notes: final chapter! we did it, folks! (●'◡'●)
warning: KIZASHI'S BAD PUNS.
rating: K+
disclaimer: i don't own naruto.
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50. equilibrium
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"There we go, dearie," Obaa-san hums, happily stroking a brush through Sarada's hair. "I'm so glad you came over! You know I love your visits—I mean, how could I not? It's been a while since I've seen you, Sarada-chan! You ought to come over more."
Seated in front of her, hands primly set in her lap, Sarada chuckles awkwardly. "O-Oh, uh—I'm not sure, Obaa-san… I've been pretty busy lately. Missions and training and all…"
It's not that Sarada dislikes her grandmother; no, she loves her very much. They share the same blood, and Mebuki's genes are also in her DNA, and sometimes Mebuki babysat for her if Mama felt overwhelmed enough to barge into Obaa-san's retired life and plead for some help to watch over baby Sarada just until her shift ends—and that's all fine. The problem seems to lie in Obaa-san's forwardness, but Sarada wouldn't really say it's a problem. Not a problem, but rather, just an inconvenience. A minor inconvenience.
Case in point: "Oh, don't be silly, Sarada-chan!" Obaa-san laughs, waving the comb into the air for a moment. "When your Okaa-san was your age, she'd always lounge around and have time to get lost in her daydreams, and she'd still have time for missions! I bet it's a shinobi thing, isn't it?" Nodding like it's all coming together, her grandmother adds, "I thought it would've been like that for you too. Did they change things around?"
Sometimes, it's easy to tell that Obaa-san is a normal, civilian woman living in a village full of shinobi. Sarada is about to say something—
The front door closes. "I'm home! Where are ya, honey?"
Losing her train of thought, Sarada closes her mouth.
"In the guest room with Sarada-chan!" Obaa-san answers, voice loud as she bellows. She has a strong voice. Sarada recollects herself from the brief fright.
There are footsteps and Ojii-san pokes his head through the doorway. He looks at Sarada for a moment, then grins. He cheekily lifts up a grocery bag and takes out some packaged fish. "I knew something seemed fishy when I noticed another pair of shoes! So it was Sarada-chan, ha!"
Sarada wants to so badly cover her face with her hands at the pun, at her grandfather, and just… at her situation.
She had woke up today wanting to spend her day off by hanging out with ChouChou to go visit a movie rental place to check out if there are any new movies they'd like to watch for a long-deprived, long-awaited girls night, but Mama walked into her room that same morning and smiled and blatantly told her that she's visiting Obaa-san instead. ("Because she misses you," Mama had said, laughing nervously as Sarada looked highly unamused. "She phoned me last week about it, so I promised her that you'd visit the following week. Do it for her, okay?") Sakura literally told her last minute, so ChouChou was understanding and let Sarada off the hook after making Sarada promise to buy lunch and four packs of the newest flavor of chips next time they hang out. Her wallet would cry, but hey, a financial sacrifice is better than an angry ChouChou anyday.
Obaa-san rolls her eyes and points the comb at her husband. "That was awful. I thought I told you to stop. Your puns scare away people!"
"No they don't!" Ojii-san pouts dramatically, sagging his eyebrows and shoulders. "Sakura-chan loves my puns!"
"Ha!" Sarada watches her grandmother turn her head away, huffing. "She pretended she didn't know who you were back when you still took her to Parents Day. And all because of what? Yes, your puns! In fact, some of the children's fathers asked me if you offered lessons," Obaa-san spats out the final word like it's venom.
"Ooh, maybe I should!"
"No!"
Oh? Mama never actually told her any of this before. Sarada is stuck between loyalty to her Mama and Ojii-san. Good conscience wins over, and she chooses Mama. "U-Um… Obaa-san, are you finished with my hair?"
Blinking, her grandmother looks down, as if she just remembered why Sarada is here, seated on a chair and facing a mirror. "Oh, yes! You have the loveliest hair, Sarada-chan. I can run my brush through it all day. I hope you keep using the same conditioner with it." Grabbing a red bow, she fixes it into Sarada's hair gently.
Blushing slightly, Sarada touches the tips of her hair and readjusts her glasses.
"Yeah, I'm glad nothing hairy happened. Otherwise, you'd be a real sight for sore eyes, Sarada-chan," Ojii-san casually says, looking between her glasses and grandmother with a smug smile.
