Sarada browsed over the stall with a little too much care. Selections of tuna laid out before her, stacked and terraced in rows and buried in spotted sunlight from the linen canopy. A snaking wind blew through the narrow, swarming market street, picking up the scent of fish and carrying it into her. She liked the taste, but hated the smell. It would not stop her from making the right choice, however. Tuna was an important component of the Uchiha clan's afternoon plans, and this decision could not be rushed, no matter how eager she was to return home from her mission. Despite Sarada's best efforts, it did nothing to prevent her restlessness from surfacing past her cheeks. The fellow behind the stall pivoted from the salt-stained crates she was stacking to peer down towards her customer.

"I'll share a trade secret. The freshest catches start from the right."

Having picked out her words from the cacophony around them, Sarada looked up from her impossible decision to the woman, then to the fish on her right, and promptly back at the fishmonger.

"Thank you! It means a lot. I'll take this one," she said, handing her the meat to wrap.

"That's how I keep 'em coming back," the woman boasted.

She raced down the winding corridors of carts, hurriedly picking out a head of cabbage and a cucumber before emerging onto the main street. The sun seemed to shine brighter than before, undiluted by the trappings of industry, and Sarada appreciated leaving the suffocating aromas behind her. A breeze whipped tips of black hair across her nose as she realized her speedwalking likely looked rather silly, and forced herself to slow down.

Sarada couldn't help it. These days she found her mind wandering; during missions, at training, running errands, even hanging out with friends. Her family was together, and even their most mundane plans tended to monopolize her thoughts. More than a month had passed since her father had returned for good, and she knew that there was no longer a need to rush things. All the time in the world was now theirs to spend side by side. Still, Sarada unconsciously reverted to all but skipping across the cobblestone. House after house flew by in the residential block. When she came to the final turn, she broke out into a sprint aimed directly at her home, speckled with birds across the roof, balcony and flower baskets, and among the trees that wreathed the dwelling. Collecting herself, she slid open the front door.

"Guess who's home?" Sarada announced.

"One of my favorite children! Welcome home Sarada," Sakura replied.

"'One of,' Ha, ha, very funny Mama."

Sarada found her mother finishing bundling food into a basket in the kitchen while Sasuke rounded the corner from their spare room and closed the door behind him with his heel, a lumbering blanket rolled over his shoulder. The fingers on the man's hand curled above the fabric, barely visible, and wagged in greeting. Only a candle on the countertop lit the wheat-tinted walls of the room. Much to Sarada's surprise, Sakura extinguished the flame with a breath and started walking with Sasuke, basket in tow, past the dark cedar panels in the hall and towards the door, before she had even removed her shoes.

"Well? Let's go!" Sakura continued. "We've been waiting forever and your papa is dying of hunger, isn't that right Dear?"

Sasuke smiled. "You did remember the tuna, didn't you?"

"Of course," Sarada snickered. She found it funny that even her father, the patron saint of composure, could occasionally get impatient.

"Let me carry it for you," Sasuke offered courteously, but with an unusually mischievous grin freshly sprawled across his jaw.

Sakura blocked him with an arm over his chest as he reached to grab the fish.

"Food is to be eaten at the picnic, not haphazardly on the way to the picnic."

Sasuke and Sarada snuck a glance at each other before Sasuke chuckled and Sarada's laughter bounded around the house.


"He can't smell it!"

"There's no way. Maybe he ignored it?," Sakura offered.

"He can't, not even a little bit," Sarada maintained. "It was the worst thing I've ever smelled. We could smell the cat pee before we saw him."

Sarada was laying down on the blanket backwards, looking up at her parents behind her and gesturing wildly. She started chewing another pickled plum. Narrating to them the events of her missions was one of her favorite rituals.

"And no one mentioned it to Mitsuki his entire walk there?" Sakura asked. "Eww."

"Right? No one. We tried having him smell different things all day long, but he could smell them all. His sense of smell is actually amazing."

Sakura shook her head in pity for the boy. Sarada looked to the side to see her father listening intently, but otherwise stoic. He was busy finishing one of who-knows-how-many portions of fish. Behind them a field of tall, windswept grass billowed in unrelenting sunlight. They had found shade a few trees into the woods, where the whipping of the wind was muffled by broad trunks and rustled the leaves above.

