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The doors to the Hokage’s office slammed open with a bang , rattling the paper walls and nearly sending a stack of folders tumbling off the desk.
Shikamaru and Sai both looked up from their work, startled. Shikamaru had a mission form halfway filled out, pen hovering in the air. Sai’s brush paused mid-stroke over a sealing document.
Sasuke strode in like a thundercloud wrapped in black fabric, cloak flaring behind him, jaw set. His Sharingan wasn’t active, but his glare alone felt sharp enough to cut through steel.
Neither of them said a word.
Sasuke’s voice sliced through the quiet. “Where’s Naruto?”
Shikamaru yawned.
“Got called home. Something about a family emergency. Said he’d be back in an hour.”
Sasuke didn’t pause. “Good. That means you can authorize it.”
“Authorize what?”
Sasuke turned to Sai. “As you’re present... I’m requesting a four-man ANBU squad for a classified assassination mission. Immediate deployment.”
“Alright, hold on. You can’t just walk in here and demand a hit like it’s a lunch order.” Shikamaru stopped him halfway.
Sasuke’s jaw clenched.
“It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment,” The man with the goatee added quickly, “but this kind of request usually comes with details. Intel. Authorization. A briefing, maybe?”
Sai set his brush down, expression unreadable but alert.
“I don’t need a briefing,” Sasuke said flatly. “I need a clean team. Fast.”
Shikamaru exhaled. “Right. And what exactly are you trying to solve with an assassination squad?”
Sasuke’s fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his cloak rustling as his whole body bristled. His voice came out low and dangerous.
“The bastard who touched my daughter.”
Shikamaru’s brows shot up. “Touched—?”
He paused, piecing it together.
“…What happened, Sasuke?”
Sasuke took a breath through his nose, visibly restraining himself. “Sarada’s pregnant.”
Another silence dropped into the room like a kunai.
Shikamaru muttered, “Shit.”
Sai looked mildly surprised.
Shikamaru dragged a hand down his face. “Sasuke… wasn’t this supposed to be resolved calmly ? You know—like a normal parent?”
Sasuke didn’t answer right away. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow, tight breath.
Shikamaru pressed, more cautiously now, “Well, who exactly are you trying to assassinate? Have you even pinpointed anyone yet?”
There was a pause. Sasuke’s jaw worked, eyes flickering for a moment—not with hesitation, but frustration.
“I don’t have a name,” he muttered. “She’s still crying at home.”
Shikamaru stared at him, deadpan. “You’re requesting an assassination mission… without a confirmed target.”
“I will get a name,” Sasuke said coldly. “And when I do, I’ll carve it into the mission scroll myself.”
Sai quietly slid the ANBU request forms a few inches farther out of Sasuke’s reach.
“It might help to speak to her again once she’s calmer.“ He spoke up for the first time since the confession. “Statistically speaking, it’s most likely someone from her peer group… perhaps a teammate. Or a close family friend.”
Sasuke turned his head slightly, eyes sharp.
“It better not be one of your sons,” he said coldly, looking between them. “Because I swear, I’ll kill them both.”
Shikamaru raised his hands slowly. “Alright, let’s not jump to—”
“Inojin is a well-known playboy,” Sasuke cut in, turning his glare on Sai. “I’ve seen him flirt with three different girls at a single gathering.”
“What?”
Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, but Inojin’s not exactly Sarada’s type—”
“And your kid,” Sasuke pivoted without missing a beat, “acts like a quiet genius, but looks can be deceiving.”
“Shikadai?” Shikamaru stiffened.
“Silent. Calculated. Just like his father,” Sasuke said coolly. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he did it and thought no one would find out.”
Sai coughed lightly. “That seems… a bit paranoid of you.”
“If it’s either of them, I will know. And when I do—”
The door creaked open behind them.
Naruto stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. His cloak hung loosely off one shoulder. His tie was crooked. His hair looked like he’d stuck his head out the window and given up halfway.
“Man… sorry, that took longer than—”
He stopped, blinking at the sight before him.
Sasuke stood near the desk, radiating pure murder. Shikamaru looked like he regretted ever waking up this morning. Sai had somehow managed to scoot his chair a few inches farther back without anyone noticing.
