Sakura had grown up as an isolated child.

Perhaps it was because everyone feared her abilities, expected her to kill them, even when she was only a young one.

Her surrogate mother, Tsunade, told Sakura not to worry about it. And, of course, Tsunade spoke from experience—she had been isolated, herself, from the rest of the village. It was she who had built the little cottage where they lived, full of familial warmth. It wasn't fancy and it wasn't big, but, for Sakura, living there with a strong kind woman who loved her very much, was enough.

Even if everyone else hated her, if Tsunade was there, it would always be enough.

And then, when Sakura was ten, Tsunade died.

Tsunade had gone out for an errand in the village, hiding herself in a cloak, because Sakura's mother knew about the villagers' fear and also knew that fear could cause people to do dangerous things.

Sakura wasn't clear on how it happened, since she hadn't been present at the time, but someone had recognized Tsunade and gathered a mob to follow her. And then they had burned her—burning, which Tsunade had always told Sakura, was the only known way of killing their kind—to the ground.

She may not have known how it happened but Sakura knew that it happened.

Not because anyone told her and not hours later, but as soon as her mother died. She felt an odd chill run down her back and her heart squeezed and she had strangest urge to break down and cry and she knew without a doubt that Tsunade was dead and she was never coming back.

It was enough to make Sakura want to leave her precious home. The villagers were clearly ruthless and would not take kindly to the remaining witch in the village, even if she was a youth with bright green, innocent eyes who hadn't seen the world and hadn't had much time to hone her abilities just yet.

However Tsunade had left something behind in her death: an incantation she must have murmured when Sakura was sleeping, that Sakura was only able to feel after her mother's death. She could recognize the magic in the air; it was definitely Tsunade's, with a faint smell of sake attached to it that she could sense.

And with her special sensitivity she knew what the spell was for, too.

It prohibited her from leaving the village if Tsunade ever died and prevented any villager from being able to kill her.

Sakura didn't know how she had done it because it was frighteningly powerful magic and she had not seen Tsunade perform any such feat before that.

She hadn't even known such an incantation existed.

But what Sakura really wanted to know was, if Tsunade had so much power, why hadn't she protected herself with that spell, before she had gone into the village?

She did not let this question haunt her mind for long, though. The first night after Tsunade had died, she set to work to find all the texts hidden in the cottage. And night after night, year after year, she studied them.

Not that she was able to ever reach the height of success her mother had. But she learnt about spells and magical herbs to heal the wounded. Maybe it was wishful thinking to believe that anyone would ever wish for her aid, but it made Sakura less restless if she was able to become someone that could do more help than harm.

And a century later—because witches didn't age after a certain time and couldn't die of old age and Sakura had stopped aging when she was nineteen—the opportunity came.

She was in the garden—something else she had cultivated over the years—, picking herbs when she heard the thud of footsteps.

They were heavy-sounding, probably a man, and seemed to drag against the ground. She stopped what she was doing to run behind a tree, hardly daring to breathe, because no one ever came to her parts.

Sakura huddled there for a moment before peeking out, because she hadn't seen another person ever since the day Tsunade died and she was unbearably curious about the rest of humanity.

The other party hadn't noticed her yet. It was a man, as she had guessed, one who was young and appeared to be in his twenties. His locks were dark, as were his eyes, which were looking around.

First, to the garden and the herbs she had forgotten to grab and take with her, then at the footprints in the mud that she had made as she ran, and finally to the tree.

His eyes moved from top to bottom and ended up locked on hers. "Who are you?" he demanded to know. It was not an intensely demanding voice, but one of a man who usually got what he wanted.

"I'm…" she had not spoken aloud for a very long time and her voice was rusty. She cleared it quickly. "I am Sakura."

There. Everyone knew the name Sakura; it had been passed down generations in the village. It was a name they feared, even if they had not seen her face-to-face. It would certainly cause this man to run away in haste.

But he did not. "Sakura what?" One of his hands had been on the sword on his back, she noticed. But he had speedily let go as soon she spoke.