"You know, that reminds me," Sakura leaned closer to Sasuke, who in turn closed his eye and smirked, acutely aware of the story being told. "When we were kids, Naruto was always getting jealous of your father."

At the mention of her father's past, Sarada propped herself up and kneeled attentively, eager to cling to every word. She was grateful for how thick their blanket was. The lumpy soil and roots beneath were hardly felt.

"Kakashi once ended our training by making us each hit the center of ten targets with shuriken. We finished quickly, but Naruto couldn't hit a single one. Sasuke was tired of waiting, so he threw ten at once, hitting all of Naruto's targets."

Sarada rehearsed the scenario in her mind, standing in for her father. Imaginary wooden boards littered the trees and posts all around the open illusory space. Ten? At the same time? No more than six shuriken fit between each finger, eight with thumbs. No matter how many methods she attempted, none produced the storied outcome. Sarada's eyes glowed with reverence.

"Papa, you need to show off more. That's so cool!"

Sasuke's eye was stone sober.

"I wouldn't be as cool if I showed off, would I?"

"No," Sarada admitted. "I'd still like to see that, though."

"Naruto got so mad that he tackled Sasuke into the swamp beside us," Sakura carried on. "They both smelled like death for a week!" Sakura corrected herself, taunting, "Well, not you my prince. The scent of brooding never went away."

"You think that's bad," Sasuke retaliated. Sarada was surprised that her father had his own story to tell. He spoke and moved more leisurely than he used to, with hollow spots having filled with purpose, but was still normally reluctant to open up about his life. "Sakura…" he paused briefly, letting the significance of his words take their toll on his wife, whose cheeks were now burning red. When she didn't interrupt, Sasuke went on. "Broke a bottle of orange perfume she was carrying in her bag."

"Naruto wouldn't stop calling me Citrus," Sakura included with hands covering her face.

"Why did you bring perfume with you?" Sarada questioned. Perfume did not seem like the sort of thing the serious ninja of old took into the field.

"She tried a new scent every day, to see which one I liked the most," Sasuke answered in her place.

"Mama!" Sarada giggled, disbelief stitched into her voice.

"You knew about it?!" Sakura exclaimed, mortified.

"Well? Did it work?" Sarada pried. She had leaned forward on two palms. This line of questioning would be taken as far as it could.

Sasuke took a deep breath, considering his childhood seriously. Self-reflection was lacking in his repertoire of strengths.

"It didn't make me fall in love with your mother back then." Sasuke sniffed the air to his right, above Sakura's head. "But I like whatever scent this is."

Sarada thought she might die from secondhand embarrassment as her parents cuddled each other. Her mother was clearly enjoying being fawned over however, and Sarada retrieved her camera from her bag and snuck a picture. Sakura noticed and snatched the camera from Sarada's grasp as she and Sasuke moved over to her, squishing their child between them. Sarada had to correct her mother as she depressed the button on top.

"Mama, it's backwards."

Sasuke had always been an affectionate man, and time was helping him better show it. Or perhaps his love was a new thing, manifested through a family united. Sarada hoped it was the former and, based on the short glimpses she got into her parents' past, that was the most likely. Outsiders couldn't see it. She didn't mind, though, as she held her place among the precious few who could.

As the trio relaxed from their photo-posing, Sakura leaned into Sasuke, each propping one another up. Sarada laid her head on her father's lap and let gravity dissipate the strain in her shoulders down and out beneath her. She let her eyelids slump closed. A hand from Sakura rested on Sasuke's thigh while the other held Sarada's hand. Sasuke was absentmindedly petting his daughter's hair. Moments floated by into minutes before words softly loosened from Sarada's mouth.

"Mama."

"Hmm?"

"Those trees behind the house," Sarada hesitated. "My friends think one would be fun, and… Can we build a treehouse?"

"I'm going to be working late for a while, so you'll have to help your father with it. He never was very handy," Sakura responded.

"I'll retrieve the lumber from our storage in town in the morning," Sasuke added.

"Let me know if we still have any nails left before I leave for the hospital tomorrow. I can pick them up on my way home."

