Sarada quickly realized that her grandfather, who had so generously adopted her, had zero interest in her. In fact, he was indifferent not just to the outsider child, but even to his youngest. He paid attention only to Itachi. Once, grandpa asked how her training was going, but the next minute forgot she existed.
"I'll be late," he said at breakfast. "Go to sleep without me."
"What about dinner?" grandma asked.
"I'll eat somewhere," he stood. "Itachi, see you at the meeting."
"Yes, Father."
Mikoto walked him out, and Sarada leaned over the table and whispered:
"Uncle, what meeting?"
He choked on rice and coughed. Either he didn't want to talk about the meeting, or because Sarada called him uncle again.
"Better stay out of it," he rasped, clearing his throat, and sipped tea to restore his voice.
Itachi finished eating and hurried off on his mission. Sarada helped grandma clear the table and asked:
"What meeting was Fugaku-san talking about?"
"Clan meeting."
"And why?"
"They discuss clan matters there."
Mikoto dried another plate and put it away.
"Clan matters. What kind of matters?" Sarada thought.
Izumi was on a mission all day; there was no one to train with. Sarada went to the training ground with little dad, and on the way back unexpectedly ran into Naruto.
"Are you following me?"
"No," the boy frowned. "But I'm glad to see you, nee-chan."
"And I you—not," Sasuke snorted. "Sarada, I'm going home. If you want to mess with him, do it without me."
"Gods, six years old, Dad," Sarada thought skeptically. "What's wrong with you?"
Though she understood him somewhat. Little Nanadaime was clingy and loud. But Sarada knew this tiny blond menace would become Hokage, and his yells were worth taking seriously. Sasuke didn't know, and to him Naruto was just an annoying talentless peer.
The gap in skills between Dad and Nanadaime was already strikingly huge. Sasuke was talented. For a kid not even in the academy yet, he handled kunai well and mastered taijutsu excellently. But Naruto... Sarada grumbled at Dad when he called Nanadaime a loser, but overall couldn't disagree.
"Nee-chan," Naruto said timidly.
They wandered aimlessly through the village, and with Sasuke gone, the future Hokage was unusually quiet. Sarada sensed he was down.
"What's up, Nanadaime?"
"I'm entering the academy."
"Great!" she tried to cheer him.
Nanadaime sighed.
"Parents are invited to the entrance ceremony. Everyone's will come..."
Sarada involuntarily glanced at the Hokage Rock. Naruto seemed oblivious and kept mumbling:
"Wonder what my dad was like? I'd want him to see me that day."
"You don't know who your parents are?" Sarada asked in surprise.
"The old Third said they were shinobi. Died during the Fox attack."
Sarada looked at the Hokage Monument again. The last, fourth face—Yondaime Hokage Minato, Boruto's grandpa, Nanadaime's dad. They hadn't told him? Naruto didn't know he was Hokage's son, and his dad was the hero who saved the village? There must have been reasons to keep him in the dark.
"He's watching you anyway, Nanadaime," Sarada said, looking at Minato's stone face.
"How?"
"He's always observing you."
But if he didn't know his father was Yondaime, why did he suddenly want to become Hokage?
"Hey, Nanadaime. Why do you want to become Hokage?"
"So everyone recognizes me!" Naruto lit up instantly. "I'll become the strongest ninja. I'll surpass all past Hokage, ttebayo!"
"Just to be recognized?" Sarada asked sadly.
"Well... yeah," he faltered.
If Shisui was right, they were both wrong. But Sarada didn't try to convince him—she wasn't one to judge the man who really became the strongest ninja and surpassed all Hokage. He was wrong now, but eventually reached what Shisui told her: he cared for every village resident and considered the whole Leaf his family.
And she...
Why did she want to become Hokage?
Because she saw Nanadaime, felt his care and strength, and knew that was the light to strive for. It was the image of the Seventh that drew her first, not the Hokage post itself. That was it.
"Nee-chan, will you come to my entrance ceremony?" Naruto asked quietly.
