He offered nothing but the tilt of his head as she took the canteen from his hold, his fingers tightening around the nondescript wrapper of the rationbar for a second, before he shifted to pocket the object once more. He would not nag her to add something more solid to her frame, not when her breathing was still raspy and ragged. The carbohydrates would help, sure, seeing as it was made to increase the amount of serotonin your brain exuded; but he also knew that the simple act of chewing would be a hard ask from someone wading through the thick trickle of a night terror.
It was best to just allow her to breathe, for now, his mismatched hues flittering from her hunched shoulders to the low glow of the fire, the embers starting to splutter and subside with a lack of fresh kindle. Their squad would have to move again soon; they still needed to make their way further east.
Their target this time around was a wealthy merchant intent on capitalising all trade on Nagi Island through the means of a band of missing-nin, so letting the fire die out now, was probably for the best. He hesitated in forming the necessary seals for a Suiton however, his gaze swivelling back to the Kunoichi who was still clutching at his canteen, considering.
"...Do get them often? These dreams....?"
They have been going on back-to-back assignments for the better part of three months now, so he really shouldn't be surprised that the constant travel must be starting to wear everyone down. He'll have to make sure to insist on some down time as soon as they're back within the walls of the Hidden Leaf. It wouldn't do for his team to be picking up any more of his bad habits. @wolfdemonofkonoha
The sound of the wet stone moving against the steal echoed in the length of the room, equal breaks between every stroke. Practiced hands followed a rhythm, sure of their movement. The whole act had been ongoing for a while but it still wasn't complete, not perfect, not reaching that specific level she desired.
The blade gleamed even in the almost darkness, its sharpness being the only thing betraying its delicacy. It was a thin katana, not a common sight, but its appearance was just an illusion. A facade.
It could tear as easily through flesh and bone as it did through air when she practiced her kata. A gift...more of a defense than an offence. It kept the blood off her hands. It was a lie, a part of her knew that yet she made the rest of herself believe that the spilled blood was not on her.
The blade could be cleaned. Her hands were too tainted already.
Those stained hands continued their movement, body bowed almost, being embraced by the shadows, the darkness her sanctuary. One she had retreated to when faced with no other option.
It provided no hope. Just a reason. It was there, always to cover you and that was what Tsunade relied on. She had tried to leave. Get away from the horror, the memories, the blood. Yet as she had been about to take that step that would have turned her back to Konoha...she knew she would return eventually. This village was her curse.
There was no escape while she lived and, in that moment, she had refused to run away like a coward. If she were bound to it, she would do it on her own terms and so she had retreated to the shadows. Watching from the darkness. Her bitterness and sorrow buried beneath a mask.
ANBU had provided her the escape she had been looking for. The isolated life...few knew she was still in the village. Fewer still how to find her. She preferred it that way. Her existence was all but a memory for most now.
Finally satisfied with the sharpness, her movement slowed before stopping completely and without any further attention to it, she put it in its sheath. She wasn't even very good with a sword...but it was the only thing she fought with. Another mask she kept on.
Putting the katana beside her, she stilled as she saw a shadow appear in the door way, and grunted to indicate she had seen him. As much as she liked to be amongst the shadows, sometimes, certain portions of it stuck to you and she had yet to find a way to escape the ones that seemed to have taken a liking to her.
"Don't you have better things to do?"
Darkness was an escape from both the light and reality….but how does one escape something that is their only protection?
_______________________________
@uchihaa-itachi
Note: So I made TINY changes to it. The rest of it is what...6 years old? o_O Lets see what this can be turned into.
Summary: Raising a teenage daughter in a modern world is no small feat. For some reason, Sasuke always ends up being the one having to deal with the hard questions...and the most awkward situations.
Author’s Note: So, I had this really weird dream last night, and just had to sit down and write it down. It takes place in my crackish ANBU ‘verse. Parts 2-5 of this actually will fill a few prompts I got a while back, so it works out neatly.
Beta Reader: None yet. I’ll edit it when the whole thing is finished, and then post it as a one-shot on Ao3 and ffnet.
Warnings: M for mature subject matter being discussed and comrpomising positions that certain characters may or may not be caught in. Also, I don’t particularly ship Sarada with anyone, so over the course of this fic I pretty much stuck a bunch of names in a hat when I needed someone and went with whatever I pulled out. It made things...interesting, to say the least.
Sasuke Uchiha sits at his kitchen table, tools and rags spread before him as he examined the blade of his katana. There are several nicks near the tip that have inexplicably appeared since he last used it, and he frowns, drying to decide: Sarada or Boruto.