She had been expecting her mother to deliberate on it, or at least pretend to. Much less to make one of her far too frequent arm jokes. Sarada had worried she would feel uncomfortable posing the question, as she had gotten into the habit of asking very little of her mother over the years. Yet, after hearing their answer, and with one hand squeezing hers and another on her head, it felt like the most normal question in the world. It dawned on her that her parents might be trying to make up for lost time. They may have agreed to anything at that moment. She would not be the one to deprive them of this opportunity.

"Really?"

"Yes, yes! I would have loved a treehouse when I was your age," Sakura confirmed.

Sasuke slowly nodded his assurance.

"Then can it be on the end? So I can see it from my window," Sarada said, illustrating the simple picture drawn up in her head.

Sakura pumped the air with a fist and exclaimed, "That's a great idea, sweetie. Ino is going to be so jealous."

Sarada wondered whose treehouse it would really be.

On their trip home Sarada remembered the library book she packed in her bag to return. The clan detoured through old, worn streets as street lights flickered on below the early evening sky, projecting long golden spots and even longer shadows onto the pavement. Distant bustlings of market squares washed across the buildings intermittently lining the road, while scattered couples whispered back and forth, late workers hummed along to nameless songs, and returning shinobi eased into private life. The space between Sarada and her parents grew as they strolled, her pace lively. As she reached the doors to the library she glanced back, finding the couple arm in arm and pressed close. Sakura was laughing about something. Sarada groaned, swinging open a door.

Only once in the heated lobby did Sarada notice how cool the outside breeze had been. A return cart sat at the center of the atrium. There was a still austerity around it, where browsers presumably perused shelves further in, hidden from prying eyes. She placed her book among the others and went back to the lobby where her parents had gathered.

"You don't want to check something out?" Sasuke pondered.

"It's okay, I still have a few more at home," Sarada said, before asking, "Hey Papa, did people play games when you were young?"

Sasuke stared at her, dumbfounded. Was the fog of war that overcast his generation that ominous? Yes, children played games. At least he was pretty sure they did. He was less sure about any time after living alone, but Naruto certainly liked dragging him into his antics. Did those count?

"Of course we played games," Sasuke mocked.

"Good. Then close your eye and count to ten."

When Sasuke opened his eye he blinked, again dumbfounded. He turned to his wife.

"What just happened?"

Sakura shook her head and sighed, "You really never were a kid, were you?" She pointed farther into the building. "You have to find her."

For the first time since entering, Sasuke looked up at the spiraling floors above. He swore the library was larger on the inside.


"It's a good thing Mama was there or you'd still be searching," Sarada teased.

"The women's restroom is cheating," Sasuke grumbled.

Onlookers, used to her more guarded attitude with peers, might have found Sarada's behavior toward her parents immature - the way she called out to them from across the street, how she leapt into their arms with a hug, her preference for falling asleep on their couch in a three person Uchiha heap - but those thoughts never found their way into her mind. She was happy, and each day made her happier than the day before. She did not feel a need to qualify her feelings further.

Sarada was not fond of the cold, and had hurriedly thrown a baggy sweater over her clothes before heading out. Still, the weather had yet to fully arrive at its coolest season, which caused her father to forgo a cloak. It was a shame. Both she and her mother took great pleasure in hiding beneath it on walks, but an arm draped across her would have to do. Sarada thought she might see a kunai pouch lining her father's waist, without being concealed under clothing, but failed to locate one. She could not remember where he stored his favorite things: sharp objects.

"By the way Papa, don't you carry weapons anymore? Evil could be stalking us as we speak, after all."

Sakura peeked her head out in front of the man standing between them.

"Sarada, you don't understand," she said with unexpected gravity, and then, in as deep of a register as she could muster, "He is the weapon."

"Oh. My. God."

Sasuke was beaming.

"We're plenty safe with your mother around," he declared, their syncopated footsteps underscoring his sentence, "but I keep a few tricks up my sleeve." He then shifted his hand and theatrically pulled a shuriken out from behind Sarada's ear, brandishing it lightly.

Sarada craned her head to the projectile on her right, then to its owner, whose forehead wrinkled in anticipation of praise for the sleight of hand. She squinted in disapproval.

