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like radiance of the fireflies

Rorudesu-chan

Sarada walked up to that Boruto kid today, right after class, and practically told him that she feels the same way.

"Isn't it annoying how your dad and my dad happen to be the village's most powerful ninjas, but they rarely, if ever, spend quality time with us?" was actually what Sarada meant to say. But the Uchiha kid chose to be more 'intimate' with her approach, hoping he'd recognize a kindred spirit in her.

Unfortunately in boy-language, Sarada's intentions were taken as cootie code for, I love you so much I want to kiss you, let's get married and have lots of babies!

Boruto refused her haughtily after turning green over the thought of liking a girl—liking Uchiha Sarada. He said he'd rather paint the town red, quite literally. This led Sarada to chide herself for ever considering the Seventh's son an ally. Pfft, who needs his sympathy anyway? Uzumaki Boruto wouldn't even realize he has daddy issues if it hit him in the face. So she let him do his own thing, while she walks herself home, contemplating the day's events.

She finds that she is smart for her age. Too smart, actually, for her own good that she learned to tell if her mama is lying and whenever her papa is about to say, I'm leaving again soon.

But Sarada hates the whispers the most. They follow her around—in the playground, in the classroom, at the library, and even in the nursery ward where she would usually hang out with the nurses while waiting for her mama to finish her afternoon shift at the hospital.

One night, as the story goes, an evil man came and killed her grandparents, including her aunts and uncles and cousins. Her papa was still a little boy then and was unable to fight back. Her papa was all alone and he grew up wanting to be strong and powerful so he could take revenge. He fought with his friends, betrayed Konoha. He decided to kill anyone who got in his way. It even came to the point when he tried to take over the world.

But before it was too late, her papa realized all the bad things he's done. He told everyone he was sorry and he promised to do good from thereon.

Sarada was nearly convinced with that tale. The events in the story fit perfectly into her life like pieces of a puzzle—except they don't. And they never will.

There was no evil man. The members of the Uchiha clan died out slowly, one by one, because of a terrible disease, though she has yet to ask her papa why they were the only ones infected and not the rest of the village. Her papa was lucky enough not to be in Konoha at that time. He was learning to become a ninja in another country. That explains why he travels so very often.

Her papa would be gone for weeks, usually months. But he would always come home.

When she's with her papa and mama, Sarada gets this warm, fuzzy feeling inside of her and she wants them both in her arms. But she's still small, her arms are far too short to contain them both in one place.

Sarada turns at the corner of the street where it's just three more houses away from her own. Today, she doesn't feel like calling out a tadaima. Papa's not back yet, and mama probably isn't done with her shift at the hospital. An hour later she will spend a quiet dinner with her. Mostly because she won't feel like talking tonight. She's doing great at school. But as much as she's interested in watching her mama's lovely emerald eyes flicker in excitement upon learning that her daughter aced her Bunshin test, Sarada would rather see her papa's reaction when she tells him that the Hokage's son pulled off an Oiroke no Jutsu instead. (The consequences of which made their instructor lose heaps of blood through the nose and gave Boruto a nasty failing mark.)

Sarada opens the front door and does not expect to be greeted by anyone. She's about to settle into the silence of the house when she hears a small noise coming from the kitchen. Sarada draws out her kunai. On light, quick feet, she makes her way.

Sarada presses an ear against the wall and hears the shifting of feet, heavy breathing, and the clanking of utensils and plates like they've been pushed aside. There just might be a killer on the other side of the wall. But it's too late for her to call for help. She'll have to take matters into her own hands. Sarada thinks of her father when she barges into the kitchen; he'll be so proud of her.

"SHANNARO!" she screams. But her fingers suddenly lose their strength and she drops her weapon on the floor. "Papa?"

Her father, Uchiha Sasuke, turns around to greet his daughter as he straightens his shirt. Sakura slides off the counter and pulls down her skirt. She runs a hand through her pink locks, clips her fringe neatly into place.

Sasuke bends down to Sarada's height. He smiles, "When did you get home?"

"Now, just now," replies Sarada. She's trembling a bit, and she hopes it doesn't show. "When did you get home, papa?"

"Around lunch time."

Sarada looks to Sakura for confirmation. Her mother's cheeks are slightly flushed and she's flashing her daughter a really big smile. Sarada thinks, it's because papa's home.

"Papa, I missed you so much!" Sarada doesn't hold back any longer. She locks her father in an embrace and soon, the floor underneath her disappears.

Sasuke lifts her in his arms, "I'm glad to see you too, Sarada."

The rest of the evening goes wonderfully with her cradled in papa's arms and mama sitting right next to them on the porch. The night is peaceful and fireflies prance around the garden. The radiance of the fireflies isn't as bright like sunshine, but it's enough to light a small path.

The family conversations were going well until Sarada herself makes the mistake of bringing up the tale of the Uchiha clan.

"They say you killed the man who destroyed your family, papa," Sarada says. "Is it true?"

Next to them, Sakura stiffens in place. She gives casual glances to her husband, but says nothing. Sarada embraces Sasuke a little tighter. Papa doesn't have to answer if he doesn't want to. She knows it's not true—none of it is. But Sarada can't ignore the stories anymore. She isn't convinced, but she wants to hear the truth from protagonist of the tale himself.

Sasuke seems as relaxed as ever. But Sarada hears something. She hears her papa's heart hammering in his chest.

She goes to bed that night, unable to quench her growing curiosity. She sleeps for a few hours, but wakes up to familiar voices resonating from below. Papa and mama are still at the porch. Sarada wasn't expecting that they'd stay up this late.

She steps out of her room and goes as far as sitting on the bottom steps of the stairs where she's able to catch fragments of her parents' conversation.

"…for her own good."

That is papa's voice, low and deep, and ever resolute.

"How long… not about you!... daughter deserves…"

That is mama's voice, caring and concerned to the point of rebuke.

Sarada doesn't stay longer; she goes back to her room with thoughts of school for the next day.

When Sasuke breaks the news that he's leaving again soon, she's already figured it out before he could apologize for it over breakfast. Sarada bids her papa goodbye and she doesn't give him a chance to explain himself. She makes her way to the Academy, consoles herself over the fact that whatever happens, mama will always be honest with her, and papa… well, papa does his best to be home.

It's recess time when she finds solace on the swing just outside the Academy. Sarada muses over the thought of the swing's previous occupant (a tale she managed to pick up from all that village gossip). A lonely boy once sat in that swing. He had no friends because the other children were afraid of him, afraid of what he truly was.

But he didn't let any of the people's judgments destroy him. He was able to fight his way through the obstacles because he found that one person who acknowledged him.

Oy! Uchiha Sarada!

Sarada looks up. An annoyed look crosses her face when she finds out who the perpetrator is.

"What do you want, Boruto?" she spits.

The Uzumaki boy stretches out his arm. His fingers grip around a wall brush, dried red paint coating its bristles. "Your turn," he says, bright blue eyes filled with mischief.

Sarada takes a few seconds to calculate the boy's intentions.

"Well?! Are you going to help me paint the Hokage's office or not?"

Sarada touches the rim of her glasses and calmly replies, "Not in a million years, Boruto. If this is your idea of saying sorry for yesterday, forget it. I'm not taking part in your stupid pranks."

"Fine. Be like the rest of 'em! See if I care."

Boruto walks away defeated, clutching onto his wall brush tighter. He mumbles to himself and Sarada catches something like, trying to be nice.

There is this one person whom Sarada thinks she can relate to. But that boy, that bratty, so-called son of the Seventh Hokage, is too busy to even care. Too ignorant, in fact. He won't realize how much they have in common even if she walked up to him and asked him if he could play with her because their dads are always too busy for them.

Or maybe they don't have anything in common and it's all in her head.

Boruto is the son of the Seventh, the once lonely boy who sat in the swing she's now enthroned herself on. His dad is the Hokage. Hers is just a man with a past.

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author's note: Paid a subtle tribute to the NaruSasu bromance here. I hope you saw it. Thoughts on this one-shot? :)