A warm up. Action doesn't really start until Chapter 2.

Chapter 1

"Tou-san?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you and kaa-san leaving now?"

"Yeah." A hair tousle. "Sorry, little blossom. Kaa-san's gone already, she sends you lots of love." He taps the girl on the nose.

She sneezes, then frowns. "When will you be back?"

A pause. "Next Friday."

"That's a long time. You're always gone on missions."

A hug. "Heyy, don't be sad, Sakura-chan! Kaa-san and I...we'll bring you a present, okay?"

"Okay." Her chin wobbles. "Be safe."

"Don't worry, Sakura-chan," Kizashi gives his daughter's hair another ruffle. "Lots of people are coming with us. Everything will be okay, promise." He extends a tan, curved pinky.

"Okay." She sticks out her own pinky, and entwines it with his, and they shake hands. "Take Momo with you." She hands him a stuffed rabbit, white but scruffy, ears slightly tattered, faded red ribbon around its neck. A small row of stitches trail down its abdomen, a remnant from the kunai that had once pierced it through Kizashi's waist pouch during a desert skirmish.

"One day." Sakura looks up, green eyes bright with inner fire. "I'll become a great shinobi like you. And I'll come with you and kaa-san on missions, and you won't need Momo at all, because I'll protect you!"

The man's blue eyes darken, glisten. "Okay Sakura-chan." The little girl is pulled into an all-enveloping hug. "Just promise me," a fierce whisper in her ear, "be a great protector."

She inhales the warm scent of cinnamon and safety. A coarse pink mustache tickles her forehead.

"I promise."

"I'm proud of you." He gives her shoulders one last squeeze. "Be a good girl, okay? Remember to set your alarm clock, and lock the door when you leave for class-don't skip!"

"I'll be good."

He presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Sakura-chan." He turns off the light, stands up. In the dark, the water droplets on her bedspread are rendered invisible.

"'Bye, tou-san."

"I love you, Sakura-chan."

The door closes.

Umino Iruka is an average shinobi. He was just shy of twelve when he graduated the Academy, and sixteen when he made chuunin. He took the chuunin exams three times, the jounin ones twice. He retired from active missions after a his second visit to Death's front porch, from which he was sent away with a thump on the head and a searing kiss to the nose. There's a patch of skin at the back of his scalp that will forever remain bare now, carefully covered by the base of his spiky ponytail. The tender flesh stretching across his cheeks still burns sometimes, and remembers.

Like other Academy instructors, Iruka is respected by his students in the perfunctory way all adults are, and keeps order in the classroom through a genial mixture of benevolence and the occasional bout of exasperated austerity. He lets his class out promptly at two-thirty in the afternoon, then does paperwork until four-thirty before leaving.

Today is no different. At precisely four-thirty, Iruka gathers up a pile of graded tests and leaves the classroom with the papers cradled in his left elbow, sliding the door closed behind him. He checks the locks on the front doors-it's Friday-and leaves the building, turning left towards a park on his way to the grocers. It is normally a quiet walk.

So Iruka is surprised to see a small crowd of children gathered up ahead, around the sandbox of a small playground set along the path. He treads closer. He recognizes these children from the academy, and they recognize him too, and run away upon spotting him. "Later, Forehead!" a girl hollers as they disappear down the road. Iruka peers behind the sandbox. One child is still there, head bowed. It is a little girl in a red dress, scrapes on her knees and dirt on her palms, soft pink hair floating around her rounded face like a cloud of cotton candy. He knows this girl. She rarely speaks in class, and sits in the back row.

"Sakura?"

The girl peeks up at him through her bangs. "Iruka-sensei?"

He kneels. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Did you fall?"

Shake.

Iruka frowns. "It's getting pretty late. Where are your parents?"

Sakura eyes are suspiciously moist. "They're on a mission."

Oh. "Well, how about I walk you home then?"

A sniffle.

"Actually, nevermind. How about we get you cleaned up and have some dinner at the marketplace? My treat!" He gently rests a hand on her crown of soft pink locks. Groceries can wait.

"Can we have dango?"

A surprised huff of a laugh escapes Iruka. "How about ramen instead? We can get some dango for dessert, okay?" She responds with a shaky smile.

He takes her back to the academy, washes and disinfects her scrapes with a medical kit in the main office. There are small cuts on her palm as well, beneath the dirt. He puts a piece of gauze on each knee.

"You up for some dinner?"

"Yes, please."

"Let's go then!"

The Ichiraku ramen stand shines with a cheery glow that radiates out to the street from beneath the entrance flaps. A comfortable clatter of pots and pans emanates from behind the counter. Teuchi greets them with a grin as they each grab a stool.

"Hey, Iruka! Back again? And who's this little lady?"

"I'm Sakura." She waves.

"Well, hello! Call me Teuchi! What would you like today?"

"I've never had ramen before." A whisper.

"How about a miso then?" Iruka suggests, "I'll take a tonkatsu."

"Coming right up! On the house, since it's Sakura-chan's first time," Teuchi shoots them a wink over his shoulder.

"You come here often, sensei?"

"Aa, once a week, usually."

"Oh. I normally eat at home."

"Your mom's cooking must be delicious."

"I cook."

