The Reunion (Part I)
Chapter 7: The Reunion (Part I)
The air was thick with heat and anxiety, pressing in on Konohamaru as he continued his desperate attempts at rescue breathing. Sarada’s small body lay motionless, her feverish skin burning against his palms. The sound of rushing water from the river, now distant, was drowned out by the frantic pounding of his own heart. Every second felt like an eternity.
His lips met hers again, pressing against the warmth of her fevered skin. He could feel her fragile chest against his, but there was no response. No breath. His pulse quickening with the thought of losing her. He pressed his lips to hers again, his hands trembling as he forced his breath into her. His lungs burned with the effort, but he didn’t falter. He couldn’t. He refused to believe that this was the end.
The seconds stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity. But then, something changed. It was faint, almost imperceptible at first. The tiniest shift, the faintest breath. His chest caught in his throat as Sarada’s chest rose just a fraction—barely enough for him to register it. Her pulse, weak and erratic. Her body was too still, but there was life there.
“She’s breathing,” Moegi whispered relieved. Her hands trembled as she looked down at Sarada’s frail form. "It’s shallow, but she’s breathing."
Konohamaru didn’t move, his fingers still resting gently on Sarada’s chest. His heart was still in his throat, but the rush of relief was overwhelming. Slowly, carefully, he pulled back, his eyes never leaving her face.
Udon crouched beside them, his eyes scanning the girl’s body with practised concern. “Her fever’s still too high,” he murmured, his voice low with urgency. “We need to get it down, or she’s not going to make it.”
Konohamaru nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he looked at the state Sarada was in. The heat from her body was unbearable, and yet they were still so far from help. The distant hope that had flared for a moment now felt frail, too delicate to hold onto. His mind raced, searching for any solution that could save her.
Moegi quickly wet a cloth and pressed it to Sarada’s forehead, watching her with worried eyes. “It’s not enough. We’re not getting anywhere. She’s not sweating, she’s dehydrated,” Moegi muttered, the realization chilling her more than the cold towels ever could.
“But we can’t give her fluids here," Udon said, his voice strained. “We’re too far from the village. She needs help, and fast.”
“We have to move her,” Konohamaru said, his voice tight with urgency. “She can’t stay here like this. We need to get her to Konoha. Fast. Udon, look for something to splint her leg, we can’t move her if we don’t stabilize that leg.”
Udon nodded, his face pale but determined. Without another word, he began searching for sticks, pulling them from the underbrush. The sharp snap of wood echoed in the tense air.
When Udon came back and began preparing the sticks, Moegi was analyzing how they could move her leg. She was afraid of hurting Sarada, but they had no choice if they wanted to get back home.
Before she could act, Udon sat next to Sarada to start a procedure none of them wanted to perform, a procedure they knew would be excruciatingly painful. Udon used one hand to stabilize Sarada’s injured leg while his other hand gently grasped her ankle. Then, with deliberate, precise movements, he began to realign the leg. Each movement was calculated and painful to watch. Sarada’s leg was twisted unnaturally, and the process of stabilizing it made her body jerk slightly in response, though she remained unresponsive. Her face was deathly pale, her lips dry, and her body so cold despite the fever still raging inside her.
Moegi turned herself. She didn’t want to see Sarada’s suffering. When she heard Udon’s movements, she began to cry softly at the nightmare Sarada had just suffered. On the contrary, Konohamaru could only watch as Udon worked, the grim reality settling deeper into his bones. Sarada hadn’t shown any signs of consciousness for what felt like hours, and the silence of her stillness was a weight that pressed on them all.
“We should store the raft and the cage,” Moegi added, her voice barely above a whisper as she crouched beside the steel structure that had once held Sarada prisoner. “It might have information. We can’t just leave it here.”