"Where do you keep those? Are they just hanging out in your sleeve, stabbing you every time you move?" Sarada asked while patting down the sleeve curved behind her neck. She envisioned her father clinking with every step in a shuriken chainmail.

"One day I'll teach you the art of hiding unlimited supplies in zero pockets." The slim container strapped to Sarada's leg reminded him of a genin Sasuke spending far more time than he would ever admit cramming too many tools into too small a space. "You are welcome to use any of my old equipment."

Sarada immediately lit up at the approval.

"I've seen the stash you have at home, but I wouldn't know how to use even half of them," she conceded. "Would…"

Sasuke abided for a second, giving her the freedom to finish the question before guessing at her intention.

"I teach you?"

"No," she answered, calm.

Her response visibly caught her parents by surprise, compelling an eyebrow raise out of Sasuke. Many jutsu necessitated her father's help, but not this. She wanted to, and could, master it on her own.

"What should I learn to use first?" she asked, looking up at Sasuke expectantly.

Every time his daughter sought his guidance with such conviction, holding him in higher regard than he could have ever hoped, he fought the urge to whirl to life the spirals in his eye and commit the scene to memory. Unlike most aspects of living in the village, he was confident he would never get used to the experience.

"Give wire strings a try. You'd do well with them."

Sarada nodded fiercely, eyes wide and features fixed in flustered determination.

"Be careful not to hurt yourself, they're dangerous. And only practice with friends around!" Sakura interfered with her best motherly inflection, complemented by a deviously pure smile.

"Mama, please," she moaned, rolling her eyes.

The trio found their way home and Sakura and Sarada both stretched high into the air as they stepped inside. Sasuke stopped short of the entrance. He had been putting off an obligation long enough. If he did not stay ahead of it, duty would eventually seek him out, and he preferred to have control over the initiation of his meetings. Sasuke endlessly found himself in good spirits, but it loomed, dulling the mood, and tonight was as good as any to get it off his plate.

"I need to check in with Naruto. An hour at most."

"Oh? Don't worry about the time Boo. Have fun. I bet he misses your guys' dates," Sakura said.

"See you later! Tell Uncle Naruto we say 'hi'," Sarada urged, waving as he retraced their path into town.

When Sasuke returned forty minutes later, he found his girls huddled under a blanket on their couch, fixated on a horror movie. The selfish, tortured part of his mind wanted to leave. It had been easier for him that way, at a time. Sarada noticed movement on the edge of her vision as he passed into the room, relieved for the break in her immersion.

"Papa, we have popcorn."

Sasuke took the opportunity to approach the couch, knowing that with any hesitation he would waver. Kneeling from behind, he lowered a nervous hand on Sarada's shoulder.

"Sarada, Sakura." His words' caution challenged their wistfulness. They struggled against his chest. Sakura muted the television while forgotten dread bubbled to life.

"I have a mission."

"A mission…" Sakura murmured. She considered that he could have taken on a low ranking errand to help out around the village, but his meetings with Naruto were sinister affairs. She believed, or wanted to believe, he was truly done.

"One more mission. It's the last one," Sasuke assured, to himself most of all. "I leave in the morning."

So soon.

Sakura recalled untold hushed chats after lights went out. At her hands, Sasuke was an open book. Every night she asked what he was thinking, and every night he told his story. It hit her that with all she wished to read into him, his wandering became secondary. She had assumed those days were behind them. Anyone else may have felt misled. Sakura was not anyone else, however. She bore his torments, his shame, his devotion, and everything in between. They said as much with words as they did with actions, with looks, with a touch, and distinct ideas called for distinct mediums. This topic simply got lost in translation.

"I don't understand. Your eye. You can't keep going, can you?"

"It's different from before. I'll be traveling north in a caravan. Naruto has been developing a permanent solution now that I don't have it," Sasuke explained. The details weren't the important part. He reiterated, "It's the last time."

Sakura was more prepared for this than she realized, and that ached more than the news. She cupped one hand with the other and ran her fingers down the bands of her ring.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked.

Sasuke sighed, exhaling through his nose.

"Two months. Maybe less if I'm fast."

