notes: fixed typos, and i made it longer! (1/14/2019)

rating: K

disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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15. power

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( i. mother's side )

In the back of the room, Sakura watches Sarada watch Sasuke.

Sasuke, sighing with a pair of tired dark eyes contrasting his insipid skin, already told Sarada, "It's complicated..." Sakura notes that his voice is trailing, softly and as if he didn't want their offspring to know more. "You're not ready yet."

"But Papa!" Sarada was never one to accept ambiguity in answers; she liked things simple, curt and straight-forward, something Sasuke liked to mix up with his silly riddles. He's a master of both languages—and quite frankly, Sakura could understand why their daughter bites at her lower lip, her right leg looking restricted like it was ready to stomp in a fury of indignation. But it wasn't Sakura's place to interrupt; this topic wasn't hers to discuss. It never was, not when the flashes of childhood, bittersweet and flashes of red popping up, came to mind and the feeling made Sakura dread what else could come.

"Enough, Sarada."

She thought she had seen it all, seen all of the pain Sasuke went through just to snatch some more powers for himself, for his goals, for his cracking heart. Seeing the heartbreak on Sarada's face seemed to give off some semblance of those dark days as reflected by her raging eyes, her frustrated noises. Heart uneasily beating from the tension, Sakura quietly goes back to her medical books for their privacy—though it soon fails, because it's evidently by her perking ears and meddlesome heart and the adverting of her eyes from the book to their backs that reading can't distract her anymore at this point.

Respectfully trying her utmost best to ignore the protests of a disgruntled Sarada, Sakura tries, again, to ignore how her daughter's wistful eyes stare at the back of Sasuke's head—it was as if she had meant to stare at Sasuke's eyes of obsidian and scarlet, as well as the other sole purple eye he possessed. Greed wasn't a good thing.

With sagging pursed lips, her eyes study the sentence they glaze over in her book: 'Stress isn't good for the heart, nor body. Do take care of yourself.'

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( ii. father's side )

Sasuke sometimes could feel two kinds of stares aimed at him; one was full of yearning, as opposed to a sympathetic pair. Despite it all, he never really voices his thoughts on the matter. One arm short, his free one places his newspaper on the table, immediately flipping to the next page before he takes it up again—perhaps, as a vain attempt to shield his face with as much casualness as he could.

He fights back a vexed grunt. Sarada was simply just not ready to hear the story of how he had come to obtain his Sharingan and the requirements to obtain one. He doesn't want Sarada to fall under emotional trauma like he did—she doesn't deserve that. His heart is still mending ever so slowly from those moments; he'd remembered anguish, agony, despair. Being born into the world with wide happy eyes, bell-like giggles, and practically everything he had lost, Sarada never deserved what he did.

He's just trying to protect her, really. And, he'll admit that it's starting to grow out of his hand that she just couldn't accept whatever he gave her for an answer—she wanted more, but he just couldn't do that. It's too difficult to explain himself without spilling everything. She's looking forward to it when it does, but he will persist to prevent it from such.

It's not her time. It was never her time to know.

Toying with the thought of telling her when she's far much wiser, much older, he thinks that maybe—just a maybe—that it could be doable. Maybe this silly need for power (he has to scoff, particularly at himself, at the sheer irony) of hers would be gone by then.

So, Sasuke resorts to changing the subject should she ever mention the Sharingan, and he says nothing if she gushes about how she praises it. She would stop eventually, he believes, and had told Sakura at one point. (Sakura had laughed, but he heard no humor before she escaped to the hospital that day.) Sarada had stepped out earlier today, mindlessly raving on about practice and how Boruto would lose some screws in his head if he ever knew that Konohamaru-sensei chose her to lead today's mission. (Sasuke scoffed another time at that.)

She hadn't brought it up today, about the mishap and argument they had. Occasional comments come up, out of habit than deliberate, but one thing Sasuke found strange was how Sarada almost never mentions the Rinnegan; her only attention remains on his family's kekkei genkai.

He couldn't narrow it down to it being out of interest or if she simply didn't care for the other kekkei genkai, but he slides into a third option with hope—she wants to respect the bloodline of their clan, to use it with pride that a Uchiha would normally have.

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( iii. daughter's side )

No matter what she did, to her disappointment, her Papa did not budge. She wants to feel powerful; strong enough to be feared, the longing for the strength to be able defeat foes single-handedly. Was that so wrong to wish for?

Uchiha Sarada does not like feeling dependent. She does not want her father casting discreet glares at anyone who dares to muster the gall to even hurt her. She does not like the feeling where she feels completely useless simply due to her lack of strength, even though having brains was important too for a ninja.

She wants to possess her family's mighty kekkei genkai because she believes it'll give her what she wants: power.

However, she also decides to train; train herself hard enough to the point where she'll have to crawl from tiredness. Hard work leads to success and practice makes perfect, Sarada, Sakura would tell her. Trusting the woman she trusts with everything she has, Sarada decides to try her method. Not just for Sakura's happiness, but also for Sasuke's approval—he never did like taking shortcuts, he had once confessed. He worked to have everything he had now; Mama's love was one of them, and she would always ponder how in the world her Mama kept so much loyalty to him for so long. Surely, it's because Sakura saw something in him that she grew to love.

It's not something she lets others know a lot, but Sarada always wondered about it.

'You're not ready yet.'

Her heart had thumped, a challenge had been born that day in her eyes. Sasuke didn't approve of her trying to forcibly unlock the Sharingan, ever. He would scold, admonish, chastise her and she'd plead, argue, fight back. Maybe, if she could work even harder, harder than her work right now, then maybe he'd find her more worthy. She just has to know about it—how could he not inform her on their own bloodline's secrets? She deserves to know.

So, Sarada got to work. She'd fight, she'd bruise, she'd tire out quickly; she reminds herself each time that she's doing it for Papa's worthiness. Soon, he'll tell her.

When two weeks passed—and the steady shift of seasons and weather making way for change—Sarada never felt so much adrenaline rush in her veins before. This is more adrenaline she acquired than from Konohamaru-sensei's rigorous waterfall training of running to and fro on the surface for almost an hour straight, than when she and the rest of her class came back to Konoha from their class trip to Ame after rescuing their captured classmates. Sasuke was stricken with silent awe to find his daughter standing in front of a completely demolished boulder. She hopes he saw how her chakra spiked to abnormal levels for a moment before her hand made contact. She worked so hard for it, just to do that—sheer effort went into these long fourteen days, and it showed. It hadn't been an occurring thought to her that working hard would lead to so much satisfaction, so much pride bubbling in her quickening heartbeats.

Is this what he meant by no cutting corners? No shortcuts? To let her know that working hard is much more worthwhile? Is that why Mama always told her that practice makes perfect?

Sarada just stands there, panting as she tries to calm her breathing, mind boggling with wild thoughts that she couldn't really pace slowly around. "Papa." Sasuke looks at her, and she gives him an exhausted grin to proclaim, "I think I've mastered Chidori."

He says nothing. Disappointment fills her stomach uneasily—and then, he smiles. Not a smirk like when he'd listen to Uncle Naruto's ramblings and he would slip in a sarcastic remark, but smile. "You did good. Go home and rest."

She didn't know why, but her jaw hurts and not even the grime on her skin could stop her eyes from crinkling as she walks the path home. Her chest feels much lighter, much happier. She wouldn't mind trying hard again, and maybe she can make do without the Sharingan for now.