CHAPTER 2: STRANGER CAME HOME
"New ANBU applicants seem promising, despite the peaceful times-" Naruto's upbeat tone was towards a very uninterested advisor. Sasuke almost chuckled at the normalcy; the ever-enthusiastic Naruto and the infamously lazy genius Shikamaru, sitting opposite each other, going through heaps of documents.
Naruto, his once sunshine-bright demeanour was slightly dimmed by the weight of paperwork, hunched over his desk like a wilting sunflower.
"He is definitely not listening to your yapping, loser," The door creaked open, and a figure shrouded in a dark cloak sauntered in. The guards, recognizing the unmistakable silhouette, instinctively tensed, but years of habit prevented them from the usual formalities.
This wasn't just any shinobi; this was Uchiha Sasuke, the infamous ex-avenger whose return was as unexpected as a summer snowstorm.
A shriek erupted, "Sasuke!" Naruto almost jumped off his chair, his robe twirled around him. Towering stacks of documents cast long shadows across his face, emphasising the worry lines etched beneath his cerulean eyes. Papers scattered across the polished floor like startled autumn leaves.
Shikamaru, ever the picture of composure, didn't even bother to swivel his head. He simply leaned back in his chair, tipping it precariously as his onyx eyes, sharp as a hawk's, assessed the ceiling, ignoring the entry of the intruder.
Sasuke, unfazed by the dramatic display, slid into the chair beside Shikamaru with an air of nonchalance that belied the storm brewing within him.
A sardonic smirk played on his lips as he met Naruto's bewildered stare. "Don't be loud, Dobe," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that pulled Naruto back to his seat.
Shikamaru, finally breaking his silence, spoke without shifting his gaze from the ceiling. "Uchiha," he acknowledged, his voice as dry as desert sand.
Sasuke offered a curt nod, his dark eyes seeking solace in the familiar blue that flickered across the room. "Nara," he replied, his voice a touch softer, a stark contrast to the steely edge he presented to the world.
Naruto, still reeling from the initial shock, finally managed to stammer out a question. "You... you're back? Any mission update?" His voice, usually booming with confidence, was now a mere squeak, barely audible above the scratching of a crow's feet on the window sill.
Sasuke shrugged; the movement barely perceptible beneath the folds of his cloak. He maintained his facade of cool indifference, but a flicker of emotion – perhaps regret, perhaps something deeper – danced in his obsidian eyes. "No," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Back... to settle down."
The room went deathly silent. Even the ever-stoic Shikamaru straightened in his chair, his sharp gaze boring into Sasuke's impassive mask, his expressions with squinted eyes and composed smirk was guarded to not show the hint of intrigue.
Naruto, his face a mask of stunned disbelief, gaped at his friend. His mouth worked silently, forming words that refused to come out. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the frantic pounding of Naruto's heart, a drumbeat echoing in the cavernous office.
"WHAT?" Naruto blinked and bellowed, utter shock and surprise glazed over his tanned face, his mouth parted slightly as if to let out a string of nonsense which he himself held back knowing the possibility of Sasuke shutting him down.
"I thought you'd be happy, Naruto," Sasuke finally said, his voice laced with a challenge, a dare to break the silence.
Naruto shook his head, his blond hair whipping around his face. "Happy? Sasuke! I am..." He fumbled for words, his emotions a whirlwind within him. "Elated! Overjoyed!" A wide grin, as bright as the midday sun, finally split his face. He surged forward, his chair scraping against the floor with a loud screech. But before he could engulf Sasuke in a bone-crushing hug, Naruto stopped himself, his grin faltering slightly and asked, "Why, I mean...I am... How?"
Curiosity piqued and flickered over at Nara and he asked, "I wonder why too."
"I have travelled too much and it is not interesting anymore," Sasuke replied, composing the contorted facial expressions of his to keep the facade, to not show that there was much more to his return. The guilt of having a family behind waiting, the regret of never finding his true home, the responsibility of serving Konoha and carrying Uchiha's name like his brother – all of that propelled him to return. And much more, which Sasuke shoved back into the depths of his mind.
"It has been 8 years, Sasuke! 13 in total! I finally got my friend back!" Naruto hovered beside Sasuke, nudging him, "I need my hug!" A manic grin stretched across his face, his cerulean eyes sparkling with a mixture of joy and relief.
Sasuke's jaw clenched. A muscle in his temple throbbed with a familiar annoyance. "Dobe," he spat, tapping his foot impatiently.
He sighed, a sound laced with exhaustion, and rose to his feet, steeling himself for the inevitable. I give up, Naruto. You get your fucking hug.
Naruto lunged forward to engulf him in a bone-crushing hug, Sasuke believed that even Kurama would be peeved within Naruto with the way Naruto rocked left to right holding the rigid frame of the Uchiha. "I can't breathe, get off me!" Sasuke's muscles slacked against the blonde as he winced.
Naruto finally released him, a sheepish grin replacing his earlier excitement. "Sorry, Teme. Just...happy you're back." He scratched the back of his head, his gaze flickering nervously. "Sakura's gonna be so stoked. She waited a long time for you."