Between his student and his daughter he’s surprised he has any weapons left in the house, let alone slightly damaged ones.
They were taught better than this, he grumbles to himself and adjusts his glasses.
(He’s only wearing them because he’s trying to preserve the strength of his dōjutsu for the next time alien ogres attack. It has nothing to do with the fact Sakura mentioned something about finding him ‘sexy in specs’.)
SLAM!
Sasuke immediately whips his glasses off and stows them under a rag lest his sixteen-year-old daughter see him wearing them and start asking about his eyesight. At least, it has to be Sarada, judging by the not-so-dulcet stomping. She’s in her combat boot phase.
“I hate being an Uchiha!” she screams at the top of her lungs, stalking past the kitchen and down the hall. There’s another slam of the door, this time much stronger; the foundations of the house rattle, and Sasuke physically braces in case he has to make a quick escape out the window.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
When dust settles and windows stop vibrating, Sasuke takes a moment to contemplate what drama has impacted her remarkably danger-free and privileged life this time. Sarada has been more prone to bursts of temper in the past few years, the cause of which can range from Boruto making a particular fool out of their team to the lack of pockets in women’s clothing.
(He completely agrees with her on the latter; what function do fake pockets serve? Where’s a kunoichi supposed to store her shuriken?)
As usual, he debates the merits of going to check on her or waiting for her to seek him out. On the one hand, she’s his little girl and he wants to deal swiftly with anything that upsets her. On the other, he remembers Sakura at that age, and the broken bones that came along with incorrectly deciphering her tempers.
Best to wait. She’ll come out when she’s calmed down.
Like her mother, she isn’t shy about sharing how she really feels about things.
And so, Sasuke gets up and boils some water, then surreptitiously opens a new packet of black tea and cardamom biscuits on the table. Fifteen minutes later, as he steeps his own cup of tea, he hears the door to her room open and her stomp—quieter now, it seems she’s removed the boots—as she returns to the kitchen. Her face is flushed and eyes rimmed red with frustration as she slumps to the table, sits and picks up a biscuit.
She doesn’t eat it, though, so he assumes this is a more serious case than usual.
Just as he wonders if he should provide an opening line for her, she speaks.
“Papa,” she starts, not meeting his gaze and shifting uncomfortably. Classic embarrassed behaviour. Coupled with her vocal denouncement of her entire family earlier, he wonders if she’s been dealing with bullies again and who he has to pay a not-so-friendly visit to tonight. “Have you ever…I mean…did it ever happen that…did you ever accidentally…”
He takes a sip of tea, because the flustered stuttering sometimes takes a while.
“—usegenjutsuonsomeoneyouweremakingoutwith?”
The scalding tea promptly goes down the wrong tube.
Sasuke chokes and splutters in pain, eyes bugging out at Sarada in shock, because that is the absolute last question he ever expected from her.
She goes, if possible, redder than before and looks at her lap.
“I’d ask Mom, but that’d be kind of…she gets way too technical,” she trails off with a shudder. “Also, you’re the only one with a Sharingan I can ask. At least without it getting creepy, because I’m pretty sure if I asked Uncle Kakashi he’d just make me read one of those novels of his, but I already have, and none of them ever has anything to do with accidentally using genjutsu when you kiss someone.” Sasuke opens his mouth, but the words get stuck. Sarada doesn’t notice and just keeps talking. “And it’s just so frustrating, because the whole point of making out is that it’s just you and the other person and your thoughts are supposed to be out of control, but the minute I let go of my control, my stupid Sharingan took over, and the minute he looked at me, it was all over, and I just…how am I supposed to control that when I’m—”
“Stop,” Sasuke rasps, holding up a hand.
He doesn’t want to hear this. He should not be hearing this. And yet, it’s better that she’s being open with him, right? And he is the only person with a Sharingan she can ask. Even if he never accidentally used genjutsu on Sakura when they were…intimate.
Any use of genjutsu was entirely planned out and consensual.
Not that his daughter needs to know that.
Ever.
This is just…what did she say? ‘Making out?’ Making out is what, kissing? Clothes stay on. That’s not so bad. Unless he’s been out of the loop for so long it means something else. Then it’s bad. Then he might just have to kill someone.
No, best not think of that. Sarada can do her own killing. He just has to be around to dispose of the body. On that note—
“Who?” he asks.
She narrows her eyes. “Why?”
