Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Day Four
Sasuke wakes up with a scream and cold sweat running down his back, his fingers trembling.
("Sasuke-kun," Sakura smiled, her eyes dead and her skin pale, "Sasuke-kun why did you kill me?")
He moves quickly, barely turning his head to check on little Kaito and once satisfied that his precious child is still asleep, his long pink lashes fluttering across Sakura's pale, pale skin, he stands, shaking and makes his way towards the bathroom.
It is late in the night but early enough that the morning is on the cusp of spilling over the horizon, bathing the valley in warm, gentle sunlight. He was quiet as turned on the tap in their—Sakura's really, - bathroom and his breath sharpens as the cool, cool water touches his cheeks.
Bloodshot eyes, mismatched, stare back at him in the mirror and his mouth trembles as he takes in the empty space next to him.
("Move over, Sasuke-kun," She giggled past her toothbrush. Stretching her arms over her head, the pinstriped shirt lifting up over her stomach, displaying perfect pale skin marred by a single scar, "This is my spot, Sakura." She rolled her eyes and spat out her toothpaste. "I'm smaller than you, thus we can both fit. Now move over weirdo.")
His legs buckled beneath him and he clutched the sink as his forehead touched the cool porcelain of the washbasin. Sasuke bit his lip as tears blurred his vision and an aching, raw sob came from his lips, the pain in his chest increasing tenfold.
"Come home." He whispered past the lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes.
"Come home." He begged to the ghost of the only woman he had ever loved.
"Hey Sakura-chan." Kakashi's voice barely carries in the wind but he still sits down in front of the gravestone, a watery smile on his face as he takes a bite of her favorite steamed buns.
They're still warm and he grins a little, his eyes softening as he remembers her brilliant smile and excited eyes the first time she'd ever brought them to practice.
("They're Kanna-san's new recipe, sensei! Half the customers are ripping their hair out just to get a taste." She grinned, taking another bite from the one she held in her hand. "But of course," She smiled cheekily and Kakashi saw Naruto and Sasuke turn loving eyes towards the movement, "She likes me the most so I get them first!")
"Sasuke's not doing well without you," He whispers to the name on the gray stone, his fingers tracing the gold-filled letters Naruto had done.
That boy had never had a subtle bone in his body and Kakashi knew that if Sasuke had been any more coherent at the funeral then there probably would have been another Valley of The End incident at the sheer amount of love in the Hokage's words.
Kakashi sighs, looking up at the sky. "Watch over us, Sakura-chan. We still need your guidance, even now."
Fluffy clouds inched across the blue and Kakashi choked down the burning lump in his throat as the pain of losing her resurfaced.
Sarada wakes up with her grandfather's face above her, holding a frying pan and glaring at the boy whose lips are on her neck.
"Jiji!" Sarada scrambles to wipe away the crusted tears on her cheeks and in the process, shoves the lump of bones off her. He lands with a mighty thump and Sarada smirks at the glare he shoots her.
Her grandfather is unimpressed, his eyebrows raising, his lips twisting further into a frown.
"Sarada you know better than to sleep on the couch with random boys."
Ignoring Boruto's groan of "I've known you for seventeen years, Kizashi-san!" Sarada just sighed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
"I know Jiji. But it's okay. Boruto's family." Sarada told her grandfather softly, smiling a little when the harsh glare on his face eased a little, "Besides he wouldn't dare do anything to me anyways because Mama taught me how to castrate a man with one poke to his stomach."
It's silent for a moment before Sarada realizes this is the first time she's talked about her mother in the past.
In the past. In the past. In the past. In the past.
("Sarada-chan," Her mother panted, her skin looking pale, "Remember to take care of the little one okay?")
"Well!" Boruto nearly shouts, peeling himself off the ground, a jubilant smile taking over the somber mood, "What's for breakfast Jiji?"
(Mother huffed, the dark circles under eyes looking deadly in the fluorescent lights, "Something—"Mother choked, "Something's wrong, Sa-chan."
Her father gripping her mother's hands, fear hot and heavy blooming in his mismatched eyes. Sarada curled her hands into fists, her nails digging so deeply into her palms the tang of blood filled the hospital room. The useless doctor, as her father had christened him three contractions earlier, flitted nervously around the room, desperately trying to make her mother more comfortable, so she could give birth far more easily.
"Get me…" Sakura panted, another contraction making her groan, the bed underneath her shuddering under her grip, "Tsunade-shishou, get me shishou."