“...Why does it feel like I just walked into an interrogation room?”
“We’re, uh… dealing with a situation.”
Sasuke’s eyes locked onto Naruto.
“…Okay,” Naruto said slowly, raising a hand. “Sasuke. Buddy. Whatever it is, let’s… let’s not kill anyone today, alright?”
The air buzzed with tension.
Naruto exhaled. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for whatever this is. I’ve had a long morning, Hinata’s been throwing tofu at the wall, and I just dealt with something I really didn’t want to deal with before I even had my coffee.”
Sasuke didn’t say a word, but his glare sharpened.
Naruto ran a hand down his face. “I came home to what was supposed to be a quiet breakfast and instead found out that my son —” he paused, emphasizing the word with a twitch of his brow “—has apparently gotten a girl pregnant. ”
Shikamaru visibly flinched.
“So believe me when I say—whatever you’re about to yell at me for? Just… don’t.”
There was a beat of dead silence. Then Sasuke took a slow, lethal step forward. His cloak shifted with the motion, dark and heavy. The air in the room thickened as his chakra flared—not wild, but sharp and suffocating, like a drawn blade pressed just beneath the skin.
Naruto straightened slightly, instincts kicking in. “Sasuke…?”
The Uchiha’s eyes hadn’t changed, but his silence was more dangerous than any shouting. He was looking at Naruto now—not just looking , but pinning him in place with a gaze so cold it felt personal.
Naruto’s stomach dropped.
“…Wait,” he said cautiously, pointing at him. “This isn’t about Boruto, is it?”
Sasuke didn’t answer.
The chakra flared again, more concentrated now.
Naruto’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” he breathed, palling. He took a slow step back, color draining from his face.
“Don’t tell me it’s Sarada.”
Sasuke’s silence said everything.
***
Sarada sat curled up on the couch, knees drawn to her chest, face buried in trembling hands. Her glasses sat on the coffee table beside a half-used tissue box. Her shoulders shook with each breath, the kind of crying that came from deep in the chest—the kind that didn’t stop even when there were no tears left.
Sakura sat beside her, one arm gently draped across her daughter’s back, rubbing slow circles in that familiar motherly rhythm. Her face was calm, but her eyes were red at the edges.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” Sarada choked, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for this to happen…”
“I know,” Sakura said softly. “I know, sweetheart.”
Sarada pulled away slightly, voice rising with panic. “I’ve ruined everything. I’m supposed to be a kunoichi, I’m supposed to lead a team someday—and now look at me! I’m just… I’m just a failure.”
“Stop that,” Sakura said gently, but firmly.
“I am!” Sarada cried. “A failure—and an embarrassment. What if Papa never looks at me the same again?”
Sakura reached for her, brushing sweaty strands of hair from her forehead. “Your father loves you.”
Sarada shook her head, curling tighter.
“He stormed out,” she whispered. “The second I told him… he didn’t even say a word. Just stood there for a second and then left.” Her voice cracked. “He didn’t even look at me.”
Sakura’s hand stilled on her back.
Sarada stared at the floor, eyes glassy. “He must be devastated. Disgusted. I’ve never seen him like that before."
Sakura opened her mouth to respond—but then the front door swung open with a loud slam , startling them both.
Footsteps pounded in.
Sarada sat bolt upright just as a very angry Sasuke marched into the living room, a familiar figure dangling by the back of his collar like a sack of laundry.
“Get in,” Sasuke snapped, shoving Boruto Uzumaki forward with a rough nudge between the shoulder blades.
Boruto stumbled into the room, pale as a ghost, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t remember how to form a single word. His hair was a mess—like he’d run through a storm—and his jacket hung off one shoulder, half-zipped in his rush. His usually confident posture had collapsed into something smaller, unsure.
Naruto entered a second later, sweaty and panting, hands raised in tired defeat. “Sasuke, please , I’m begging you—can we just talk first? No jutsu. No swords. Let’s not do this in your living room—”
“I-I’m not… running,” Boruto said, voice trembling despite how hard he tried to hold it together.
Everyone turned.
