Author's Note: HI EVERYONE!! Truth be told, it's not uncommon for pink hair to appear in anime, but I thought it'd be fun to write about it…

So, this one shot came to me one day in the shower when I was thinking of a summary to go along with the phrase, "Contrary to popular belief,…"

I get my inspirations at the weirdest times. Am I the only one?

I hope you like this one as I delve into the history of pink hair! Much love to all the readers and reviewers. 33

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Sakura vaguely remembered a stage in her childhood where almost everyone made fun of her…odd appearance. Needless to say, she didn't fit in.

Starting with an abnormally wide forehead…

(Tenten had later remarked that having a large forehead wasn't necessarily a bad thing; Chinese superstition apparently stated that it just meant she would have a successful and filling career. Sakura couldn't deny that…After all, she was one of the top medics in Konoha, next to Tsunade-shishou and Shizune.)

Her cheery pink hair and vivid green eyes only aided in making Sakura look…peculiar. Out of place; always standing out in crowds, one way or the other.

Back in the days, the now-twenty-one year old woman mused, it was Ino who usually stood out the most. With twinkling blue eyes and glossy blonde hair, her best friend was what some people defined as, "Traditional glamour beauty."

Sakura felt her mind reeling back, way back, back when her parents were still among the living and she was once a child.

Back when her father had told her of his story, had shared with her the woes of having pink hair. It was he who had taught her to be proud in the fact that she was a Haruno, the only one besides him to possess that shade of hair.

It was true; many who were acquainted with Sakura (one way or the other, she thought, ranging from mere associates, friends, best friends, teachers, family, and husband, lover) thought that the medic had inherited her pink locks from her mother. Or, an aunt, a grandmother, great-grandmother, perhaps.

But no one outside the Haruno family (except for Ino, who had been over to her house quite a few times. Upon her realization when she was still young, Ino had gaped and exclaimed Sakura's dad to have the coolest hair ever) had known that Sakura shared her pink tresses with her father, Arashi.

She smiled and sat down on the railing of the balcony of her house, swinging her slender legs easily over the edges.

Sakura sat up straight, allowing her hands to grasp the sturdy white bar, fingering the delicate carved wooden flowers and vines that decorated the whole terrace.

Closing her eyes and feeling her tender pink hair brush against her cheeks with the light summer breeze, Sakura immersed herself into that day, of where everything a Haruno could be proud of was unfolded.

(Well, aside from the fact that she was married and carried on the name of her husband; Sakura still considered herself a Haruno, now the only one with generous pink tendrils of hair, after the death of her parents.)

It really wasn't a particularly good day for the six year old, and the fair weather of Konoha that day seemed to mock her, with the perfect white clouds hovered over her head, jeering at her, the beautiful flowers along the streets and in the Yamanaka's shop, smirking, laughing at what a horrible day Sakura was having.

Not a good day at all.

Sakura couldn't really remember what had happened precisely, but she knew that Ami and all the other bullies and once again teased her about her odd appearance mercilessly, albeit with Ino defending her (again.) She knew something had happened along the lines of her crying and mistakenly tripped, falling against some sort of rocky, hard ground.

(The medic thought it was near a sign-pole of some kind, because she was wounded by the metal rod.) Sakura did know that she had received her first stitches that day (on her knee), and although it wasn't much (it was around three to four stitches) compared to the ones she received nowadays on missions, the injury (and surgery) hurt like hell.

Little Sakura sat on her bed, sobbing her big green eyes out like there was no tomorrow.

And she fervently hoped that there wasn't a 'tomorrow', not with everything that happened today.

Her father had came in to her room, clad in full ANBU attire, all ready to leave for the next mission.

There was still plenty of time before the mission needed to be executed though.

"Sakura…Now, I know that the stitches hurt, but you'll get used to them…speaking of which, how did you fall upon the pole just like that? Blegh, I still remember the day I got my first stitches. Practically cursed the medics to the afterlife..."

