WARNING: Deals with less than comfortable topics.
DISCLAIMER: Only the story belongs solely to me. Everything else belongs to their respectful owners.

0.1: Prelude

"I like
to think that on
the flower you gave me when we
loved..."

We first met when we were four during the Azalea festival. It was mid-April and you were wearing a new yukata while I wore a hand-me-down blue shirt. Our mothers weren't very close but knew each other on sight. Stopping, I was forced to say hello and you the same.

You held a half-eaten rice ball in one hand and we just stared at each other as our mothers made obligatory conversation. You seemed like the soft spoken type, but your small smile told me you weren't really shy. But once you were jostled from behind by a passing couple, you lost hold of the rice ball and let it fall to the ground. Tears stared to well in your eyes as a silent cry seemed to form at the back of your throat. In an impulse, I handed you an azalea that I had hidden in my back pocket. While it didn't stop your tears from falling, you somehow found a way to swallow your sob and thank me in a small, mousy voice.

I only had enough time to give a timid nod before we were both pulled away by our mothers. Turning my head, I could see as you held tightly onto the azalea. All I could think was that you better not drop that too.

We met again a few years later when you were seven and I had just turned eight. It seemed like we were both on school trips to Tokyo Tower. Your class had stopped to eat lunch in the same place that my class did. I didn't recognize you at first, you seemed to have changed in those years: taller and rounder. Your thick little fingers could barely work the chopsticks of your little bento. I ended up sitting across the lawn from you, though I hadn't figured it out yet.

I looked up once, and in a row of girls, you weren't the only one I caught staring at me. But you were directly across and did not avert your gaze when I glared right back at you. There was a softness in your eyes, one that seemed oddly unnerving. It was a contradiction, a soft and strong gaze. But to my relief, you were forced to look away as your teacher called for your class to pack up.

But we were only to see each other again up in the observatory. There were flurries of small elementary school kids crowding the windows, faces pressed firmly against the glass. I had to fight my way to even get a glimpse over the heads of so many other children pushed face first onto the elevated Tokyo skyline. Feeling like the effort to get to the front wasn't worth it, I decided to make my way to the back and just wait for the teacher to gather everyone. Taking a breath of air, I slipped through the last kid and was surprised to find you standing there just against the wall. You seemed rather surprised to see me as well. But neither you nor I decided to turn away first, so we just stayed staring at each others. Eyes meeting, breaths touching, feet unmoving.

"Why do you always stare at me?" I asked.

As if finally realizing that you had indeed been staring at me, you turned your gaze to the floor, your cheeks suddenly getting bright red. With such round cheeks, it wasn't hard to make the analogy that you looked exactly like a tomato.

"S-sorry…" you whispered, bringing your fingers together in an annoying fidget.

After getting a bit bored just watching you toy with your fingers, I took a spot next to you. I sat beside you and without a hint of hesitance, you took a peek up at me before covering your mouth. Back shaking, your round cheeks pushed your eyes into a crescent like shape.

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked, a bit offended.

You waved your free hand.

"No, n-no…" you stuttered between chuckles. "N-no, I just…"

You continued to laugh.

"Just what?"

There was a gulp, as if thinking that swallowing the built up saliva would also take down your laughter. You removed your hands and slid down next to me. We sat next to each other in silence; a stark contrast to the yelling and screaming of our classmates who were flocking themselves around the window. They looked like animals. Although I hardly doubt you would have called their behavior that, you rarely ever thought of others as anything less than or more than what they actually were. But I thought it for the both of us.

"Could you really see all of Tokyo from there?"

After so much silence I was startled by how close your voice was. You were back to staring at me.

"Could you?" You asked again expectantly. "From the window, could you really see everything?"

Your question was strange to me.

"I guess." I shrugged, my head tilted. "Didn't you see it?"

You shook your head.

"Oh, no, not yet," you said. "Oh, but i-it's okay! I can just a-ask my mama to bring me some other t-time."

Even though you smiled at me, I could tell how much you really wanted to be one of the kids who had their noses pressed up against the glass. For whatever reason, you wanted to be one of the kids that had the first class view of all of Tokyo. But you were too polite to push your way through the cluster. It was a pitiful smile. Your eyes weren't in that strange crescent shape. They were welling up with tears instead.

