A/N

summary: The academy wants everyone to collaborate with a parent to learn their clan's signature jutsus. This new assignment exposes some of Sarada's biggest insecurities. She wants to learn a new jutsu, but the person she would have loved to learn from is not around. Sakura wrestles with some difficult choices.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Sarada held her assignment sheet in disbelief as she made her way home from class. Below the instructions were two lines meant for her parents' signature. Looking at the paper, she couldn't repress the shadow of dismay brewing within her, thick and unrelenting, as her eyes collected and her brain processed the words plastered on the paper. She wasn't upset about the required signature, in actuality, that wasn't even a concern of hers. She could have her mother sign the thing and be done with it. What bothered her was the assignment itself and what it entailed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sarada groaned. There was no way this was happening to her. Her luck couldn't have been that bad. She folded the paper in fours and slipped it into her back pocket. The out-of-sight-out-of-mind idiom proved ineffective then as the words from the paper continued plaguing her thoughts. She couldn't stop thinking about what her sensei had said after handing out the sheets.

"This is a perfect opportunity for all of you to learn new jutsus rooted in your respective clans and bond with your mom, father, aunt, uncle—whoever available to teach you." Bond with her father? The man she hadn't seen in so long that she wouldn't be able to pick him out in a line-out. Was she really going to rely on him to be present for her now when he has never been before?

Sarada noticed Boruto a few steps ahead of her. His back was facing her with his head hung low. She quickened her pace until she fell into step beside him.

"So your dad's going to show you the rasengan?" She said without preamble. Boruto's expression hardened, but he said nothing, his focus still on his moving feet.

Sarada nodded to herself, turning her eyes to the path in front of them. She bit her lower lip as she thought of something else to say; something sensitive enough to show him that she empathized with him. Like him, she was not looking forward to this assignment. It sucked that the only decent thing they ever bonded over was the prospect of not having their dad's around. Yet the sad thing was, despite their similar situations, Sarada envied Boruto.

In her mind, she translated his situation as a lesser version of her own problem. Sure, his dad wasn't around as much as he'd want him to be around, but at least he was around. And when he couldn't be around, he had a valid reason for it. It wasn't because he didn't want Boruto anymore or didn't love him, he just had to carry the village and attend to official duties.

She understood the seventh's reason for not being around for Boruto, but she could never understand her own father's absence from her life. He was never around to give her an appropriate enough reason to why he wasn't around or hadn't been around. When she'd press her mother for an answer on the issue, she would tiptoe around the truth, relaying everything but the truth to her. It was all a frustrating game that did little to relieve the young Uchiha. What it did was feed her insecurities more, making her head swell with even more questions—questions that would be shelved in the back of her mind because no one ever had the grits to give her the unsolicited truth. Her mother was the one who always shooed her inquiries away by providing her with sketchy lectures that were dressed with enough sagacity that kept Sarada from asking any more questions.

From observing her mother's shifted expressions, knitted eyebrows revealing worry lines, she knew she was hiding something. Some truth was held from her and Sarada always found her mind falling in a downward spiral, trying to decipher the rest of the context. One thought that had beset the young Uchiha's mind for ages: was that her father changed his mind, and didn't want the responsibilities of having a family—a daughter?

That thought alone had always left her feeling hollow inside, and she would always cast it off to the dustier parts of her mind where it was left to linger alone, growing and feeding on her insecurities.

"I'm guessing your father's going to show you a few jutsus." Sarada turned to meet Boruto's eyes. She tried reading his intentions, because there was no way he'd say that unless he was ignorant of her predicament. Everyone knew she hadn't seen her father in years; Boruto had to have known as well.

"Well, no," she answered, her tone doing well to hide the disappointment she felt. Boruto nodded in silent understanding.

The two walked in silence for a while. Things weren't looking great for either of them. They needed to learn new jutsus, but the people capable of showing them—or rather the people they wished was around to show them, weren't around.

"Maybe I'll ask my mom," Sarada said with newfound enthusiasm.

"She knows any cool jutsus?"

