A sharp knock woke Sarada. She sniffed the scent of fresh bedding, opened her eyes, and jumped up. The futon was spread in the middle of an empty room. It resembled a dormitory bedroom but cleaner and much roomier. Uncle had taken her to his home to sleep, so the woman's voice from behind the paper door must be...
Grandma?
Sarada glanced at her right hand—the wound was now a light scar.
"She seems to have woken up," Uncle's voice carried from another room.
He sensed it from there? Impressive.
The sliding door panel slid aside, revealing Itachi in the gap.
"Good morning. They're waiting for you in the kitchen for breakfast."
The door closed again.
To Sarada's disappointment, Uncle wasn't in the kitchen, and she desperately needed to talk to him. An unfamiliar woman was busy at the stove. She didn't turn, so all that was left was to admire her beautiful black hair cascading down her back. At the low table sat grumpy Grandfather Fugaku, eating breakfast.
Sarada greeted timidly:
"Good morning."
Grandfather nodded silently and continued eating his rice. Grandma turned. Though "grandma" was just the word, because Uchiha Mikoto turned out to be a young woman.
She's so beautiful.
"You're awake," Mikoto smiled. "Breakfast is ready. Sit down, make yourself at home."
Sarada knelt before the dining table.
"How's the hand?" Fugaku asked dryly.
"It's fine, thank you."
"Good."
They continued breakfast in silence. Grandfather finished his rice and coughed, unsure how to start an awkward conversation with a strange child.
"We're very sorry about the tragedy in your family. You lost your mother."
Sarada looked up at him in surprise but quickly realized he wasn't talking about her real mom, but the woman Itachi had invented last night. Still, Grandfather's words touched a fresh wound and revived memories of her real mother. Sarada sadly stared at her plate.
"Our condolences," Grandfather continued coldly. "The family has discussed and decided you'll live with us."
Sarada couldn't believe her ears. This felt like a fairy tale. She'd live in her real family's house? No returning to the dormitory?
Uncle's lie had taken deep root, and very quickly. Her soul was suddenly filled with turmoil. Sarada sensed a serious talk brewing between her and Itachi, and she had no idea what to say.
"You won't have to work. Itachi already went to your old job to announce your departure."
"It'll be awkward with Shinko; she was so kind to me," Sarada thought embarrassedly. "Maybe I should have talked to her myself instead of sending Itachi."
And yet she was partly glad Uncle would handle her dismissal.
"It's too late to go to the academy now, I suppose. Though I don't know your skills..."
"I... tried," Sarada faltered.
She couldn't very well tell Grandpa she'd already graduated—in the future.
"Fugaku-san, can I be a shinobi?"
Grandfather closed his eyes.
"Itachi said you awakened the Sharingan. Not every clan member can do that, so it depends on your skills. You'll continue training with Itachi. If my son deems you worthy, in time I can raise the question of accepting you into the Military Police."
Sarada hadn't expected that at all. The Leaf's Military Police... Why not, it'd be interesting to work there. But "in time"—how many years?
The wave... I don't know when the next wave will be. I don't know how much time I have.
Sarada bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your kindness!"
"What people! You've been coming around a lot, yeah?"
"Hi. I'm here on business."
Shinko eyed him curiously.
"Sarada won't be working at the teahouse anymore."
"Wha?"
"She's an Uchiha," Itachi continued calmly. "Her parents have accepted her into our family and believe she should devote herself to training."
Shinko suddenly beamed.
"You're not upset?" Itachi said in surprise.
"I knew she was one of yours. You two look like brother and sister."
Itachi flushed slightly. Shinko kept smiling.
"And yes, I'm happy she has a family now," she sighed a bit sadly. "Though I'm a little sorry; I'd gotten used to her, yeah. Such a sweet girl?"
"Shinko, see you," Itachi said patiently.
His former teammate smiled slyly and shouted after him, cupping her hands like a megaphone:
"Say hi to Sarada!"
A dark-haired whirlwind burst into the kitchen, bow in hand and quiver of arrows on his back.
"Mom, Mom, nii-san..."
Spotting Sarada, the boy instantly lost all enthusiasm and hesitated uncertainly at the door. Sarada nearly choked. A tiny copy of Dad stared at her in surprise, glancing from father to her, her to mom, and back to father.
Gods, it's Dad.
If she'd recognized Mom instantly by her hair color, Dad differed from his adult self so strikingly that Sarada didn't immediately realize it was her father standing there.
