He watched from the ground as the girl paced around the room. His earlier concern vanishing the more he studied the girl before him, however, even as that concern diminished a new one came to mind. The girl in front of from him looked like his daughter, down to the frown on her face, to the slight pout on her lips from her anger. The way she paced around the room reminded Sasuke of when Sarada was younger and grew impatient. Her voice was no different than his daughter's, yet there was mocking tone in her voice when she said papa. There was a coldness in her eyes when she looked at him, and when the light hit her at just the right angle, he knew the girl that just sent him flying with her fist was not his daughter.
She was unconcerned with him, pacing about the room, other than the cold eyes she would direct at him. Even with her lack of fear, and him still on the ground, he knew he had the advantage. Which is why it why it surprised him when the girl stopped in her pacing, and standing over him said, "you are weak papa."
Ignoring her comment, he asked the only thing on his mind, "where is Sarada?"
"I am Sarada, can't you tell papa?" There it was, the mocking tone, a hard-cold glare in his direction. It was eerie how this girl reminded him of his past. "You don't get it!" It was the first time her mask broke, "but if mama was here she would tell you." Sasuke watched as tears fell freely from the girl's eyes, it took everything in him to not go and try to console her. It's not Sarada. It's not Sarada.
Instead he watched helplessly as her anger seeped out of her, "you never cared about me, they hate me for my blood. They hated me something out of my control, because of you."
He ignored the way his heart throbbed at her words and the chill that went up his spine, because maybe the girl in front of him wasn't Sarada, but it carried her voice, her face, and she was broken. It's not Sarada. "Claim to be Sarada all you want, but you are not my daughter. She isn't like-"
"Like what?" The girl demanded, sharingan active, "like me? Use your sharingan papa." At her words Sasuke forced himself to ignore the chill spreading throughout his body. This is not Sarada. This is not Sarada. "Do it. Or, are you afraid of the truth?"
"You are not Sarada." She was silent but the smirk gracing her face never vanished, "and don't think that wearing my daughter's face will protect you."
"It did once before."
A/N: idk how many people have stories come to them in the way mine do. for example the birthday one, and this one originate with the same idea, pacing. That's literally what inspired them, this idea of someone pacing, and because I write poetry, I had to consider is this for a poem or is this for fanfiction? Given that the idea of pacing did not leave me with the last little story, I came up with this, and if this isn't it, I'm going to have to write a poem to get the idea of pacing out of my head. Anyway, tell me what you think, and 10 points for whoever figures wtf is going in this story, because even though the story was inspired by someone pacing around a room, it does have some plot. And if anything this is just 1 part of 2, and it might just be something that stays in Beginnings, I'm not too committed to the story as to even try to make more than 2. however 3 parts is as high as I am willing to go even now.