Archive of Our Own

Haruno Sakura had been warned that Konoha (Private) Academy was big. Her mother had mentioned it twice while helping her pack that morning, her father had said something about getting familiar with the campus before classes started, and the school brochure had described it as spacious. Sakura had decided that all three descriptions were inadequate.

Because this wasn’t a school.

This was a fucking palace.

She stood just beyond the enormous front gate, one hand still wrapped around the strap of her schoolbag, and stared.

The main building rose beyond the long paved entrance, white walls gleaming beneath the morning sunlight, gold trim tracing the edges of the roofs and balconies. Cherry trees stretched across the grounds in every direction, their branches heavy with pale pink blossoms that swayed gently overhead. Beyond the central courtyard, she could see the athletic fields, the running track, another enormous building, and what looked suspiciously like an actual garden tucked behind one of the wings.

A breeze carried several petals across the walkway. One landed on her nose. Sakura didn’t notice. Her green eyes widened further. Her jaw dropped.

“…Holy shit.”

She had always been weak to beautiful things. 

Unfortunately, that included beautiful boys.

It had started when she was younger, although her mother insisted that Sakura had been born with the problem.

One evening, while Sakura had been sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework, Mebuki had been sorting laundry nearby when she suddenly asked, almost casually, “Sakura dear, what kind of husband do you think you’d want someday?”

Sakura had looked up from her worksheet.

She’d been about six then, old enough to have opinions and young enough to have absolutely no reason to be thinking about marriage. “A husband?”

“Mm-hm.” Her mother folded a shirt and glanced at her. “Your ideal type.”

Sakura had frowned thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”

“What kind of boy would you like?”

Sakura had considered the question with the seriousness of someone being asked to choose her future career.

“Nice.”

Mebuki nodded approvingly.

“Kind.”

Another nod.

“Someone who doesn’t lie.”

“Good.”

“Someone who can take care of himself.”

“Very good.”

Sakura had nodded, apparently satisfied with her own answer. Then she’d added, “And he has to be beautiful.”

Mebuki’s hands stopped. “…Handsome?”

Sakura immediately shook her head. “No.”

Her mother only stared. “What’s the difference?”

Sakura had frowned. She couldn’t quite explain it. Handsome boys were everywhere. Strong jaws, sharp features, broad shoulders, nice smiles. The usual sort of boys everyone seemed to point at and call attractive.

But beautiful was different. Beautiful was softer. Stranger. Something about delicate features, unusual eyes, pretty hair, elegant faces. Sometimes there was something almost androgynous about them, a quality that made Sakura want to stare a little longer because she couldn’t decide whether the person looked more like a prince or a particularly gorgeous girl who had somehow wandered into the boys’ section.

Finally, Sakura had answered with complete conviction. “Handsome is nice.”

Mebuki had raised an eyebrow. “And beautiful?”

Sakura’s cheeks had turned slightly pink. “Beautiful makes me stupid.”

There had been a long silence. Her mother had slowly put down the shirt. “That is… possibly the worst standard I’ve ever heard.”

“But it’s important!”

“Why?”

Sakura had clasped her hands beneath her chin, eyes sparkling. “Because if I’m going to look at someone for the rest of my life, I want to enjoy looking at him.”

Mebuki had stared at her daughter for several seconds then sighed.

“You’re going to be trouble.”

Sakura had smiled brightly “Yes!”

And unfortunately, Sakura had never outgrown that weakness. If anything, it had gotten worse.

She could appreciate a handsome boy perfectly well. She could acknowledge that someone was attractive. She could even understand why other girls might scream over them.

But beautiful boys?

Those were dangerous. Her brain simply stopped cooperating. Which was why, at sixteen years old, standing beneath the cherry trees of her new school, Sakura was already distracted by the scenery.

Because the school was beautiful. The flowers were beautiful. The sunlight was beautiful. The architecture was beautiful.

She was doomed.

“Oh my God.” She took another step forward “This place is gorgeous.”

Behind her, two girls had stopped walking.

Ino Yamanaka had been halfway through a conversation with Hinata when she’d noticed the stranger standing at the gate. She stopped. Hinata followed her gaze.

Both girls stared.

The new girl was beautiful herself, gorgeous even. Long pink hair flowed down her back in a smooth, shining curtain, so soft in color that it almost looked like a river of cherry-blossom petals spilling over her shoulders. Her features were delicate and feminine, almost doll-like, while her enormous green eyes seemed to glow beneath the morning sun.

She looked like spring. Soft. Elegant. Gentle. And then there was the fact that she was standing at the school gate with her mouth hanging open like she’d just discovered the existence of architecture.

Ino slowly raised one eyebrow “…Is she okay?”

Hinata watched the girl for another moment. “I… t-think so.”

“She’s been standing there for ages.”

“Maybe she’s lost?”

“She hasn’t even moved.” The blond beauty stared at the new student with disbelief and curiosity. 

As if summoned by their conversation, Sakura suddenly lifted both hands in a more dramatic way before let out a groan that loud enough to alert the whole building. “Why does a school need this many cherry trees?!”

Ino blinked and Hinata’s lips twitched, the poor girl was obviously unaware of the attentions she caught. Sakura turned toward them, apparently only just realizing she had an audience. “Good morning!”

The girls exchanged a glance. Ino looked Sakura up and down. Pretty. New uniform. No idea where she was going. And apparently loud enough to challenge Naruto Uzumaki without even trying.

'Interesting'

Ino stepped closer. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

Sakura nodded enthusiastically. “Very.”

“How new?”

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the gate before let out a heavy sigh “I’ve been standing here for about ten minutes.” 

Hinata covered her mouth. A tiny laugh escaped her lips. Ino’s lips curled up, amused by the pink haired girl “That explains a lot.”

Sakura tilted her head “Explains what?”

“Nothing.” Ino smiled innocently.
 “I’m Ino. Ino Yamanaka.”. The dark-haired girl beside her gave a small wave. “H-Huyga Hinata.”

Sakura’s eyes brightened. “I’m Sakura! Haruno Sakura. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Sakura immediately pointed toward the school “Do you know where the principal’s office is?”

Ino stared then returned the girl a smile. “Of course.”

“Could you show me?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you!” Sakura stepped between them without hesitation, her expression brightening as though she’d just acquired two new friends.

Ino glanced at Hinata, Hinata glanced back. Neither said anything. They didn’t need to. They had both already reached the same conclusion. Haruno Sakura was strange. But she was funny. And she seemed harmless.

So they decided to adopt her.

Sakura followed happily, her long pink hair swaying behind her as they walked beneath the cherry trees, completely unaware that somewhere deeper inside this enormous campus was a boy who would very soon put her lifelong weakness for beautiful men to an extremely serious test.

And this time—her brain was not going to survive.

By the time Ino and Hinata had successfully delivered Sakura to the administrative building, Sakura had already learned three things about Konoha Private Academy.

First, the school was absurdly large.

Second, Ino walked frighteningly fast.

Third, if Sakura ever lost sight of Ino again, she was going to die on campus and become a cautionary tale for future freshmen.

“Wait!” Sakura hurried after the two girls, nearly tripping over her own shoes as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “Slow down!”

Ino glanced over her shoulder “You were the one who wanted to find the principal’s office.”

“I didn’t know finding it required cardiovascular training!”

Hinata giggled softly. 

Sakura pointed accusingly at her. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. My legs weren’t informed that today was going to be an athletic event.”

“You’ve only been here ten minutes,” Ino said.

“Exactly! And I’m already fighting for my life.”

Ino snorted.

Sakura’s cheeks puffed out. Then she noticed something “Wait.” She stopped walking.

Ino and Hinata took another two steps before realizing they were suddenly missing their newest companion. Ino turned around.

Sakura was staring at a beautifully landscaped courtyard.

“…Oh.” Ino sighed. Here we go again, waiting for the girl to alert the whole building again.

“Don’t tell me.”Sakura slowly raised one finger and maybe her voice “There are koi?!” 

“There are koi.”

“Actual koi! In a school!”

“Yes.”

Sakura turned toward her with both hands pressed against her chest, if they imagine a little harder they can even see stars and tears in the pinkette eyes “This school is incredible.”

Ino stared at her “You’ve got to stop getting distracted.”

“I can’t help it!”

“You absolutely can.”

“I was born this way.”

Hinata smiled “S-She’s very enthusiastic.”

“She’s a menace.”

“I heard that!” Sakura quickly shove herself into their conversation.

“You were supposed to.”

Sakura opened her mouth to protest, but Ino was already walking away again “Come on, Sunshine.”

Sakura blinked “Sunshine?”

Ino waved a hand over her shoulder. “You’ve been smiling since we met.”

Sakura’s face immediately brightened. “I like that!”

“I figured you would.”

And that was how Sakura Haruno acquired her first nickname at Konoha (Private) Academy before she’d even attended a single class.

Unfortunately, it was also how she got separated from her guides. Because five minutes later, while Ino and Hinata were discussing where Sakura’s classroom would be, Sakura spotted a sign.

ADMINISTRATION — THIS WAY

Her eyes lit up. “Found it!” She pointed dramatically. 

Ino glanced at the sign “Wait—”Too late. Sakura was already running. “Sakura!”

“I’LL CATCH UP!”

“You don’t even know where you’re going!”

“I’M FOLLOWING THE SIGN!”

Ino stared at the rapidly disappearing pink head. “…She’s going to get lost.”

Hinata nodded “Probably.”

Ino's eyes haven't left the spot where they last saw the pinkette, she asked her friend“Should we stop her?”

Hinata considered it. “I-I think she will figures out somehow.”

Sakura’s first mistake was trusting the school map. 

Her second was assuming that the arrows printed on it were meant to be helpful. 

Her third, and perhaps most humiliating, was believing that she could find the administration building without asking anyone for directions. 

Twenty minutes after separating from Ino and Hinata, she stood beneath a wooden sign that confidently announced EAST WING — ADMINISTRATION, staring at the building behind it with growing suspicion. 

She looked at the sign, then at the building, then slowly lowered the map in her hands and frowned. “This is the art building.” 

There was a long silence. Somewhere above her, a bird chirped as though mocking her. 

Sakura’s eye twitched. “I hate this school.” 
She immediately shook her head, reconsidering. “No, that’s unfair.” She flattened the map against her palm and squinted at it. “I hate whoever designed this map.” When the map, predictably, failed to defend itself, she turned it around, only to discover she’d been holding it upside down. 

Her expression went blank. “…Oh.” She flipped it over with exaggerated dignity. “That explains several things.” She stuffed the map back into her bag, drew a deep breath, and pointed determinedly down the nearest path. “Fine. I’ll ask someone.” 

As if the universe had been waiting for her to say those words, she spotted a student disappearing around a corner.

“Excuse me!” she called, immediately hurrying after him. He didn’t hear her. Sakura quickened her pace, one hand clutching her bag while the other gathered her skirt. 

“Excuse me!” Still nothing. “WAIT!” The student vanished around another corner. Sakura’s eyes widened. “Oh, come on!” She broke into a run, her long pink hair streaming behind her, and rounded the corner at full speed without looking ahead.

She collided with someone so hard that the impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Her shoulder struck a solid chest, her bag slipped from her arm, and the map and several sheets of paper scattered across the stone pavement. 

Sakura stumbled backward with a startled yelp, landed rather ungracefully on the ground, and stared up at the person she’d just crashed into. 

A low, vicious voice greeted her before she could even apologize.

 “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The boy standing over her had one hand clenched around the strap of his bag and the other hanging loosely at his side, though the tension in his fingers suggested he was doing considerable work not to shove her away. His expression was thoroughly murderous. “You fucking blind? You just ran straight into me.” 

He bent down, snatched her map from the ground, and held it up between two fingers with a look of disgust. “You don’t look where you’re going, you don’t fucking watch where you’re running, and the you're just gonna sit there?” 

Sakura’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He waved the map once in front of her face. “I’m talking to you.” 

She blinked. “I—”

“What?” His eyebrows drew together. “You hit your head?” 

Sakura finally shook her head, her pink hair sliding over her shoulder. “No.”

“Then why the hell are you staring at me?” He sounded genuinely irritated now, but Sakura couldn’t answer because she’d finally gotten a proper look at him.

Her brain stopped working. Completely. The boy had red hair—not the bright, artificial red of dyed hair, but a deep crimson that caught the sunlight in individual strands—and a face so refined that Sakura’s thoughts simply collapsed beneath the weight of it. His skin was pale, his features slender and delicate, his eyes heavy-lidded beneath dark long lashes, and there was something almost androgynous about the beauty of his face that made her heart give one confused little thump. 

He wasn’t the ordinary sort of handsome she’d seen girls gossiping about in magazines or whisper about in the hallways. 

He was beautiful. 

That distinction was extremely important to Sakura, because she’d spent years knowing exactly what sort of boys made her stupid. 

Her mother’s question about her ideal husband flashed through her mind—What kind of boy would you like?—and Sakura’s younger self answering with absolute seriousness, He has to be beautiful. Handsome is nice, but beautiful makes me stupid. She had thought that was an exaggeration.

Apparently, it had been a prophecy.

The redhead’s expression shifted from anger to confusion when she continued staring at him. “What?” he demanded again, lowering the map slightly. 

Sakura’s lips parted. She should have apologized. She should have picked up her things. She should have asked where the principal’s office was. 

Instead, with the honesty of someone whose brain had just abandoned all social survival instincts, she whispered, “You’re really pretty.” 

The boy froze above her. His fingers stopped moving. For several seconds he simply stared at her. “…What?” 

Sakura tilted her head, completely sincere. “I said you’re pretty.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking with me?” 

She shook her head quickly, hands lifting in front of her as if she needed to physically prove her innocence. “No! You’re actually really beautiful.” 

His face went blank. 

Sakura smiled faintly, her eyes never leaving his. “Your face is really pretty.” 

The boy looked at her as though she’d just announced that she intended to eat the school principal. 

His jaw tightened. He glanced away, then back at her, clearly trying to determine whether she was mocking him. “You’re fucking weird,” he muttered at last, rubbing his thumb against the edge of the map. 

Sakura didn’t even seem offended. “I’ve been told that before.” She reached for one of her papers at the same moment he crouched to pick it up, and their fingers nearly touched. Sakura immediately pulled her hand back while the boy caught the paper between two fingers and glanced at it. “Junior,” he muttered, reading the name printed at the top. “You’re new?” 

Sakura nodded. “Today’s my first day.”

He looked at the papers scattered around them, then at the map in his hand. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Sakura’s brows knitted. “What does that mean?” 

He shoved the paper against her chest. “It means you look like you’ve been here long enough to learn how to walk.” 

Her mouth fell open. “You’re rude!” 

One eyebrow lifted. “And you’re annoying.” 

Sakura’s cheeks puffed. “I barely said anything!” 

“You’ve been staring at me for almost a minutes.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, paused, and then pointed at him as though she’d just found a perfectly reasonable defense. “Because you’re pretty!” 

The words came out louder than intended. The boy’s eyelid twitched. Sakura immediately slapped both hands over her mouth, realizing only after the fact that she’d essentially shouted her attraction at a complete stranger in the middle of the school grounds.

