WARNING: Discussions of violence and suicide ahead. This chapter features some unpacking of the attack on Sarada/Sasuke and the motives behind it, so it ventures into dark territory. If you'd rather not get into that, feel free to PM me and I can send you a summary of what happens instead.

Also, the usual warning about my lack of knowledge: I'm pretty sure what I describe below is decidedly not the way a police investigation of this nature would really be handled, or what a police case file really consists of. As always, I'll have to call on your generous suspension of disbelief. That's what (fan)fiction is for, right?

Much love to you all for your patience with my slow updates. Thank you kindly for all your support!

CHAPTER 12

Sarada woke up gradually, content to stay curled up safe and warm as consciousness filtered back in. When she finally gathered the will to open her eyes, she found her field of vision filled with a burst of sunny yellow that made her blink in surprise. As all her senses returned, she identified the yellow as Boruto's unmistakable hair, its spikes grazing her pillow as he slept, slumped over next to the bed with his head and arms resting on the sheets next to her.

Her gaze lowered to find his right hand gently clasped around hers even in slumber. That brought the memories of last night rushing back: waking up alone and afraid, and Boruto next to her reassuring her that she was okay, then offering to stay with her. Feeling like she wanted him, needed him there so badly that she couldn't have turned him down if her life depended on it. She grimaced a little in embarrassment. Even though she knew it had been a normal reaction to what she'd just been through, and she was sure Boruto wouldn't hold it against her, in the soothing daylight it seemed a bit silly and childish now, putting him through that because a nightmare had scared her.

But those feelings didn't outweigh the relief and appreciation she felt for the fact that he'd been there, ready to chase away her demons.

Very slowly and carefully, she slid her hand from his lax grip and sat up, pausing for a moment just to watch him, the way his hunched-over shoulders rose and fell to the steady rhythm of his breathing. That couldn't be a very comfortable position to sleep in, but he'd endured it all night for her.

On a fond impulse, she leaned down and softly kissed the part of his forehead that was accessible from this angle, right near his hairline, her lips momentarily tickled by a few silky blond strands. She then drew back promptly, watching him for signs of wakefulness, but he continued to sleep soundly. This whole ordeal had affected him too; he must have been almost as exhausted as she was.

Deciding not to disturb him, she climbed lithely off the bed, stopping to scoop her glasses off his desk before silently exiting the room, shutting the door behind her. After a quick stop in the bathroom to wash up, she ventured into the kitchen, where she found Mitsuki already up and about, pouring some batter into a pan on the stove and sporting a rather adorable bedhead.

"Good morning, Sarada," he said pleasantly. "Would you like some pancakes?"

He must have noticed that Boruto wasn't on the couch, but if he had any questions about where his roommate had spent the night instead, he kept them to himself. She tried to express her appreciation for his discretion with a smile. "Thanks, that sounds great."

Sarada did want to go change into her own clothes and check on her father in the hospital again as soon as possible, and the small part of her that was a complete coward wanted to escape the apartment before Boruto woke up, but she was honestly starving and the pancakes smelled wonderful.

They turned out to taste even better. When she complimented him, Mitsuki accepted the praise with a nod and the comment that "Boruto says those are my two specialties: snakes and pancakes."

"And I suppose he finds it endlessly amusing that the two words even rhyme?" she replied, more affectionately than condescendingly.

"You know him well," Mitsuki observed, drizzling maple syrup on his own pancakes.

Sarada smiled slightly, but the innocent words sent a pang through her chest. No longer being Boruto's pretend girlfriend didn't mean that she could no longer know him well, but she would no longer know him in quite the same unique way.

"We broke up," she blurted out, so suddenly she startled even herself.

Mitsuki paused for a moment with his fork halfway to his mouth, then resumed eating as normal. "I wasn't aware you had started truly dating."

"We didn't," she hastened to assure him. "I meant, we fake-broke up. Of course it's fake; it's always been fake. We fake-dated and now we've fake-broken up."

"That was a lot of 'fakes,'" he noted placidly.

Something about his too-casual tone made her look up at him suspiciously. Somehow, it felt like he was subtly accusing her of something. "What are you trying to say?"

"What are you trying to say?" He turned the question back on her, still as calm as ever, his golden gaze fixed on her intently.

