rating: K

disclaimer: i don't own naruto.

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48. apples

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Sakura playfully wags several sticks of lollipops with her hand, each one inserted between her fingers. Her other hand clutches onto the clipboard detailing her daughter's health for this month's check-up. "Pick any one you like!"

Rolling her eyes, Sarada idly observes each one. "I'm not a kid anymore, Mama."

Eyes glistening with fond mischief, she replies, "You're my little girl, so yes. You are still a kid." Waving the lollipops again, Sakura merrily hums, "Forever and always!"

After all, what sort of mother wouldn't want their daughter to stay their little kid? Years ago, Sakura never really understood how much having her own family truly meant. She had her own mother and father, she had a normal civilian life, she had everything that some couldn't—she had everything that some people close to her couldn't. She had things that Naruto and Sasuke couldn't. Sasuke. It makes her heart swell from the thought that she could have her own family with him. A long time ago, it was hard to emphasize with Sasuke because she never really knew how much suffering he went through—but Sakura also thinks that Sarada's existence right now is proof that Sasuke is stronger than what he originally thought. He's so strong. He's always been strong. And so is Sarada. If it was possible, she'd always want Sasuke to stay her husband while she wants Sarada to stay her little girl. Because this is her family. Their family.

Sarada shakes her head, making a disgruntled noise. "What if I'm, hypothetically, married or something?"

"Still my little girl!" comes the merciless tease, Sakura's hand ruffling her little girl's hair because nothing can come in between her and her daughter, not even marriage. Personally, she thinks it would be wonderful if her little girl can find someone nice and get married someday. In retrospect, Sakura shouldn't be saying that, given her own husband's life and attitude and all, but god, it'd be great if Sarada could have her own cute love story like… Naruto and Hinata, or Sai and Ino. Maybe their sons would be a good match for her? "And maybe my grandchildren will be my… little, little girls! Or boys. I don't mind what gender they are as long as they're precious—"

Sakura thinks her daughter gets embarrassed pretty easily as Sarada vigorously clamps a hand over her mouth. "Mama! What if someone hears you?!" Looking red, Sarada appears horrified, like she's living her worst nightmare currently. "What if Aunt Ino hears you?! I don't think I can survive that!"

Behind Sarada's hand, Sakura smiles innocently. "You're right. She'd probably want to plan your whole wedding, and our apartment would be full of flower samples that we'd have to swim through, and I'll never hear the end of it from both of you." Ino is ruthless. Absolutely ruthless about these things. And y'know what? So is Sakura. Oh, to be able to plan her own daughter's wedding—!

Finally, after some thought, Sarada takes her hand off Sakura's mouth and swipes a strawberry-flavored lollipop from her hand. "I thought you had apple flavor last week?" she asks, trying to change topics and neatly unwrapping the candy wrapper.

Vowing to herself, Sakura knows that this wedding talk will continue at a later date. "It's pretty popular among the younger patients." Shoving the other lollipops back into the pocket of her medic coat, she walks back to her desk and sits down with her clipboard before rummaging through papers sprawled over her desk. "I have one more, but I'm saving that for myself."

"The saying is supposed to be 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away,' Mama," muses her daughter amusedly, licking at her lollipop. "How is that supposed to work if you are the doctor?"

"Obviously, they never considered a doctor that likes apples." Letting out a giggle, Sakura winks, thumping a pile of messy papers on her table neatly. "I'm breaking stereotypes and setting new standards for everyone! Be proud of Mama, will you?!"

Sarada smiles and shakes her head, probably thinking of something funny from the look of her smile. "You're essentially saying to eat healthier. ChouChou wouldn't like that at all."

"Should I be sorry?" asks Sakura curiously, sliding Sarada's health papers into its proper folder.

Feigning seriousness, her daughter nods. "Yes, because I'm the one who has to listen to her complaints."

Stifling a laugh, she thinks ChouChou would do more than complain. "Mama is sorry. Really, very sorry!"

"You can make up for it by giving me apple flavor next time," Sarada says, smiling broadly. "I mean, it's not my favorite out of the bunch, but I don't think I ever tried it. Watermelon was pretty good, and I think the cherry one had a strange aftertaste. Bubblegum is too sweet." Thoughtfully, she licks at her lollipop again. "Strawberry is also sweet, but not as bad as the bubblegum flavor."

Humored, Sakura places her folders at the side of her desk absently. "Look at you! My own candy connoisseur." Maybe ChouChou is rubbing off on her daughter. At least it'll be something funny to talk about if Sakura ever bumps into Karui in the future. Or Ino. Ino is such a sugar hoarder. "I hope your sweet tooth won't be inheritable."

Cheeks pink, Sarada averts her eyes and stubbornly plops the strawberry treat into her mouth before hopping up from her chair. "I think ChouChou will wonder where I am. We're supposed to meet up with Boruto and Shikadai in a bit for burgers. See you later, Mama!"

As her daughter runs out of her office, Sakura snorts, knowing that this was just some lame escape plan from the conversation. Oh well. There's still plenty of time before she needs to drop some wedding and love talks anyway.

She opens her drawer and takes out the apple lollipop she'd been saving for herself, undoing the wrapping. When she puts it into her mouth, Sakura tastes apples but remembers a memory of a plate of apples being smacked out of her hands in a hospital room. Swerving her chair around, she stares out the window of her office and stifles a nostalgic laugh.

Hopefully, Sarada's future husband is the type who won't smack plates of apples to the floor.