Clearly knows his previous line of thought.
“So I can tell if they’ll be brain damaged by the genjutsu. Yours is stronger than most.”
“Oh. Oh!” Now she looks worried. “You don’t think I broke Shikadai’s brain, do you? His mom would kill me if I did that.”
Shikadai. Nara’s kid. Decent genjutsu abilities, off-the charts intelligence, doesn’t like cheating and, according to Sakura’s stories, has always treated Sarada with respect.
Well, it’s not as bad as it could be.
“No, he’ll probably be fine. You dispelled the jutsu?”
“After I figured out what happened, yeah.”
“Good.”
“He was not happy with me. As if it was my plan for that to happen? Shannaro!”
Might have to talk to Shikamaru about training him better. The kid must have been really caught off-guard if he couldn’t stop Sarada’s genjutsu.
The activity that must have caused that off-guardedness makes Sasuke pick up his sword again, but now he stares at it, unseeing.
“So how do I make it stop?
He blinks. “What?”
“The genjutsu thing. How do I not activate it…you know. During?”
“Don’t ‘make out’ with boys,” he says before he can think it through. He almost uses damn air quotes.
Sarada looks thoughtful. “Okay. Girls it is then.”
Sasuke drops his sword and stares at her, because that is not what he meant at all!
But Sarada is grinning at him.
“Just kidding, Dad,” she laughs. “I know you mean it’s something I have to get control of so it doesn’t control me before I try again. It’s what you’re always saying, right?”
“About combat,” he grunts. Not…amorous pursuits. “This is…” He swallows painfully as a sudden thought occurs to him. “Sarada…do you and I need to have the Talk?”
“Oh, gods no,” she wrinkles her nose. “Mom handled that when I was six. Unless you’ve got something to add from a non-medical perspective?”
“No,” he says immediately. “Nothing.”
“Okay. Thanks!” she beams, popping the uneaten cookie in her mouth, before taking a handful of others and prancing back to her room. Crisis averted, apparently.
Sasuke stares after her and then realises he has been tearing the oil rag into bits in his hands.
It’s been fourteen years since he made himself a very serious vow, but it doesn’t matter just then.
“I need a drink.”
つづく
Thanks for reading my story! To find out more about supporting my writing endeavours, or just donating to the fund that helps feed my three furry overlords, I have a tip jar on ko-fi and a patreon account.
As you may have guessed, the relationship between Shikamaru and Hidan was strained. Since Shikamaru did not find support in his protest against the mobilization of the criminal, in peacetime he opposed restricting Hidan's freedom of movement. The Sixth Hokage accepted this idea, and for one year Hidan received a ban on leaving Konoha, and at the same time a squad of guards.
Due to the cautious attitude towards him, Hidan did not receive tasks as a Konoha's ninja for a long time. Despite his position as a jounin, he lived on the outskirts in poverty and often received refusals from employees of shops or cafes who did not want to serve the former criminal. Even the houses of the red quarter often didn’t want him as a guest.
Anyway, Hidan treated everything indifferently, didn't resent and did not file complaints, did his lil work well and soon, when Naruto took office as Hokage, he was able to receive more tasks and prove himself an excellent Shinobi of the old generation.
Summary: Kakashi always used to joke that Sarada was the best of Team 7, inheriting qualities from all of them. It’s always been clear that she inherited her parents talent and strength, but Sasuke thinks somewhere along the line, she somehow absorbed Naruto’s severe lack of judgement.
Author’s Note: So, in this alternate universe Sasuke didn’t go off on an emo trip, but he and Naruto still got Old Man Six Path’s help fighting Kaguya. So, he still has the Rinnegan.
First Chapter
It’s only coincidence that he’s near Kiri when he gets the phone call.
“Papa?”
Sarada’s voice is low and trembling, and her reversion to her childhood name for him causes him immediate concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I think I might have killed someone.”
He doesn’t ask if it was sanctioned or unsanctioned—she wouldn’t be permitted to tell him if it was the latter anyhow. Instead, his thoughts are filled with anxiety over his family’s Curse of Hatred. She’s never shown signs of being susceptible to it, but it’s dangerous to take anything like that for granted. Instead, he wants to know, “Who?”
“Um…Kagura Karatachi?”
He blinks at the name, feeling the first prickle of genuine concern. “The Seventh Mizukage?”
If she really harmed a leader of an allied nation, this could definitely be trouble.
