"They possessed one extraordinary quality: at a distance, they could sense the nature and form of things, much like a magnet detects the presence of another magnet. They developed this ability during their lives in the dark caves of tropical forests."
© Aleksey Tolstoy
Sarada lay on the sofa in the living room, her gaze wandering over the lines of the magazine without grasping their meaning. The medics had prescribed bed rest and allowed only rare light walks in the fresh air, but such idleness didn't suit Sarada. Her genjutsu and chakra control skills might have survived the new wave intact, but her taijutsu had reverted to its previous level. Her body wouldn't keep up with the Sharingan again.
Damn. A year of work down the drain!
Frustration and rage. For the first time, she understood what Boruto felt when his console game crashed without saving, rolling back several levels. Back then, Sarada had just snorted disdainfully, but fate had played a cruel joke on her.
She still didn't know what to do with her life. Her old ideals were shattered, her dreams turned to dust. But one thing was clear: she wouldn't tolerate her own weakness.
"I know your level. You wouldn't beat an Anbu member."
She never overestimated her abilities, and Shisui was right, but the way he said it made Sarada feel vulnerable.
Hurry up with training...
At least because during training, she could clear her head of all that garbage, but in the quiet apartment, intrusive thoughts crept in.
She kept thinking about Shisui's words, about the emptiness still devouring her soul, and about her new power—the power of the Mangekyo Sharingan. Shisui had strictly forbidden Sarada from using the Mangekyo, but in principle, figuring out its techniques intrigued her.
Shisui had given it a name—Kanren—and said it was somewhat like Itachi's Amaterasu. Uncle also possessed the Mangekyo. Such a level of Sharingan had been awakened by only a handful in clan history, and now among the surviving Uchiha, three had it: her, Itachi, and Shisui.
According to Shisui, Itachi wielded two techniques: the supreme genjutsu Tsukuyomi, which created a world entirely under the user's control, and the black flames of Amaterasu.
Amaterasu... Dad's technique. So Itachi had it too?
After the tragedy, she couldn't bring herself to call Itachi "uncle." From the closest person in the world, he'd become a terrifying memory with mad red eyes and a tear-streaked face. Shisui said Itachi had left the village. But the thought of him wandering somewhere in the world filled her with dread. Sarada was terrified of meeting Itachi. Him and the man in the orange mask who had no body.
"I'm not strong in such things, you know—it's just my guesses. But clearly, Amaterasu channels chakra to the point the user's gaze focuses on and transforms that chakra into some form of energy. I'd say thermal, but I'm not entirely sure, since it doesn't resemble normal fire. Your technique seems to do the same, just with a different chakra transformation on output," Shisui had said.
Sarada hadn't even suspected such a thing was possible.
"But what about that strange sensation?" she'd asked. "It was like I was probing his body from the inside with my gaze. Does... Itachi do that too?"
"Only Itachi himself can answer that. But you know, that's why I suggested naming your Mangekyo technique 'Kanren.' Connection, unity with the object the gaze touches—that's its essence."
Advice was advice, prohibitions were prohibitions, but the only thing that would stop Sarada from succumbing to the temptation to use the Mangekyo again was the excruciating pain in her eyes. That terrified her. And the prospect of blindness... But she couldn't stop thinking about her new technique. When she imagined its possibilities and combat applications, her emptied soul flooded with excitement.
Weakness... Greed... Stupidity... Cowardice... What doomed the Uchiha. Shisui-san thinks too highly of me—I'm weak and not particularly smart. Weakness fuels greed—the thirst for power. I want to use the Mangekyo again, if not on someone, then at least out of curiosity, and only cowardice holds me back. I'm too scared that pain will return.
The key turned in the lock. From the living room, Sarada could see the front door open and Shisui enter the entryway.
"Hey hey!"
He took off his shoes, stepped into the living room, and leaned on the back of the sofa.
"What are we reading?"
Sarada silently lifted the magazine so he could see the cover.
"Medical Herald of Konoha," Shisui read aloud with expression. "And? Interesting?"
"Very," Sarada replied dryly.
"Your manner of speaking reminds me of Sasuke, you know. Same cold sarcasm," Shisui said mercilessly and grinned slyly.
Even now, this guy wouldn't stop teasing her. And he'd hit a sore spot. Comparing her to Dad could have been flattering—her father was incredibly strong—but Shisui was comparing her not to that future Sasuke, but to a boy her age who probably amounted to little.
Wonder what he's like.
Sasuke came up often in conversations, but he still hadn't come home.
"What makes you suddenly want to? Thinking of becoming a medic?"
Sarada winced. No way. The overflowing hospital after the Kyuubi attack was etched in her memory. The eerie hospital atmosphere, people's groans, horrific wounds, blood-soaked bandages...
"I was bored. This," she waved the magazine, "was the only thing I found to read. It was right on your bed."
