Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine.

Warning: There is a big age gap but no romantic relationship between those involved. Just Tobirama being an awkward papa figure and Sakura being an adorable daughter figure.

"As I've said, I will leave her here…"

Tobirama tuned out his sister's words, his groggy mind hardly registering what she was saying. What time was it? Last he checked it was around four in the morning. He was reading the kifu of Nara Shikaku's latest match and then he remembered no more.

His bleary red eyes – he fought hard to open them – glazed over the two forms in front of him. He could recognize Tsunade's shiny blonde hair and that's definitely her voice booming in his ears. What was she saying again? Took care of sakura or something. There was a blur of pink standing next to her. Why would she want him to take care of her cherry blossom tree? But Tsunade was always weird like that.

The last thing he heard before his eyes finally gave up and he slumped in his couch for a much-needed sleep was Tsunade's hasty goodbye and the quiet click of the door.

.

.

.

Hours later when he woke up – his brain finally functioned again – he dragged his feet towards the fridge, intending to eat quickly so he could continue his practice. That's when he stepped upon something. Something soft, pink, and breathing.

He spent a moment to acknowledge a child, with pink hair, sleeping in a fetus position on his carpet.

Then, "Tsunade!"

.

.

.

Tobirama tapped his fingers impatiently on the shogi board, his other hand holding tight onto his phone. At the thirteenth ring, Tsunade decided to stop ignoring him.

"Tch, what do you want?" Her voice was irritated, like he was the one who dropped a child at her feet without proper explanation.

He had to inhale and exhale a few times before he said, "Don't 'tch' me, Tsunade." He glanced at the little girl sleeping on his couch. "Who is that child and why is she here?"

"I thought I explained the situation thoroughly to you," his sister drawled.

Tobirama pinched his nose bridge, "You mean you took advantage of my exhaustion state and dumped a child at my door while you went on your merry way."

"You make it sound so horrible," the blonde snorted. "Look, I don't see what the big deal is. I have a conference coming up and I need you to take care of her this summer. It's just one month."

"I have matches!" he hissed.

"Yeah, which last for several hours at most then you would spend your time brooding in that haunted apartment of yours." She scoffed and he could almost see her wave him off on the other line.

"How do I look after a child anyway?"

"If you can handle Hashi-nii and me then you can take on the world," Tsunade bluntly said. "Besides, Sakura is a good kid."

Without another word, his younger sister hanged up on him, leaving him to stare at the pink bundle for hours to come.

.

.

.

At least she was right about the girl being a good kid.

Tobirama eyed the girl – pink hair, green eyes, definitely a cherry blossom tree incarnation – while eating his takeout food. She was sitting opposite of him, sipping the remaining soup in her udon bowl. Ever since she woke up, she had been reading books from her mini suitcase and waiting patiently until food was delivered. The girl didn't seem to have anything to babble on like kids her age.

It made sense, he thought, for an eight-year-old girl whose parents just died in an accident to lose all enthusiasm for the world.

That's the only reason Tobirama reluctantly agreed to this arrangement in his second call to Tsunade. He would have snorted – because he could hardly imagine someone as irresponsible as his sister to become a child's legal guardian, least of all the child of her close senpai at university – if it's not too improper. He was cold, but not heartless.

The notion of being alone in this world was something even his black heart could feel sorry for.

He didn't exchange a single word with the girl in their entire meal. They ate dinner in complete silence, like two quiet ghosts in a too quiet house.

.

.

.

If there wasn't a second set of toothbrush and towel and the likes, Tobirama would have thought he was still living alone.

Granted, he didn't pay much attention to the girl aside from calling her to eat whatever he ordered. Even that was rare in existence for she more often than not knew when the food was ready and came to the kitchen without prompting. The girl was mature for her age, he supposed, she didn't need guidance on her daily life.

That suited him just fine.

He didn't have time for playing nanny. His matches to defend the Ryuuou title were next week and Nara Shikaku was one cunning man. Mistakes weren't allowed in normal matches, let alone ones against the man who used to hold all eight titles until Tobirama came along.