"Huh?" Sarada snapped out of her thoughts. "Yeah, yeah. I'll come."
Dad would be entering too. We'd probably go as a family.
Naruto beamed. Could the whole conversation have been just to ask her to attend the enrollment ceremony?
Oh, Nanadaime.
Itachi had never liked gatherings.
From the very first day, when his father introduced him, his eldest son, to the brotherhood and allowed him to attend the clan meetings, Itachi had disliked the event with all his soul. The basement hall of the Naka Shrine always had a oppressive gloomy atmosphere. The people coming here would simultaneously pour out all their indignation, and in the stuffy air, like electricity before a storm, hatred accumulated. Itachi could feel it with his skin. It flowed between the seated clansmen, growing thicker and thicker with each gathering. Itachi always felt that at the next meeting he wouldn't just sense its presence, but see with his own eyes some dark stinging embodiment of this disgusting human emotion.
Four candles burned in the corners of the room. His father cleared his throat and stood up.
"Greetings, my brothers," his voice sounded solemn. "I can bring you good news. My son will soon join Anbu."
His heart sank somewhere down. It seemed to Itachi that for five seconds it didn't beat at all, as if it wasn't in his chest.
What are you talking about, Father? Nothing has been decided yet. I still have a trial mission ahead. And I... No, Shisui and I... We could die. Our opponent is incredibly strong and experienced. Be quiet, Father, please. Don't continue.
But his father didn't hear his soul's cry. The gathering fell silent, listening to the leader's words.
"We have served the village faithfully since its founding, and all this time it has repaid us with black ingratitude. We were excluded from the Council. The Leaf government encroaches on our rights, assets, and lands. Moreover, they suspect us of summoning the Nine-Tails to Konoha. They say that people from our clan were the only ones who didn't suffer on the day of the tragedy. But did they let us join the battle against Kyuubi? We were ready to give our lives for peace and quiet in the village, but they didn't even let us fulfill our duty!" roared his father.
Itachi felt hot.
"All their thoughts and actions are based on prejudice. We endured for a long time, but our patience has limits."
Itachi suddenly realized he was involuntarily shaking his head from side to side, though he hadn't given his head any such command. His body reacted to the words on its own: Itachi's entire essence protested against what his father was smoothly leading to.
Be quiet! Please... Be quiet... Don't continue.
"Itachi's entry into Anbu is our chance. The very chance we've been waiting for so long. Now we'll have our man in the heart of Leaf, and we can stage a coup!"
The hall roared.
"Itachi..."
Like in a dream, in a fog. He wasn't here. This wasn't his name. His father wasn't calling him.
This name was an empty sound. He had no name.
He had no body.
He didn't exist.
"The true purpose of your entry into Anbu is to scout how things stand in the village center. You'll report everything to us."
Spy.
Itachi suddenly realized that he would become what Danzou had ordered him to eliminate on the trial mission.
Kohinata Mukai... How will I differ from you? How am I better than you? In no way.
Among the backs with emblems in the form of a red-and-white fan, Itachi distinguished one familiar and dear. Shisui sat unnaturally straight. His entire demeanor screamed immense tension.
That conversation on the cliff. About joining Anbu, about the Hokage...
Unlike the other Uchihas, Shisui was a jonin of Leaf. He didn't work in the Military Police. His comrades, the villagers, knowing how strong he was, had personally vouched for him so that Shisui wouldn't be transferred to the Police but left as a jonin for field missions. Shisui saw the conflict between the Uchiha and Konoha from both sides. He and Shisui were the only Uchihas who harbored no hatred for the village and wanted reconciliation, not rebellion. Shisui believed that Itachi's entry into Anbu would help bridge the gulf between the Uchiha and Leaf. Itachi himself had hoped for that. But his father had other plans.
Why are you ruining everything, Father?
For Shisui, the head's words were also a complete surprise. He had agreed to risk his life to help Itachi complete the initiation mission. He believed it would all be for the good. But now it turned out that instead of peace, they were laying the foundation for a rebellion.