His gaze was different. Not hard and cold. The little Sasuke's black eyes shifted between wariness and confusion. Naive, pure... Not the hardened stern man who had spoken to her of pain and Sharingan, clan and Leaf, strength and future.
"Mom..." he mumbled again.
"Come here, Sasuke," Fugaku ordered.
He approached the table uncertainly.
"Meet Sarada. She lost her family and will live with us. Consider her your sister and treat her kindly."
Her heart sank. Sarada touched her nervously twitching eyelid. Mom didn't see it. Nanadaime... Well, Nanadaime might not remember, though it was hard to believe.
But Dad. So I'd be both daughter and stepsister to him?
Little Sasuke glanced at her a bit jealously. A new child in the family—a new rival for parents' attention. Sarada had been the only daughter, and hadn't seen Dad since early childhood. Family dynamics in a full home, with father breakfasting every day and a little brother, were hard for her.
"Hi," Sarada said weakly, raising her hand.
"Hi," Dad replied automatically.
He studied her with a gaze conveying inexplicable mixed emotions.
"Mom, where's nii-san?"
"Itachi went to the village; he'll be back soon."
"He promised to play with me!" Sasuke complained discontentedly.
"So that's how it is, Dad? You loved playing games as a kid," Sarada thought angrily.
She was still a bit mad at her father.
And still, why didn't Dad ever tell me about Uncle?
Rustling sounded in the entryway, and Sasuke bolted.
"Nii-san!"
His bare heels thudded dully on the wooden floor.
"Sarada, Itachi is free today," Fugaku announced. "Go to him too. You two have much to discuss about training."
"Hai."
Sarada obediently followed her father, thinking: "Training is the last thing Uncle and I need to discuss. Unfortunately."
Itachi stood at the threshold, shoes still on. Little Dad crashed into him, hugged his waist, and buried his nose in his stomach:
"Nii-san, let's play!"
Itachi ruffled his hair.
"Sorry, Sasuke."
Dad disappointedly pulled away from his big brother.
"Next time."
Itachi poked his forehead with two fingers.
"Ow!" Sasuke winced and backed away.
Sarada froze, mesmerized by the familiar gesture.
From uncle to dad, dad to mom, mom to me...
She unconsciously touched her forehead, as if a bit of Uncle's warmth could reach her through the chain of pokes from person to person. With this gesture, family members passed their love—Sarada had realized that now, but Sasuke apparently hadn't yet. He angrily rubbed his forehead and grumbled:
"But you promised!"
"I'm busy. I need to talk to Sarada."
Little Dad turned to her.
"That look," Sarada thought. "He already hates me."
And that thought suddenly amused her. Jealous Dad, envious of his big brother to his future daughter. Who'd have thought.
"Come on, Sarada."
She sat on the threshold edge, slipped on her sandals, and followed Uncle out.
The Uchiha district was bustling. Sarada curiously eyed passersby with clan crests on their backs, banners with the white-red fan. Such a mighty clan. How could it be gone?
At Naka Shrine, Uncle turned into the woods. They went as far from crowded areas as possible. Finally, Itachi stopped.
"Now we talk."
His gaze and voice turned icy in an instant, and Sarada nervously swallowed. Before her was that Itachi from the genjutsu again. Ruthless and decisive. Not the kind big brother flicking his little brother's forehead.
"You lied," Sarada decided to strike first. "You saved me—why?"
"You have the Sharingan. I didn't want the clan's dojutsu in outsider hands."
It suddenly hurt. The picture of a happy family, training with Uncle, joining the Military Police shattered like glass from a broken photo frame. Uncle had saved not her, but the clan kekkei genkai.
"In that case, you're too late," Sarada snapped viciously.
Itachi looked at her uncomprehendingly and asked warily:
"What do you mean?"
"Danzou already has one. Before torturing me, he tried putting me under genjutsu. Under bandages in his right eye, he hides a Sharingan."
Itachi's face darkened.
"That's bad. Don't tell anyone else, got it?"
Sarada nodded firmly.
"Alright, my turn. Who are you?"
She sighed. Her head went vacuum-empty, where crickets chirped steadily like a quiet summer evening.
What are you going to do now?
"Sarada," Itachi called.
She met his eyes.
"Tell the truth. It's the only thing that can convince me."
"You won't believe it anyway," Sarada replied sadly. "So..."
