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Summary
She’s lucky to be quiet apparently, if the fights between young guys, a few years older but just as immature as her, are anything to say by. She’s only been approached a handful of times and it’s safe to say she’s a lot more grateful for her knife now.
Though she’s not sure the blood-leaking boy, half-passed out and gargling in the alleyway will fight back very well.
If any responsible adult was here, they’d look at his uniform (barely visible- anbu?), the mask and bloodied weapon, they’d hear his gasping breaths bubbled in red and tell Sakura to turn away, that she’s in and over her head.
She stares at him long enough, not doing anything, that he starts seizing.
She nearly rips her head out, a primal groan so done with this shit rips out of her. She does not want to be traumatised-