In the dark world, outlines of a gloomy room emerged, lit by a single candle on a black wooden desk. Sarada tried to move her hand, but her wrists were tightly bound to the armchair arms.
"Awake?" a cold voice asked.
A man with a cross-shaped scar on his chin stepped from the shadows. The right half of his face was wrapped in bandages. Behind him, a white tiger mask with red patterns emerged from the darkness.
Where am I?
Sarada looked around, but the room was too dark.
"State your name."
"S-Sarada."
"Uchiha Sarada, I presume?" the man pressed.
She stayed silent.
"What is your connection to the Uchiha clan?"
They saw Sharingan. They know.
"None."
"Don't lie. You have the clan crest on your clothes. And... Sharingan."
Sarada clenched her teeth. Wild fear overwhelmed her. She was in this situation for the first time, in some dungeon among enemies... No, among people who considered her the enemy. Enemy of the Hidden Leaf. No way to justify or move. No rescue coming. She was alone, no one to stand up for her. They'd do whatever they wanted. She was completely at their mercy. And with horror, Sarada realized she probably wouldn't leave this dark room alive. They'd interrogate her. Maybe torture. She'd tell the truth eventually under torture, but they wouldn't believe and keep tormenting. And she wouldn't return to the village. Why release an enemy into peaceful Leaf?
"Uncle, you told them. You turned me in," Sarada thought bitterly.
The man approached.
"Uchiha Sarada."
Chills ran down her skin. Strange to hear her full name after so long, from someone from the past.
"I have many questions for you."
The wrinkled, bandaged face loomed right at her nose, and she smelled foul breath.
"Where did you learn shinobi arts? Why no records of you in the archives? Who are your parents? How are you connected to Uchiha?"
Questions poured one after another. Sarada pressed into the chair back. An inner voice answered them in her head:
Academy. Because I'm from the future. Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura. I'm the sole Uchiha clan heiress!
But she couldn't tell him that!
She shook finely, like during the Nine-Tails attack. And she'd thought she'd grown stronger morally at least. No.
"Won't talk?" the man inquired, squinting his one eye.
He pulled back, and Sarada finally breathed. The stranger went to the desk, unwinding the bandages on the right side of his face.
"Pity, Suguru, we don't have an experienced Yamanaka. It'd be much faster and easier," he said to the shinobi in the tiger mask.
"Yes, Danzo-sama."
Danzo-sama. Never heard of this guy.
Danzo folded the bandages on the desk and returned. The right side of his face was disfigured, the previously hidden eyelid drooped. He came even closer. Just like Itachi's ghost in the flophouse underpass. But Uncle, though awe-inspiring, had warm breath signaling: a living person nearby, young and pure. He must be kind to his loved ones, even gentle, and if he knew the truth about her, maybe she'd feel it fully too. She was his niece, after all.
The right eyelid twitched and opened, revealing a red iris with floating tomoe commas. Uchiha clan dojutsu.
Sarada reacted instantly. Chakra surged to her eyes, activating her own Sharingan. Danzo's right pupil fired an energy pulse. A normal person wouldn't notice such subtle influence. But Sarada's kekkei genkai let her see and resist the mind intrusion. Danzo was trying genjutsu on her.
"Damn old man, shannaro! I'm Uchiha. Like hell that'll work on me!"
Sharingan reflected the technique. Sarada fired a counter-illusion at his left eye, but he parried genjutsu too.
Very experienced.
"Impudent girl," Danzo snorted, pulling back again.
He leisurely returned to the desk and carefully rebandaged his face.
"You must realize you won't leave here. Especially after seeing my Sharingan. In your interest to tell me everything. Then you'll die quick and painless."
Sarada stayed silent.
"Still won't," Danzo concluded.
What organization is this? Not Military Police, or Uchiha would interrogate. Anbu?
"I tried being gentle, but you resist genjutsu. Fine."
The man raised his hand in some gesture. The tiger mask moved and approached her chair. Anbu drew a kunai.
No. Don't. Please.
She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut to not see the blade approaching, but her eyelids wouldn't obey, eyes tracking the kunai tip inexorably nearing her immobile right hand.
Her heart pounded. Sarada choked on fear.
