notes: heavily modified and fixed typos! (12/27/2018)
rating: K
disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
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4. sand
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Sarada grips her Mama and Papa's hands tightly, and bites her lips. Her eyes roam over the stone the three of them stood in front of. She has to let go of her Mama's hands because Sakura has to take a step forward to set down the bouquet of lilies unto the stone's surface; Sakura makes a small prayer before stepping back again, her hands somberly resting behind her back, respect in her stance and a crestfallen frown on her lips.
The little girl's inquisitive eyes observe as her Mama gently nudges her Papa to step forward, and he complies. Sarada is young—currently living for eight years now—but even she knows that her Papa is a proud, prideful man; yet, she manages to catch sight of a single tear dripping from his closed eyes. Entranced, the young girl watches how it dripped onto the sand below them. Would the planet know how sad her parents are?
Ailed with a depressing feeling stuck in her chest, Sakura lets a grimace overtake her when she stares at Sasuke from behind before her eyes strays to her daughter of eight. "Go on dear, give him a prayer too." Her voice seems to lack the usual chiming of bells and giggles prettily chorusing without a care in the world; Uchiha Sakura seems to be the epitome of a mourning wife, that she is right now, literally and figuratively. She may not have known anyone in the family her husband grew up with (grew up and loved and treasured so, so much), but she has the brains to tell that they had engraved a deep spot within Sasuke's heart, perhaps a spot that not even she can piece up if she tried. Sasuke loved these people—he loved, cherished, and treasured them all. He respected his father, he adored his mother, and he loved his brother. Offering her presence on the day of their deaths' anniversary seemed to be the most she can do for them. Even the corners of their tombstones seem to be wearing out, bit by bit. In a few years, it'd be even more chipped.
Sasuke humbly notes how his precious little girl prays to his precious deceased family and how her sleek onyx eyes wander from his parents—Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto—to his beloved brother, Uchiha Itachi. Sarada didn't know who these people are, but even she is willing to lend her condolences for them. Showing love for those who were loved—she is a true Uchiha.
In the next minute, Sasuke's lips quirks up ruefully at the thought of two of his favorite people being together. Surely, he knows Itachi would've been a great uncle. Too bad he died before he could enter the stage of uncle-hood. Sarada would've loved hopping into his lap when he's looking at his scrolls, and perhaps he might've feigned stealing her glasses just to extract a reaction from her. Itachi could've held her hand and taken her around the town. Fugaku could've let her hop on his back as he reads his newspaper. Mikoto could've hugged her every other hour of the day, shower her with loving kisses to the cheek, and let her be an assistant as she cooks breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
So much could've happened.
However, Sasuke looks up heavenward, a prayer in mind. Itachi was probably watching over him alongside his mother and father. Sasuke was content with that.