Her words snapped Konohamaru from his thoughts, and he nodded stiffly, the task at hand momentarily taking precedence over the overwhelming worry gnawing at him. Moegi carefully rolled the raft into a scroll, a small, cylindrical form appearing in her hands as she sealed it away. She moved quickly, storing it out of sight, though her eyes never left Sarada.
Once Udon finished, Sarada's broken leg was immobilized to prevent any more damage. Two long, sturdy sticks were placed along either side of her leg. The sticks were secured tightly with strips of fabric, creating a rigid framework to keep her leg in place. The cloth was knotted in a way that wouldn’t cut off her circulation, but it was tight enough to provide some stability. It wasn't the most comfortable setup, but it was enough to stabilize her leg so that they could transport her back to Konoha for proper treatment.
It was then that two more ninken appeared, moving quickly through the underbrush with the swiftness only trained canines possessed. Akino and Uhei arrived after having met up with Pakkun. Their presence was a welcome relief, though the tension in the air remained palpable.
“We’re here,” Akino barked, his tail flicking in a manner that belied the concern in his tone. “Pakkun informed us about Sarada. How is she?”
Konohamaru’s throat tightened as he turned to face the ninken. “She’s alive… barely. Her pulse is weak, and she’s not responding. We can’t wait for help to arrive here, so we are thinking of moving her on our own. We have splinted her leg, so she is ready to get back home.”
Uhei’s eyes narrowed, his sharp nose twitching as he sniffed the air, his gaze flicking to Sarada’s still form. “We’ll help you get her to Konoha.”
Just as he finished speaking, Konohamaru’s heart dropped. Sarada’s chest, which had been rising and falling so faintly moments before, stilled. Her breathing faltered—once, twice—before it completely stopped. Panic surged through Konohamaru’s chest, and before he could even think, his hands were on her, tilting her head back again. He forced air into her lungs, his heart racing with terror.
“Not now… not again,” Moegi whispered while Konohamaru pressed his lips to Sarada’s, his breath growing ragged with the effort.
The seconds stretched on, and with each one, the panic in his chest grew. But then, after five breaths, her chest rose once more. It was shallow, barely there, but she was breathing again.
Konohamaru’s breath left him in a shaky exhale as he gently eased her back down, his fingers still resting on her frail body, feeling her pulse. “She’s breathing again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But we need to get her to a medical team immediately.”
Udon, who had been silently observing, was the first to react. “We must move now. We can’t wait any longer.”
Konohamaru nodded, his heart in his throat as he looked at Sarada. “Let’s go.”
---
The journey was slow but steady as they began to move through the dense forest, Sarada’s body carefully cradled by Konohamaru. Her breathing was still too shallow, too weak to give them comfort. Konohamaru’s eyes never left her face, his fingers lightly tracing her pulse every few moments.
As they got closer to Konoha, a massive surge of chakra suddenly washed over them. A powerful, overwhelming presence in the air. Konohamaru froze for a moment, feeling the sheer force of it. Then, a massive figure appeared in the sky. The silhouette of the Susanoo loomed high, its form glowing with energy, casting a shadow that made even the air feel heavier. The unmistakable figure of Sasuke Uchiha landed before them, his gaze sharp, his expression unreadable. But there was no mistaking the deep pain that flickered in his eyes when they landed on Sarada’s unconscious form.
“Sarada…” Sasuke’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but it carried with it a weight that made the air around them heavy. His eyes swept over her, scanning every bruise, every cut, every mark on her fragile body, the damage so visible that it was almost too much to bear. His movements were stiff, almost reluctant as if the very sight of his daughter in such a condition made it hard for him to breathe. “Is she…?” Sasuke’s voice was strained, the question thick with fear.
“She’s alive,” Konohamaru said quickly. “But barely.”
His stump tensed at his side as he got next to her. The lack of the left arm was a constant reminder of the pain he had endured, and now, it seemed as if that very pain was connected to the anguish in his chest as he gently caressed Sarada’s hair.