As a child, she'd feared shots and tests in the hospital the same way, but doctors meant well, unlike the shinobi in the tiger mask.
An instant, and wild pain pierced her right hand. The kunai pinned her palm to the armrest. Sarada screamed, horrified as crimson blood spread across the back of her hand. Her body shook. Any finger twitch sent agony through her arm.
No, I can't endure this.
Sarada bravely endured pain in training and sparring. Cuts, wounds... But in battle's heat, pain fueled fighting spirit. Now they planned to mutilate her body like meat, and she couldn't move.
Damn wave, where are you? Send me to another time. I promise I'll be smarter. Get stronger, won't let them torment me. Appear, please! Now's the time!
Sarada had sworn to herself before, but nothing changed.
"You're weak," Danzo pronounced like a sentence. "You won't last long. So, repeating. Who are your...
The door creaked.
"Danzo!" a raspy elderly voice sounded.
People entered.
So there was a door in the darkness...
Pointless realization.
The shinobi yanked the kunai from her hand lightning-fast. Sarada cried out again. More pain and the blade scraping wounded flesh.
"Hiruzen?" Danzo asked innocently.
Sarada licked her dry lips and looked at the newcomers. A short old man in light Hokage robes with a pipe in his teeth. A sturdy dark-haired man in a green Konoha vest. The latter had a grim stern face, but Sarada wasn't scared. No one scared her more than Danzo now.
"What is this?" the stern man exclaimed angrily, spotting Sarada.
The old Hokage noticed her tied to the chair too and removed his pipe.
"Have you lost your mind, Danzo," the Third said harshly. "What are you doing?"
"Don't know what you mean," Danzo replied coldly.
"This girl belongs to our clan!" the stern vest man roared.
"He's Uchiha? How does he know?"
Her right hand gradually numbed from pain and shock.
Her young uncle stepped from behind the newcomers.
"You..." Danzo said. "I underestimated you, Uchiha Itachi."
Sarada understood nothing. She'd been sure Uncle set it all up, turned her in to village internal security. He'd threatened her. Promised to kill her. He'd injected her with something...
"We're taking the child," the stern-faced man declared. "And, Sandaime, this won't end here. Mark my words."
"I understand your anger, Fugaku. This situation was a complete surprise to me too. I'll handle it."
"Sandaime. The clan was moved to the village outskirts. Military Police budget cut. Now you kidnap and torture a child from our clan. Unthinkable!"
"The girl belongs to your clan?" Danzo asked in surprise.
"Don't play games, Danzo-sama," Fugaku spat. "Itachi, free her."
Uncle slipped past the desk, reached her, and cut the ropes. Sarada didn't move. She still shook; her body wouldn't obey.
"I had no info Sarada belonged to Uchiha clan," Danzo said slyly. "I checked everything. If she really was Uchiha—I wouldn't touch her. But I was wary...
"Itachi," Fugaku cut in shortly.
Uncle turned his back to her. Danzo fell silent and looked at him too.
"She's daughter of a civilian woman who died a month ago, and a man from our clan. We met and trained together."
What is he saying?
"Names," Danzo's eyes flashed.
"Can't say," Itachi said calmly. "Sarada's father's name unknown even to her. Mother's name I refuse to give."
"Why?"
"For Sarada's own safety. I know you won't leave her alone."
"They will," Fugaku said firmly. "You don't want trouble, do you, Danzo?"
Uncle shook his head.
"I won't say."
Sarada stared at his straight back and the Uchiha crest on his t-shirt, covered by the dark ponytail.
"Not proof," Danzo snorted.
"You don't need proof," the Hokage said sternly and bit his pipe. "You overstepped."
"I trust my son's word," Fugaku said challengingly. "Or do you doubt Itachi's loyalty to the Leaf?"
"Certainly not."
Itachi turned to her again and said softly:
"Get up."
Sarada tried moving her right hand, but any finger twitch brought searing pain. Itachi got bandages from a kit and tightly wrapped the wound. Sarada grimaced and hissed.
"Come on, let's go home."
He helped her stand and gripped her left hand firmly. Uncle's palm was soft, warm, and dry.
"But I have no home," Sarada muttered, remembering the flophouse.
No, after this she couldn't go back.
"You do. Let's go."