He buried himself in kifu and countless matches against imaginary opponents. Day after day, his apartment was filled with the harsh clacking of shogi pieces moving on an abused wooden board and soft rustling of paper from a girl that almost didn't exist.

.

.

.

"I expected better from you."

Tobirama gripped the phone. The gap between the other person and him was not measured by a physical distance but by fifteen years of sporadic meetings, clipped words, and the constant tension that lasted far longer than those years.

Senju Butsuma's voice was that of a stranger but his condescending tone was family.

"This is already the fourth time you lose against Nara Shikaku. You could never hold onto your precious titles for too long."

There was someone calling for him and he barked back an order. Then he continued.

"You chose a different path from our family but that didn't excuse your failure."

There was a brief pause, like he was considering how to keep the wound bleeding raw.

"No child of mine can be a loser."

The line went dead without so much of a reply from Tobirama. Senju Butsuma was never one for something as trivial as people's opinion; his words were final. His children had learnt to live with it.

Tobirama slumped on his couch, the back of his right hand covering his eyes. The decisive match lasted for three gruesome hours and he lost after a move that his opponent later told him it was not bold enough. A move that he spent months to develop wasn't enough and it cost him the Ryuuou title.

It should have stung but it didn't. The dull ache was all too familiar. Tobirama didn't think either, because his head hurt, everything was spinning before his eyes, he was going to–

"To-Tobirama-san."

His name was said so softly, like a ghost's whisper. He looked down to see the girl he had almost forgotten standing between his legs. She was looking at her feet, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt. He tried to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes and was about to ask if she was hungry when she looked up.

This was the first time Tobirama saw her eyes from a close proximity and they startled him. Those green depths reflected nervousness but also nearly tangible warmth. She rose to her toes, her chubby hand reaching out to his head. As soft as a petal landing, the small hand patted his head in a gentle rhythm.

And, with a voice so tender that he hadn't heard since his mother's death, she murmured, "Pain, pain, go away."

This girl – who wasn't even half his height, who just suffered a great loss, who was ignored by him – was offering him comfort in the most childish but heartfelt way possible.

This girl – who made him want to hug her tight and cry like a child – was Haruno Sakura.

.

.

.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Tobirama sleepily opened his eyes to the sound of the wind chime hanging on the balustrade of his balcony. It's the only decoration in his barren apartment, one that Tsunade gave him in an attempt to make this place look less dead.

He was lying on the floor – half inside the living room, half outside, with his long legs touching the railing. He knew he should get up now and start his daily practice. But the warm summer breeze was a distraction and so was the weight on his abdomen.

Curled up like a big pink kitten, Sakura was snoring softly with her head settling on his stomach. They were blanketed in golden sunlight and there was the faint sound of crickets echoing from a distance.

Tobirama closed his eyes.

.

.

.

Things didn't change much after that day.

He was back on his feet, practicing like mad. Less mad than before though, he supposed. He felt like as an adult he should make a fine example for Sakura. At least when she was looking. He tried to sleep at nine (and woke up at uncanny hours to make up for sleeping too early); he used his non-existent culinary skill to make something edible for both of them; he looked at her summer homework once she's done with it.

Summer passed by too quickly for him to notice.

.

.

.

"So," Tsunade drawled, "I trust that Sakura didn't give you a hard time."

Tobirama refused to answer with how smug his sister's grin was. He ignored her – her grin got wider until it was half her face – and turned his attention to the little girl holding onto Tsunade's leg.

He lightly coughed into his hand and didn't look at Sakura when he said, "Sakura, it's been a pleasure knowing you."

Tobirama practically kicked them out of his apartment because as Tsunade's laugh increased its level so did the redness on his face. Before the door completely closed, though, from the corner of his eyes he could see the brightened face – albeit a little dazed – of Sakura.

It – almost, he argued – made his mortification at the evil blonde's hands worth it.

.

.

.

The days passed quietly.

He returned to his daily like the past one month hadn't existed.

Except it did.