"Ten seconds before I throw this at you," Obaa-san warns, voice scarily calm. She brandishes her comb like it's a boomerang.
With a horrified yelp, Sarada's valiant grandfather shoves the packaged fish back into the bag before he retreats elsewhere in the house so fast that Sarada just sees a blur even with glasses on. Poor Ojii-san. She has to wonder how Ojii-san's love of terrible puns managed to ever be compatible with Obaa-san's maternal, strict self. But then again, this is like the case with her own parents: Papa's disastrous, nonexistent social skills and Mama's optimistic, sunny disposition. How did they work out? Was it some married-couples-only secret?
Yes, it's probably it, she thinks to herself.
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The doorbell rings.
Sarada puts down the bowl of strawberries she was helping Obaa-san rinse, but it is Ojii-san who goes to open the door since he sits closest to it. "Ah! Sasuke, my boy!" her grandfather enthuses, sounding hearty and welcoming. "Come in! Did my daughter send you?"
"Otou-san." Politely, Papa bows to Ojii-san, lifting up his sole hand to present a plastic bag. "She didn't, but she wanted to bring you these cherries. She suspected Okaa-san to bring out strawberries for Sarada, and thought to bring cherries. She couldn't make it, so I volunteered to come."
Shocked, Sarada widens her eyes and looks up, and yes, this is indeed her Papa she is looking at. Her Papa playing delivery boy with cherries. Perhaps this is something she could tell ChouChou during girls night, or with Boruto as small talk.
Ojii-san makes an 'O' with his mouth, taking the bag of cherries to haul into the kitchen where Sarada and Obaa-san are. He licks his lips at the sight inside the bag, bringing them to his wife. The two engage in murmurings over Mama's thoughtful cherries. Sarada hears things like Ooh, these look so fresh! That's my Sakura-chan! or We'll split these for four people, not just your one bulging stomach.
At the door, Sasuke removes his cloak and shoes. He adjusts the collar of his vest, then greets Sarada with a quiet nod.
She peeks at her grandparents, notices their occupied attention, then tiptoes away to talk with her Papa. "Did you really only come to delivery cherries?" she asks him, wiping her hands with a towel.
"I came to pick you up." Papa looks like he's thinking about something. "And your mother wanted to check up on you, but couldn't come herself."
"So you're like the messenger bird?" Sarada concludes, stifling a laugh because when did her Papa get so wrapped around Mama's pinky so easily? It must be a married-couples-only thing. Yes, it has to be.
He looks vaguely amused. "I suppose so."
"Since you said you're here to pick me up… Are we going now?" She looks hopefully at him.
It's not that it's suffocating to be with her grandparents, but she's been here for five hours and counting—and she's not sure how many more bad puns and bonding activities she could take. She loves Ojii-san and Obaa-san very, very much. But god, there is so much young girls like her can go through in a day. (She wonders what it's like if it were the Ojii-san and Obaa-san from Papa's side of the family. What sorts of people were they? With how her Papa is like, Sarada can only guess they had some semblance of order and calmness, and might have trouble comprehending what a joke is.)
Papa opens his mouth—
"Sasuke-kun!" Obaa-san fondly greets with love, arms wide and approaching him. She envelops him in an embrace, and Papa welcomes it with a kind smile. They seem to be on cordial terms, but Sarada could barely comprehend the idea of her Papa being on friendly terms with anyone who is not Mama or Nanadaime. Well… Maybe it's not so strange. They are in-laws, after all. "You just got here, so you should stay for a little longer. The day's still young, the sun is shining, we have strawberries, and now we have cherries to boot!"
"Ah," Papa says, unwilling to weasel out. "I am off duty today."
Obaa-san clasps her hands, giddy. "Wonderful!"
Ojii-san lazily leans on the kitchen counter with a strawberry in between his fingers and guffaws, "It's berry wonderful!" Obaa-san promptly scowls at him, embarrassed.
Sasuke exhibits his excellent, splendid fathering skills by giving Sarada a look that seems to say: We're stuck.
Sarada sinks her shoulders and thinks in consolation that she didn't get to eat yet.
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Papa puts his cloak back on. "Sarada, make sure you don't forget anything."
As he slips on his shoes, Sarada thinks carefully. "Oh, I didn't bring much, so I'm fine. But I think I'll go say bye to Obaa-san and Ojii-san first and then we can leave, okay, Papa?"