"Well, yeah. She's the strongest Kunoichi of Konoha."

"She is?"

Sarada's eyes widened at that question as if he'd just asked her what a doorbell was.

"She's trained with the fifth Hokage who was also one of the legendary Sannin."

"My dad did too," Boruto added with a slight smile.

Sarada's fisted a hand up into the air to better emphasize her point. "One punch from her and you're pudding."

Boruto stuffed both hands back into his pocket, his expression falling back into disinterest. "So what? The assignment wants us to present new jutsus. Not punch a hole into the planet."

"I guess I'll just ask her to teach me a few then," she told him, never losing the enthusiasm in her tone.

The two had reached the point where their paths branched off into different directions. Sarada's manor went one direction, Boruto's home the other.

Sarada smiled faintly when she thought of presenting the paper to her mom. She looked at Boruto who still seemed dispirited, and wondered if he would try asking his father for help.

"Ask your dad to teach you the rasengan," she said before walking off the other direction. She hadn't said it loud, but Boruto had heard her and his blue eyes sprung to hers in surprise.

When Sarada got home, she noticed her mother piling a bunch of clothes into a large basket. She pivoted on her heels to walk the other way. Her steps were light and measured as she headed for the door, wanting nothing to do with the chore her mom was working on. She didn't want an invite to fold laundry.

She grabbed for the door, turned its knob, her eyes slamming shut when a creak escaped the hinges of the door as she pulled it open. Three more steps and she'd be safe from the chore.

But on the second step, she was caught. "Sarada." Sakura's voice came.

Sarada froze in her steps, her eyes widening with anticipation and her lips curling up to reveal an expression of unrepressed disgruntlement.

Please don't make me fold.

"Would you mind giving me a hand?" Sarada's shoulders fell. She hated folding laundry, she hated it more than washing dishes.

"Do I have to?" Sarada said, her voice whiny.

There was amusement in Sakura's tone when she replied back. "Of course not."

Sarada smiled, relieved that she had the choice to opt out.

"I've only been on my feet for 13 hours doing every other chore around the house. What's a few more hours of laundry, right?" This was what her mother excelled in after medical ninjutsu. Instilling guilt. She wielded it like a kunai knife, tucked it in her weapon sack, using it on others whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Sakura's head turned to show her profile, but she wasn't making direct eye contact with Sarada when she next spoke. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Sarada bit the bait, her eyes rolling upwards in her obvious defeat. She appeared beside her mother, then grabbed a white shirt from the pile. She ignored the subtle victory grin displayed on her mother's face and started folding.

"I have this assignment," she began.

Sakura looked at her sideways, curiosity in her viridian eyes.

"What is it?"

"I need to learn a new jutsu for a class project. It has to be a clan originated jutsu."

"Your dad was planning on showing you the fireball jutsu," Sakura said. Sarada turned to look at her mother.

"That would impress all the other kids in class. The fireball jutsu is a pretty badass jutsu. I've seen it done a few times by your dad." There was a dreamy look in Sakura's eyes when they went up. Her smile made modest as she bit her lower lip.

"Maybe if he remembered he had a daughter," Sarada bit out. "It's been how long since he's left?" It sounded like a rhetorical question, and knowing her mother's knack for evading questions like that, she'd probably take it for a rhetorical question. Sarada felt tension moving to her fingers and she was folding must faster and less gentle.

Sakura stopped folding. A while back, before Sasuke left them for his dangerous mission, she had promised him one thing. That while he was gone, she would help Sarada understand his sacrifice. She'd abolish all the hate and feeling of abandonment and resentment in her, so when he returned, she wouldn't be so cold with him—that she would understand enough to forgive him for the years he'd been away.

She studied the hurt look in her daughter's eyes and realized how hard of a job it would be to uphold that promise. Sakura sighed.

"Sarada, listen." Her hands went to Sarada's shoulders, her hold on her was gentle but firm at the same time. Sarada could feel it breaking down the tension that had made her body gone rigid.

Sakura's eyes softened on her daughter, her voice falling into a consoling whisper. "Your dad loves you." Even though her voice was soft then, her claims were delivered with such conviction it flushed all the anger out of the young Uchiha. Now all Sarada felt was confliction. Accepting her mother's words weren't easy especially when the truth was as clear as day: her father wasn't around. He was never around, so how then could her mother offer her that line. If true, wouldn't he be around, here to teach her?

Sarada sniffled a bit. "It's hard to believe it when he's not here to confirm it, mama. I don't get…I don't understand."

"Sara, honey. Believe me, when I tell you this, for I know your father more than anyone. He loves you and cares for you and would do anything for you. I swear."

Sakura pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "He doesn't have to be here now to confirm his love. Real love is not so easily confirmed by words. It is best seen through actions. And honey, his actions speaks his love in far greater volumes than words could ever do."

Sarada thought about that for a while, letting it sink in. It sounded wise, but it didn't make sense to her. The whole thing sounded like yet another attempt at steering her away from the seeming truth. What were his actions in displaying his love? She couldn't remember the last time he hugged her, tucked her in bed, or smiled at her when she did something to make him proud.

What actions? Sarada knew not to ask her mother this. It wouldn't get her any answers—any real answers, anyway. So she feigned understanding by returning her mother's hug and nodding her head against her warm chest.

She was done asking questions only to receive half ass attempts at the truth. She was done wallowing in her insecurities and letting it thwart her focus at reaching her dreams. Sarada's patience had waned and left her with this new resolution. To accept her predicament without any question, because questions were poking holes in her heart letting in all the hurt and insecurities.

Sarada broke her mother's hug, offered her one last reassuring smile before taking out the paper tucked inside her back pocket. She unfolded it and handed her the paper. Sakura took it from her, eyes narrowing and her lips curling up into a puzzled smile.

Sakura's eyes ran left to right as she read the paper, her smile widening with every line read until her teeth were exposed and her brows arching up to her forehead in excitement.

"This is perfect!"

Sarada nodded with a smile. "I know and I want you to teach me, mama."

Sakura's smile fell a little. "You do?"

"Yes, mama. I want you to teach me some cool jutsus."

"But—"

Sarada's smile hadn't left her face, but it wasn't as pronounced as before. "I want to bring in the best jutsu ever."

"I told you," Sakura said. "Your dad—"

"But he's not here!" Sarada snapped. She quickly composed herself, then added, "I can't wait another year to learn a jutsu. This assignment is my final project before graduating to become a genin. If I don't have one ready, I can't become a genin."

"I'm sure he'll be home by then, Sarada."

"Mama." Sarada held out both hands in front of her. "If I don't have a jutsu by the end, I can't graduate. I'll never forgive you or dad if I'm kept from graduating."

Sakura's brows knit together in worry. This placed her in an uncomfortable spot, one that seemed to leave her in a stalemate. She didn't want to rob either her daughter or husband of a chance to bond, but if she refused, she'd deny her daughter the chance to advance in the shinobi field, and possibly worsen the rift between her and her father. However; if she accepted, she'd deny Sasuke the chance of teaching their daughter a new jutsu and bonding with her. There was no easy answer for her, whatever choice she made, she'd hurt the two people she loved most in the world.

Sakura closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath that made her chest expand. When she reopened her eyes, her lips hinted up to form a hesitant smile, then said: "I really want you to share this with your dad."

Sarada ripped the paper from her mother's hand and stormed off. Sakura didn't flinch since she expected that reaction. Sarada was young. Her comprehension of the world and how it worked was still very limited, and because she lacked the sagacity to unravel the complexities of the world, her anger and frustration were justified.

There was no point in forcing her to accept her father's absence as something necessary. Sakura knew all too well the dangers and ineffectiveness of forcing a person to adopt a mindset; she had learned with Sasuke when she tried forcing him to turn away from the darkness. Instead of doing as she begged him to do, he did just the opposite. He turned away from her words and ran straight into the darkness, arms spread out and head hung back as he embraced the cold yet alluring aura of the darkness.

