lightheaded, Naruto pressed back into the wall he was leaning against. “Shameful, huh?”

“You can move into the Hyuuga complex. We can – we can have separate rooms. When it comes to children, I suppose I could–”

“Hinata,” he murmured, voice quiet and hurt. “You’ve changed too.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t remember you being this… horrible.”

“Naruto-kun, don’t you get it?” Hinata stood up, stepping closer carefully. “You can’t keep – keep seeing him! You can’t have a future together, can’t exist in our village the way it is now! It would be so much easier for you to marry me, and I’ll – I’ll never expect more from you than you can give.”

Naruto realized he was shaking his head, hunching in on himself. “Please, just stop.”

“I’m thinking about what’s best for you, for both of us!” Hinata started to crouch down in front of him and Naruto didn’t know what he’d do.

The door to the room slammed open to reveal Shikamaru. He glared down at them, fixing Hinata with a look of disgust.

“Step back, Hinata.”

“Shikamaru-san!” Hinata straightened up to her full, small stature. She finally fixed her sleeve, but only after wiping her eyes. “I didn’t realize we’d called for your presence as well. I must apologize, but this is a rather private–”

His expression turned darker. “Step. Back.”

Hinata complied, confusion on her face. Naruto watched as Shikamaru came to crouch in front of him in her place, mouth twisting in pity and eyes flashing in defensiveness.

“Are you alright, Naruto?” He shook his head, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “Come with me.”

Shikamaru tentatively grabbed his arm and hauled him up. With one last dirty look shot in Hinata’s direction, he silenced any protests she might’ve offered. Naruto was pulled back down the narrow hall, through a room full of shouting old people, then the dull evening sunlight made him squint. How long had he been in there for?

Shikamaru dropped his arm as they walked in silence, not seeming to be heading in any specific direction. The village streets were emptying out, people rushing home for dinner or closing up their shops.

“Kakashi sent me,” Shikamaru stated, breaking the silence. “Your visit wasn’t supposed to last more than an hour at most, and he got tired of waiting.”

“How much did you hear?”

Shikamaru gave him a sideways glance. “…Enough. The Elders weren’t very subtle about their goals, either. They considered it a battle already won by the time I showed up, so they were bragging.”

Naruto’s stomach started hardening again, his head pulsing with the urge to run, but Shikamaru cut him off before he could so much as pick a side street.

“For the record, I’ve always known.”

He looked at his knowing smirk incredulously. “Really? You have?”

“Of course, I’m not stupid.”

“How – what do you think of–” Naruto swallowed nervously. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another visceral rejection like Hinata had thrown at him.

Shikamaru sighed. “Hinata was reacting emotionally after being rejected. Give her some time before you decide whether or not to forgive her.”

“Do you–” Naruto bit his lip, holding back the question pressing insistently at his lungs.

“Do I what?”

“…Are Sasuke and I really that disgusting?”

Shikamaru stopped at that, leaving Naruto to stop several paces ahead, facing away so he could avoid the look of disgust that had been aimed Hinata’s way earlier, the one that was probably aimed his way now.

“I think what you two do behind closed doors is no one’s business but your own,” he explained, voice steady and emphatic. “Despite everything, you two seem to be very good for each other. You’re both happy, and who am I – who is anyone to judge your relationship or say it’s wrong?”

He knew Shikamaru could see his shoulders shaking, but he couldn’t help it. “I guess I just…”

“You’re both adults, you know what you’re doing. You are the only ones who have any say over how you live your lives. And sometimes…”

Naruto glanced back at his sudden hesitance, letting Shikamaru see the tears rolling down his cheeks. His expression held none of the judgment he’d aimed at Hinata, only understanding and acceptance, and Naruto couldn’t look away.

Shikamaru sighed and finished, “Sometimes I think you two are absolutely perfect for each other.”

Naruto felt a sob well up inside his chest at that, but held it in with a hand to his mouth. “I haven’t – I don’t think I’ve ever been so–”

Shikamaru came up to him, patting him on the back. “Hey now, who are you going to listen to? The genius who’s known you and Sasuke since childhood, or the shy stalker who built an idealistic, romantic image of you in her head and had it smashed with reality not ten minutes ago?”

Naruto huffed a small laugh at that, but still felt more tears come. “You’re not that smart.”

Shikamaru laughed, pushing him to get moving again. “I’ll tell Kakashi that I took you home. You’ve obviously had a stressful day if you’ve deluded yourself about my intellect.”

Naruto let him lead the way back to his and Sasuke’s apartment. The place was officially only Sasuke’s, so how Shikamaru knew to take him here was a problem for the Naruto of tomorrow to analyze. All the while Shikamaru chatted about what Naruto had missed that afternoon, how much paperwork he would have to catch up on tomorrow, how one of Kakashi’s dogs peed on an important document. After the day he’d had, Naruto was looking forward to a boring day in an office.

Sasuke was already home when Naruto opened the door. He shouted something about food from the bathroom, then came around the corner, relaxed expression falling away with shock and anger. He must still look like a mess.

“What the fuck happened?”

Shikamaru sighed something about boyfriends being a pain under his breath. Sasuke glared at him, but otherwise didn’t comment.

“Hinata Hyuuga proposed to me today,” Naruto said, jumping headfirst into the day’s events. “She didn’t like the reason why I turned her down.”

“Wait, she proposed?” Shikamaru exclaimed from behind him.

Sasuke moved forward, eyes skimming over Naruto’s undoubtedly tear-streaked face and red eyes. “What’d she say?”

He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed at having overreacted to her slights. “Nothing much, just… some stuff.”

Sasuke huffed, then looked to Shikamaru for an explanation. He sighed, “I only heard some of it, but from the sound of it… She was not happy to be turned down because of… you guys.”

Moving forward again, Sasuke came up to Naruto and ran his hand over his arm. He looked at him with a completely straight face as he said, “I’ll beat her up for you.”

Naruto laughed even though he knew Sasuke wasn’t entirely joking. “No, you shouldn’t–”

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Shikamaru waved as he backed out of the apartment. “I don’t want to hear anything incriminating about his plans for Hinata.”

Naruto smiled and returned the wave while Sasuke nodded. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Sure thing,” Shikamaru replied with a smile, then shut the door.

Audience gone, Sasuke stepped confidently into Naruto’s personal space, cupping his jaw to keep eye contact. “I’m serious, I’ll kill her.”

“Stop it.”

“You look miserable.”

Naruto shrugged. Sasuke watched him for a few moments, obviously calculating the best way to make him feel better.

“…We can throw firecrackers over the walls of the Hyuuga compound.” Apparently he was going with humor, which he’d grown better at after years of living together.

“Come on, you–”

“I’ll pay Shino to have a bug fly in her Byakugan’s blind spot. The noise would drive her insane.”

Naruto bit back his smile. “Did you just come up with that?”

“I’ll paint a mustache on her while she’s sleeping.”

Naruto giggled at the mental image, then smiled widely in response to Sasuke’s small one. “I’d love to see that, but it’d be too mean.”

Sasuke muttered something that sounded like curse words under his breath as he ran his thumb over Naruto’s cheek and under his eye. “She made you cry.”

“Well, I didn’t cry until after,” Naruto tried, but turned sheepish under Sasuke’s glare.

He frowned as he bit out, “Come here.” He pulled Naruto into a hug, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and running his fingers over his shoulder.

Naruto melted into the warmth instantly, wrapping Sasuke up and burying his head in his neck. In this simple space, no belligerent old people or judgmental childhood friends existed. He sighed as he felt all the tension of his day leaving his shoulders, the weight in his stomach lessening considerably.

He felt Sasuke nuzzle at his ear, his nose cold like always. “Do I want to know exactly what happened?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Naruto murmured, pressing a quick kiss onto Sasuke’s collarbone. “Don’t wanna think about it now.”

“Alright, later.” Sasuke ran his fingers through the hair at the base of Naruto’s neck. He knew exactly how to calm Naruto down.

After everything that’d happened, after having so much to think about and deliberate, it was nice to have a single moment of pure comfort. Before everything changed, before he had to break the news to Sasuke that he’d have to genuinely consider Hinata’s offer, Naruto was happy to shamelessly hold them together before everything changed.

They’d always been sources of comfort for one another, even back when they’d been enemies. Naruto couldn’t imagine a life without Sasuke, and he’d been told confidently that the feeling went both ways. They would always be there to support each other because that’s what loved ones did.

So when Naruto showed up for his Hokage duties the day after his strange conversation with Sarada, fully prepared to bring up the topic of hiring an assistant, he’d been surprised at Shikamaru’s news.

“What do you mean Sasuke’s gone?”

Chapter Text

After subtly interrogating the Hokage and presenting her findings to her friends, Sarada had been expecting pats on the back at having so thoroughly cornered the Hokage. This was a bit of an exaggeration, obviously, but she’d at least thought she’d walked away with some pretty convincing evidence that the Hokage and his wife weren’t that gone on each other, and damn it she deserved to be praised!

“That’s all you got? Really?”

Instead of hearty congratulations on a job well done, Boruto had merely shrugged and Chouchou had sighed. Screw them, it had been hard! Trying to verbally out-maneuver the leader of a village is nearly impossible, and Sarada had done as much as she could!

“I mean, I probably could’ve just asked him point blank and gotten the same results,” Chouchou had scoffed. She then pat Sarada on the shoulder, the action dripping with condescension, and said, “But hey, nice try.”

What the hell?

“I have to agree, not your finest work Uchiha,” Boruto piled on. “But good effort.” He then dared to pat her on the head.

What the ever-loving hell?

Half a second away from biting his hand off, Sarada had slapped both their hands away and geared up to defend her actions. Seething and humiliated, Sarada turned to make Boruto her outlet. The bastard took one look at her expression and sprinted away. Figures…

With Boruto gone, Sarada addressed the progress on their other secret mission regarding the Hokage and her father.

“It’s all circumstantial though,” Chouchou sighed. “You’ve got these ‘hunches’ and ‘feelings’, and sure you kind of caught the Hokage when it came to the idea of romance. But all that proves for sure is that he’s a normal person who’s shitty at being married.”

“But he was so – you should’ve seen his face, he’d obviously been referring to someone other than his wife!”

“That’s one thing. Assuming that he was referring to your dad is something else entirely.”

Damn them. Damn them both.

Sarada walked home, seething all the way. They’d obviously had unrealistic expectations of her abilities! Oh sure, they’d probably figured, send Sarada in to do all the work. She’s so reliable all the time, gets great grades on exams, it just makes sense she’d be a natural at lying to the Hokage too!

It wasn’t Sarada’s fault that they thought she was a damn miracle worker! She tried her hardest, was incredibly uncomfortable the entire time, and somehow that doesn’t count for anything?