Something changed then. The boy stopped looking at her like an irritating obstacle and actually looked at her. His gaze moved slowly over her face, taking in the long pink hair spilling over her shoulders, the enormous green eyes, the delicate features, the soft flush left across her cheeks from running, and the tiny furrow between her brows that appeared whenever she was confused. 

Sakura noticed the change but didn’t understand it. She simply sat there, hands still hovering near her mouth, staring back at him while the breeze stirred the cherry blossoms overhead. 

Neither of them spoke. 

A petal drifted between them and landed against Sakura’s sleeve. She didn’t brush it away. 

His eyes remained on her. 

She remained completely still. 

One minute passed. Then another. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, but neither reacted. Sakura’s heartbeat gradually became louder in her ears, while the boy’s irritation seemed to have been replaced by something she couldn’t identify. Confusion, perhaps. Curiosity. Whatever it was, it kept him there. 

Five minutes passed in that strange silence before he finally exhaled through his nose, straightened to his full height, and dusted a petal from his sleeve. Sakura’s head tilted upward to follow him, her mouth still slightly open. 

He looked down at her one last time, his expression returning to its usual cold annoyance. “Get the fuck out of the middle of the walkway.” 

Sakura blinked and immediately scrambled to gather her papers. “Oh. Right.” She shoved one sheet into her bag, nearly put another into the wrong pocket, corrected herself, and looked up again. 

The redhead had already turned away. He took several steps before stopping, glanced over his shoulder, and spotted one final sheet lying near Sakura’s knee. With an irritated sigh, he nudged it toward her with the toe of his shoe. “You forgot this.” 

Sakura reached for it, her fingers curling around the edge. “Thank you.” 

He gave a dismissive grunt, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked away without another word.

Sakura stayed exactly where she was. Her fingers tightened around the paper as she watched the redhead disappear around the corner, and only when he was completely out of sight did she slowly raise one hand to her chest. Her palm pressed against the spot above her heart. 

Her eyes widened. 

Her lips parted. 

Thump. 

Her heart hammered against her ribs. 

Thump. Thump. 

Her cheeks began to burn. “Kami,” she whispered, and then pressed her other hand against her chest as if she could physically hold her heart in place. “Oh God.” 

Her face went scarlet. She looked toward the empty corner again, then covered her mouth with both hands. “He’s so pretty.” She squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders drawing upward as a helpless little shiver ran through her. “He’s so pretty.” 

She had no idea what his name was. She didn’t know what class he belonged to, how old he was beyond knowing he was clearly older, why he’d been wandering around with such an awful attitude, or why he’d looked at her for five whole minutes without saying a word. 

She knew absolutely nothing about him. And yet, sitting alone in the middle of a school she’d been attending for less than an hour, with her heart beating like she’d just run another lap around the campus, Sakura Haruno suddenly understood something her mother had warned her about years ago. 

Beautiful boys really did make her stupid. 

She slowly lowered her hands, stared dreamily at the path where he’d disappeared, and whispered with complete conviction, “…I think I fell in love.”

After a for like a decade, Sakura finally found her homeroom, she had decided that getting lost was probably going to become a recurring feature of her life at Konoha Private Academy. 

She pushed open the classroom door with one hand while clutching her bag with the other, slightly out of breath from what she considered an entirely unnecessary tour of half the campus, and immediately spotted Ino waving both arms at her from across the room. 

“There you are!” Ino called, leaning halfway over the back of her chair as though she had been preparing to launch a search party. “Where the hell did you go?” 

Sakura slipped inside and hurried toward her, her pink hair bouncing around her shoulders. “I got lost.” She dropped her bag beside the desk and planted both hands against her knees to catch her breath. “Twice.” 

Hinata, who was sitting beside Ino, blinked sympathetically and folded her hands together over her desk. “Twice?” 

Sakura straightened and held up two fingers. “First I found the art building when I was supposed to find the administration office, and then I found the gym.” 

Ino stared at her for a moment before slowly lowering herself back into her chair. “How did you manage to get lost twice after I specifically told you not to run away?” 

Sakura’s lips pursed. “The signs are confusing.” 

“The signs have arrows.” 

“Exactly! Too many arrows!” 

Ino opened her mouth, apparently deciding that arguing with that logic would only make her headache worse, and instead waved Sakura closer. “Come on. Since you’re here, I’ll introduce you properly.” 

Sakura’s eyes brightened immediately. “Really?” 

“Yes. And try not to run away this time.” 

Sakura gave her a wounded look. “I wasn’t running away. I was navigating.” 

Hinata quietly covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Ino turned toward the rest of the classroom and clapped her hands once. “Everyone, listen up!” Several heads turned. A blond boy near the window immediately leaned so far backward in his chair that Sakura was certain he was going to fall. Another boy with wild brown hair looked over with open curiosity, while a dark-haired boy sitting near the back barely bothered lifting his eyes from his book. A girl with red glasses immediately glanced toward Sakura, her expression sharpening with interest, while another dark-haired girl offered Sakura a small, shy smile. 

Ino hooked an arm around Sakura’s shoulders and pulled her forward. “This is Haruno Sakura. She’s new, so don’t scare her off.” 

“HEY!” Naruto shot his hand into the air before anyone else could say anything. “I’m Naruto Uzumaki!” He practically bounded out of his seat, grinning so widely that Sakura instinctively took half a step back before laughing. 

Naruto thrust a hand toward her with so much enthusiasm that his entire arm shook. “Welcome to Konoha Academy!” 

Sakura stared at his hand, then at his face, before shaking it enthusiastically. “Thank you, Naruto!” 

“You can sit with us at lunch!” Naruto continued immediately, already talking as though they’d known each other for years. “And I’ll show you the best places to eat and where the teachers don’t usually look and—” 

Shikamaru, who had his cheek resting against one palm, lazily lifted the other hand. “Naruto, she’s been here for less than five minutes.” 

“Exactly!” Naruto slapped his other hand against his desk. “That’s why she needs a tour!” 

Sakura’s eyes lit up, her smile widened even more before clapping her palms together. “I’d love that!” 

Shikamaru’s eyelids drooped. “Great. Now there are two of them.”

One by one, Ino introduced everyone, and Sakura quickly realized that the classroom contained an almost ridiculous collection of personalities. 

Naruto was the first to make her feel completely at home, dragging his chair closer with a loud scrape across the floor while firing questions at her faster than she could answer. “Where’d you transfer from? Do you like ramen? What’s your favorite food? Do you play sports? Do you have siblings? Why’s your hair pink? Is it naturally pink? Can I touch it?” 

Sakura laughed and caught his hand before he could reach for her hair. “One question at a time!” 

Naruto scratched his cheek, looking genuinely thoughtful. “Okay. Do you like ramen?” 

“Yes.” 

“Great! We’re friends.” 

“That was fast.” 

“I’m efficient.” 

Sakura laughed again, and even Hinata smiled at the exchange. Kiba introduced himself with a grin and an Akamaru-like enthusiasm of his own, Choji offered her some of the snacks he was eating, Shino gave her a polite nod while adjusting his glasses, and Shikamaru introduced himself with the exhausted expression of a man who had already decided social interaction was too much work. Sai smiled in that strangely blank way of his and politely welcomed her, while Gaara merely inclined his head when introduced, his arms folded across his chest as he regarded her with quiet curiosity. 

The Taka group was somewhat more chaotic. Suigetsu leaned back in his chair with an amused grin, Jugo offered a surprisingly gentle greeting, and Karin looked Sakura over from head to toe before adjusting her glasses with one finger and giving a restrained greeting of her own. 

Sakura returned every introduction with the same bright smile, asking questions, laughing when someone made a joke, and gesturing animatedly whenever she got excited. 

She was halfway through telling Naruto that she had nearly gotten into a fight with a school map when the classroom door opened again and several older students wandered in during their free period. 

Lee arrived first with his usual impossible enthusiasm, Tenten following behind him while Neji walked beside them with an expression of practiced patience. Temari and Kankuro came in after them, already arguing over something, and Sakura blinked as Ino quietly explained that they were seniors who often wandered around the junior classrooms when they had free time. 

Sakura gave them a cheerful greeting, and Lee immediately clasped both hands together with sparkling eyes. “Yosh! A new student! How wonderful! Welcome!” 

Sakura laughed and bowed her head politely. “Thank you!” 

“Your spirit is magnificent!” Lee declared, pointing at her dramatically. 

Tenten caught the back of his uniform and tugged him away before he could launch into a speech about youth. “Ignore him.” 

“I heard that!” Lee protested, twisting around while Tenten continued dragging him.

By the time the introductions were over, Sakura had already been offered lunch invitations by Naruto, snacks by Choji, a campus tour by Kiba, and what appeared to be a lifelong friendship contract by Ino. 

She was beginning to think that perhaps transferring here hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. She smiled down at her desk as she unpacked her things, smoothing the edge of one notebook with her palm while Hinata leaned slightly closer and asked whether she had enjoyed meeting everyone. 

“They’re really nice,” Sakura answered, her smile widening as she looked around the classroom, her eyes landed on Naruto while he winked at her playfully. “A little strange.” 

Naruto immediately leaned over the back of his chair. “I heard that!” 

Sakura laughed and waved him away. “You were supposed to!” 

The room filled with scattered laughter, and Sakura relaxed further into her chair, completely unaware that one person in the classroom had been watching her from the moment she walked through the door.

Sasuke Uchiha had been listening without looking like he was listening. His book remained open in front of him, one hand resting against the page while his eyes occasionally drifted upward whenever Sakura laughed. 

He’d seen girls react to him plenty of times before. He knew exactly what usually happened when a new girl entered the school and happened to notice him. The lingering looks. The whispers. The sudden interest in sitting nearby. The attempts to start conversations that nobody had asked for. 

Sakura was pretty—very pretty, actually—and Sasuke had already seen enough of the way some of the other students were looking at her to know she’d probably attracted attention the moment she walked through the gate. 

So when Ino eventually introduced him, Sasuke merely closed his book halfway, lifted his eyes toward Sakura, and gave her a cool, dismissive once-over. “Sasuke Uchiha.” 

Sakura looked at him for a moment before smiling softly, she dropped the enthusiasm to match his energy, careful not to overwhelmed him. “Nice to meet you, Sasuke-kun.” 

He waited. There it was. The expected pause. The blush. The awkward smile. 

Nothing came. 

Sakura simply reached for her pencil case and started arranging her pens by color. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “…That’s it?” 

Sakura glanced up. “What?” 

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You don’t have anything else to say?” 

Sakura frowned, genuinely confused. “Should I?” 

A few people nearby immediately started paying attention. Naruto’s head turned. Ino slowly lowered the pen she’d been holding. Karin straightened in her seat.

Sasuke’s mouth curved into a faint, arrogant smirk. He pushed himself upright, resting one elbow against the desk as he looked at her. “Usually people have something to say when they meet me.” 

Sakura stared at him for a second, then looked around the room as if checking whether everyone else had heard the same ridiculous sentence. When she looked back, one eyebrow had risen. “Like what?” 

Sasuke shrugged, his expression deliberately smug. “I don’t know. Maybe something about how attractive I am.” 

There was a collective silence. Naruto’s lips twitched. Ino’s eyes widened with the dawning realization that this was going somewhere terrible. 

Sakura simply blinked at Sasuke. Then she looked him over once, slowly, with the detached consideration of someone inspecting an item in a shop. 

Sasuke’s smirk grew. He clearly thought he had her. “You’re not exactly subtle,” he added, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “But I guess that’s normal for girls who see me for the first time.” 

Sakura’s expression changed. The pleasant warmth disappeared from her eyes. She placed her pencil down with deliberate care, flattened her palm against the cover of the thick notebook sitting beside her, and slowly turned toward him. “Did you just call me a girl who—” 

“What?” Sasuke lifted his chin, looking almost bored. “Did I hurt your feelings?” Sakura stared at him for two seconds.

Then she picked up the notebook.

Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward it.

“Don’t,” Ino warned from across the room, already knowing exactly what Sakura’s expression meant.

Sakura smiled. It was a very sweet smile. “Why not?”

Ino closed her eyes.“Oh no.”

WHACK.

The thick notebook connected with the side of Sasuke’s head. The sound echoed through the classroom. Every conversation stopped.

Naruto’s mouth fell open. Choji froze halfway through chewing. Kiba’s eyebrows shot upward. Hinata covered her mouth with both hands. Shikamaru slowly lifted his head from his desk for perhaps the first time that morning. Even Gaara’s eyes shifted toward the scene in interest.

Sasuke remained perfectly still for several seconds, his head slightly turned from the impact, one hand slowly rising to the side of his head. 

Sakura still held the notebook in both hands, her cheeks flushed with irritation as she glared at him. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded, eyebrows drawn tightly together. 

Sasuke slowly turned his head back toward her. “Did you just hit me?” His voice had dropped dangerously low. 

Sakura tightened her grip on the notebook. “Yes.” 

“With a fucking notebook?”

“Duh.” 

“Why?” 

Sakura’s eyes widened as though the answer should have been painfully obvious. “Because you were being an ass!” 

Sasuke stared at her. 

Sakura pointed the notebook accusingly at his chest. “You don’t even know me, and you’re already acting like every girl in this room is supposed to fall all over you because you think you're attractive!” She huffed and lowered the notebook onto her desk. “That’s incredibly arrogant.” 

Naruto suddenly slapped both hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh. Ino had already turned away, biting her knuckle. Even Suigetsu was grinning openly. Sasuke’s expression should have been murderous. Instead, something unexpected happened.

His mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

He looked at Sakura again. Really looked at her. She wasn’t blushing. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She wasn’t even particularly interested in his appearance. She’d looked him directly in the eye, called him an ass, and hit him with a notebook on her first day.

Interesting.

Sasuke slowly rubbed the side of his head, his eyes narrowing with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “You’re quite bold.”

Sakura crossed her arms “And you’re annoying.”

His lips twitched again “You’re not scared of me?”

She snorted“Should I be?”

That made his eyebrows lift.

Across the room, Karin had been watching the entire exchange with increasingly rigid shoulders. She had expected the new girl to become another annoying admirer, another pretty face who would eventually start orbiting Sasuke like everyone else. 

Instead, Sakura had hit him. Worse, Sasuke wasn’t angry anymore. He was looking at her with genuine interest, his attention completely fixed on the pink-haired girl as though she’d suddenly become the most entertaining thing in the room.

Karin’s fingers tightened around her pen“…Seriously?”

Ino glanced sideways at her.

Karin’s glasses slipped slightly down her nose. She pushed them back up with a sharp movement and stared at Sakura, who had already returned to arranging her stationery as though she hadn’t just committed an assault in front of half the classroom.

Naruto leaned toward Sakura and whispered loudly, “You know you just hit Sasuke Uchiha—the ultimate bastard, right?”

Sakura looked up, almost warily “Yes?” 

“Like, actually hit-hit him.”

“Yes?” The answer came out more like a question. She didn't just attack someone big did she? 

Naruto’s grin widened, shoving her into a bear hug. “That was awesome, Sakura-chan!”

Sakura’s face brightened immediately “Thank you!” she returned the hug almost the same excitement.

Sasuke watched the exchange, one hand still resting against his temple.

And for the first time that morning, the new girl wasn’t merely another pretty face in the classroom.

She was interesting.

Karin, unfortunately, had just discovered that she was going to have a problem.

Sakura’s interest in the redheaded senior might have remained a perfectly harmless, embarrassing little crush if she had actually known how to behave around someone she found attractive. 

Unfortunately, Haruno Sakura had never been particularly good at leaving beautiful things alone. Flowers made her stop and stare. Cute animals made her crouch in the middle of sidewalks. Pretty stationery could keep her trapped inside a store for an unreasonable amount of time. 

And beautiful boys? 

Beautiful boys apparently activated some primitive investigative instinct buried deep inside her brain. 

By the time the final bell rang that afternoon, Sakura had already spent the better part of her last class thinking about the redhead from earlier, occasionally staring out the window with her cheek resting against one palm while her pencil hovered uselessly above her notebook. 

She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know what grade he was in. She didn’t know why he’d looked so angry. She only knew that he’d called her weird, told her to get out of the way, and somehow managed to look devastatingly beautiful while doing both. 

That was a problem. A very serious problem. Sakura eventually lowered her pencil, narrowed her eyes at the blank page in front of her, and whispered, “I need information.”

The girl sitting beside her looked over. “About what?” 

Sakura immediately straightened, snapping her notebook shut against her chest. “Nothing.” 

The girl blinked. “You just said you needed information.” 

Sakura smiled too brightly. “I did?” 

“Yes.”

Sakura’s fingers tightened around the notebook before chuckling awkwardly. “Then I must have been talking to myself.” 

The girl stared at her for another second before shrugging and returning to her work. Sakura waited until she looked away, then carefully opened her notebook again and wrote in the corner of a page:

REDHEAD — SENIOR — BEAUTIFUL — NEED NAME. 

She stared at the words for a moment, tapped her pencil against her cheek, then added beneath them: Possibly dangerous. 

She hesitated. “Definitely dangerous,” she muttered, drawing a line beneath it. Then, after another thoughtful second, she added: Dangerous to my heart. 

Her face immediately heated. “Oh, shut up,” she whispered to herself, slammed the notebook closed again, and spent the next five minutes pretending she was paying attention to class.

Finding his name turned out to be easier than Sakura expected. 

Kiba knew who he was. Naruto knew who he was. Ino definitely knew who he was, although the moment Sakura casually asked, “Hey, Ino, do you know who that really pretty redheaded with brown eyes is?” Ino’s expression immediately changed. 

She slowly lowered the drink she had been holding and stared at Sakura over the rim. “Which pretty redheaded? Senior?” 

Sakura’s hands flew up as she tried to describe him. “The one with the red hair and the really pretty face and the—” She stopped, realizing that description probably applied to exactly one person in the entire school. 

Ino’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice as though she had just uncovered a criminal conspiracy. “Are you talking about Akasuna Sasori?” 

Sakura’s entire face lit up. “That’s his name!” She immediately grabbed Ino’s shoulders. “What’s his first name? What’s his class? How old is he? Why does everyone look scared when they mention him? Does he always dress like that? Why does he have such pretty eyes?” 

Ino stumbled backward under the sudden barrage, trying to pry Sakura’s hands off her shoulders. “Slow down! Jesus!” 

Hinata, standing nearby, had already begun giggling into her hand. “Sakura-chan… you really l-like him, don’t you?” 

Sakura released Ino and clasped both hands against her cheeks. “I don’t know!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I met him for five minutes and we had a staring contest!” 

Ino gave her a flat look. “You stared at him for five minutes...And he didn't attack you?” 

“Exactly and yes—why would he attack me?” Sakura pointed emphatically. “Also—that’s practically a relationship.”

After the first week, Sakura had gathered enough information to make what should have been a simple school crush look suspiciously like a police investigation. 

She had learned that his name was Akasuna Sasori, that he was eighteen, that he was a senior, and that his reputation around school was considerably worse than his face had any right to be. 

He was apparently a delinquent, although nobody could give Sakura a single consistent explanation of what exactly he’d done to earn the title beyond fighting people, being rude, starting trouble, and generally being Sasori. 

He belonged to a group called the Akatsuki, which Sakura privately thought sounded like the name of either a criminal organization or a particularly embarrassing band, but since Sasori was involved she had decided she wouldn’t judge too quickly. 

He was often seen with a blond senior named Deidara, who apparently talked almost as much as Naruto and had an explosive personality to match. 

Sasori loved art. He spent an unreasonable amount of time in the art room. He hated waiting. He hated noisy people. He hated being interrupted. He hated people touching his things. He hated people asking stupid questions. He apparently hated quite a lot of things in general. 

Sakura listened to each new piece of information with increasing fascination, occasionally nodding solemnly while writing it down. 

At one point Ino leaned over her shoulder, read the growing list, and slowly turned toward Hinata with a deeply concerned expression. “She’s making a profile.” 

Sakura immediately covered the notebook with both arms. “It’s not a profile.” 

Ino pointed at the page. “You wrote his name three times.” 

Sakura looked down. She had. “That’s for organization.” 

“You drew a heart next to it.” Sakura slapped one hand over the offending doodle. “That’s unrelated.”

Sakura’s curiosity soon became impossible to satisfy from secondhand information alone, which was how she ended up developing the habit of appearing wherever Sasori happened to be. 

She wasn’t technically following him, at least according to her own definition of the word. She was simply… going in the same direction. Frequently. Coincidentally. 

For extended periods of time. If Sasori left the main building after class, Sakura might happen to be walking through the same courtyard. 

If he stopped by the art building, Sakura might suddenly discover that she had developed an overwhelming interest in the architecture of the exact hallway outside the art room. 

If he sat beneath a tree during lunch, Sakura might choose a bench several meters away and pretend to read while keeping one eye suspiciously fixed on him over the top of her book. 

Her attempts at subtlety were terrible. Once, Sasori turned around and caught her staring at him from behind a potted plant. Sakura immediately looked at the plant instead. She reached out, touched one of its leaves, and nodded thoughtfully as though she had been examining it for academic purposes. 

Sasori stared at her. 

Sakura stared at the plant. 

He turned away. 

She waited three seconds before peeking around the leaves again. 

Another afternoon, Sasori entered the library and Sakura entered thirty seconds later carrying a book upside down. She sat at a table directly across from him, opened the book, and spent ten minutes staring at the same page without turning it once. 

When Sasori eventually looked up, Sakura smiled brightly. “Hi.” 

He stared at her. “Why are you here?” 

Sakura glanced around the library as though the answer were obvious. “Reading.” 

His eyes dropped to her book. “That’s upside down.” 

Sakura looked down. “…Oh.” She rotated it with great dignity. “I knew that.”

Sasori began noticing the pattern around the middle of the week. At first he dismissed the strange sensation of being watched as paranoia. Then he saw the pink hair again. And again. And again. 

The first time, he caught a glimpse of her disappearing behind a corridor pillar. 

The second time, she was sitting on a bench outside the art building, pretending to read. 

The third time, she was standing at the vending machines when he walked past, staring very intently at a row of bottled drinks while her eyes followed him through the reflection in the glass. He stopped. She didn’t. He took one step backward. Her eyes moved in the reflection. He took another. They moved again. Sasori slowly turned his head. Sakura was staring directly at him now. Their eyes met. She froze. 

He raised one eyebrow. 

She smiled. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

She slowly lifted her hand and waved. 

Sasori turned around and walked away. 

Sakura watched him go, then quietly whispered to herself, “He’s so attractive when he’s annoyed.”

By Friday morning, Sasori had reached his limit. He waited until the pink-haired menace appeared again, walking several meters behind him with what she apparently believed was the subtlety of a professional spy. 

This time, instead of continuing down the hallway, he stopped. 

Sakura, who had been examining a display case with absolutely no interest whatsoever because she had been watching his reflection in the glass, failed to notice until she nearly walked directly into his back. She jerked to a halt, eyes widening, and slowly looked up. 

Sasori turned around. His arms folded across his chest, his expression already sour. “You’ve been following me all week.” 

Sakura’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “No.” 

One eyebrow rose. “No?” 

She nodded solemnly. “No.” 

Sasori took one slow step toward her. Sakura instinctively stepped backward. “Then why have I seen you everywhere I’ve gone?” 

Another step. Sakura’s back nearly brushed the wall behind her. “I like… walking?” she offered weakly, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. 

Sasori’s eyes narrowed. “You followed me into the art building.” 

Sakura swallowed. “I like art.” 

“You followed me into the library.” 

“I like books.” 

“You stood outside the cafeteria for twenty minutes yesterday.” 

Sakura’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling. “I like… food?” Sasori’s eyelid twitched. He took another step.

Sakura’s shoulders touched the wall.

She froze.

Sasori planted one hand against the wall beside her head, leaning down just enough to block her escape route. His other hand remained in his pocket, his face now far too close to hers for Sakura’s suddenly malfunctioning brain to process properly. “You’re terrible at lying,” he muttered. 

Sakura made the tiniest, most startled sound imaginable“—Eep.”

Sasori stopped. Sakura stopped. Her eyes were enormous. Her face was turning red so quickly it was almost impressive.

She stared at him from beneath her lashes, hands hovering awkwardly near her chest, while Sasori stared back with a completely unimpressed expression that somehow made the situation infinitely worse.

“Did you just...squeak?”

Sakura’s face became even redder “No...”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

“You squeaked.”

Sakura pressed both hands over her mouth, mortified. “I was surprised!”

Sasori’s eyebrow lifted “By what?”

She gestured helplessly between them“You!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re too close!”

He glanced at the distance between them as though only now considering it. Then looked back at her “…You were following me, that's even more disturbing than me being close to you.”

Sakura’s cheeks burned“That’s different!”

“How?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know!”

For a moment, Sasori simply stared at her. Then he leaned slightly closer, not because he was trying to tease her, but because he was genuinely trying to figure out what was wrong with this girl. Sakura immediately flattened herself harder against the wall, fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt as her heart began pounding violently.

He’s close. He’s really close. Why is he even prettier from this distance?!

Her eyes darted over his face for half a second before she hurriedly looked away. Sasori noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes narrowed “Are you staring at my face again?”

Sakura’s head snapped back toward him“No!”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You’ve been doing it since the day you ran into me.”

Sakura’s lips pressed together. Then, after a moment, she muttered, “…Your face is very distracting.”

Sasori went silent.

Sakura immediately realized what she’d said. Her eyes widened“…I mean—”She covered her face with both hands“Forget that.”

Sasori stared at her for several seconds before finally pulling his hand away from the wall and stepping back. Sakura immediately sucked in a breath, as though she’d been released from captivity.

He folded his arms again “You’re a weirdo.”

Sakura lowered her hands, still bright red“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

She fiddled nervously with the strap of her bag, refusing to meet his eyes for more than a second. Sasori watched her in silence, apparently trying to determine whether she was always like this or whether he’d somehow broken her brain. 

Sakura, meanwhile, became increasingly aware that he was still standing there. Still looking at her. Still much too close for her sanity. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that her eyebrows scrunched together, silently making a desperate bargain with the universe. Okay. If I keep my eyes closed long enough, maybe he’ll go away. Maybe when I open them, he’ll be gone. That’s how this works, right? She waited. One second. Two. Three.

Nothing.

Sakura kept her eyes shut harder.

Go away!

She waited another few seconds.

Still nothing.

Please go away...

Then she felt the faintest shift of air near her ear. Her eyes flew open. Sasori was leaning closer. Much closer. Before Sakura could make another startled sound, his voice dropped into a quiet murmur beside her ear, the warmth of his breath brushing her skin. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

A shiver ran straight down Sakura’s spine. Her entire body went rigid. For one spectacular second, she forgot how to breathe.

Then Sasori pulled away, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked past her as though he hadn’t just committed a full-scale assault on her nervous system. His footsteps faded down the corridor, calm and unhurried, until he disappeared around the corner.

Sakura remained pressed against the wall. Her eyes were enormous. Her lips were parted. Her heart was beating so violently that she instinctively pressed one hand against her chest.

Thump.

Another—

THUMP.

She slowly lifted her other hand to her ear, fingertips brushing the spot where his breath had touched her skin. Her cheeks somehow became even hotter.

“…Oh God.”

Her knees gave out.

She slid slowly down the wall until she landed on the floor, her bag collapsing beside her with a soft thump. One hand remained clutched over her heart while the other stayed against her ear, and Sakura stared blankly at the empty corridor with the horrified realization of a girl who had just discovered an entirely new category of attraction.

Handsome boys were already dangerous.

Beautiful boys were worse.

But now there was another problem. She swallowed. Her face burned.

“…Not the bad-boy thingy too.” She covered her face with both hands “Why?!” Her voice echoed faintly through the empty hallway.

“I was supposed to have standards!” She peeked between her fingers toward the direction Sasori had disappeared“…Apparently I don’t.”

Sakura made the mistake of telling Ino.

Not immediately, of course. She had enough dignity left to keep the incident with Sasori to herself for approximately six hours, which was, by Sakura’s standards, an impressive feat of self-restraint. 

She spent the rest of Friday afternoon pretending nothing had happened, although anyone who looked closely would have noticed that she kept touching her ear whenever she thought nobody was watching. 

Unfortunately for her, Ino was a professional observer of suspicious behavior. 

By lunchtime, she’d already caught Sakura doing it three times. The fourth time, Sakura’s fingers had barely reached her ear before Ino slapped her chopsticks down on the table and narrowed her eyes. “What happened?” 

Sakura nearly choked on her drink. “Nothing!” she squeaked, immediately lowering her hand into her lap. 

Ino leaned across the table, resting one elbow beside her lunch while her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You keep touching your ear.” 

“My ear exists.” 

“That’s not an explanation.” 

“It’s just ear....I..uh..It was itching.” The pinkette nervously avoid any eyes contact.

“Sakura.” Ino’s voice became dangerously sweet. “What happened?” 

Sakura looked toward Hinata, hoping for rescue, only to find the dark-haired girl already watching her with worried curiosity, her hands folded neatly around her juice box. 

Sakura swallowed and tried to concentrate on her food. “I… got cornered.” 

Ino’s chopsticks stopped halfway to her mouth. Hinata’s eyes widened. “Cornered?” 

Sakura nodded, slowly pushing a piece of food around her lunchbox. “By Sasori.” The table went silent.

Naruto was the first to react. He nearly inhaled a mouthful of noodles, coughed violently, and slapped both hands against his chest while Choji immediately shoved a cup of water toward him. 

“Sasori?!” Naruto wheezed after swallowing. “You mean Akasuna Sasori?” 

Sakura blinked at him. “How many redheaded delinquent seniors named Sasori do you know?” 

Naruto looked thoughtful for half a second. “Actually, just one.” 

“Then yes.” 

Ino slowly placed her chopsticks down. “What does cornered mean?” 

Sakura’s cheeks began turning pink. She suddenly found the rice in her lunchbox extremely fascinating. “He… confronted me.” 

Hinata leaned slightly closer, her fingers curling nervously around the edge of her sleeve. “Because you were following him?” Sakura was started, how did Hinata know that? She gave a tiny nod. “For five days.” 

Ino’s eyes widened. “Five days?!” 