Sasuke sank back into the chair, carefully avoiding Naruto's gaze. He knew the unspoken accusation in those blue eyes. Naruto, for all his obliviousness, hated that Sasuke had left Sakura behind.
But Naruto didn't understand. Didn't know the darkness that clung to Sasuke, the burden he couldn't share.
So, Sasuke remained silent, the guilt a bitter pill in his throat. But when Naruto mentioned Sakura, a cold dread washed over him. The colour drained from his already pale face, his breath catching in his throat. His foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floor, a nervous counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. He searched for words, any words, to deflect the conversation, but his mind was a tangled mess.
Thankfully, Shikamaru, the ever-logical genius, emerged from his contemplative silence. He stretched languidly, the sound echoing in the tense room.
"I'll handle the ANBU applications," he drawled, his voice a welcome distraction. "You, Naruto, should focus on the Raikage's visit."
"Ah! Yes!" Naruto rushed back to his seat, "You see, Teme, being Hokage isn't easy." Naruto snickered as he dissolved himself into the documents again, silence befell and the frantic thumping of Sasuke's heart quelled.
But, as usual, nothing is ever straight and predictable with the Uzumaki brat, because what Naruto said as his voice dropped an octave lower, crushed and exposed the cowardice of the Uchiha, and scrapped on his nerves, "You should have visited Sakura-chan first, I know Sarada would be at the academy...but your wife has been-"
The gears in Sasuke's mind rattled to a halt, as all thoughts he intended to keep at bay came lunging forward at him. "I just thought of visiting the Hokage first." The cogs turned and turned, gradually clicking into place as he fabricated a lie that he knew that the dead last of Rookie 9 caught.
"You met me as Sasuke, my best friend, Teme. Not as Sasuke, my best shinobi, Uchiha," Naruto glared, looking up from the inked papers, a flicker of recognition danced in those expressive eyes, as if his friend could read each lineament of the pale face glorified by majestic eyes.
Sasuke looked away, his throat constricting. "We have talked about this-" Sasuke heaved a sigh, no longer intending to hide behind his unwillingness to pursue that line of conversation which he dreaded.
Naruto slammed the fist on the table, "Sasuke! It was the shittiest thing you could do. Initially you used to visit, till Sarada's fourth birthday...what happened after? Eight years...you were gone! Eight fucking years! Sakura-Chan... I don't know what she sees in you; to be honest, she should dump your ass." A gaping wound of his friends, looked as bruised as it was years ago.
"Even I don't know," Sasuke rasped, the words scraping against his parched throat. His eyes peered to the side, cocking his head to his right, to see the impending dusk as the sky started to darken outside.
The chirping of the birds was quelled, the purple hues of the sky enticed him, reminded him of the lavender beds he saw in the Uchiha District. The cool breeze snaked through the open window, carrying the lavender scent, he knew it was the memory of his district that was aching in his bones.
"You are a bastard! She deserves so much better!" Naruto cursed, grunting.
"I know," Sasuke mumbled, eyes still veiled towards the window, the cool breeze sifting inside the warmly lit room and sending a shiver to his body.
"Go to her!" Naruto threw an ink brush at him, to catch Sasuke's lingering attention.
Sasuke took it as a sign to do the unthinkable – face his fears. He feared what he left behind. He feared who he left behind. The wreckage of the past – he knew, he couldn't hide away and not face her anymore.
"I visited the Uchiha District, Thank you for that. It turned out better than I expected." Sasuke stared at the Hokage and was hurt yet silenced. The image of his Uchiha District contrasted with the way Naruto had changed the cursed grounds. The red of the blood splatter was turned to the red bricks of the shops, the crushed stones were turned to tall apartment buildings.
The wilted petals of a massacre there were now filled with blooming and dancing lavenders and budding cherry blossoms.
Naruto leaned back, scratching the back of his neck, "Hinata, Sai, Yamato, Shikamaru and Ino – they all deserve your thanks for many of the ideas there. We will discuss that later. Go and finally show your pretty fucking face to your beautiful wife." He waved at Sasuke with a pointed glare.
Sasuke whirled around, his heels pressed hard on the floor, his entire body felt as if each muscle pulled his existence down with the weight. His hard steps spilled each ounce of strength that he mustered to bring his existence back to the village, now a part of him was feasting upon his crumbling resolve and rippling in his thoughts, pushing him to move back to the exit gate of Konoha.
Maybe coming back was a mistake. Maybe he was destined to forever be a stranger in his own home.
But a flicker of hope, faint and fragile like a newborn bud, pushed him forward. Maybe... just maybe... this time could be different.
.
.
"How do you not know anything about him?" A shriek, laced with a sob, "You are never sure about what he likes or dislikes, mom." Once the sobs subsided, a firm tone emerged.
"You know, your dad hasn't been around for so long so-" An annoyed voice called out, the words holding resentment and gloom.
A strangled cry tore through the tense silence. "Are you even his wife? Am I even your daughter? Why don't I look like you but Papa's friend in the picture!"
A little figure stood her ground, tiny fists balled up at her side, the Uchiha Symbol etched onto the red fabric of her shirt. Sasuke's eyes scanned the scene, happening at the wide patio of his house.
"What did you say!" A loud thump of foot on the ground, creating a wave of ripple that even Sasuke felt beneath his feet.
A fist balled in the air, ready to be smacked on the ground to tear the ground apart, a show of pulsating anger. A simmering rage glowed in those familiar eyes which always looked at Sasuke as if he was a God.
But Sasuke's voice interrupted the quarrel, "Sakura!"
Sakura's red-rimmed eyes were boring holes at the figure in front of her, but as soon as the velvety voice crackled the air, her eyes darted to the source and widened.
Emerald eyes snapped towards him, wide with surprise and a flicker of something he couldn't decipher. Her lips parted, her body shivered, Sasuke could notice all the minute details.
The tiny figure turned around, small and slim, the build was just like Sakura. Pale face, adorned by red glasses, short and raven hair which were swiped to the side. The dark eyes, the symbolic eyes of an Uchiha, glared at the approaching figure of Sasuke.
"Sarada," Sasuke whispered as he stood between the mother and daughter. Sasuke's eyes couldn't believe that his little baby grew up like that; so beautiful.
Her stance looked defensive towards Sasuke, hands folded on her chest, a frown etched on her forehead, a slight pout of annoyance that reminded him of Itachi, for some reason. Something his brother only did when it came to sweets which he should have avoided but dearly wanted.
"You are really here?" Sakura chimed in, her voice low and hesitant.
Sasuke's gaze drifted to her, "Yes."
"Papa?" Sarada squinted, questioningly. Her voice, laced with suspicion, cut through the strained reunion.
Sakura sobbed and almost jumped on Sasuke, wrapping her hands around his neck and burying her face in his neck, tip-toeing to reach up to him. Before he could react, he was engulfed by the smell of cherry blossoms and roses, a smell too prominent for him but he let it simmer around him.
Sasuke gulped and then swiftly, wrapped his arm around the small of her back. "Sasuke...you are home, I missed you. We missed you!" Sakura's voice was muffled by her tears which were staining his neck. Her voice carried a silver of relief and a hint of disbelief.
Sasuke pulled back, rubbing the back of Sakura, offering her a nod, "I missed you both too." He didn't lie, despite his run from Konoha and his family, he missed his small family and they were always a dull ache in his heart during his many travels.
He missed the way little four-year old Sarada used to hold his index finger with an iron-tight grip of her tiny chubby hands, he missed that instead of Sakura, Sarada used to prefer the arm of Sasuke to calm down if she cried in the middle of the night. He missed the way Sakura would argue with Sasuke about teaching the fireball Jutsu to Sarada.
Sasuke's lips quirked up in a smile, he stepped towards Sarada, kneeled down in front of her, "Hi, Sarada." Her eyes held a wariness that cut deep.
"You have returned?" Sarada cocked her head to the side.
Sasuke's smile stretched, his hand lifted up to caress the cheek of his little one, "Yes, I have."
"To stay?" She leaned away from his touch, defiantly.
"Yes," Sasuke reassured. Really? He wondered.
Sarada's taut wire tone gnawed at his insides, "For how long?" Sarada's eyes hardened, He wanted to laugh, a hollow, humourless sound, at the uncanny resemblance.
The way she held herself aloof, the distrust in her eyes – it was like looking into a mirror reflecting a younger version of himself, of his brother. The lack of trust was amusing, only if it wasn't directed to her own father. A pang of guilt shot up through the veins of Sasuke at the realisation that his distance had done a damage that may not recover. But Sasuke owed it to his daughter to at least try.
"Sarada, let your Papa inside," Sakura pleaded, her voice strained. "What are all these questions-" Sakura came to stand beside Sarada and put her hand on her shoulder.
"Let her ask whatever she wants," Sasuke cut her off, aiding his daughter to grill his father as much as she liked because Sasuke knew he deserved the burnt of all of his past mishaps.
The years of an empty chair on the dinner table, brief letters and gifts - they all echoed in the questions of mistrust she threw on him.
The sun shone brightly on Sarada's face, playing with the pale and black of her identity and adding warmth to the cold white of her face.
"I am here. For as long as you want me," Hesitantly, he reached out and gently unfolded her arms. He took her hand, cool and small in his, and brought it up to his lips.
The calloused skin of his palm brushed against hers, sending a jolt through him. It was a tentative touch, a silent apology for all the touches he'd missed.
"You can ask me whatever you want, regarding every like and dislike of mine." Sarada didn't pull back her hand, that is a good start, right. Sasuke wondered.
"Why have you returned?" Sarada's voice turned cold, pulling back her hand from his finally. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a barely perceptible sign of exhaustion.
As if catching herself, she straightened her back, her chin held high. At that moment, Sasuke saw his twelve-year-old self but now Sasuke could see his knelt frame reflected on her glasses and wondered, if that was how she saw him, broken, run down, on the ground.
He cleared his throat, "My mission is completed," he said, offering a partial truth. The whole truth, a tangled mess of fear and regret, remained locked away within him. The entirety of the truth remained churning within him.