When she got home the porch and kitchen lights were on, shining through the window curtains to illuminate the small front yard. Sarada sighed in relief knowing that her mom was home. They hadn’t talked in quite some time, but maybe her mom’s schedule was calming back down again.

Slipping through the front door and toeing off her shoes, she called out, “I’m home!”

After talking with the Hokage, Sarada had brand new questions she needed answered. Who else had the Hokage had a romance with?

Her mom’s excited voice called back, “Welcome home, sweetie! I’m in the kitchen, dinner’s almost ready!”

Sarada smiled when she saw her mom in front of the stove, wearing the lopsided apron Sarada had attempted to sew in her early foray into crafting. “Hi mom, how was your day?”

What had the Hokage meant when he said he changed overnight to fall in love with Lady Hinata?

“Great!” She grinned, waving her hand to beckon Sarada closer. Once in reach, she pulled her into a one-armed hug, the other still stirring the bubbling pot. “We’re having curry, is that alright?”

“Sounds good to me.” Sarada sighed, squeezing her mom once before letting go to plop down at the kitchen table. “Why was your day great?”

“I finally got my assistant all trained up, so I’ll be able to work less!” Her mom grinned down at her. “Isn’t that great?”

“Mhmm,” Sarada answered distractedly.

How did her parents feel about their childhood friend’s seemingly sudden marriage?

“Is there something bothering you, sweetie?” Her mom set down a teacup in front of her, which Sarada sipped on half-heartedly.

“No, I just can’t shut my brain off…”

Her mom would know something, right? She’d been friends with the Hokage and her father since childhood, so maybe… but no, Sarada couldn’t drag her into this investigation.

“It’s about father and… the Hokage.” Damn her and her unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

If her mom felt surprised or suspicious at the questioning, she hid it well. “Oh, what about them?”

She should start shallow, working her way down until her mom felt more comfortable, rather than jumping in all at once. “Growing up, you said they were close?”

“Yes, very,” she answered, stirring away at a pot on the stove. “They acted like they hated each other, but really they just wanted each other’s attention.”

Before Sarada could go on there was a knock at the front door, followed by the sound of it opening.

“Sakura, you better have something stronger than tea,” her father’s voice called out. They stared at the doorway until her father rounded the corner into the kitchen, then froze. “Oh, hello… Sarada.”

“Hi,” she muttered, fiddling with her teacup. “How… was your day?”

“Fine,” he answered, still standing completely still. “Glad to see you’re… feeling better.”

Oh god, was he going to sit with her while mom finished making dinner? Was this weird family going to pretend to be functional for an evening? No, Sarada’s soul rebelled at the very thought.

Her father stared at her mom. They seemed to be having a conversation, and when Sarada’s mom suddenly said, “You better not, Uchiha, I swear to god–” Sarada was immediately on edge.

“Sarada, there’s something I’ve been meaning–”

“He should at least be here–”

“It’s been a long time coming, but I think we’ve finally–”

“STOP,” her mom shouted. She smiled sweetly at them both, making Sarada fear being suddenly lumped in with her father. A side glance showed that her father felt similarly afraid. “Sasuke sweetie, can we talk in the other room for a second?”

Her father looked like he’d just bit into a lemon, but he nodded. Taking the curry off the burner, her mom led the way out of the room without a backwards glance. Her father gave Sarada an apologetic look, then followed.

What had he been trying to say? Why was her mom keeping him quiet? Why did he look sorry?

They would hear her if she tried to follow them. As quietly as she could, Sarada performed an extended ear listening ninjutsu. It was something she’d learned near the back of a dusty reconnaissance book she’d found on the bottom shelf in the school library, and it proved incredibly useful for surveillance missions. This was just like any other. Tuning out the street noises and garden insects, Sarada could hear her parents whispering heatedly with one another.

“-and we’ve talked about this! It’s too soon!”

“But she and I have grown closer, just like you said! We’ve wanted to tell her for years, but you’ve always found a way to–”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me, Uchiha! We’ve been talking about it for years, but we both know she isn’t ready yet. Do you even know what might happen if you told her now?”

“No, and neither do you, despite what you think! We’ll never know for sure until we go ahead and do it.”

“Tact is a thing for a reason. You can’t just do something and hope it works out, you have to plan and make sure everyone involved is ready.”

“I’m not a simpleton, I know she’s ready.”

“NO, YOU – you don’t know that! What – don’t you think Naruto should be here for this?”

“Naruto doesn’t care how this happens! He just wants us to be closer, and that can’t happen unless–”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, laughing lowly. “You and I both know that’s not why.”

“…What do you mean?”

Sarada held her breath, afraid of missing a single detail. Her mom lowered her voice even further, words trembling.

“We both know that’s not the real reason you’ve been distant.”

“…Don’t.”

“We both know about that day at the hospital.”

“Sakura, not again–”

“I know what happened that day, why Naruto was the one there for her birth and not you. You’ve never wanted her, not like I have, and you don’t get to suddenly pretend like you do when we both know that even now, you still haven’t fully committed to being a father.”

Sarada couldn’t have breathed even if she’d wanted to.

“…Is that what you’ve really thought? All this time? Do you think I haven’t changed?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just – I’m upset and… That’s no excuse, that was too far, I’m… Please, Sasuke, you can’t do this to her – not yet. I need to know that you’re not going to…”

“What, do you think I’ll kill her? I can’t believe–”

Sarada couldn’t take any more of this. She ran for the front door, her pounding steps alerting her parents just in time for them to call out her name, but it was too late, she was gone. Sarada was sprinting down the street towards downtown, bumped into a few people and couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Upon seeing the main square of town, she took an immediate right.

If her parents came looking for her, they’d know where she’d typically go – Chouchou’s, training ground four, her mom may even know about the city roof tops. Instead she should go somewhere she hadn’t been in a while, like the Hokage monument or maybe even Mitsuki’s apartment. Boruto’s place wasn’t an option, as he wouldn’t leave her alone nor would he really be able to help. No, it would be better for her to go somewhere entirely new, but where…

Where could she go to think about this, to avoid all the concerned expressions and people staring at her tears?

------

The Uchiha compound was practically deserted at this hour, all the buildings dark and lifeless except the orphanage. This was a place people – her people – used to live. Human beings used to walk these streets with family and friends, tired after work and happy on anniversaries. This was where her father had grown up, the places he’d abandoned with the death of his clan members, and where land was cheapest for public works inside the city today.

Sarada kicked at a pebble as she walked, staring at her feet and not at the empty lots where homes once stood. She passed family gates but paid them no mind, too far inside her head to notice small nameplates on houses-turned-monuments.

She eventually came up on a densely wooded area, the tree line thick and inviting. She tentatively stepped up and into the forest, relieved at the prospect of true solitude. The deeper she went, the more she wondered about the histories of these trees, whether people met between them to train or have secret conversations. She wondered what her father had been like at her age, if he’d ever snuck out here to think, far from the noises of family and village life.

Thinking of her family made Sarada’s eyes sting. No, she couldn’t think about him like a person – he was a fact. Facts were manageable, didn’t require emotional transference. She needed to think about the facts of what she’d overheard and not how they were making her feel.

Her father had something he wanted to tell her – something he’s wanted to disclose for some time now, something that involved the Hokage. Her mom has prevented him from doing so for years, probably her whole life, and it’s incidentally contributed to the distance between her father and herself.

Then there was that part about her birth. She’d never known that the Hokage had been there, the idea somehow embarrassing her. But why had her father been absent? And his last comment… just what had her parents been through for her sake?

Sarada took in a fresh gulp of air, hand clenched in her shirt over her lungs. She needed to think this through more, but every thought was like a stabbing pain to her throat and stomach, made her head pound with her rushing pulse and legs feel unsteady. She needed to calm down, find somewhere to rest before she should consider this further.

She came upon a large gorge with a stream running hundreds of feet below. Walking along its edge, she spotted a fallen tree trunk stretching between the two cliffs. Knowing an invitation when she saw one, she crossed to the other side and ventured deeper into the forest. On a whim she began climbing a random tree, gripping branches and stepping between trunks, using her chakra control to move upwards.

She ignored when she stepped too hard, grabbed too forcefully, until finally she came upon one tree that stood far above its surrounding brethren. Conquering this small challenge, Sarada enjoyed her new vantage point. She could see the twinkling lights of Konoha in the distance, the blurry profiles of the Hokage monument and the steep peak of the Hokage Tower, whose lights stretched far above those of the city.

Sarada thought about her conversation with the Hokage, about how her biggest concern not two hours ago had been about his relationship with her father. While that was still a concern, there were other things she had to worry about. Why did her mom keep her father away for so long? What did he want to say? Had he ever tried to hurt her before, as implied by his last comment?

Nearly half an hour passed like this, with Sarada staring at the city from a distance, asking herself questions over and over again. She couldn’t go home, she just couldn’t, but she logically knew she couldn’t stay out here all night. Maybe Chouchou would be able to–

“Sarada!”

She jumped where she sat, head whipping down to see her father standing at the base of her tree.

“Go away!” She shouted, voice wobbly from disuse and nerves.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t care!”

“Please, will you listen?”

“No, just leave! It’s what you’re best at, right?”

Even at her height she could hear his huff of frustration. “Fine, I’ll come up to you?”

“What? No, don’t–”

But it was too late, he’d jumped up the branches to rest on one just below hers. He peered up at her in the dark, eye – eyes aimed at her. What was – did her dad have a purple eye?

“You have two eyes?” Sarada couldn’t help but blurt out. “I just always thought… I mean, you have one arm, so it’s not like it’s crazy to think…”

Her father smiled at her, the gesture small but meaningful. “It’s a safe assumption, yes,” he answered, shoving his hair from behind his ear to cover the strange eye once more. “It can see through my hair, but sometimes I move it aside out of habit anyway.”

“Oh…”

Well that was odd… Now what?

Her father sighed, shifting his weight ever so slightly. He was nervous. “I wanted to talk to you about – well, about a few things. But we don’t have much time. I spoke with your mother for some time, but she’s probably on her way by now.”

She scowled. “What were you talking about this time?”

“She doesn’t want me to tell you… things, which I have to respect. You and I both know that she has more authority than I do over you.” He sighed, then went on. “But there are some things I need to clarify, regardless of what she may think.”

“Like… what?”

Her father took a deep breath, closed his eye – probably both – and then asked, “You overheard us tonight, right?”

She hesitated to meet his intense expression, a pang of guilt over her snooping hitting her for the first time. “Yes, I did.”

“What part made you react badly?”

All of it. “What did you want to tell me tonight?”

“I can’t say,” he answered, shaking his head. “Your mom and I have to agree on that before I can tell you.”

“Did mom ever… keep you away from me? On purpose?”