Shisui turned around and gave a miserable smile. His eyes held such unbearable pain that Itachi's heart clenched in despair.
That day, Uncle didn't go on a mission. He took the day off. For Sarada, it was a bit strange, since Itachi usually disappeared for whole days and worked without a break. Uncle himself helped Grandma Mikoto wash the dishes, was surprisingly attentive to all family members, and even promised Sasuke to go train with him.
"Uncle, are you sick?" Sarada asked curiously.
"No."
She sighed.
Uchiha Itachi was an amazing person. Yes, he was a bit difficult to deal with. He answered briefly or gave long pompous lectures. He never laughed or joked. He showed no tenderness to his mother, father, or her, even though he knew she was his niece. He had no sense of humor, no personal life, not even friends except Shisui. Sarada was amazed that Uncle had even bonded with Shisui. They were like opposites: sociable cheerful Shisui, who teased her at every opportunity, and Uncle—silent and pensive, too serious for his age... What brought these different people together? What united them? Even Izumi, whom Sarada had initially mistaken for Itachi's girlfriend, wasn't particularly close to him. The two greeted each other, occasionally walked, but Izumi admitted that even in those rare moments, Itachi wandered in thoughts inaccessible to her.
Uncle stood in the hallway, waiting.
"You ready, Sasuke?"
"Coming!"
Little Dad burst into the corridor with a bag over his shoulder, plopped down on his butt on the threshold, and hastily pulled on his sandals. Holding hands, they left the house and headed to the training ground. Sarada silently watched them go.
Itachi transformed only in Sasuke's presence. It was very strange to see him break into a smile at the sight of his younger brother, with a warm spark lighting up his black eyes. And the little bratty Dad basked in that warmth meant only for him.
Sasuke changed with Itachi too. With Mom, he was tender; with Sarada, he sulked and pouted, unhappy that a stranger girl was raising him; with Father, he was a bit scared and timidly hopeful; with peers, arrogant.
With Itachi, it was different. All the love accumulated in his heart under the shell of arrogance, Sasuke gave to his older brother. Sarada watched these two and understood that Uncle would never have anyone closer than Sasuke, and Dad—closer than Itachi. Neither Mikoto, nor Sakura in the future, nor Sarada herself— no one elicited such open adoration from Sasuke, no one would he ever open up to like he was opening up to Itachi now.
Itachi cared for her; Sarada saw and felt it. He gradually taught her, gave valuable advice. He taught her summoning and even tried to explain his version of the Body Replacement Technique, which used crows instead of a log, though Sarada still couldn't replicate it successfully. Their communication was minimal but damn useful. Besides, Uncle had protected her from Danzou and covered for her with lies to Father and the Third Hokage. She lived in Grandpa and Grandma's house, but felt like she was under Itachi's wing, since even her sudden adoption into the family was surely his doing.
But Uncle didn't let her get closer. He definitely had secrets. Maybe it even hurt him sometimes. He surely dreamed of something. What? Every time, Sarada ran into an invisible wall that Itachi himself erected between them. And she really wanted to be open with him and expect the same openness in return. She was ready to keep his secrets, share his pain. Sometimes she even wanted to hug him. They were family, so why did it seem so unbelievable—to wrap her arms around Itachi's back, slide her palms under the soft silky ponytail, bury her nose in his shoulder or neck, feel his heartbeat against her chest, and hear his warm weightless breath right by her ear? Why could she hug everyone else, why did Nanadaime cling to her leg at the first opportunity, choke her in a hug, or jump into her arms, but hugging Uchiha Itachi was strictly forbidden? As if he weren't human, but a machine.
And Sarada knew he was no machine at all. Indifference and coldness were a shinobi's mask, just like the ones Anbu members wore to hide their faces, only not animalistic or colorful. Sarada saw how he changed at the sight of his brother, how the cloying pretense fell away.
