I vaguely remember asking about my father when I was four years old. I had just come home from the academy and mama was preparing dinner as I sat in the living room playing with my favorite stuffed animal. We lived in a one story house then (before mama demolished it out of frustration years later) and the window was open letting in the spring breeze. I could hear kids playing outside, but what had stood out to me was the voice of one kid that called out for his dad. Curious, I walked over to the window, standing on my tiptoes, I peeked out the window and saw a small brown haired boy and his father. The man was tall, a civilian if I remember correctly, and his son looked exactly like him. I had witnessed a tender moment between the two as the boy's father smiled at him fondly and ruffled his messy locks tenderly.

Sarada, dinner is ready!

Mama and I ate dinner together every night and she would ask me about what I learned that day and helped me with my studies. I remember starring at my reflection in the bathroom that night, studying my features, trying to pick out what looked like my mom; and I could see that I kinda had her eyes and her forehead, but I was just a kid then. That night, I asked her about my father and I will never forget the sad look on her face. She said something about him being away on an important mission and this is the same answer she would give me for the next six years of my life. Though she was upset, I will also never forget the softness of her face when I asked her if they had ever kissed, and the press of her fingers against my forehead. She said that I'd understand once I was older, but I didn't really know how to take that then.

In the years that mama raised me, I would sometimes stumble in on her private moments. One time I found her in the garden zoning out on our tomatoes, another time I found her hand resting against our family crest with tears gently falling down her face. It was strange, although she was crying, she also had a soft smile and I never understood how someone could show two emotions at once, but my mom is special and she wears her heart on her sleeve. What really unnerved me though, was the day I came home from the Academy and she was no where to be found. I searched for her everywhere and it wasn't until I went out towards the village gates that I found her sitting on a lone bench gazing up at the sky. When I called out to her, her gaze looked far away as if she were having an out of body experience, but she snapped out of it (until after I screamed out her name) and she apologized to me for not being home.

She never did that again.

There were many times while at the academy where Iruka sensei would compliment my skills, especially when it came down to shurikin practice. He would always say as expected of an Uchiha and although I would smile at the compliment, I didn't really understand what it was to be an Uchiha and it was at this time of my life at the age of ten where I would also consistently hear that I looked like my father - again, an Uchiha. But here's the thing, my father never taught me how to throw shurikin, my mother did and she was a Haruno so then were my skills top notch because I was an overachiever or was it because I was a part of a three man clan with a secretive legacy?

You don't inherit skills. That comes from hard work and dedication something that Haruno Sakura taught me.

When I turned twelve my mama told me that I looked exactly like my father and the look she gave me was so heart wrenching that it took everything in me to not cringe - not because it was sad - but because I've never seen her look at me with so much love and adoration before. Don't get me wrong, I know my mother loves me, she shows me everyday, but that day for some reason it was as if she was truly baring out her soul to me and reminiscing on secret memories that I'd never find out about. Even though I stopped asking about my father for a few years now, that night I decided to look at my reflection once again for the millionth time and compare myself. I had definitely changed throughout the years, but my heart yearned to know what this man looked like! I had searched my house many a time trying to find a picture of him for comparison to no avail.

I would be lying to myself if I didn't say that I didn't dream about him frequently. I would stay up countless nights and conjure up different images of what he would look like: skinny, tall, built, long hair, short hair. I would come up with so many different scenarios of what we would do together like train, go to the park as he pushed me on the swing as I laugh at the top of my lungs, go hiking, maybe even swim in the lake on a hot summer day and when he finally came home from his long and secretive mission, I would show him my favorite tea house and we would sit down enjoying each other's company as he recalled everything to me. I didn't care if it were gruesome or boring, I just craved to hear the sound of his voice, craved to look at him face to face, craved his attention.

I'll never forget the day when Boruto confessed to me that he kinda hated his dad. At first, I was shocked. I mean, this idiot had his dad living in the same exact village as he and all he ever complained about was that the Hokage never made any time for him. At least he knew that his father was alive and well albeit extremely busy, while I myself had no idea where my old man was or if he was actually even still alive (I hoped he was though for my mama's sake). At first, I couldn't understand Boruto's reasoning, but then I had this epiphany where a part of me also hated my father. I mean, he left us for God's sake! And who the fuck was he to accept such a long mission that would keep him away from his family? All that anger aside, I knew that deep down I loved this mystery man and Boruto loved his dad too.

