The Uzumaki Heir

Chapter 3: Echoes of the Past

A/N

4/16/16

So I've realized that I wanted to write at least one A/N per chapter

To those who're reading this and have found it quite entertaining, delightful and probably realistic, I dedicate this chapter to you. You are all beautiful.

Should I watch Shiki, Dusk Maiden of Amnesia and *add your recommended anime here!*?

Please be patient with me...haha I have a lot of surprises for you to open

Just know that I'm kind of a Jose Rizal and a Gillian Flynn kind-of writer (I hope and I aspire to)—there are mysteries left here and the readers have to make up for the missing pieces! Be detectives, alright? Haha

Enough from me. SasuSaku babies here you go

___________________________________________________________________________

In Sakura's dream, Sasuke had taken a four-day leave from ANBU work.

He was just laying there, tired and exasperated. But he didn't look worn after all—Sarada was laying next to him, wrapped around his arms of adulthood. Sarada just breathed heavily. Without glasses her eyes were more Asian-like, and her bubblegum pink hair shone in the aurora. Sunlight flared from the open eyes, like it really was a good day. And indeed, it was.

Sasuke was finally home.

He was here.

He was wearing a sleeveless completely black-with-tinge-of-purple shirt, the casual ANBU wear when Shinobi weren't in motion. 'But when he came back, he applied for Konoha's ANBU administration. It was his creed to honor Itachi, and he needed a job to work for a living.' A voice on the back of her head spoke.

Sakura exhaled. She just stood from the door, crossing her arms in satisfaction.

Sasuke in the uniform reminded her of a young Kakashi: back when he was young: he was handsome alright; full of commitment, and coming home was a relief. In the ANBU sometimes missions were like a suicide mission: you kill yourself instead of being captured.

Everything wasn't to easy to take in. Staring at the family she was part of, she wondered for a moment if no Rogue criminals existed; Sasuke and Sarada, what were they dreaming?

'It's Sarada's seventh birthday. He wouldn't miss it for anything.' Said a voice that wasn't her conscience. Despite the absurdness of their conversation, something was drawing Sakura to the voice; it was disturbing, unsettling, or it meant something else.

Sakura gasped inwardly.

How could she have forgotten?

'It was a wintry October when you gave birth to her. Five days after Naruto's birthday, you were rushed into the hospital. This is why she is the Seventh's favorite.' 'Hehe...this is a nice coincidence. You little Uchiha, you better not grow up like your dad back in the day, alright!? Just...don't look back. Ever. Keep your eyes on the road.'

'Hey there.' Said Sasuke, lifting the newborn from the crib. His eyes were wet. 'You're going to be my girl from now on. You can have anything from me. I'm yours. You're my life, and everything I will forever be grateful for. I will cherish and love you everyday.'

Joy and pain overwhelmed Sakura. She watched closely and happily at Sarada: the girl she brought up for seven years, did everything in her care to support her. But this was all a dream, and she was yielding into it. The reality was exactly the opposite: both Sasuke and Sarada would not be home, for Sarada never shared a symmetry towards her Mother; she was always referred to as the girl version of Sasuke, which Sakura agreed to her heart's content. Come to think of it, it was breaking her heart--Sakura loved Sarada more than herself: she had changed her diapers, chopped her hair, gave her food to eat, lent her her Genin clothes, trained her (it was the longest time they got to spend with each other; for Sarada was always captivated by sharp shiny weapons, kunai specifically), taught her everything she knew. Those were the good old days. Now, she was still young, but it would appear as if a distance had grew between the two of them, like something was coming back: how was she supposed to dodge?