It existed in going to sleep one or two hours earlier than usual; in the homemade meals he made thrice a week – onigiri and miso but that's a development; in the slightly longer break he took between practice matches.

In time of idling when, sometimes, he wondered how she had been.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time to step out of this too quiet house.

.

.

.

It took all of his dignity to press on that accursed bell of Tsunade's house.

It took all of his dignity to endure the amused look on her face as she looked up and down at him, eyes deliberately stopping at the bag full of sweets in his hand.

It took all of his dignity to wait for Sakura to come back from school while ignoring Tsunade's snicker.

He had already been half dead by embarrassment by the time Sakura stepped into the living room.

Sakura's eyes sparkled with excitement when she saw him and she, shyly but firmly, used her tiny hands to hug his legs. She even drooled a little at the sight of his bag.

Perhaps, in the end, his dignity wasn't wasted on this bold move.

.

.

.

Since his visit, Sakura often went to his aparment.

She usually came on weekends and thanked all the gods above that she was independent enough she didn't need Tsunade to escort her.

(Years later, Tsunade told him – in a condescending tone – that Sakura begged her not to go because Tsunade would laugh in his face and that would make Tobirama-san sad.)

It had been months since her stay at his apartment and Sakura had changed.

She was still timid but was trying to be more initiative. She started to talk about herself; what she liked, how her school was, whom she had met. While talking, there was a soft radiance around her.

Tobirama spotted a big red bow that always adorned her hair.

Sakura brushed profusely but her eyes shone when she mumbled it was a gift from Ino-chan.

"Ino-chan" appeared a lot in her talks. The coolest. The prettiest. The best. And apparently, this "Ino-chan" was largely responsible for her change. Sakura talked about "Ino-chan" like that was her favorite person in the whole world.

Hm, not a development he was too thrilled about.

Seeing Sakura smiled more and more each day, though, maybe this "Ino-chan" wasn't too bad after all.

.

.

.

"Tobirama-san, why do you always play shogi alone?"

Sakura suddenly asked him while they're on their way back from the supermarket, with her tiny hand in his large one. Today she would try to make omurice for both of them.

Tobirama pondered on her question. He hardly went to the Shogi Association or any practice group. Socializing, no matter the purpose, had never been easy for him.

"I'm…not good with people," he slowly replied.

Sakura looked down a little bit when she said, "Me too."

Then her tiny hand tightened as she looked at him in the eyes, "But let's try our best."

Tobirama didn't say anything for a while. They kept walking until he held her hand a little tighter and said, "Yeah, let's."

.

.

.

"Now isn't this a surprise?" Shikaku drawled, "I thought you were above practice groups."

Nara Shikaku was as annoying as his shogi play, but Tobirama wouldn't let himself be affected by his taunt. He decidedly moved a piece and calmly asked, "Will you have a practice match with me?"

Shikaku looked at his face with interest, his eyes then glinted when he looked down at the shogi board. The man's mouth curved up, his hand moving a piece, "Now this is what I call bold."

Needless to say, the match was a bloodbath between them.

.

.

.

His life was hectic.

Gone was the peaceful days he spent in his apartment. Words got out that Tobirama the Hermit (he only knew now that those bastards in the Shogi Association gave him such a nickname) had come down from his holy mountain and willingly had practice matches with others. More and more players started to challenge him to a match, some even daring enough to invite themselves to his apartment unannounced and organize a mini tournament there.

He wished they were still afraid of him.

"But don't you look satisfied now?" Sarutobi-sensei – his first shogi teacher – laughed after Tobirama grudgingly complained.

Was he?

Annoyed? Absolutely, those shogi bastards trashed his apartment while they were there. Regret? A little bit, his old serene days were greatly appreciated.

Unhappy?

He didn't think so.

.

.

.

These days, he wanted to take back his words about how "Ino-chan" – or Pig, as Sakura liked to endearingly call her now – wasn't so bad.

That girl was a bad influence on Sakura.