Konohamaru watched the scene with a deep, aching sympathy. Sasuke was no stranger to the weight of responsibility, but this… this was different. Sarada was his daughter. And she was broken—just as he had once been.
I’m sorry, Sasuke thought. His eyes never left Sarada’s pale face as his fingers continued brushing against the damp strands of her hair. I should have been here. I should have protected you.
The guilt, raw and suffocating, washed over him in waves. His heart clenched painfully, his throat tightening as memories of Sarada, as a baby, filled his mind. His gaze dropped to her small face, now so bruised and battered, and a flood of memories overtook him—moments he hadn’t allowed himself to think about in years.
---
He was sitting on the floor of the Uchiha household, his back pressed against the wall. A tiny bundle of red swaddling clothes was nestled in his arms. Sarada. His little girl. Her tiny fingers grasped weakly at his shirt as she cooed, her wide, curious eyes staring up at him, her face scrunched in concentration as if she were trying to make sense of the world around her. Sasuke’s heart ached with a warmth he hadn’t known existed. He had always been alone—until now. Until Sarada.
Her first word had been “dada.” It had been a fragile, breathy utterance, and at first, Sasuke had thought it was just a coincidence. But then it came again, louder, clearer—“Dada.” His heart had swelled in that moment, the bond he felt with her so strong, so immediate, it overwhelmed him.
“Dada.”
It was all she had said at that moment, but it was enough. His mind had been flooded with a rush of emotions. How could he have known, then, that this tiny person in his arms would grow to be the most important thing in his life?
He remembered watching her take her first steps, his one arm stretched out as she tottered toward him, her small body unsteady but determined. Sasuke’s heart had skipped a beat when she reached him, the first steps of her life leading her right into him.
I’ve got you, he had whispered, though he never spoke the words aloud. The promise had been in his gaze, in his hand that gently held her, steadying her. I’ll always be here.
---
The memory was bittersweet, flooding Sasuke with the grief of missed moments, of days spent apart, of years that he could never get back. Every moment he hadn’t been there for her felt like a weight on his chest, pressing him down into the earth.
I wasn’t here for you, Sasuke thought. His eyes burned with the weight of his guilt. I left you… I left you and your mother alone.
His right hand clenched into a fist at his side, a futile motion. He couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t change the fact that he’d been away, on missions for the Kages, focusing on his responsibilities as a shinobi while his daughter grew up without him. It was a choice he’d made, and now, it was one he had to live with.
But looking at her now, in this state, it was clear to him: he had failed her. He had failed the one person he had promised to protect above all else.
“I should have been here,” he said again, this time louder, as if saying it once more would somehow make it true. He then moved closer to Konohamaru and took Sarada’s limp form into his arm, as he felt the need to be in contact with her.
Konohamaru, Udon, Moegi and the ninken watched in silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between them. The bond between Sasuke and Sarada was undeniable, and it was clear that Sasuke was struggling with his own demons at that moment. They had seen him as the cold, distant Uchiha, the one who pushed people away, but now, before them, was the father. The father who was tormented by his absence, who would give anything to turn back time and be there for his daughter when she needed him the most.
Moegi stepped forward, her voice soft yet steady. “She’s alive, Sasuke-san,” she said, her tone gentle, trying to soothe his guilt. “You’re here now. You’re here and you can help her.”
Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward her, the smallest glimmer of gratitude in his gaze. He nodded silently, and then, without another word, he stood, moving with urgency. His mind was focused solely on Sarada’s survival. There was no room for his guilt now. His daughter needed him. He could save her. He would save her.
He then proceeded to use Susanoo again to transport all of them home. Even though that could severely deplete his chakra reserves, he had to save his daughter and that was the fastest way to get to Konoha so that she could get medical assistance. As the Susanoo moved toward Konoha, Sasuke’s grip on Sarada tightened, his one arm cradling her with an unspoken promise. No more distance, no more years lost. I would protect you. Always.