Sarada shot out of the room, ignoring the calls of the doctor who was on call, heading straight for Auntie's study.)
"Nothing for you." Grandfather grumbled, a sad smile playing on his lips when Boruto whined. The words brought her back to the present and Sarada takes a deep breath before tucking a lock of thick hair behind her ears, brushing away the flyaway hairs.
She pretends she doesn't see Boruto's eyes flash with worry in the corner of her eye.
"I'm going to check on Papa and the baby." Sarada stops for a moment before calling back, "If you drop my little brother, Boruto, I really will castrate you."
Boruto shouts something garbled and Sarada grins, pretending the bittersweet tears aren't blurring her vision as she makes her way to her father's bedroom. When she slides the door open she frowns when she only sees baby Kaito, tiny fists in his mouth, pink fluff sticking up everywhere.
"Hey baby," Sarada cooed when her little brother's eyes opened. Light, unseeing gray fixed on her and Sarada smiled softly, her hands roving over perfect plump cheeks and rosebud lips. "Are you ready to go find Papa?"
Kaito whined as if in agreement and Sarada slipped her arms around him, remembering how Mama taught her using the pillows with a gentle smile and mirth gleaming in green eyes. Kaito shifted in her arms and Sarada smiled again, despite the tears weighing her eyes, and pressed butterfly kisses on his soft, soft brow.
She held him close, making sure his head was supported and Kaito nuzzled her collarbone, dropping off to sleep once more, his tiny mouth slack, fingers tightening on her gray t-shirt.
Humming, Sarada made her way towards the bathroom—Papa always took a spectacular amount of time to pull himself together in the mornings—and stopped when she found the door ajar, the picture in front of her not looking anything like she'd ever seen before.
Her father's hands were bloody and the mirror was shattered, tiny shards of glass littering the bathroom floor. Papa's eyes were bloodshot, but the alarming blankness that filled his features made them look vivid against his sunken cheeks. His frame, so strong and tall, was slumped in the bathtub, his arms curling around his waist, his legs coming up, tucked to his chest, his hands gripping his biceps.
There was a crazed edge to his mouth and Sarada nearly dropped the baby when he lifted them towards her, his mouth tipping downwards in agony.
It was silent for a moment. Sarada could only watch, her mouth open and dry in fear, as Uchiha Sasuke, the man who not only defeated the snake Sannin, his insane clansman Madara but also Kaguya the rabbit goddess, seemed to drown in his madness.
Sarada wanted to say something, anything, that would bring him out of his grief but she knew, somehow, that this was not something she could soothe away with promises and tearful embraces. The darkness that lined her father's eyes, the utter heartbreak that tinged the angles of his face, was something only her mother could ever hope to touch, could only ever hope to dissipate.
But mother was dead and there was only Sarada and little Kaito to do away the damage that filled her father's face.
"Papa?" Her shaking voice broke the stillness of the room and Kaito shifted in her arms with a low whine.
Her father blinked. Sarada gave him a moment to pull himself together, watching as the familiar blankness slotted itself into his eyes, the drawn mouth softening into a stoic expression, his body creaking with the effort to stand.
"Give him to me." Her father told her in a firm voice, his eyes trailing over the pinkness of his son's hair and the paleness of his skin.
Sarada already knew what he was seeing—her mother's coloring was firmly engrained in the baby and she would forever know that her father would always take comfort in Kaito's pink hair and freckled pale skin, would always feel closer to Mama when looking at him.
She couldn't blame him either—she was doing the exact same.
Sarada placed Kaito in her father's arms, helping him hold the baby upright, her anxiety at losing another loved one making her too cautious to leave anyone in this house completely alone.
"How did you sleep?" Her father asked her, rocking Kaito who began to fuss at the shift. Sarada watched her father press his lips to the crown of Kaito's head, his fingers already petting the downy pink fuzz her mother had grinned at.
"Boruto came over. Jiji's making pancakes I think. I slept—"
"In Boruto's arms." For a moment, the familiar teasing in her father's eyes returned, but when Kaito made a purring noise at the way his father stroked his hair, the grief returned and baby Kaito was once again the center of attention.
"Yeah." Sarada smiled a little absently, moving closer to stroke her little brother's chubby nose. "But Jiji threatened him so it's okay."
"Hm." Her father agreed, his eyes softening as Kaito yawned, a strange grimace coming over Kaito's face in lieu of a smile.