She laughed; Dad always managed to cheer her up (one way or the other). Sakura wiped away her tears as he sat cross-legged in front of her, smiling with his angled brown eyes with warmth emanating from them.

"Well, Ami and her friends teased me about my forehead and ugly pink hair again…"

Haruno Arashi gasped as if his daughter had just said THE most horrifying thing ever. Like how Ichiraku's was going to be closed down the next day, or how the existence of chopsticks in Konoha was wiped out completely.

"How rude!" he huffed, combing his gloved fingers through his own share of tousled pink locks. (Although Sakura's was never messy, one way or the other, back then; Arashi wondered if that was the difference between females and males: were females just born with better hair than males?)

Sakura giggled. Dad was just a little kid like her sometimes.

Arashi shook his hair, bouncing around the tresses that were the exact same shade as hers.

"Now, you don't listen to a word that girl Ami has to say about your—OUR hair. What color hair does SHE have, hmm?"

"She has purple---"

"HA! Ami was probably just jealous that she herself couldn't have fabulous pink hair, like yours, and mine, and just harassed you to save face."

"Ohh…I never thought of it that way…But Ami's hair isn't particularly that bad, either, it—"

"--Right. But wait, I want to tell you of how everyone else teased me about my hair when I was young."

"Oh. Okay, go ahead Daddy, tell me."

Sakura's grin spread even more as she recalled the story that her father had told, his own life story on the shame of being a boy—or, man, and with a bright mop of pink hair.

It had never really occurred to Arashi that having pink hair was a problem; not until he entered the Academy, of course. That was when the real troubles began; starting right at the moment he set foot in the classroom.

"Hey everyone, look at the boy who has pink hair!"

"Whoa, it's so pink! Did you dye it or something?"

"Baka! Why would a boy dye his own hair pink?"

The others just whispered and giggled, while the girls chattered among themselves, saying as how that particular shade of pink reminded them of a beloved pair of shoes, the frame of a mother's vanity mirror, etc…

Arashi felt his face being engulfed by flames, but brushed off the feeling, and sat down stiffly on the edge of the bench. Next to him was a girl with vibrant green eyes and short black hair, conversing merrily with her friend, who also had black hair (albeit with a slight blue-ish, navy tint…like the color of a raven's feathers), but with sweet, onyx eyes.

The girl with the (really pretty and bright) green eyes looked at him and smiled kindly.

"I like your hair; I think it's pretty."

She was his match, his future wife.

Arashi had grinned widely and felt his ego inflate a little.

"Thanks!"

Someday, he knew, he would make EVERYONE admire him. And his pink hair. And EVERYONE would wish that they had the shiny, soft pink locks that Arashi had! Dattebayo!

Eventually though, he felt his resolve cracking, until it finally slithered into the remote parts of his brain. Arashi wanted to fit in with all his friends, and although he couldn't complain of being in the spotlight all the time (because, he always was, one way or the other…he liked attention, anyways),but it annoyed Arashi to great ends that people STILL teased him about his masculinity and pink hair.

Really, pink hair had NOTHING to do with him being (or not being) a complete, wholesome, strong man.

(Or so his wife had discovered in due time.)

What was all the fuss with his hair, anyways? Sure, Arashi had caved in once, and tried to dye his hair a different color.

HOWEVER, the results were a different story. His hair had turned completely orange-bronze-golden, which TOTALLY clashed with Arashi's tan skin and hearty complexion.

No one had ever let him live it down. (Not until his death in an ANBU mission.)

Arashi tried everything from then on, thinking that there HAD to be some type of colorant that would make his hair look normal. Somehow, he botched them all (one way or the other) and the Haruno ended up with various odd hair colors, never once ending up with plain, absolutely normal brown or black hair. Or even a nice blonde shade, like the class clown back in the Academy, with sunny yellow hair and a bright, cheery grin.

(Arashi wondered how the guy ever calmed down and took life seriously. And, how did that guy ever get into ANBU anyways? And lead a squad? Ah, the great mysteries of life…)

It wasn't until Arashi was twenty-one, when returning from a particularly bloody mission, did he notice that a little bit of blood had gotten on his head, smeared on the pink strands. How, he didn't know, since he wore a cloak and hood to cover his unique hair color, for fear of unnecessary complications.