I came back because I still hadn't found my home out there. I came back, with the same fears, that my daughter would hate the man her father is. I came back, but I still feel like a stranger.
"Why haven't you ever visited us in the last eight years?" Sarada gritted her teeth, her voice strained. Her bottom lip jutted out and almost trembled but being his blood, she remained perched on her spot, draining herself of her nervousness to not have him see.
But she was his, and Sasuke saw the cracks on her that he put. Her voice was laced with a raw pain that made him flinch. A tear welled up in her eye, shimmering like a tiny crystal in the sunlight. She bit her lip, trying to hold it back, but the vulnerability in her stance spoke louder than words.
The patio of their house, adorned by humble greenery and wooden table and chairs, was silent but only thrummed with the occasional investigation between a father and a daughter. The chirping of birds sounded distant, the cool breeze swishing between the tall canopies and bright leaves were unheard, the heat blazing from the sun and warming the ground enough to burn the knees that were dug on the cobblestone while he was bowing in front of his daughter – all of it presented an interesting picture of a former avenger's misplaced life.
He faced the wreckage of his choices. A choice of abandoning his life. The regret kept on piling up, weighing him down, as he continued to read his daughter's face.
"I have made many mistakes, one of them was abandoning you. I won't do that again," Sasuke confessed, his visible dark eye dipped, the frown on his lip emerging. The burns of his own actions were still scalding his insides, setting his realities ablaze. The dust swirled around his knelt knees, the grit rough against his trouser fabric.
"We will see about it," Sarada scoffed. Sasuke understood the mistrust, but it still stung. Sasuke felt a dull ache in his chest, a heavy weight settling on his heart. It was as if someone had reached in and squeezed the life out of him, leaving behind a hollow shell.
The burnt orange glow of the setting sun cast long shadows across the porch, painting the scene in a melancholic light.
Sarada stepped back and geared to run inside their house, "You look like me and my mother, Sarada," Sasuke held her arm stopping her. Sarada frowned and then looked down on the ground for a while before jerking his hand away from her arm and dashed inside the house, the door slammed shut with a loud thump.
Years of travel had etched lines not just on his face, but on his soul, a reflection of the decisions that had led him here. He brushed the dust from his knees, the simple act a metaphor for trying to erase the mistakes of the past.
His eyes lifted to meet the hesitant looking wife of his. Sakura seemed to hug her own arms, chewing on the bottom of his lip, averting her eyes from his but occasionally snatching a look at him. "Sakura...I know, I may not be welcomed in your home-"
"What are you saying? It is our home, Sasuke. I have waited for you to return for so long. Of course, you are welcomed here." Sakura stepped into his space, her voice gaining strength. Her palms, warm and familiar, pressed against his chest.
The intimacy that was scarcely shared, now felt like a forgotten melody. His body, a betrayal of his will, flinched at her touch. His body froze at her touch, recoiled, and he did not want to show it.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. Instead, a wave of guilt washed over him, a stark reminder of the connection he'd severed. He leaned down, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, and rested his forehead against hers. This is how you try, Sasuke. His mental voice guided him.
Sakura gasped, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "I love you, no matter what," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Sasuke forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle and foreign on his face. "Thank you for accepting me again," Sasuke's heartbeat hitched. He spoke the truth, the gratefulness towards Sakura was an infinite thought that lingered in his mind for years. He returned to make amends and he couldn't have, if Sakura was not willing to welcome him the same way.
After all, he was the one who ran away. "I will put in the efforts for Sarada, Sakura. I hope she accepts me as well...I won't blame her if she doesn't-"
His throat burned as the words were let out. His mind befuddled at the thought of Sarada never accepting him.
"Sasuke, she loves you. She is a mature child, a bit hasty at times because of her age. She is going to enter her teenage years so she is bound to act out and everything...but I assure you, she loves you and now that you are back and staying, she will be happier. Give her some time!" Sakura pulled away, leaning to his side and planting a kiss on the corner of his lips. He gulped and ignored the twitch on his face muscles.
"What were you both arguing about?" They pulled apart, and Sakura took his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. Her pink hair, vibrant against the fading light, framed her face. A blush bloomed on her cheeks, a flicker of the old Sakura peeking through.
She was pulling him towards their house. The house that did not look like his. Not that he knew what his house would have looked like.
Every step towards the white painted door, reminded him of the start of all that – the family he had. The pounding of his heart in his chest bared his insecurities, poked at his resolve.
"Nothing, she had found your picture with Team Taka and has been wallowing about her similar style to Karin and then she asked me about some things about you...naturally, I didn't know much of them so she...felt like we aren't in love and well, you heard." Sakura unlocked the door, leaning on his arm. "Welcome home," she squeezed his palm and smiled widely, her blush deepened and her eyes twinkled.
She went ahead of him and then he followed her inside.
Home.
Home?
Is this home? He wondered as his eyes scanned around, the hallway was narrow and the house was eerily quiet, the only sound his own hesitant footsteps echoing off the groaning floorboards underneath his feet. The stairs leading upstairs to his right. To his left, an arched doorway revealed a glimpse of the living room, adorned by the blue-coloured, embroidered cushioned sofa set with a black glass table in the middle. The warm lights hooked on the ceiling, illuminating the room in an ethereal glow.
