There he sits. The blond boy from that day.

Except unlike then, he's not looking bright at all.

Sakura can't see much of Naruto's face from her angle, but the small droplets falling from it onto his lap are well perceived. His head hangs low, and a limp hand is holding onto one of the swing's ropes. The other lie on his lap as the wooden seat moves not an inch within the shade of a tree.

No, all that moves is his head, Sakura knowing full well what the incremental shakes are from; and there's a muted, angry mumble floating through her mind, almost like a quiet shout.

Never has she been this miserable. So utterly alone.

Orphaned, even.

From her spot beside the concrete wall of a market, Sakura looks on, the tint on her cheeks dimming. Her jaw clenches as she recalls how she learned that particular detail about Naruto.

Never before has she felt such an urge to hit someone as the day she'd overheard that Ami girl stating it as if he deserves it. Whatever was clenching in the pinkette hardly registered for more than a moment as fury burned to life under her skin in reaction. Sure, none of Ino's competitors ever had anything nice to say about Naruto – the few times he's ever actually brought up – but that one had pushed it. Far. But it was the cruel, deprecating laugh that followed from Ami and her friends that spiked the rage, and she only got through one step before a grip on her shoulder broke the spell of anger.

If not for Ino's prompt move, expression tensely blank with imploringly wide blues, Sakura is sure she'd have… something. However, mutual detestation for the girl in the two friends' ensuing conversation ended up having to be enough, much to Sakura's then disappointment.

Frowning with sudden worry, though, Sakura's gaze darts behind her, looking down the alley at the market her father is within. He'll be finishing. Probably soon, Sakura figures. However, a few seconds pass of him not leaving the entrance, and the girl nervously bites on her lower lip.

Her eyes go back to Naruto, a doubtful frown marring her face. She clenches a hand around the building's concrete corner. Anxiety mixes with indecision as her mother's stern face flashes across her mind, and she recalls how darker jade eyes almost bore into her own.

She's never seen her mother so serious. Worried, even.

That and the promise she made keep Sakura rooted to her spot.

Deeply Sakura admires her mother. Looks up to her, having joined the academy in hopes of becoming a kunoichi like her. Their clan may not be renowned in any sense for the shinobi it produces – the occupation a rare choice within a predominantly mercantile clan – but few things bring greater joy and internal satisfaction than when Mother graces her with a tender smile of pride, the pinkette ever-studious in her academics.

Two more tears fall from Naruto's face. Sakura's jaw clenches again. Her eyes set behind a few stray locks of pink.

"You must cherish your friends, Sakura. They are precious assets in life," rings her mother's words in the pinkette's mind, the girl remembering them from the day she told her parents of Ino.

Wholeheartedly does Sakura believe in her mother's words. Her friendship with Ino only brightened her days, and she's cherished it ever since. The Yamanaka is also the only person in her life that she can safely talk about her feelings with, the sole other to know of her secret affection. The one person she can unload those feelings to.

As well as the dilemma…

But Naruto could just as easily be a friend, though! What makes him so bad? Why can't she be around him? Why hadn't Mother at least let her explain? What was the big deal?! Maybe he is a bit of a mischief-maker, maybe he is loud, maybe he is… non-too-bright…

He still helped her. Made her laugh when otherwise miserable. Those blushing blues were far from " dangerous", Sakura's recollection of them strengthening her resolve.

'Trouble-maker or not, this is cruel ,' she declares with rising revulsion , sick to her stomach of watching him cry his eyes out. Naruto can very well be a complete idiot for all she cares – not allowing the possible likelihood to get her down – because, 'This – is – NOT RIGHT!'

Inner is clenching an almighty fist within her dark world, the dual-colored limb proceeding to do so audibly. She's taking full advantage of her first breakthrough in a while, steadfast in abandoning all worries with this sad sight of whom will be hers.

She may not have gotten to sock that purple-haired wench in her disgusting face, but this time will be different, ' Shannarō!'

It's time to make another "precious asset!"

Sakura's teeth grind in an effort to stifle her rising tint. Her emeralds sharpen, and she glares at the wall she hides behind. Hides behind while he suffers, and no one does anything.

A coldness seeps along her skin when she next look at him. It takes all the warmth of her body away, enhancing a gentle wind's touch to a mild chill.

Still he is ignored.

The fist over her heart goes to her side as her other does the same.

Still he is ignored.

Taking in a deep, trembling breath, she exhales, the effort marginally calming her nerves.

Still ignored.

Her feet move, and nothing but him and those dropping tears registers clearly.

Ignored.

'PUSH!' demands Inner. Her flat palms shove outward in demonstration, passing through dark nothingness before the massive entity.

Sakura nods her fierce agreement. Her lips raise into a self-assured pout, and that tint is returning to her face; but she keeps going nonetheless, her usual red dress blowing with a gentle wind as she enters the wider ground. The cool touch helps to bring down Sakura's low-key anxiety, her shoulder-length pink hair flowing pleasantly.

She does not see the trio of kids making their way over to the park from the opposite end of the area. Most notably the happily surprised platinum blonde, whom excitedly grabs Chouji by the scruff of his outfit and pulls slightly.

After securing his bag of chips beside himself and managing to not fall mid-walk, his wide eyes look at Ino in utter confusion. Uncomprehending, Chouji tries to follow Ino' s gaze, wondering what the sudden excitement could possibly be about. And he doesn't need to look at Shikamaru to know the cloud-watcher is unamused, probably deadpanning at all of this.

Which Shikamaru very much is, the Nara turning as well to try and follow Ino's focus as they three continue toward the park with their fathers trailing from far behind. His brown half-lidded eyes land on whom he knows to be Ino's friend. One black eyebrow quirks at the confident stride she's got going before he looks toward the Haruno girl's direction of travel.

His eyes land on the back of a familiar orange jacket. The eyebrow juts further up.

To the platinum blonde Shikamaru looks again, taking in her ecstatic grin. Creases of thought form on his forehead.

"Wh–" is as far as Chouji gets.

Ino slaps a hand over the chubby kid's mouth, an excited squeal threatening to escape her as she watches Forehead go. Neither of them needs to know, and the question would have been a waste anyways, as she'll never tell. Honestly, couldn't they just appreciate this wonderful moment that's about to unfold right before their ignorant eyes?

Nevermind questions: 'Get that Uzumaki, Sakura!'

Shikamaru's lips thin and then pull down into a more blank deadpan when she starts to gently shake the Akimichi by his scruff with visibly restrained exhilaration.

Exasperated by this point, he sighs lazily, looking to the soft, simple clouds for help.

The boy looks miserable. It is true. Kizashi does look to where his daughter is going, and he understands.

His daughter is kind. In any other circumstance, he might be proud.

No. He would be proud. He is proud. But just like his wife, Kizashi Haruno also saw the beast that ravaged their village for a time. Saw and felt its unfathomably dark and intense power. Remembers the beast's immensity and how its mere presence shot pure fear into his body, ma king every hair stand on end.

He's always been infinitely thankful for his wife's non-involvement in direct combat with it during Mebuki's participation in the necessary full-evacuation. Though that was after the long, dreadful wait within the Hokage Monument's underground tunnels, clutching his then-infant daughter to himself while the low rumbles of the Kyuubi's attack went through the grounds.

Neither of them will ever chance this.

Sakura's heart nearly jumps out of her chest the moment her father's voice starts. She stops dead in her tracks as her eyes fly frightfully wide open. It takes her an agonizing moment to realize it was her name.

It's rare that she hears her father use a hard tone, but she remembers it clearly from that day, though. That BITTER-sweet day.

Her hands flex overly as she turns toward her father, having not even realized they're no longer fists. She knows what she's afraid of, though, and calms them in a hurry as she meets her father's somewhat narrow eyes. Usually they're open and filled with a least some amount of humor. The stern expression contrasts heavily with his cherry-blossom styled pale pink hair. The mustache extending from his sideburns pulls down as t he frown deepens, and he crosses his arms.

Sakura averts her gaze to the ground from the disappointment in his stern expression.

Her mother's reaction will be a different ordeal, she knows, walking toward her father. She was clear and unwavering about Sakura's avoidance of "that boy." Two words that Mother never used to refer to any other kid, and even if it was never said in anything but Mebuki's then adamantly stern voice, Sakura still wonders why.

Though that came after she promised Mother to stay away from him. After the finish of the conversation. After she made it to her room and let her tears run until dry.

The recollection brings a single salty tear down her cheek. She swallows a sob as she enters the alley.

Ino, though, is close enough to have heard Kizashi's voice and recognize it, low as it had been from the distance. It wiped clean all the happiness she'd been feeling, replacing it with a frown. Chouji and Shikamaru wear similar looks, the former now free and still rather perplexed; however, Ino's displeasure tugs harder on her lips.

She, too, knows of the memory. Had been told in detail a couple weeks following Sakura's admission within the park. She was curious to know why the pinkette isn't doing anything, making a move, when she could clearly see Sakura wants to. And boy did all the reasons come tumbling out in the frustrated, angry, sad, miserable telling that followed...

Kizashi watches as a tear slides down his daughter's cheek. Sees her lowered chin scrunch as her frown trembles. It's more than enough to bring the familiar, yet almost foreign burn of hatred to his heart. Worry's clench on his nerves twists another way, however, as he also despises the look on his daughter as much as that damned fox. It's only worsened by him being the cause.

So it's he, this time, that Sakura makes a promise of avoidance to. Alongside his own to not mention the events to her mother, after which Kizashi wipes the tears from his relieved daughters eyes before they hug.

But the next day, Ino is graced by the telling of another emotionally volatile day, turning them into days as she holds onto her crying friend, trying to calm Sakura with desperate nice words and many hasty pats on the back.

Because she's got a plan. She expected this whole ordeal sooner or later. Though Ino has to admit that her friend doesn't waste time, the thought bringing a sly nature to her reassuring smile as she proposes the idea to her friend.

It isn't the greatest thing, and Sakura is steadfast to make her vast agreement known.

"That sucks , Pig!" yells the pinkette through overbuilt snot. Her tone is sour, a mild whine mixed into her shout.

Sour is better than miserable, though, even if her ears are ringing...