Konoha Press

lillypop414

Sakura Haruno! Noun

(coolness level: higher than the temperature of the sun on a vacation to a Texan desert in the middle of freaking August!

interests: Justin Bieber, shopping, dancing, texting, talking, hanging out, and, above all, being awesome.

threat status: intern.)

1. A beautiful teenage girl, interning at Konoha Press.

2. Weird female that has a tendency to go wacko. Sometimes.

3. For friends and relationships see Yamanaka Ino, Yukabushi TenTen, and Hyuuga Hinata

-SNAP-Photo

Pink hair pulled into a messy bun, butterfly and flower clips holding back loose wisps and bangs. Brilliant smile. Flashing pastel green eyes.

Smiley face painted onto left cheek, right hand up with fore and middle fingers making a peace sign.

Hip pocked out, tongue escaping cherry lips.

Background: Annual Konoha Fall Festival, Ferris wheel

Issue One

_"I think your hotter than a Half-Caf Nonfat Venti Affogato Espresso Cappuccino."_

Dear important people at Konoha Press,

My name is Haruno Sakura and I am applying to be an intern at your wonderful business. I am currently a senior at Konoha High School for the Elite, and I have written several front-page columns for The Leaflet.

Unlike most people, I had no idea that your business was in search of a worthy, intelligent intern such as myself.

…I was actually on Google searching for Justin Bieber tickets selling for half price this weekend.

A tall building with reflecting, sparkling, no doubt squeaky clean mirror-like glass with steely silver support beams bordering each square window stood high above the petite girl with a green, blue, and purple tote bag poised onto her frail shoulder.

She heaved the bag higher, taking another once-over of the building with the proud name of Konoha Pressing Headquarters on the side in big professional letters, the address directly underneath the fancy name.

A wave of apprehension splashed her over. Why would the people who worked here even consider her half way eligible toward all of their expectations? She was eighteen, just barely a graduate of her final year in high school, and here she was. Already having a job with a big name.

She sighed, shaking the thought of her head, for it would undoubtedly lead to more thoughts that would make her feel like she wasn't ready, as if she were under-qualified, and that would send her confidence soaring downward.

So, a girl named Sakura Haruno decided, she was going to push the fancy looking revolving doors with a wide smile planted onto her bright face, she was going to walk with her head up and chest out, but of course not to far out, and she was going to pass everyone's expectations, including her own.

Why?

Because that guy sitting in the lobby with his legs crossed, expensive and sleek black shoe bobbing up and down as he shook it, a Grande sized cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand, the newest issue of the Konoha Press newspaper in the other hand…was steaming hot.

There was no way she would even let herself fail now.

_"Do you want extra cream with that whipping!"_

"Name?" The woman at the front desk asked, leaning heavily to the left, toward the side where she had propped her elbow, hand lazily twirling fiery red hair in between her thin fingers. She chewed on her gum at a slow interval, no more than two chomps for every five seconds, and her vermillion eyes seemed bored and unfocused.

Sakura smiled, proudly informing, "I'm Haruno Sakura, the new intern."

The redhead blew a bubble, the pink candy stretching wide, completely covering her face, yet somehow she kept it from popping all over, getting stuck in her hair. Once the long task was over, she adjusted her thickly rimmed black glasses, seemingly peering over a list that was hidden by the desk.

Minutes later Karin—or as so her nametag deemed—pouted, clapping her hands together in sadness. "Aw, it seems that your name isn't on the list, sweetie pie. Why don't you go down to Aéropastle and find out if they're hiring?"

Sakura's face fell out of her grin, rosy eyebrows locking in a confused furrow while she biting her lightly glossed bottom lip. She dug through her bag and pulled out an acceptance letter, pointing to it almost furiously. "But I got the letter! Why would I even bother driving downtown on a Saturday if the CEO of the company himself requested I come into work as an intern as soon as I possibly could?"

Judging by the blank look currently inhabiting itself on Karin's face, Sakura felt a sudden weight of stupidity cover her. How could she be so naïve to arrive at the building less than twenty-four hours after the mail had landed in her apartment's PO box? She should have known in the world of business that as soon as possible meant, not honestly as soon as possible, more like two to three days later.

However, if that were the case, why did it seem so overpoweringly wrong for her to think that way?

The rosette rubbed her cheek before pulling a loose strand of hair from her bun behind her ear. She breathed deeply, releasing a small sigh. She turned on her heel, about to walk away, but she turned back quickly, tinkering back to the desk, slapping her hands onto the counter.

Not even caring to hide her desperation, she asked, "Are you sure my name isn't on there? I mean, like, one hundred percent sure?"

Karin, of whom had her finger pressed to her ear, most likely in the middle of a phone conversation on her earpiece or something of the sort, sneered at Sakura. She muttered, "May you hold a moment, ma'am…yes, I do assure that you will be the first onto the line when I return…I—I freaking get your problem, okay, but I am not Kami, nor am I your freaking therapist!"

She jammed a manicured finger on the 'END' button located on the earpiece, and stared.

"Can I help you again?" The redhead drawled, wine eyes rolling in the epitome of boredom. To make her point more evident, she popped another bubblegum bubble.

A looming shadow blocked all light behind Sakura, casting darkness over practically all of Ms. Karin's reception area, and a tremor of heat ran up and down Sakura's back when a rumbling, deep voice exited the figure.

"Tell me rule number seven oh six three, Karin." He ordered, voice obviously lacking patience, gallons of threat and irritability poured into his already menacingly cold aura.

The redhead stumbled over her words, giggling, smiling, gulping away nervousness, and then frowning, happiness and fear taking turns flashing through her eyes, though a blush stayed permanent on her thin face. Finally, she decided on sighing, plopping her head on her hand in defeat.

Like a monotone she recited, "Faculty rule number seven hundred and sixty three states that the customer is always right, and if they are in no way correct in their accusation, we must not stop until we find a way to make them correct."

A tall man revealed himself from behind Sakura, a printed-paper folded under his arm and a familiar, yet empty coffee cup in his palm. He wore a no doubt freshly ironed black suit, crisply folded linen white shirt with miniscule details, so small like the complimenting stitching, a dark blue tie looped around his neck, and a shiny pair of leather shoes played on his feet.

Sakura started making these observations from the bottom up, stopping abruptly at the man's face, pale ivory skin and perfect model features, high cheekbones and finely arched eyebrows. Dark, mysterious, aloof yet serious eyes clouded over with something that made you wonder what it was, and ebony bangs barely touched his strong chin.

He flashed those eyes in her direction, looking almost through her, and she blushed, suddenly aware of how high his position at the headquarters had to be if he could afford the Valentino attire along with those shoes, and the fact that she had, in all honesty, checked him out.

And she was still.

"Excuse me," he murmured, dark eyes penetrating, "but Karin has problems helping other females that happen to be more attractive than she is."

For a moment, Sakura wondered if that was an inadvertent compliment, or if her mind was just buzzing on haywire from being so close to sex embodied in a person.

The man continued, leaning into the receptionist's desk, a cocky smirk spreading across his lips.

"Come with me."

a/n: IDK about this…I was just bored and at a lock with my other story (Check it out!) so I started writing this. The life of the story continuing depends, of course, on user response and reviews. Anonymous reviews are officially accepted from me, so good or bad feedback is totally alright for me.

Just be nice. :)

~Lillypop414

Review, loves!