A/N: Here's a one-shot that I mostly wrote on paper and Google Docs. I still don't have access to a real computer (this is being uploaded from my mom's IPad), so any of my actual stories will not be updated until I have reliable access to a computer and I can access my dropbox account to get all my stories.
Anyway, enjoy this one-shot!
Uchiha Sarada rushed to get ready that morning. She'd turned twenty-four a few days ago, and her honourary uncle, Naruto, had given her the best present ever. After a long, twenty-one year tenure, Uzumaki Naruto, the Seventh Hokage, would be stepping down and giving the position to his successor. And who did he choose? Sarada couldn't believe it when he handed her an official letter –
As by my right as Seventh Hokage, I, Uzumaki Naruto, nominate you, Uchiha Sarada, to be my successor.
P.S.: I think you'd make a great Eighth Hokage, dattebayo.
It had been her dream ever since she was eleven years old and her and Chouchou had gone off to give Boruto's lunch to Naruto after he'd already left. She'd met her father, seen both her Hokage and her father fight side-by-side, and even seen her mother kick ass. That had been the day that showed her that ninja life was not what Boruto and Chouchou and Mitsuki thought it was. It wasn't all saving princesses and doing dangerous S-Rank missions, it wasn't even really about completing a mission. It was dirty, it was bloody, and it was fun. She'd made plenty of friends – her mother had told her that not even she had as many friends when she was younger – and sure, she made quite a few enemies, especially after her Sharingan matured fully when she was almost thirteen, but she was happy. She'd stare at the Hokage Monument everyday and picture her face up there, right next to the Seventh's, or maybe, if Konohamaru-sensei got his wish, right next to her sensei's.
At fifteen, she'd begun to think that maybe, just maybe, she might not want to be Hokage anymore. She didn't really even glance at the Hokage Monument anymore, no longer spent hours on her days off just staring at the rock face, trying to picture herself there. Her dream had been her drive – it was what propelled her to Chunin status during her first try at the exams (though that was when she was thirteen). Sure, Boruto had ranted and raved about how his father should have given him a promotion instead of Sarada, but really, Sarada, even then, knew that Boruto didn't have what it took to be Chunin. After all, it took the blond five years post-graduation to grow out of his daddy issues and realize how horrible he'd been to his team and his family. But Sarada had forgiven him almost as quick as Mitsuki had. It was then, when they were all seventeen and they'd finally become a proper team, even if all of them were Chunin, and Sarada Jounin, at the time, that Sarada looked up at the monument and thought, fleetingly, I'll definitely be up there one day.
At eighteen they went on a B-Rank mission to get back a secret scroll that some missing-nin had stolen. It had just been the three of them – they had more than over-qualified for the mission. But, as Naruto had once said, Team Seven was a cursed team. Their mission nose-dived into disaster when Boruto took a sword right through the chest for her. She'd been distracted trying to heal Mitsuki's fractured femur when they thought the battle was over. And it really should have been over. All the missing-nin were either dead or unconscious, with a few still awake but unable to move. But one had hidden in the bushes, and he was a speedy bastard, as he ran towards the distracted Uchiha and raised his katana to pierce right through the proudly displayed fan on her back. Boruto had shouted, and then, suddenly, he was right in the path of the blade, and it sunk right through him, poking out his chest. The missing-nin had jumped away after the attack, and Boruto, after sputtering out that stupid phrase, "Heheheh, talk about a shitty mission, dattebasa," fell face-first to the ground and stopped moving, and Sarada screamed – and she couldn't help it. There was her teammate, her friend, her best friend, laying on the ground, not moving an inch, not even breathing, and she felt her Sharingan whirl to life and her chakra spike maliciously, right into her eyes, and suddenly, she was angry. She barely even looked at the missing-nin before those horrible black flames were heading right towards him, and he just stood there staring, not even bothering to try and move out of the way – he was consumed quickly, the flames reducing him to ash in barely a few seconds. Sarada felt her eyes ache horribly as she swayed, chakra exhausted to barely there, just as another team leaped from the bushes.
At nineteen, Boruto had been cleared for high-rank missions again – so long as his lungs were still functioning as they should be. Sarada had apologized, but Boruto wouldn't have it. "If I could do it again, save you from death once more, then I would Sarada. Don't even think I'm gonna let you, or Mitsuki, die, dattebasa!" And she believed him, even if his father wouldn't let him off on any more B-Rank missions with just three people. She wasn't sure what she felt about the blond, but surely, they were something like family now. And as Boruto complained, loudly, about stupid easy C-Ranks and how he should totally be able to complete an A-Rank by now, she couldn't help but fondly think that boys were so... shannaro.
At twenty-one, Sarada knew she wouldn't be disappointed if she never made Hokage. Even if Boruto or Mitsuki or hell, even Shikadai or Chouchou, made Hokage, she'd be right there to cheer them on, give them congratulations, and maybe tease them about the amount of paperwork they'd have to do day in and day out. She knew personally how much paperwork a Hokage had to do, because her honourary uncle had often called her in on her days off of active duty to help him sort and sign important sheets. And in the back of her head, she often thought, it's great practice for when I'm Hokage. And then, as often as she had when she was eleven, she'd look at the Hokage Monument and wonder, would her face be there one day? Her uncle had told her that he honestly didn't think he'd make it to Hokage. He claimed that when his sensei, the honorable Sixth Hokage Hatake Kakashi, had handed him the hat after only two years in office, it was like he was dreaming. He joked that he'd often think that he'd wake up in his scrawny twelve-year-old body, believing it really was all a dream.
At twenty-four, Sarada knew what Naruto felt like, when the Sixth handed him the hat. After all, the Seventh was handing her the hat, grinning ear-to-ear, making his blue eyes scrunch up. Sarada cautiously took the hat from him, wondering if he'd claim it was all a prank and demand it back before sending her out on a mission. But then, Sarada heard the screaming and cheering crowd behind her and realized that, yes, this was all real and, yes, her mother was standing off to the side, her father at her side (he'd come back just to see his little girl become Hokage, see his little girl fulfill her life-long dream), pride gleaming in both their eyes. She saw her team standing next to Boruto's mother and little sister, grinning, pride also in their eyes. As the Seventh took the hat back and raised it, the white cloth dangling from the sides brushing her cheeks, and placed it on her head, she felt a grin wind its way up her face, and happiness and pride and giddiness exploded in her chest because she'd finally done it, she finally succeeded, she finally made her parents truly proud, finally, finally, finally – she looked up at the monument.
Finally her face would be up there.