“It sounds worse when you say it like that.” 

“Because it is worse!” Ino threw both hands into the air before dragging them down her face. “Sakura, you were stalking a delinquent senior!”

“I was observing.” 

“You were following him!” 

“Researching.” 

“Following!” 

“Learning!” 

“Stalking!” 

Sakura puffed out her cheeks. “You’re being dramatic.” 

Ino stared at her. “You literally followed him into the library.” 

“I like books.” 

“You followed him into the art building.” 

“I like art.” 

“You stood outside the cafeteria watching him eat.” 

Sakura paused. Okay how did Ino know all  of that? She quietly steal a glance at Hinata—the girl felt it and immediately looked away. 'Wow, that's not too surprising'. Finally, she then quietly lifted one finger. “I like food.” 

Naruto collapsed against the table laughing. 

The laughter died when Sakura finally explained the rest. She told them how Sasori had stopped her in the hallway, how he’d backed her against the wall, how he’d leaned close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear, and finally, in a much quieter voice, how he’d whispered that she was lucky he was in a good mood that day. 

By the time she finished, Sakura had buried half her face behind both hands, her ears burning while Ino stared at her with the expression of someone whose best friend had just announced that she intended to juggle knives for entertainment. 

Hinata’s face had turned pink too, although whether from embarrassment or sympathy, Sakura couldn’t tell. 

Naruto, meanwhile, had gone completely still. “He did what?” he finally asked, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. 

Sakura peeked through her fingers. “He whispered in my ear.” 

Naruto looked at Ino. Ino looked at Hinata. Hinata looked at Sakura. Then all three looked back at Sakura. 

“And you liked it?”Ino demanded. 

Sakura’s hands dropped from her face. “I didn’t say that!” Her voice rose defensively as she waved both hands in front of herself. “I said it made me—” She stopped. Her cheeks became even redder. “…feel weird.” 

Naruto’s grin slowly returned. “You liked it.” 

“I did not!” Sakura grabbed a napkin and threw it at him. 

Naruto ducked, laughing. “You totally did!” 

“Shut up!” She reached for another napkin. “I’m warning you!” 

Naruto raised both hands in surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay!”

Ino, however, wasn’t laughing anymore. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and gave Sakura a long, serious look. “We need to save you.” 

Sakura blinked. “From what?” 

Ino pointed dramatically in the direction of absolutely nothing. “From him.” 

Sakura’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why?” 

“Because he’s a delinquent!” Ino slapped one palm against the table. “He’s eighteen, you’re sixteen, he’s known for picking fights with people, he insults everyone, he apparently spends his free time terrifying freshmen, and you’ve been following him around like a lost puppy!” 

Sakura folded her arms. “He hasn’t done anything to me.” 

“He cornered you!” 

“He only asked why I was following him.” 

“Against a wall!” 

“There happened to be a wall there.” 

Ino stared at her. “Sakura.” 

Sakura smiled innocently. “What?” 

Ino slowly turned toward the rest of the table. “We’re having an intervention.” 

Naruto immediately raised his hand. “Can I be in charge?” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ll make it worse.” 

Naruto lowered his hand with a disappointed pout.

By the end of lunch, the entire group somehow knew. Nobody could explain exactly how the information had spread so quickly, but by the time Sakura returned to class, there was already an unofficial emergency meeting happening around her desk. 

Shikamaru sat with his arms folded, looking like he’d been dragged into the meeting against his will. Choji was eating chips. Kiba looked far too enthusiastic about the situation. Shino stood quietly beside him, adjusting his glasses while listening. Gaara had remained mostly silent, his arms crossed as he watched the chaos with an unreadable expression. Suigetsu was openly entertained, while Jugo seemed genuinely concerned. 

Even Sasuke had been dragged into the discussion, although his expression suggested he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Sakura looked around at all of them. “Why is everyone standing around my desk?” 

Nobody answered immediately. Ino cleared her throat and stepped forward. “We’re here because we care about you.” 

Sakura’s expression softened. “Aw.” 

Ino immediately pointed at her. “And because you’re being stupid.” 

Sakura’s smile disappeared. “Oh.”

Naruto slapped both hands onto Sakura’s desk. “We have a plan!” 

Sakura blinked. “For what?” 

“Getting you to stop liking Sasori!” 

She stared at him. 

“That’s not a plan. That’s a goal.” Shikamaru rubbed his forehead. “This is already troublesome.” 

Kiba leaned forward with a grin. “We just need to find someone better.” 

Sakura tilted her head. “Better than...Sasori?” 

“Exactly.” 

Sakura thought about it. “That’s going to be difficult.” 

Kiba’s grin faltered. Ino pointed toward Sasuke. “Which is why we have him.” 

Sakura slowly turned her head toward Sasuke. Sasuke looked back at her. His eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me?” 

Ino folded her arms. “Because you’re attractive.” Sasuke’s eyebrow twitched. “I know.” 

“And Sakura likes beautiful boys.” 

Sakura immediately nodded. “Yes.” 

Sasuke looked at her. “You think I’m beautiful?” 

Sakura considered him carefully. “You’re handsome.”

Sasuke’s expression changed. Very slightly. “That’s it?” 

Sakura shrugged. “You’re good-looking.” 

Naruto covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. Suigetsu made a choking noise. Even Kiba turned away to hide his grin. 

Sasuke’s face darkened. “What’s the difference?”

Sakura smiled brightly. “You’re handsome. Sasori is beautiful...and handsome.” The room exploded.

Naruto nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Suigetsu slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, while Kiba actually turned around and leaned against the desk because he couldn’t hold himself upright. 

Sasuke sat completely motionless, staring at Sakura as though she’d personally insulted his entire bloodline. 

Ino pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” 

Sakura looked around at everyone, genuinely confused by their reactions. 

“What?”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “Nothing.” He picked up his book with deliberate calm. “Apparently I’m not beautiful enough.” 

Sakura blinked. “I didn’t say that.” 

“You implied it.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You absolutely did.” 

Sakura frowned, then smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry.” 

Sasuke glanced at her. “For what?” 

“For making you feel bad.” 

His expression softened for half a second. Then Sakura continued, completely sincerely, “But you really shouldn’t worry. You’re still very handsome.” 

Sasuke stared at her.

Naruto made a strangled noise.

Sasuke slowly closed his book, he finally gritted out “You're really annoying.”

Sakura smiled brightly “Oh—Thank you.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

“I know.”

Across the room, Karin watched the entire exchange with her arms folded tightly against her chest, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. She pushed them back up with one finger and glared at Sakura. 

The problem wasn’t simply that Sakura was pretty. It wasn’t even that Sakura had somehow become friends with everyone within a single day. 

The problem was that Sasuke was actually paying attention to her. He kept looking at her. He argued with her. He seemed entertained by her. And now Sakura had just casually dismissed his appearance without even realizing how unusual that was.

Karin’s fingers curled around her pen.

She didn’t like this.

Not one bit.

Meanwhile, Sakura was completely oblivious to the brewing disaster around her. She was busy opening her notebook and writing something in the margin.

Ino leaned over “What are you writing?”

Sakura immediately covered the page, avoiding the blond intense gaze like it might burn her “Nothing.”

Ino narrowed her eyes “Sakura.”

Sakura slowly moved her arm. There, written in neat handwriting, was:

AKASUNA SASORI — BEAUTIFUL. RUDE. DELINQUENT. POSSIBLY DANGEROUS.

Beneath it, Sakura had added one final note.

Unfortunately, exactly my type.

Ino stared at the page. Then at Sakura. Then slowly lowered her head onto the desk. “We’re doomed.”

The intervention did not end with Ino’s dramatic declaration that they were “doomed.” 

If anything, that was merely the beginning of what would later be remembered as one of the most humiliating weeks in Sasuke Uchiha’s life. 

The group had decided that Sakura’s fixation on Akasuna Sasori could not be allowed to continue unchecked, and because nobody had a better idea, they had settled on the most obvious solution available to a group of teenagers with too much free time and absolutely no professional qualifications in romance: make Sakura fall for Sasuke instead. 

The problem was that Sasuke himself had not agreed to participate. He discovered the plan the following morning when Ino cornered him before class, folded her arms, and announced, “You’re going to help us.” 

Sasuke, who had been in the middle of opening his locker, stopped with one hand still gripping the metal door and slowly looked sideways at her. “No.” 

Ino blinked. “I haven’t even explained what we’re doing.” 

“I don’t care.” He turned back toward his locker. 

Ino grabbed the edge of the door before he could close it. “You’re going to distract Sakura.” 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” Ino leaned closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal a military secret. “Because she likes beautiful boys.” 

Sasuke’s expression didn’t change. “So?” 

Ino smiled. “You’re attractive.” 

He stared at her. “I know.”

“And she already thinks you’re handsome enough to catch her attention.” 

His fingers stopped on the locker handle. “…She does?” 

Ino immediately grinned. “Oh, you’re interested now.” 

Sasuke’s expression hardened. “I’m not interested.” 

“You’re literally standing straighter.”

“I’m standing normally.” 

“You’re fixing your hair.” 

Sasuke’s hand froze halfway through smoothing one unruly strand back. He slowly lowered it. 

Ino’s grin widened. “Got you.”

By lunch, the operation had officially begun, and Sasuke was already regretting every decision that had brought him to this school. The first attempt was supposed to be simple. Ino had instructed him to stand close to Sakura, talk to her, and generally allow his natural attractiveness to do the work. Sasuke considered this insultingly easy. 

He found Sakura sitting beneath one of the cherry trees, her notebook open on her lap while she doodled absentmindedly in the margin. He approached, stopped beside her, and deliberately stood closer than necessary. 

Sakura looked up immediately, her green eyes brightening when she recognized him. “Oh, Sasuke-kun.” 

Sasuke leaned one shoulder against the tree, crossing his arms and giving her what he clearly believed was a particularly attractive expression. “What are you doing?” 

Sakura glanced down at her notebook. “Drawing.” 

“What?” 

“Flowers.” 

He leaned slightly closer, close enough that his cologne became noticeable. Sakura’s nose immediately wrinkled. She sniffed once. Then again. Her expression became increasingly concerned. 

Sasuke’s confidence began to falter. “What?” 

Sakura waved one hand in front of her face. “Sasuke-kun…” 

“What?” He asked again.

“Did you put perfume on?” Sasuke stared. “No…maybe.”

Sakura leaned away from him. “It smells really strong.” 

His eyebrows drew together. “So?” 

She rubbed the tip of her nose with one finger. “It’s hurting my nose.” 

Sasuke’s face went blank. 

Sakura smiled apologetically and shifted farther along the bench. “Could you stand a little farther away?”

Sasuke stared at the space between them as though it had personally offended him. “You’re telling me to move?” 

Sakura nodded cheerfully. “Just a little.” 

He slowly stepped back. 

From behind another tree, Naruto immediately doubled over with silent laughter while Ino buried her face in her hands.

The second attempt was somehow worse. Sasuke sat beside Sakura during study period, and casually glanced toward hers. “What are you reading?” 

Sakura looked up from her book and showed him the cover. 

Sasuke nodded. “I forgot mine.” He slid his chair slightly closer. “Can we share?” 

Sakura blinked. “Sure.” 

Sasuke’s mouth curved faintly. “Good.” He opened her book between them. Sakura looked down at the page, then at him, then rummaged through her bag. 

Sasuke waited, expecting her to shift closer. Instead, Sakura pulled out absolutely nothing. She checked one pocket. Then another. Then she turned the bag upside down and shook it gently. “I forgot mine too...” 

Sasuke stared at her. “You...forgot your book for this class?” 

Sakura nodded. “Yes.” 

“Then why did you come to class?” 

“I don't know...” Her smile dropped for a minute then he eyes lit up “Oh! What if I sit with Hinata and you can ask Naruto? That way we won't have to worry about missing a book.” 

Sasuke’s eyelid twitched in disbelief.

Behind them, Ino silently dropped her forehead onto her desk. Naruto had to bite his sleeve to keep from laughing out loud. Sasuke stared at Sakura for several seconds before finally let out a breathe he had been holding “You’re impossible...” 

Sakura tilted her head. “Thank you!” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Oh...” 

Sasuke slowly looked toward the ceiling as though asking whatever deity governed his life why this was happening to him.

The third attempt involved a compliment. Sasuke approached Sakura after class while she was packing her bag, stopped beside her desk, and leaned one hand against the edge. “Your hair looks nice today.” 

Sakura’s hands paused over her books. Her eyes widened slightly before she turned toward him with a pleased smile. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. Your hair look nice today too!” 

Sasuke waited. 

Sakura tucked a pink strand behind her ear. “I washed it this morning.” 

Sasuke stared. “I can see that.” 

“Really? It took me forever to dry.” She gathered her hair over one shoulder and examined the ends critically. “My mother says it’s too long, but I like it this way.” She continue rambling about random things.

Sasuke’s mouth opened. Closed. He’d been expecting a blush. Maybe a shy smile. Perhaps some awkward gratitude. Instead, he’d accidentally started a conversation about shampoo. 

“Right,” he muttered. 

Sakura looked up. “What?” 

Sasuke pushed himself away from the desk. “Nothing.” He walked away. 

Sakura watched him go, then looked down at her hair. “That was nice of him.” From the doorway, Ino slowly lowered her head against the frame.

The group finally accepted that there was a fundamental flaw in their plan: Sakura was not rejecting Sasuke. She simply didn’t realize he was flirting with her. She interpreted everything through the most innocent possible explanation. If he stood too close, his perfume was too strong. If he wanted to share a book, he’d forgotten his. If he complimented her hair, he was apparently making polite conversation. If he stared at her, he was probably thinking. 

The more they tried, the more baffled Sakura became, while Sasuke’s pride suffered increasingly severe injuries. 

Karin, meanwhile, had been watching all of this from a distance with an expression that grew more horrifying every day. At first she had been annoyed. Then irritated. Then openly furious. But after watching Sakura casually dismiss three consecutive attempts from Sasuke without even realizing what was happening, Karin reached a point where she could no longer contain herself.

She cornered Sakura after class.

Sakura was standing at her locker, humming quietly while rearranging her books when Karin appeared beside her, arms crossed and glasses pushed higher onto her nose. “We need to talk.” 

Sakura looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Sure!” 

Karin’s expression tightened. “About Sasuke-kun.” 

Sakura immediately nodded. “Oh!” She shut her locker with a soft click and turned toward Karin, waiting patiently. 

Karin took a breath, visibly trying to organize her thoughts. “Sasuke-kun only hangs around you because you’re pathetic.” 

Sakura blinked. 

Karin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as though she’d finally gotten the first blow in. “He doesn’t actually like you. He’s just—” 

Sakura’s eyes suddenly widened with realization. Her mouth formed a little circle. “Oh my God.” 

Karin stopped. “…What?” Sakura grabbed both of Karin’s hands.

Karin’s entire body went rigid.

“You have a crush on Sasuke-kun!”

Karin’s face went completely blank. There was a moment when her brain visibly stopped functioning “…What?”

Sakura beamed at her, squeezing her hands enthusiastically. “That’s adorable!”