“There was…um…a mission,” she says, and he notes that she’s still speaking quietly, as if worried she’ll be overheard. “I was sent as a diplomatic envoy and…well, I had to meet with the Mizukage and…Papa, he won’t wake up!”
“I’m on my way,” Sasuke says, already summoning chakra to power his Rinnegan.
“You’re—wait, what?”
“I’m near Kiri. You’re in the Mizukage’s office?”
“…No.”
He frowns at his phone as the portal opens before him. “Then where are you?”
“I’m…sort of…at Kagura’s house?”
Instantly he knows he’s not going to like this.
And it’s not because of the possibility of his daughter accidentally killing a public figure and causing an international incident. That’s something easily handled, a bit of false evidence and he can easily pin it on a dissatisfied faction within Kiri; he’s had to do it before on his ANBU missions, and Suigetsu owes him a favour anyhow.
Now, the reason for this sudden certainty, is because there’s no reason for Sarada to be at the Mizukage’s home at this hour, especially if she was simply on a diplomatic mission.
Judging by the lack of guards prowling the area, Kagura’s people were aware he was…entertaining.
How did this become my life?
As soon as he enters the room and takes in the sight, he knows his suspicions are true. Sarada paces back and forth, wringing her hands the same way Sakura does when she’s feeling guilty. Several feet away, a young man with ash coloured hair and a facial tattoo lays devoid of life. A sheet has been drawn up to his neck.
“What happened?” Sasuke asks, immediately crossing the room to examine the young Mizukage.
“Chidori,” Sarada replies nervously. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—but he went limp and fell backward before I even realised. I had to use CPR, and he’s breathing, but he won’t wake up and—” Sasuke kneels beside the young man, intending to check for signs of internal bleeding. “No, wait, Dad, don’t—!”
But he’s already lifted the blanket, exposing the…already exposed.
Trousers and underwear tangle around the unlucky man’s ankles, and the pattern of an electrical burn radiates upward from tip to torso. There’s also a very visible imprint of teeth he wishes to every extant god that he hadn’t seen and which he knows will haunt him until his dying day.
“—look,” Sarada finishes lamely.
Sasuke doesn’t need to look up to see her look of mortification. He’s rather certain it’s well-reflected in his own, because this is not something he’s supposed to see.
Closing his eyes and drawing the sheet up enough to cover the Mizukage’s appendage, Sasuke takes a grounding breath and counts backward from thirty. Then he proceeds to examine the—
Body. Just think of it as a body.
“So you electrocuted him,” he says eventually.
“I didn’t mean to! I was surprised and just…reacted. He pulled me hair, and I—”
“I don’t need to know,” he grunts, cutting her off. “And he’s not dead. Just passed out. He probably used all of his chakra to keep his innards from being electrocuted. You’d know that if you’d bothered to check.”
“Oh, excuse me, I was a bit busy freaking out!”
“A shinobi is in control at all times. Even when…engaging in other pursuits.”
“Oh, I’ll be sur to tell Mom that,” Sarada hisses, her waspish tone suggesting some of her attitude is breaking through her panic. “Can you just…help me fix this?”
She gestures uselessly at the unconscious Kagura.
“You’re eighteen years old. If you’re old enough to perform fellatio, you’re old enough to clean up your own mess.”
“Oh, gods, never say that again!” Sarada squeaks. “And my messes don’t usually involve international murder charges!”
“Everyone learns sometime,” Sasuke replies, standing up to leave. Then he pauses and glances back, not really wanting to keep talking about, but knowing Sakura will have his head if he doesn’t. “I’m disappointed, Sarada. You know better.”
“Dad…”
“Your mother and I have both explained why it’s important to use protection. Diseases can travel orally.” Hell, her mother has a fresh box of condoms in every bathroom of the house. Granted, they’re usually used by himself and Sakura, but Sarada has known where they are ever since the second talk they had (which, technically, Sakura performed and he just nodded and grunted at the appropriate places). “It’s important that you and your partner are protected, and not just by oral contraceptives.”
And he has never been so glad that all kunoichi are but on birth control the minute they start away-missions.
Sarada hangs her head, shoulders slumping. “I wasn’t thinking…”
“Also, considering the rubber content in most condoms, it might have protected him somewhat from the electric charge.”
Sarada’s eyes brighten in speculation. “You think?”
Realising he may have just inadvertently given her another misguided idea, he scowls. “No.”
And walks away.
Sarada says a word they both know Sakura would not approve of, and demands, “Are you seriously just going to leave me here?”
Sasuke sighs, looking heavenward.