Sarada and Sasuke watched entranced by the child in Sasuke's arms and the memory of a woman who smiled just as brightly.
Hinata closed the door behind her as she entered Ino's home.
"Hinata-san." Sai seemed to nearly faint in relief and she gave him a trembling smile as he rushed—well, Sai never rushed, more like walked quickly—over to her, his hands gripping a bowl of steaming porridge.
"Hello Sai-kun," Hinata said softly, not wanting to aggravate the worry that was clearly eating away at him.
The ex-root fluttered about, his throat working, and Hinata knew he was trying to work up the courage to say something to her. She merely waited, knowing that anxious feeling extensively because of her youth.
"Ino-chan's not eating anymore." Sai said, his eyebrows drawing together a little, "All she does is stare at the wall. Sometimes she cries. I have read thirty books on grief, Hinata-san and I still—I still do not know what to do. It's like I'm not even there."
Hinata nodded, deep, stinging grief filling her up her chest, clogging her throat for a moment. The funeral was only four days ago and paired with the fact that she no longer had a best friend anymore, that her husband had basically offered his undying love to said dead best friend, she had an idea of what Sai was going through.
She didn't even want to imagine what Sasuke-san was going through—she had seen those horrifyingly blank eyes at the funeral, the tightness of his jaw as the casket was lowered into the ground and the way he clutched Sakura's newborn in his arms, desperately trying to catch a shadow of the woman in the pink-haired baby.
If he were younger, Hinata would have been afraid that Sasuke would have gone on a rampage, destroying everything in sight, ready to slaughter anyone who even twitched the wrong way in front of him. Now, only fear for the man her best friend loved filled her—she did not want the man who had come to love Sakura with everything he had to disappear under the grief of losing his wife.
"It's okay Sai-kun." Hinata smiled, moving to take the porridge from his hands and placing it on the wooden dining table. She took one look at his disheveled form, taking in his messy hair, bloodshot eyes and tight mouth and grabbed his shoulders tightly.
"Sakura and Ino were sisters in everything but blood." She told him, trying to get him to understand the immense grief that Ino was going through, "Losing Sakura to something as…" She hated to say it but the word tumbled from her mouth uninhibited, "mundane, as childbirth is a crushing blow. You have to give her some time. Make sure she is comfortable; make sure you are there for her. If she cries then she needs to cry, nothing wrong about it. Just be there for her, Sai-kun. She will lean on you eventually."
Sai's eyes narrowed a little in worry. "But what if she hurts herself? Ino and Ugly—Sakura-chan—were so close that Ino often told me they would have been twins were they born from the same mother. They have not gone apart since they were five years old. What if—"
"Sai-kun." Hinata gripped his shoulders a little tighter, moving them towards the couch so the ninja could sit a little more comfortably. "Be there for her. If it gets worse, well, that's what friends are for."
Sai seemed to be taking this in, Hinata watched as his shoulders tensed a little less, the stress at his mouth, and eyes lightening a little, the worry and grief that nagged him receding in the hopes of Ino's recovery.
But then his eyes—so dark and imposing—swung back to her and Hinata looked away from the suspicious glance.
"What dickless said, at the funeral. Are you upset?"
And there was the blunt questioning that had Hinata wincing, her hands drifting away from his shoulders and curling around her stomach.
"I…" She trailed off.
("She will always be in my heart, in all of our hearts, as the warmest, kindest woman I've ever known. Sakura will forever be loved and today, though the day was far too soon, we commemorate her memory." Hinata was close enough to hear his next words, whispered through gritted teeth, "I will always love you.")
("Naruto and me?" Sakura-chan raised an eyebrow before throwing back her head and laughing. "Oh no, Hinata-chan. I've only ever loved Sasuke, you know that." Her best friend smiled at her, stroking her hair before crushing her in a tight hug. "Besides, all he sees is you, Hina-chan.")
Sai waited.
"I've always known…that Naruto held…some sort of affection for Sakura-chan." She swallowed past the angry tears and tried to smile—there was no point, no use in being jealous of a dead woman. A dead woman who was her best friend. "And Sakura never loved him like that. She's only ever had eyes for Sasuke-kun. But…that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I thought that maybe…maybe even after all these years he would let that love for her go…"
Hinata blinked away the tears that filled her eyes and sniffed. "Oh but, you have to be getting to Ino-chan. Take a shower, make something other than porridge—chicken soup if you can. I'll go to Ino, okay?"