Karin yanked one hand free. “No, that’s not what I—”

“I understand that feelings!” Sakura continued, nodding vigorously. “He’s handsome. We're both into attractive people too! Oh and Sasuke-kun is not my type, so you don't have to be worry!”

Karin stared at her in horror “That’s not—”

“And you’ve liked him for a long time, haven’t you?”

“No! I-I mean yes but that's not the point!”

Sakura’s eyes softened with immediate sympathy, she smiled sweetly while holding Karin's hands with both of hers. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, like me—we should be straightforward with our feelings too.”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

“It’s okay!” Sakura patted her shoulder, offering her an awful sweet smile. “I get it. I think Sasuke-kun is handsome too, it's no wonder you like him!”

Karin’s mouth fell open “But I don’t like him like that!” she shouted, throwing both hands into the air.

Sakura blinked. Then smiled “That’s okay.”

Karin’s eye twitched “…What?”

“You don't have to hide it, I'll help you make him understand.”

Karin stared at her. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. But no word came out. She was gawking like a fish on land, completely horrified by the pinkette.

Sakura clasped her hands together beneath her chin, her face glowing with genuine excitement. “Actually, I’m happy you told me! We can help each other.”

Karin’s face slowly transformed from confusion into absolute horror.

“Support… each other?”

“Yes!” Sakura nodded enthusiastically. “I've been trying to get close to Sasori too! Let’s try hard together!”

Karin took one step backward.

Sakura took one step forward.

Karin took another step back.

Sakura followed.

“So,” Sakura continued brightly, “what do you like about Sasuke-kun? Well about me—Sasori is beautiful, not the type of normal handsome but he is pretty. Wait—if you know what I mean.”

Karin’s back hit the lockers. She stared at Sakura while the girl continue rambling her head out.

Sakura smiled at Karin. The smile sickened her to the point she wanted to run.

Karin looked left.

Then right.

There was nowhere to escape. She gulped“…You’re terrifying.”

Sakura’s smile faltered “I’m terrifying?”

Karin nodded frantically “Yes!”

Sakura’s expression softened “Oh.” She stepped back, giving Karin some space “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

Karin blinked.

That somehow made it worse. Because Sakura wasn’t mocking her. She wasn’t being smug. She genuinely believed she’d just made a new romantic ally.

Karin stared at the pink-haired girl for several seconds before slowly adjusting her glasses with a trembling finger “...I-I’m going home.”

Sakura waved “Okay! See you tomorrow Karin. Oh! Don't be shy and tell me everything about your feelings! We can discuss this together!”

Karin walked away, ignoring the pinkette voice in the background. Then walked faster. Then faster. Then, once she reached the end of the corridor, she broke into a full sprint. 

Sakura watched her disappear. She tilted her head, a palm on her cheek, “…She must be really shy.”

From around the corner, Karin pressed both hands against her cheeks and stared at the ceiling with the haunted expression of someone who had just survived an encounter with a particularly cheerful natural disaster.

“She’s insane.”

Back in the classroom, Ino listened to Sakura recount the conversation and slowly lowered her head onto her desk. “You told Karin you wanted to support her love for Sasuke?”

Sakura nodded proudly. “Yes!”

Naruto wheezed from the other side of the room. “She’s never going to recover.”

Sakura frowned. “Why?”

Ino lifted her head just enough to look at her “Because, Sakura…” She gestured helplessly toward the hallway where Karin had vanished“…you just scared the shit out of her.” The fact that Sasuke have something for the pinkette remains silent. 

Sakura’s mouth fell open“I did?!”

Naruto nodded enthusiastically“Yep.”

Sakura looked genuinely horrified “I need to apologize!”

Ino immediately grabbed her wrist “No.”

“Why?” Sakura questioned, confused.

Ino deadpans, sighing heavily at the unfortunate situation.“Because she’ll probably transfer schools.”

Sakura’s eyes widened “Really?”

“No.” Ino sighed “But give her a day.”

And somewhere down the hallway, Karin sneezed, shivered, and made a private decision that Haruno Sakura was significantly more frightening than Akasuna Sasori could ever hope to be.

By the following week, Sakura’s investigation into Akasuna Sasori had become something of an open secret among her friends, although Sakura herself remained convinced she was being remarkably subtle. 

She had stopped following him quite so obviously after the incident in the hallway, mostly because the memory of being pinned against a wall and having his breath brush her ear still made her face spontaneously combust whenever she thought about it, but she had not stopped trying to learn more about him. 

If anything, the embarrassment had made her curiosity worse. 

She wanted to know what he liked, what he disliked, where he spent his time, what sort of art he made, why everyone seemed to have a story about him, and, most importantly, why someone who looked like he’d been sculpted by a particularly talented artist had such a spectacularly terrible personality. 

The problem was that whenever Sakura tried asking anyone in the Konoha group about him, she received either warnings or vague answers. 

Naruto knew that Sasori was scary but couldn’t explain why. Kiba had heard rumors but had embellished half of them. Shikamaru simply told her, “He’s troublesome,” before returning to his book. 

Even Gaara, after Sakura had cornered him near the vending machines and asked whether he knew anything about the redhead, had merely looked at her for several seconds and said, “You should probably leave him alone.” 

Sakura had nodded thoughtfully. “That’s useful information.” 

Gaara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It wasn’t meant to encourage you.” 

“I know.” She smiled. “But it still tells me he’s interesting.”

The person who finally noticed just how far Sakura’s curiosity had gone wasn’t anyone from her class. 

It was Deidara. 

He had been walking beside Sasori after their afternoon classes, complaining loudly about something involving an art assignment, when he noticed a flash of pink several meters behind them. He kept talking for another few steps, then glanced over his shoulder. 

The pink-haired junior immediately stopped walking and pretended to become deeply fascinated by a tree. Deidara’s eyebrow rose. He turned forward again. “Danna.” 

Sasori barely glanced at him. “What?” 

Deidara pointed his thumb backward without bothering to turn around. “You’ve got a little shadow,hm” 

Sasori’s expression darkened immediately. “I know.” 

Deidara’s grin widened. “You know?” 

“I’ve known for days.” 

“And you haven’t done anything?” 

Sasori shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and continued walking. “I already told her to stop.” 

Deidara looked over his shoulder again. Sakura was still standing beside the tree, pretending to examine a leaf with such exaggerated concentration that even from this distance it was obvious she was pretending. 

Deidara’s mouth slowly opened. “Oh, this is fucking hilarious.” 

Sasori gave him a sideways glare. “Don’t.” 

“Danna, she’s been following you around like a lost puppy,hm.” Deidara’s shoulders began shaking. “A really tiny, pink-haired lost puppy.” 

Sasori’s jaw tightened. “Deidara.” 

“I’m just saying.” Deidara finally turned around and walked backward, grinning at Sakura. “She’s cute, hm.” 

Sasori’s eyes narrowed. “She’s annoying.” 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“I know what you said.”

Sakura realized she had been spotted when Deidara suddenly turned around and started walking directly toward her. Her eyes widened. She looked behind herself to make sure he wasn’t actually approaching someone else, found nobody there, and then pointed at her own chest in confusion. 

Deidara stopped directly in front of her and planted both hands on his hips. “You.” 

Sakura blinked. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He leaned down slightly, squinting at her. “What the hell are you doing following Danna around, hm?” 

Sakura’s fingers immediately tightened around the strap of her bag. She looked past him toward Sasori, who had stopped several meters away and was now watching the exchange with an expression of profound irritation. 

Sakura looked back at Deidara and answered with complete honesty. “I want to get to know him better.” 

Deidara stared at her. His mouth fell open. His shoulders dropped. For several seconds, he looked like someone had dropped a brick directly onto his skull. He slowly straightened and looked over his shoulder at Sasori. Sasori’s expression remained completely flat. 

Then Deidara looked back at Sakura. “You want to what?” 

Sakura clasped her hands behind her back and rocked lightly on her heels. “I want to know what he’s like.” 

Deidara pointed toward Sasori with both hands. “That guy?” 

Sakura nodded. “Yes.” 

Deidara stared at her as though she had just announced an interest in dating a rabid wolf. “You know he have bad reputation, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“He fights people.” 

“I’ve heard.” 

“He insults everyone.” 

“I’ve noticed.” 

“He once made a freshman cry for three days because the kid annoyed him.” 

Sakura’s expression changed slightly. “Three days?” 

“Three fucking days.” Deidara held up three fingers for emphasis. “He just kept insulting him every time he saw him.” 

Sakura’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s terrible.” 

“Exactly!” Deidara jabbed a finger toward her. “So leave him alone, hm!” 

Sakura nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.” 

Deidara’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.” 

Sakura looked toward Sasori again. “What did he say to make the freshman cry?” 

Deidara’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sakura listened patiently as Deidara continued his attempt to destroy her crush. He told her that Sasori was rude, antisocial, impatient, easily annoyed, difficult to approach, and apparently possessed of a sharp tongue capable of making grown seniors reconsider their life choices. 

He described how Sasori would rather spend an entire afternoon alone with his art than attend some pointless social gathering, how he hated being interrupted while working, how he could turn a perfectly ordinary conversation into an argument within thirty seconds, and how he had a terrible habit of staring at people until they became uncomfortable enough to leave. 

Sakura occasionally nodded, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin. “Anything else?” 

Deidara stared at her in disbelief. “Anything else?!” he repeated, throwing his arms outward. “How much more do you need?” 

Sakura smiled. “I just want to know what he likes too.” 

Deidara’s eye twitched. “He likes art.” 

“I know.” 

“He likes being left alone.” 

“I know.” 

“He likes annoying people less than you annoy him.” 

“I know.” 

“He hates waiting.” 

“I know.” 

Deidara stared at her. “Then why are you still interested?” 

Sakura’s expression softened. She glanced toward Sasori again, who was now leaning against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for Deidara to finish whatever ridiculous conversation he’d gotten himself involved in. 

“Because,” Sakura said quietly, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag, “I don’t think someone’s bad reputation tells me everything about them.” 

Deidara’s grin faded for just a moment. 

Sakura continued, her voice warm but matter-of-fact. “Besides, if he’s really that unpleasant, I’d rather find out myself.” Then she smiled again. “And he’s beautiful.”

Deidara stared at her for another few seconds before dragging both hands down his face. “Of course.” He looked toward the sky. “Of fucking course that’s your reason.” 

Sakura giggled. “It’s a good reason.” 

“No, it isn’t,hm.” Deidara sighed dramatically, then suddenly grinned. “Fine.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You want information about Sasori-Danna?” 

Sakura’s eyes immediately lit up. “Yes!” 

Deidara glanced over his shoulder toward Sasori, who was now visibly suspicious. “Then I’ll give you information.” 

Sakura pulled out her notebook so quickly that Deidara actually laughed. “You carry a notebook for this?” 

“Research is important.” 

“You’re terrifying.” He leaned over the notebook and began listing things while Sakura wrote furiously. Sasori’s favorite lunch. The days he avoided the cafeteria. The art room he usually occupied. The courtyard where he sometimes sat. The drinks he bought from the vending machine. Foods he liked. Foods he hated. Things that annoyed him. Things he could tolerate. 

Deidara even told her which paths Sasori usually took between classes. Every time Sakura asked another question, Deidara answered with increasingly enthusiastic detail, mostly because he had realized something wonderful: he was handing Sakura a detailed instruction manual for irritating Sasori, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his friend’s face when he discovered it.

Sasori, meanwhile, had watched the entire exchange from a distance with an expression that became steadily darker. When Deidara finally returned, Sasori pushed away from the pillar and folded his arms. “What did you tell her?” 

Deidara smiled innocently. “Nothing important, hm.” 

Sasori’s eyes narrowed. “Deidara.” 

“Relax.” Deidara clapped him on the shoulder and immediately started walking. “I just helped a junior with her research.” 

Sasori watched him go, then looked toward Sakura. She was standing several meters away, clutching her notebook against her chest with a smile that could have powered the entire campus. 

The moment their eyes met, she gave him an enthusiastic little wave. Sasori stared at her hand. Then at her face. Then slowly closed his eyes. “…I’m going to kill him.” 

From farther down the path, Deidara shouted, “I heard that, Danna!”

The information proved useful almost immediately. Sakura discovered that Sasori avoided the cafeteria every Monday, apparently because he hated the crowd and the noise, and that he preferred a particular lunch when he couldn’t avoid eating there. 

Unfortunately, this created a new problem. Sakura wanted to do something nice for him. A drink seemed too little. A snack seemed impersonal. A gift would be far too obvious. Then she remembered something her mother had told her: If you want to know someone, sometimes the easiest way is to make something for them. Sakura had nodded solemnly when she heard that advice. Sadly, she had forgotten to mention one small detail.

She couldn’t cook.

Her first attempt at making rice resulted in something that could only generously be described as rice-shaped. Her second attempt involved a frying pan, an egg, and a quantity of oil that her mother later described as “a cry for help.” 

Sakura stood in the kitchen with flour on her cheek and a spatula in one hand, staring down at the disaster in front of her. Her mother stood several feet away with her arms folded, watching her daughter’s romantic efforts with the exhausted expression of a woman who had raised this child for sixteen years and therefore knew exactly how dangerous this was. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mebuki asked. 

Sakura nodded firmly, lifting the spatula like a sword. “Absolutely.” 

“You’re trying to impress a boy.” 

“Yes.”

“A boy you’ve known for about a week.” 

Sakura hesitated. “…Yes.” 

Her mother sighed. “At least you’re consistent.” 

Sakura turned back toward the stove, cheeks puffed in determination. “I’m going to make him a bento.” 

Mebuki watched her daughter immediately burn something else. She slowly reached for the fire extinguisher.

By Monday morning, Sakura had finally produced something that looked edible, thanks largely to her mother’s intervention and Sakura’s refusal to admit defeat. She carefully packed the bento, checked it three times, then checked it a fourth time because she suddenly became convinced she’d accidentally put salt where sugar belonged. 

She found Sasori’s classroom using the information Deidara had given her, crept down the hallway while glancing around every few seconds, and finally slipped the bento onto his desk. 

Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it. She looked at the door. Nobody. She looked down at the bento. Still there. Then she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Sakura panicked.

 She grabbed her bag and ran.

She barely made it behind the nearest corner before Sasori entered the classroom. He stopped beside his desk. Something was sitting there.

A neatly wrapped bento.

Sasori stared at the bento sitting on his desk as though it had personally offended him. It was neatly packed, almost suspiciously neat, with several small dishes arranged inside the container and a pair of chopsticks tucked beside it. There was no note. No name. No explanation. Nothing that told him why someone had decided to leave food on his desk without permission. 

He glanced around the classroom again, his eyes narrowing as he searched for whoever had apparently decided that his personal belongings were public property. 

Nobody was there. The classroom was still mostly empty, the morning light spilling across the desks while the faint sound of students moving through the hallway drifted in from outside. 

Sasori picked up the bento with two fingers, turning it slightly as though inspecting an unfamiliar object. “What the fuck is this?” he muttered, his thumb tapping against the lid. 

A familiar voice answered from behind him. “Food?” 

Sasori’s head snapped around. Deidara stood in the doorway, one hand hooked around the strap of his bag, his blond hair falling over one eye as he stared at the bento. 