Moving past the living room, he moved under the staircase to find the wide kitchen with white cabinets lined up on the top and a marble slab rounded up beneath as an L shaped.
Sarada was perched precariously on the countertop, a bag of peanuts in hand. Her eyes, the same dark pools as his own, widened briefly before she scrambled down, her silence a heavy weight in the air.
As she passed him, she thrust one of the bags of peanuts at him, a gesture so abrupt it could have been mistaken for hostility. Sasuke, however, saw a flicker of something else in her eyes – a tentative offering, a bridge tentatively extended. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took the bag, the rough paper crackling in his hand.
"They are salted ones," she muttered.
"You like them?" he questioned.
She was binding her half-empty peanut bag with a tie and again aiming to climb up to the cabinet but Sasuke leaned near her, to take the bag and put it in the cabinet himself. He turned to her, his back digging on the slab behind, his posture hunched.
Sarada squinted at him, her posture wary. "Yes," she finally replied, a hint of defiance softening into something that resembled curiosity.
"I like tomatoes," he said, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. He watched as a spark of gleam lit up in her eyes. An interest?
"Why?" she questioned him, a shade less guarded. Yes, the interest.
"My mother used to make anything with Tomato after my training, and I have good memories of the food by her," he opened up, trying to replicate the soft lilt of his mother's voice whenever she shared anything with her.
Her words tumbled out with a wide-eyed look, "You should go grocery shopping with us, we will buy lots of tomatoes then," Sarada managed to have her voice sound like a warm embrace, that made his abandoned heart flutter. His daughter talked softly with him, offered him a chance to forge a bond, smiled at him – perhaps, this is home.
The realisation seemed to dawn on Sarada too, and the warmth in her eyes flickered out. She pulled back, her characteristic squint returning as she pushed her glasses up her nose. With a mumbled excuse, she darted out of the kitchen, leaving Sasuke standing alone amidst the scent of salted peanuts.
Silence nestled with him yet again, but for the first time, in a long time, the silence didn't berate him or coiled around his neck like a snake choking him.
It felt like a comfortable pause in a conversation, a lull before the next wave. The silence that Sarada left him with, cloaked him like a warm embrace, filled with hopeful and curious anticipation. He revelled in it.
His search for home began, and he had already found the warmth; Sarada reminded him of the comfort of his mother and his brother.
Sakura's voice, gentle and familiar, drifted in from upstairs. "Sasuke, I've drawn you a bath. You can go freshen up."
Sakura. Now that was the turf, where Sasuke had been failing religiously. He didn't intend to crash this time, but he knew...he knew his reality. He could feel the chaos stir up, he was unaware of the details; but he knew, he knew something. He just couldn't decipher yet.
.
.
.
"The old man ditched us again, mom! As always!" Her son huffed; his voice laced with a petulance that tugged at Hinata's already frayed nerves.
The boisterous crowd thrummed around Hinata like a relentless wave. Boruto, a ball of restless energy with his spiky yellow hair bouncing, tugged impatiently at her hand. His whiskered face, usually animated with a mischievous grin, wore a scowl as deep as the twilight shadows lengthening on the cobblestone streets.
Hinata's gaze drifted to her other child, Himawari. Nestled in her grasp, Himawari's small hand was surprisingly cool against Hinata's own, a stark contrast to the fiery temper simmering in Boruto. Her cerulean eyes, the same shade as her father's, held a flicker of concern, a silent question mirroring Boruto's discontent.
The wind, carrying the laughter and chatter of the throng, tugged at the loose strands of her dark blue hair, brushing them against her pale but rose-tinted cheeks. "Calm down, Boruto."
"Brother, he is busy!" Himawari chimed in, "Dad is the Hokage, he needs to take care of the village. Right, mommy?"
"Yes, Hima," Hinata offered, her voice a gentle melody in the cacophony of the loud streets.
"Well, we are his family. He is never with us, but always with the village...what is the point of being our Dad then?" A familiar ache settled in Hinata's chest, a dull throb that mirrored the throbbing in her temples.
This question, like a persistent weed, had taken root in their family life for years. It was a weed that sprouted anew with every missed dinner, every cancelled outing, every empty promise. Hinata had her throbbing temples testing every ounce of patience which she had started to lack.
Hinata forced a smile, the effort etching a faint line between her brows. "I am here, Boruto. We can still have fun," she consoled, her hand reaching out to smooth down his unruly hair.
Boruto wasn't convinced. He mumbled a sullen reply, his gaze drifting away from her to take in the dazzling spectacle of the decorated stalls. The tempting aromas of sizzling meat and sweet treats filled the air, a tantalizing contrast to the bitter taste of disappointment growing in Hinata's mouth.
As they navigated the bustling streets, the Uchiha district pulsed with vibrant life. The last rays of the setting sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with a palette of fiery orange and inky purple. Wispy clouds, like brush strokes across a canvas, drifted in and out of view, momentarily obscuring the pale moon peek-a-booing above.
Hinata announced their plans for the evening, her voice strained but determined. "First, we'll visit the orphanage, like usual. Then, we'll treat ourselves to some delicious ramen at Leaf Shabu!"
Himawari's face lit up with delight, a smile blossoming on her cherubic features. She clutched her dango stick tighter, savouring each bite with exaggerated moans of pleasure. Boruto, however, continued to walk in silence, his eyes flitting from shop to shop, a mask of indifference hiding the storm brewing within him
With every step closer to the orphanage, a familiar weight settled in Hinata's heart. Every click of her heels on the cobblestone felt like a hammer blow on her already bruised spirit. Naruto had promised to join them this time, but other promises were broken. A fresh wave of disappointment rolled over her, threatening to drown out the remnants of hope that clung desperately to life.
Another burden of pain settled within her, fed on her already tarnished resolve. She had willed her heart to tolerate the occasional hit of disappointments from her husband, but she was mentally exhausted to see their kids being in the middle of that.
Boruto was vocal.
Himawari tried to act as a mediator.
But she knew how both of them had the thought, at the back of their minds, why does he always disappoint. She understood why Boruto felt neglected, why Himawari tried to bridge the gap.
Hinata knew the reason of the tormented life they led, but to her misfortune, she could never make anyone understand that.
It was a secret that clawed at her insides, butchered every budding hope every now and then burned each desire that had nestled within her.
Boruto's sudden burst of energy snapped the string of Hinata's despondent thoughts like a taut thread snapping. He darted ahead, swallowed by the surging mass of humanity.
One moment he was beside her, the next, he was a dandelion seed carried away on a sudden gust of wind, lost amongst the throng. Panic flared in her chest momentarily, a raw ember threatening to ignite. He was a needle in a haystack, impossible to locate amidst the chaotic press of bodies. without Byakugan, of course.
To her right, her calm daughter who was a stark contrast to her brother's impulsiveness, clung to her skirt and moved beside her, licking her Dango-sticky fingers. A pout formed on Himawari's cherubic face, mirroring the occasional blush that Hinata herself was known for, as she eyed the tantalizing array of treats devoured by other children.
"Hima, you ate three Dango!" Hinata giggled and pinched her rosy-cheek, Hima flushed at her mom's teasing and reflected the occasional blush that Hinata was famous for.
The walk towards the orphanage became a silent march. The air, heavy with the sweet perfume of blooming flowers, momentarily masked the acrid tang of disappointment that lodged in Hinata's throat. The joyous cackles of children playing mingled with the authoritative barks of patrolling ninja. On either side, the animated bargaining of adults over vibrant fruits and vegetables wove a tapestry of sound.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the end of the street, a discordant note marring the enthusiastic symphony. Hinata frowned, her brow furrowing with a nascent worry. People began to gather around a stall, their voices rising in a crescendo of confusion.
Even without the all-seeing gaze of the Byakugan, Hinata could detect a flash of yellow amidst the throng – a telltale sign of Boruto's presence.
"Is that nii-san?" Himawari queried, her voice barely audible over the din.
"What trouble has he gotten himself into now?" Hinata muttered under her breath, a surge of apprehensive energy coursing through her. With a determined set to her jaw, she pushed through the crowd, her hand clasping Himawari's tightly.
"How dare you push her, you old man!" Boruto's voice boomed, targeted at the older man who owned the cart of meat-stuffed patties.
"Scoot along, kid," the vendor barked dismissively. "Don't meddle in adult affairs that don't concern you."
Boruto was fired up, indignation bothered his core, "You can't push people like that, especially if they work for you."
"Who do you think you are?" The vendor rounded the cart, his towering frame casting a menacing shadow over Boruto. A thick beard framed a face etched with years of weathering, and his coal-black eyes narrowed with annoyance.
Compared to the vendor's imposing physique, Boruto looked like a fledgling sparrow facing down a hawk. One swipe of that calloused heavy-armed hand could easily send him flying.
And that thought made Hinata's heart take a hit.
Just as Hinata surged forward, a deep voice, gravelly and laced with authority, cut through the tension. "What's the commotion here?"
The bearded man directed his strong and frowning gaze to the man who questioned him. A tall figure emerged from the crowd, his presence commanding attention.
He was cloaked in black, the fabric billowing around him like a storm cloud. A sword hung on the sling around his waist, partly hidden by the flappy material of the cloak. His face was framed by long black locks, strategically hiding one of his eyes. Hinata's breathing sped up, when the recognition started to seep into her skin.
The vendor scoffed, rolling his eyes dismissively. "Another busybody poking their nose in where it doesn't belong."
The cloaked figure surveyed the scene with a practised efficiency, his gaze lingering for a tense moment on Boruto. The young boy stood protectively beside a small girl, her age mirroring Himawari's as Hinata guessed. Blood, a crimson stain against the dusty street, marred the girl's arm, and her tear-streaked face crumpled in silent sobs.
As the cloaked figure took in the sight, his jaw clenched, a flicker of steely anger replacing the initial stoicism. Seeing the kids at the mercy of a burly man, he seethed, Hinata could read those expressions.