"But, you're home. I thought you weren't going to- I thought you were staying."

Sarada's voice submerged him under the ocean of his guilt. He had been confident in his choices since entering his daughter's life, but losing the Rinnegan had let him exchange his task for his family without confronting that decision himself. Now, Sarada's anemic face pulsed in his view.

"I mean it, Sarada. I'll never have to take another mission like this again. I promise."

She sat up straight with newfound frustration, confusion, will. Was there any use trying to dissuade him? Was she right to try?

"But you just started helping Mama with her work. And we were going to practice genjutsu this week."

"It's not what you want to hear, I know. When I'm back."

"Why does it have to be you? Can't someone else lose a parent for once?"

Sasuke knew misdirected anger better than anyone. Answering questions honestly was the best way forward. "My Sharingan. The mission can't be done without it."

Sarada was wholly acquainted with the proper procedure for mission rankings and team assignments. She had already captained an abundance of her own, facilitated by rational decisions on top of thorough preparation within level-headed strategy. Even so, she was being met with too much at once, and could not help but argue heart over head.

"I'll come with you, then. You're not the only one that has it anymore, you know."

"Sarada," her mother warmly lamented, suddenly alongside her younger self, "If it's a mission for your father, it's not one you should be going on."

Her vision blurred with tears. Sasuke had left so many times before, and so many times before Sarada had struggled through the hurt, patiently waiting for even one more fleeting day. This time, however, she was blindsided, her pain magnified by the weight of their time together. Grabbing onto his arm as though to tether him to his new life, Sarada pleaded frantically.

"Papa, you can't leave again! You can't leave us!"

"Sarada," He had too much left to say, but his heart ruptured at the sight of his daughter's weeping. He was wrong; as wrong as he had been to be derelict for so many years. He did not know what the right course of action had been, but anything that made his baby girl suffer was unjust. Sasuke was nauseous, disgusted by the manifestation of his choices given form in his mind. A cold, writhing, inky mass. The most powerful man alive, unable to uphold his own family. "I'm sorry."

With energy she did not have, Sarada barreled off the couch and down the hall to her room.

Sasuke's head hung low, clouded with impossible decisions storming against his skull, but a gentle hand effortlessly returned him to his living room. Sakura's cheeks were lined with wet streaks. He wiped them aside with the back of a finger, and she choked on her words.

"I don't know if Sarada can go through this another time." Silence briefly lingered between them. "You've paid your dues. Many times over. This mission isn't your burden."

They were treading familiar waters.

Sasuke let his head dip and said, "Mission or not, I would do it to protect you two. I couldn't rest knowing I didn't take this chance."

"I know that. You know I know that." Sakura disconnected from her husband and stood, shaking the blanket off. Every muscle in her body was strained. Standing still, she focused her attention to her side where distant grief crept through the house and hung against the wall. "It's not me you have to comfort."

Sasuke followed Sakura's lead and stood, starting towards the doorway.

"Maybe you should wait," Sakura interrupted. "In the morning."


"Naruto."

Sasuke closed the door to the Hokage's office as quickly as he opened it, in a single motion, and found Naruto alone at his desk. The walk home from the library with his family betrayed his ordinarily flat expression.

"Sasuke! You look better than ever. Did you and Sakura find some time to…" Naruto motioned to and fro with his hands, successfully indicating both nothing and something at once.

"It's good to see you too."

They shared a knowing smile as Naruto brushed scroll after scroll suffocating his desk off into the mountains of their brethren beneath. Sasuke had always thought his way of making people feel welcome and attended to was ridiculous. Something as symbolic as swiping things onto the floor to clear the space between them.

What a loser.

"I just came to check up on things. The girls said 'hi,' and Sakura still wants to catch up one of these days, but tonight they're waiting-"

Naruto grinned his huge grin.

"Hey, don't sweat it! I wouldn't wanna take you away from them any longer than I have to." He stood, letting his chair creak as it skidded against wooden panels. Naruto avoided tower after tower of papers and shifted around the desk. "That being said, I'm glad you came. It was finished this morning."

"Already?"

Sasuke's brow narrowed as Naruto produced a small, red and green cylinder plastered with seals from his jacket.

