Author's Note: Not my best work, I know. But if I don't write something, my head will explode. How will I last a week...?

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto… nor any of its sequels or prequels and whatever.


Chapter one: Who's My Daddy?

The photo of her mother had easily separated from that of her father. Sarada stared at the two pictures in her hand, gazing from one to the other, her breath held, her heart stopped. As she looked, she felt as if her world was being sliced in two, standing on two unsteady legs. But to which quaking world did she belong?

She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the flood of questions and speculations; it would have been easier to hold back the tide, or to keep the wind from shaking the trees. At least these were things she could touch and hold, which her presence would effect in some way. As it was, regardless of whether Sasuke or Sakura was her true parent, her knowing would change nothing. The tide would drown her, the wind silence her words.

Yet knowing this, she still could not help but wonder, "What now?"


Sarada stands in the midst of the rubble her mother accidently created. She does not hear Sasuke approach. He stares at the mess; he is shocked and worried, and screams accordingly, "The loan!"

Sarada hears this cry and turns, angry that someone would dare interrupt her moment of anguish. "Who are you?" she asks, her voice quavering with emotion. "Go away. This is private property, not a junk heap."

"I know it is, or at least that it was." Sasuke answers, striding forward to inspect the mess. He looks everywhere, frantically, his face pale. "How did this happen?" he asks, his voice much calmer than Sarada's own. "Was there an earthquake?"

"No. Just my mother." Sarada answers shortly.

"Your mother? Your mother did this?"

"What business is it of yours?" Sarada snarls.

"It is my business, as this is my house." Sasuke stops wandering around and turns to glare at Sarada. Now that he finally sees her, he realizes how familiar her face, hair, and clothing are. He feels his breath being pulled away and his eyes widening in wonder. "Who are you?" he exclaims.

Sarada feels just as shocked. Though much older than the photo, the man is obviously Sasuke Uchiha. "Me? I'm..." She pauses, her gaze falling to the two pictures in her hands. A dark heat seizes her body, her temper lapping up her frustration and building her fiery personality into a roaring flame of rage. A rage she had been told she inherited from her mother.

"Who am I?" she repeats loudly, fiercely. "I thought I was Sarada Uchiha until a few minutes ago, but now I'm not so sure! Who are you? Are you Sasuke Uchiha, patron of this junk heap around us and my father, or just Sasuke Uchiha? Or maybe you're not him at all, but some other loser, my mom's real husband?"

Sasuke's head spins. "Your father! I don't have a child! ... Do I?"

Sarada stomps her foot. "That's what I want to know!"

A rustle among the rubble catches both man and girl's attention. Sakura is standing a few feet away, appearing sweaty and awkward. "Oh dear," she whispers, biting her lip and shaking her head. "Oh dear, oh dear."

"Mother!" Sarada exclaims.

"Sakura!" Sasuke shouts.

They stare at Sakura, the expressions on their faces revealing their anxiety, pain, and confusion. Neither knows what to think, and both need an answer.

Sakura sighs heavily and says, "Sasuke, I... I didn't want you to find out this way."

Sasuke glances at Sarada, his face still pale. "Sakura, is she... my daughter? Were you pregnant when I went away?"

"No, Sasuke. She's... not your daughter."

Sarada's breath catches and she chokes. Her gagging keeps her from seeing Sasuke's reaction, but when she can look again, she notices he is not so composed as before.

"Sakura..." he says in a soft whisper, "how could you... Why? With... whom?"

Sarada feels nothing for the man. She is still consumed with anger, though its course has changed; instead of being aimed at the man whom she believed to be the father who abandoned her, it flared against her mother, whose lie kept Sarada from having a father in her life. "Who is my father?" she demanded.

"Rock Lee." Sakura answers.

Sasuke's horror becomes a quiet sort of weeping. "Rock Lee! But... he's married to Tenten!"

Sakura appears surprised. "What? No, that- Why that two-timing bastard!"

As the news numbs Sarada's mind, a small part of her soul reaches out and wishes Sasuke a faint, "There there. It will be alright." But she is unable to speak.

In a broken voice, Sasuke asks, "But Sakura, you loved me! You loved me for years. Why would you ever go near that... that... Bowl-haired exercise freak?"

Sakura shrugs her shoulders, staring at the sky in a mysterious, dreamy way. "I can not confess to understand the ways of love, Sasuke. I can only go where my heart beckons. I am sorry for the hurt it caused you - but there you go."

Sasuke wipes his eyes, though he still sniffles occasionally. "But, when? Before or after I left-"

"Oh Sasuke, before of course!" Sakura sounds exasperated, now. "Why else would I ask you to go on that pointless journey, unless it was because I was fooling around?"

Sarada stares at Sasuke. "Wait. What journey? Mom, you told me Dad- he had an important task to complete."

"A ridiculous task, more like."

Sasuke is even more distressed. "But, then... You didn't want me to actually find a blue flower with a red thorns?"

Sakura rolls her eyes. "Sasuke, I totally made that up."

"I scourged the land of Far Far Away for nothing!?"

At this, Sakura lowers her head, repentant. "Yes. You have wasted years of your life because of my unfaithfulness. I'm so sorry. I should have been a good wife and pretended the baby was yours, but I wasn't sure what she would look like. I mean, if she had bushy eyebrows, then everything would be over, right? I was going to send for you once I was sure she was normal looking and could pass off as an Uchiha, but then I started to worry, 'well, what if the eyebrows take time to grow?'"

Sarada slowly raises her hands to her eyebrows. "Bushy... eyebrows?"


And Sarada screamed. "No no no no no!"


Ending Note: This was written extremely quickly - it was more scribbled than written. I'm not sure if it is any good, as it is 1:14 in the morning. Tomorrow, when I read this with refreshed eyes, I will either remove it from the site, or write another chapter. Your reviews will save or destroy this story. That's right, its life is on your head. *evil laughter*