The day I finally once again asked my mama about papa was the day some woman at the bakery "accidentally" slipped up and said something about my clan. I can't exactly remember what it was, all I know is that I was upset, and my mother threw a fit when I yelled at her (this was when our house got demolished by her super human strength). That night, as my mom gathered herself at Shizune's house, I scoured the ruins for keepsakes and finally found what I had been looking for years. The picture was dusty and old, but no doubt that the man in the photo was my father. He was handsome, with a stern face, spiky hair and he wore strange clothes that for some reason raised red flags in my mind, but I couldn't quite put my finger on. What baffled me was the woman next to him.

She was pretty and for some reason at that time I saw so much of myself in her. Maybe it was because I saw them together and it was the first comparison I was ever able to make of my father next to another woman. Her glasses looked exactly like mine, her eyes held a soft expression but her face looked tired as if she had been battling all her life and there was a dusty tint of red on her cheeks no doubt from her standing next to my dad and that was when the ridiculous thought came to me: was she my real mother?

What an absolutely absurd - No, it was plausible. I mean the woman I lived twelve whole years of my life didn't wear glasses, in fact, she had perfect vision. As I think about it now, I was the most naive - (despite me thinking otherwise) - brat on the planet. Vision isn't hereditary, and my sight was basically perfect without my specs, but mama had said something to me about prevention for the future and so I wore special lenses that would preserve my clarity.

I remember not sleeping that night. Question after question popping up in my head about my father and who that woman was. Guilt washed over me only for bitterness to erase it away and then the guilt would come back followed by another wave of bitterness until finally my curiosity won me over and I decided that I had to find him. Someway. Somehow. Luckily the next day I had the perfect opportunity to make my escape out of the village. I like to pride myself into thinking that I was fast in my youth, and bless my best friend ChouChou for keeping up with me, that is until we ran into that weird onion head shaped guy named Shin. I couldn't even begin to tell you how furious I was with him because he was deterring me from getting to the meet-up point where the Hokage and my father were supposed to rendezvous. Our exchange was an eye opener for me because I was a cocky girl back then, I thought I was un-defeatable, until he of course almost wiped the floor clean of us had it not been for the Seventh.

Speaking of, I will forever be thankful of the Hokage. Had it not been for him then I don't know where I would be right now, probably some missing-nin wandering the world for answers about life as I contemplated my shitty family situation. I definitely saw him in a different light that day: he was a kind man with a boyish charm that you couldn't help but love and he seemed extremely knowledgable about life in general and about the bonds people create with one another. He'd told me that day that although I may be a carbon copy of my father, my personality was all my mothers and although that made me smile, my curiously to know the man that helped give me life did not wane and so I made up the bullshit excuse about having to pee. I laugh now just thinking about my ingenious plan to get away. Sure, I was tired from running all day, but I couldn't wait any longer. After all, twelve years is a long time to wait for someone.

My mothers face appeared before me as my sore legs pushed me closer to the meetup point. I imagined her smiling face then her worried expression when she realized I was gone, and as much as it turned my stomach, it did not slow me down. When I did arrive at the tower, my body had felt different for a moment as if my chakra were responding to something inside. Hearing the thud against the hard wood floor made me jump, but the moment my eyes landed on the dark clad figure with midnight hair that matched my own, my nerves sky rocketed. Not from fear, but utter joy because I knew that the man that slowly stood up to his full height was my dad and I finally could say to myself that I was definitely my fathers daughter. I looked just like him: same onyx eyes, pale skin ... he was everything I imagined and as my heart and voice called out to him I couldn't of been happier - that is until he pulled out his sword and pointed it at me only to attack me and miss at the last second.

In those two seconds when my eyes saw the blade coming towards me everything I had ever hoped for us to be went down the drain. This man wasn't - couldn't - be my father. He just tried to kill me! But then his deep resonating voice called out my name so softly that it almost sounded broken - I don't know - I thought maybe this was just some cruel joke by the Gods for my impatience and disobedience against my mom. He wasn't even happy to see me, rather he looked pretty pissed, whether it was because his only child was running around alone with a maniac on the lose or because of something else, I wouldn't find out till later that evening. Either way, happy to see me or not, I wanted answers and unfortunately Sasuke wasn't too keen on answering any of them.