He sighed, looking away for several moments before responding. “Yes, but only when you were really young, and for your own good. Most of it… ninety-percent of the time, I was holding myself back.”

Eyes stinging again, Sarada choked out, “But why?”

“Why what?”

There it was, the perfect opportunity to ask the question she’d been dying to have answered for her entire life. “Why did you stay away?”

She saw his hand clench into a fist, his shoulders stiffen, his expression go serious. “For a short time, I was afraid of hurting you. Then when I knew I wouldn’t, that I had control over myself, seeing you was… too sad.”

She futilely swiped at her tears as they threatened to spill over. “Why were you sad?”

“You reminded me of so many things I lost, so many things I wanted but couldn’t have. But you’re so…” He made some vague gesture with his hand, but sighed as he gave up on it. “You’re so far from everything I expected, everything that would’ve made it easy for me to keep ignoring you.”

That was a small consolation. “Things you lost?”

Her father paused, looked as if he’d evade the question, but instead explained, “There was a time where I had absolutely no one and nothing except for anger… and the Hokage, in a way.”

Why were they always – now wasn’t the time.

He went on. “I lost my family, my entire clan, at a very young and impressionable age. For a while I wanted to be alone to become strong, but it made me miserable. Then friends helped me realize that I could be strong through other people. I grew up. Ever since then I’ve come to value connections with others, wanted a kind of family – not the one I used to have, but a new one. A better one. But you and your mom…” He visibly hesitated, looked ashamed as he finished, “You’re not the family I ever expected, nor the family I truly wanted.”

Sarada knew she was crying at this point, but she didn’t care about hiding it anymore. Why hide from a man that never wanted to see you in the first place?

“Why are you telling me this?” She sniffled, staring down at her lap. She could tell that his version of events was extremely abridged. He never talked that much, and rarely did so about himself. Despite her own pain she appreciated his honesty.

“Because that’s how I used to feel.” He reached out to her, place his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “Sarada, please believe me when I say that I want you and Sakura in my life – as my family, now. I know I’m late, and I know I’ve missed so much, but…”

He tried again, but this time Sarada let his hand stay. “I would be honored if you’d allow me in your life – in any capacity.”

Sarada wiped at her wet cheeks. “I don’t need a father, I never have. Mom does an amazing job without you.”

“She does.”

She wanted to forget all about that overheard conversation. She wanted to be able to revel in her father’s candor and pester him about his rebellious youth. She was so damn tired, she just wanted a normal moment. So instead of continuing to fight, she gave into the tiredness and answered, “I need to think about it.”

The tension in her father’s shoulders relaxed. Thankfully, her answer seemed to be the right one. “That’s perfectly fine. I’m just relieved you’re still talking to me.”

She gave him a wobbly half-smile. “For now, old man.”

He chuckled – honest to god, chuckled at that. “You’re right, I am old. I’m far too old to be climbing trees in the middle of the night. It’s been quite some time…”

Sarada still had questions, but just then her mom’s shout rang out. “Sasuke I swear to god, I’ll eviscerate you if you dared mention any of what we talked about!”

“She’s scary when she’s mad,” he muttered, side-eyeing Sarada. He shouted down, “Calm down, of course I didn’t!”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down you goddamn dick! If Sarada cried even a single tear I will personally cut off your balls and feed them to Tsunade’s slugs!”

Her father looked genuinely worried at that. Without thinking, Sarada said, “I won’t apologize for having feelings. Deal with your punishment.”

He laughed – again – and muttered, “Come on, let’s head down.”

“We’re coming down,” Sarada shouted to her mom.

On their way down, she heard her mom threatening her father, telling him to leave Konoha for a few days otherwise she’d kill him and possible everything he loved. He agreed easily enough, explaining that he had some errands to run anyway and had been meaning to visit the village hidden in the sand for some weeks. Sensing how tired she was, Sarada’s mom only asked whether or not she was okay, whether she wanted her to punch her father into the afterlife, and what flavor of ice cream she wanted when they got home. Aside from that, her mom slipped her hand into Sarada’s and talked with her father. Her mom threw superficial insults and threats over her head, only to be met with shrugs and acceptance from her father.

Sarada focused on recovering, on feeling her mom’s hand in hers and knowing, despite what she’d heard, that she was always on her side. She could’ve thought about where her father was on the day of her birth, why her mom kept them apart for her early childhood. She could’ve contemplated the Hokage’s role in all of this and how that factored into her secret mission. She easily could’ve rushed her parents home to call Chouchou and update her on everything that’d happened, about how her father genuinely seemed to care about her now and how that might make her feel.

There were a lot of things Sarada could’ve done, but instead she decided to just enjoy having two parents at the end of a long night.

Chapter Text

Knowing that her father would be gone for a while, Sarada began considering her other options. Moving forward, she still had so many more questions than answers. Before that night she’d known that the Hokage’s marriage really was rocky, that Lady Hinata was a distant figure all but locked away in an ivory tower. She’d known her parents were married but not in love, and that the Hokage’s definition of romantic love may or may not extend to his wife.

Now she had even more information. Both of her parents were complicit in keeping her father away for all those years, her father genuinely wanted to know her, and there was something he wanted to tell her that involved the Hokage, but her mom didn’t want her to know quite yet. Did her parents’ own unconventional relationship have anything to do with the Hokage’s? There was so much left to know, but hopefully it would all be clear soon. Sarada’s brain was practically flat-lining at considering the possibilities and implications behind it all, and frankly she could use a distraction.

“Phase four?”

“Yes,” Sarada explained. “We’re going to begin Phase Four.”

It had been over a week since her father left, and they’d made no significant progress on their mission. Heck, they hadn’t even met up to officially discuss it. After the Hokage’s Office Fiasco – Boruto and Chouchou had seen it as a dead-end, while Sarada was convinced she’d gleaned useful information – they’d been at a stand-still on how best to proceed.

It didn’t help matters that Boruto was more distant these days, playing with friends after school and sometimes ignoring Sarada’s in-class notes. Sometimes she’d catch him staring at her, but he’d quickly turn away and act as if nothing had happened. He seemed... upset, maybe? She didn’t pretend to understand how that Neanderthal’s mind worked.

Well, whatever. They didn’t need him. She and Chouchou could make up for lost time all on their own. Today, hidden away on the school roof during lunch, that’s exactly what they were doing.

Chouchou laughed, stuffing more chips in her mouth. “This mission is somehow organized? And into phases, no less?”

Sarada pushed aside her empty food containers and pulled out a piece of paper, then began drawing a timeline. “Think about it. The first phase was me talking with you over lunch and recruiting Boruto – albeit accidentally – which subsequently led to confronting my mom at the hospital and learning about my parents’ true relationship. Next was Boruto’s confrontation with his mom, which raised questions about her own understanding of her marriage. Phase three was when I confronted the Hokage, which showed us that the Hokage loves someone who isn’t his wife–”

“That’s still a baseless allegation for me. We need more proof before–”

“And now we’re on phase four,” Sarada went on with an eye roll. “We need to backtrack a bit because my father is currently unavailable.” More like her mom threatened him out of the village, and he went along with it with little fuss.

“Backtrack?” Chouchou focused on the timeline before her. “Are we re-interviewing someone?”

“Yes, Lady Hinata,” Sarada announced with a proud smile, drawing a curved arrow to connect the two points.

“Don’t look so smug, we both know you’re the ideas gal.” Chouchou smiled and pushed her shoulder playfully. “But I’m still lost, why are we talking to her again?”

“Don’t you see? She was probably lying to Boruto!” It was Chouchou’s turn to roll her eyes, as they’d had this conversation too many times to count by now. “I’ve been dwelling a lot – probably an unhealthy amount – on what we’ve learned so far, so hear me out. My mom is totally honest with me and my dad is currently MIA, plus we just dealt with the Hokage. We could try to interview other people, but they might tell our parents. That’s a risk we can’t afford before we get everything we can out of them directly. The only way we can go forward is by backtracking through Lady Hinata – and let’s face it, her shaky story is worth revisiting, right?”

“Okay Uchiha, you’ve got me interested at the very least.” Chouchou laid out on her back, staring up at the sky. “I never liked her story last time anyway, you know that. But Boruto isn’t going to like this, not a second time.”

“No, I don’t...” Sarada swallowed nervously at the thought. She could still remember Boruto’s face after he’d finished interviewing his mom, how shaky he’d seemed when he’d hugged Sarada for some small bit of comfort. “I don’t even want to involve him this time. He was so hurt last time we did this, I don’t want him...”

“I understand, and I agree.” Chouchou yawned, closing her eyes. “So tell me all about your master plan.”

Halfway into her explanation Mitsuki opened the door to the rooftop. Surprised at the sudden intrusion, Sarada grabbed the timeline and promptly lit it on fire. After a few beats of silence, everyone watching the paper go up in flames and its ashes smolder, Mitsuki said, “Class is starting soon.” Chouchou looked delighted at Sarada’s lack of control, while Sarada felt... embarrassed. Mitsuki’s glare wasn’t helping.

“You guys sure are secretive these days.”

They packed up their stuff, Sarada not knowing what to say to make what she’d just done normal. Chouchou, ever the master of brushing things off nonchalantly, pat Mitsuki’s shoulder as she passed him. “It’s girl stuff, pipsqueak. And trust me, it gets real gross.”

Mitsuki muttered something under his breath as he followed them back to the classroom. Sarada felt guilty for excluding her teammate, a person she genuinely liked, but she was reluctant to involve him. Having too many people on the case would jeopardize their secrecy, make them stand out more. It would also compromise their ability to plan things, as too many opinions during planning would add complications Sarada would rather avoid. She already had enough trouble making sure Chouchou and Boruto didn’t create too much friction when they butted heads, so adding a third person might create very real, very irritating chaos.

He was a loner, so keeping Mitsuki away from their little operation wasn’t currently difficult. But if he became more suspicious and decided to start following them it could threaten the stability of their entire operation. She’d have to throw him off, maybe start casually talking with him more. She could sic Boruto on him as a distraction while she and Chouchou continued with the mission – or even underwent their own secret one – since he seemed intent on not meeting with them anyway.

Back in her seat, Sarada turned to Boruto to tell him about Mitsuki’s apparent suspicions, but he was already glaring at her.

“What, is there something on my face?”

“You and Chouchou are weird these days,” he said, pouting childishly. “Where’d you go during lunch? And with Mitsuki?”

“The roof. To discuss... girl – girl things?” God bless Chouchou and her easy explanations, and damn Sarada’s inability to casually pull them off. “Mitsuki just got us for class.”

Boruto grit his teeth, but didn’t comment. “Whatever.” He turned back to the front, obviously planning on ignoring her again in favor of Shino-sensei. While Sarada would normally support such a devotion to higher learning, she found she was only irritated.

“Are you mad at me?” She grabbed his sleeve to get back his attention.