"I'm trying to say just what I said," she retorted bluntly, resisting the urge to squirm. There was no reason to squirm; this was just a breakfast conversation, not an interrogation. "I'm just giving you the news."

"I see." Mitsuki looked down at his fork and licked some syrup off it. His pink tongue darting out like that reminded her briefly but strongly of the snake from last night. "Thank you for the report."

She just stared across the table at him for a few moments, feeling unsettled but unable to pinpoint quite why. "I think I'm finally beginning to see why Boruto finds you so frustrating at times."

An instant later she felt ashamed of the unkind statement; Mitsuki had been nothing but a good friend to her through everything, and he'd even made her pancakes this morning. "Sorry, that was uncalled for," she quickly apologized. "I'm a bit on edge after everything that's happened recently."

But Mitsuki just smiled at her, graciously amused. "No, I believe you're right, I am frustrating at times. And I'm sorry too—this was the wrong time to poke at sensitive areas. For what it's worth, it's been a privilege to watch your and Boruto's partnership develop, and I have faith in it. Whatever decision you two made, I'm sure it will work itself out."

Sarada found that it was worth quite a lot, actually. Mitsuki had played his own not insignificant role in her and Boruto's relationship, and she trusted his judgment and felt reassured to have his continued support. His talents definitely went well beyond just snakes and pancakes.

"Thank you, Mitsuki," she said sincerely, but she couldn't dig back into her breakfast with quite the same gusto as before. He might have faith in her recent decision-making, and she appreciated that, but she wasn't sure she shared it.

Sasuke's first stop when he was released from the hospital, against Sakura's vigorous protests, was the police station. She had tried to insist that she at least accompany him there, but even that he had refused; not out of pride or protective instincts, although both of those ran deep in him, but more out of a kind of personal shame. He had a definite dark side, one that Sakura was all too aware of by now, but he still preferred to limit her exposure to it, and nothing was more likely to bring it raging to the surface than a threat to his family. Even though he knew that Sakura had accepted that vile, vengeful part of him long ago, he still hated the way it made her look at him—not with anger or fear but with sadness, and above all with a forgiveness that made him feel lower and dirtier than the ground beneath her feet.

Part of the reason he'd always kept a certain distance between him and Sarada was his worry that his darkness might somehow rub off on her. In a twisted way he was proud of his well-deserved reputation as someone who would take pleasure in destroying you if you crossed him, but sometimes it also sickened him, and it wasn't the image he wanted to pass on to his daughter, his greatest legacy.

He did, however, want to ensure that that legacy was protected, which was the main reason he was here today. If he wanted to make sure that Sarada was never put at risk like this again, he had to understand how it had happened.

As he walked into the police station, hating the stiff, slow way he was forced to move to accommodate his injury—telegraphing his weakness all over the place—a familiar broad-shouldered man straightened from where he was leaning over a desk peering at something on a colleague's computer screen.

"Hey, Sasuke. How's it going?" Officer Kiba Inuzuka lifted his hand in a lazy wave. The assault on the Uchihas had been an open-and-shut case with multiple witnesses and was technically closed, but as a former classmate of Sasuke's, Kiba had agreed to this special follow-up meeting as a personal favour. Sasuke knew from the policemen who'd visited him earlier in the hospital that the attacker had been a disgruntled former employee who'd been fired from the Uchiha Corporation several months ago, but he was determined to get the details.

"Fine," Sasuke bit out shortly, not interested in exchanging meaningless pleasantries.

"Yeah, stupid question, seeing as you just got stabbed," Kiba observed with a rough chuckle. He'd never exactly been known for his sensitivity; Sasuke guessed that he usually wasn't the one tasked with speaking to recent victims. But the painfully direct truth was precisely what the Uchiha wanted right now, so he wasn't complaining.

"What can you tell me?" He cut through the formalities as Kiba guided him into an empty office.

The officer rummaged through a filing cabinet in the corner, coming up with a folder that he slid across the desk. "It's all in there."

Sasuke flicked open the folder and was immediately assaulted with unpleasant memories as he came face-to-face with a mugshot of the man he remembered lunging at him with a knife. For a moment he almost slammed the folder shut again, but he fiercely held onto his self-control and stared down at the face until he could think straight again.

"Toshio Kimura," Kiba announced, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. Sasuke was familiar with the name; the police had already given him that much. "Late forties. For about three years he was an employee of yours, a data entry clerk. Not a very good employee, by all accounts; he missed a lot of days, had some angry outbursts at colleagues, generally gave a sub-par performance, and got worse over time. Anyway, last winter he finally missed one day too many and his supervisor got your approval to fire him. He was pissed about it; he actually tried to get in to see you personally a couple of times to complain, but security always tossed him out first."

Sasuke listened intently as he scanned the personal information on the page before him, but honestly, he remembered none of this. The Uchiha Corporation was large and attracted a lot of attention, some of it negative, and a lot of people disliked both the company and him personally. Someone storming in with a complaint and having to be thrown out wasn't a daily occurrence, but it wasn't that uncommon either, and Sasuke had gotten used to taking little notice of it.

"I have plenty of disgruntled former employees," he stated bluntly. "I want to know why this one tried to kill me."

Kiba hesitated, then said more slowly, "Well, actually, it's pretty clear that he didn't set out to kill you."

Sasuke's head snapped up, and he couldn't keep his spine from stiffening even though it tugged painfully at his still-healing wound. "Sarada."

Of course. As he was the only one who'd been injured, he'd been somewhat able to gloss over the heart-stopping memory of Kimura going for his daughter first. He still couldn't remember what exactly the man had said to them to justify it, but Sarada had definitely been the initial target.

"Yeah. So, turns out Kimura was a father too. He had a daughter, a little younger than yours, still in high school. She was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer a little before he started working for you, and the job and the insurance it came with was a big help with paying the medical bills. When he lost the job, he lost all that, and without good references he had trouble finding a new one. He couldn't afford the same level of care for her as before, and about a month ago—"

"She died," Sasuke said flatly, his eyes skipping ahead to the dates listed under Kimura's family members' names.

"If it makes you feel better," Kiba said gruffly, "even though Kimura was in denial about it, we talked to some other relatives and they told us her time was pretty much up no matter what. Maybe with cutting-edge treatment they could've prolonged her life for a couple more months, but there wasn't going to be a cure beyond that."

Sasuke said nothing. In recent years, it had become common for him to go a couple of months without even hearing Sarada's voice. A couple of months suddenly seemed considerably longer than he'd thought.

Shifting in his chair, Kiba continued. "Anyway, on top of that, his wife passed away in a single-vehicle crash just a week or so after that. Officially ruled an accident in the end, but there was some speculation that she might have crashed on purpose. No way of knowing for sure, but Kimura blamed you for that too during his interrogation."

A heavy silence hung over the room, until Kiba exhaled gustily and stood. "Well, that's all I've got for you. I've gotta get back to work. You can spend a little more time with the file if you want, just make sure you find me and give it back before you leave the station. See you around, Sasuke. Hope you heal up fast."

The sound of him opening the door jolted Sasuke out of his grim reflections, and he began sharply, "Wait, Kiba. I want to—"

"See the guy?" Kiba interrupted, correctly predicting his request. "What do you think I am, high or something? No way. Showing you the case file I can get away with; letting you in to murder the suspect, not so much. Sit here until you calm down, get that psycho look out of your eyes, then go home to your wife and kid and put this behind you. That's all you need to do, Sasuke. And maybe right now that seems harder than murdering Kimura, but well, you're just going to have to suck it up."

Before Sasuke could argue his case further, the officer stepped promptly out of the room and shut the door. Thwarted, Sasuke scowled down at the file, though honestly he hadn't really expected Kiba to grant him access to Kimura. He did resent the comment about his "psycho" look and the implication that he would just instantly murder the man, though.

Murder. That was what Toshio Kimura had been willing to do in the name of vengeance for his family. Sasuke imagined he himself probably was capable of the same thing, given the right provocation. And Sarada definitely qualified as a top candidate for the right provocation.

It was disgusting to think of harming an innocent young woman for any reason, and the fact that the young woman in this case had been Sarada filled Sasuke with a bone-deep loathing for Kimura that he would no doubt harbour all his days. But, although he hated to admit it, there was a sliver of comprehension in him too. If Sarada and Sakura were ever torn from him like that, he'd be an entirely different man, and that man probably wouldn't be sane. He'd want someone to blame, and if he found someone who fit the bill, he'd be willing to pay a high price to see them suffer horribly.

