champloo.

"I could have handled myself." Turning on his heel, Yamamoto—non-exhausted with not even a bead of sweat being produced—raised his eye brows, sending a curious glance to the pink-haired 14-year-old, who in turn turned her head to the side in a swift movement, crossing her arms over her chest in a childish manner. The tall boy cocked his head to the side, scratching the back of his head; was she mad at him for saving her?

Sakura, despite being an alert and strong hand-to-hand combat fighter, hadn't been aware that a thug had been behind her—she had been busy dodging and punching at the one in front of her that she didn't realize she was about to have her head chopped off by the large hammer in the other's hands. And through the corners of his eyes, he saw...and that really wasn't playing fair.

So he did what he had to do—run in her direction (even if his shoes would wear out; it was fine, anyway, he had another pair back in his room), bust out the cool katana his dad gave him, and swung like there was no tomorrow when he was close enough. This action had apparently made him crush a sunflower that was nearby when he had to switch the ends of the blade, tearing the petals off—but who in the world would want to fight in a field of flowers?

It had surprised the dirty-playing thug, and he had taken that opportunity to give a good slice from the shoulder to the hip, effectively defeating him. That was the first strike. And the second one—who was also a cheater and had actually punched a girl (which was, in his honest opinion, an abomination; he was raised to treat girls with care because they were fragile yet stubborn, just like his wonderful mom—but she was one of the unfortunate ones who, despite being stubborn and strong-willed, was too fragile, and was taken away unfairly and too early)—was about to deal the finishing blow to his friend, who was still trying to recover from the hard punch she had taken to the stomach, greedily gasping for air.

Now, when he was the pitcher, that was bound to be a strike.

So before he could do anything that would hurt her (because he wouldn't lose someone as stubborn and strong-willed as her; not again), he sprinted from his spot and defeated him with the single slice of his katana. He had crumpled to the floor and was unable to do anything else; guess him and his friend are gonna be benchwarmers for the rest of the inning. And that was how thing ended up the way they were—with him scratching his head and her not talking to him.

But all in all, he knew she wasn't that mad at him—it took him a while, but in the end, he just smiled, a hearty laugh escaping his lips.

"I know," he said, slinging an arm around the pinkette's shoulders as he beamed at her, "But, I'm just a chivalrous samurai."

She shifted in false arrogance under his arm and turned her head away in an attempt to not look at him—he didn't miss the pink on her features, and nearly laughed once more in happiness. His smile grew brighter; same old stubborn Sakura.

Gently grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he slowly turned her head so that she was facing him—the amusement and warmth that emanated from his stomach continued to grow, butterflies fluttering joyfully inside of him at the sight of her cute pout and the blush that laced her pale features. Yep. She was stubborn, alright. His eyes traveled down to the flower petals that were still in his grip, uncrushed by the pressure of his hand against the hilt of his katana.

"I may be no Mugen or Jin," he chirped, softly prying her arms out of their crossed state and placing the yellow petals in her hands with his smile never wavering—a few brief moments passed before she blinked, realization dawning onto her pretty features; she laughed softly afterwards, her hands cupping the petals to her body, before he continued, "And you may be no brown-haired girl traveling around."

"But I'll always protect you no matter what." And that would be his promise. He gave her a goofy grin, patting her shoulder softly.

At that statement, she rolled her eyes comically, a sigh being heard, but he paid no mind and continued smiling. The butterflies began to flutter again when she shook her head, stood on her toes and placed a sweet and chaste kiss on his cheek, looking up at him with her cheeky grin, "You watch too much anime, Yamamoto."

I know. I started another story, D: but these freaking plot bunnies keep jumping in front of me, taunting me and daring me to try and write them. And I did...well, one of them...BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT. But yeah, I'm almost done with Chapter 7 for Sakura, REBORN! so keep on the look-out for that.

Back to the main point, this is what it is. As the summary suggested, this will be a fic solely composed of SakuraMultiple probably-unrelated one-shots with the Katekyo Hitman Reborn characters, and the first one was Yamamoto! :D You can make suggestions to what pairing you wanna see next, C: thanks for reading and your support! (Review? :D Or not, aha, xD)

I do not own Naruto, Katekyo Hitman Reborn, or any other animes that I may have mentioned (ie. Mugen, Jin, Fuu, references to Samurai Champloo)—I simply make fanfiction for them.