“No. Now let go.”

“I can tell you’re mad about something.”

“Let go, come on–”

“Shut up you idiots,” Mitsuki cut in, kicking the back of Boruto’s chair with a smile. “Class is starting.”

Boruto gave Sarada a look that said, “See what you did? You made me look bad!” Sarada didn’t care.

“If you’re upset about something, you can tell me,” Sarada whispered, leaning in so she could be heard. “Talking is better than ignoring the problem, right?”

“...Later, okay?” She’d never noticed before, but Boruto had really pink ears. The weather was getting warmer after all.

After class Mitsuki waved goodbye at the school gates, as they had no missions today. Sarada watched him walk away, making sure that he wasn’t going to give them any backwards glances. Boruto asked her what crawled up her butt and died, but she ignored him. Eventually Chouchou joined them and together they made their way through town, walking in the general direction of their usual training ground.

“So Sarada and I were talking–”

“Hah, I knew it!” Boruto shouted. “You guys are doing things without me!”

“...I mean yeah, we do most things without you. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Shut – I mean mission things! Secret mission planning things! Why’re you doing things without asking me, hah?”

“We’re not doing anything,” Sarada muttered. “We’re only planning”

“Whatever.” Boruto crossed his arms and frowned at them both. “Either way it’s annoying so stop, okay?”

Sarada and Chouchou shared a sideways glace. While she’d eventually have to tell him about their plan for Lady Hinata, there were some things Sarada was hesitant to involve Boruto in, specifically things involving her suspicions regarding their fathers. There was no way they were about to reveal that quite yet, as they had no idea how Boruto would react to the idea of his father and his sensei... like that.

“I said stop it!” He stomped his foot in his anger, reminding Sarada of just how childish he could be. “You’re doing that thing again! The looks and the shrugs – it’s – it’s infuriating!”

Chouchou rolled her eyes and started going on about Boruto improving his vocabulary. It seemed they’d have to learn to be more discreet if they were going to have a consensus while in Boruto’s presence. The two of them kept arguing all the way to the training ground – bad student this, imagining things that. When they arrived Boruto was even more upset, which was merely a little funny this time.

“I’m not asking for a million dollars or the moon or something! Just stop being so – so secretive! I’m on your side – it’s our side, remember?”

“Like I said, nothing weird is going on, little man. I know you have a hard time rubbing your two brain cells together to make coherent sentences, but you’re going to have to be. More. Specific.”

“What?”

Sarada decided to intervene, as Chouchou didn’t seem to be helping their cause anymore. “Alright, you caught us.”

Chouchou looked to her in confused betrayal while Boruto looked thoroughly vindicated.

“I knew it! So what is it, what’s the secret?” He asked excitedly, smug smile making Sarada nervous. She knew he’d hate this, but how else was she supposed to steer him away from her and Chouchou’s secret mission? But well, people always say there’s no time like the present, and she’d been planning on telling him eventually anyway...

“We want to backtrack a little bit in our mission, double-check some of the sources we’d previously consulted.”

Boruto sighed. “What, go back a phase or two?”

Sarada gave Chouchou a smug look. Even Boruto knew about the phases. “Exactly.” As she explained her idea to speak with Lady Hinata directly, Boruto’s face when from excited to surprised, then entirely blank. “So I’ve been thinking about a few questions we could ask her, and I think it might be best for us to just–”

“Count me out,” Boruto declared, backing away from their group. “You guys do this on your own.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with Sarada’s plan, hah?”

Boruto avoided eye contact, stepping back even more. “I’m not interrogating my mom again. And why are we even doing this, huh? I don’t get why we’re still talking to my parents about anything, we basically know everything we need to, why can’t we just leave them alone?”

“It’s not like that, really!” Sarada tried to calm him down, but he was starting to look upset again. “You won’t have to–”

“No, I’m not helping with this.” Boruto shook his head, gave Sarada a hurt glance, then turned and walked away. “Find me when you’re done. Let me know what you find out.” And with that, he left.

“What the hell?” Chouchou muttered. “Why is he being such a pill?”

“We knew he wouldn’t take it well,” Sarada sighed, watching him go. Shoulder’s stiff, hands in pockets, he was exhibiting one of his classic defensive postures. “I couldn’t think of anything else to get him off our backs. We kind of knew he’d react this way anyway.”

“Yeah, but he’s been on edge all day.” Chouchou crossed her arms and leaned back against a nearby tree. “I mean, if someone’s looking for a fight then I’ll give it to them, but even I was getting annoyed with our usual arguing today.”

“Wow, so now you know what it’s like to be me?”

“Shut up,” Chouchou laughed. “It’s his loss, anyway, He just lost any say he might’ve had over how we do this.” She shrugged and sighed. “So how’re we going to interrogate Lady Hinata this time?”

Chapter Text

“Would it helped if we increased your supplements?”

“Maybe? I’m thinking about changing around some of my other medications, the side effects are always a little… I’ll let you know after I consult with my other doctors. The medications…”

“You can talk to me, what is it?”

“I don’t think they help me at all. Actually, I think they make me worse. I get upset so easily, and the rest of the time I’m just tired.”

“I know what pills you’re talking about and trust me, those are the normal side effects of that particular compound. It’s a common patient complaint, but that’s the best modern medicine has right now.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

“You can talk to me.”

“…Some days I don’t take them and I feel much better.”

“…”

“…Tanaka-san?”

“…Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

“No, no one else. I trust you. Why do you ask?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay quiet–”

“But then how will I–?”

“They have your best interests at heart. I know the side effects are bad, but trust me when I say that the medication is doing more good than harm. So don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell the Hyuuga doctors that you’ve skipped dosages. We don’t know what they might… Just please, don’t.”

===========

A nearby crow cried out, making Sarada jump and drop her notebook.

“Stop being so antsy,” Chouchou hissed. “We told her we’re coming, there’s no reason to be jumpy.”

“I know...” Sarada trailed off, grabbing her notebook while eyeing their surroundings carefully.

The Hyuuga compound was the same as always. The outer walls were just tall enough, just thick enough to stop the modern tide of Konoha from invading the pristine island. Escorted by an attendant and moving deeper into the complex, the silent exteriors of homes and polished gardens put Sarada on edge. She and Chouchou had chosen the early afternoon for this meeting in the hope that people would be at work or running errands. As they were the only people in sight, it seemed as if Sarada’s hunch had paid off.

Something about this place rubbed her the wrong way, but she couldn’t pin down exactly why. Maybe it was the way the family so obviously had old money, making her fear sneezing and breaking the wrong manicured hedge with her monster strength. Maybe it was the way a single person – probably an attendant – went about their business, but stopped and stared as the outsiders walked by. It could be the way their attendant didn’t truly look at them, leading them forward with the type of smile seen in the hospitality industry and eyes that only lingered long enough to look past them. It was all quite foreboding.

Just before reaching the largest building – what must be the main house – they veered off to the left, toward a building that was only familiar because Sarada had stared at it from a tree not too long ago. At the doorway, their attendant stepped back. “You may enter. I shall return with refreshments.” With that, she left.

Alone with Chouchou, Sarada grabbed her arm for support. “Is it just me, or is this place super creepy?”

Chouchou made a face, then looked pointedly at the happy blue sky and nearby ornamental plants. “Yes. Terrifying,” she deadpanned.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I mean, this place is as irritatingly perfect as Lady Hinata herself, but other than that I don’t think–”

The front door slid open suddenly, making both of them jump this time.

“Hello girls,” Lady Hinata greeted. Wearing a soft purple yukata and her hair down, she struck a pretty picture even in her house slippers. “I’m so happy Boruto’s friends are visiting me! That boy, sometimes I don’t know what he gets up to.”

Chouchou recovered first and laughed softly. “Yeah, we don’t either.”

She smiled. “Well, come inside! Let’s get comfortable.”

Under the guise of an expose for the inaugural issue of a school newspaper, Sarada and Chouchou had extended the invitation for an interview to Lady Hinata. She’d replied to their letter within the day, telling them to stop by whenever they wanted, that she couldn’t wait to tell them all about living in this modern age as a clan heiress. Chouchou had come up with the interview topic, which Sarada had worried was a tad too on-the-nose, but at least this way they’d be able to justify their more probing questions.

Exchanging their shoes for slippers, they moved further into Lady Hinata’s house. The inside was all dark wood and cream walls, every surface spotless and shiny. Even though Sarada knew Boruto and Himawari visited this place regularly, there was a distinct lack of evidence that kids lived here. There were no stray toys, no laundry bins, and barely any pictures on the walls. The way this space was so unfurnished, so bare, gave Sarada an even greater feeling of unease. They were led deeper into the house by a quiet Lady Hinata, all the way to a wide tatami room overlooking that placid pond Sarada hadn’t ever really stopped thinking about.

Entering the room, Sarada and Chouchou both gasped. The walls were actually a series of sliding doors; they were made of a paper so thin it was likely translucent, but one could hardly tell because of the intricately painted murals covering every single inch of the surface. Sarada’s eyes jumped from scene to scene, taking in the monkeys in hot springs, farmers in fields with trees, all together with swirling flowers and leaves and rocks and clouds. It was jarring to go from such a sterile home to a room overrun with color and expression.

“Wow, this is so beautiful.” Sarada approached the wall in awe, running her shaking fingers over the swirls of a straw hat, fingers scant millimeters from the wall’s surface. She was too afraid of breaking it to touch.

“Thank you, that’s kind of you,” Lady Hinata said, shuffling over to a low table, giving the walls a passing glance. She seemed much more interested in sitting down.

“Who painted these?” Chouchou asked, giving the room a cursory look.

“I did. Painting is something of a hobby of mine, you see. Once I was more confident in my abilities I attempted the walls. It was so exhilarating!”

“Are walls more difficult or something? Since they’re vertical?”

“They’re unforgiving,” Lady Hinata smiled wistfully. “The paper is thin and unabsorbent, forcing you to use a light, thin paint that the material can only just absorb and that won’t tear the paper. This means it bleeds easily, so you must be very patient and confident in your strokes. It’s so thin that mistakes can’t be painted over, they’ll always be visible there.”

Sarada stepped back from the wall when she realized the others were already sitting. “That’s very poetic of you, Lady Hinata,” she muttered, staring at the murals as she claimed the remaining cushion next to Chouchou. Now that she knew to look for them, several mistakes stood out to Sarada even at a distance. Some of the figures were disproportionate, some objects slightly misshapen and colors that bled outside of their forms. The evidence of human error made the room even more dissonant from the rest of the house.

Lady Hinata aimed her pretty smile at her. “That’s nice of you, Sarada. What can I say, I have a lot of time, and poetry is best suited for those with enough time to properly appreciate it.”

