A/N: Those of you who have read some of GaaHina: Beauty and The Beast might recognize the writing style I've used in the very beginning of the chapter. It's probably my favorite, but gets very confusing after a while, so I transition out of it fairly quickly.

---

She sits silently on the cold metal bench, studying the threadbare bottle-green carpet. Her legs swing back and forth slowly, and her hands are tightly clasped, thin fingers still clutching the faded carpet bag on her lap. Absentmindedly she pulls at the worn fringe, trying to divert her thoughts from the turmoil of ideas inside. But she can't. No matter what she tries, she can think of nothing else; nothing can distract her.

Her matted, tangled hair hangs limply in front of her gaunt, pallid face, masking her cloudy green eyes. Someone has attempted to tie it back with a fraying silver ribbon. They haven't succeeded.

The welts and scratches that cover her thin back and shoulders beneath the starched lilac kimono have only begun healing, although it has been a week already; her cheekbones are bruised, an eye blacked, and an ugly cut runs through her cracked lower lip.

Today is my wedding day. A girlish giggle burst from her suddenly; somehow, the thought struck her as comical. A child like herself—married? Why, Kaa-san had been much older when she had become engaged to Tou-san, with his big belly, so full of laughter and dumplings. And her twelfth birthday only a few months ago! Ino had come—Kaa-san insisted that she be invited-- and given her a lovely comb set, as well as some monaka smeared across her face.

Cha! She certainly wouldn't ask Ino to the wedding. The pig would be too jealous to come, anyway—hadn't they always been rivals for Sasuke? Why should Sakura offer an invitation to her defeated opponent?

But no, it wasn't Sasuke she was marrying, as difficult as that was to grasp. The tall, whiskered blonde man had said so. He was nice-- gorgeous smile and friendly cerulean eyes; but there was a strange sadness hidden in the exaggerated smile, something bittersweet in the way he looked at her.

Although he could be lying to her. After all, the man had claimed to be Naruto, and how could anyone so strong and handsome and gentle be that noisy, irritating moron? That was it; he was lying! After all, who in the world would she accept other than her beloved Sasuke-kun?

Sasuke-kun.

She clutched the bag to her chest, as if pressing it close would smother the tight, twisting feeling beneath it. Her mother would be there soon, to put ribbons in her hair and tell her what a lovely bride she made. Yes, and Tou-san would… would…

Something warm and salty and wet dropped onto the bag, and a quiet voice in her head whispered, Tou-san is dead.

"I know," she whispered back.

---

It was a strange wedding; hushed and solemn, funereal in all its aspects. The few who attended the brief ceremony wore dreary colors and drearier countenances. There were no vows of undying love and devotion; merely a senior clan member who chanted something no one could really catch about Hyuuga traditions, and a notary with papers for Sakura and her new husband to sign. This proved a difficulty, as the bride was unable to grasp either the fact that her name was no longer Haruno but Hyuuga, or the pen the notary provided.

Though he ensured that none of it rose to the surface, exasperation surged inside Neji at his "wife's" measured, awkward speech; at the way she fidgeted with her ill-fitting clothes, and the absentminded twisting of her snarled hair between her bony fingers. How Hiashi must be enjoying this. His uncle had undoubtedly chosen the most potent retribution for his outburst.

He bitterly rued the rashness of his tongue as his charge dropped the writing implement for the third time consecutively.

"Oh!" She flushed, embarrassed at her clumsiness. Why wouldn't her fingers do what she asked them? "Pick it up," she instructed her hand—silly, disobedient hand!

The notary exhaled heavily. What a way to start off a Tuesday morning. He checked his watch as she chased the pen across the floor for several moments before retrieving it with a shy smile.

"Sorry," she laughed bashfully, turning her concentration back to the document.

Neji fought the urge to wrench it from her hands, and instead took a deep breath, his fist clenching with irritation. "Sakura-san," he said through gritted teeth, the first time he had addressed her directly.

"Hai?" She wasn't paying attention, totally engrossed in her task.

"Would Ofukuro-sama let Neji-san help sign?" It seemed almost perverse using the spousal title in reference to the childish young woman who had problems writing her own name. He put a hand out trying to guide her scrawl, but she huddled protectively over the page.