Kakashi always used to joke that Sarada was the best of Team 7, inheriting qualities from all of them. It’s always been clear that she inherited her parents talent and strength, but he thinks somewhere along the line, she somehow absorbed Naruto’s severe lack of judgement.
“Dad?”
He shakes his head.
“No,” he tells her at last. “You’re going to keep an eye on him, and I’m going to go have a conversation with Chōjūrō.”
Hopefully the former Mizukage has a sense of humour about this and doesn’t decide to retaliate by taking a page out of the Fourth Mizukage’s book.
Then he adds, “And you are going to be the one telling your mother about this.”
If possible, Sarada looks more terrified at that prospect than facing a legion of Kiri assassins.
つづく
This is the last one from me tonight. I’ll try to get the rest of it up tomorrow before I go to my mom’s place. No way can I write something like this when my mother’s around... Hope you guys are enjoying it so far though :)
Prompt: So reading Home and Unplanned Chapter 19, I think the former would be even funnier (maybe a second chapter or alternate version?) Where Sarada accidentally sucked too hard because super strength and broke something. Sasuke confused over whether to protect Sarada from boys or protect boys from Sarada would be funny. Especially if they have no idea how to tell Naruto that their daughter accidentally broke his son's junk. Like, is that technically treason? - Anon
Author’s Note: So, I think this chapter and the one before kind of fills your prompt? It’s not in my Unplanned or Home ‘verse, but I figured it would fit better in the ANBU ‘verse because it’s kind of a crackish concept. Hope you enjoy it!
First Chapter
Sasuke returns home from a tedious and troublesome parlay in Oto around midnight. Orochimaru is as bizarre as always, megalomania tempered only slightly by his years being a parent. Mitsuki is just as weird, but Sasuke would like to think his friendship with Sarada and Boruto saved him at least the homicidal tendencies.
By the time he returns home, Sasuke is tired and hungry and desperately wants to fall into bed and sleep for a week. Not that it’ll happen, since his wife and daughter are both usually up at the crack of dawn and incapable of being quiet, but a soft mattress is still a nice change from the base of a tree.
He lets himself into the house and heads for the kitchen to fix a snack—something to tide him over until breakfast at least. There’s a note on the table from Sakura to Sarada mentioning a difficult case she’s handling and that there are leftovers in the fridge. The note ends, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch or supper. We can go out! Love Mama’ .
Obviously neither of them was expecting him back yet. He shrugs, knowing it’s his own fault, he should have called, but he dislikes using mobile phones unless he absolutely hast to. The latest models have too many features on them and he’s already set three of his on fire in his frustration at trying to just dial a number.
He’s just removing a Tupperware container of stir-fry, when he hears it. A sound coming from the direction of the bedrooms.
That sounded like a—
He hears it again and tenses.
That was a moan.
All of his muscles lock into place and his gut tightens against a looming sense of dismay. Why is there someone in his house moaning? Sakura is at work, which means—
Horror shoots through him at the exact moment his brain connects the dots, remembering the discovery he and Sakura made two years ago and the ensuing conversation. If his daughter is in her room doing that he needs to leave this house right now and—
This time the moan that echoes through the house is not the sound of his daughter, but decidedly male.
There’s a brief instant where Sasuke sees white in absolute rage and actually contemplates murder, before his good sense returns to temper him.
No. That’s not the answer.
However, Sarada’s behaviour does need to be addressed. It’s one thing to be having sex—he clearly can’t stop that from happening and it his her decision—but this is his house. He is not comfortable with her using it for secret trysts that take advantage of her parents not being here. He’d never even consider such behaviour when he was her age.
Granted, he lived alone, and he and Sakura didn’t have to find a place to have intercourse when the time was right. But still. He would never have thought it was alright to seduce her in her parents’ home. Whether they were home or not! Mebuki would kill him and make it look like a terrible accident.
Sarada’s…partner should know better.
Sasuke decides to have a few words with him, and once he learns the kid’s identity, he’s going to have a sit-down with his parents, too. He’s sure it will be more effective coming from him; Sakura is too open and friendly with matters like this, and might make lighter of it than he would.
And once that’s done, he and Sakura and Sarada are going to have a pointed conversation about boundaries.
He’s never looked forward to a conversation less.
Now the only question is…is it more effective to walk in on them now, or wait until they’re finished and covered up?
As he weighs whose embarrassment of higher priority—his own or his daughter’s, because he honestly doesn’t care about the other male party here—there’s another moan that makes him cringe.