The corner of his mouth immediately lifted. “Oh.” 

Sasori’s eyes narrowed. “You know something.” 

Deidara stepped into the room, trying and failing to hide his grin. “Maybe,hm.” 

Sasori held the bento up slightly. “Explain.” 

Deidara shrugged, dropping his bag onto the nearest desk. “Why don’t you open it?” 

“Because I don’t know where it came from.” 

“So?” 

“So I don’t eat unidentified objects.” 

Deidara snorted. “It’s a fucking bento, Danna, not a bomb.” 

Sasori slowly looked at him. “Considering the people around here, that’s not a guarantee.”

Deidara’s grin widened when he noticed something peeking out from beneath the bento container: a tiny pink sticker shaped like a rabbit. He pointed at it with one finger. “That’s cute,hm.” 

Sasori’s expression darkened. “Don’t.” 

“What?” Deidara crouched beside the desk, examining the container with exaggerated interest. “I’m just saying, whoever made this has taste.” 

Sasori set the bento down again and folded his arms. “Who made it?” 

Deidara’s eyebrows rose innocently. “Why would I know?” 

“Because you’re smiling.” 

“I smile all the time.” 

“Not like that.” Deidara’s grin grew even wider. “Maybe someone has a crush on you, hm.” 

Sasori’s face remained blank. “That’s stupid.” 

“Is it?” Deidara leaned closer to the bento, sniffed it, then immediately straightened. “Smells good.” 

Sasori’s gaze sharpened. “Eat it.” 

Deidara froze. “What?” 

Sasori pushed the bento toward him. “You heard me.” 

Deidara stared at the container, then at 
Sasori, then slowly pointed at himself. “Why the hell am I eating it?” 

Sasori’s expression didn’t change. “Because you seem very confident that it’s safe.” 

“I said it smells good!” 

“Then eat it.” Deidara’s mouth dropped open. “Danna, that’s not how friendship works.” 

Sasori leaned one hip against the desk and crossed his arms. “Eat.” 

Deidara stared at him for several seconds before sighing dramatically. “If I die, I’m haunting you.” He picked up the chopsticks, opened the container, and took a cautious bite while Sasori watched him with the cold concentration of someone observing a laboratory experiment.

Nothing happened.

Deidara chewed. He swallowed, waited. Then looked at Sasori “…It’s good.”

Sasori’s eyes narrowed slightly “You’re alive.”

“Yeah, thanks for noticing,hm.”

“Then it’s safe.”

Deidara stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your conclusion?”

Sasori ignored him and picked up the chopsticks. He took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. The food wasn’t perfect. The rice was slightly uneven, one of the vegetables had clearly been cut by someone with limited knife skills, and the seasoning was a little inconsistent, but it was warm, homemade, and surprisingly decent. 

Sasori’s eyes dropped to the bento again. There was something strangely careful about the way everything had been arranged. Whoever made it had put effort into this. He glanced at Deidara.

“Who made it?”

Deidara’s grin returned “I thought you didn’t care.”

Sasori’s fingers tightened slightly around the chopsticks “I asked a question.”

Deidara leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms with a smug little smile. “Maybe you should figure that out yourself, Danna.”

Sasori stared at him.

Deidara stared back.

Then Sasori calmly reached over, picked up one of Deidara’s notebooks, and threw it at his head “Ow!”

“Tell me.”

“Violence isn’t going to make me talk!”

Sasori picked up another notebook.

“Okay! Okay!” Deidara raised both hands. “Jesus, put that down.” He laughed as Sasori lowered the notebook. “It’s your little pink stalker.”

Sasori’s expression became completely still “…Sakura?” 

Deidara’s eyebrows shot upward. “You remember her name?”

Sasori’s gaze hardened“She told me.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

Deidara stared at him for a second, then slowly smiled. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Sasori ignored him and looked back down at the bento.

Somewhere else in the school, Sakura was hiding behind a pillar.

She was currently peeking around the corner toward Sasori’s classroom, her eyes wide with nervous anticipation. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest, and both hands were covered in small bandages. There were tiny pastel stickers decorating several of them—little rabbits, flowers, stars, and one particularly ridiculous pink bear that Sakura had insisted was “morale support.” 

Her fingers were wrapped in different places, one across her index finger, another around her thumb, and a larger bandage covered the side of her palm. 

She had managed to burn herself while cooking, nick her finger while cutting vegetables, and somehow scrape her hand against the edge of a pan in the process. Her mother had taken one look at her collection of injuries and asked whether she had been preparing lunch or fighting in a war.

Sakura had insisted that it was worth it.

Now she peeked around the pillar again. She could see Sasori. He was eating. Her eyes immediately widened. “He’s eating it.” She pressed both bandaged hands against her cheeks.

“He’s actually eating it!” She bounced once on the balls of her feet before remembering that she was supposed to be hiding.

Her fingers curled excitedly. “Please like it.” She leaned farther around the pillar. Then immediately ducked back when Sasori’s head turned. Her heart jumped.

“Oh no.” She pressed herself against the wall“Did he see me?”

She waited.

Nothing.

Slowly, she peeked again. Sasori was still eating. A huge smile spread across Sakura’s face. Her eyes softened. She looked down at her bandaged fingers and gently flexed them, wincing when one of the cuts pulled slightly beneath the tape.

“It was worth it.”

Back inside the classroom, Sasori’s eyes lingered on the bento for a moment longer. Deidara was watching him with the unmistakable expression of someone who had just discovered a new source of entertainment.

“You know,” Deidara drawled, resting his chin against one hand, “she must’ve worked pretty hard on that.”

Sasori glanced at him “What makes you say that?”

Deidara pointed toward the hallway “Because she probably burned down her kitchen.”

Sasori’s eyebrow lifted “What?”

“Her hands were all bandaged this morning.” Deidara grinned. “Cute little stickers everywhere too. She looked like a five-year-old who lost a fight with a frying pan, hm.”

Sasori’s gaze dropped to the bento. For some reason, he suddenly imagined those ridiculous little bandages wrapped around Sakura’s fingers.

He clicked his tongue softly “Idiot.”

Deidara’s grin widened “You sound concerned.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,hm.”

Sasori calmly picked up his chopsticks “Keep talking.”

Deidara immediately shut his mouth.

Outside the classroom, Sakura peeked around the corner again, saw Sasori take another bite, and quietly pressed her bandaged hands over her heart. Her smile was so bright it could have lit the entire corridor. 

Monday had officially become her favorite day of the week.

The following Monday, Sakura arrived at school with both hands suspiciously hidden behind her back. 

This was immediately noticed by Ino, who had known her for barely long enough to recognize the particular expression Sakura wore whenever she was hiding something stupid. 

Sakura walked through the classroom with an innocent smile, dropped her bag beside her chair, and carefully sat down. 

Ino watched her for three seconds before leaning across the aisle and squinting. “What did you do?” 

Sakura blinked. “Nothing.” 

Ino pointed at her hands. “Then why are you hiding them?” 

Sakura tucked them farther behind her back. “I’m not.” 

“You literally just put both hands behind you.” 

“That’s where my hands happen to be.” 

Ino narrowed her eyes. “Show me.” 

Sakura smiled nervously. “No.” 

Hinata, who had been quietly arranging her pencils, glanced between them before asking softly, “Sakura-chan… did you hurt yourself?” 

Sakura’s shoulders dropped. “…No?” 

Ino immediately reached for her wrist. “Let me see.” 

Sakura tried to pull away. “It’s not that bad!” 

“That sentence has never once meant anything good when you say it.” Ino finally caught her hand and pulled it forward, revealing several bandages wrapped around Sakura’s fingers and palm. Tiny stickers covered nearly every available surface—pink rabbits, little flowers, stars, and one particularly cheerful bear sitting directly across her index finger. 

Ino stared. 

Hinata’s eyes widened. 

Sakura gave them a sheepish smile. “Cute, right?” 

Ino slowly raised her head. “What the hell happened?” 

Sakura rubbed the back of her neck with her uninjured hand. “I was cooking.” 

Ino’s expression went blank. “You were cooking?” 

“Yes.” 

“And your hands look like that?” 

Sakura nodded. “I had a small disagreement with the frying pan.” 

Hinata covered her mouth. “A disagreement?” 

Sakura nodded solemnly. “It won.”

Ino stared at the bandages, then at Sakura’s face, and something clicked. Her eyes narrowed. “This was for Sasori, wasn’t it?” 

Sakura immediately looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sakura.” 

“Yes?” 

“Look at me.” 

Sakura slowly turned her head. Ino pointed at her bandaged fingers. “You cooked for him again, didn’t you?” 

Sakura’s cheeks became pink. “Maybe.” 

“You’re insane.” 

Sakura brightened. “Thank you.” 

“Stop taking that as a compliment!” Ino dropped her forehead against the desk with a groan. “You nearly killed yourself for a delinquent.” 

Sakura frowned. “I didn’t nearly kill myself.” 

“You have enough bandages to qualify as a mummy.” 

Sakura examined her fingers thoughtfully. “They’re cute bandages.” 

“That’s not the point.” 

Hinata leaned closer, her eyes softening when she noticed the tiny bear sticker. “Did you make another bento?” 

Sakura immediately looked excited. “Yes!” 

She reached into her bag and carefully pulled out a neatly wrapped lunchbox. “I made this one myself.” 

Ino’s eyes widened. “Your mother didn’t help?” 

Sakura hesitated. “…She supervised.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“She supervised very aggressively.” 

Hinata smiled. “I’m sure Sasori-san will appreciate it.” 

Sakura’s whole face brightened. “I hope so.”

Unfortunately, the moment Sakura entered Sasori’s classroom that morning, she discovered that her Monday bento had already become something she had not anticipated: an expectation. 

Sasori walked into the room, dropped his bag beside his desk, and immediately looked down. Nothing. He frowned. His eyes swept across the desk once. Empty. He checked the chair. Nothing. Then he glanced toward the door. Still nothing. 

Deidara, who had been sitting nearby and watching him, slowly lowered the book he was reading. “Looking for something, Danna?” 

Sasori’s expression didn’t change. “No.” 

Deidara’s grin appeared instantly. “You sure,hm?” 

Sasori looked at him. “Yes.” 

“Because you’ve checked your desk three times.” 

Sasori’s fingers paused on the edge of his chair. “I was looking at the desk.” 

“For ten seconds?” 

“It’s my desk.” 

Deidara snorted. “Right.” 

Sasori pulled his chair out and sat down, crossing one ankle over his knee. He opened his book. Turned a page. Read nothing. His eyes flicked toward the door again. 

Deidara noticed. Of course he did. “You know,” he said casually, propping his cheek against one fist, “Mondays are pretty boring without surprises.” 

Sasori’s eyes remained on the page. “You’re irritating.” 

“You miss the bento,hm.” The page stopped turning. 

Sasori slowly looked at him. “I don’t.” 

Deidara’s grin became unbearable. “You do.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You checked your desk three times,hm. Need to remind agian?” 

“Shut up, brat.” 

Deidara laughed under his breath. “You’re adorable, Sasori-Danna.”

At that exact moment, a pair of small hands appeared around the classroom door. Sakura peeked inside. She saw Sasori sitting at his desk. Her eyes immediately brightened. 

Then she noticed there was no bento. Her smile faltered. She looked down at the lunchbox in her hands, then back toward Sasori. “Maybe he’s not hungry today,” she whispered.

Unfortunately, Sasori heard her. His head turned. Their eyes met. Sakura froze almost too awkwardly.

Sasori’s eyes dropped immediately to the lunchbox. Then to her bandaged hands. His eyebrows drew together “What happened to your hands?”

Sakura instinctively hid them behind the lunchbox. “Nothing.”

Sasori stared. She smiled. He stared harder. Sakura’s smile became increasingly nervous “…I burned myself.”

His expression darkened “Doing what?”

“Cooking.”

“Why?”

Sakura blinked, she hadn't expect the question, especially from Sasori. Then looked at the bento. Then back at him “…Because I wanted to make something.”

Sasori’s eyes narrowed slightly “For me?”

Sakura’s face immediately turned red. She hugged the lunchbox against her chest“…Maybe.”

Deidara slowly looked between them. His grin spread. Sasori noticed immediately “Don’t.” His tone warning.

“I didn’t say anything,hm.” Deidara put two hands on the air as a sign of defeat.

“Your stupid face did.”

Deidara covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking. He was trying too hard to control his laughter bit failed unfortunately. Not that he even want to hide.

Sakura, oblivious to the silent exchange, stepped farther into the classroom and placed the bento on Sasori’s desk. 

Her bandaged fingers lingered on the lid for a moment before she withdrew them. “I made it again.” She smiled shyly, rubbing her thumb against the edge of her skirt. “It’s Monday.”

Sasori looked at the lunchbox. Then at her hands. Then back at the lunchbox “You shouldn’t hurt yourself over food.”

Sakura blinked. Something warm fluttered in her chest. “…Are you...worried about me?”

Sasori’s eyes immediately narrowed “No.”

“Oh.” She looked slightly disappointed. Then smiled again “Okay.”

Sasori frowned.

For some reason, that tiny change in her expression bothered him.

He picked up the bento “I’ll eat it.”

Sakura’s eyes widened “Really?”

He gave her an irritated look“Why else would I pick it up?” 

Her smile exploded across her face. “Thank you!” She turned toward the door, nearly bouncing on her feet.

Then Sasori called after her “Sakura.”

She stopped and looked back. He held up the lunchbox slightly “…Don’t burn yourself again.”

Her eyes widened. Her cheeks slowly turned pink. Then she gave him the brightest smile he’d seen all morning or even in his entire life “I’ll try.”

She disappeared through the doorway. Sasori stared after her for a moment. Deidara waited. Then waited a little longer. Finally, he leaned toward his friend “Danna.”

Sasori opened the bento “What?”

Deidara grinned “You’re fucked.”

Sasori didn’t even look at him “Eat your own lunch.”

Deidara laughed.

And for the first time, Sasori didn’t wonder where the Monday bento had come from.

He knew.

And somehow, that was much more troublesome.

Sakura was supposed to be in bed.

That was the official diagnosis, the maternal order, and the arrangement agreed upon between her mother and the school three days ago after Sakura had woken up with a fever and looked sufficiently miserable for Mebuki to decide that sending her to school would be cruel. 

Mebuki had called the academy herself, informed them that her daughter would be absent for three days, and then spent the remainder of the morning fussing over Sakura with the determination of a woman who had apparently forgotten that her daughter was sixteen and not six. 

Unfortunately, Sakura recovered with almost insulting speed. 

By the afternoon of the first day, her fever had disappeared. 

By the following morning, she was sitting upright in bed, staring at the ceiling with the unmistakable expression of someone who had already decided that being sick was boring. 

“I’m better,” she announced. 

Mebuki, who was folding laundry nearby, didn’t even look up. “Wonderful.” 

Sakura pushed herself out of bed. “So I can go outside.” 

“No.” 

She froze with one foot halfway into her slipper. “Why?”

“Because you’re supposed to rest.” 

“But I’m not sick anymore.” 

“You were sick yesterday.” 

“Yesterday was yesterday.” 

Mebuki finally looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “And today is today, which is why you’re staying home.” 

Sakura puffed out her cheeks. “That’s unfair...” 

“Life is cruel.” Her mother returned to folding laundry. 

Sakura stared at her for several seconds, then slowly sat back down. She lasted approximately three hours before deciding that fresh air was medically necessary. 

By lunchtime, she had changed into casual clothes, tied her long pink hair back with a ribbon, slipped out of the house, and was wandering around town with a pastry in one hand and absolutely no guilt in her heart. 

After all, she wasn’t sick anymore. She was simply enjoying the free time her illness had accidentally given her. As far as Sakura was concerned, that was practically responsible behavior.

She spent the next couple of days doing exactly what a sixteen-year-old with unexpected freedom would do: wandering through shops, browsing stationery she didn’t need, stopping at a bookstore because she had promised herself she would only look and then somehow leaving with three books, and eating enough snacks to make her mother question whether she’d secretly been starving at home. 

By the third day, she had become so comfortable with her temporary vacation that she’d almost forgotten she was technically supposed to be recovering. 

She was walking home through a quieter part of town in the late afternoon, swinging a small shopping bag against her leg while humming to herself, when she heard shouting from an alley. Sakura’s steps slowed. Her eyes shifted toward the narrow passage between two buildings. 

There were several voices coming from inside—angry ones, loud enough to carry into the street. She stopped at the entrance and peered around the corner. Seven, maybe eight men stood inside, their bodies blocking most of the alley. Something was happening in the center, but the shadows made it difficult to see. 

Sakura’s first thought was immediate and sensible. Nope. She turned around. Absolutely not. She wasn’t stupid. There were too many of them, they looked considerably older and stronger than her, and she had no intention of becoming involved in somebody else’s fight only to end up having to explain to her mother why she’d come home with a black eye. She took one step away. Then another. Then another.

On the fourth step, she stopped.

There, between two of the men, something caught the dying sunlight.

Red.

Sakura’s body went completely still.

Even in the darkness, even from that distance, she knew that color. She had spent the past several weeks seeing it in hallways, beneath trees, across crowded classrooms, framed around the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. 

Her fingers tightened around the shopping bag. She slowly turned her head back toward the alley. Another flash of crimson appeared as someone shoved the person in the middle hard enough to make him stagger. Sakura’s heart dropped. 

“Sasori…” she whispered. 

There was no mistaking him now. His red hair was disheveled, his uniform was torn in places, and even from where she stood she could see blood darkening one side of his face. 

Sakura’s first instinct was to run inside. Her second was immediately overridden by common sense. Seven people. She swallowed. Maybe eight. She looked down at herself. She was sixteen, carrying a shopping bag, and had exactly zero weapons, zero backup, and zero interest in discovering whether her pink hair could be used as a distraction. 

“Okay,” she whispered, taking out her phone with trembling fingers. “Think.” Her eyes remained fixed on Sasori. He was still standing. Barely. “I can’t fight all of them.” She swallowed hard. “So I won’t.” Her thumb moved across the screen. She called the police.

The next few minutes felt painfully long. Sakura crouched behind the corner of the building, keeping herself hidden while explaining what she had seen and giving the location as clearly as she could. 

She peeked around the edge once, saw Sasori stumble again, and immediately pressed the phone harder against her ear. “Please hurry,” she whispered. “There’s someone injured.” 

When the distant sound of sirens finally reached the alley, Sakura exhaled so sharply that her shoulders dropped. The men inside noticed the approaching vehicles too late. 

Officers rushed into the alley, shouting commands, and the group scattered in panic before being restrained one by one. Sakura stayed where she was until the situation was under control, then cautiously stepped forward. 

One officer spotted her and approached. “Were you the one who called?” Sakura nodded quickly, clasping her hands together in front of herself. 

“Yes.” Her eyes flicked toward Sasori. He was unconscious now, slumped against the wall with blood on his face and his breathing shallow but steady. The officer followed her gaze. “Do you know him?” Sakura hesitated for precisely half a second. Then she looked back at the officer with the most innocent expression she could produce. “Yes.” 

“What happened?” 

Sakura’s fingers tightened together. “They were bullying him...I think.” She lowered her eyes, letting her voice become small and worried. “They wanted him to help them do something bad, but he refused, and then they started beating him.” 

The officer looked toward Sasori, then back at Sakura. “You’re sure?” 

Sakura nodded firmly. “Yes.” She even managed a tiny, frightened-looking frown. “He wouldn’t do something like that.” 

It was an outrageous lie. She knew perfectly well that Sasori’s reputation suggested he was capable of doing plenty of questionable things, but the officers believe her anyway, because she looks about as threatening as a flowerpot...After a few more questions, they accepted her account and turned their attention back to the men they’d arrested.

Sakura waited until the officers were occupied before crouching beside Sasori. 

Up close, the injuries looked considerably worse. Blood had dried near his temple, one side of his face was bruised, and his breathing changed whenever he shifted. 

Sakura’s heart twisted painfully at the sight. “Sasori?” She touched his shoulder gently. He didn’t respond. “Hey.” Nothing. She glanced around helplessly before biting her lip. 

She couldn’t leave him here. The hospital would mean questions. Questions meant his name, his school, his reputation, and eventually someone asking why a sixteen-year-old girl had been following him around. 

More importantly, something inside Sakura rebelled against the idea of simply walking away. 

So she made a decision that was simultaneously compassionate, reckless, and extremely stupid. She crouched down in front of him, carefully pulled his arms over her shoulders, and tried to stand. 

“Come on…” Her knees immediately buckled. “Oh my God.” She nearly collapsed beneath his weight. Sasori was considerably heavier than she had anticipated. 

Sakura gritted her teeth, adjusted his arms around her shoulders, and tried again. “You are…” she panted, taking one shaky step forward, “…way too heavy.” Sasori, being unconscious, offered no apology. “I’m serious.” Another step. “You could at least cooperate.” Nothing. Sakura grimaced and tightened her grip. “When you wake up, I’m charging you for this.” She took another step. “Actually, no. I’m charging you for emotional damages.” She stumbled. “And physical damages.” Another step. “And possibly transportation fees.” 

By the time she finally reached her house, Sakura was sweating, exhausted, and completely certain that carrying a delinquent senior home was the worst workout anyone had ever invented.

Fortunately, Mebuki was still away with her old college friends, which meant Sakura managed to get Sasori inside without having to explain why there was an unconscious eighteen-year-old boy bleeding all over her house. 

She dragged him into her room, lowered him carefully onto her bed, and immediately switched into the frantic efficiency she’d inherited from somewhere she didn’t know. 

She cleaned the blood from his face, checked his injuries, prepared medicine, changed the cold compresses whenever they warmed, and kept water beside the bed in case he woke. 

She even prepared soup because she knew he would probably need something easy to eat once he regained consciousness. 

By the time she finished, the room smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm broth, and Sakura was sitting beside the bed with her chin resting against her folded arms. Her fingers were still trembling. She looked at Sasori’s sleeping face for a long moment, noticing things she’d never paid attention to before—the faint crease between his brows even while unconscious, the tension around his mouth, the way his fingers occasionally twitched when pain moved through him. 

She reached out, hesitated, then gently pulled the blanket higher over his shoulder. “You idiot,” she whispered. “Why do you keep getting hurt?”

Hours later, Sasori woke.

His eyes opened abruptly.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then his gaze swept across the unfamiliar room, taking in the bed beneath him, the medicine on the nearby table, the bowl of water, and the pink-haired girl asleep in a chair beside him with her head tilted awkwardly against the mattress. His expression hardened immediately. He pushed himself upright.

Pain exploded through his head.

He hissed, one hand flying to his temple.

The movement woke Sakura instantly. She jerked upright, hair sticking out around her face. “You’re awake!” 

Sasori looked at her. Recognition flickered. His eyes narrowed. “You.” 

Sakura’s face brightened despite her exhaustion. “Me?” She stood too quickly and nearly tripped over the chair. 

“Careful,” she muttered to herself before grabbing the edge of the bed. “You were hurt really badly, so I brought you here, Sasori.” 

Sasori looked toward the door. Then the window. 

Sakura immediately understood what he was thinking. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touched the floor. His knees immediately gave way. 

Sakura caught him around the shoulders. “I told you!” 

Sasori jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” 

Sakura stumbled backward, startled. Sasori gritted his teeth and tried to stand again. He made it halfway before pain shot through his leg and forced him back onto the mattress. His breathing became heavier. 

Sakura stood a few feet away, hands clenched at her sides. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

“Watch me.” 

“You’re injured.” 

“I noticed.” 

“Your leg is hurt.” 

“I said I noticed.” 

Sakura frowned. “Then stop trying to walk!” 

Sasori glared at her. “You brought me here without my permission.” 

Sakura crossed her arms. “Because you were unconscious.” 

“You should’ve left me.” 

“No.” 

His eyes sharpened. “Why?” 

Sakura opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because there were too many answers. Because she knew him. Because she liked him. Because she’d seen his blood. Because the thought of leaving him there had made her sick. Because she care.

Instead, she simply whispered, “Because I couldn’t.”

Sasori looked away.

A few minutes later, Sakura returned carrying a bowl of warm soup. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed and held the bowl with both hands, blowing gently across the surface before lifting the spoon. “You should eat.” 

Sasori looked at the spoon, then at her. “I can feed myself.” 

Sakura hesitated. “Your hands are shaking.” 

“They’re fine.” 

“They’re not.” She lifted the spoon anyway. “Just let me—” 

Sasori slapped her hand away. The spoon clattered against the bowl, splashing hot broth across Sakura’s fingers. She flinched and immediately set it down. His voice was cold. “I don’t need someone like you.”

Sakura froze. 

Sasori looked toward the window. “You should’ve left me there.” 

Her fingers curled slowly against the blanket. “Sasori…” 

“Let me die outside in the cold if that’s what would’ve happened.” 

Sakura stared at him. Her eyes began to shine. 

He didn’t look at her. “I don’t need your pity.” 

Her lower lip trembled. She tried to swallow it down. She really did. She reached for the bowl again, but her fingers were shaking too badly. A tear slipped down her cheek. “Why would you say that?”

Sasori finally looked at her. 

Sakura was crying. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just quietly, helplessly, with her shoulders trembling and her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the bowl as though she was trying desperately not to drop it.

“You don’t have to like me,” she whispered, wiping her cheek with the back of her wrist. “You don’t have to be nice to me. You don’t have to return my feelings.” Her voice broke. “You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” She looked down at the soup, blinking rapidly as more tears gathered. 

“But don’t tell me to let you die.” 

Sasori said nothing. 

Sakura’s hands tightened around the bowl. “I don’t want you to throw away your life away like that.” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to keep getting hurt.” 

Her eyes finally lifted to his. “I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me because I like you.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I just…” 

She pressed a trembling hand against her chest. “I care about you.” The words came out broken and small. “I thought I liked you because you were beautiful.” She gave a tiny, miserable laugh through her tears. “And you’re still ridiculously beautiful. It’s actually unfair.” 

Sasori’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes remained fixed on her. 

Sakura sniffled and wiped her face again. “But that’s not it.” She swallowed hard. “Seeing you bleeding and lay there unmoving scared me.” 

Her voice cracked completely. “Because when I thought you might die, I didn’t care about anything else.” 

She lowered her head. “So you don’t have to love me. You don’t have to like me. Just…” Her fingers trembled around the spoon. “Please don’t throw your life away.”

For once, Sasori had nothing cruel to say. He simply looked at the girl sitting beside him, her hair a mess, her cheeks wet with tears, her hands still bearing tiny ridiculous stickers over fresh bandages, and the realization settled somewhere uncomfortable in his mind: she wasn’t looking at him the way she had when they’d first met. She wasn’t staring at his face anymore. She was looking at him. 

He didn’t understand why that bothered him. He didn’t understand why her crying made something inside his chest tighten. He only knew that he suddenly hated the sight of tears on her face. After several seconds, he reached out and took the spoon from her trembling fingers. Sakura looked up, startled. 

Sasori scooped up some soup himself, his expression still sour. “Stop crying.” 

Sakura sniffled. “Then stop saying stupid things.” 

He paused.

“…Fair.”

And for the first time since she’d met him, Sakura didn’t think Sasori looked beautiful.

She thought he looked human.

Sasori recovered over the next few days. Sakura’s cooking remained questionable, her medical care surprisingly competent, and her mother thankfully stayed away long enough for the entire situation to remain their secret. 

Once he could walk properly again, Sasori returned to school with the Akatsuki trailing around him as usual, but something had changed. He didn’t mention Sakura. He didn’t ask Deidara about her. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he had spent several days in her house. 

But the moment he stepped through the school gates, his eyes began searching the courtyard, the hallways, the garden, the library—anywhere that pink hair might appear. It took him several minutes to realize what he was doing. 

He clicked his tongue, irritated with himself. My pink-haired junior. The thought came so naturally that it annoyed him even more. Her words had lodged somewhere in his mind and refused to leave. 

You don’t have to return my feelings. I just care about you. Please don’t throw your life away. 

He wanted to know whether she had meant it. Whether she really cared about him or whether she’d simply been overwhelmed by the situation. He wanted to know what she thought about his reputation, what she thought about the things people said about him, whether knowing everything would change the way she looked at him. 

Most irritatingly, beneath all those questions was one he refused to acknowledge: he had missed seeing her.

When Sasori finally appeared at Sakura’s homeroom, the entire room went silent. 

Sasori stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, his red hair falling messily around his face. 

Deidara and the others were visible farther down the hallway, which only made the situation look considerably worse. 

Naruto stopped talking. Kiba’s ears practically seemed to perk up. Ino immediately looked at Sakura with alarm. Karin’s face lost all its color. Even Sasuke was alarmed, he stood—being closest to Sakura, he was ready to shove her behind him in case the redhead do something.

Sakura herself looked up from her desk, blinked once, and smiled. 

Sasori’s eyes moved across the classroom before settling on her. “Sakura.” 

Everyone froze. 

Sakura stood immediately. “Yes?” 

Sasori nodded toward the door. “Come outside.” 

The room collectively inhaled. Ino grabbed Sakura’s wrist before she could move. “Wait.” 

Sakura looked down at her hand. “Why?” 

Ino whispered, “Because Akasuna Sasori just came looking for you!” 

Sakura blinked. “I know.” 

“That’s the problem!” 

Naruto leaned over his desk. “Did you do something?” 

Sakura shook her head. “No.” 

Kiba whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Sakura smiled brightly and gently pulled her wrist free. “I’ll be back.” 

Ino stared after her in horror as Sakura practically jogged toward Sasori, her pink hair bouncing behind her like she was meeting an old friend instead of walking toward the school’s most infamous delinquent. 

Sasori stepped aside to let her through, then glanced at the class with a faintly annoyed expression. “What are you all staring at?” 

Nobody answered. He turned and walked away with Sakura following happily behind him.

They stopped beneath the cherry blossom tree behind the school, where the noise of the campus faded into the distance. 

Sakura looked up at him expectantly, hands clasped behind her back. “What did you want?” 

Sasori stood silently for a moment, staring at her. She looked healthy again. Bright again. The same pink-haired girl he’d first encountered running blindly through the school. 

Except now he knew what she looked like crying beside her bed—when he lay there injured. He knew how stubborn she was. He knew she’d lied to the police for him, carried him home, cleaned his wounds, cooked for him, and stayed beside him despite everything he’d said. 

His fingers shifted slightly inside his pockets. “You meant what you said?” 

Sakura blinked. “About what?” 

“At your house.” His voice was quieter than usual. “You said you care about me.” 

Sakura’s expression softened immediately, a soft smile appeared on her gently face. “Of course I did.” 

Sasori looked away briefly, jaw tightening. “Even after everything you’ve heard?” 

Sakura frowned. “About your reputation?” 

He nodded. 

Sakura shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

His eyes returned to hers. “You don’t?” 

“No.” She smiled. “You’re rude. You’re difficult. You’re a delinquent. You’re kind of scary.” 

Sasori’s eyebrow lifted. “Kind of?” 

Sakura laughed softly. “Okay fine. Very scary sometimes.” She stepped closer. “But you’re still you.” Something in his expression shifted.

Sasori exhaled slowly. “Then…” He paused, clearly uncomfortable with the words he was about to say. Sakura watched him carefully, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “I’m willing to give you...a chance. And are you willing to give me a chance?” 

Sakura’s eyes widened. “A chance?” 

He nodded once. “You wanted to get to know me.” His gaze held hers. “So get to know me.” Sasori stopped for a second. 

Sakura’s lips parted. 

“And then we’ll decide whether this…” He gestured vaguely between them, clearly irritated by the entire concept of discussing feelings aloud. “…can work.” 

For approximately two seconds Sakura remained completely still. Then her eyes filled with tears. 

Sasori’s expression immediately tightened. “Don’t.” 

Too late. A sob escaped her. Then another. 

Within seconds, Sakura was crying so hard that she couldn’t even speak properly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand while tears and completely undignified little sniffles ran down her face. 

Sasori stared at her in growing disgust. “You’re crying like a child.” Sakura tried to answer and only produced another wet sob. His nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting.” 

She sniffled. “I-I can’t help it!” 

Sasori sighed heavily, looking like he was regretting every decision he’d made that morning. 

But when Sakura covered her face and cried harder, he stepped closer instead of walking away. He awkwardly caught her by the shoulders and pulled her against him, the movement so stiff and unnatural that it barely qualified as a hug. 

“There.” His hand hovered awkwardly against her back. “Stop crying.”

Sakura stared at his chest for half a second.

Then she exploded.

She wrapped both arms around him and hugged him with such overwhelming force that Sasori actually staggered backward beneath the impact. 

She cried, burying her face against him. Her arms tightened around his waist. “You’re giving me a chance!” 

Sasori grunted, trying to maintain his balance. “You’re crushing me.” 

Sakura squeezed harder. “I don’t care!” 

“I noticed.” 

Her laughter broke through the tears, bright and breathless, and she hugged him even tighter beneath the falling cherry blossoms. 

Sasori’s arms remained around her, still awkward, still uncertain, but he didn’t push her away. He looked down at the pink-haired girl clinging to him as though she’d just been handed the world, and something warm settled quietly in his chest.

His mouth curved. Just slightly. A small, reluctant smile. But it was there.

For once, Sasori didn’t mind being found by his pink-haired junior.

SoThe next six months passed much faster than Sakura expected and much slower than Sasori would ever admit. 

Their relationship did not magically turn Sasori into a sweet, harmless boyfriend who suddenly smiled at everyone and started carrying flowers in his school bag; if anything, Sakura would have been deeply disappointed if that happened. He was still blunt, still frighteningly good at insulting people, still capable of making an entire room go silent with one look, and still had absolutely no patience for idiots. 

The difference was that he stopped picking fights simply because someone annoyed him. If somebody provoked him, Sasori would now look them over with those half-lidded eyes, deliver one devastatingly accurate sentence about their personality, and walk away, leaving the other person too stunned to realize they’d just been verbally dismembered. 

“You’re becoming civilized,” Deidara complained one afternoon, watching Sasori dismiss some idiot who had tried to start something with him. 

Sasori slipped his hands into his pockets and continued walking. “No. I’m becoming selective.” 

Deidara stared after him. “That’s somehow worse.” 

Sakura, walking between them with her hands clasped behind her back, giggled. “I think it’s progress.” 

Sasori glanced sideways at her. “You’re the one who made me promise not to get arrested.” 

Sakura’s smile widened. “See? Progress.” 

Deidara pointed accusingly at the two of them. “You realize you’ve domesticated him, right?” 

Sakura gasped. “I did not domesticate anyone!” 

Sasori’s mouth twitched. “She’s still trying.” 

“Hey!”

But the most significant changes happened when nobody else was watching. Sasori began talking. 

At first it was little things, fragments of memories offered without explanation while they sat together after school or walked home beneath the trees. 

Then came longer conversations. He told Sakura about his parents, about the silence that had followed their deaths, about the years he’d spent convincing himself that needing anyone was weakness. He told her about the things he wanted to create, the art he wanted to pursue, and the strange fear that sometimes followed him whenever he thought about the future: the fear that he would become someone who could create beautiful things but have nobody left to share them with. 

Sakura never interrupted when he spoke. Sometimes she simply sat beside him, her shoulder touching his, listening until he ran out of words. Other times she reached for his hand and squeezed it without saying anything at all. 

And Sakura gave him the same honesty in return, although Sasori soon discovered that listening to Sakura was considerably more demanding than listening to himself. 

She told him about her childhood, her mother, her embarrassing habits, her dreams, her fears, every argument she’d ever had with Ino, every ridiculous thing Naruto had done, every book she had read, every food she hated, every food she loved, and occasionally details that even Sasori suspected were not necessary for human survival. 

Once, after she had spent nearly forty minutes explaining a complicated story about a childhood neighbor he’d never met, Sasori simply stared at her with his chin resting against one hand “Are you finished?” 

Sakura blinked. “Almost.” 

His eyebrow twitched. “How long is almost?” 

She smiled sheepishly. “Maybe another twenty minutes.” 

Sasori closed his eyes. “Of course.” 

Yet when Sakura eventually stopped and asked, “Were you listening?” he repeated the entire story back to her, including the name of the neighbor’s dog and the color of the bicycle involved. 

Sakura stared at him, stunned. “…You remembered all of that?” 

Sasori looked mildly offended. “You talk too much. It’s difficult not to remember.” 

Her face softened. “You really listen to me.” 

He looked away. “Unfortunately.” 

Sakura laughed and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re so sweet.” 

“Don’t ruin it.”

Somewhere during those months, Sakura also discovered that the beautiful delinquent she’d fallen for at first sight was, to her enormous delight and occasional irritation, ridiculously intelligent. 

Sasori absorbed information quickly, noticed details other people missed, and had an almost frightening ability to understand things after only a few explanations. 

Sakura once spent an entire evening struggling with an assignment before reluctantly asking him for help, only for him to glance at the problem, solve it in under a minute, and push the notebook back toward her. She stared at the answer. Then at him. Then back at the answer. “You’re a genius.” 

Sasori picked up his book again. “No.” 

“You are!” 

“I’m competent.“

“That’s a fancy way of saying genius.” 

“It’s not.” 

Sakura leaned closer, examining his face suspiciously. “So you’re beautiful, talented, artistic, intelligent, and a delinquent?” 

Sasori turned a page. “You’ve been aware of the last part for months.” 

Sakura put both hands against her cheeks. “This is unfair.” 

He glanced at her. “What is?” 

“I thought I had already reached the maximum level of my crush.” 

Sasori stared. “That’s not a thing.” 

“It is now.”

Eventually, Sasori did something Sakura had quietly hoped for but never dared ask him to do. He contacted his grandmother. It had been years since he’d spoken to Chiyo properly, and the first conversation was awkward enough that Sakura had wisely stayed several steps away and pretended to be fascinated by a flower. 

Sasori didn’t need her to speak for him. He made the call himself. He listened more than he spoke, occasionally rubbing his thumb against his palm whenever the conversation became difficult. When it ended, he sat quietly for a while. 

Sakura approached only after giving him enough time. “How did it go?” 

Sasori looked at her. “She wants to meet you.” 

Sakura’s eyes widened. “Me?” 

“Apparently.” 

Her expression immediately transformed. “Your grandmother wants to meet me!” 

Sasori sighed as she grabbed his hands. “Don’t make this a big deal.” 

“It is a big deal!” 

And it became an even bigger deal when Sakura discovered that Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari were also part of Sasori’s family. She stared at the four of them standing together for several seconds, then pointed at Temari, then Kankuro, then Gaara, and finally Sasori. “You’re cousins?” 

Temari nodded. 

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “All of you?” 

Kankuro shrugged. “Unfortunately.” 

Gaara said nothing. 

Sasori looked bored. 

Sakura turned slowly toward him. “You never told me.” 

He took a sip of tea. “You never asked.” 

Sakura slapped both hands against the table. “I ask you everything!” 

Temari laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

A year after their first meeting, Sasori graduated alongside Deidara and the other seniors. 

He chose to pursue his passion for art, while Deidara did exactly what everyone expected and followed his own artistic ambitions with considerably more noise. 

Sakura was proud enough to burst and miserable enough to drown the entire graduation ceremony in tears. She had promised herself she would remain composed. She had failed before Sasori even crossed the stage. 

By the time he approached her afterward, Sakura was already sobbing into her hands. “You said you’d stop crying,” Sasori reminded her, reaching up to wipe a tear from beneath one green eye with his thumb. 

Sakura sniffled. “I lied.” 

“I noticed.” 

She grabbed the front of his shirt. “You have to wait two years before I graduate.” 

“I know.” 

“That’s horrible.” 

“You’ll survive.” 

“I’ll miss you.” 

His expression softened. “I’ll visit.”

 “How often?” 

“Every month.” 

Sakura’s eyes widened through her tears. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, and Sakura immediately started crying harder. 

Sasori pulled back and frowned at her wet face. “You’re crying while I’m kissing you?” 

“I’m happy!” she sobbed. 

“That’s still disgusting.” 

She punched his shoulder weakly. “Shut up.” 

He caught her hand before she could pull away and kissed her knuckles instead. “I’ll see you next month.”

Mebuki Haruno had initially been suspicious about the frequency of Sakura’s visits to Suna. 

Then she met Sasori properly. She saw the way he listened to Sakura, the way he remembered the smallest details about her, the way he never mocked her dreams, and the way Sakura became calmer simply by sitting beside him. Her reservations gradually melted into something much warmer. 

Before long, Mebuki was the one helping Sakura plan her trips, packing food for the journey and reminding her not to forget her passport while Sakura bounced around the house in excitement. “You like him,” Sakura accused one morning. 

Mebuki looked up from folding clothes. “I never said I didn’t.” 

Sakura’s mouth fell open. “You actually like him!” 

Her mother smiled. “He’s a good boy.” 

Sakura stared at her. “Mom, he used to be a delinquent.” 

“He still has a terrible attitude.” 

“Exactly!” 

“But he loves you.” Sakura’s expression softened. Mebuki reached over and fixed a strand of pink hair behind her daughter’s ear. “That’s what matters.”

The years that followed were full of distance, visits, letters, phone calls, arguments over completely ridiculous things, and enough photographs to fill several albums. Sasori built a life around his art. Sakura continued toward her own future. Their relationship changed with them, becoming less like the breathless first love of two teenagers and more like something steady enough to lean on. 

They grew older without growing apart. Sakura remained loud. Sasori remained blunt. She still talked too much. He still pretended to hate it. She still occasionally bought him ridiculous things because they reminded her of him. He still acted as though he didn’t care and then kept every single one. 

And somehow, despite all the years between that first collision and the life they eventually built, the most important thing never changed: Sakura still looked at him sometimes and thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, while Sasori had quietly learned that there was one particular shade of pink he would always search for in a crowd.

Five years after the day she had first gotten lost at school, Sakura stood in front of a mirror wearing a wedding dress. Her long pink hair had been styled elegantly, soft strands framing her face while the rest fell down her back. 

Ino was trying very hard not to cry and failing miserably. Hinata was already crying. Naruto had somehow become louder than both of them. “I’m not crying!” he insisted, wiping his face furiously. 

Ino looked at him. “You’re sobbing.” 

“It’s emotional!” 

Karin, standing nearby with her arms folded, rolled her eyes while discreetly wiping beneath one eye. “Everyone here is pathetic.” 

Sakura laughed through her own tears. She looked at herself in the mirror and suddenly remembered a sixteen-year-old girl standing in the middle of a school corridor, clutching her chest because a beautiful redhead had looked at her for five minutes. 
She remembered the first bento. The stupid bandages. The alley. Carrying him home. The soup. The confession. The cherry blossom tree. His awkward first hug. His first smile. His graduation. Every visit. Every argument. Every quiet night when he’d trusted her enough to tell her something he’d never told anyone else. It all seemed impossibly far away and yet strangely close.

Outside, the ceremony began.

Her friends had built lives of their own. Even the Akatsuki were there. Cheering in a not very polite manners. 

Naruto and Hinata had eventually stopped pretending their feelings were anything but obvious. Ino and Sai had somehow become a surprisingly functional couple. Temari and Shikamaru had finally surrendered to the inevitable. Neji and Tenten had taken their painfully slow path toward each other. Karin, to everyone’s eternal amusement, had somehow ended up with Suigetsu. Sasuke remained single, largely because nobody had yet discovered a person with enough patience to tolerate him. Deidara was still loud. Gaara was still quiet. Kankuro still complained. Chiyo had become so fond of Sakura that she now occasionally referred to her as though she had always belonged in the family. 

And Karin, who had once run away from Sakura because of a misunderstanding about Sasuke, was now standing among the bride’s closest friends, pretending that she wasn’t emotional.

The doors opened.

Sakura looked up.

Sasori stood at the other end of the aisle.

For a moment, everything else disappeared.

He was older now, more composed, his crimson hair still unmistakable, his features still carrying that same almost unfair beauty that had stolen Sakura’s ability to think on their first day. 

But she knew the man standing there now. She knew the boy he’d been, the wounds he’d hidden, the dreams he’d guarded, the fears he’d once been too proud to speak aloud. 

She knew the sharp tongue and the softer heart beneath it. She knew how he took his coffee, what music he disliked, which flowers he secretly preferred, how he became quiet when he was worried, how his fingers moved when he was thinking, and exactly what expression appeared on his face when he was trying not to smile. 

She knew him.

And he knew her.

Every loud, bright, ridiculous part of her.

Sasori walked toward her. When he reached the altar, he lifted one hand and gently took hold of her veil. Sakura’s lips trembled into a smile as he slowly raised it, revealing her face. His eyes softened.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

Sakura laughed quietly through the tears gathering in her eyes. 

“You finally admit it?”

His mouth curved into that familiar, restrained smile.

“I’ve been admitting it for years.”

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

And beneath the flowers, surrounded by the people who had watched them meet, fight, grow, separate, return, and somehow find their way back to each other again, Sakura closed her eyes and smiled into the kiss.

The girl who had once gotten lost while looking for the principal’s office had somehow found the one person she had been searching for all along.

And this time, she knew exactly where she was.