.

I am looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses.

.

Amidst the abandoned buildings and dusty storefronts of the former Uchiha district, Sarada could almost feel the tangible aura of melancholy that draped over the streets like a heavy blanket.

Here it was. This was where her kinsmen had once lived, almost a hundred strong. Mama had told her that the Uchiha had once been the pride of Konoha. Even the textbooks, while frustratingly vague, spoke of "eminence" and "might" and "renown"—the most powerful clan in the Country of Fire.

And then, somehow, the entire clan had been wiped out, leaving just her and Papa.

But how? How had a clan as reputedly powerful as the Uchiha been annihilated so completely? Who was strong enough to do such a thing, and heartless enough to murder children and elderly and civilians in cold blood? And why? Why would anyone have done such a thing?

Sarada kicked a loose rock, hard enough to send it shooting all the way down the street. It landed somewhere in the distance, the sound echoing loud in the stagnant air.

She let out a noise of frustration. And for the hundredth time, she recalled her team's mission earlier that day.

Run-of-the-mill band of robbers, a few broken windows and stolen goods, headed northwest. No big fuss, just an average C-rank mission.

And then.

"Ha, ain't you that Uchiha kid? The one who doesn't even know that all her relatives were a bunch of fuckin' psychos." A laugh. "Ignorance is bliss, eh?"

And Sarada knew it was just the standard intimidation and trash-talking tactic—she knew that—but those words had hit a sore spot, a repressed grudge that she hadn't even known she'd been cultivating. She had frozen, unsure and rooted to the spot, as Boruto yelled back something on her behalf and Konohamaru-sensei shot her a concerned look. Even as she had been helping Mitsuki tie up the robbers and scolding Boruto for accidentally denting a safe box, her mind had been miles away.

Psychos.

She had been about to deny it. Firmly and vehemently, in fact. But the truth was, she knew next to nothing about her clan. Who was to say her relatives hadn't been a bunch of absolute psychopaths? Uchiha Sarada certainly couldn't—and wasn't that just laughably sad?

"It's ridiculous, Mama. There are civilians, strangers, who know more about the Uchiha than I do! Why can't anyone tell me anything?"

"The Nanadaime enacted this policy to protect the younger generation, and that includes you, Sarada. And it was your father's wish that the Uchihas' past should be classified."

"So as one of the last remaining Uchiha, I can't even defend myself against people calling my clan psychopaths?"

"Just ignore them. You shouldn't care what they think."

"But for all I know, they're telling the truth!"

"Sarada…"

"Don't tell me it's true. Were the Uchiha really all mad? Is that why everything is classified?"

"It's classified to protect you, Sarada. There are things you—and everyone else—would be better off not knowing."

"Such as what, that the Uchiha were all crazy?!"

"No, of course not! Some of your ancestors may have been… misguided, but that should never change how you see yourself or your clan."

"'Misguided'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"…Your father should be coming back soon. Maybe you can ask him then."

Oh, Sarada was going to ask Papa, all right. The very second he returned—whenever that could possibly be. Why did he want everything concerning the Uchiha to be so restricted? What could possibly be so shocking or dangerous that even Sarada, one of the only two remaining Uchiha, couldn't know?

She gritted her teeth and stalked down the cracked asphalt. It was cold, it was dark, and she was tired. And why had she ever thought coming down here, to the edge of the village and in the crack of night, would be a good idea? Boruto's stupidity must have been rubbing off on her.

She had come here on an impulse, a sudden desire to see the remnants of the old Uchiha district that hadn't yet been torn down and renovated, driven by some sort of wishy-washy hope that maybe she'd be able to gain some newfound insight into her clan.

But no. All that was here were unkempt weeds, boarded-up windows, and cold, lifeless, nondescript buildings. And in the dark, whatever shop names and signs that might have been able to provide some semblance of inhabitancy went completely eluded.

She took a left turn to head to the lakeside path that would lead her out of the depressing ghost district.

A few steps in, she stopped. The frown on her face deepened at the sight of the suddenly unfamiliar buildings. Was it supposed to have been a right turn? No, no. Definitely left. But that was odd… Sarada shook her head. Her brain wasn't normally this easily sleep-impaired. What was it, barely past midnight? She rounded another corner.

And muffled a screech when someone shoved a bright yellow lantern up in her face.

She leapt back, right hand instinctively going to the kunai holster on her thigh. Her other hand shielded her face from the intense light.

She squinted, breathing hard. "Who on earth—"

The person lowered their lantern. "Oh, Sarada! It's you!"

