The Uzumaki Heir

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Everything

Who cares about being a Shinobi, anyway. What does it lead in the end? Death. Sufferings. Abandonment. Noble war.

"Man, everything about this is just a drag." Mumbled Shikadai, his head rested in his arms.

"I'd be a genin if this helps me lose weight." Said Chouchou.

The man with laser-like shades had begun to fill them with an introduction towards their genin graduation next week. Sarada closed her eyes for a bit, her chin against her folded hands. She decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

On her left, she saw Inojin scribbling doodles. When Shino called for his attention, the drawings magically ran off.

"What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word Shinobi?" Shino asked, after writing the word NINJA and SHINOBI on the board. "Ninjas, Genin, Kunai blades--what else, hm?"

Screwed up people, a lot of them. Sarada thought. 

Who gave a damn?

"I can read all of you, if you aren't aware. I know that some of you aren't particularly interested in this subject. I also know that there is a numerous number of potentially-capabled Genins from you in this generation."

"Who, like me?" Boruto braggingly defended himself. Shino eyed him cleverly, like there were holes in his eyes that could see everyone's inner selves. All of them knew of Old Man Shino; not necessarily old man, but as their adviser and sensei, sometimes he went quiescent on them and sometimes he was on the mood to make fun of everyone. He even brought other members of his team such as Ino, Kiba and the rest. He thought they were a perfect model; an exemplary for them to follow.

There was nothing wrong about favoritism, but Sarada didn't know the term. Their attention to her was a quick span that made the class glance at her much to her knowledge--geez, she was an Uchiha, she got that. The only time she probably wasn't at hot seat was whenever she'd look into the windows and pretend that she couldn't see a thing. But she could see it all; the curiosity upon her classmates' eyes, the leaves that were starting to fall this Autumn, how everyday went on and on and life was a shortage of happiness.

Sarada Uchiha believed in scary stories. She believed how one day the sun would consume the planets and all that would be left was chaos and fire. Or on one typical day going to start, something terrible would break out. An assassination, a mysterious disappearance of a certain villager-life happened.

She would not forget the day she was almost kidnapped. At a very young age, perhaps when she was turning four, a group of Rogue-nins with an unusual name kidnapped her. Looking at the bruises that marked her until now, Sarada could still reminisce the feeling of feeling utterly vulnerable; she woke up cold, the chakra ropes on her wrists were tight, and she was locked up in a rayless place. If it weren't for Naruto and Sakura who came by themselves, Sarada would have known what torture was like. Anyhow, the way Sakura finished those men with an imbrued fist, it was a spectacle. Her mother had an incredible power, for some reason she got excited at inheriting it someday. 

What was the feeling of being feared, and looked up like, she wondered?

Nonsense. 

What a considerable (droll) thought in the morning.

The humming song of nature from the windows' waft made Sarada place two hands together, closing her eyes. 

It was a sign of laziness, at the same time an act of hostility--there were some people whose thoughts go deeply as a snake's and Sarada was one of which that didn't want their saturninity to be stirred.