Before Sai had a chance to say anything else, Hinata was already up in a flurry of movements, crossing the living room to their bedroom, her back ramrod straight, a steady smile filling her face.
Sai only watched, wishing that for once, Naruto's words wouldn't have created more strife and grief on top of losing the woman they had all held dear.
A tiny voice in his head whispered to him that once Sasuke woke up from the emotional strife he was in, there would be bloodshed when he realized just what, exactly, Naruto had said at his wife's funeral.
Ino stared at the ceiling as she heard the door to her bedroom creak open.
She expected to hear Sai's barely-there footsteps, but instead there were heavier footfalls filling up the emptiness of the room. If she were bothered, a frown would have filled her face, but the only thing she managed to do was twitch her fingers.
"Ino-chan?"
She didn't move.
She didn't hear what she wanted to—didn't hear her sister's lilting voice grinning around the words "Ino-pig,"
"Hey Ino-chan." The voice said once more. In the back of her mind, she knew it was Hinata who was saying them, but she didn't say anything.
She felt so fragile, so close to death lying on the bed. All she wanted was to feel Sakura's weight next to her, all she wanted was for her sister to rise out of that grave, to stumble out of that hospital room, a smile on her face and brilliance in her eyes as she assured everyone she was okay.
"Sai's cleaning himself up. He's going to make soup." Ino felt the bed dip under a new weight and she closed her eyes. "I asked to make chicken soup. I know…I know Sakura-chan used to make it for you when you were sick."
Tears burned behind her eyelids.
("Really, pig?" Sakura rolled her eyes as she stirred the soup into a thick broth, "All this for a boy? After you got a cold from sitting under the stars, did he stick around to clean up your snot? Oh no wait—that's me." Ino made a face, flipping a finger at her best friend before Sakura flipped it back. It took another minute before they both burst into giggles and the soup nearly burned.)
"I miss her." Hinata whispered, putting her arms around Ino. "She would have been grumbling about getting back to the hospital by now. Sasuke would have dragged her back home too. You remember that time, in the first trimester, when she tried to get back to work and he hauled her over his shoulder and brought her home?"
Ino wanted to nod, wanted to sob out her fears and grief and loss, but she could only stay still in Hinata's embrace, eyes closed, hoping the other girl would keep talking.
"They were so in love. And she shone when he looked at her." Hinata breathed out another sigh and her hands came to her hair, dragging calloused fingertips through her long blonde locks. "I miss her so much, Ino-chan. How…how can we do this without her? Without her smile, her laugh, her comfort, her temper?"
Tears ran down her cheeks and a sob escaped her, the first sound she made in four days. It was the bursting of a dam and Ino cried, sobs wracking her body, as she crawled closer to Hinata, her hands trembling on the other girl's spine as she felt the Uzumaki's own tears wet her hair.
"I want her back." Ino cried between raw, aching sobs, the skin on her face feeling brittle and stretched, like a doll that was being pieced back together with glass shards. "I need her back."
"I know," Hinata sobbed, "I know."
Tsunade pretended, as she glided through the hospital her face drawn and mouth tucked into a frown, that everything would be all right.
She had spent the last two days drunk off her rocker, even the complacent Shizune joining her with bloodshot eyes and a teary smile. It was only this morning, after wiping away the tears and the snot and brushing her disgusting teeth did she try to pull herself back together.
But as she clutched the papers to her chest, she knew that it would never truly be alright. Sakura was the type of person that filled a room with her presence. She was the type of woman that would shine, her smile putting most at ease, her voice gentle and soft, despite the random bouts of aggressive temper. People would recover from her absence in their lives, but she knew that some (Sasuke Uchiha, Sarada-chan, Naruto, Hinata, Ino, Tenten, Lee, Kiba, Shino—and a magnitude of others) would never really be the same again.
"Oh, Sakura." Tsunade whispered to herself as she made the trek towards her dead daughter's house. "What did you do? Why didn't you listen to me?"
It was noon when Sasuke's world shifted on his axis.
It was noon when a tight-faced Tsunade rang the doorbell, clutching hospital papers to her chest, electric worry filling her eyes.
It was noon when Kizashi dropped the baby bottle he was holding, shock filling his features, noon when Boruto paled, his hands trembling as he watched the family begin to break, noon when Sarada's tears would turn loud again, echoing sobs filling the house.