A woman, emboldened by the newcomer's presence, emerged from the throng. Stepping behind Boruto, she addressed the cloaked figure in a trembling voice, "Sir, this bright kid saw this girl being bullied by the vendor. She accidentally dropped a tray, and in retaliation, he shoved her to the ground. The boy intervened, only to be subjected to verbal abuse and threats." Her voice hitched, betraying the fear that had gripped the onlookers. "We tried to call for patrolling ninjas, but the vendor only grew more aggressive."
Hinata, her heart hammering against her ribs, crouched beside Boruto. The small girl, her hair a disheveled mess of brown, trembled uncontrollably in Hinata's grasp. Red-rimmed eyes, glistening with unshed tears, reflected the terror of the encounter. Her lanky body, frail and thin, felt fragile beneath Hinata's touch.
"Calm down, little one," Hinata murmured, her voice a soothing balm in the chaos. Green chakra, a manifestation of her own life force, pulsed from her hands, enveloping the girl's wounded arm. The blood receded, the raw scrape knitted itself back together, leaving behind a faint pink scar. The girl whimpered, clutching Hinata's hand as the last vestiges of pain subsided.
A guttural grunt erupted from the vendor, snapping Hinata's attention back to the escalating situation. He lumbered towards them, his face contorted in a mask of rage. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice thick with the stench of sake.
Before Hinata could react, he lunged for the girl, his meaty hand reaching out to rip her from Hinata's soft grasp.
Boruto, fueled by a surge of protective rage, let out a defiant screech "Don't talk to my mom in that tone!" With a surprising burst of agility, he leaped forward, aiming a kick at the vendor's torso. The burly man let out a derisive laugh, easily blocking the kick with a forearm.
With a brutal shove, he sent Boruto sprawling onto the cobblestones.
Hinata gasped and felt her heart drop, her maternal instincts screaming in protest. She scrambled towards Boruto, her own fear momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her son sprawled on the ground. Boruto winced, his hand instinctively flying to his back, a silent grimace twisting his features.
The reek of sake, acrid and cloying, wafted from the vendor as he loomed over Hinata, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Get lost, the lot of you! Uptight scum, causing trouble where it's not wanted!" Hinata was close enough to put her gentle palm on his shoulder to shove him away but the cloaked figure made the crowd's chattering stop.
Because his tirade was abruptly cut short as the tip of a gleaming silver sword nudged his chin. The man's eyes bulged, his menacing stance replaced by a sudden paralysis.
Hinata's hand was hovering protectively over Boruto, while she felt a surge of gratitude mingle with the lingering fear. The cloaked figure, his presence now radiating a quiet authority, silenced the chattering crowd with a single, purposeful movement. Just like old times. She reminisced.
The warm glow of the lanterns cast a distorted reflection on the polished surface of the drawn sword, the flickering light seeming to churn the vendor's gut even before he dared to steal a glance at the cloaked figure.
His bravado quickly dissipated, replaced by a frantic darting of his eyes as he stammered, "How dare you! Who are you?"
The figure remained silent for a moment, the weight of his presence hanging heavy in the air. Then, a single word, uttered in a voice that resonated with an icy authority, sliced through the tense silence.
"Uchiha Sasuke."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Murmurs of recognition and reverence erupted. 'Hokage from the Shadows', 'The Last Uchiha', 'The war hero'
Whispers of speculation swirled around the man's singular, exposed eye. 'Is this his Sharingan eye?' 'Madara's descendent' 'Naruto-sama's Bestfriend' 'He has the eye of the God' – and there were more comments which were spoken about, but Hinata had to tune out.
Because her initial suspicion had been proven right – the Uchiha Patriarch is back.
And he looked… changed. Stronger, Calmer, Composed and Dominating.
Hinata's eyes again fell on the towering and intimidating figure of the renowned Uchiha.
She was holding up Boruto, who suddenly was oblivious to the tension, tilted his head back, a spark of hero worship igniting in his cerulean eyes as he piped up, "Uchiha Sasuke? ... My Dad's rival?"
Hinata shot Boruto a worried look, her hand instinctively reaching out to steady his arm, preventing him from launching himself towards the enigmatic figure. "Boruto, let me check your back first."
Undeterred, Boruto pressed on, his youthful curiosity bubbling over. "You are my Dad's rival!" He tilted his head back further as he lunged to stand beside him, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he met Sasuke's gaze. Eyebrows raised up, intensifying his amused expression.
Uchiha-san's stance wavered away from the man under his scrutiny and his eyes scanned the jumpy presence of Boruto. A frown etched on his face; confusion reflected in his sole visible eye with confusion flickering on his pale and clear face.
Before Hinata could intervene and usher Boruto back, the vendor's reaction to Sasuke Uchiha's name sent a jolt of shock through both Boruto and the small girl. "Uchiha-sama," the man sputtered, his voice dropping to a groveling obsequiousness. "Forgive me. I had no intention of raising my voice against you." A simple mere presence of Uchiha-san made that disrespectful man give in, that easily.
Two ANBU materialised behind Sasuke like silent wraiths. Sasuke acknowledged their presence with a curt nod, then spoke in a voice devoid of emotion. "I don't want this man to set foot within any residence or shop in my district. Ensure he is punished for his crimes: treating a child as forced labour, assaulting a minor, misusing authority and verbally abusing both of them. You will find more charges upon investigation."
The ANBU bowed in silent assent, their black uniforms seeming to absorb the surrounding light. Sasuke didn't waste another breath on the vendor, his dismissive posture a stark contrast to the man's groveling pleas.
"Mom! He's so cool!" Boruto exclaimed, tugging excitedly on Hinata's sleeve as she brushed away dust from her skirt while getting off the ground.
Sasuke's eyes darted to the kid who had her head down, shoulders slumped and palms shaking and rubbing her arms, Hinata noticed the softening of his eye at the kid. "Rabbit, take the kid away. I believe she is from one of the orphanages."
Sasuke's voice was impassive so was his expression but the small girl, shoulders slumped and face streaked with tears, looked up hesitantly at Sasuke.
A fragile smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a flicker of gratitude battling the fear in her eyes. "Thank you, Uchiha-sama," she whispered, bowing politely before following the ANBU agent into the throng.
Sasuke responded with a curt nod, the only acknowledgement she received, but it was enough.
The solemn ANBU, his face obscured by a hound mask, dipped his head towards Hinata. "Hinata-sama, I should inform the Hokage of this incident." He addressed Hinata, who was bidding farewell to the kid being taken away by another ANBU.
"Hokage?" Sasuke asked, amused.
"Boruto Uzumaki," Hinata's boy declared, a self-assured smirk playing on his lips as he extended a hand towards Uchiha-san. The Uchiha scrutinised Boruto, his gaze sweeping the boy's features as if searching for any resemblance to his lifelong friend.
The undeniable echo of Naruto in Boruto's face should have been a glaring clue, Hinata thought with a silent chuckle.
"Since the Hokage's family was involved in an altercation," the ANBU continued, his voice devoid of inflection, "I am obligated to report it."
"There was no altercation," Hinata interjected, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "My son merely intervened on behalf of a civilian, as any aspiring shinobi of the Academy would. It was his duty as a shinobi." Her words drew the cloaked figure's attention, and after a moment's hesitation, he clasped Boruto's hand in a firm handshake.
The ANBU, his mission seemingly complete, melted back into the throng, a silent wraith dissolving into the vibrant chaos of the bustling streets.
Boruto scratched the back of his head, an impish grin tugging at his lips. "So... you beat up my old man, huh?"
Hinata felt a subtle shift in the air, a tightening in Sasuke's posture that hinted at the emotional turmoil simmering beneath the surface. He had only just returned after a near decade-long absence, and here he was, bombarded by questions about his complicated relationship with Naruto by an overenthusiastic child.
"Boruto," Hinata chided softly, placing a hand on his wrist in a gentle but firm gesture. "Please mind your manners and don't be a bother." She tugged him back slightly, her eyes flitting to Himawari. The younger child, usually brimming with calmer energy, had retreated behind Hinata's legs, a silent observer of the imposing figure before them.
"Welcome home, Uchiha-san," she murmured. Looking up to meet his cold yet dark gaze.
The wind rattled his bangs which were hiding his other prized possession; the Rinnegan, now visible as the soft breeze made his hair sway.
His eyes softened at her, as he recognized. The tension in his jaw visibly eased, and he inclined his head in a curt nod of acknowledgement.
Hinata stood for almost a minute, fumbling words were on the tip of her tongue but instead of tumbling out, they vanished.
Finally, she conceded defeat. The words wouldn't come. With a resolute sigh, Hinata tightened her grip on Boruto's hand. Himawari, ever attuned to her mother's emotions, mirrored the gesture, clinging tightly to Hinata's other leg.
Hinata realised that they were two people who were devoid of any history, hence, on his homecoming, Hinata didn't feel that they had anything to converse about. Hinata knew the man only through Naruto, Sakura and the whispers of Konoha - she had always tried to keep her judgements about him to minimal, for obvious reasons.
With silence from his end, Hinata realised that she was a stranger to him too in his eyes. So, without feeling any guilt of not building a conversation with her husband's best friend and Konoha's ex-nightmare and current hero, Hinata let the guilt ache no more in her chest.
They moved past him to leave the overpowering Shadow Hokage behind. The wind, redolent with the greasy tang of fried food and the sugary sweetness of candy floss, whipped around them. It tugged playfully at her long, indigo hair and his swishing cloak.
As Hinata was moving through the throng of the crowd, she could feel the slight weight of his gaze at her retreating back.
A/N:
LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THIS! AND WHAT DO YOU LIKE HERE?
I wanted all the characters to have canon personalities since it is set in Canon – Boruto Universe. In this chapter, my aim was to introduce you to every bond of the story.
Naruto & Sasuke, Naruto x Sakura, Sakura x Sasuke, Hinata x Naruto and finally Sasuhina!
I wanted all of these bonds to be shown here either in explicit manner or subtle one.
I didn't want Sasuhina first meeting to have lots of 'familiar emotions' since, as per Canon, they haven't interacted, so they are essentially strangers.