She didn't want to do the same to Sarada. Perhaps the allowed freedom and space would help smooth the tension between the two. Though she did not waver in her response to Sarada, she still wasn't sure if her choice was the right choice, if there was even a right choice to make anyway. It was certain, in her effort to mend the broken bond between her daughter and her husband, she was putting a wedge between herself and Sarada.

Because Sarada took her words with little value, Sakura's plight was hardly solvable with words. To Sarada, Sakura's lies were just lies with the semblance of truth. This made convincing her that her father's absence had nothing to do with her harder. Sakura needed provisions infallible enough to erase all remnant of doubt in Sarada.

Sadly, the only proof substantial enough in washing away Sarada's insecurities was Sasuke's presence. Sakura stood holding the fabric she had been folding, she was looking out in front of her with eyes swimming in pools of white forlornness. Sarada had ran into the house, no longer in sight.

She wanted to follow Sarada, tell her everything she wanted to hear, but in doing so she was going against Sasuke's wishes, and also inadvertently jeopardize Sarada's well-being. She placed the folded laundry back into the basket before walking into the house.

Sunlight from outside streamed through the crevices left by the swaying curtains; the shaft of gilded rays stretched its warmth across the many open spaces of the large manor. In the shafts of light, specks of dust danced with fervor, undisturbed by the soft current of air slipping through the little cracks on the window. Sakura removed the bonnet she had been wearing from earlier, placed it on the arm of the couch. Her eyes swept the house; she was sensing for Sarada's chakra pattern, sensing to see her mood. And from the vibes she was receiving, Sarada had cooled down since storming out.

With a sigh that expanded her chest, the pinkette crossed the room and went up the winding staircase leading to the second floor rooms. When she reached Sarada's door, her hands refrained from knocking.

Her ears pricked up like a cat pricking its ear at a distant sound. Her eyes shifted, brows knitting as she turned to press an ear to her daughter's door, listening for anything other than silence.

The sound of pen scratching against paper was all she heard. Here and there, a sniffle from Sarada would disturb the natural beat of the pen hitching against the paper. Sakura peeled her ears from the door and knocked.

"Sarada, I'm coming in." Sakura announced before opening the door. She peered her head into the room. The curtains had been splayed aside to allow a bright blanket of the sun's rays into the room. She squinted at the brightness and walked in, closing the door behind her.

Sarada hadn't looked up from what she was doing, but her eyebrows had furrowed, dipping down behind her glasses.

"I'm signing the slip." Sarada bit out, her eyes still on the paper before her. "I'll learn a new jutsu on my own. I just emailed Boruto. Since he and I are without attentive fathers we'll find a way to learn a new jutsu."

Sakura swallowed the anger that rose in her chest, but some of it leaked into her voice when she spoke next. "You are being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Sarada challenged, finally looking up to meet her mother with a glare that resembled her father's it made Sakura's heart jolt in her chest.

Sakura shook her head with disapproval. "You need a parent's signature; keep up the sass—"

"What sass? You act like me wanting to know why my father isn't around is sass?"

"No, but you making ludicrous statements about him is not only disrespectful but slanderous and untrue."

"What would you know about the truth?" Sarada spits out with venom, her eyes widening with unrepressed rage.

That had been it for Sakura. That was the last straw; she had been trying so hard to contain some of her anger to give Sarada a chance to hash out her feelings, and maybe progress into some semblance of understanding. But the tone Sarada was taking with her and the ill-mannered way she regarded her father was unacceptable.

Sakura's shoulders shook with anger and before she knew it her fist was colliding with the wall. The infrastructure shattered and crumbled, as little pieces of the dried cement sprinkled onto the floor until a crack sidled its way up to the crook of the ceiling. The crack, split opened, went up, haphazard, as other parts of the wall, one that had been spared of Sakura's super strength swelled open with cracks.

Sarada jumped from her bed and evaded a thick piece of falling ceiling. The flat shapeless slice of ceiling snagged on the fabric of her comforter, forcing her bed to wobble against the weight as more ceiling bits fell like rain.