The attendant returned, carrying a tray laden with tea, sandwiches, and cookies. She arranged the plates on the table and asked if they would be needing anything else. When Lady Hinata said they were fine, she bowed and took her leave.

“Don’t most heiresses learn artsy stuff like poetry and painting?” Chouchou asked, picking back up the thread of their original purpose. She elbowed Sarada’s side and motioned for her to open up her notebook. It was time to pretend to take notes. “Is it like a free-time thing, or more like a work thing?”

Lady Hinata’s smile didn’t waver. “While I am the eldest child in the Hyuuga main family and am thus technically an heiress, I have not been the true heiress for many years. That role has fallen to my sister, which she does wonderfully. I’m relieved to have someone so strong take on such an important role.”

Sarada scribbled random words as messily as she could, just in case Lady Hinata asked to see her notes. “Yes, but you’re still a prominent member of the family! And since you’re Boruto’s mom we thought you’d be the best person to talk to.”

“Of course, I completely understand! I’m very excited to help you girls with your article, I think it’s a fabulous idea to have a school newspaper. The Konoha school system is so different from when I was your age, but I feel this change is for the best–”

As Lady Hinata went on, Sarada nodded along while Chouchou slipped in their prepared questions. Lady Hinata answered them happily enough, going off on small stories when they had to do with her point. She seemed eager to talk, probably unaccustomed to visitors that weren’t direct family or doctors. Sometimes she’d take a few moments to think through her response, choosing her words carefully, but never suspiciously so. She seemed to value her words, choosing them for efficiency and clarity rather than to hide something. Sarada wondered not for the first time how she and Boruto could possibly be related.

She remembered one time when Boruto had said, “My mom is normal, like really normal,” and Sarada couldn’t help but agree. While obviously smart and well-versed in cultural arts, Lady Hinata didn’t have one major distinguishing feature. There was no hobby or interest discussed that made Sarada want to latch on and run with it, but instead she enjoyed their conversation like one would a lazy afternoon in the shade.

As Lady Hinata talked Sarada wanted to contribute, which got Chouchou joining in, until pretty soon they were all simply chatting, the veneer of an interview partially forgotten. Sarada was so busy chatting that she almost forgot the second part of their plan.

“Excuse me, but where is the bathroom?” She cut in. Sarada felt as if she disturbed a long-settled peace as she stood carefully from her cushion. She felt the need to walk around a bit to clear the fog from her head.

“Ah, it’s to the left, on the right side of the hall.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right back,” she said, handing her notebook to Chouchou and giving her a look. She nodded.

The first part of their plan was to ask Lady Hinata questions that would lead towards her marriage, but that had fallen through with Sarada and Chouchou’s apparent distractibility. To get things back on track, Sarada would go on to part two and circle back to finish part one afterwards. It was time to snoop.

Obviously they didn’t expect some discarded love letter to elucidate everything all in one fell swoop, but Sarada was secretly hoping for something as easy as that. In the hall, she could easily hear Lady Hinata talking, but couldn’t tell exactly what she was saying. The paper was thicker than expected, but she still stepped carefully, not wanting her wandering path to be overheard. She also hoped the attendant wasn’t still in the house.

There were no doorways between her and the bathroom, so Sarada kept walking. She passed by a state-of-the-art kitchen, another sitting room, a closet with various blankets. Going in a different direction, she found Lady Hinata’s bedroom, but couldn’t bring herself to do much more than peer through the doorway. The space was pristine, whites and light blues decorating everything. The surfaces were all empty and clean, everything put tidily away, the bed wide enough for two people. Further down the hall was another empty room, probably where Boruto and Himawari slept when they stayed over.

Nothing was remotely suspicious. The house was as well-maintained as one would expect of a Hyuuga ex-heiress, the furnishings high-quality but understated. Unfortunately, there were no loose love letters in sight.

Sarada sighed and rubbed at her incoming headache. She may as well use the bathroom while she was up.

On her way back to the hall bathroom, she wondered if she’d missed anywhere. As she passed by Lady Hinata’s bedroom from the other direction, she spotted a doorway off to the side. She saw a mirror and a sink.

It made sense that she’s have her own bathroom. It wasn’t inherently suspicious, but in these older, family-style homes is was certainly a rarity. Looking for just about any lead, she sighed and made her decision.

Sarada carefully stepped over the bedroom threshold and tiptoed her way over to the bathroom. Thankfully the wood floors didn’t creak, and Sarada found herself in the bathroom, confident that she hadn’t alerted anyone to her position.

In here, she finally found a messy, lived-in space. Like the bedroom, the bathroom had all modern furnishings and decorations. The countertop and sink had various bottles and pastes around it, toothpaste stains in the sink basin giving Lady Hinata a humanity that Sarada had previously feared she’d lacked.

Next she noticed the mirrors. On the wall perpendicular to the main mirror was another, smaller one, typically used as a medicine cabinet. The unobtrusive cabinet was slightly ajar, bringing Sarada to an internal dilemma. This was a horrible breach of privacy, and if anyone came looking for her…

Sarada touched the backside of the mirror near the bottom to edge it open, moving more confidently when she heard no squeaking from the hinges. Watching her fingers to make sure she left no prints on the reflective surface, she carefully tapped it open. Inside the mirror’s cabinet was a very full storage space: several clear vials, bottles of nearly every color, a few brown containers of various medications.

Sarada could see the Hyuuga family doctor’s logo on the lids – on all but one. A red bottle stood out from the surrounding green, and Sarada knew instantly where it was from. The chemical compound’s name told Sarada it was one of her mom’s more basic vitamin D supplements. Why go to a separate institution for a pill you could easily get from your own personal doctors?

Looking at the Hyuuga bottles more closely, there were some compounds that even Sarada didn’t recognize. The longer she was prying in this silence, the more paranoid she became. She grabbed a tissue to rotate the bottles, then took pictures of the now visible labels with her phone. She rotated each bottle back when she replaced them, breaths fast with nervousness. She’d have to do some research, but she was curious about the medications Lady Hinata took despite staying so sickly, and why she was receiving medication from two different doctors.

Sarada stepped back into the bedroom and then the hallway, making her way back to the main room. She stopped in the hall bathroom to close the door quietly and flush the toilet for consistency’s sake, ran the sink for a short while, and then made her way back to the sitting room.

“Hello there,” Lady Hinata greeted, smiling and kindly not commenting on what she likely thought to be a rather lengthy bowel movement.

Chouchou also smiled, but her eyes looked serious. “We just started talking about the Hokage.”

Chouchou was a miracle worker. “Oh, really?” she asked, reclaiming her seat and ignoring how her phone felt heavier in her pocket.

“Yes, Chouchou tells me you see my husband quite often!”

“Oh, well – yeah, I guess sometimes I go to the Hokage Tower.”

“To help with paperwork, right? I’m so incredibly grateful for your helping him. My poor husband is so busy all the time, so I’m sure you bring a much needed brightness to his days.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Sarada laughed nervously, unused to such direct praise from an adult that wasn’t a teacher or her mom.

“Don’t be modest,” Chouchou said, poking her side. “Everyone knows you help him a lot.”

Sarada saw an opportunity and took it. “Lady Hinata, do you see the Hokage often?”

There was a beat of silence, two, then she answered, “What do you mean? He’s my husband.”

Despite the vague answer, Sarada was terrified that she’d offended the subject of their interrogation. “I mean – he’s the Hokage and you seem so busy with clan affairs – all the responsibilities must be… exhausting.”

“It’s true, we don’t see much of each other these days,” she sighed, defenses lowering. “But we’ve always understood each other so well, there’s no need to see each other if we’re both busy.”

No need? No need? But didn’t love make you want to spend time with the other person? Sarada wondered about how love transformed when you were an adult, if people that’d been married for over a decade preferred being busy to seeing their partners. Did people prefer to prioritize work over emotional intimacy? She wondered if that was how love was for everyone, or if the Hokage and his wife were the exception. Surely this physical and emotional distance didn’t exist in every marriage, right?

She thought of Uncle Sai visiting Auntie Ino at the café just to say hi. Auntie had run flour through his hair, then when he was distracted she slapped his ass to leave a bright white hand print. He hadn’t even been irritated, just laughed and bent slightly so she could more easily get the other cheek. She thought of Chouchou’s parents and how they made time for a family dinner every night. She thought of her own parents, about how they weren’t in love but still obviously got along and even enjoyed each other’s company, their bickering more of a fond habit than anything truly antagonistic.

Compared with that scene she’d seen on their anniversary? No, not every marriage was like the Hokage’s.

“I suppose,” Chouchou answered, effectively cutting off anything Sarada had been about to say. “So his role as Hokage and your role as an heiress keep you both occupied. How often would you say you see him?”

Lady Hinata paused, but then seemed to answer honestly, “Perhaps once a month? About that often, maybe less if he’s especially stressed.”

Sarada was speechless, so it was up to Chouchou to follow up with, “Has it always been like that?”

“Sadly, yes. We got married shortly before his responsibilities increased. Although he’s only been Hokage for a few years, he’s given his job all his attention for as long as I can remember. Why, one time he even–”

Sarada didn’t know why they’d ever thought Lady Hinata would be shy around strangers. She was soft-spoken, but incredibly chatty. Maybe the Hokage had more of an effect on her than they’d previously though. They’d sent in Boruto that first time for nothing.

Chouchou was still holding Sarada’s notebook, so she scribbled something on it before passing it back. So as not to draw attention, Sarada waited until Lady Hinata was talking about hers and the Hokage’s anniversary to glance down at the note. She’d thought it would be something cryptic or damning, but instead it was just “wat the FUCCC” underlined three times.

“–We actually stopped by Ino’s shop, it was so sweet. He’s always so charming, getting people to laugh along with him. That is something I miss some days–”

Recalling the anniversary in question, the event that threw Sarada face-first into this quest for answers, Lady Hinata was either entirely deluded about what charm meant or she was blatantly lying to them. She was far too perceptive to be so gullible, so Sarada favored the latter interpretation. Was there a way to get her to slip up and tell them even a small piece of the truth?

“My parents like to have private anniversary celebrations,” Chouchou said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, they do some pretty mushy, couple-y stuff that’d probably gross other people out. They don’t want to make a whole restaurant lose their lunches, you know?”

Lady Hinata laughed and Sarada internally cheered Chouchou’s ability to make others comfortable. She then immediately undermined that appreciation when she turned to Sarada and asked, “What do your parents do on their anniversary, Sarada?”

Almost too distracted at her own indignation – Chouchou knew her parents were never together, damn her – she almost missed it. But there it was, a small waver in Lady Hinata’s smile.

Chouchou was far smarter than she gave herself credit for. After all, if Sarada’s wildest theories were correct and Lady Hinata had been purposefully lying about her relationship with the Hokage… well, then she wouldn’t like Sarada’s father, whose very existence disproved everything she insisted was true. If she and the Hokage were so awkward every time they reunited, then what did it mean that he and her father were so comfortable together?