He flipped slowly through the folder before him, pausing again on the dates. 1972-2018, for Kimura's wife. 2002-2018, for his daughter. A few pages later, Sarada Uchiha in the same businesslike black print, and just below, 1997- . He ran a finger gently over the few millimetres of empty whiteness that came after the hyphen. A blank space had never held so much meaning before.

Sarada still had so much blank space stretching ahead of her. Suddenly, how exactly she chose to fill that space didn't seem that important anymore, just as long as she had it.

Naruto knew something was seriously up when Boruto got into his car without so much as a disparaging remark about how blindingly orange it was. He didn't exactly enjoy fighting with his son, but there was something reassuringly routine about it by this point. There was nothing routine about him showing up to drive Boruto home after work and Boruto accepting the ride just like that.

To tell the truth, Boruto hadn't been himself since the attack on the Uchihas. At first Naruto had attributed it to the shock of coming close to losing someone he cared about, but it had been long enough now since the incident that he was beginning to suspect there was more going on. And since one of the few ways he could get his son to actually sit down and talk with him these days was by trapping him in a moving vehicle, here they were.

"So," the elder Uzumaki ventured, "I took the night off, and I was thinking we could go grab dinner at Ichiraku's. What do you say?"

He steeled himself, bracing for an outright "no," but Boruto just said snidely, "How about somewhere that's not Ichiraku's for once?"

Not a flat refusal, at least—Naruto could work with that. "Are you just saying that because you went to Ichiraku's with Sarada? I'm speaking from experience when I say that you can't let memories of an Uchiha taint your love for amazing ramen," he said solemnly. "It's not worth it."

"Hey, I didn't say anything about her," Boruto snapped a little too defensively, adding with disgust, "And don't compare what's between me and Sarada to whatever twisted relationship you have with her dad. No matter what happens, we'll never be as messed up as you guys are."

Naruto had to admit, the comparison was a little disturbing now that he thought about it. "Well, anyway, what is between you and Sarada these days?"

Boruto shook his head and turned away to stare out the window. "We're not doing this right now."

"Doing what?" Naruto asked innocently.

"Dad, even if I wanted advice on women, which I don't, you wouldn't be the person I'd ask."

"Why not?" Naruto was genuinely a bit hurt. "I've been married for over twenty years. I'd say I've been about as successful with women as anyone could hope to be. Or with a woman, at least, and only one matters when it's the right one."

His son shot him a skeptical sideways glance, but seemed to be considering the point. "Okay, fine. If you're such an expert, then how would you say a person is supposed to know when they've found the right one?"

Naruto was suddenly reminded of why he usually let Hinata field the delicate relationship questions. "Uh...well...it depends."

Boruto gave him a look of blistering scorn. "Right. Great talk, Dad."

"Wait, wait, wait. C'mon, let me finish. I mean, I'm sure it depends on the person. But if you ask me, it's when you look at your life, what matters to you, all your priorities, and you realize that she comes first. Money, all the things you're scared of, what other people think...you can set it all aside if you have to, for her. Because what she wants and needs becomes what you want and need, too."

The younger Uzumaki was silent for a few moments, then asked accusingly, "If that's really what you believe, then why does it seem like you've been putting your job first for practically as long as I can remember?"

His son was nothing if not like him—emotionally blunt and confrontational. Naruto flinched internally but tried to answer the question as fully as he could.

"You know, when your mom and I decided we wanted to start a family, we talked about how we were going to handle it, with our careers and all that—we talked about it a lot. And part of what she told me she wanted was for me to keep growing the company, to have the success that I'd worked for, even if that meant she had to make some sacrifices—because that's the kind of amazing, loving person she is. So give your mom some credit. Just because she's a quiet and thoughtful person doesn't mean she can't make her voice heard when she wants to. She wouldn't let the decisions in our relationship be as one-sided as you might think they are. But," he added with a sigh, "I'm not trying to make excuses here, or claim that I haven't made mistakes. Sometimes the best things in your life are the easiest things to start taking for granted. And sometimes, if you're really lucky, the people you love forgive you for doing that to them, and let you make it up to them."

He took a deep breath, glad to have that off his chest even if it was followed by a tense silence. Finally Boruto broke it with, "So is that what you're trying to do now with these attempts at father-son heart-to-hearts? Make it up to me?"

Naruto's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Are you going to let me?" He was usually quite skilled at covering up uncertainty with an air of brash confidence, but the question came out sounding every bit as hesitant as it felt.

At least he had his son's complete, undisguised attention now. No longer gazing disinterestedly out the window, Boruto was fully turned toward him, big blue eyes searching his face for proof of sincerity. "I'll think about it," he said quietly.

Naruto felt the the balloon of tension inside his chest slowly and satisfyingly deflate. "I'll think about it" was more progress than he'd made with Boruto in years.

"So," he began, daring to push just a little further, "does that mean you'll tell me a bit about what's up with you and Sarada?"

Boruto's expression went from somewhat sullen and suspicious to downright depressed. The sight made Naruto's heart clench and his temper rear up protectively, but he resisted the urge to jump right into the "don't let some high-and-mighty Uchiha get you down" speech that hovered on the tip of his tongue.

"Maybe I would, if I even knew what was up with me and Sarada right now," Boruto muttered.

"Well, here's what I know," Naruto said boldly. "I know how you guys looked together at the Gala. I know how you looked at her in the hospital. I know you haven't been the same since she almost got hurt. You've been moping around, mourning something even though nobody died, denying that it's anything to do with her like you might be able to make yourself believe it. I know you won't be able to, because that's not who you are. I don't know if you guys broke up, but I've seen you after other breakups, and you've always bounced back fast. This time, you're not bouncing back. I know it's bad, because you don't even have the will to argue with me properly."

Naruto waited for a scoff or an angry denial, but when Boruto remained silent with eyes downcast, he knew he was right about everything. And he knew he was going to have to do what he'd dreaded doing. He was going to have to give Boruto a push in a direction he'd hoped his son would never take.

"Look, Boruto...I know I haven't been the perfect dad, but I can promise you that I'm not going to be one of those parents who stand in the way of their kid's happiness out of some sense of pride or whatever. If Sarada makes you happy and she's who you really want, then...then I think she's who you should get. Or at least who you should go after. You can't make her choose you, but you can offer her everything you are, and prove to her that you mean it."

To his surprise, the words weren't as difficult to say as he'd expected. They smarted a bit, to be sure, but also brought with them that familiar rush of lightness he felt whenever he finally gave in to the right choice after a violent internal struggle.

"Whoa. Wait." Boruto was gaping at him, incredulous. "Did you seriously just say you're giving me your...blessing to date Sarada? But she's—she's Sasuke Uchiha's daughter."

"Don't remind me," Naruto grumbled under his breath. But he'd already come this far, so he cleared his throat and went on with brisk resignation, "Well, that sucks, it really does, but it's not her fault. I guess I can't say I know that much about Sarada herself, other than the fact that she's a good student and she can take down a man who comes at her with a knife. Those aren't bad qualities to start with, even if she is an Uchiha. Besides—how I feel about her isn't the most important thing here."

"And what is?"

"How you feel about her," Naruto stated matter-of-factly. "Even if you don't tell me how exactly that is, well, you don't have to, because it's honestly pretty obvious."

Boruto opened and closed his mouth a few times, lost for words. Brow furrowed in deep thought, he shifted restlessly in his seat before leaning back to stare aimlessly through the windshield. Then he suddenly sat forward, frowning.

"Dad?"

"Yup?" Naruto tried to mentally prepare himself for another deep, soul-searching question.

"We definitely passed this street before. Have you been driving in circles or something?"

Indeed he had been, operating the car on autopilot with most of his concentration on their conversation. "Uh, maybe," Naruto said sheepishly. "You turned down Ichiraku's and we never decided on another place to go, so…"

Boruto snorted. "Every time I start to think for one second that you might be kind of cool, you just have to turn around and ruin it right away, don't you?"

Naruto did his best to put on a mock scowl, but it was soon eclipsed by a classic Uzumaki grin. He'd trade centuries of hero worship from thousands of admirers for a single second of being "kind of cool" in his son's eyes any day.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't reward you after such a long wait with more Boruto/Sarada interaction, but there was a bit of other business to take care of first. Just one more much-needed father-daughter talk to go, and then it's back to the main event! I'm looking forward to it too, believe me :)

I say this every time because it deserves to be said every time: thank you all so much for reading and especially for reviewing! Your support truly inspires me.