Even with the passage of six long years, the Akasen District isn't much to look at in the daytime. The darkness within its walls, the sins Konoha hides, slumber until the glimmer of dusk appears on the horizon. Strings of unlit lanterns swing forlornly in the breeze; the slotted wooden doors of the palaces of pleasure remain tightly shut. Without the veil the night provides, its flaws are glaringly apparent; there are chunks of cobblestone missing from the paved roads, and the drains are clogged with refuse and the soggy remains of cheap party favors. The overwhelming, slightly sour scent of cheap perfume and alcohol from the previous night's debauchery still hangs in their air like a foul cloud.

Although most of the Akasen is deep in slumber, there is still much work to do before the festivities begin at dusk. The servant girls, dressed in ragged clothes, creep out from hidden passageways to sweep away the traces of the previous night in preparation of what is to come.

A stray cat, ribs visible underneath a ragged calico coat, follows one such girl carrying bags of garbage to the dumpsters in the alleyways behind the pleasure district. The feral strays tend to avoid the dumpsters; only the luckiest of the scavengers can glean lean leftovers and dregs of weak gruel. Most of them prefer to skulk around the river near the outskirts of the district. Unlike the ones who nose through the trash heaps, the strays by the river are noticeably plump. The reason for their health goes unspoken by the locals, but when customers who frequent the bars and brothels go missing every once in a blue moon, the Uchiha police officers have learned to scour the riverbank for whatever is left of the bodies.

There is little kindness given freely in the Akasen, and the stray that follows the servant child as she struggles with her burden does it more out of boredom than out of any expectation of food or charity. It sits back on its haunches and idly watches as the small child hefts the bulky garbage bags on her small shoulders. She's shorter than the dumpster bin, and she barely manages to hoist the bags into the containers by standing on the tips of her toes. The stray is hungry, but it's more entranced by the girl's hair, when for a brief moment, the alleyway is illuminated with sunlight and the pale, washed-out pink blushes into a more vibrant hue.

The Akasen relies on cheap tricks, smoke and mirrors, to maintain its illusion of eternal beauty and grandeur. This girl's hair is nothing like the coiffed, perfumed hairdos and elaborately decorated wigs that the aging geisha continue to don. It's unkempt and long, stringy with grease and soot after long hours of standing in front of the coal-lit burner in the basement of the okiya. When the rays of sunlight glance upon the child's head, however, it lights up like a pink halo. It's beautiful in a rough way that is reminiscent of fresh, untouched snow on the rooftops on a cold winter morning. Nothing else in the Akasen is quite able to match its innocent loveliness.

But of course, nothing stays pure and unsullied in the Akasen for long. There is a reason why good little boys and girls are forbidden by their parents from even looking at the red fluted gates fencing the Akasen. It's because the gates are not meant to keep outsiders from coming in; they are meant to keep things from coming out of the bowels of the Underworld.

Things that thrive on destruction, on ruination, on death.

For instance, like the thing lurking in the shadows that watches the girl from a distance.

AN: Reposted on 1/22/18 for minor edits and sentence flow. Sakura is currently six years old, and there's a thing in the shadows waiting for her. Dun dun dun. The next chapter's going to be rough for little Sakura, so stay tuned. I'd love to hear your thoughts!