"Just tell the truth. What's your name?"
"Uchiha Sarada."
Easy. And a pointless question—everyone knew about the Sharingan now.
"Who's your mother?"
"Haruno Sakura."
Assume you don't even suspect a pink-haired kid exists, and the name means nothing to you.
Itachi nodded.
"Who's your father?"
Sarada looked down at the ground.
"The truth," Uncle's voice demanded.
"Uchiha... Sasuke."
Silence. A bird chirped far off in the woods. Wind rustled leaves faintly.
The edge. Point of no return. Now you can say anything. He won't believe a single word.
"In your time... is it peaceful?"
"What?"
Sarada stared at Itachi in shock.
"The truth," the voice reminded.
But no longer icy—soft.
"You believe me?"
"Yes."
"But..." Sarada faltered.
She still expected a trick from the strange uncle.
"So, is it peaceful?"
Uncle desperately wanted the answer.
"Yes. Peaceful. After the Fourth..."
Itachi gestured to cut her off.
"I don't need to know that. I've already heard what was important to me. So that's why you're so...
He suddenly smiled faintly. It was very strange to see a smile on his perpetually impassive face. Uncle seemed surprised by it himself and quickly restored his former mask.
"So what?"
"S... " he faltered. "Soft."
Sarada frowned offendedly.
"You wanted to say "weak.""
"Yes," Itachi admitted honestly.
What was there to take offense at? He was right, after all.
"And I'm glad your world allowed you to stay that way until your age. You had a childhood."
He started smiling again, but suppressed the new smile faster than the first.
"But how did you end up with us?"
And then Sarada burst out. She didn't know how to start, but once she did, she told her uncle everything: from beginning to end. About her father, and about her mother's death. About the stone baba on the way to the cemetery, about the deity and its theories. About the wave, about her fears and hopes.
Deep shock reflected on Itachi's face. Sarada didn't know what made him believe this insane story at all, but her version clearly differed from what the genius uncle had already imagined for himself.
"And now I don't know what to do. How to save mom and how not to disrupt the course of history. And how to save... the clan."
"The clan?" he frowned.
"In the future, Dad and I are the last Uchiha."
Itachi opened his mouth in surprise. Through the broken mask of his indifference broke bitterness, bewilderment, and annoyance.
"Why did you say that," he said quietly. "I wasn't supposed to know."
"Spoilers?" Sarada smiled sadly.
Yes, Uncle had asked her not to tell him about the future. But she couldn't not say it. Sarada had already realized she couldn't handle it alone; she needed help. At least advice. She had no confidence in her own decisions, and it seemed like Itachi would point out what to do once and for all.
"What does "spoilers" mean?"
"Uh..."
What she was used to from childhood was a novelty to Uncle.
"It's when someone tells you what happened in the new episode of a series you haven't watched yet."
"What's a "series"?" Itachi clarified calmly.
Sarada slapped her forehead with her hand.
"Just forget it."
"Okay."
"About the clan..."
Uncle winced as if she'd touched a fresh wound.
"I don't know what happened. You seem so strong. There are so many of you. I can't imagine what..."
"If you interfere, everything will go wrong, and your peaceful time might turn into hell."
"Uncle," Sarada didn't even notice how the word slipped out. "How don't you understand? I'm already here. Everything will already be different just because I exist."
Itachi flinched at the word "uncle." Indeed, it was unusual for a peer to call him that.
"No, I understand. That's the point," he looked into her eyes. "Even though you're here, don't try to change at least the key points of history. If the deity didn't lie, then parallel to our reality, others exist. And in some of them, you're probably already dead."
"What?" Sarada squeezed out in horror.
"Realities where each of us made a different choice. For example, you decided to lie to me. Or I... decided not to believe you.
****
His palms habitually rested on the hot cup with Japanese women.
"It's about time to eat," the deity thought.
But it had no time, so it had to drown the hunger with sweet tea.
It couldn't get distracted. The worlds were splitting left and right.
Donna was reviewing all possible variants of event development, and they were unfolding in the worst way for Sarada. In most world clones, the girl died. Tortured to death in the Root's dungeons somewhere. At her uncle's hands in others. But amid the grim variety of deaths, there was one clone where random encounters gave rise to a completely unusual world picture.
The deity focused its attention on it. It was the most interesting world to observe. Because it was in this world and its derivatives that Uchiha Itachi believed.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan