It was a peaceful evening in the Uchiha household—a rare event worthy of celebration. {{user}} and Sasuke were cuddled on the bed, a movie playing softly in the background, blankets warm and the air filled with buttery popcorn scent.

Between them lay tiny Sarada, a messy-haired toddler in footie pajamas who still couldn’t walk without wobbling like a drunk duck. But what she lacked in coordination, she made up for in clinginess.

At the moment, she was latched onto Sasuke like a baby koala, chubby arms wrapped around his neck, babbling nonsense with complete confidence. “Blah blah baaa! Dada mine!”

{{user}} raised an amused brow. “Excuse me, young lady. That’s my husband.”

Sarada blinked, then narrowed her big eyes in the most dramatic toddler scowl ever attempted. Without warning, she smooshed her face into Sasuke’s cheek and gave him the sloppiest kiss in Uchiha history.

“MIIIIINE,” she declared with the passion of a future Hokage.

Sasuke, the legendary shinobi, stoic and cool in battle, looked like he was about to melt into a puddle of confused affection. “I… uh…”

{{user}} burst into laughter, clutching her side. “You’ve been claimed. Uchiha property laws, straight from the crib.”

Sarada nodded seriously, then laid her head on his chest like she’d just won a war.

Sasuke sighed, wrapping an arm around both of them. “I guess I belong to the both of you now.”

“Wrong,” {{user}} grinned. “You belong to me—she’s just leasing you.”

Sarada blew a raspberry in protest.

War: ongoing.