She was at a loss. There was no one who didn't know her, no one who would even dare wander into this forest so daringly. "Might you be a traveler, sir?"

"You did not answer my last question."

"But I answered the one before that." She watched him carefully and stood, stepping out from behind the tree. "It is only fair to ask a question and expect to be asked a question."

The man scoffed. "Fairness does not exist."

She tilted her head and made her way to her garden, picking up her herbs. He did not seem like he wanted to cause harm. "I would like to think it does in this case."

He blinked at her. "I am a traveler," he said finally, reluctantly, looking like she had tortured the answer out of him. He did not say anything else, staring at her as if waiting for her to say something.

She only realized what it was after a moment. "Oh!" she gasped. "I apologize. But I am afraid Sakura is the only name I have."

He raised one dark, thin eyebrow. "Everyone has a last name. Even orphans are appointed with some name, so they aren't set apart from the others."

But not people like her, Sakura thought helplessly. Not ones gifted with her abilities. She did not say this to the man though. If he didn't know, then it was all the better for her. It was rather….refreshing to talk to someone, without them running away in panic.

This thought, the thought that this man did not who she was, made her stand up a little taller, her smile growing brighter as she did. "And what is your name?"

The man seemed to have noticed her change of demeanor but said nothing of it. "Sasuke."

She waited, but he didn't grace her with his last name. Her smile faltered a bit, and she made an effort to hold it in place. Smiling was important, she knew. She had learned that years ago, back when Tsunade was alive. "If you're a traveler, then I'm sure you want somewhere to rest for the night. Might my cottage be of use to you?"

"Are you always this kind to strangers?" Sakura was taken aback by the tone of his voice. He sounded angry. She ran through the words she had said. There was some offensive meaning, possibly? She had not had the chance to learn that much from Tsunade.

"I don't meet many strangers," she said, choosing her words very carefully. "Hardly anyone comes to this part of the village; it's not a favored place." Because she lived there.

"And why is that?" Sasuke wanted to know, a frown on his face as he analyzed their surroundings, once again grabbing is sword, as if there was danger oncoming.

She looked around as well. The settings were perfectly fine; that was not the problem. There were large trees all around, trees that she had enjoyed climbing once-upon-a-time, so she could look out from the very top and see the world. Her garden had grown beautifully, as well, the colors vibrant in their spots. The birds chirped, and she could hear the deer galloping, a little while away, as well as she could smell the freshwater of the pond close by. Her humble cottage completed the scenery, making it seem like something out of one of the fairy-tale stories she had found in her home.

"I'm not sure, actually," she said thoughtfully, even though she, of course, knew everything. "It's a lovely place, wouldn't you agree? And it's only gotten prettier over the years."

"You say that as if you've been here for long," Sasuke said. She froze. She had gotten caught up in the moment, letting all her years wash over her, as if she was an old woman who she'd never become.

She caught herself and smiled at him, hoping it was convincing and he would ignore her slip. "My mother and father told me stories."

He didn't look convinced but he didn't push it. "I'll take you up on your offer."

Confused, she blinked up at him for a moment, then—, "Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Please. Allow me to show you in."

He took a long stride and, as swift as the wind, grabbed her, turning her around and pressing something sharp against her neck. It hovered, not quite piercing her skin, though, Sakura knew, nothing ever really would—the blood dried up after only a moment, abnormally quick. "Let's get this straight," he hissed in her ear. "I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone. I'll take up your offer, because I have a long while of travel, and not that much money. But if you do anything that I regard as suspicious, I will slit your throat, faster than you can say, 'help.' Understood?"

Sakura tried to nod and managed it, at a very awkward angle. He let her go, and slid the knife back into his pocket, where it had apparently been hidden before. He started to the house and she stared after him.

It may have been something of a stupid idea to offer such a man her house, Sakura knew. But she had said it and wouldn't back out. Hopefully, nothing she did would be regarded as suspicious in his eyes.

This thought was not for the sake of being scared for herself.

No, Sakura was scared for him.