But then it cuts off into a scream.
And it’s not the type of sound one makes in the throes of passion, but a scream of complete and utter agony.
That’s not a good noise. That’s a really, really bad noise.
“Oh, gods, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Let me help, what can I--?!”
Concerns and logic tossed to the wind, Sasuke has his sword drawn and flash-steps to the door of his daughter’s bedroom and throws open the door.
The room is a disarray of haphazardly thrown clothing and bedsheets, a box of condoms spilled open on the floor as if ripped open in a hurry. (He shudders at this). There’s a familiar figure with blond hair sprawled across his daughter’s bed, tears of pain streaming down his face and howling through gritted teeth. Sarada is crouched beside him in a panic, torn between checking on her partner and scrambling to find a sheet to cover her bare skin with.
“Dad—!”
Sasuke barely notices her squeak of mortification, too focussed on teenaged boy’s sheer suffering and the obvious reason for it.
Because…
Because it’s bent.
In the middle.
She broke Boruto’s bone.
Literally.
It would be humorous if it wasn’t his daughter doing the breaking or his student being the one broken.
“Dad, it was an accident!” Sarada cries, panicked tears running down her cheeks. “We were…and I just…and then I heard this pop, and he—”
Sasuke forces himself to think; once more he is torn between competing inclinations. Get his tearful daughter out of the room and calmed down. Kill the dobe’s idiot son. Call Sakura and demand she handle this because he really doesn’t want to.
Help the poor bastard, because there is no more painful injury for a man to have.
Sasuke grinds his teeth.
Just because his conscience is right, he doesn’t have to like it.
“Cover up,” he says. It’s not clear if he’s asking for Boruto’s or demanding them for Sarada, but either way, both requests are met. Sarada is in a long t-shirt and tosses a blanket over Boruto, because there’s no way he can get dressed in his condition.
All the while, Sarada is muttering to herself under breath.
“I give up…never again…no more boys…!”
Once he would have rejoiced at that notion, if only because he’s always been over protective of his daughter. However, in light of recent events, Sasuke begins to wonder if he’s gotten it wrong all these years. Instead of protecting Sarada from potential paramours, he should be protecting them from her.
Sasuke evaluates the situation once more, trying to decide the best way to move the little idiot, who is writhing back and forth an in danger of knocking loose the sheets.
Taking mercy on him, Sasuke leans forward and sticks him under a genjutsu; Boruto goes completely limp. It won’t take him long to break out of it, but it should offer him some relief. Once all of him is covered, Sasuke lifts him up and heads for the window.
Luckily, they live close to the hospital. Normally he’d use a portal, but he thinks in tonight’s case, the brat deserves a little jostling, even if he only feels it when he wakes up.
“Call your mother at the hospital, let her know he’ll need help,” he tells her.
“Right,” Sarada agrees faintly, her training kicking back in as her panic recedes.
Sasuke pauses then. He should contact Naruto; if something had happened to Sarada, the dobe would send out rain of toads to get Sasuke the message. Sasuke owes him at least the same courtesy. And then there’s being able to see the look on Naruto’s face when he finds out the root of all this.
Of course…Sasuke would enjoy that look a lot more if he didn’t have to explain just how the Hokage’s son came to have a broken penis.
Hm.
It seems another solution would be better.
“And then you’re going to call your Aunt Hinata and her moron husband and tell them there son is in the hospital,” he concludes firmly.
Sarada goes pale. “What? No, I can’t—!”
“They have a right to know their son is injured. And if they ask how it happened you will tell them. Consider it recompense for your…overzealousness.”
“No way! I can’t…I can’t talk to them about this!”
“You can, and you will.”
“But they don’t…they don’t know. And Boruto says they don’t, you know, talk about this stuff over there.”
Sasuke narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that something you should have discussed before you decided to have intercourse? On the off-chance that you broke something?”
“Oh, like Mama never broke anything of yours!” Sarada protests, frustrated.
“Never my penis,” he replies, which effectively stuns her into silence. He thinks it’s just his exhaustion and absolute doneness with the whole situation that prompted the snide remark, but it gives him the opportunity to slip out the window.
I’m getting too old for this, he sighs as he disappears into the night with the hapless victim of his daughter’s monstrous strength.
つづく
I realise that even the average woman has the power to break a man’s penis depending on the wrong angle or too much force…but then again, this fic was written for laughs not accuracy. I mean, come on, we know Sarada has better control than this, but…gotta love that crack!