Realizing the destruction she had made with her fist, Sakura's eyes reopened, widened; she was already regretting unleashing her anger. She hooked an arm around Sarada's arm—turning, her viridian eyes darted, as she searched for an escape before the entire manor leveled and buried them.

Her eyes landed on the window which had now been shattered from the walls coming apart. Taking a literal leap of fate, Sakura jumped out the window with her daughter held tightly in her arms. They escape with only a few scratches and dusted hair and dusted skin.

They stood a great distance from the house that was still caving from the impact. Sarada's mouth slacked open, and Sakura, who'd been kneeling down, watched on as the house came down on itself. When the final wall fell, Sakura's head fell down to the ground. What the hell will her husband say when he returns to find the home he grew up in destroyed?

"Mom," Sarada said, her voice unbelieving, matching the look in her eyes. "What did you do?"

Sakura shook her head disbelief. "I think I just destroyed our home."

Sarada ran to the house, Sakura followed. They stood on what remained of their home, their eyes scanning the area with desperate hope, searching for anything that survived.

Sarada kicked through the rubble and revealed beneath it was a picture of her father in his younger years. She picked it up and as she did, the frame enclosing the picture broke away. The broken glass shattered completely as the frame keeping it intact snapped off.

Sarada's hands shook as she looked down at the picture in her hands. When the frame broke and the glass the picture hid behind shattered and fell away, a true picture exposed. Sarada discarded the picture of her mom that was taped over the real picture, and held the image of her father closer to her face. It was her dad; he looked the same as the other image, but now it wasn't her mother that stood beside him. Now, standing beside him were two other people: a man, despite his white hair, looked the same age as her father. His teeth were jagged and revealed into a furtive grin. Sarada's thumb brushed over some dust and as the dust scratched off the image, a woman with red hair was shown. Her face was framed by a pair of thin rimmed glasses just like Sarada's.

The young girl's heart stopped in her chest as the cool realization hit her. Was this woman?

She gulped, eyes turning red-rimmed as the image stared back at her with an unwavering taunt. Her fingers trembled under the picture, making the image shake and blur.

Sakura appeared behind Sarada and noticed the picture in her hands.

"Sarada," she began, but before she could defend the picture Sarada swiveled on her heels to meet her mother's eyes. Her own eyes pricking with tears as the picture in her hands shook.

Sarada's face twisted into a tearful grimace as she tried to form words. When her lips couldn't stop quivering long enough to let words escape, she looked up at her mom with questions burning in her onyx eyes.

Sakura cringed at the expression she wore, it was something she'd never seen. So much pain mixed up with betrayal.

"Who's…who's this woman with dad and why is she wearing glasses like me?" Sarada had calm herself down, but her voice was still subdued by hiccupped breaths.

Before Sakura could answer, the last remaining wall of the house fell with a crash. The ground beneath them shook and Sakura buried her face in her hands.

"I'm still paying off the loan," Sakura said, her words coming out muffled with her face still buried in her hands.

Unexpectedly and before answering Sarada's question, the pinkette collapsed on top the pile of rubble.

Sarada blinked back tears. "Mom?"

Author's Note:

So I drew some inspiration from some of the panels in the manga. I wanted to somehow incorporate Sakura destroying their home; I really wanted to show Mrs. Uchiha's badass strength. Anyway, this was written with the intent to add another layer to the rift between Sarada and Sasuke. I intend to continue writing one-shots with unrelated plots, but now in many of the one-shots, it'll be in the back of Sarada's mind to find her father and ask him who this woman is.

This one-shot will have a part two, or better said, it will have another one-shot alluding to it. I do intend to have Sarada completing her final assignment to become a genin at some point (in future one-shots). Still to be determined who she learns the new jutsu from.

I do apologize for taking so long to update; spring semester is no joke.

AND thanks to this snowstorm, I was allowed some time to update! I hate snow, but it had my back for once.

Thank you for reading and please leave me a few words on your thoughts on this.