“You know, I don’t really know,” Sarada answered. She tried to watch Lady Hinata’s every movement without seeming too obvious or suspicious. “He’s cold to a lot of people, but he’s nice to me and my mom. And the Hokage, of course.”

There is was again! If Sarada hadn’t been looking she would’ve missed the way Lady Hinata’s lips tipped down at the side. If something happens once then it’s chance, twice is a coincidence, but three times…

“Oh – that’s right! If you grew up with the Hokage, then you also grew up with my father, right? I don’t see him much, do you know anything about him?”

This time her smile all but disappeared. Three times is a pattern.

“I didn’t talk to him much growing up,” she explained, refilling her teacup. “He mostly kept to himself, as did I. Neither of us were particularly outgoing in our youths.”

Sarada called bullshit. “Well, what about his relationship with the Hokage?”

Lady Hinata blinked a few times, then smiled. “Oh, they’ve always been close friends – like brothers, in fact.” Sarada felt offended on behalf of her father and his theoretical romance. “They have a connection very few of us understand, but all that matters is that they themselves do.”

What the heck was that supposed to even mean?

“I don’t really get it,” Chouchou muttered. “So they’re close, and you’re married to the Hokage, but you don’t know much about Mr. Uchiha?”

Lady Hinata’s smile was starting to grate on Sarada’s nerves. “I’m afraid so, I apologize.”

Damn. Claiming ignorance was a smart move. Sarada couldn’t fault her for taking the easy way out.

Before Sarada could offer some follow-up questions, something to maybe put her off balance enough to let something slip, the door to the room burst open. In came a woman wearing white robes and a stethoscope. She had the typical pale Hyuuga eyes, so she was likely one of the Hyuuga family doctors. She bowed, then rushed to Lady Hinata’s side.

“Lady Hinata, I hear you’ve had guests over for quite some time. Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?”

Lady Hinata gently batted away her fretting hands. “Oh, I don’t need another check-up, I’m fine! You all worry far too much. We’re having a wonderful time, right girls?”

The doctor turned to look at them for the first time, a small frown on her face. “Oh – hello there… children.”

“Hello, adult,” Chouchou sassed. Sarada waved.

“These are my son’s classmates, Akimichi Chouchou and Uchiha Sarada,” Lady Hinata explained.

The doctor’s eyebrow rose. “Uchiha, eh? Haven’t seen one of them around here in a while.”

Sarada couldn’t help but quip, “Yes, well, we are a rare species these days.”

Thank god Chouchou laughed, otherwise Sarada would’ve regretted her rudeness.

“Well, it’s certainly getting late,” the doctor said, ignoring Sarada’s comment entirely. “If you girls wouldn’t mind, Lady Hinata needs to have a short check-up now, so it would be best if you left.”

Another woman bowed and came in the room, this one holding a small plastic box with the Hyuuga seal on the side. “Oh… children,” she said upon noticing Sarada and Chouchou. What, had these Hyuuga people never seen a proper kid before?

“Over here nurse,” the doctor ordered. “Put the kit down and show these children to the door, hm?”

“Of course, ma’am–”

“Don’t be ridiculous! They’re my guests, I’ll see them out,” Lady Hinata huffed, standing and walking out of the room without a backwards glance. Sarada and Chouchou hurried to follow her, barely bowing to the remaining medical staff before rushing out of the room.

Once they were alone, Lady Hinata sighed. “I must apologize for my staff, they don’t realize when their overprotectiveness is rude. I’m sorry our interview got cut short–” Oh yeah, they’d been conducting an interview… “–but hopefully you girls got enough for your article?”

“We did Lady Hinata, thank you so much for taking the time to meet with us,” Sarada said. Back at the front door, she and Chouchou slipped on their shoes, Lady Hinata watching them with her arms crossed. None of them seemed to know the intermediary step between that moment and leaving, so they stood looking at each other for a few moments.

“Well, thank you again–”

“If you’re interested in your father,” Lady Hinata said suddenly, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “You should talk to the Hokage. I know he’s usually busy, but I’m sure he’d make time for you girls.”

But not for his wife? God, adults were weird.

“Maybe, I’m not sure–”

“No, you must – please, try,” she said, oddly intense all of a sudden. “I’m sure he’d be able to answer any questions you have.”

Was she trying to be... helpful? Confused at her uncharacteristic insistence, Sarada decided not to push her luck. “Well, thanks for the advice, I gue–”

“I know you don’t know him too well, but your father…” Lady Hinata sighed deeply, losing her intensity and going back to her general air of tiredness. “He’s a good man, you should at least know that.”

Sarada nodded, watching Lady Hinata carefully. This woman had a complicated life, far more complex than the plain living space would lead one to believe. She had depth to her, artistic inclinations and a gentle spirit. Underneath her calm exterior was a sort of strength, brought out only occasionally and for a few moments, but there nonetheless.　What any of that meant for her marriage, Sarada had no idea.

Taking their leave, Chouchou waited until the door was closed before turning to her with a frown. “We just had such a weird afternoon.”

“I know.”

“I don’t mean like ‘oh, I can fit a whole carrot up my nose,’ nothing charming like that.”

“Sure… charming…”

Chouchou crossed her arms, side-eyeing the Hyuuga homes on their way out. “I get what you mean about this place now. It’s pretty creepy.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you even listening to me, Uchiha?”

Sarada sighed. She had a lot to think about, plus quite a few invasive photos to research. “Sorry, I’m just thinking.”

“Of course you are. Typical Sarada, always thinking.”

Was there anything today they could learn from? It all seemed so vague, just a series of bad feelings or suspicions, absolutely no hard evidence pointing them in a new direction.

Chouchou started spouting off theories, but Sarada wasn’t convinced Lady Hinata was the leader of an underground crime syndicate. Rather, Sarada thought her stifled by the Hyuuga’s, these people who provided incessant medical check-ups and large, empty homes. She felt as if Lady Hinata had secret depths, proudly showing off her artistic progress, mistakes and all. Beyond that, she even thought Sarada’s father was a good man. If Sarada’s theories were correct, what did it mean that Lady Hinata thought that?

Sarada refrained from telling Chouchou about the contents of Lady Hinata’s medicine cabinet. Last time she discussed a half-baked theory, she’d been listened to but ultimately misunderstood. If she was going to bring something to her friend, she had to make sure it would stand up to criticism.

When Sarada returned home, she sat down with her mom’s spare medical textbooks. After conducting her own personal research, she realized just how productive – and unfortunate – their day actually was. That night she had dark dreams of stones falling into water, the surface rising more and more with each sudden intrusion until finally her head was engulfed by the rough waters.

Chapter Text

Sarada didn’t enjoy jumping to conclusions, despite her habit of doing just that. She liked to sit down, analyze a problem, and come to a rational conclusion that coincided with the given evidence. That said, she had no idea what to do when she followed all those proper steps and still came up with a conclusion that was...

There was only one word for the answer she’s arrived at: crazy. Her answer was crazy and so was she.

There was no rational reason, no observable motivation behind the actions she believed she’d uncovered. But if – if – she was right, what did it all mean? And why the hell was she constantly asking herself this very question? God, she was irritating.

Sarada stayed awake all night after interviewing Lady Hinata. After dinner, she’d shoved aside feelings of guilt at having so thoroughly invaded someone’s privacy to focus on the task at hand. Armed with digital photos and a house full of medical texts, Sarada was primed to research.

Swiping a medical book on identifying compounds from the closet under the stairs, Sarada found the pharmaceutical name for the compounds written on the sides of Lady Hinata’s vials. Those from the Hyuuga family weren’t immediately suspicious. She was taking something call amoxatriptine, some iron and magnesium supplements, vitamin D and B12 pills among others. There was also a plethora of traditional raw medicines: root powders, dehydrated plants, some mushrooms.

After identifying what she was looking at, she began researching their uses. The true nature of these compounds was unearthed once Sarada did a little more digging in a separate book, this one retrieved from a proper book shelf in her mom’s spare room. That amoxatriptine? It was a tricyclic antidepressant. Its side effects included drowsiness and fatigue, and some patients reported erratic behavior and mood swings in the first years of usage. Years.

While not initially suspicious, the other compounds were decidedly not innocent. Dietary supplements aren’t usually a bad thing, but they’re useless when taken in minute quantities and in specific indigestible forms. The numerical dosages on the supplements were far too small to make any noticeable change in an adult woman; their prescription strength was most ideal for someone too young to start attending the ninja academy yet.

Worse than all of this was the traditional medicine. Looking at them individually, they seemed like unideal ingredients for a rather bland salad – but once Sarada had thought of this metaphor, she considered their effects when paired together. This led her to two other books, both used to prop up a living room lamp and specializing in what some called “Eastern medicines,” whatever that meant. Together, the glass vial ingredients created a potent weakening agent, specifically targeting muscular atrophy and what the book vaguely called “emotional clarity”.

All of this was horrifying on its own, but then there was the last medicine container, a single Haruno Pharmaceuticals vial, an innocent vitamin D supplement. Once again, on its own the compound was virtually harmless. The dosage was correct for a woman of Lady Hinata’s age, which gave Sarada a few moments of inner peace. But if it was in that cabinet, there was a reason for it. After even more research, more books dug out of the corners of the house, Sarada’s efficiency falling with her exhaustion, Sarada placed the final piece in the puzzle that was Lady Hinata’s medicine cabinet.

It was the perfect crime, hiding the worst side effects behind an innocent vitamin D prescription. The problem wasn’t with the prescriptions themselves, but with their abundance. Both were on the high side of safe, but if taken together.... Two separate vitamin D supplements meant double the dosage, which meant Lady Hinata may have toxic levels of vitamin D in her blood. If this was true, she would be vulnerable to side effects like nausea, vomiting, poor appetite; stomach pain, kidney failure, bone loss, muscular atrophy; disorientation, lack of clarity, general confusion.

Ignoring her mom’s calls to come downstairs for breakfast, Sarada knew that there was no other way to interpret these facts. The Hyuuga doctors were drugging Lady Hinata to be both physically and mentally weak. Her natural disposition had raised no suspicions thus far, adults having always said that she was weak from childhood and was made weaker with childbirth and stress. But they were all wrong, and Sarada’s mom’s hospital was partially complicit in the crime. She didn’t know why there were two doctors, but she was sure as shit going to find out.

The next step was telling someone; there was no way she could handle this all on her own. She could go to Chouchou, her partner amongst all this crime, as she might know who best to talk to. Sarada could confront her mom, go to the Hokage and ask if he knew about any of this, tell Lady Hinata about her condition, burn down the Hyuuga complex – she could go in a lot of directions. But despite her best judgment (and the more fiery side of her DNA), something pulled her towards school with haste and led Sarada to her favorite dumbass.