Boruto straightened a little, swallowing hard. His eyes flicked to Sarada, then to Sakura, and finally locked on Sasuke. “I’m not running,” he repeated. “We—we agreed. She was going to talk to her parents, and I’d talk to mine. We just… didn’t expect things to blow up this fast.”
Sasuke stared at him, unmoving. The room pulsed with tension.
“You don’t have to drag me. I’m not hiding from this.”
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, something unreadable flickered across his face—surprise, maybe. The hint of being caught off guard by Boruto’s words.
But it passed in a heartbeat.
His jaw tightened, and his glare returned sharper than steel, colder than any blade. He took a slow step forward, shadows trailing in his wake like a storm cloud tightening its grip.
“I thought,” Sasuke said, voice low and full of venom, “your father raised you better than this.”
Boruto flinched, as if the words themselves had weight. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t argue.
Sasuke’s eyes bore into him, dark with anger and something more fragile buried deep—betrayal, fear, disbelief.
“You think being brave means knocking up my daughter and standing in my living room like it makes you a man?” he hissed. “You think honor is saying ‘I’m not running’ after you’ve already destroyed her future?”
Naruto stepped forward quickly. “Sasuke—”
“I know I can’t undo it,” Boruto continued, shoulders trembling. “I know I messed up—and if I could take back the fear I put in her, or the shame she’s feeling right now, I would. But I can’t.”
He glanced briefly at Sarada—still curled on the couch beside her mother, tear-streaked and silent—then forced himself to keep going.
“But I love her. I really do.“
Hearing his words, Sarada suddenly stood, a choked sob catching in her throat. In two stumbling steps, she threw herself into Boruto’s arms.
He caught her, startled, his balance nearly tipping with the force of her embrace. Her face buried into his chest, and she broke—loud, shaking sobs wracking her body as her fingers clutched the fabric of his jacket like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.
Boruto held her, arms wrapping around her without hesitation. He said nothing but let her cry.
Sakura rose to her feet beside them, gently placing a hand on Sarada’s back, then looked to her husband. Her voice was firm but quiet.
“There’s no need to press on this further with violence, Anata.” she said to Sasuke, her gaze steady. “What’s done is done. What matters now is how we move forward.”
Sasuke didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, and his eyes locked onto the two figures embracing in his living room like it was the last place in the world he ever wanted to see them.
His hands curled at his sides, knuckles pale with restrained fury. But then Sakura stepped closer—close enough that her presence alone softened the jagged edge of his rage. Her eyes met his again, steady, unwavering. A quiet plea lived in their depths.
He’d seen that look before.
Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his head away—not in surrender, but in exhausted restraint. His chakra, once tense and coiled like a drawn blade, slowly receded.
Boruto still holding Sarada’s hand as she leaned heavily into his side, her sobs quieting into hiccups. He looked back over his shoulder toward the living room, voice low and slightly hoarse.
“Um… if it’s okay,” he said, eyes darting to Sakura, then Naruto, and finally—hesitantly—to Sasuke, “I’d like to talk to her. Just us. Just for a bit.”
Sakura gave a gentle nod, brushing a hand over her daughter’s shoulder in silent reassurance.
Sasuke didn’t respond. He didn’t move. But the lack of protest was answer enough.
With that, Boruto gave a small, grateful bow. Then he guided Sarada the rest of the way down the hallway and into her room, the door clicking shut behind them.
And once again, the three adults were left in the living room.
Naruto sank onto the nearest couch with a long, heavy exhale, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I swear… that was the longest day of my life.”
Sakura sat back, brushing her hair behind her ear, voice quiet but sure. “I saw this coming, honestly… the two of them getting married someday. I’ve thought about it more than once.”
Sasuke shot her a glare so sharp it could’ve cut steel.
Naruto raised both hands. “Hey, hey—Sasuke… Come on. Everything’s alright now. They’re young, yeah, but it’s not the end of the world.”
Sasuke didn’t answer.
Instead, in one smooth, silent motion, he reached behind his back—blade flashing in the low light—and drew his sword out of its sheath.
The tip now hovered at Naruto’s throat.
Naruto didn’t move, just stared, sweat already beading at his temple.
“I’m still angry,” Sasuke said, voice low and razor-sharp. “And I need somewhere to put it.”