He pulled her hand, and Sarada obediently let him lead her from Danzo's scary room. The four men stayed behind as she and her uncle entered the dark corridor.
"Where are we?"
"ANBU Root base."
Such a calm, soft voice.
It didn't fit in her head. Why did Uncle come to her aid? How did he know she'd been grabbed? First threatened, then unexpectedly saved. Maybe to keep info from Danzo? Wanted to torture her himself?
Sarada stopped. Itachi felt resistance and turned.
"What?"
"This is all a show, right?" Her voice trembled. "You'll torture me too. You only took me for that. You think I'm an enemy. You all suspect I'm... I don't even know who."
Sarada said what came to mind. No courage or pride left. Either fully trust Uncle or die quick—no other options.
"No."
"I don't believe you," Sarada sobbed.
Her first impulse was to lift glasses and wipe tears with her fist, but the bandaged hand shot pain at the slightest finger move, and Itachi still held her left. Tears just streamed down her cheeks.
"I won't hurt you."
That calm voice again.
Itachi pulled her hand.
"Come on, faster. I'll take you to medics."
They exited to the street, and the stuffy ANBU Root base air gave way to warm summer evening freshness. Sarada turned and saw Hokage faces overhead. Root base gates were in the cliff itself.
Uncle extended a hand, and a huge crow swooped down from nowhere. It perched briefly, flapped wings, and soared back up.
From the ordeal's fear and shock, Sarada couldn't walk fast. Uncle easily matched her pace, and they strolled leisurely through the night village.
"The hospital's the other way," Sarada objected weakly.
"We're not going to the hospital."
"You said to medics..."
"Yes, I said right."
She didn't want to ask or clarify. Uncle lied to his father, Danzo, Hokage. Unclear why, but Itachi's confident lie saved her, instantly turning her from Konoha enemy to unfortunate Uchiha orphan, victim of internal security overreach. Ten minutes ago she had nothing; suddenly the mightiest clan of Hidden Leaf backed her.
They climbed to a garden on one building's roof. Old Konoha had many such green oases. Benches without backs lined the glass parapet, yellow lanterns glowed. In the far apple tree amid the gloomy garden, a shadow stirred, and someone quietly dropped to the grass.
"Made it after all."
A young guy with messy black hair stepped into light. Same standing-collar t-shirt as Itachi, but a light-brown strap from armpit to left shoulder. Sarada recognized him instantly.
Uchiha Shisui. How he's grown.
"Not quite. Kirei with you?"
"Yeah..."
Shisui scratched his head sheepishly. A lithe girl with lush chestnut hair dropped from the tree. Clan Inuzuka war paint stood out on her cheeks in the garden twilight. A large she-wolf sauntered from under the apple tree after her.
"How'd you find us, Itachi?" the girl asked irritably.
"I needed an iryonin. Figured he'd be with you, Shisui."
"Hey, squirt, what do you...
"Kirei, later," Shisui cut her softly, glancing at Sarada's bandaged hand.
The bandage was blood-soaked, crimson staining through.
"Hm, c'mere."
The she-wolf stayed at Shisui's feet. Kirei approached Sarada, unwound the bandage, cupped the wounded palm with both hands, and green glow enveloped it. The wound inside tingled.
Itachi stepped to his friend, and they spoke softly. Unhearable.
"Hey, what's this racket? What're you doing here at night?"
The she-wolf growled. Two young police stood at the park entrance.
"Yo!" Shisui waved friendly.
"Shisui?" the unfamiliar Uchiha said surprised.
"Hi, Iori. We're leaving."
"Sorry to interrupt. Didn't think it was you. Good night."
"Good night. Thanks."
Kirei frowned.
"So that's how you do things, huh? Nepotism."
"Don't be mad," Shisui smiled. "They're good guys."
Uchiha district was dark and quiet. Everyone slept. Only she and Itachi wandered side by side down the empty street. The hand Kirei healed itched slightly but no longer hurt. Sarada calmed a bit.
Her heart held nothing: no despair, no fear. Only endless fatigue and emptiness. Even if Itachi had some unkind plans for her, Sarada just didn't want to think about it. She desperately wanted to believe they'd really protected and accepted her.
And that she finally had a home. A real home.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan