Rated T for language. May increase in the future.

BUTTERFLY

three

"You know her?" Kiba had asked with all kinds of surprise and confusion in his voice.

"That," Shikamaru inputted, "is the school's smartest and richest female. Little Sakura Haruno."

Little Sakura Haruno.

Haruno, Haruno, Haruno...

Sasuke knew that surname and what came with it. Knew just as much as anybody.

That was the heiress?

Not some blossom-haired, jewel-eyed stunner, but a homely girl—soft and meek and small.

That's who Naruto's been babbling on and on about for the past week and a half? What kind of—what sort of person could possibly earn the eye of that blonde dolt? (Considering he owned the attention span of a pea).

And damn it all to hell—even Neji? The guy that was probably just as apathetic as him and Shikamaru?

It'd be a blatant lie if someone said Sasuke wasn't outright curious—annoyed even that the balance that usually comprised of his daily life potentially seemed to be teetering on edge with the entrance of someone with pink hair—just about the only external trait that seemed interesting about her. He might even go as far as to say that had he not known of the last name, she'd seem like any other high-class commoner: family of new money with extra bank.

That's it—that should be it—but it's not.

There's more.

What kind of charm lied there? Did she share the same kind that the Haruno couple commonly held and showed off? Kizashi and his paternal strength and endearment? Mebuki and her maternal power and ironclad heart? Was heiress Haruno as intriguing?

He didn't know.

But undeniably, he wanted to, because if there was anything damn true about Sasuke, it was that anything he craved for was met and fulfilled—even curiosities.

Common public knowledge on the ever-elusive Harunos just wouldn't cut it.

So in lieu of it all, he went to the one who might know (or have access to) practically everything about the entire student body. Just down the hall of the second floor of his home, two doors away, and—

"Itachi."

If anyone would know anything, it'd be him.

The tone of his voice was curt and crisp, albeit distracted, and so the elder Uchiha looked up from his novel, reading glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose.

Dear Itachi peered over at his sibling standing in the doorway of his bedroom, taking in the odd sight of a disgruntled Sasuke in the rectangular entrance.

Oh?

Well this was certainly new.

Since when did his uptight, broody baby brother get like that?

Temperamental, maybe. But not riled up like this.

"Yes?"

He fidgeted just slightly, as if hesitating.

Since when does he fidget? Hesitate?

Itachi leaned up, shutting his book now that his interest's been piqued. Of course, the incoming answer to his question would've never been one he'd guess in a million lifetimes—

"What can you tell me about a 'Sakura Haruno'?"

"Hello—Itachi, yeah?

Yes—yes I'm in the Headmistress' office, I'm trying to hurry—I have the file pulled—whatever, yeah. Alright so uh, 'Sakura Haruno, female, sixteen, born March twenty-eight, blood type O'

...

Uh—no, there isn't—no siblings, parents are Mebuki and Kizashi Haruno—hey wait, like the Haruno Cor— okay god, stop pressurin' me.

Um, I have her class schedule.

Yeah, I'll take a picture.

I don't—there isn't really anything else, yeah, it just says like the basic stuff about her, I guess.

I mean her records are squeaky clean, I don't know what kinda dirt you thought I'd find—and good grades, too, wow, what the fuck—what rank is she, anyways?

Whatever—if this is it, what's the fucking purpose of you sending me to—yeah, yeah.

Okay.

...

Ugh, okay, bye."

Neji stood leaning against the passenger door of his car, hands in both pockets, fiddling with keys and lint. He was the perfect vision of relaxed aloofness, calm and poise—a rather humorous distinction from his inner turmoil.

Though outwardly detached, his keenly observant moonstone eyes surveyed the outpour of students heading home for the day, searching for telltale petals in the sea of colors. And then when he caught himself looking too closely, he'd force his tense spine to relax against the car again.

Who would've thought that the reigning Ice Prince of the East would be so anxious to make a friend?

Oh yeah, his father was probably turning soil in his grave, laughing at the expense of his only son.

Earlier, Neji'd exited his last class of the day (an insanely boring lecture in Personal Financing 101 with Gekko Hayate), hands shoved in his pockets and bookbag tucked between forearm and side. He'd bypassed Shikamaru's offers of heading to the Student Council room and checking to see if Itachi needed assistance in his campaign (which was frankly unnecessary; the guy practically functioned as president already—and since when did Shikamaru want to do more than less?)

Although suspicious, the Hyuuga heir cared little about that odd behavior. There were more pressing matters to tend to.

For one, a hummingbird by the name "Haruno" would surely be surprised to see him waiting at his car. That thought nearly caused a smile to flit across his face.

The Uzumaki had gone home yesterday due to some biology incident (really now—you'd think star running back could handle a little finger prick when he spent most of last season eating dirt from all the tackling), then stayed home today due to Kushina mother-henning the idiotic sap. And what with the routine drives home Neji learned Naruto would give Sakura, he figured it'd be alright to do so in his stead again. Kotetsu was it?—he can have another break.

And the bonus—Haruno wasn't that bad of a person to talk to. Actually, he'd been pleasantly surprised to learn how good of a conversationalist meek, wallflower Haruno could be. Quick, adaptive, but not quite sharp-tongued. Only witty and precise, like a concealed dagger.

You'd think her shy with the modest clothes and visible lack of designer labels; you'd even think her a high scholar with a full-ride if you didn't know scholarships weren't accepted there. But the gold detaile on her real-leather purse, the insignia on the hinges of her glasses, the pristine condition of her heeled shoes—it was undeniable exactly where she sat in the wealth ladder.

Alas—little Haruno was also a rich, spoonfed, silkbred heiress too. Like the rest of them.

And yet.

Yet.

She behaved like anyone else—spoke to him like he was anyone else. Remove the money and the labels that stood between them, strip them down, and they were a boy and a girl and it was so new and inviting.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was what piqued Neji Hyuuga's interest.

A person who could give him the same amount of mental resistance the same way Shikamaru could when he wasn't napping, and Sasuke when he wasn't being an unresponsive fish. Aside from what a camaraderie between them could potentially bring to their respective companies (because who wouldn't turn their heads twice hearing the Hyuuga be the very first company that ever-elusive Haruno decide to ally with?), a friendship would serve grounding and humbling, entertaining and amusing, with just the right amount of sincerity.

Little things like that were exactly what people like them needed to remember to never forget.

Shikamaru Nara leaned against the school's walls, right beside the gates, flicking the ash off his cigarette while licking the flesh of his lower lip. Though the image of detachment, he, too, held narrowed, watchful eyes at the resting Hyuuga across the front lot of the school.

Now why is Neji Hyuuga standing over there?

Because for one, Shikamaru had caught Neji on the way out of Hayate-sensei's class, asking him, "Do you want to head down to the Student Council room? Itachi'd want us to check over his acceptance speech," since the presidential campaign ended next month.

But body language told the Nara his friend wasn't listening. Flickering, distant eyes, tense shoulders, some papers oddly sticking out of his bookbag when neatfreak Hyuuga usually had a knack for order—they were the signs of someone distracted and wanting to get away.

And then the brunette boy went and said, "Busy. I'll see you tomorrow." At the luncheon—right—but Shikamaru's suspicious hum went unnoticed because weird, weird Hyuuga fled down the hallway, twisting and turning his head this way and that, then disappeared around a corner.

Odd.

Odd, indeed.

What was even odder?

That same "busy" Hyuuga standing—pretty relaxed—against his car like there was nary a care in the world. Had Shikamaru gone ahead to the council room on his own, he would've missed this. But no, he'd been quite suspicious, dropped Itachi a call and told him Sasori would help in his stead for today, then headed for the front gates where he knew Sasuke would eventually pull up to give him and Kiba rides home.

Neither were there yet, so Shikamaru sat by, watching the show his fibbing friend decided to put on.

Ah.

So that's why.

His answers—surprisingly yet unsurprisingly enough—came in the form of blush-colored hair.