He nods, waiting for her at the door faithfully. Venturing back into the house, Sarada walks down a hallway she remembers that held the guest room.
"Could you believe it? She grew up that much. She was barely at my knees when I last saw her. I feel so old…"
"There, there," comforts Ojii-san, sounding soft. "It's the way of life, y'know? Our Sakura-chan is married and settled down; has a family, has a husband, has a cute daughter, has an important job—she's making it big out there, and y'know what? Good for her. It's a sign our parenting was done right."
Obaa-san sighs, but it sounds wistful. "And soon, our time will be up. I'm actually a little scared."
Ojii-san gives a low laugh, carefree. "Don't be! Kids these days always talk about going with the flow. So, water you doing by moping around, hm?"
"You and your stupid puns," Obaa-san fondly reprimands. "They're so stupid."
"I know."
"I can't imagine how you come up with those."
"Hey now, don't rain on my parade!"
"They're cheesy."
"I know."
Obaa-san suddenly says, "They make me feel better."
"I know," Ojii-san replies with fondness. "That's why I do it."
"You're impossible," Obaa-san softens her voice.
"Yet you married me, hm?" he happily retorts, humming playfully.
Suddenly, Sarada feels as though she is starting to understand the whole married-couples-only thing a bit more. It matters not if it seems strange to others, because the relationship itself is something much more meaningful to the involved parties. It's nothing like in movies. The first impression of incompatibility is actually why they are compatible. Ojii-san's terrible puns make Obaa-san secretly happy, and Obaa-san can worry too much but Ojii-san grounds her steadily. A match, she'd say.
She steps into view, stopping at the threshold and politely knocking on the open door. Sarada sees them sitting together on the bed, Obaa-san's head on Ojii-san's shoulder. "Obaa-san, Ojii-san," she greets courteously, smiling and pretending she heard nothing. "I just wanted to say bye before I go."
Obaa-san's eyes glimmer in hope. "Will you come back for another visit?"
She softens. "I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try to find time. Today was fun, Obaa-san. Thank you for the lunch and strawberries. I'll let Mama know you liked the cherries."
"Of course, sweetie," Obaa-san cooes lovingly. Then she pauses. "You can keep the ribbon, by the way. It was your mother's, back when she was a young girl—younger than you, in fact. I think she'd want you to have it. She accidentally left it here when she moved out."
Ojii-san pats her shoulder quietly at the mention of Mama moving out. Sarada supposes she too would one day have to move out, but that's a distant-future type of worry for now. "I'll take good care of it," she vows, walking out to give them privacy.
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When she and Papa come home, they both find Mama sprawled flat on her back on the couch, looking disheveled and tired and on the verge of death. Luckily, it's common to find her like this. On days where she looks like this, it usually indicates today was busy at the hospital.
Mama wearily looks up at the sound of the door. "How was Obaa-san and Ojii-san?" she croaks.
Removing her shoes, Sarada walks in and sits at the armrest, near Mama's feet. "Five hours of bad puns and bonding activities," she reports, gravely. "Papa came in during the fifth hour, so he endured two more with me."
Walking by, Sasuke sits himself on a chair at the dining table. He would be drinking tea around this time, but Obaa-san took care of that by feeding him her own blend. "It wasn't that bad," he says, trying not to speak ill of his in-laws.
Sarada rolls her eyes. Yeah right. Okay. "That's because you didn't experience the first five hours, Papa."
"Ah," he lamely replies, cornered.
"Sorry, Sarada," Sakura apologizes, scrunching her face. "It would seem that the help I sent was of no help at all."
She gives Mama a strange look. "Papa told Ojii-san that you didn't send him, but you sent cherries instead."
"It's true," nods Mama, tiredly adjusting the pillow behind her head. "I really did want to send the cherries because your Obaa-san likes to eat both, but I had a meeting I couldn't skip. I grew up with those puns, so I know the level they can sink to—hence why I kindly asked Papa to come and spare you of it. But instead, I find out you both got suckered into it."
Papa says, "They wanted company." He pauses. "It was hard to refuse."
Despite her lack of energy, Mama still waves a hand in the air dismissively. "Oh, Sasuke-kun. You know it's okay to say no, even if they are my parents. You shouldn't spoil them so much, or they'll demand more." She looks thoughtful. "Actually, just my mother. Otou-san jumps on whatever she does. She runs the house with an iron fist and steel skillet."
Sarada thinks the case is also true for them: Papa is at Mama's whims all the time. They seem to make it work, just like how Obaa-san and Ojii-san do. It's starting to piece together now: Mama's charisma and cheeriness makes up for Papa's awkwardness, and Papa's silent and level-headed mannerisms help ground Mama's tendency to be outspoken and brash. A match.
Fondly, she watches her parents banter.
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The next time she visits her grandparents, three months pass. This visit was not by choice.
It started with Sarada on her way home from the market, errand shopping for Papa who wanted to stay home and do housework chores Mama couldn't finish before she left for work. Then all of a sudden, she was ambushed by Mebuki, who spotted her during her mission of finding a new teapot to buy. (She said Ojii-san accidentally broke the old one when he attempted a poor attempt at juggling for a fleeting hobby.) Obaa-san had insisted that her granddaughter should stay for dinner, dragging her all the way back to the Haruno residence with force uncommon in un-shinobi elderlies.
Sarada never got home. Mama's at work, so Papa must be wondering what happened by now. Alas, she doesn't think being kidnapped and held hostage by Obaa-san would ever make it into the possibilities for Papa's list of dangers.
She stares at the cup of tea offered to her, looking at the ripples before taking a sip. "It tastes different," she remarks offhandedly.
Obaa-san looks up from her dinner prepping, midway peeling cabbages. "Oh, it's just chamomile tea! Your Okaa-san recommended it to me. She says it's good for your skin." She laughs. "One taste already had me switching from green tea! I'm quite fickle, aren't I?"
No, Sarada answers mentally. Being married to Ojii-san for all these decades is not a sign of being fickle. "It's a great blend," she agrees. "If I was a tea enthusiast like you, Obaa-san, I'd switch too."
"How tea-lightful!" cracks Ojii-san, who had come into the room looking half-asleep midway the conversation. "Oh ho, Sarada-chan is over again? Less than eight months this time—ya must love us a lot!" he teases affectionately, sitting on one of the arm chairs and fixing his hair. He swipes a biscuit from a plate Obaa-san had set for her.
Sarada rolls her eyes. "Ojii-san, please." She mutters, "I'd like to keep my appetite."
"What's that?"
Taking another sip of tea, she smiles angelically and briefly wonders what Papa will eat for lunch if the groceries are also captive with her. "Nothing!"
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The front door slams open.
"Alright, where is she?! ChouChou-chan said she never saw her today, and—"
Sarada puts down her chopsticks at the sight of Mama storming in, Papa trailing behind as if he failed to placate her.
Mama blinks at her. Sarada blinks back, feeling involuntarily caught. Papa sighs unnoticeably while Ojii-san still has his mouth open, his chopsticks halfway in with fried rice.
Obaa-san casually greets, "Sakura-chan, it's dinnertime."
Mama looks half-miffed and half-stunned. "Okaa-san! I knew it! You swiped my daughter and didn't think to tell me? You're lucky I remembered your tendency to dote on her, or else I would be in Naruto's office right now—"
"I left you a voicemail two days ago asking for you and your family to come over for dinner!" Obaa-san argues, also looking miffed. She clenches her chopsticks tightly.
In this instance, Sarada unfortunately learns that Mama and Obaa-san have the same short fuses. She sends Papa a look, but he appears resigned. Ojii-san starts looking apprehensive, timidly eating his cooked fish. Sarada is not one of the men, but she is also quiet and resigned and picking at her food among the tension.
"I-I didn't check it," Mama stutters for a moment, widening her eyes. "I was working late, but you know what my shifts are like."
Obaa-san looks analytical, studying Mama for a couple of seconds. Then she simply sighs, annoyed. "Sit down and eat. I didn't raise my daughter to ignore dinnertime with her family." She looks much nicer as she addresses Papa: "Sasuke-kun, you too. Pull up a chair and dine with us! We've already started."
This is the first time Sarada's ever seen Mama look like that, like she's been stung and she forgot for a moment that she's a doctor.
Mama huffs, roughly pulls out a chair across Sarada, and sits down rigidly. Papa quietly follows suit, but is much more mindful and gentle with the chair.
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After the awkward dinner, Obaa-san casually stands from her chair and starts gathering empty dishes. Then she looks at Sakura and demands, "Come. We're washing dishes."
Mama looks moody as she also begins to take the remaining empty plates. When she leaves to follow Obaa-san, Sarada exhales deeply, feeling relieved and suffocated. She isn't sure which feeling was greater, but Papa and Ojii-san look at her with silent sympathy all the same.
"Sorry, Sarada-chan," Ojii-san apologizes, probably on Obaa-san's behalf. His smile looks sheepish. "I bet it's your first time seeing them like that, huh?"
"Do they—" Sarada struggles to find her words, knowing that misunderstandings are more probable if she isn't careful. "—act like that often…?"
Papa and Ojii-san exchange knowing looks. The vagueness makes Sarada wonder if they're a dysfunctional family. During dinner, Sakura often chewed while looking like Papa on a bad day, like she had some things to say but couldn't. Obaa-san didn't seem too affected, appearing poised and eating with grace. Was their relationship strained somehow? Out of Papa and Mama, it's hard to believe Mama is the one with a strained familial relationship.
"They get along fine," Ojii-san answers, "but there are times where they fight. When your Okaa-san was younger, she used to fight over many things with your Obaa-san. Sometimes they were so alike, they clashed. In fact, one of the things they fought most over was…" Considerately, he looks at Papa. Across the table, Sasuke looks down.
She frowns, uncertain. "Obaa-san didn't like Papa?" Seeing how well those two got along three months ago, it seems so surreal.
"She was most against the marriage," Ojii-san admits, smiling sadly. "Sakura-chan took a while to convince her to soften up to your Papa, and now she dotes on him like no other. Your Mama is a fighter for what she believes in, and proud of it. She definitely didn't get that from me," he laughs fondly, stroking his chin.
"Ah…" Sarada peeks at Mama and Obaa-san across the room, who seem immersed in their own conversation. They look like they're arguing again, but much more tamer. Bantering. Now that she has some context, it can't be anything but bantering. Nothing can wedge in between those two. Family bonds are thick, she's learned. Obaa-san loves their family, and it was kind of her to extend dinner to the three of them, even if she has questionable ways of going about it.
Sarada remembers Boruto complaining about his embarrassing Ojii-san and his smothering hugs, and then he goes on to talk smack (affectionately) about his weird aunt who promptly beats his ass up for it. ChouChou whines how her Papa isn't a 'hot stud' while singing praises about her Mama who buys her what she wants. Inojin mentions his parents being too lovey-dovey, and Shikadai groans whenever he mentions his parents fighting. The moral, Sarada thinks, is that every family is dysfunctional.
Obaa-san and Mama finally finish washing the dishes, returning back. Obaa-san places a plate of neatly-split tangerines at the center of the table. Both women sit, Obaa-san next to Ojii-san and Mama next to Papa. Sarada sits at the side, facing all of them like some referee at a sports match.
Ojii-san, ever the moodmaker, takes a piece and cracks a goofy grin. "Oh, orange you two so sweet to get us dessert!"
Everyone looks exasperated as they grab their own slices. Ojii-san promptly pouts, dejected.
Her eyes flickering to each person, Sarada bites and tastes the sweetness. She chews, sees Obaa-san chiding Mama about the juices dripping on the table, Papa quietly wiping it away with a napkin, Ojii-san artfully arranging his tangerine seeds on his own napkin, then thinks with certainty, Yeah, we're definitely dysfunctional.
And as dysfunctional they may be, this is still her family.
This is her beloved, dysfunctional family.
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fin
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afterword: AND THAT'S A WRAP! my god, 8 years. 8 years. i have no excuse. i basically grew up and life happened. i started this fic waaay back in middle school, and i have now finally finished it in 2022 after graduating college. i thought many, many times to drop this story since i have migrated fandoms long ago and i am no longer active in the naruto fandom, but i know how it feels to leave a fic unfinished. i wanted to be able to mark this fic as 'completed' someday, so i persevered (very wearily). a part of me always felt like i couldn't do the characters justice or some chapters seemed redundant/boring, so i felt stuck. the original version of this fic, if you didn't know, was full of crack and blatant OOC-ness that i just could not stop cringing at, so i revamped everything in 2018 to match with my matured writing style. even then, i don't think i'm truly satisfied with this story because of my ups and downs. with that said, this is my final sasusaku fic; i will be retiring from writing naruto after this story. sasusaku is still very dear to me and i still follow it privately, but in terms of creating content, it's time for me to move on.
so, thank you for sticking with me all these years, and thank you for all the support you all gave to this story! special thanks to the people who were kind enough to leave me reviews through this 8 year span; they seriously kept me going to the very end.