"C'mon…"

I grabbed onto your thick wrist and pulled you up. Despite some inaudible protest, I dragged you to the edge of the flock of kids and started to push my way through. You apologized to every kid every step of the way. Most were about both of our heights, and getting by them was not easy. It took a lot of effort on my part as you were like a brick moving through mud. I wasn't too sure if it was because you most likely weighed a few kilos more than me or you really felt intrusive to others. Either way, I managed to get to the front. Pushing you in front of me, I almost knocked you into another kid just a millimeter away. We both grumbled an "I'm sorry".

Slowly, you raised your right hand up to touch the glass. Then you raised your left. Making sure that it would not give from under your fingertips, you leaned in. And in your reflection, I could see your wide doe eyes disappear into a crescent. You turned your head to face me, a smile so wide and unassuming. How could you have gotten so much joy from just staring out a giant window?

"Sasuke-kun, it's so cool!"

You managed to say those words without a hiccup. Your pure awestruck expression stayed as you turned back to look across the landscape. Peeking over your shoulder, looking over the ocean of streets, cars, buildings, and ant like people flurrying around like a colony of fish, for a moment I really did believe it was cool.

Before you left with your school, and I mine, the crowd slowly dwindled. I grabbed onto your wrist.

"A-ah…" You hesitated. "Y-yes, Sasuke-kun?"

"How do you know my name?" I asked you, not in a threatening or accusatory way, just pure curiosity.

"Huh?" you looked at me quizzically, then took a shifting step back. "I-I recognized y-you from a f-few times that m-my m-mama talks to y-yours at the Azalea Festival e-every year."

I couldn't remember clearly.

"A-and…" you paused to point at the back of my jacket.

I looked back to find that my name was written in bold. My eyes widened and I looked away, trying my hardest to conceal my embarrassment. How uncool. Rubbing my sleeve against my nose, I tried to put on a calm expression, only failing to make it look more like a disappointed frown. You, on the other hand, had a hand up to your lips. Your eyes like crescents once again but I couldn't see your smile.

Unconsciously, I forced your hand down. You looked at me in surprise. I just stared, realizing my actions a second too late. Coughing and releasing your wrist, I went back to rubbing my nose with a sleeve.

"You shouldn't hide your smile," I mumbled into my sleeve.

"W-what did y-you-," you began.

"Uchiha Sasuke!" One of my teachers screamed for me. "Uchiha, the group is leaving."

"Y-you better go," you said. "I-I think I have to, t-too."

"Right." I sniffed and turned on my heels to leave. I heard you say goodbye to me. Then I stopped for a second.

I turned back for a moment, you were already turned to leave.

"Oi!" I called.

You looked back.

"See you around, Tomato-chan."

Your face lit up.

"T-tomato-chan…?" you stuttered, flustered. "M-my n-name isn't-…"

"Hinata-chan!" your teacher called for you.

"C-coming sensei!"

I smirked a little, walking away feeling a little more satisfied with myself. I left thinking, your name really suits you.

We met more times in the next few years. They were always brief moments. The times that we saw each other never lasted more than a few minutes; Most just glimpses for a couple of seconds. I would sometimes see you picking out fruits with your mother at the market. If our schools happened to be passing by each other during a common class trip, we would be sure to at least say hello to each other. I never actively sought after you, nor did you to me. We would exchange pleasantries and if time allowed, we'd talk a little.

We never talked about anything too personal. In our small chats, I learned you had an older brother and younger sister. You liked and knew a lot about flowers. You liked light, pastel colors. You had an allergy to cats but loved them dearly. In fact, you seemed to love anything that lived, including spiders.

You learned that I had an older brother. I really liked rice balls. I hated to study. And somehow, you happened to come across me just as I was startled by a garden snake, which you then learned that I have a severe fear of anything that slithers and goes hiss.

We were able to keep a safe distance from each other, just being friendly acquaintances. You didn't invade my personal life and I didn't invade yours (which we were both perfectly fine with). We knew that our fathers worked under the same firm, but it was a large company and we both could agree that going to department parties were less than anything kids would call "fun". You went out of a sense of daughter's obligation and I just stayed home with my brother while my parents mingled the night away. And the next time we'd take a glance at each other, you never seemed curious as to why I wasn't there. We never assumed or expected anything from each other.

It was very comfortable that way. It was very safe.

But when the walls of one of the local cathedrals were lined with white chrysanthemums, the look in everyone's eyes seemed pitiful and filled with sorrow. Regardless of their personal feelings towards my father, they all seemed to give my mother the same practiced sentence, "I am extremely sorry for your loss."

When my father dropped dead in the middle of the night, no one in my family was sure if it was the heart attack or the fall down the stairs. But even if my parents had been fighting much more frequently than normal, the worry and tears that were streaming down my mother's cheeks seemed to be filled with genuine fear and grief. Even when I looked at her profile from under the black veil, she had her eyes down cast as she half-heartedly thanked the people that approached her in the corner. I didn't know half the people around me, my father had little to no known relatives and my mother's aging parents lived all the way in Hokkaido; flight or train would be bad for the their aging bones. That's what my mother said.

For most of the night, I was able hold myself together. But the more people came, the more I felt like the subject of other's pity. My brother and I had stayed dutifully by my mother's side, our father's ashes and photo on the table beside us. I was about ready to collapse from pure exhaustion when suddenly you appeared in front of me. You, along with your father, stood in front of my family; giving deep bows as your father gave his condolences. Then a bow to my father's photo. When you came up to a straight position, your head was still tilted down, your eyes did not dare meet mine. Shocked, I took a step back. In all of our meetings, I couldn't remember a single time that you had been conscious of your gaze. It was one of your many strange habits, to look too intently at someone. Perhaps you had learned not to stare at others so intently, but I assumed I was not like the others. As you walked away with your father to join the crowd of other nameless faces, I continued to follow you. Staying diligently by your father's side, you seemed to struggle to not be jostled by even this somber crowd.

I felt a small push from behind. Looking back a bit annoyed, my brother gave me a knowing look and waved me off. Even he seemed to sense how the atmosphere was affecting me. With slow steps, I approached you. Your father was speaking in a soft voice to another man, and your head looked to the floor. With a little hesitance, I lightly tapped your wrist. You looked a bit startled and whipped your head in my direction. I threw my head back a bit, signaling you to follow.

You turned back to your father with a bit of worry, but he didn't take much notice. I motioned again. This time, you started to follow.

Out in the night, the chill of Bunkyo pricked at the back of my neck. I stretched out my arms and gave a forced yawn, trying to gather as much oxygen as I could to wake myself up. Letting out a breath and watching the clouds lift into the starless sky, I started to make my way down the hill.

It took me several steps to realize that you weren't following along anymore. Turning back, you were still standing in front of the cathedral gates. You stood and just looked at me from the top of the steps. In the dimness of the night, despite the street lamps, I couldn't see the look on your face.

"Are you not coming?" I asked. "Because I'm going to take a walk whether you come or not. But I'd rather not go out alone."

Without saying anything, you made your way down the steps. Once you found your way beside me, I started walking down the hill again. We walked in synchronicity. Each step we took was just in the right time with each other. We said nothing. At least, not till we got to the bottom of the hill.

Once we reached the bottom, you immediately seemed to feel the need to open your mouth.

"I'm terribly sorry for yo-,"

"If you're going to say anything, can you please not say that?" I cut you off. "I'm tired of hearing those words."

You fell silent and I immediately felt guilty. You probably felt genuinely sorry for me. I'm sure there were a handful of people in that room who did, too. But my frustration and anger were president to any sorrow I felt. It didn't feel real yet that my father was really gone forever. It really hadn't set in yet. And all the people going around telling me they were sorry…

"I'm sorry…" I said softly, trying to gain back control of my feelings. "Let's…"

I hadn't realized that we'd stopped walking. I started again and heard as you quickly tried to catch up.

"Let's talk about something else." I said as confidently as I could. "How have you been? I didn't know you would come."