Iruka blinks. "Isn't that dangerous? You're seven."

"Eight now, sensei. I mostly make onigiri when I'm alone."

There is a loud rattle from the kitchen followed by the brief sound of rushing water hitting metal. Teuchi bustles out with two steaming bowls on a tray. "Here you are! Please enjoy!" Teuchi places a bowl in front of each of them, then takes the serving platter back into the kitchen.

"Itadakimasu," they chorus.

Sakura inhales. Thick steam curls against her face.

"Is it good?"

"Delicious."

They eat in companionable silence.

"So.." Iruka trails off, clears his throat. Stirs his broth a little-the noodles are gone. "Your friends call you 'Forehead'?"

He is mildly surprised at the lack of tears, but Sakura had always struck him as a reticent, precocious child. Her voice is shaky. "N-no. We're not friends."

He waits. "Were they bullying you then?" he asks gently. Reaching out a hand, he rests it lightly on her shoulder.

A small nod. Her hair trembles.

"Why?"

Her shoulders hunch. "Because I'm w-weird. And my forehead is huge." Her voice turns flat.

"No it's not! Your forehead seems fine to me, Sakura-chan." Gripping her shoulder, Iruka steers her off the stool, sparing a moment to feel grateful that she didn't eat ten bowls. He is going to have a word with those bullies.

Waving good-bye to Teuchi, he leads her across the street to a small teahouse. He orders a plate of mitarashi dango.

Sakura has been quiet. Head tilted down, Iruka can only see the tip of her nose twitching slightly beneath her long bangs, dusky in the lantern light. Iruka waits patiently until she looks up. Her eyebrows and furrowed, eyes emerald with fervor. She is almost glaring at him, and expression he has never seen on her face before. With the air of one who is about to expose a damning secret, she bursts out, "My forehead IS big, Iruka-sensei! Look at it!" she rakes her bangs back from her face in a spasm of movement, "It's giant!"

Iruka can't help but laugh. "It's not that big at all, Sakura chan," he waves his hands in an attempt at consolation at her half furious, half despondent face. "You'll grow into it in a few years. It's really rather cute!"

"Do you...really think so?"

"Aa. You definitely will. Don't listen to those bullies!" His voice is firm, "Did they cause those scrapes?"

"I...fell."

"..Aa."

"Thank you for helping me."

A waiter comes with a plate of dango and two cups of green tea. The tea is hot against Iruka's mouth, almost scalding, with a fresh, clean scent. It is good tea. The dango is chewy, syrupy, and still wonderfully warm from the grill. He grabs a second stick. Sakura swings her feet as she polishes off her first.

"Ne, Iruka-sensei?"

"Hm?" The girl seems slightly hesitant, but her shoulders have loosened. She chews on a dumpling slowly.

"Do you think I'll be a good shinobi someday?"

Iruka pauses. "Of course I do. What brought this on?"

Sakura is silent for a beat, then two.

"They said I'm too weak to be a ninja." She grips her skewer tightly. "Because my taijutsu is horrible, and I'm bad at kunai-throwing. And, I don't have any clan jutsu."

She bows her head. "But I made a promise recently." Quietly. "I said I'd be a great shinobi one day. And I intend to keep it."

"Sakura." Iruka's voice is firm. "Don't listen to those bullies. You are at the top of your class on exams and theory-in fact, you received full marks on the one I held today," he gestures to the pile of graded tests on the seat beside him, "and you're not just book-smart, either. You're technique is flawless during genjutsu sessions-the Academy teachers actually think you're a genjutsu type, which is rare, especially in Konoha." He wonders offhandedly if he isn't breaking an Academy rule of some sort by telling her all of this, and shrugs mentally.

Sakura's feeble protests have trailed off into silence, and she looks at him with a spark of hope in her eyes.

"It's true that your taijutsu and stamina needs some work, but those things can all be improved upon with practice." Iruka offers the girl a warm smile as he pays for the bill. "Believe in yourself, Sakura." Sliding the pile of tests into a flap inside his flak jacket, he offers grinning girl a hand up from the table. "Will you practice?"

"Hai!"

"Alright," Iruka chuckles. The child is really quite adorable. He suddenly feels strangely benevolent. "Want to piggyback to your house?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me which way to turn," he instructs as he walks. Skinny legs wrap themselves snugly around his waist, small hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

A squeeze on his left shoulder. "Left." Another squeeze. "Left." A squeeze on his right.

Left squeeze.

Right squeeze.

"My house is the one with the red roof, by the lamppost."

"Aa." The street is silent save the soft shuffle of dark sandals against packed dirt. "You know, Sakura-chan, your chakra control is amazing." He readjusts his grip on her thigh. "I've never heard of anyone with perfect control before…" He sets her down gently. "That's kind of like a clan jutsu, ne? Maybe even better!" He smiles at her look of wonder.

"Thanks, Iruka-sensei." She grips the hem of her dress. "For dinner, too, and cleaning my cuts."

Her hair dances in the breeze. He gives it a quick ruffle. "No problem, Sakura-chan." He turns toward the direction of his own apartment. "See you on Monday! Talk more in class, okay? I know you know the answers!"

Sakura grins radiantly at his retreating back. "Hai, sensei!"