Shisui scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Shisui-san," Sarada raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking of becoming a medic?"
"Uh... Not really. It's Kirei's magazine. Good thing you reminded me—I need to give it back to her."
Shisui tried to snatch the magazine from her, but she pulled her hand away.
"You're dating her, right?"
"Curiosity awakened? Good sign. You're slowly shaking off your apathy."
"Don't dodge the question," Sarada drawled nagging. "So, are you?"
"Officially—no. Give it here," Shisui yanked the magazine from her hands and rolled it into a tube. "I went to the Residence. They pulled your file from the archives, but all teams after the recent graduation are formed, and you're on standby. You're still genin rank, so you know, we can't freely mix you with chunin and jonin."
"And unofficially?" Sarada persisted.
"Unofficially what?"
"You and Kirei."
"Oh gods, you're still on that," Shisui grumbled discontentedly and shoved the magazine into a cupboard somewhere. "By the way, I looked into your old team. Both guys are chunin now, and there's a big gap in strength and age, you know. So you're off there too."
"I don't think the strength gap is that huge. Five years ago, they weren't promising much," Sarada droned on monotonically. "And you're changing the subject again."
"Drop it, kid."
Shisui rummaged in the cupboard, back turned to her, and suddenly a large scroll flew at Sarada's head. She barely caught it in mid-air.
"Read this instead."
Sarada unrolled the scroll skeptically.
"What is it?"
"Barrier techniques. I can't let you onto the training ground, or Kirei and your doctor will kill me, but no one's stopping you from quietly honing this scroll."
Shisui winked at her and went to his room.
***
The team dispersed at the gates. Kakashi-sensei vanished unnoticed. Sasuke, hands in pockets, slowly headed toward his house, and Sakura-chan didn't even try to tag along. They were all tired from the mission and the long journey. Naruto was dropping from exhaustion too, but he didn't go home first.
"Ramen... Ichiraku Ramen..." swirled in his head.
Naruto grinned in anticipation of the meal.
"Heh-heh, finally, Dattebayo!"
Thoughts of ramen gave him strength. One turn, another. Familiar streets, houses, shops. He ducked under the fabric with the sign.
"O-oh, Naruto!" Uncle Teuchi exclaimed. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"I was on an important mission!"
Naruto rolled up his sleeves and shook a fist at him, showing off his strength. Uncle was impressed. Utterly floored.
"Usual?"
"Yeah!"
Naruto slapped coins on the counter and, propping his cheeks on his hands, watched the owner. The ramen shop aromas bloomed paradise gardens in his heart, but mission memories kept souring his mood. Naruto frowned.
Damn Sasuke. He didn't panic, but I... So many times... And now I owe him.
Naruto had long imagined serious missions in vivid detail. In his fantasies, he always starred and dramatically defeated all enemies, while beaten, pathetic Sasuke watched in awe and thanked him. But the Land of Waves mission shattered all those rosy dreams. To panic so pathetically at the first real danger. How could he?
But death was so close... Naruto had never thought about it before. He was still young. Death was somewhere far off and distant, but on that mission, the thought pierced his mind repeatedly: death is now. His brain shut down, body froze. He'd never been so scared. And Sasuke... He seemed unafraid of pain or death. Reacted instantly. On the road when the chunin attacked. In the Land of Waves. And on the bridge...
The bowl of ramen Uncle Teuchi slid under Naruto's nose dispersed all dark thoughts with its appetizing aroma.
"We worked well together," he thought, recalling how he and Sasuke freed Kakashi-sensei from the water trap.
He split the chopsticks and clasped his hands.
"Itadakimas!"
Too many impressions, emotions, discoveries... But now he was finally home in Konoha, eating ramen. Wasn't this true happiness?
"What's up, Naruto? Heard the news?"
"Mm?" he mumbled, slurping noodles.
"The Uchiha clan has a new addition," Ayame announced brightly. "Turns out another girl survived. The whole village is talking about it."
Naruto froze. A noodle tip slipped from his mouth and plopped back into the broth. His chest went cold. Appetite vanished.
"Who?" Naruto asked quietly, holding his breath.
Ayame shrugged.
"Not clear. Just rumors. Why so glum?"
"Nothing."
Naruto sat gathering his thoughts, then slowly finished his ramen without enjoyment. His head felt squeezed by metal hoops.
A girl from the Uchiha clan. Plenty of girls in the Uchiha clan? Enough. It could be anyone, but Naruto thought of one.
Nee-chan... I want it to be her so bad. And if it's not her, I...
He felt suffocated.
***
The front door lock clicked. Sarada tensed warily in the kitchen. Shisui had been on a mission for three days, leaving her alone for the week.
Then who?
She set the glass on the counter, concealed her chakra, and quietly pressed against the wall. The door opened. Sarada peeked cautiously and saw through the living room arch a man enter the entryway. Blue t-shirt with a stand-up collar, Uchiha fan on the back...
Dad.
Sasuke's return excited her intensely. How would he react seeing her here?
He doesn't know anything. Shisui-san didn't tell him. Damn.
Sarada listened to sounds from the living room. Everything suddenly went quiet. Silence... Too long.
What is he doing?
"I know you're here," a familiar voice said threateningly.
"Come out."
Sarada exhaled.
Fine. What do I tell him?
She cautiously emerged from behind the kitchen doorframe. Sasuke stood barefoot on the living room floor, ready to draw shuriken and attack her right in the apartment at any moment. Their gazes met, and Sasuke's eyes bulged in surprise.
"You..."
Each word sent shivers down her spine. Now he looked much more like Dad than that brat she'd recently picked up from and dropped off at the academy. An instant, and shuriken flew at Sarada. She instantly ducked back behind the wall. The shuriken embedded in the wooden kitchen floor.
"Why ruin the floor?" Sarada retorted unkindly.
"Confess: who are you and how did you get into my house!"
Sarada activated her Sharingan and sensed Sasuke cautiously approaching the kitchen.
"I'm Sarada!"
"Uchiha Sarada died six years ago," he said in a metallic voice. "You have thirty seconds to convince me not to..."
She burst into the living room, not letting him finish. Sasuke hadn't expected the intruder to charge so suddenly and threw shuriken a bit late. Sarada dodged. The shuriken slammed into the wall behind her—right opposite the sofa.
Sasuke activated his dojutsu too.
"When did he awaken the Sharingan?" flashed the thought, followed by: "Gods, it's Dad. I'm fighting Dad!"
Young face, red eyes full of hate. Now this wasn't a six-year-old boy she could scold and raise. A lump rose in her throat. Only now did Sarada seriously wonder what Sasuke had endured back then, in the past... He was just a little kid.
The conversation on the way from the cemetery resurfaced again.
"I had many close people, and I lost them all. Father and mother, brother..."
At such a young age. That's why he reacted so coldly to Mom's death. But why "brother"?
Thoughts distracted from the fight. Sasuke kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying onto the sofa. He slashed with a kunai, but Sarada rolled aside, and the blade only tore the seat cushion. Sarada vaulted over the backrest and landed on the floor.
"Stop wrecking Shisui-san's apartment!"
Sasuke leaped onto the sofa, then the floor after her. Sharingan against Sharingan.
Like with Izumi then. Damn, I'm lagging again!
Sasuke clearly hadn't wasted time. He was stronger in taijutsu, and her previously untrained body wouldn't let Sarada fight him evenly. Plus, on the medics' orders, she'd been on bed rest and hadn't fully recovered from the wound.
"Who are you?" Sasuke wouldn't relent.
Their gazes crossed again. Sarada cast genjutsu into her father's pupils. His Sharingan resisted, but the technique was stronger. Her genjutsu skill had transferred fully with the memory. Under the illusion, Sasuke missed, and Sarada knocked him back with a fist toward Shisui's door.
"Shannaro! Just stop already!"
Sasuke slid to the floor and stared at her dazedly. Sarada was gasping.
Genjutsu and strike... like with Izumi... Damn. Did he kill Izumi too?
Tears welled up. Shisui had managed to bring her back to life a bit after awakening the Mangekyo. From time to time, Sarada recalled moments from the past and wanted to cry.
"S-Sarada?" Sasuke muttered.
He still couldn't fully believe it.
"No kidding?" she noted acidly.
"But how? And why are you..."
"Why are we the same age?"
I still don't know what to tell him. Can't tell the truth, and I probably can't lie convincingly.
Sarada deactivated her Sharingan.
"Better let Shisui-san explain."
"Where is he?" Sasuke asked quickly.
"On mission. Won't be back for three-four days, at least."
Sasuke deactivated his Sharingan too.
"And what did you think I was?"
"Don't know. I still can't fully believe it's you. Itachi..." he faltered and gritted his teeth.
Sarada looked at him, and the last remnants of her faith crumbled to dust. Itachi and Sasuke. They loved each other so much. She'd thought nothing in the world was stronger than those brothers' bond, or Itachi and Shisui's friendship. Now neither remained.
A world where true friendship doesn't exist, where love either fades or turns to hate. Just pretty words without foundation. Is my disillusionment the Mangekyo curse, Shisui-san? Or the truth of the world we live in?
Sarada surveyed the living room proprietarily and shook her head disapprovingly at the damaged upholstery. Their home had gotten off lightly. Could've been worse.
"You ruined my sofa," Sarada drawled boredly. "Sew it up now."
"Shut up."
Sasuke stood, dusted himself off, and went to his room, slamming the door. Sarada sighed.
He's even more bratty than at six.