She saw his yellow hair in a crowd several blocks from the school and rushed to reach him. Sarada called out and grabbed Boruto’s arm, then swung him into a typical city alley. She briefly worried about this becoming a trend for them, but she tossed away the thought when she realized it wasn’t productive or even close to relevant right now.

“Boruto, I have to tell you something,” she rushed out, still panting from fighting her way through the morning rush. “But I need to tell an adult too, so you’re coming home with me so I can tell my mom before she goes to work.”

Boruto simply stared at her, brain probably still buffering from the early hour. “Wait, what? Sarada?”

“We have to go now!"

She pushed him along between the buildings until they emerged onto another street, then led
the way back towards her house.

“So you left your house to get me, and now we’re going back there?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t just call me why?"

She paused for a moment then sighed. “Honestly? Because I’m sleep deprived and didn’t think of that.”

“Why the hell – am I necessary? Why did you come get me, of all people? Wouldn’t Chouchou be better for this? You both have your little secret mission going after all, wouldn’t it make more sense to–”

“I’m going to be telling my mom everything,” Sarada declared, only realizing the truth of the statement once the words left her mouth.

It was useless operating in secrecy anymore, she needed as much help with this as she could get. Running around in the shadows and scheming together had been fun for a while, had given Sarada something to focus on that wasn’t mind-numbing school busywork, weak classmates, derivative D grade missions that blurred together in their dullness. Learning the family jutsu had been challenging, but her obsessive focus had exhausted that avenue within only a few weeks.

For months now she’s been focused on her father, his marriage mirrored against the Hokage’s, which morphed into an investigation into a theoretical romantic relationship. She’d spent so much time getting to know Boruto better, coming to begrudgingly accept his competence and even enjoy his company most days, even missing him slightly with his sudden distance lately. She and Chouchou had also grown closer, their best friendship solidified, and Sarada looked forward to collaborating with her further once they were fully fledged chuunin. Mitsuki had been... let’s face it, he’d been ignored.

She knew how she felt about it all, had considered everything extensively in the dark hours between laying down and falling asleep, the long-dead sunflower and untouched tea tin her only emotional companions.

It had been fun while it had lasted, when it was only whispered theories between friends, but this was entirely above her paygrade now. This whole escapade has escalated so dramatically out of her control that Sarada can’t internally justify being the only informed player any more. It was stupid for a child to shoulder the burdens of adult problems. She simply didn’t have the life skills or access to deal with this matter competently, and it was an extremely sensitive, important matter. Someone had to help this poor woman, and Sarada couldn’t do it alone, nor did she want to.

In an absence of conversation, Boruto rambled. “You’re going to tell your mom about our investigation? I guess now is as good a time as any, I guess we kind of know everything there is to know. I just didn’t know the end-game was to like, disclose all our evidence or whatever. It thought it was just kinda for fun, honestly. And telling your mom, of all people? Isn’t that weird or something?”

Having a friend with her while she disclosed everything would hopefully do more good than harm, thus Boruto’s presence. But Sarada couldn’t help but be worried about that friendship falling apart once everything was finally revealed.

“Look at you, using fancy words like ‘disclose’,” Sarada teased, hoping it would take the edge off. It didn’t.

“Wow, so original, insulting my intelligence.” Boruto rolled his eyes. Sarada was about to respond when Boruto grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to a stop, mere blocks from her home.

“Be honest with me Uchiha, what’s about to go down?” Boruto’s eyes were shrewd, examining Sarada’s expression and bouncing between her eyes. “I can tell something’s shaken you, and you look like you haven’t slept all night.”

“I haven’t,” she bit out. “And we can’t waste time having an aside, we need to go now.”

“Alright, alright, but just – be honest with me. Why the hell did you come get me if it’s so time-sensitive?” His eyes were still searching her face, waiting for something.

“Because you need to be filled in too, and this way I can cut the explanatory time in half while still including you. It was quicker to get you than to have to explain this twice.”

“But why include me?” He was fishing for something, unsatisfied with her answer.

Sarada shrugged, eyes cutting away under the strange pressure. “Because you’ve been Involved? Because you’ve been interested?”

“So has Chouchou. Mitsuki is more competent than me, why not pull him in on all of this?”

“I’m going to tell him you finally admitted it, he’ll lose his shit.”

“Come on, be honest with me.”

“It’s just–”

“Uchiha.”

“It’s nice having you involved, okay?”

Boruto paused, eyes narrowing. “It’s nice?”

“Yeah, that’s all. You’re fun, surprisingly competent, that’s all. Some of it... also has to do with your mom, so I think you should know before Chouchou or anyone else.”

A moment passed, two, three. Boruto sighed but nodded, lips jerking in an attempt at a smile. He looked like he didn’t find what he’d been looking for.

“Alright then, sorry for wasting your time here. Let’s get going.”

Chapter Text

She knew everything now. She hadn’t even noticed, had barely known something was wrong in the first place, but she knew now. Sarada had come running back into the house, Boruto on her heels. She told her to sit down because they were finally going to talk; about what, Sakura hadn’t known.

Then the story began, a tale of a few curious and capable children sneaking around and attempting to uncover a plot they only partially believed in, fueled most strongly by Sarada’s Haruno family stubbornness. The more they uncovered, the deeper they dug, until finally it all came to light.

“–That’s when I realized it, that father and the Hokage – they couldn’t possibly be just friends...”

Both she and Boruto had stiffened at that, but Sarada had kept going, her story turning to include more of Chouchou and less of Boruto. She talked and talked, explained and detailed and described. Sakura was astounded by her daughter’s tenacity. Where had she been during all of this, when her daughter had been running around and plotting (only somewhat mediocre) espionage?

By the end of it all Sakura was exhausted, and she could only imagine how her poor daughter felt. Boruto looked shell-shocked, Sarada uncomfortable but confident, and Sakura was sure she looked somewhere in the middle.

She had to be careful. Her daughter just opened up to her, just explained... well, everything. What Sakura said next would be extremely important.

“I had no idea you’d be so mature about all this, Sarada,” Sakura chose to say, and it was the truth. She wouldn’t comment on all the other stuff quite yet – there was quite a lot to unpack here, and her head was buzzing as it was – but this was what her heart wanted to address first.

“So it’s true? It’s all true?” Sarada leaned forward, as if hoping the sound of Sakura’s answers would reach her ears faster if she did so.

Sakura didn’t want to be the one to explain this. Sasuke was MIA (typical – she’d wanted him to give her a break, but Sakura wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow known this was all coming), Naruto was likely holed up in the Hokage Tower, even Ino would’ve been a nice companion to have for this talk. But Sakura was alone, as she’d been most mornings as a mother. Like all the mornings that had come before this one, Sakura would soldier on through it.

“I can only substantiate some of your claims, but...” Sakura took a deep breath, considered lying, considered delaying the talk until someone else could help her, considered all the ways she could deescalate the situation. “You’re correct about your father and the Hokage.”

Sakura watched the oxygen get sucked out of the room, like the compression before a massive explosion, then Sarada and Boruto both stood at once. Sarada began jumping up and down, while Boruto fell to his knees.

“I can’t believe it, I wasn’t crazy!”

“What is happening?”

“Chouchou said I was being ridiculous, I even started to – but I wasn’t imagining anything, I was right!”

“What’s happening?"

Sakura chuckled at the theatrics, but motioned for both children to sit back down. “Alright, calm down you two.”

“Mom, can you tell me...” Sarada paused, and Sakura hated it. She hated seeing her daughter reluctant to tell her something.

“What is it?”

She obviously had a thousand questions at least, but she chose her words very carefully. “Why has it been a secret all these years?” Sarada fiddled with her bangs, the sight of her nervous habit making Sakura feel even guiltier. How had she let this happen, let her daughter get so emotionally far away? “I’ve been dying to know why you guys would keep this a secret from me.”

“And me,” Boruto weakly contributed, head hanging between his knees.

Sarada rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, you–”

“I can’t believe you’ve known all this time, and you haven’t even tried to tell me–”

“I didn’t know how you’d take it!” Sarada shrugged, the picture of aloofness. “I didn’t know how big a baby you’d be, or if you’d respond super ignorantly, or if you’d laugh in my face, or if you’d want to fight them in some competition or something – you can be an ass sometimes, that’s all.”

"I’m going to ignore your insults for now, but seriously, were you never going to tell me? Never?”

“Only if it became necessary, which it did. As of today.”

“Wow,” Boruto muttered, face unreadable. “It’s nice to know what you actually think of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t want you to worry if it wasn’t true, but it is true, so now it’s okay if you’re involved!”

“It would’ve been nice to be included before now, too! You don’t have to pick and choose what I do and don’t know, I am at least partially reliable!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sakura sighed, cutting through their argument. They both sat up straighter, turning to watch her instead of each other.

“Mom, answers,” Sarada demanded, hard gleam in her eye. Boruto looked reluctantly interested, but also faintly nauseous. Having his father so completely recontextualized was obviously difficult for Boruto.

Sakura sighed again, rubbing at her temple. She wanted to punch something, but there was no physical fight to be had and she was too old for such an immature display. She was sitting on this couch today because of her own decisions and actions, and her having to finally answer for them wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own.

“We’ve kept it from you because... well, your father respected my wishes. He always has. And it was my wish to keep it a secret from you, not his, not the Hokage’s. Not really, anyway.”

“But why? Why make it a bigger deal than it had to be?” Sarada looked desperate, conflicted. “All the secrecy and running around, me hating my father because of his distance – it could’ve all been solved if I’d just known! Mom, I trusted you, and you–”

“No, it wouldn’t have.” Sakura let the silence sit for a few moments before continuing. “The results would’ve been the same.”

“What? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Um, do I really have to be here for this part? This seems like family business.”

Sakura and Sarada both sighed at the same time. “Just sit quietly, it’ll be over eventually you baby,” Sarada muttered, giving Boruto a side-eye. Thankfully, his only response was to roll his eyes and flop back against the sofa.

Sakura continued, “We didn’t tell you, and that can’t be changed. But even if we had, your father still would’ve been distant, he still would’ve been gone the same amount. You’d resent him for choosing the Hokage and his duties to Konoha over his own blood family.”

“How can you possibly know how I’d take it? That barely makes any sense!”

“Doesn’t it?” Sakura felt the fire in her stomach shoot up into her eyes. Sarada was used to her fighting spirit by now, didn’t even flinch under the weight of it. “Why did you hate your father so much? Hm?”

“Because he was gone!”

“That wouldn’t have changed.”

“At least I could’ve known why!”

“You did know why: his job. That doesn’t change.”