Peering closer, he had tried to pick out the clumps of dried blood.

But, Arashi stopped and gaped.

His pink hair had turned brown, almost black, when mingled with blood. A part of him argued that it was probably the only solution there ever was to make his hair presentable, to make everyone take him seriously. (With his personality, most acquaintances had assumed Arashi dyed his hair pink to earn a few laughs.) Another part argued that if bloodshed was what it took to make himself appear normal, then it wasn't worth it.

He listened. And never tried making his hair seem normal.

Besides, washing your head with blood probably wasn't the best idea: you would probably stink to the high heavens anyways.

Sakura opened her own vibrant green eyes as a gentle smile swept across her doll-like face. After her father had told his tale to her, he proceeded with his mission. (No, it wasn't that mission.)

The woman beamed happily as she recalled another thing that her father had told her before he took off to his mission…

"Demo, otou-san, I still don't think that I'll be ready to face Ami again in the future…"

Arashi sighed dramatically, as if he was being forced to tell her a secret, a juicy piece of gossip, a rumor…

"Well, consider yourself lucky that you were born into my household, dear Sakura."

"Hai!"

"So, I shall tell you something of utmost importance, and you will never speak of it again, understand?" He cocked an elegant pink eyebrow in such a silly fashion that Sakura instantly found her hopes back. She eagerly nodded, waiting for the big secret.

He leaned forward to her ear, and whispered:

"Whatever else you do in life, you have to make sure that you end up with someone who has dark, if not black, hair. Yeah, kind of like your mother's hair color. It just has to be dark. You'll never regret it."

And with that, her father winked at her, then bid his goodbyes.

At that moment, Sakura had found herself thinking that it was just complete nonsense; your future happiness certainly did not depend on the color of hair your love-life-partner had.

Ah, but she should've known…Daddy dearest knew best.

She hopped off the elegant balcony railing and turned around, facing the ever-blue skies of Konoha, with the birds flying and clouds drifting freely.

Sakura grinned and saluted towards the general direction of the memorial, the image of her father with his own mop of pink hair saluting her back with a supposedly stern face, and her mother laughing, green eyes filled with glee and mirth.

The medic had always thought that there was something amiss with her father's tale, but she let it slide, and just assumed that something peculiar had happened, one way or the other. Arashi had never spoken again of his story, and Sakura had never asked again; for she was proud of her heritage—and pink locks—from that day on.

Maybe her dad had left out something terribly gruesome or something terribly romantic, but Sakura had let it slide; she would ask again in heaven.

Sakura went down the stairs and to the main floor, where she found her husband, once again back from another gruesome mission, (No, she wasn't reminiscing when Sasuke-kun just stood there waiting for her. He had knocked, loud and clear), splattered with blood in his ANBU attire; yet with a tender look in his eyes…She smiled her special smile, just for him, and started to clean off her beloved and check for wounds.

Sure, Sakura was an Uchiha now, (after a series of awkward events, Sasuke had finally been 'retrieved' and managed to ask her to share his heritage and start "rebuilding the Uchiha clan"), but that didn't mean she wasn't a Haruno.

Sakura always was one, and would always be one, starting from the day she inhaled her first breath and her family gaped at her startling pink hair to the day of her death, perhaps when her hair had turned a silvery-type of pink.

Actually, Sakura considered, she should also perform the anti-aging jutsus Tsunade-sama used when her hair color begins to dwindle. She didn't want her family, and maiden name to be put to shame.

(Unless the child in Sakura's stomach had that shade of hair, becoming the first Uchiha with pink tresses…but no, she wouldn't involve blood to transform the color if that happened. Sakura didn't want the house to stink all the way to high heavens; she supposed her father had better make sure this child wouldn't have pink hair.)

Only Harunos had, and will always have, the honor of possessing pink hair.