A boy. Her age. And he knew her? Sarada squinted harder, digging through her memory as she did so. Short, spiky black hair. Black eyes. Bright grin. Were those… goggles? Orange goggles? No, she had absolutely no clue who he was.

"Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

The boy gaped at her. "What?" he exclaimed. "How could you not remember me, the great Uchiha Obito?"

Sarada frowned, relaxing her hand from her holster. She pushed up her glasses. Yes, the sleep deprivation was definitely taking a toll on her brain. And ears. "Did you just say—"

"Okay, fine, I guess it's been a good, what, two weeks? Since I last saw you," the boy named Obito rambled on, heedless of the fact that he had just interrupted her—mid-sentence—for the second time in seconds. Immediately, Sarada mentally filtered him into the "Boruto" category of people. "But just so you know, just because you've forgotten me doesn't mean I'm not gonna become the future Hokage," he said, with brazen confidence.

Aiming to be Hokage? Not a civilian, then. A flicker of interest sparked at the back of Sarada's thoughts. And maybe not the Boruto category of people, either.

"Really," she said, straightening. She put one hand on her hip. "I think you'll find that I'm the best kunoichi of this generation," she told him.

Obito scoffed. "Sure, that's why I've never heard of you. Well, I think you'll find that I'm the best shinobi of this generation!" He paused. "Or, well, I will be! Soon. Just gotta wait a bit longer for these stupid eyes to get with the program," he muttered, rapping his goggles.

Sarada raised an eyebrow, bemused. So this Obito was a little bit odd, but some of her friends had stranger quirks than that. "And what are you doing here in the middle of the night, Obito-the-future-Hokage?"

"Thought you had that all figured out the first time, Sarada-the-future-Hokage's-assistant," Obito retorted. "Training; can't sleep; more fun when it's dark; 'Tachi joins me sometimes," he said, keeping count on his fingers. "But anyways, enough standing around! C'mon!"

He turned and bounded down the street, then cut across the grass to a small clearing next to the lake, the old-fashioned lantern flickering and swaying as he did so. He turned back and made a big, exaggerated beckoning gesture.

Sarada bit her lip.

It was cold.

It was dark.

She was tired.

But this was an interesting turn of events. Someone her age, wanting to be Hokage? Sarada had thought she was the only one in her age group with that dream. Everyone else had always brushed it off as "impractical", "naive", and "overly ambitious". She eyed Obito hesitantly.

Maybe this idiotic, midnight trip could still be worthwhile, even if she hadn't been able to learn anything about her clan.

Mind tentatively made up, she jogged down to the clearing.

"So I was practicing my taijutsu tonight," Obito confided, practically bubbling with energy. He was still talking to her as though she were an easy friend, to her continued bewilderment. "Plus, training in the dark makes you better prepared for fighting at night, so this'll give me an edge over my opponents!"

He rummaged around in his kunai pouch, and pulled out a shuriken. "Wish you brought your cool glowy lantern, but here," he said, giving her one. He pointed at a tree a few metres away. "See that knot on the side of the tree? I've been trying to do that thing where you bend the path of the shuriken. You know that one?"

Sarada hummed. "You mean, like this?" She eyed the burl critically—which was just barely visible under the light of the moon—and threw her shuriken with a calculated flick of her wrist. It made a textbook arc before slamming smack-dab into the centre of the burl.

She allowed herself a pleased smile, before turning to Obito and cranking the smile up to a smug grin.

Obito stared at her, slightly slack-jawed, and then slumped. "Dammit, you really are good at everything," he grumbled. "Just like Bakashi."

Sarada softened, feeling a little bit bad despite herself. She reached out and gave him a pat on the back. "I'm sure you can master it as well, with enough practice. Shuriken jutsu is one of my specialties, so I just happen to have had a lot of practice with it."

"Figures," said Obito, wrinkling his nose. "Everything I try to do is something you've already mastered."

"I don't know what you mean by that, but I can give you some pointers, if you'd like," Sarada offered cautiously.

Obito brightened, face immediately lighting up into the most Boruto-like grin she'd ever seen on someone that wasn't Boruto, or the Nanadaime. "Really, you'd do that? Hell yeah! That'd be awesome!"

Sarada blinked, then shook her head, smiling. "If only my stuck-up teammate Boruto was half as enthusiastic as you about receiving help."

Obito nodded in commiseration. "If only my stuck-up teammate Bakashi was half as enthusiastic as you about giving help," he said mournfully.

They gave each other sympathetic looks.

"Right," Sarada began, her lecture tone back on. She held her hand out, and Obito gave her another shuriken. "So let's get started, then."