"I can do it," she insisted, and as he made a second attempt to take control, her face lifted and imploring green eyes held his gaze. "Please."

There was a brightness, an intelligence buried somewhere in that stare, an intellect Neji had never suspected from the "half-wit" all of Konoha had been buzzing about for the past few days. Much to the notary's chagrin, he withdrew, curbing what frustration remained, and allowed her to finish tracing the characters of her new name.

"There." She beamed with satisfaction as the Hokage's legal representative snatched the papers away, with a pointed look at his wristwatch.

"Rokudaime-sama has already authorized these, and with both of your signatures, the marriage is now legally binding." Along his beeline out the door, Neji's sharp ears caught him murmur, "Good luck."

Thanks a lot, buddy.

Sakura appeared confused as to what happened next. Okaa-san never really said much about what took place after the wedding.

"Come, Sakura-sama." Her valise in hand, the man she was to call husband gestured toward the door impatiently.

"Where?" she asked, falling into hesitant step behind him. No one had mentioned going someplace with the quiet, severe stranger who signed the marriage license as "Hyuuga Neji." Maybe he was kidnapping her!

This notion was very exciting, and Sakura walked a little faster, envisioning a nefarious plot revolving around her, mastered by a brilliant, brooding, sensitive invalid who had become so tortured by his longing for her that he sent one of his goons to bring her to his mansion, concealed deep in a forbidding forest infested with wolves. He would be distant at first, wresting with his affections for a little while, but eventually he would crack under the strain and confess his love. Of course, she would graciously accept him, having come to love him as well over the time they had spent together. Her goodness would change him into the brave, strong, noble-hearted Adonis he was meant to be, and…

Utterly swept up in fantasies of romance and fairy-tale endings, she practically floated along after Neji in rapturous silence. The hush was ideal in his mind; talkative women were irritating, and as long as she stayed quiet, the situation might not be so horrific after all.

The near weightlessness of her case spurred his thoughts to speculation of what she could have packed. Surely the necessities—he had no intention of taking her shopping for toothbrushes and underwear.

The resulting mental picture at the allusion to underwear made his head spin, and he made a conscious effort in restraining from gouging out his eyeballs. Females had no idea just how unfortunate members of the opposite sex were. Without a doubt, the downsides to having both an 'x' and 'y' chromosome were many, but the images that entered the mind's eye at the slightest suggestion tortured him the most. Although none of the other men in Konoha believed his protests, there were definite cons that came with x-ray vision.

Blissfully unaware of his torment, Sakura had been pulled from her daydreams by a gust of wind, toying with a few loose strands of her consort's sleek dark hair. They shimmered temptingly, floating in the autumn breeze, and her hand went out, catching one glossy lock between her fingers. Fine and smooth, almost like silk threads; so pleasant to the touch! She yearned to bury her face in it, run her hands through—

Neji jerked away from her exploring grasp fiercely, feeling violated. No one played with his hair; it simply wasn't done. He rubbed the tender spot the hairs had caused when yanked from his head with his free hand, before whirling on her, seething.

"Hear me, Sakura-sama," he spat, with more venom lacing the title than respect. "Hiashi-dono may have forced us into this arrangement, but you must get this through that broad cranium of yours: we are not actually 'married,' and I am not your husband. I am your guardian, and as a guardian alone will I act. Expect no tenderness or simpering affection from me; I am unused to receiving, and equally unused to displaying them. It was an untoward turn of fate that Hiashi-dono decreed our marriage as a necessary legality, which is all that that ceremony was. We will dwell under the same roof, but as ward and warden only." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away down the street.

She blinked, utterly flabbergasted at the response one simple touch had elicited. This Hyuuga Neji was frightening, both in his icy indifference and volcanic bursts of temper.

Maybe he was a kidnapper after all.

A/N: This chapter was fun to write, especially the present-tense section at the beginning. I wanted to make it clear that Sakura is not 'retarded;' she is in an extreme state of shock, as ANBU told Naruto. She is living half in the present, and half in a warped, delusional version of the past. Her reactions and movements have been slowed, and her awareness of her surroundings is severely reduced, but her mind is still sharp, if far from reality part of the time.