"A-ah…" you responded softly. "I didn't think I would either."

I didn't know why it hurt to hear that.

"M-my mom i-is pregnant again," you told me. Pausing, unsure if you should be saying such a thing to me at that time. "N-news like th-this isn't g-good for pregnant women. I-I thought I-I would j-just stay home with her."

"Mmn…"

"S-sorry, you p-probably don't w-want to hear this r-right now…"

"No, it's fine." I assured you. "So, your brother and sister are with her now?"

"Y-yes," you seemed to perk a bit. "Neji-nii-san and Hanabi-chan t-told me that I-I should probably ac-company father. O-our fathers… Th-they've known each other a l-long time a-and th-this must b-be h-hard for you, t-too."

"No, I'm fine." I fibbed.

"A-ah." You didn't sound the least bit convinced.

"So your mom is expecting?" I asked after a moment of silence. "Does it seem strange that you'll be thirteen years older than the baby?"

"T-twelve."

"Huh?" I looked back at you. This time, though, I really looked at you for the first time that night. Had I ever seen you in so much black? Black hair, headband, necklace, dress, jacket, shoes… it made your skin so sickly pale. I also noticed just how thin you'd gotten. Your face still had a childish roundness to it, but you no longer looked like you were just a solid block of round. Things I would have never noticed because of your usual baggy jacket I now saw. Like little curves that I knew some girls in my class were beginning to develop. You had them, too.

"T-twelve," you repeated. "M-my mother is e-expecting this f-fall. M-my b-birthday i-is in December. I-I'll s-still be twelve."

Nodding my head slowly, I grunted in response.

"Either way," I shrugged and continued my earlier point, "Don't you think it'll be a little weird? When you're twenty-two and graduating from university, the baby will only be the age we are now?"

"N-not r-really. They're m-my b-baby sibling either way." You responded.

"I guess that's just the youngest kid in me talking," I said under my breath.

I heard you laugh beside me. I turned and found your crescent eyes looking into something ahead, one hand over your mouth. "It's alright. We all have our own opinions."

Then we fell into silence once again. We continued to walk and said nothing. Listening only to the silence of a sleeping Tokyo. And in our silence, I almost forgot about the saddening reality that was only a ten minute walk away. But I tried to push that out of my mind and just focused on the sounds of our footsteps against the pavement. Step by step, I only focused on the pat pat. But slowly you began to fall behind. At first it was only one step, then two. Soon, you'd stopped moving all together.

I stopped to face you. You were hunched under the beam of a street lamp, arms wrapped around themselves. Eyes widening, I realized that you must have been freezing this whole time. The cardigan you wore was probably not enough for the late summer night.

"Should we go back?" I asked you. I wasn't particularly asking for an opinion. It was just out of courtesy.

"N-no," you said. I could finally pick out the chilled tremble in your voice, different from your usual stutter. "W-we c-can k-keep w-walking if y-you w-w-want…"

You attempted to take a step toward me, but instead only stumbled. Losing balance, you were about to fall forward onto the pavement. Quickly I went to catch you just before you did.

"S-sorry!" you half shouted.

"No need to apologize, geez. Can you stand?"

You nodded and made an attempt to stand. Which failed as your knees buckled and you let out a hiss. I caught you with both hands by your waist. It was an awkward position that couldn't have been comfortable for you or me. Readjusting my hold I managed to get one hand under your arm while the other slipped a little lower on your back. It was awkward but you stopped wobbling. Making sure that you were stable, I looked up to see that you were staring right at me again. Doe eyes open. The feeling of your breath tickled the tip of my chin, the clouds of our breaths mingling. Our noses didn't touch, but they very well could have. That was the closest I had ever gotten to you. That was the closest I had gotten to anyone. To be so close that I could feel both of our heartbeats pound against each other. You're face began to glow red. We looked away, mumbling apologies to each other.

Looking down at your feet, one shoe had come off during your tumble. I sighed and bent down to pick it up, careful not to completely abandon you as a support.

"N-no, no… It's alright I-I…" you frantically began to say.

On a closer look, I could see cuts and blisters all around your toes and heel.

"A-ah, these are o-old sh-shoes. I-I… I guess th-they're a l-little t-too small for me."

I sighed again.

"You should wear shoes that fit." I reprimanded. Rubbing a hand to my face, I squatted down in front of you. "C'mon, we should get you back."

"Wh-what?" You stuttered.

"The cathedral should have some bandages for your feet."

"N-no…" you said. "Why a-are you kneeling?"

I looked back at you. Seeing the puzzlement in your eyes, your face was still glowing a small pinkish hue. I smirked and rolled my eyes.

"My mom and brother would kill me if they found out I let you walk back like you are now." I explained. "Especially up that hill."

Your face only grew redder.

"N-no," you stammered, "there r-really i-is no n-need. I-I can w-walk b-back j-just fine."

"Just get on."

"R-really, I'm o-okay…"

"C'mon."

"I'm f-fine."

"Get on."

"R-really-,"

"You're really testing my patience Tomato-chan." I said sternly. "Now get on or I'll just push you into the road so that you'll have no choice but to beg for me to carry you back."

Silently, you obeyed and climbed onto my back. Lifting you up, I didn't realize how light you seemed. You weren't weightless, but you definitely weighed less than I was bracing myself for. Perhaps it was because I was so used to seeing how much rounder you were in the past. You didn't completely put yourself on me, even when we were in that position.

"You know it only makes it harder for me to carry you if you're leaning back like that." I told you, annoyance very evident in my voice.

"S-sorry," you said and reluctantly leaned completely down my back. "Th-this i-is e-embarrassing…"

"It's only as embarrassing as you make it, Tomato-chan." I teased.

"W-why do you a-always c-call me th-that?"

"Call you what?" I asked.

I could feel the heat radiate off your face and onto the back of my neck. I smirked.

"T-tomato-chan? W-why do you a-always c-call me that?"

I shrugged.

"I don't know. Just because you're such a tomato, Tomato-chan."

Your face only grew hotter. We didn't say anything after that. You weren't one for comebacks. The rest of the way, I just carried you back. Silently, we worked our way up the hill. And back into the cathedral, I set you down before we got to the gates. I continued to help you inside, but stayed at a safe distance. There were still people around, but definitely much less than when we left. After asking a nun for some bandages, she led us to a separate room connected to the main one and told us to wait while she went to grab the bandages.

I stayed with you in the room. You sat in the only chair beside a door leading somewhere else, carelessly swinging your feet back and forth, humming a bit to yourself. While one hand gripped onto the chair, the other held onto an azalea that you must have plucked on our – or my – walk back. I laughed a bit. You had this strange positivity to you that, albeit was a little annoying at times, made you seem just so carefree. It was refreshing, your awkwardness in what should be not-so-awkward situations made the awkward silences just that much more comforting. It was a natural state when I was with you. I guess that was how our acquaintance had managed all those years, with just sheer serendipitous awkwardness.

"How do they feel?" I asked.

"N-not t-too bad." You smiled at me, eyes crescent. "If I'm not standing on them I feel just fine."

I nodded and you continued to smile. Swinging your feet back and forth you started to hum again. But it wasn't long before you stopped. Your expression twisted a little, you tilted your head to stare at the door beside you.

"What is it?"

You didn't answer, only continued to stare. Slowly, you turned yourself in the chair and leaned forward. Carefully, you cracked the door open just slightly. I came up behind you and peeked as well.

I saw my mother standing there. She had her veil off but wasn't looking in our direction. She stood, looking no longer sad, but frustrated. Before I could ask what was going on. Your father's frame came into view.

"Mikoto," your father said.

I was struck by how he was able to say my mother's name so freely without honorifics. I had never heard anyone but my father and grandparents do that.

"Hiashi, I don't want to discuss this." My mother said, exasperated. "Not today, please, not today."

"You haven't heard me say anything." Your father said coolly.

"Do I need to?"

"I'm just making an offer of help. I can help lessen the financial burden, for Sasuke and Itachi's schooling." He paused. "I don't expect anything in return."

"Oh, Hiashi." My mother sighed, frustrated. "I'm telling you I don't need any help. And isn't your wife pregnant with your fourth child?"

"This has nothing to do with my wife." Your father sounded stern. He almost sounded defensive.

"I'm just saying that you should focus on your own finances before offering help to others. Hinako isn't as young as she used to be and having a child at that age isn't cost efficient." My mother had this edge in her voice that I hadn't known she could muster. It was scarily foreign. "Trust me, I know."

"Whatever my wife needs I can provide it. I'm just worried about you." Every word that came from your father's mouth seemed to seep with annoyance.

"What is there to worry about? I can cope just fine. Itachi can help out with money, he's old enough to work. Plus, Itachi is almost at a university level, he can easily gain a merit scholarship."

"I'm just giving you an option, a safety net. Futaku would have-…"

"But this isn't about Futaku is it?" My mother cut in. "Hell, this isn't even about me. You aren't doing this out of good will, you're doing it for your own self-satisfaction!"

"Mikoto."

"To sedate your own guilt."

The tone my mother used was unknown to me. It wasn't gentle or understanding as it usually was. It sounded harsher, rougher.

"I'm doing it for the good of your sons."

"You say my sons, but you really only mean one don't you?" My mother nearly yelled.

"Lower your tone." Your father countered harshly.

There was a pause, I assumed my mother was trying to collect herself.

"Hiashi…" my mother said slowly. "Whatever sense of responsibility you feel, get over it. It's been nearly fourteen years. Neither of us were thinking right and you can't remember half of what went on."

"Mikoto…" your father tried to come in smoothly.

"I don't want to hear it Hiashi!"

I felt a tug on my sleeve. You were staring at me, wide eyed and fear evident.

"S-sasuki-kun…" you whispered. "What a-are they f-fighting about?"

"I don't know. I-,"

There was a bang as something went toppling down. Capturing both of our attention once again, it was a wonder no one had yet heard or suspected anything.

"That boy is just as much your son as he is mine!" Your father said in a raised voice. "Thank Kami that he inherited most of your genes and looks so much like you that no one would know that I'm the father. I may not have raised him, nor did I know of his conception until the day of his birth, but none the less my blood still runs through his veins. I have a strong sense of responsibility to fulfill to him and just quietly sitting back doesn't help it."

The more he talked, and the more they argued, the more confused I became. I could feel your grip on my shirt tighten till your hands shook. Unknowingly, I had my hand just over yours. For whatever reason, be it to comfort you or to comfort myself, I didn't know. But I held onto it tight. Looking at you, I could see the tears started to well. Had you ever seen your father so angry before? Had he ever been this terrifying to you before?

I continued to stare, and tried to give you some kind of comforting look. You were always ugly when you cried and this time was no different. But I couldn't figure out how. The shouting was too distracting. And as your years began to fall, all I could do was wipe each one away; missing a few in pursuit of others. I always hated seeing you cry, though I hadn't seen it in a long time. But this time, I seemed to hate it more than usual. I just wanted to go in there and tell them to stop fighting, to stop shouting. To stop because it was scaring you.

"You have no right!"

Stop it!

"Stop being so goddamn prideful!"

Stop it!

"This has nothing to do with my pride!"

Stop it!

"Then what?"

Stop it!

"Then what?"

Stop it!

They stopped, only for a second. Your tears continued to fall.

"Sasuke might be your son…"

I stopped.

"…but he is not your obligation…"

You dropped the azalea.

"…I'm taking us back to Hokkaido. I'll stay with my parents. Finance won't be a problem."

You immediately let go of my shirt and I took a few steps back. Like a sudden rain, the feeling of loss fell onto my shoulders. I couldn't move or turn away. Your eyes were wide like a petrified doll, mouth hung open. The nun came in at that time, and you quietly shut the door. In an unknown silence, you allowed the nun the bandage your feet. Eyes looking anywhere but at me. I trembled, and I shook. Hearing the information that I did, I didn't know what to think anymore. And with how things were, I was sure that was the last time I would ever meet you.

"...the far-
departed mouth sweetly-saluted
lingers."

~ E. E. Cummings

. . .

I hope you enjoyed the prelude. Please support and review! Every one is appreciated!