A/N: I received a request via a review to write about how Sasuke found out about Sarada's injuries post-Deepa fight in Boruto episode 167. Surprise! I was already writing one! I hope you enjoy.

Rush Home

Of all the times he felt his body moved on its own accord, he'd never felt an instance as viscerally as this.

The message came by hawk. It was from Sakura, written in a script so rushed and scrawled that he hardly recognized it to have been her writing. Only the characters of her first and last name stood out to him, all of it having given way to her frightened state. And the words that came along with it nearly sent him into his own internal frenzy:

Sarada, critical condition.

So, when he arrived in Konoha the following evening—a trip that normally took two days—he rushed straight to the hospital. The attendant nearly collapsed with anxiety as he demanded where his daughter rested, a shaky hand guiding him through the directory of the room labeled Uchiha.

Despite the ruckus he created with the staff, he entered the room quietly. He opened the door to see Sakura's back to him, the Uchiha crest between her shoulder blades a reminder of who they both nearly lost.

His wife didn't turn to greet him. He wondered if she even noticed his arrival had it not been for the vast window that revealed their reflections, allowing him to see her verdant eyes flickering upward and back down. She was focused on studying their daughter, and he knew it was to watch for the steady rise and fall of her chest as when she was first born.

Sasuke walked to her side, his eyes trailing to Sarada's broken form and bandaged face, particularly to her left eye that was wrapped securely in white. She looked fragile. His fierce, headstrong girl was defeated.

Fiery anger blazed in his chest, but he suppressed it long enough to let relief flood him. She was safe. And with Sakura attending to her, she would recover.

With only his small family present, he felt his walls relax. Sasuke reached his hand out to Sakura to press his palm into the Uchiha crest. She turned as he guided her into his chest, felt the way her arms wrapped around his waist as she melted into his embrace for comfort. He breathed her in and let his lips press into the crown of her head, though his eyes never left Sarada's sleeping form.

"She almost died," Sakura murmured, her voice laced with the tremor of residual fear.

"If you and your team hadn't been there, she would have." The reality was cold and absolute. His relief and gratitude, though, warmed the chill that threatened to settle in his bones.

Sakura let out a shuddering breath, and he felt the dampness of tears seep through his clothes. When his wife pulled back, her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. "I never thought her case would shake me as much as it did," she admitted. "I wish it was the usual need for stitches or tending to a sprained wrist, but..."

"But a shinobi would never live a life so casual." He said it almost bitterly.

Sakura closed her eyes as if in pain, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Knowing her, it was the first time she'd cried, as her professionalism kept her clinically detached. He brushed her tears away with the pads of his fingers just before activating his sharingan and scanning Sarada's form.

Their daughter's chakra flow to her left eye was weaker than that of her right. He felt like scolding the child for her recklessness while also wrapping her in an embrace. He deactivated his sharingan and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Parenting. What a mix.

"Does Naruto know you're home?" Sakura asked, lifting her hands to cradle his face. He knew it was both for comfort and to examine him, but he said nothing about her fussing. Instead, he drew reassuring circles on her cheek with his thumb.

"He can wait."

Sakura nodded, offering a weak smile of gratitude. The smile faltered, however, when she glanced back at Sarada. His wife's fingers fell from his face. He mirrored the motion, and their hands instinctively intertwined between them.

"She'll look to you now, you know," she swallowed thickly. "She needs you."

Sasuke sighed heavily. "I know."

He carried the privilege and the burden of the sharingan, and Sarada would soon learn it. That is, if she hadn't yet come to realize its sorrowful weight. He would help her, though, and perhaps make the hardship less harrowing.

Sasuke released his wife's hand to reach out and tentatively press his palm to their daughter's forehead. Despite her state, he could already sense her fight simmering below her slumber.

"And when she seeks me out," he murmured, "I'll be here."