There was no other explanation as to why his little girl had become so brash. She looked with disgust at his empty fridge. She wrinkled her nose at his unwashed clothes. She clicked her tongue when he criticized – not badmouth, he swore – a player.

(She used to be more subtle in her disapproval.)

He was even demoted, from "Tobirama-san" to "Tobi-chan".

He could only sit in seiza position and listen to Sakura chiding him for not taking good care of himself.

Tobirama truly missed the good old days when he still had some respect as an adult.

.

.

.

When Sakura was twelve – first year in junior high, four years since they first met – Tobirama tasted betrayal.

He was in a café – a change of mood – when he was looking through the window and saw her with two boys.

The blond boy was clearly an energetic one, moving his hands up and down constantly. Tobirama recognized this boy; it's the child of one of his cousins. His name was Naruko or Naruto or something like that.

He didn't know the name of the other boy but he knew his family name. Black hair, black eyes – probably a black heart too – and a holier-than-thou attitude; an Uchiha for sure.

To his horror, the brat looked like Izuna the Sly Fox.

(Senju and Uchiha were both powerful families, their children were bound to meet sooner or later in those gatherings of the rich.

Senju kids never liked Uchiha kids and the feeling was mutual.

Tobirama especially disliked Uchiha Izuna; from his slightly slanted eyes to his arrogant smirk and his tendency to declare his older brother, Uchiha Madara, was the best of the best.

"Oh, you mean you hate how an Uchiha resembles you too much, from a nasty personality to a brother complex?" Sakura sagely asked while he was telling her how much of an asshole Uchiha Izuna was.

Tobirama ignored her comment and went on to rant about the sly fox. At the end, Sakura just sighed while patting his head, "Pettiness, pettiness, go away.")

Sakura looked pretty smitten with the Uchiha brat; red face, adorable smile, and he could clearly see hearts forming in her eyes.

Little traitor.

.

.

.

"If you keep sulking like that, your headaches will only get worse, Tobi-chan."

"Really, your brain needs to be healthy for the sake of your shogi."

"There, there," Sakura said patiently like she was soothing a petulant child, "you're still my favorite grumpy guy."

.

.

.

But heartbreak came all too soon.

Not even a full year since the day he saw Sakura and the Uchiha brat being chummy, she came to his apartment with puffy eyes like she had cried her heart out.

She probably did.

The boy had gone to study abroad, leaving Sakura only a goodbye and no promise. Sakura didn't even know what she was crying for; what happened or what could have been between them. All the lingering stares, touch of their fingers, the once-upon-a-time one centimeter apart of their lips, felt like a dream.

But the pain was real, it had always been.

Tobirama was silent as Sakura held his hand to the point it could break while the tears falling down her pale face. He wasn't sure she would want to hear what he was thinking. To his dismay, he could somewhat understand the brat. Probably because they both came from a prestigious family and knew the pressure to succeed.

(Tobirama didn't care now. If he received Butsuma's call after a loss, he would just decline the call and continue with whatever he was doing.

When he did answer though, Butsuma's words didn't cut as deep as before. It's hilarious how he used to lose sleep over those scathing remarks.

He had gone a long way to reach where he was today, but Uchiha Sasuke – he finally knew the brat's name – was still a kid. He had miles to walk.)

And, Tobirama thought, no promise was kindness.

They're young, what was the end of the world today could be a funny memory tomorrow. If there was no promise then there was nothing that would bind Sakura and prevent her from doing what she wanted.

It's not his place to tell her this. There were things you had to realize on your own.

Instead he put his hand on her pink head, patting it as gentle as his hand was capable of, and whispered a spell.

"Pain, pain, go away."

.

.

.

"Tobi-chan, your face was as red as a tomato when you said that."

"Honestly, what were you embarrassed about?"

"But…thank you."

.

.

.

Sakura was Sakura, a force to be reckoned with. She bounced back to her normal self in no time; president of her chemistry club, graduated junior high with flying colors, admitted to a top high school. She was aiming to be the president of her high school's Student Council in her first year.

An ambitious little lady.