"Tsunade-san." Sasuke said, barely looking up from the baby in his arms as he opened the door. "Do you need to check on my son?"
Sakura's teacher took off her shoes and nodded. "Yes. Just some small things, just to make sure. The birth was traumatic enough that we're a little worried."
Sasuke's head shot up. "Traumatic enough?"
Tsunade winced and reached into the satchel at her side to pull out the stethoscope and other tools. Sasuke gestured towards the table and the older woman nodded gratefully, moving to place the papers clutched on the wooden surface, her bag and medical tools next to them.
Taking the baby from his arms—Sasuke resisting the urge to snatch his son back, to keep him in the circle of his arms, safe and sound—she grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and lay the baby back onto it, the stethoscope already pressed up against his chest.
The tests went in silence, Sasuke's heartbeat jumping in his chest every time Tsunade frowned. Sarada, Boruto and Kizashi were in the garden, trying to even out a place for a sandbox for when Kaito was a little older. Sasuke had made the suggestion and Kizashi, trying to distract everyone from their grief, agreed, calling over both teenagers to make a couple of runs to his construction friends for extra sand and building supplies.
Kaito whined a little, his little mouth puckering into a frown when Tsunade's touch left his skin.
"You're going to need to keep him close. The fact that Sakura couldn't hold him after his birth and that it was such a traumatizing event means that you're going to have to comfort him far more than you did Sarada." Tsunade began to pack her things but when she wouldn't look him directly in the eyes, Sasuke knew there was something she wasn't telling him.
"Aa." He offered, already reaching to pick up his son and tuck him under his chin. Where he was safe, a voice spoke up in his mind.
"Sasuke…" Tsunade's voice trailed off a little and he tried to calm the nerves that were screaming at him.
What if little Kaito wasn't safe? What if Kaito was going to die like Sakura? What if he was going to have to fill a grave for his son next to his wife's? What if the bundle of pink and pale, freckled skin was going to stop breathing and the raspy little breaths of life that filled him with some sort of happiness was going to take away the only good thing that came from that birth?
"There something I think you should know."
It was the crashing that alerted Sarada to something utterly wrong. One moment the house was still and quiet, the picture of serenity, and the next there was a sickening thump and crash that had Sarada's heart jumping in her chest.
"What the hell?" Boruto shouted when something slammed, the backdoor shuddering with the force of the collision.
Sarada just darted back inside, her stance already dropping into a taijutsu form, her fists clutching the kunai in her pouch. Adrenaline filled her with reckless rage, despite the lick of fear that traveled up her spine.
She would not let them take Kaito.
When she turned the corner however, the images that were flashing in her eyes of thieves, pilferers and bandits holding cutthroat blades to Kaito's frail neck evaporated, washed away with a fear that shook her so badly her knees nearly buckled underneath her weight.
Papa was on the floor, his hands clutching sheets of paper so tightly Sarada thought they would rip.
Auntie Tsunade was holding baby Kaito, desperately trying to calm the screaming child. Sarada's eyes traveled over the broken table and the mangled chair that was splintered all over the dining room floor.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke." Tsunade told him quietly, tears already swamping her own eyes. "I…I told her not to—"
"Leave."
Sarada tried to wet her dried lips at the rage in her father's voice, the deep, burning anger in his face, but she couldn't. This angry man, this burning rage in his voice, the fury that made his face too harsh, too bitter, was not her father. This wasn't the man her mother had fallen in love with.
"Sasuke there are procedures—"
"Get out!" Her father bellowed and Sarada wanted to take a step back. "You've done enough."
Her Aunt seemed to deflate before a polite expression hardened the cracks showing on an old face. Tsunade stepped forward to place Kaito back into Sasuke's arms and Sarada swore she saw something like regret line her brow.
"You have to know that it was her choice. There was nothing you could have done to persuade her. I tried, for months. I know you hate me for this, but trust me when I say that I begged her not to do this." Her Auntie said with one last effort, before slinging the satchel over her shoulder. "I'll be over next week to check on Kaito."
Her father said nothing, merely holding Kaito closer, his eyes spinning in the formation of the sharingan, the lock of hair that covered the ringed eye blown away, ready for anyone to attack.
It was only when her Aunt stepped outside their house did Sarada dare to ask.
"Papa, what's wrong?"
There's something you should know.
Something you should know.
You should know.
The words echoed in his mind from the moment Tsunade had placed the hospital files in his hands, a sorrowful expression lining her ageing face.