You're kind, Uncle. I see your kindness. I even feel it, even if it often carries a chill. Why won't you open up to me? You carry everything inside, bury your thoughts and feelings deep, share with no one—maybe only Shisui. Why?
But today Itachi was acting really unusually. He scanned the familiar house and estate, talked to the family as if for the last time. He even went to train Sasuke. That was a miracle.
What's happening in your life, Uchiha Itachi?
They returned toward evening, but not just the two of them—three. Grandpa Fugaku strode ahead, eternally grumpy, while Itachi trailed behind, hunched under the weight of Sasuke perched on his shoulders. All three went into Grandpa's room, slid the paper door shut, and discussed something for a long time. From there came little Dad's thin pleading voice, Grandpa's exclamations: "Have you lost your mind, Itachi?!" "You know how important tomorrow's mission is for the Uchiha clan!"
There, behind the door, was a life inaccessible to Sarada, one even little Sasuke was privy to, but not her.
Grandpa was talking about a mission. So that's why Uncle took the day off. He was preparing for an important assignment?
Finally, the door panel slid aside, and Grandpa came out. Irritation was written on his stern face. A little later, limping Sasuke shuffled into the kitchen and sat on the floor, pressing a slice of frozen meat to his ankle. His eyes held some murky mixed emotions, impossible to read.
"Press the cold harder," Itachi advised, passing by.
Grandpa was furious, Dad thoughtful and dejected. Only Uncle was as usual fine. Fine? No, more like "as usual, nothing."
Itachi felt disgusted. He couldn't imagine how Father had learned the mission was scheduled for tomorrow, but he had clearly been allowed to know. Danzou had leaked exactly as much information as he deemed necessary. No more, no less. The leader of the mighty clan was a plaything of the Konoha government. He knew the mission date, that he could take a partner, but not the other details. For example, that Itachi had long chosen his partner—Shisui.
Gathering them in his room, Father announced he would go on the mission with Itachi. He spoke at length about how the eldest son's entry would bring the Uchiha clan to greatness and glory. And completely ignored the younger one...
How pathetic Father was...
All the way from the training ground, riding on Itachi's back, Sasuke chattered about how he dreamed of working in the Military Police and was waiting for Dad to attend his academy enrollment ceremony.
...sitting in the room opposite Father and listening to his fanatical speech about the clan and glory, Sasuke kept trying to remind him how important tomorrow was for him. And when he finally mustered the courage, his weak little voice sharply interrupted Father's stern tone.
Father heard nothing, noticed nothing but the damn clan—not even little Sasuke. He forgot tomorrow was the enrollment ceremony. Nor did he consider that his eldest son might not return from the mission. In Father's thoughts ruled only the clan, and in Itachi's soul boiled long-fermented icy rage.
It was already hard for him. He was mentally preparing for the possibility of death. And at such a crucial moment, Shisui should have been by his side. No one else. But Father... He was meddling again. Why? Why ignore his younger son, who needed him so much? Was the clan more important?
"You know, Father... I'm refusing tomorrow's mission."
Itachi said it completely calmly. And, surprisingly, from the pure heart. He was fed up. He didn't want to bear the clan's hatred on his shoulders, spy on the village that was about to accept him into Anbu and trust him. All he wanted was to go to Sasuke's ceremony and forget all this.
Hearing his statement, Father momentarily lost his speech. Then he shouted. Gods, how he shouted. Poor Sasuke shrank in fear.
"I'm going to the academy for Sasuke's enrollment ceremony. Parents are invited; you should have gotten the notice... Father," Itachi added, still coldly.
Father calmed down and looked at Sasuke, as if only now remembering his existence.
Itachi clenched his teeth.
How can you be so blind?
"I understand," Father replied. "I'll go to the academy. Conversation over."
Itachi got his way. Now Father would go to the academy, not the mission. Everything would stay as it was. But it brought no satisfaction. Itachi looked at Sasuke: the younger brother was stunned and felt guilty for their quarrel.
His heart clenched painfully.
Sorry, Sasuke.