It appeared at the rightmost corner of his eye, popping between gold gates and walking in a rather compressed form. The long tail of braided pink drifted carelessly in the spring breeze, its owner's head hunched forward and tucked between the pages of a—was that Shakespeare?—a book of Othello. One he was familiar with, since his advanced Literature and Composition teacher, Kakashi-sensei, had assigned it for the unit.

Shikamaru flicked ash again, timed perfectly with the way Neji visibly—and truly—removed tension from his body, focus zeroed in on the wealthy Haruno oblivious to his presence.

As she made to cross the school's front, circular driveway, brushing right past his car, he stepped to the side and called out her name.

The Nara watched, eerily observant of the way "Sakura-san" fell from the aloof Hyuuga's lips like water to a dry mouth.

Odd.

The young woman popped her head up from between pages, glancing off towards Neji in question. Words were exchanged, gestures were made, and Neji seemed to nod towards his vehicle.

When disappointment flashed across the Hyuuga's face, directly following a little bow from Haruno's head, Shikamaru concluded that he was offering yet another ride and she seemed to be rejecting this time. He chuckled softly, lips savoring his cigarette at the well-hidden, humorously dejected expression taking shelter on Neji's visage.

Never knew he'd be capable of making a face like that, he acknowledged bemusedly.

And then a flash of blonde and orange came walking from his left-side peripheral and Shikamaru turned his head, shocked at the random entrance of the newcomer.

For there stood his absentee friend, clad in casual clothes and sporting a little band-aid on his right index, but lacking the usual skip in his step.

No, because for one, he looked to have murder in his every pore.

Naruto?

Since when was he here?

Why was he here?

Why does he seem so mad?

"Naruto—"

He did try to call out, but it fell on deaf ears, and the laidback young man's eyes widened, spying the Uzumaki storming forth from the sidewalk. He crossed the driveway, right between two limos, and headed straight for the pair Shikamaru'd been watching this whole time. Neji caught sight of him first, gaze that was once warm little swaths of cotton turning into liquid mercury at the sight of the blonde.

Then Sakura noticed the silence, turning, going wide-eyed when she spotted her new blonde friend directly behind her.

In an uncharacteristic move—and damn, Shikamaru couldn't fucking see anything with their backs turned to him, could only guesstimate using Neji's expressions—Naruto reached forward and put a rather firm hand on Sakura's shoulder. She seemed to keep her questioning gaze, but Neji looked like he'd been struck across the face.

"What are you doing here?" was the question Shikamaru read off his lips.

"I'm giving Sakura a ride home." Naruto spoke far louder, but the usually enthusiastic, higher pitch in his voice was removed, stripped to his guttural speaking tone. It was the one he used in serious situations, usually saved for confronting his best friend.

"You are not." Neji had gone ahead and raised his volume to match, not one for backing away.

"Yeah?" Naruto scoffed—uncharacteristic of him again. "I don't think so."

"What the hell is your problem?"

"What's yours?" There was a sneer in his words. "Since when did you start talking to Sakura?"

"Yesterday." Neji crossed his arms. "When I drove her home."

Surprise shook Naruto's shoulders and he suddenly let go of Sakura like she burned him, turning his head down to her. "What?"

It didn't take a genius to understand the girl was likely beyond confused. Even Shikamaru, who knew this to be some type of confrontation, couldn't understand the sudden hostility. Have they lost their minds?

That had to be it.

Sighing and putting out his cigarette with a stomp of the heel, Shikamaru pushed off the wall and began his own walk towards the trio garnering questioning glances. Most of the remaining populace rather didn't care—it was Friday and the day before the Hyuuga luncheon and people wanted to get home and prepare. Just a few passing looks were tossed that way, thankfully enough.

"Naruto," Shikamaru greeted, sensing the tension in the air far stronger now that he stood in direct line of it. The blonde didn't move, Neji's stare flickered, and Sakura swiveled her head to look at him. He ignored two in favor of one. "Where were you today? A finger prick couldn't have taken you out for two days."

Ease the attention off her.

Unusually sharp blue turned to look at him and he—for the life of him—pinched his lungs together at the sudden ice there.

Naruto's capable of a look like that?

Seemed Shikamaru was learning all sorts of new things about his friends. And from what?—another glance at Haruno—over a girl?

Since when did girls ever get in between any of their friendships?

Hell, he, himself, had only seen Neji with Sakura just once—just yesterday, after school. Where the hell did he come from acting like this? (Admittedly, he understood Naruto a little bit, he's seen the blonde hang around the girl for a little over a week now anyways, and he's a naturally clingy person).

What happened?

"...My mom made me stay home."

Oh good.

Good, the tension's dissipating.

Naruto's reply came out on a grumble and when Neji scoffed and he glared, it was the normal kind of blue. Shikamaru inwardly sighed in relief.

"Yeah well, kind of wussy for star running back," he mocked, for once glad that that annoyingly high-pitched, indignant squawk sounded so distinctly Naruto. And when Neji joined in on the jabs, calling their friend "pathetic, weak, and moronic," he'd exploded into profanities and big talk about how much "bigger" his "package" was—as it always spiraled down to, grossly enough.

So, to save the poor girl from that damn sausage fest (god knows Shikamaru's been pretty fed up with all the dick talk, no pun intended), the Nara genius craned his neck, discreetly giving her a little nod.

"Go," he'd mouthed.

Because he noticed her chauffeur (stupid Neji, you tried to give her a ride and forgot she's rich and has a driver?) and didn't want her around for when Naruto started talking about the merits of "length" versus "girth."

Really now.

He had some disgusting friends.

Grateful, wealthy little Haruno bowed her head and pivoted on her heel, swiftly crossing the rest of the driveway, over the stone roundabout, and towards her waiting driver. He tipped his hat, opened the door, and waited for her to get in.

And when they were gone, Shikamaru's narrowed, observant eyes went lidded and body slouched, moving thereafter to reach out and bonk Naruto in the back of the head and pull him down by the neck in a lazy chokehold.

All the screams of "Hey, let me go, you bastard!" went unnoticed as Shikamaru glossed over Neji, giving him all sorts of silent questions that uncharacteristic little Hyuuga refused to deign with answers.

What's going on with you?

Saturday at noontime, press coverage on the outskirts of the school gates for the event went into a feeding frenzy reminiscent of shark-week. Paparazzi was slimy like that.

As each limousine pulled up through the circular driveway and photos were snapped of the Hyuuga-luncheon attendees (a beauty show that media fed on like hounds), it was looking to be a good day.

Blue skies, white clouds, sunshine and green trees that made Konoha's namesake—what a sign it all was for the coming of a clan birthed from spring. It was a perfect day to shake the world, so it seemed.

Just as an hour filtered by since the gathering had begun, a sleek white limousine drove up onto the campus property, embellished with a gleaming, silver circlet adorning the front hood—this, a symbol not many had expected to ever see outside of corporate formal events or public parties.

No—every single person before those gates who bore witness, who felt the surprisingly beautiful spring day in their bones—and yet not a soul expected this arrival.

The first to exit the opulent vehicle had been CEO and family head Kizashi Haruno, dressed primly in a perfectly tailored Giorgio Armani suit dusted in colors of deep, deep burgundy and burnished with a black button up and charcoal grey tie.

His head of dusty rose, blossom-styled hair fell in beautiful contrast with sapphire blues and sun-kissed skin. It gave him the fatherly countenance of a man, charismatic and kind, but nonetheless bear-like and brute.

He only surveyed the gates to take in the place, ignored everything else for the moment, then turned back to the open limo.

With a hand in offering, he assisted, and out stepped the Haruno matriarch—gorgeous Mebuki Haruno.

With short, flaxen blonde hair twisted into a low bun and deep, juniper green eyes, the woman looked the epitome of stone grace and blooming beauty. She moved elegantly in her cream-colored jumpsuit, every part the iron-fisted businesswoman she was known to be.