A small smile spread across her face. Tonight's spur-of-the-moment decision, she decided right then, had turned out quite, quite well.

"Obi-who?" Boruto repeated, through a mouthful of teriyaki burger.

Sarada sighed. "Obito," she said again. "Neither of you have heard of him?" She looked across the booth to Boruto, then Mitsuki, then back again to Boruto.

He gave a clueless shake of his head. "I don't know anyone by that name, never mind someone who's a kid our age, and a shinobi to boot."

"Mitsuki?" Sarada asked, just because it wouldn't do to not cover all her bases, as unlikely as it seemed that Mitsuki would know Obito when even Boruto didn't.

"I know of an Uchiha Obito, but he's no longer alive," Mitsuki supplied. "It's odd that anyone would name their child after him," he added thoughtfully.

Sarada froze, a fry halfway to her mouth.

"Uchiha Obito?" she asked slowly, thinking back to last night. She lowered her fry back down.

Maybe her hearing hadn't been as bad as she had thought.

But—but that was impossible.

Mitsuki looked down for a moment, as though mulling something over, then glanced back up. "Sorry, it's related to the Fourth War." He smiled lightly. "My parent told me, but I don't think I'm allowed to discuss it."

Boruto propped his head up on his elbow. "Man, I swear, all the cool history stuff is always related to the Fourth War. Dunno what my dad was thinking, the old geezer." He took a slurp of soda.

Sarada pursed her lips. On this, she agreed with Boruto. Taboo topic after taboo topic: her clan's demise, the history of the Uchiha, Papa's past, the Fourth War. Why was everything of any interest or importance always classified and confidential?

"What about a Bakashi?" she asked, as a last try. "Obito mentioned that he was his teammate."

Boruto snorted soda out his nose.

"Baka-Bakashi?" he guffawed. "Who the hell names their kid that?"

Sarada flushed. Another good point. "Now that I think of it… that may have just been a derogatory nickname."

Boruto's eyes widened. He slammed his hands down on the table. "Holy crap," he breathed. "Bakashi. That's… that's the perfect nickname for Old Man Kakashi!"

"Boruto!" Sarada exclaimed, scandalized. "You can't call the Rokudaime that!"

"Sure I can," Boruto said, sniggering. "Maybe if I do it enough times, he'll buy me a pack of Shinobi Bout."

Sarada couldn't even begin to parse that train of convoluted logic. "I think it's more likely you'll suddenly find yourself footing the bill for a hundred dollars' worth of Icha Icha special edition novels."

Boruto stuck his tongue out at her and stole one of her fries.

Sarada rolled her eyes. Very mature of him, as always. She took a sip of soda as Boruto started blabbing on at Mitsuki about helping him with potential pranks on the Rokudaime.

Uchiha Obito. Hadn't the boy introduced himself as Uchiha Obito? Sarada had been so, so sure that she must have heard wrong, but… black hair, black eyes. Practicing shuriken jutsu—an Uchiha specialty—in the Uchiha district. Could there have been an Uchiha insignia on his jacket? It had been too dark to see properly, but…

She pushed her tray towards Boruto. He looked at her, askance.

"You can have it," she said abruptly. "I forgot I had something I needed to do." She got up from the booth.

"Eh?" Boruto opened his mouth, confused, then closed it. A grin spread across his face. "Awesome," he said, grabbing the rest of her fries.

Mitsuki watched her. "That was very generous of you," he stated.

"Right," Sarada said. "Uh, see you two tomorrow, then." She darted out of the burger joint.

Maybe Obito would still be there.

And Obito hadn't been there.

And neither, for that matter, had the trees. Or, at least, the specific trees that Sarada remembered training on. The pine tree with the burl in the side—clear as day in Sarada's memory—had no longer been there. There was a pine tree with a burl there, but it was about twice as thick and definitely not the same one, unless it had managed to age thirty years overnight.

She just couldn't explain it, no matter how hard she thought about it. And stranger still was the fact that between her and Boruto, they knew almost all the genin and chūnin their age. None of them were named Obito.

But one thing, at least, she did know with certainty.

She was going back there tonight.

A/N: And thus begins Sarada's nightly adventures, inspired by the movie Midnight in Paris, and the first chapter of the fic Black Crow by I'm Not Crazy You Are. These chapters will be short and sweet (roughly 2.5k), and this fic should also be rather short and sweet (roughly 25k).

Thank you to Starship Phoenix for beta-ing once again! And to all you readers, let me know what you think. I'm open to constructive criticism, if you have any!