Sleep wouldn't come. Anxiety gnawed at her soul. Sarada tossed in bed, pressing her uncomfortably hot pillow first to one cheek, then the other. What mission? Why was Grandpa yelling? Unable to stay in bed any longer, she got up and decided to go out for fresh air, hoping it would clear her head and bring the long-awaited sleep.
Sarada peeked onto the veranda and was surprised to find she wasn't first. Uncle sat on the edge, bare feet dangling over the stone threshold. He didn't turn, but Sarada knew: her presence had been sensed long ago. Itachi caught such things instantly.
She approached and cautiously sat on the wooden floor, watching Uncle's reaction: what if he looked at her now and chased her away? Said, "Why did you come?" Or worse, left her alone with her worries and insomnia.
But Itachi was silent.
The night air did sober Sarada a bit. Moonlight danced on the restless trembling water of the pond. Uncle sat very close, yet infinitely far: as always, withdrawn, slowly stewing in his own juice, admitting no one into the mystery of his thoughts. And no way to break through. Asking directly about the mission, the gatherings, why Grandpa got angry—no. One wrong word, and he'd shut down even more. Or chase her away. Or leave.
"Uncle, tell me..." she blurted unexpectedly even to herself. "Do you like Izumi?"
Itachi was taken aback and looked at her with such huge surprised eyes that Sarada nearly scooted to the other end of the veranda.
"You... you... why do you ask?" he stammered.
Sarada, as if for the first time, looked into his eyes and saw a living person. Embarrassed, confused, astonished... Not a killing machine, not a shinobi. One random question shattered his mask, patiently cultivated by years of restraint.
Words came from somewhere on their own:
"Because sometimes it seems like you have no soul, Uncle."
Itachi sank his gaze into the dark pond water and fell silent.
No, no, don't go away. Don't shut down again.
"Give me your hand," Sarada demanded and extended her open palm.
Another surprised look. Understanding nothing, Itachi cautiously placed his right hand over her open palm and watched with interest as Sarada's slender fingers intertwined with his. He stared at their joined hands as if they lived their own life and obeyed neither him nor Sarada.
She wanted to say so much, but feared scaring him off, accidentally damaging the fragile bond established between them, and the words stuck in her throat. Itachi's dry warm palm warmed her hand; at the base of their intertwined fingers, she felt a faint pulse.
Alive. Still alive. And he has a soul.
Uncle tore himself from contemplating their hands, and their gazes met. Sarada realized he too wanted to tell her something badly but couldn't muster the courage. Couldn't find the words, just like her. Finally, he spoke:
"At dawn, I'm leaving on a mission."
That calm voice again. And for once, speaking from the heart...
"And I might not return."
Something snapped inside. Itachi noticed the fear in her eyes and squeezed her hand tighter.
"If something happens—look after Sasuke. Father pays him no attention at all."
"Look after my own Dad..." Sarada smiled sadly.
Uncle, what are you saying? You're so strong. You can't die on some mission, especially in peacetime!
"Thanks."
Her throat spasmed. Tears welled up disobediently again. Could this really be their last conversation? But they had only just started getting closer. So much unsaid and... This was wrong!
"I don't know what your mission is. I don't know anything about your life; you tell me nothing. But..."
She choked, vainly trying to find the right words.
"We've known each other barely a month," Itachi smiled faintly. "And you've grown so attached to me, as if you knew me all your life."
Sarada realized with surprise that Uncle, despite his outward coldness, perfectly understood what was happening in her soul. And even put it into words when she herself couldn't.
"If in the future you and Sasuke are the only Uchihas left, then we weren't meant to meet at all, right?" he added quietly.
Trembling moonlight on the water blurred through the tears.
"Uncle, come back from that mission, please."
Sarada took off her glasses, set them on the floor, and brushed moisture from her lashes. Itachi was silent. He no longer objected to her calling him "Uncle."
"Because you're right," Sarada exhaled. "Even though little time has passed, I... I came to love you, Uncle."
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan