Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Day Two
He wakes up early in the morning.
Kaito is spread out next to him on his bed and for a moment, he lets the tears that are clawing at his throat and eyes to appear, slipping down his face silently.
Then, he wipes them away with a yawn, pretending he doesn't feel the ache as he watches his pink-haired son open pale, pale gray eyes, a frown marring his forehead.
The baby gurgles something and Sasuke smiles sadly.
Sakura would have cooed at him and set him on her shoulder, running calloused hands through pink locks.
He gets ready slowly. He still refuses the arm that Tsunade continuously offers him and usually, he had Sakura to help him get dressed. He gets stuck at the buttons on his shirt and he wants to scream—
("Let me help you, Sasuke-kun." Her eyes gleamed with mirth as he fumbled with the buttons on his dress-shirt, a scowl marring his face. "Come on…you don't want to go out all disheveled do you?")
His lungs burn with loss, fire spreading across his body, and he can feel her absence, the loss of her creamy skin and brilliant eyes.
Sasuke takes a deep breath once more. He shakes his head, trying and failing to get rid of the lump that sticks in his throat.
"Day two." He whispers to himself, turning to watch his son fisting his tiny fingers in the red sheets Sakura loved so dearly. "We'll be okay. We'll be okay Kaito."
He pretends the words don't burn his tongue as he takes off the button-up shirt Sakura loved to help him back into the closet and takes out his training clothes.
He doesn't want anyone else helping him.
Sarada wakes with a headache.
The room spins as she groans and drags herself out of bed.
Thick, shoulder-length black hair brushes her cheeks and she fumbles for the light-gray glasses her mother bought for her last year.
Her fingers still as they touch the frames, cool from not being worn.
Her mother.
(Brilliant green eyes, warm hands, soft skin—Her mother, Sakura Uchiha née Haruno. Beloved wife and mother. She shall be missed.)
And then Sarada remembers.
How the casket, dark brown, lowered itself into the ground. How her Uncle Naruto's words, while beautiful, were inappropriate at the funeral of her mother.
(You do not, she had thought furiously, looking up at the third with blank eyes; confess your love for someone's dead mother at said mother's funeral. And certainly not in front of everyone, including your wife and the dead woman's husband.)
Tears creep up into her eyes and the sobs crawl over her tongue, wracking her frame and for the first time since her mother's death two days ago, Sarada allows herself to grieve.
The screams coming from Sarada's room startle him so much he nearly drops Kaito.
And, as his son's face twists with unhappiness, his little mouth wobbling, already beginning to cry, Sasuke briskly walks towards his seventeen-year-old's room.
Despite the aching in his chest, his two children have just lost their mother and he knows this pain better than most.
He must be strong for the both of them.
They stay inside the whole day.
Sarada screams until her throat is hoarse, until her eyes are bloodshot and Sasuke is sure her body will fall off the bed she's shaking so much.
Kaito, not sure what the fuss is, can only sob as well and Sasuke's head pounds with the force of his children's grief.
Finally, after the shaky gasps and soft clenches Sarada lifts her head and places her chin on his chest. She's still small enough—just like Sakura—to mold herself into his body and she does so, curling up safely against him, her fingers clutching his shirt.
"Papa." Sarada's voice is hoarse and those eyes, so similar in shape to Sakura's gleam with another round of tears, "Papa why did she have to die?"
The question resonates in his chest, the breath leaving his lungs and suddenly, even though he's promised his children he'd be strong, that they could look up to him and he'd be their pillar of strength, he has to look away.
Tears burn in his eyes as he focuses on the chair that Sakura would sit on, heavily pregnant, while he rubbed her feet.
("Ah, yes, right there Sasuke." She moaned, her head resting back against the whicker chair. Sasuke let a smirk fill his mouth and he rubbed harder in that same spot once more. "You're so good at this, darling." His smirk widened and he pressed a kiss against her ankle, enjoying her thrilled giggle. "Are you excited for the baby Sasuke?" She asked. His eyes softened. "Of course I am. He's ours.")
"I—"His voice is on the verge of cracking in his grief so Sasuke begins again. "I don't know."
Kaito gurgles something in his neck and before Sasuke can reposition him, Sarada reaches over and puts the four-day old baby in between them.
Sasuke watches his daughter play with the pink strands of his son's hair, how she soothes a thumb over a pouty lip and presses kisses to the crown of his head.
"He looks so much like her."
(Sakura's eyes twinkled with joy and Sasuke found himself leaning in to press another kiss against her smiling mouth. "Mmphf—Sasuke-kun!" She giggled, repositioning Sarada on her shoulder, "Be careful, you'll crush your mini-me." Sasuke rolled his eyes and pressed his lips to her temple, running a hand in soft pink locks. "You lie. He looks exactly like you.")
Sasuke cannot bring himself to shatter his daughter's hope as he watches her cradle her baby brother, closing her eyes against the tears.
Kaito gurgles happily, sticking out a curious tongue to taste his sister's cheek. His nose wrinkles in a way that Sasuke remembers doing himself, as if wondering why tears are running down them.
Sarada chuckles out a sobbing laugh and cradles him closer, her hands trembling in the pink peach fuzz that Sakura had proudly called hair.
Sasuke doesn't say anything because despite the fact that Kaito has Sakura's hair and pale, pale skin, the baby has the slope of his nose and the shape of his eyes.
"Yes." He lies through his teeth, "He does."
Enjoy! Tell me your thoughts!