"I'm sure I don't need to go over the details but, you do remember the plan, right? I know it's been years since we talked about this."

"Naturally. Which is why I'm confused. Neither of us learned the technique to apply the final seal."

"We're out of time. Every day that goes by puts the village - puts everyone - at risk. We both know that you were more suited to it anyways. I'm not my dad, after all." Naruto put on a labored smile, leaning back onto his desk with a hand behind his neck. Sasuke placed the capsule into a pocket and commiserated.

"All these years, and we never came up with an alternative," he exhaled, affirming as a matter of fact. He would have to figure it out on his own. Typical.

"We can't rely on strength alone these days," Naruto said.

"Speak for yourself."

Naruto laughed and clasped Sasuke's shoulder.

"Sorry Sasuke. I know you want to do things differently now, but we all know you're a good guy."

"This is it, you know. This chapter of my life is closing," Sasuke reminded him.

"Yeah."

They let the weary evening breeze that drifted through the window speak for them, before Naruto navigated the path back to his chair and went on with specifics.

"You should leave in the morning. There's a caravan you can take part of the way there; you're gonna want to lay low. You aren't teleporting there this time, and we can't risk letting knowledge of this plan fall into rogue ninja's hands, let alone having them interfere."

Sasuke did not need a briefing. There were aspects of the mission that he was unprepared for, but the answers he needed could not come from his friend. With a nod Sasuke did what he feared most and opened the door to leave.


Sasuke awoke as the sky outside their bedroom window threatened to brighten. He had resolved to wake up early, but not to sleep so soundly through the night. Off long deserted trails, towering above forest floors atop lean branches and roofed by lightning, occupying condemned inns within wicked towns, he could rest easy. At home, concern for those around him was a rope that yanked him awake to stray noises whispering in the distance, and it was a lengthy process reconditioning himself. Still, it never bothered him. The sound of mellow snores down the hall and the sight of rosy, rippled hair on the next pillow over each hour he was guided back to consciousness were compensation enough. Neither reward met him today.

He walked through the hallway and passed Sarada's open door, the room unoccupied. Sakura was brewing tea in the kitchen.

"Good morning," they exchanged.

"Where's Sarada?" Sasuke asked. She hated mornings; like mother like daughter, though the mother had a clinic to operate.

Sakura struggled to make eye contact, fixated on her pot and the flame beneath. Still, she looked up before speaking.

"She already left."

"This early? Her assignment isn't for hours."

"I'm so sorry, Sasuke," Sakura whimpered. "I shouldn't have told you to wait."

Sasuke could hardly believe his own naivete. He would have done the same once upon a time, albeit in a somewhat less well-adjusted manner. With a prompt series of steps he reached the stove and wrapped his arm around his beloved's wobbly frame.

"It's my fault, not yours. You were right to give her time."

"But we should be there for her," Sakura reacted, and twisted around to return the hug. "We have the opportunity to do things the right way. The way they should have been done for you at her age."

Sasuke smiled with his chin settled on Sakura's head.

"Waiting one night is not the same as waiting years. Besides, our daughter is far more sensible than I ever was."

Sakura chortled into her husband's shirt, and a bubble of mucus escaped her nose.

"Shoot, sorry," she said, still laughing as she grabbed a towel and patted away the stain.

Sasuke brought the water to the kitchen table as Sakura set down two cups, and the couple poured and sipped their tea in neighboring chairs.

"Is there anything about the mission you can talk about?"

"Not much."

"What about where you're going? I don't have to worry obviously, but I still want to know."

Sasuke contemplated its timeline with his drink on the table.

"Other than 'north,' I shouldn't say," he said, but reassured, "Naruto will involve you and a few others once I'm back."

Sakura nodded. There were always a host of reasons to hold the details against one's chest.

"I wish you had said something about this. You may have found out yesterday, but obviously knew it was going to eventually happen for ages."

Sasuke opened his mouth to reply but Sakura interrupted, having preemptively answered her own question.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you didn't want to worry us."

Sasuke extended an enduring, familiar gaze which Sakura met. Per usual, he wondered what he did to deserve his wife's compassion.

"You were wrong, though. You should have brought it up anyway."

"I know," Sasuke agreed.

Sakura took another sip, slouching back and propping her heels up on the chair across the table.

"And what about others? Why are you still going alone?"

"Coincidence. It's covert, so less is more. If all goes well, there won't be any conflict."

"Dunno about that. With a little time to get things in order at the hospital I could have come along. I could have, I don't know, boosted your morale," Sakura hinted.

Sasuke smiled a tiny yet sincere smile. It was a joke. There was another reason for her to remain in the village.

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"I'll miss you," she said. "I'll miss your cooking too."

Sasuke scoffed and regarded her curiously.

"You're taking this better than I expected."

"Hey, I can keep myself together when I want." Sakura infused mock defiance into her tone as they finished their drinks.

Sasuke shook his head, dissatisfied, mirroring Sakura's slouch and crossing his ankles.

"When I brought you flowers last week you cried four separate times throughout the day."

Sakura involuntarily scrunched her lips tight and turned away to the nearest window, reluctant to let her face speak on her behalf. She would not let the count rise above four.

"Well it was just so sweet!" Quietly she added, "It's not every day one of your childhood dreams come true."

Sasuke felt unnoticed tension in his cheekbones disperse and chastised his former self for not doing it long ago.

"Besides, we know when you'll be back this time. That makes it easier."

Dry cups sat undisturbed for a stretch before both spouses stood, bracing themselves for their respective departures. Sakura took the sack her husband had packed the night before and raised its strap over his head so it slung around and off his back. Seldom, when she assisted with household tasks, and only in moments of uncompromising security, Sasuke admitted to struggling with missing an arm. She hoarded reasons to loathe the thought of him venturing back out on his own, and being unable to come to his aid was near the top of the pile, even if he had managed for a decade. His vulnerability was a precious thing, and she would not betray it by troubling him with these particular anxieties. One day, but not today.

"I meant it. When I'm done, I'll be staying. Forever."

"Sarada knows."

A dejected frown emerged from somewhere beneath Sasuke.

"You will have to be there for her in my place." As usual. "Even though it isn't your responsibility."

"Oh, quit that. It is too my responsibility. All three of us are here for each other."

Sakura leveraged arms around his neck, pulling herself up into a kiss.

"We both love you," she said.

"I love you both."


Treetops carved the outline of the horizon as Sasuke strode along, bordered by a gleaming yellow fused against muted blues and grays higher above. He mulled over looking back, and what would receive that look: the stone sculptures, the city above the city, the districts he had been forbidden from visiting with his brother. There was no reason, he concluded. The only building he would be happy to see was the one he just left, and was already too distant for it to be in view. The way back home was to traverse away from it, a long, long way out.

The air stung with energy even minutes away from the main gate, like anticipation of a destructive battle. Casualties were improbable today, thankfully, at least from combat. Sasuke identified more and more would-be voyagers loosely weaving onto his route as he progressed toward the entrance, an abnormally large proportion of whom were securing head starts on drinks, steeping the area in sweet, fruity fumes. With his cloak in his bag, he was suddenly grateful for Sakura's input on his presentation. She had gathered his hair into a very short, unkempt ponytail, pulling back all but thin trusses on the sides of his face, a featureless forehead protector stripped of its metal plate slanting across his single set of closed lids. It felt appropriate to honor his mentor's relinquished image. He was reasonably sure that only one widespread photograph of himself circulated outside the shinobi world, and it hardly showcased his face, so even these small changes were likely enough to disassociate his identity. Regardless, he certainly would not have bothered adjusting his appearance had his personal stylist not fanatically thrown around phrases like 'unfairly hot.'

A gradual turn merged Sasuke's street into the enormous open plaza leading to the entrance. All his senses had hinted at what awaited him at the start of his journey, but without the proper grandiosity. The caravan was massive. Five hundred people? One thousand? They were scattered around near him and clustered more densely as they converged on the front, or what he thought might be the front. The assembly stuck out past the open gate and onto the wide dirt path beyond, where heavy wear was tearing up the soil. Carts dotted the throng, some pulled by horses and oxen, along with elongated, roofed passenger wagons and a handful of taller, pagoda-like vessels. Many of the structures were decorated in red and gold, covered in lanterns and torches, hanging scrolls, decorative sheets, trinkets and paint, matching the prevalent dress theme among the folk. Fortunately for him, several rather modest travelers interspersed throughout, and he could suppress a harrowing urge to find new clothes.

Sasuke dove into the crowd where warm bodies heated the frigid dawn air and shielded against an everlasting wind. Following three minutes of carefully slipping through people occupied on all sides, he speculated that he was past the halfway point and claimed a vacant spot where the atmosphere was especially festive. No other individuals populated the surrounding spaces apart from the occasional roaming vendor, only groups of more than three stood together, and he figured they were less prone to starting up a dialogue on the way. Nevertheless, chatter roared around him, signaling that the party was expected to carry on deep into the night. Naruto insisted on secrecy, and Sasuke had agreed with all of the rationale, but with his current qualms and company, he wanted nothing more than to sprint to his destination.

On the back of his careful scheduling, the caravan readied to depart almost immediately after he arrived in his place. Heavy drums reverberated in imperfect unison from front to back, and the assembly decompressed in a wave as people began staggering forwards.


Sarada was doing her best to keep her head down; to avoid eye contact. She had the element of surprise, but was still unconvinced about tracking her target before being discovered herself, pressuring her to press the advantage by staying alert. Even thirty minutes out she did not feel safe, periodically catching a sharp movement or glimmer of color in the distance, visible only as a new sightline abruptly opened between swaying forms. She squinted, desperately wishing she could put her bloodline to use without risking detection, until her potential quarry rapidly receded back behind the masses. Was it them? The shirt was the right shade, and the height was close, but a carelessness about their gait gave her doubt. Habitually, Sarada found herself tapping a foot, half against the air and half against the wall under her seat. The fact that her legs came up just short of the floor below her bench only served to heighten her anxiety. She did not belong here.

This was a terrible idea, and she knew it. That it would get harder until it got easier had been clear from the night before, but the most difficult part was over with. Any choices to be made were now firmly in the past, and there was nothing to do but continue onward.

Even with that understanding, Sarada could not remember the last time she had been so nervous. Eyes seemed to brush over her from every direction, feeding a growing paranoia, and the cold sunk in to freeze her already rigid frame. Had she devised a more sensible plan in a healthier state of mind she might have packed something with sleeves. If nothing else, her wagon was largely unoccupied; three couples and three other solo passengers. It was a pleasant reprieve from the commotion nearby.

"Walnuts?"

Sarada let out an uncharacteristic squeak, jumping up in her seat in surprise. She whipped around to see a short, burly man outside of the vehicle outfitted with a tall hat, a smock, and a wide wicker bin harnessed around his front. He raised and brandished numerous metal scoops to present his wares.

"I've got sesame seeds, chestnuts-"

"Oh, no thank you."

A subdued bow resumed the man's passage alongside the wagon, moving on to a man and woman a dozen paces away. Sarada released the stale breath residing in her lungs, inwardly chiding herself for her shakiness. She folded her hands into her lap in front of her backpack, attempting to regain composure, and rotated back toward the front to stay vigilant. A torrent of emotions still churned within her, but she could not afford to fall apart whenever words came her way.

Damp trees glided along the banks of the already unfamiliar road, and it struck her that she had no idea where she was headed, which she really ought to know. There were countless towns of varying sizes in the Land of Fire alone, and 'north' was about the most vague itinerary imaginable. More pressingly, she was clueless about what her target would be doing on their journey, and more pressingly still, when they would be departing the caravan. The thought of being left alone crossed her mind.

"Peanut?"

"I already told-"

Sarada had steeled herself for conversation and was ready to reply this time, but she cut her sentence short as the transactional timbre and impatient cadence of the entrepreneur's speech had been replaced with a steady mindfulness, catapulting her heart into her throat. She had made a point not to get absorbed into daydreams again, making it all the more alarming that he was definitely sitting directly to her left, instead of walking behind her on the trail. She swiveled in place to be greeted by a one-eyed man offering her peanuts out of a bag.

"P-Papa?!"

Sarada lunged her arms around him in a brutal hug, spilling the peanuts across his lap.