“Well, his work felt like an excuse, like he didn’t want to see us.” Sarada was getting clumsy in her desperation to find answers.

“That was only partially true, you know that. That’s also unrelated to his relationship with the Hokage, so you’ll have to try again if you want to convince me.”

“Because of the way he treated you!”

Sakura paused. “What do you mean?”

“The way he’d come sometimes and go so soon, the way he blew into town like he owned the place and didn’t give a damn about the collateral damage – about you and I – it made me sick!”

Boruto weakly muttered, “Seriously guys, this is too personal a conversation for me to–”

Sakura dropped her face into her hands. “I didn’t mean to let you feel that way.”

“Well I did! All that time I thought he was incapable of loving anyone. We were just incidental factors, people he had to talk to if he wanted a free roof and a warm meal once every few years or so.”

“Sarada...”

“But knowing that he can and does – does l-love someone – that makes it all different! He’s not just a distant figure, he’s a person! He’s not just an absent father, he’s some dude that can only afford to see his family once every few years because his wife made things difficult and his job keeps him busy! He’s been trying to tell me, trying to reach out, and you’ve been stopping him all along, haven’t you?”

Sarada stood in her passion, stomping her feet and ripping some seams in the carpet. “With all your sneaking around and hiding things from me – these last few months I’ve learned first-hand that it solves basically nothing!” Boruto put a hand on her arm to try to calm her down, but Sarada wasn’t having it. She snatched her arm back, kicked at the sofa and left a dent. Her chakra was building.

“I’ve observed and interviewed and planned, and where has it gotten me, huh? I’ve gotten maybe a handful of answers, maybe. But how does any of it – how has it actually helped? What has it changed? At the end of the day, I’m just a child grasping at straws, struggling to make sense of whatever the fuck my parents left me to live with. Why do I have to be the mature one, the only person trying to make sense of all of this? Why are you all so paralyzed with inaction and so afraid to be honest? You’re all making it so much harder than it has to be, and I know I’m not the only one suffering for it!”

Sarada’s chakra was visible now, forming static between her feet and the floor, making her hair start to stand on end. Boruto slid as far away on the couch as he could, watching her carefully and intensely.

“So tell me mom, tell me why you made everything difficult! Tell me why you thought it would be for the best to lie to me, to hide things and let me feel this way, let me resort to all this bullshit just to find a few goddamn answers about my own parents!”

Trying to calm her down, Sakura attempted to placate her. “Sarada, please don’t...”

“Tell me why you kept him away from me, why you sabotaged our relationship before he and I even had a chance!"

Sarada’s naturally high chakra reserves finally snapped, a burst of some lesser lightning setting the living room alight with electric blue. Sakura reacted just a moment too late, fingers posed to redirect but chakra not ready to incorporate and release a lightning attack. Thankfully, the shocks didn’t hurt. They only bounced over Sakura’s skin and clothing, leaving behind a faint tingling sensation. Boruto yelped, but he too seemed unharmed.

Her daughter stood panting, body likely weak from dispersing her chakra in such a controlled explosion. She’s managed to reign in her temper at the last moment, sparing them all direct contact with white-hot lightning.

"You’ve really improved your control, Sarada.”

“Oh, that’s... that’s all you have to say?” Sarada panted. Boruto carefully took her arm and dragged her back to fall on the couch. "I've been training a lot, that's all."

“Boruto, could you please excuse use for a few minutes?”

Boruto jumped up, ready to run for the last five minutes. “Of course, this sounds incredibly personal and I feel very unprepared for all of this.”

“You can poke around in my study, it’s just down the hall. There are some interesting books on ninjutsu.”

With a nod and a moment of eye contact with Sarada, Boruto finally fled.

Sakura sighed and slumped back against her chair. “You want answers?” She chuckled weakly. “Fine, I’ll give you answers.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Sarada whispered, wiping away the few tears of frustration that’d fallen once Boruto’s back had turned.

“The truth is, your mom is a coward – always has been, always will be.” Sakura swallowed heavily. “I have moments of clarity, times when I see the world for what it is and my place in it. Inside those moments, I’m not afraid. Nothing can harm me, and my friends know I’m dependable. I manage to do amazing things that help the world move forwards, and I’m proud of myself.” Sakura swallowed uneasily, but continued on. “Outside of those moments, I’m terrified.”

“Mom...”

“I’m only telling you this because... Sarada, I love you so much. And your father... He’s done some things.”

“Like?”

“...Bad things.”

“...Okay?”

“Despite all he’s done, the time I feared him the most... was when Naruto told me what he’d tried to do the day you were born. It might sound like an excuse, but... He had a panic attack in the hospital, lost sight of himself and tried... According to the Hokage, he’d said some shocking things. He neutralized your father because he posed a threat to you.” She swallowed, but her throat remained dry. “He tried to hurt you – kill you, Sarada. I worked so hard to give you life, and he was just going to–” Sakura stopped herself, not wanting to get too emotional so she could better ignore her daughter’s tears. “He was going to do something rash when he wasn’t in a healthy frame of mind. Thankfully, Naruto was there, but I don’t know what could’ve happened – what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

“I had no idea,” Sarada sighed, hugging a couch pillow tightly. Seeing her daughter so emotional put a lump in her throat, but Sakura kept talking, kept going for both their sakes.

“For years I told him to stay away, terrified that it’d happen again, that he’d lose it and try to harm you from some illness I’ve never been able to diagnose. After all the things he's done and the paranoia I was feeling around such a threat to my own daughter, I was irrationally cautious. We'd been close before you were born, us and the Hokage, but afterwards I only knew how to be afraid for you. The world is such a dark place sometimes, and your father has spent so much time inside that darkness...

"Anyway, I put up wards around the house so I’d know every time he came here. I tried to keep you uninterested in him so you wouldn’t seek him out on your own when I wasn’t around...” Sakura’s voice shook, but she steeled herself against her feelings once more. “I spent years being terrified, and it took a long time for me to overcome it. You were so young and vulnerable, your father so unthinkingly powerful... I didn’t know when or if he’d snap again.

“I eventually learned how to appreciate and hone my own power, and I came to trust your father again, but it took time. He worked hard to prove himself to me, to the Hokage – he’s so tired now. But years of fear... it’s been hard for me to shake off. The damage had already been done, old habits die hard and all that. I continued to keep him at a distance even though he’d told me about his personal growth, about his desire to reach out to you, despite the fact that I truly thought him genuine.

“Please don’t hate me, Sarada. Please don’t hate me for trying to protect you, for keeping all of this a secret. I’m sorry for being irrational and... overprotective.”

Sarada’s eyes were unfocused, unblinking, staring at the carpet. “He tried to hurt me once? Is that the only reason?”

Sakura felt a surge of inadequacy. “No, that’s not all. When we were young, Konoha wasn’t nearly this stable. We suffered a lot as a village, and you’ll have to talk more to your father about it, but... there’s a deep history of hurt here, especially in the Uchiha clan. We continue on your father’s bloodline, a family that desperately needs to be reintegrated into Konoha. And I’m not going to lie, part of me wanted this affair hidden because of the shame, which would make life difficult for not only the future of the Uchiha name, but for myself.”

“Shame? About what?”

She got the sudden impression that this was the wrong answer to give, but Sakura continued her honesty. “...Being married to a man that would never love me, married to someone who’s a homosexual.”

Sarada frowned. “I don't really understand the gay part, but are you saying that being in a loveless marriage is shameful? Because plenty of people have them, I see it every day."

“Being an afterthought is. Even if I don’t see it that way, even if that's not the true situation, that’s how most people would view it.” Sakura sighed, headache growing at having to explain deep-rooted, systemic homophobia to her child. “I wanted a child and there were no men I loved enough to raise a kid with. You already know that your birth was a scientific miracle, and it wasn't because I can't conceive but because I didn't want to with anyone. I approached your father with my technological breakthrough, and he agreed because he also wanted a child but didn't have the means to go about it.

"Society isn’t ready for people like your father and the Hokage, not yet anyway. Though I personally see nothing wrong with it, we kept it hidden away. We both agreed to hide it from Konoha, but hiding it from you was ultimately my decision. I wanted our family to be as normal as possible.”

“Well, isn’t that hypocritical of you?”

Sakura frowned. “How so?”

“How can you say there’s nothing wrong with it, while at the same time treating it like some dirty secret, saying it's not normal?"

“I would’ve kept this secret no matter who your father loved, man or woman.”

Sarada concentrated on her hands, wrung together in her lap. “Maybe...”

Sakura didn’t like how withdrawn Sarada suddenly seemed. “He and I had agreed on this point, we hid it to protect all of us. Please – please don’t be upset with me.”

“I’m still mad,” Sarada gave her a hard look, and Sakura felt her heart clench. “I’m mad that you’ve wasted my time like this, all those years, gone. But... I understand.”

Sakura finally teared up, overwhelmed with relief. “I’m so glad – you don’t know how long – Sarada, you’re my child.”

“I know.”

“I love you so much, and it was so... I was afraid, embarrassed, I could’ve–”

“You could’ve done a lot differently,” Sarada muttered. “But you’re just a person, you’re not perfect.”

Her relief stopped short. They sat in silence for a few moments, Sakura not liking Sarada’s sudden emotional distance and not knowing what to do about it. Despite her understanding, Sarada’s response seemed... cold.

Boruto nervously poked his head back in the room. Sarada jumped at his voice, rushing to wipe away remnants of her crying before he noticed. The focus of his attention had Sakura doubting her success. “So I heard the yelling die down, figure it’d be a good time to come back.”

“Everything is bullshit, Boruto.” Sarada sniffed, crossed her arms. “Answers are bullshit.”

Sakura tried to protest. “Now wait just a–”

Boruto interrupted her, asking Sarada, “Should I remind you about my mom? You know, the thing you said I just had to know right now, almost an hour ago?”

“Eh, what’s an hour in the grand scheme of the universe?”

“You fucking ass, I could’ve been at school all this time.”

“Like you’d have learned anything, anyway.”

Sakura gently cleared her throat, dispersing the warmth that had been building in Sarada’s expression and the smile in Boruto’s. “There’s something about Lady Hinata?”

Sarada sat up straight, motioned for Boruto to sit back down, and handed him a couch pillow. “What I’m going to say... it’s shocking.”

Sarada explained about her and Chouchou’s stop at Lady Hinata’s house and the pill bottles Sarada had found. Sakura would have to buy new couch pillows, Boruto ripped all three in his fit of rage. With all the revelations Sarada’s reconnaissance brought, Sakura couldn’t help but spare a few moments for pride. She was relieved and happy that her daughter was so practical, such a capable ninja, so good at conducting research and problem-solving. And so open-minded regarding her father.

Moment gone, Sakura focused on what she now knew. She knew everything and unlike the children, she knew exactly what to do.