And a mischievous one, too. She said that she took advantage of – abused was the more correct word – her role as the female president of her class to double Nara Shikamaru's workload. The only son of one of his mortal enemies – with his personalities, he had too many to count – was the male president of Sakura's class and Pig girl's childhood friend; what a small world.

Sakura told him – with no short amount of pride and childishness – not only did she double his workload, she also bested him at every subject. A revenge for all the times his father dared to win against her Tobi-chan, she said. He didn't know if he should feel grateful or mortified.

He was still busy trying to deny the childish happiness bubbling in his heart.

He met the Nara brat a few times, when his father took him to shogi matches. A lazy bum he was, Tobirama knew the brat was brilliant. Perhaps he could be a greater player than his father in the future. Tobirama doubted Sakura could best the brat that easily if he actually put some effort into his study.

But that didn't take away any of Sakura's excellence.

His little lady was extraordinary and it's time he sped up to catch up with her strides.

.

.

.

"I almost miss the old you." Nara Shikaku sighed at the shogi board. He would have to go through the trouble of regaining his title; what a drag.

"But," he smirked as he looked at the result of their seven-hour long battle, "you're certainly more interesting now. I look forward to our next match."

.

.

.

"Tobi-chan, let's go celebrate! I found a really good seafood restaurant! It's my treat!"

Sakura practically dragged him to the restaurant with her unusual strength. He told himself that he was too tired after his match, not because was as weak as a ragdoll next to this little lady.

Sometimes he did wonder what Butsuma would say about his long winning streak. He probably would never know; the number had long been in his black list and he had no interest in meeting the man. Butsuma had no part in his wins.

Besides, he still had to think of what to eat so that Sakura – who now clearly hadn't an ounce of respect for him – would cry over her empty wallet.

.

.

.

Sadly, Sakura didn't cry at all. She was smiling at the end of the meal and that unnerved Tobirama more than anything. A smiling Sakura was a bad news Sakura, especially after you had offended her in any way. He would have to sleep with his eyes open now.

(Somewhere in the background, Tsunade snorted, "Chicken.")

They were walking back to her house, hand in hand, when she suddenly notified him, "I will apply for Todai's Faculty of Medicine next year."

He smiled, "I see. I'd better think of a present now." He was sure his little lady could achieve anything she put her mind into. "What will you major in?"

Sakura turned her head to look at him. Her grin was wide – half of her face – like she was about to share a big secret. She pointed to her head, "Neuroscience."

"See, I did say you are my favorite grumpy guy."

Sakura said that while her nose was red like a reindeer from the cold and her eyes formed crescent moons.

His heart tightened as did his hand.

As they walked on the moonlit road, he wished that the owner of the small hand he was holding would always find her happiness.

.

.

.

"Tsunade."

"What is it?"

"That summer…why did you leave Sakura in my care?"

"…You and her were both miserable at that time. But you guys have always been better at taking care of others than yourselves. I thought I would make a leap of faith."

"You always like to gamble."

"That I am. So," Tsunade, to his amazement, hesitantly asked, "did I win?"

Tobirama looked at the beautiful lady standing at the end of the aisle. She was crying her heart out again, but this time due to overwhelming happiness. The boy-man – he couldn't call him brat anymore so he settled with that – was hugging her like he would never let go.

Uchiha Sasuke had grown up, all sharp edges and more assured of himself than ever.

Even though Tobirama was terrified to realize that as an adult, he looked like a Madara without wrinkles. It's even worse than the sly fox.

It's only because of how his eyes looked at Sakura – gentle and full of love – that Tobirama didn't falter when he gave her away.

And Sakura was happy, so happy that he thought she had used up all the tears for the rest of her life.

Tobirama was happy, too. More than when he won his first match; more than when he earned his first title; more than when he became the Meijin.

His king – his heart – was captured and he gratefully admitted his defeat.

"Yes, you hit the jackpot."

A/N: Today, February 19th, is Tobirama's birthday. This is a present for him (he got Sakura as a present, lol) and for me to get back into writing.

As always, reviews are very much appreciated :3.