title: -
prompt: #19 - blood
summary: sarada has never been too fond of heights, but papa's hands are strong and steady holding her in place and she is not afraid.
Papa's not one for physical contact: he doesn't hold Sarada's hand like Chouchou's father tries to when he's in an awfully good mood, or hug her tight around her middle, like the Seventh does with Himawari. Sarada notices this, accepts it, but some days she can't help but feel the slightest bit jealous.
Mama confronts Papa about it one night, her voice all fire and scorched at the edges. Even Sarada is afraid as she eavesdrops from behind the bedroom door, the floor cold beneath her knees.
Papa tries to calm her down and tells Mama that she of all people should know how important she and Sarada are to him. Don't worry, he tells her. Papa is gentle as he smooths back her hair.
But Mama needs a better answer than that. Her irises are aflame, and Sarada wonders how Papa can withstand the heat of her eyes. Mama's voice is rigid and unwavering when she asks him why he doesn't treat Sarada like a daughter when she's waited so long, her entire life, for him. She loves you with everything that she is, Mama says.
Papa is silent for a long while, and Sarada has time to wonder if Papa didn't want her. She bites her lip and pushes the thought away with every fiber of her being.
After a moment, Papa says that sometimes he can still see the blood staining his hands from all the people he's wounded, all the people he's struck down and killed. He speaks slowly and quiets all at once before showing Mama his palms, turning them skyward.
It is Mama's turn to be still. She understands.
Sarada peeks through the gap of the door again and sees Papa staring down at his hands. From where she sits, she can see that they are as clean and bare as ever, save for a pale scar or two, but perhaps he doesn't see them that way.
I can't touch a child with these hands—my child, Papa says, softly. His voice is hollow, and Sarada has never heard him speak like this.
Mama is gentler now, and when she reaches for Papa, he folds her to his chest. They are like that for a while, and Sarada smiles at the sight of them, warmed to the bone.
Papa learns slowly, steadily. One day they walk to the supermarket together, and he catches Sarada's hand as she swings it at her side. She is wholly surprised but says nothing, and Papa is silent himself. There is a soft smile alight on his face and she shares it.
Papa's hand is broad and so much larger than Sarada's, his skin almost rough against hers, but nevertheless, Sarada squeezes Papa's hand in hers, the distance between their palms dwindling. From beside them, Mama beams, her arm linked with Papa's.
Another day they take a trip to a fruit orchard as a family, and Sarada is too short to reach the low growing apples so Papa scoops her up and sits her atop his shoulders. Sarada laughs and picks four apples: one for Papa, one for Mama, one for herself, and another to bring home for Chouchou, even though Chouchou more or less despises fruit and vegetables and everything healthy.
It's the thought that counts, Sarada muses. She tilts her head upward and feels as if she could touch the clouds. She has never been too fond of heights, but Papa's hands are strong and steady holding her in place and Sarada is not afraid.
It's many days later when Papa has to leave on a mission and Sarada wakes at daybreak to see him off. She stumbles into the kitchen, where Mama is helping him pack enough lunches for the days he'll be gone. Sarada rubs her eyes, and Mama offers her a bite of tomato from one of the many bento boxes.
Sarada declines at once, wanting Papa to have more than enough of his favorite food during the time he'll be away from home, and instead swipes a piece of sweet egg since he doesn't like them nearly as much.
Papa hugs Mama tight after she hands him a bundle of food, kissing her forehead before the corner of her mouth. Mama laughs brightly, and then Papa turns to Sarada.
Blood rushes to Sarada's face and she blushes, unsure of what to do, but when Papa opens his arms, she runs into them easily. His grasp is strong and she feels so at home.
In a quiet voice, she tells him she loves him.
She can hear the smile in Papa's words when he tells her that he loves her even more.