She gave her husband a smile, both sincere and confident, and he flashed a broad, kind one in return. And then back to the limo did he go, only to withdraw the third and final member of their party—a face not thoroughly known to the public.

Such an occasion left too much of the general populace speechless and incomprehensible.

Haruno has stepped out of their seclusion?

Unheard of.

And even more—it was for an informal school function for their daughter, the one less known (if at all possible) than the actual couple themselves. This was the coming of the Haruno. What could it all mean?

With her father's help, out stepped the young heiress.

Pretty sun dress, white flats, braided hair and glasses—she wasn't a, say, stunner, but owned a different sort of appeal. Softer, more delicate—take her out of the school uniform, and the ivory skin that colored her arms and neck and face became so much more prominent, and the blush pinkness of her hair—unique from either of her parents—was a youthful color.

The Haruno family—a true trio of springtime.

Perhaps the Uchiha were Konoha's Will of Fire, and perhaps the Hyuuga was the city's heart-and-soul of traditions. The Uzumaki—an example of the warmth and sunny disposition of such a place—

But the Haruno were the foundation of its namesake—the very seed and bloom of the trees—

They were, in short, a sight to see.

And what a sight it was.

Sakura had been left alone.

Not in a bad way—she'd encouraged the situation actually.

As her and her family walked the manicured, blooming path to Konoha Academy's gardens in the west wing, she quickly caught sight of the Namikaze-Uzumaki family standing close to the rose hedges, talking to a random assortment of parents and students. With an indication and a little smile, she and Mebuki nudged Kizashi on that way and, more than happy to oblige, he gave two kisses each to both women and slipped away.

Her mother found Yoshino thereafter, sitting at a table with Shikamaru face down, napping. With a fiercely gentle hug and a promise to meet when the luncheon announcements would be made, Mebuki deposited her daughter at their designated table and flagged down the Nara matriarch.

Unbothered by either, knowing full well the intention, Sakura resigned herself to a seat, ordering a cup of green tea and a plate of crepes to hold her off long enough before the lunch buffet building opened after announcements.

Licking the cream that gathered on her thumb, she munched on a bite of crepe, years of upbringing and mannerisms tuning her every move to a song of grace. Detachedly, she observed the many students in the garden—some who tossed looks at her in curiosity and surprise, others too absorbed in conversation to care.

Either were fine, for neither directly concerned her.

A chair scraping followed by a short thud met her ears and she glanced rightward in surprise.

Dull brown stared back.

"Shikamaru?"

He regarded her with an appraising look, then jerked his head from where he'd come. One glance that way showed both their mothers in intense conversation.

"Did my mom take your spot?" she asked, smile curving. He snorted, setting his chin down on the folded arm propped onto the table.

"Saved me, actually," he corrected. "My mom was babbling so much, I could hardly fall asleep."

"Narcoleptic or lethargic?" the pinkette pondered aloud. His lip quirked.

"Neither, really. Brain power on overdrive needs as much rest as it can get," he replied, shutting his eyes.

"So that's what it is," she mused. "Thinking too hard."

"Always knew you were a smart one, Haruno." She laughed then, and he entered a half-smile at the sound. He then turned his head into the crook of his elbow, now looking at her with lidded eyes. "So what's this?"

And somehow, she knew exactly what he was talking about, and it was kind of nice to be having such an efficient conversation.

"Experimentation."

Okay, so that was a weird reply.

He raised a brow. She nodded back to the table where their mothers were.

"My parents are looking for potential partners."

Okay, what?

Shikamaru sat up then, unable to hold back on a surprised raise of both brows. "What?"

Sakura understood the shock in his tone and the extremity of his question. The Harunos, while kind, were notorious for being lone wolves on the business playing field. Randomly busting out intentions of partnerships in an informal setting was definitely not something anyone could've predicted—even the Nara.

She twirled her fork in a puff of cream.

"The company's looking into opening up some buildings," she said rather obscurely, although he took no offence in it. "But politics get a little seedy when it mixes with business."

Oh.

Oh.

Then that explained Mebuki and Yoshino together—Nara Advisory was one hell of an entity on its own, and if Kizashi chatting it up pleasantly with Minato was anything to go by, then Shikamaru understood what this meant.

The Harunos were actually finally turning to partnerships.

"This is..."

New? Should he say that?

It was so... so shocking that even he had felt at a loss of words.

But she saved him yet again, reading his mind and laughing softly. A stray lock of pink slipped from that loosened braid of hers and she fisted the entire tail and turned it over her shoulder.

"Crazy?"

Yeah.

Yeah, pretty much.

And she nodded, like she was reading him again. "I know." Then as an afterthought: "I suggested it."

...What?

He must've been looking at her like she'd grown a second head, and when she laughed, he looked away, embarrassed.

"So do you think it'll work?" He glanced back in question. "The partnerships."

"I...don't see why it wouldn't," he replied slowly, crossing eyes between their mothers in deep conversation. "Anyone would be stupid to not take an offer from Haruno." And then he flapped a hand nonchalantly. "You shouldn't worry about Nara. We agree with your morals; my mom's probably screaming on the inside already."

She nibbled on a piece of pastry. "And Namikaze?" Her pressing didn't bother him; giving his prim opinion and observation ran in his blood. It was what made his family's company so powerful.

"Like Nara."

An exhale, and then a small smile, quickly covered by a forkful of cream. "Thanks."

He snorted, then gave what would be considered as a half grin. "Sure."

"Sakura-chan!"

Shikamaru had to fight the groan in his throat, burying back into the sleeve of his arm. Damn- at least the stupid blush would go away now- but did this peace have to get ruined by that stupid-

"Hi Naruto," the pink-haired protagonist greeted, a laugh tailing her words. It was directly followed by a squeal when her body fell away from the chair, now nestled between two warm arms. "H-Hey wait-"

"Idiot, put her down," Shikamaru chastised, turning to look at the blonde buffoon bear-hugging the poor girl. He seemed to realize that the small choking noise was coming from her and quickly let go, red-faced and sheepish.

"Er, sorry about that." And then he quickly beamed at her again. "Your dad was talking to my dad earlier, y'know!"

She humored him with a smile, sitting back down next to Shikamaru at the table. In a pure act of fascination, his spare arm lifted from his thigh, reaching the few inches it took to touch the end of her french cord.

Between fingers did silken pink gain his attention, and he absently listened on as Naruto babbled out a, "My dad thinks Kizashi-san's pretty rad."

"I'm glad it's going well," she replied, honestly grateful. There was an undeniable bubbling deep in her chest; things were honestly looking up. Soon, that small dream of helping people would truly be within grasp.

"My mom was asking about your mom, though," the blonde continued, and it sounded like there was a little frown there.

"She's with mine," Shikamaru inputted from nearby, and it was like Naruto finally realized he was there. The pineapple-headed man nodded in a direction. "Business stuff."

"Oh so..." He shifted. "So we get to be Sakura-chan's first family friends!" Excitedly, he sat in the seat on the other side of the girl with a massive grin. "Isn't that cool?"

"Fabulous," the Nara drawled, and Sakura laughed, nudging his folded arm on the table. He gave a faux glare in return, other hand still busily rubbing pink strands.

"Sarcasm suits you," she noted. He bowed his head in mock thanks.

"It's my first language."

Naruto rolled his eyes. "It's his only language. D'you know all he does is make fun of me? I swear, it's like I'm the running joke of the century."

"You kind of are," the Nara fired back, and Sakura laughed at the blonde's indignant squawk.

Neji wasn't listening to him.

For whatever stupid reason, Neji wasn't listening to him.

When did this happen? How? Why?

Of all his friends, the Hyuuga usually proved most courteous when it came to shared conversation—Shino rarely responded, Shikamaru often had his eyes and ears shut to the world, and Naruto and Kiba combined had the attention span of a walnut.

But here Sasuke was, having asked a singular question that Neji apparently hadn't heard.

He toed one leg of his chair, asking a rather gruff, "What the hell's up with you?"

Annoyed ghostly eyes stopped their roving to settling on him, and then they narrowed into a glare. "Childish," he prudently stated, referring to the kick Uchiha delivered to his seat. The jibe was met with another and he grunted. "Nothing is up."

Sasuke scoffed. "Someone like you never looks around like that." To reinstate his point, he surveyed the entire garden filled with various members of their class and their parents, searching for something of obvious interest and finding none. "What are you even looking for?"

"No one."

A dark brow raised. "I didn't say 'who.'"

Neji froze so minutely, anyone else would've missed it. But not Sasuke.

And then he abruptly stood, shooting a little scowl down at the youngest Uchiha brother. "I'm going to look for Shikamaru." Without preface, he left, slipping into the crowd and exchanging bows and hellos where he deemed fit.

Sasuke only followed him for a short moment, puzzled when Hyuuga went towards the brunch building, opposite of where they'd both last saw Shikamaru. Shrugging, he went on to give the place another once over.

There stood the Uzumaki-Namikaze mother and father, both sunnily greeting members of the general populace, warm as all possible despite the crowd so dense around them that it was a wonder Sasuke could even see. The natural shoe-in for the mayoral campaign cultivated quite the political following here, but even Sasuke knew that most of these families gallivanting for the Namikaze were only there to flock and flee after playing nice. Plastics.

Kiba and Shino and their parents were exchanging small talk at their shared round table over a small platter of well-cooked pork belly and waffle bites. And when he searched further, he barely spotted his brother's head peeking from between people, talking to students and admirers alike for his approaching presidency at the school. The poster boy of perfection, elder Uchiha stood flanked by his VP, Sasori Akasuna, and his treasurer, Deidara Iwagi.

And then he finally spotted his idiotic best friend, at a table close to the entrance and along the pink rose hedges. Irritated with Hyuuga's annoying behavior, Sasuke got to his feet and strolled along, bypassing every attempt at conversation from both admirers of him and of his family's company.

He failed to immediately realize the blonde wasn't alone.

"Naruto."

Sweeping arms stopped in their wild gesturing, and Sasuke tilted his head in a nod at the Nara only half paying attention to him. When blue eyes glanced back, a little pocket of pink appeared in between the two boys.

The Uchiha—for the fucking life of him—found that there truly were first times for everything. First time walking, talking, first time speaking and hugging.

First time feeling his breath stop short.

Ask for something long or hard enough and eventually, life did funny things bringing them to you when you never expected it.

"Bastard! I've been looking everywhere for you! Finally made it out of your cave?" Naruto greeted, wriggling his brows and elbowing his best friend. "I've been trying to introduce you, but eheh—well anyways. Sakura-chan! This is the bastard I keep talking about. And Sasuke, this—"

He gestured gallantly to the petite pink package sitting against the white garden chair, braid between Shikamaru's fingers, hands folded, eyes smiling slightly.

"—is Sakura Haruno."

Sakura Haruno.

"What can you tell me about a 'Sakura Haruno'?"

Alright well—I uh—you know the drill.

A couple things:

(1) This whole thing with people not knowing Sakura and the fascination with her family looks dramatic as fuck (yes, I know), but it has massive purpose. I remember first watching Naruto not knowing her parents and BAM, suddenly they're on Narutopedia, too and I was like, "wHO, WHAT, WHERE-!?"

I wanted them known, but not "known." The same for Sakura, and that's how we get to see people peel back all those quiet layers. She'll become louder, stronger, more carefree as we go.

(2) The luncheon isn't meant to be this massive confrontation deal. Actually, the next chapter is back to school and we'll get to see more SasuSaku finally happening. This was more of like a uh, y'know, get the people curious and talking type of deal. Pacing will pick up more next time around.

(3) Also, I chose to characterize Neji in this particular way on purpose. I'm a fat NejiSaku shipper, so-

(4) I really do hope these massive chapters aren't too much! A 5k word count per update can be hectic so let me know if you want it toned down.

Seeya!

- burrblefish