'Patient Uchiha Sakura seemed breathless this morning; the medicine she has been taking is not working as well as it should. She reports signs of extreme fatigue, loss of weight and signs of organ failure. Patient is well aware of the risks, yet continues to refuse the advised abortion that is the standard procedure for these types of pregnancies.'
His breath had caught in his lungs, his heart bursting in his chest and for the first time since her death, he felt unimaginable rage.
Tsunade had told him in slow words and baited breaths, that it had been her choice, her choice to take the risk of giving birth.
It had been Sakura's choice to hope that her body would hold out.
'The Patient reports pain in her head, her lungs and legs to the point of being excruciating. Chakra-induced massages are now being administered in hopes that the strain the pregnancy is having on her will lessen, but it is, unfortunately, unlikely. The byakugo seal is beginning to take its toll on the Patient's body, disrupting her chakra, taking too much effort from her heart—it is unlikely that Uchiha Sakura will survive this pregnancy as the seal is starting to break down the crucial organs—her kidneys are beginning to shut down. Despite this, the patient is still channeling her chakra to keep the child safe. The patient confesses that if she begins to worsen, we are to induce labor at seven and a half months, despite the risks it will have on her body and that of the child's.'
"She was not a Clan-born shinobi. She did not have the genetic background to weather the aftereffects of that seal." Tsunade had told him, her lips twisting into a grimace. "But I had hoped that when I taught it to her that she wouldn't have to use it…but during the war…she had used up nearly thirty years of her lifespan."
Tsunade had told him that despite his wife's strength, there had been very little hope that Sakura would survive past forty-something.
But Sakura had barely been thirty-six, not forty and it had been just a little too soon for her body to give out.
It had been her choice to have the child that would kill her.
It had been her choice that left him with her half-hopes and dreams and the little boy that had her coloring yet no mother to guide him.
It had been her choice to hope for a shot in hell that she would survive—that she would make it despite the risks—and Sasuke could imagine her pretty, bottle-green eyes begging him to understand that she could not, would not abort the little bundle of cells that would take her from him.
Around him, he heard the call of a familiar voice, but as he clutched his son to his chest (the son that she had given her life for) Sakura's hospital files and her last will and testament, he could not bring himself to answer.
What she had done, what she had hoped for, was the last crack to the heart that shattered in his chest.
Today ends with Kizashi putting Sasuke to bed, trying to pry the papers out of his son in law's hands, only achieving this when the boy drifted off to sleep, Kaito in his arms. It had been a difficult afternoon after the his son-in-law collapsed onto the sofa so withdrawn Kizashi wondered if he should have called Naruto or even Hatake Kakashi to help him deal. In the end, Kizashi had managed to get him to eat some tomatoes and drink some tea, a blend Sakura had gotten Sasuke for his last birthday in Iron country, and Kizashi had handed him a lukewarm bottle of milk to feed little Kaito.
Sasuke had looked a little more peaceful, the sharp grief in his features lessening only slightly, as he fed his son, occasionally murmuring little nothings into his ear, keeping the child close enough that if it were possible, they would have merged together.
Kizashi had managed to calm a stricken Sarada and had pulled Boruto aside, telling him to take her out, to visit her mother in the cemetary but in the end, the boy hadn't been able to pry his eldest grandchild from the door of Sasuke's room. After an hour of Sarada's anxious churning and Boruto continuously commenting on the weather, Kizashi had told Sarada to take a nap and Boruto to go home for a while.
Sarada agreed, albeit with difficulty and Boruto only left to eventually return with an armload of food his mother prepared for them—onigiri, sashimi, Udon, curries and sauces and breads that will last them for at least a month—and Kizashi thanked him, grateful to the woman that was so obviously mourning his daughter.
He waits until it is dark, the sun having receded behind the Kage mountain, to take out the papers he had hidden in the living room drawer.
As soon as he reads the words, he understands the shock that Sasuke went through. His own angry tears—angry at Tsunade for teaching her the seal, angry at Sakura for taking such a risk, angry at himself for not noticing his only daughter was in such pain—overwhelmed him and he cupped his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking from the sorrow and grief that bubbled up in his chest.
Today ends with Kizashi trying not to scream at the news he has just received, and wondering how—if—he should tell Sarada why her mother was no longer with them.
More angstttttt. Cos I love it. But, eventually, it'll be all good. :) Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me your thoughts :)