When Shin appeared again to attack us, I have to admit that although I was disappointed in my dad and I's reunion, I was still afraid for him. The little girl that always craved to have a father couldn't let go that easily and when he jumped in front of me and took the hit that was meant for me, my heart nearly stopped beating. I was about to witness my papa's death and there was nothing I could do to help, too stunned to move, but then an angel came down from the sky and severely injured the Uchiha imposter. I had never been more happy to see my mom. What stood out to me was the way my dad looked at my mom as if she were some sort of wonder of the world that he'd never seen before which I found totally weird. The way that they spoke to one another was strange also, but I didn't miss the hint of something in their voices, the look in their eyes towards one another - it was filled with familiarity as if in that one breath they relived all their memories of one another. My dad was thoroughly confused as to why my mom had shown up (of course with her being the worrisome woman that she was, she'd come looking for me) but when he told my mother that she shouldn't be the one apologizing for keeping me in the dark - rather he should say he's sorry - it struck a cord in me though that was immediately replaced by panic when Shin teleported away with my mom.

My father didn't seem the least bit concerned for her well being and even though I was breaking on the inside worried that she might be hurt, or worse, killed, that ugly uncertainty of if she was my real mother reared its ugly head back into my thoughts. Why couldn't I just accept that she was my mom - blood related or not - this woman raised me and loved me, but what I really wanted to know was what sort of feelings my dad had for her. I was beginning to think that he didn't care about her and I found myself wondering how a woman like her could fall in love with a man like him.

This is the part of my life where I finally found clarity and felt a sense of peace. My eyes noticed the way my fathers posture stiffened as he regarded the Hokage, she's here he said to him and I didn't miss the way his brows furrowed with concern before his Susano-o crashed into Shin's hideout with a mighty fury. With a deadly aim my dad released its powerful arrow, aiming towards the possessed weapons that were targeting my mom. I could tell she was hurt, but she was saved and when the giant solider touched the ground, I didn't miss the way my father rushed towards my mothers side as he pulled out the shurikin out of her skin, deactivating them with his Amaterasu. My heart kind of skipped a beat here when I watched them interact. Mamas eyes softened as she thanked papa, his own eyes regarding her with the kind of warmth I hadn't known he was even capable of, and their meeting once again baffled me.

Now this is an exciting part of my life because I was able to kick ass and somehow, I actually felt connected with my father for that brief moment. We were two people trying to protect the one woman that meant the world to us - my eyes shun bright with our families dojutsu as my fist rained down upon my enemies and I knew my father was proud of me and that meant everything to me. Fast forwarding to later that evening, my heart had never felt more alive as I sat next to my father, listening to him as he told me of all the things he'd seen on his journey which actually thoroughly fascinated me. He still didn't actually tell me as to why he was gone for the majority of my life, but he did tell me (in the privacy of my room when he thought I was sleeping) that he was away to protect mama and I. A couple of months later I found out exactly why he was away when he went out to fight the last of the Okusuki clan members.

This is the important part of our family legacy and if there is one thing that our clan should know is this: we love harder than anyone else. Our love is eternal and it transcends time, space and the unknown. Love is what motivates us; whether it's for the greater good or evil - we must be careful as to how we channel this powerful emotion, but don't let this close you off. Do not let the Curse of Hatred consume you, the days of Ashura and Indra have long past with Sasuke and Naruto ending the cycle. Our archives will tell you about Madara and his brother, it will tell you the manipulation of Obito and the tragic twist of fate that Itachi and all that he sacrificed; and the vendetta of Sasuke. You will question your clan and who you are, but I want you to take this into account: our clan may be small right now, but if there is anyone's example that you should follow, it's Uchiha Sakura and Uchiha Sasuke.

If you're wondering, yes they are my biological parents and I love them very much. Mama has grown older, but she's still just as beautiful as I remember her in my youth. Papa has since retired though he does manage the new police task force with the help of uncle Naruto. Speaking of, I will forever be grateful towards my extended family because if it weren't for him, I probably would have raised hell and grown up to be a bitter woman.

Now, I sit on top of the Hokage mountain looking out towards the village I have called my home for twenty-one years and as I write the first of many excerpts for our new archves I hope that the details of this entry will guide you and lead you to be the new generation of Uchiha. I have worked hard to be where I am today, and I will admit that there have been times where I questioned what it was to be a shinobi, but always remember to keep your loved ones close because you can't always do everything on your own.

- Uchiha Sarada

9th Hokage


A/N: This was something that was bouncing around in my head for the longest time. I hope you guys enjoyed this, please leave me a review letting me know your thoughts. If you wish to read more SasuSaku, please feel free to head over to my multi chapter fic, This is Heartache, i'm currently working on the next chapter so hopefully I can update that soon.