The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window was always something that comforted her, much like the breeze in wide-open spaces.
She considered herself a nature lover, though only during specific hours of the day—and this was not one of them.
A beam of light fell right across her face, forcing her to wake up reluctantly. Like every morning, Sarada rubbed her eyes and sat up, slowly pushing the sleep away.
She did a few stretches before getting up and grabbing her glasses from the nightstand, located right beside her side of the bed.
She shuffled out of the room, looking far from feminine. Dressed in pajamas, with her glasses resting atop her messy hair, she was truly a mess.
She intended to head to the bathroom to wash her face, but when she glanced toward the living room-kitchen area, something caught her off guard.
She blinked several times, unable to believe her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asked, approaching the blonde and peering over his shoulder.
Without bothering to turn around and look at his disheveled friend, Naruto replied:
"Making breakfast. That's what I'm doing."
He stepped away from the stove and went to the sink to grab a frying pan. He lit the burner and added a small amount of oil. Turning back toward the still-shocked Uchiha, he suppressed a faint smile, noticing the silly expression she wore upon seeing him cook something that wasn't ramen.
Not that he blamed her; anyone would have reacted the same way.
He approached her and gently nudged her away from the kitchen, leading her to the dining table, which was actually only a few meters from where he was cooking.
He had never owned a large or luxurious house, yet this place had been his home for as long as he could remember.
He heard the sound of the oil sizzling—a clear sign that it was hot enough.
"It'll be ready soon. Just wait a bit and go wash your face," he ordered, his tone bordering on that of a mother scolding her child.
Sarada's soft laughter was the only reply, as she found the situation amusing.
"What?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion, spreading his arms and looking down at himself, finding nothing strange about his appearance.
Stifling her laughter, Sarada pointed at him.
"The apron... it makes you look funny," she said, her laughter surfacing once more.
Naruto was instantly offended and turned away. The first person to ever mock his apron had been Ino, and since then, he had never allowed the Yamanaka girl back into his home again.
In short, the blonde was permanently banned.
It was a shame he couldn't do the same to his new friend, even though his pride in that garment had been mercilessly trampled. He decided to pay no more mind to Sarada's teasing.
He went back to his business in the kitchen. He wasn't the best chef, but he knew enough not to starve.
Ramen was always the easiest option—a real shame he couldn't serve her that. But he couldn't give her the same thing every day. Besides, he was trying to thank her for her gesture from the night before.
She watched him for a moment longer and, in a flash, went to wash her face before returning to her spot.
Seeing him cook was a rare sight in the recent months she had spent living with the future hero of the shinobi world.
Even though that was still years away.
Still, he would achieve it. She herself had witnessed his greatness during her journey as a Genin and, later, as a Chunin.
While she hadn't been able to see him in action for long, there was no doubt that this was the same person she had admired for so many years.
And by some strange twist of fate, in her father's final breath, she had been granted the opportunity to witness it all from the front row.
She had lost too much. Her only comfort was being able to stay by the side of the man she had always considered her role model.
He wasn't perfect; he was far from it. But that was precisely what drew her to him the most—what made her want to stay by his side.
Shaking off her thoughts, she saw him approaching with two plates in his hands and a smile spread across his face.
He set the ceramic dishes on the table, and that same smile reflected in his features as he watched her lean in to take a long, deep breath of the aroma.
He took off his apron and draped it over the back of the chair before sitting down across from her.
They both ate in silence. When Sarada took the first bite, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she should give him a bit more freedom in the kitchen. It wasn't excellent, but it was good.
Of course, she only thought it. She still trusted her own cooking much more; nothing personal—she just had more experience in avoiding the excessive use of oil.
The casual chat that followed relaxed her immensely. She had been afraid that, well... Naruto would feel like absolute crap.
That was how a person felt after losing someone dear. She knew that feeling first-hand.
After finishing their drinks (a simple juice she hadn't bought herself and that her mother had likely brought over the night before), she looked up to observe him.
"How are you feeling?" she asked suddenly.
Naruto looked up from his empty plate, eyes wide, a piece of toast still between his lips.
"How am I what?"
Her dark eyes darted to the side, avoiding his direct gaze.
"Oh..." it clicked for him. "I'm better than I was a few days ago, I guess. That first night, I ran into Iruka-sensei." He didn't offer any more details. "Yesterday Shikamaru came by and forced me to get some sun." He shrugged.
She nodded understandingly, though something still unsettled her.
"So..." she hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to invade his privacy; maybe he didn't trust her enough yet. Still, she treaded carefully. "Where did you go last night? You came back at... I don't know, two in the morning." She adjusted her glasses, hiding her expression from him.
"I was worried about you."
For a moment, she thought he would laugh out loud at how exaggerated she was being and tell her it wasn't necessary, but he didn't. Paying close attention, she watched him calmly sip some juice.
He looked away, a faint smile playing under his whiskers as he let out a soft:
"Thanks."
Then he looked her straight in the eye.
"There's something I want to tell you. I know I can trust you, but it's an S-rank secret," he whispered, trying to put on a serious face.
Her heart skipped a beat at hearing him say he trusted her, causing a smile to tug at her lips.
Setting that aside, she waited for him to continue.
Naruto glanced around in every direction, making sure no one was eavesdropping—a gesture that Sarada found somewhat amusing.
"I've been working on a mission with the cryptoanalysis team and Shikamaru," he added at the end, with total simplicity.
She nodded and returned his smile. He could be a bit of a show-off sometimes, but never in a grating way like others; it was almost always unconscious.
-
Naruto walked with slow, deliberate steps through the now-familiar streets of Konoha. He didn't want to rush to his destination. In truth, he didn't want to go at all.
That place was the Konoha Library.
After saying goodbye to Sarada moments earlier, he chose to slow his pace even further. He was going to spend several hours cooped up there with his teammates anyway, searching for a way to crack the code the Pervy Sage had left behind after his death.
He found it incredibly difficult to accept that his old man was truly gone. The fact that Jiraiya wouldn't be there to see him achieve his dream of becoming Hokage hurt more than he cared to admit.
But the worst part was the helplessness: knowing that even if he had been by his side, Jiraiya would have died just the same. He was frustrated, angry… and felt many other things he couldn't even fully comprehend.
Because of his own weakness, the very thought of revenge seemed miles away. He didn't have the strength, let alone the skill required.
Pain had proven himself to be someone to fear, simply by possessing the power to kill a Sannin.
In retrospect, Naruto felt like nothing more than a small fish in a vast sea full of sharks. At least, that was how he saw himself every time he thought about facing Akatsuki.
He would die if he went alone. And he couldn't ask his friends to accompany him to a certain death. That was what it meant to face the leader of the organization.
His pace remained steady, as if he were on autopilot.
A vague memory of Jiraiya crossed his mind—a conversation they'd had outside a temple during their training journey. Although the memory was hazy, he knew that on that day, he had made a promise to his master.
Jiraiya had entrusted him with something… but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what it was.
As he walked through the commercial district, he didn't notice the stares people were giving him. This time, there was no coldness or condescension, as there used to be.
The news had spread like wildfire. Everyone knew the legendary Toad Sage; sooner or later, they would hear of his passing.
This caused many to feel pity for his only student from the very moment they learned what had happened.
A couple of women watched him pass and whispered among themselves. Their words were not laced with malice.
The Uzumaki stopped in front of a nearby stall.
There was a musician playing an acoustic instrument, his melody swaying between a melancholy tune and a faster, more upbeat rhythm. A small crowd surrounded him, and when he finished, Naruto was the first to applaud.
As he resumed his walk, he glanced at a fruit stand overflowing with apples and other fresh produce.
The owner saw him and tossed him an apple, which Naruto caught mid-air by reflex.
Confused, he looked at the man. The shopkeeper simply smiled and waved his hand, brushing off the gesture as if the gift were nothing.
Naruto responded with a thumbs-up and continued on his way, taking a bite of the fruit.