AN: Hello everyone!

Just a little idea that hit me today at work as I stared out the window, and it won't leave me alone. So I wrote this hoping that it would get me unstuck with Chapter Thirteen of VINTA. No such luck. Oh well.

Unlike my other stories, the main focus of this won't be romance, though there will be hints here and there of some romantic feelings and such. I mostly want to focus on Sakura's interactions with the people around her. Also, there won't be an Inner Sakura in this story.

Summary: Day by day, she sits in that little café. Ever the silent observer, she watches people pass by, unaware of just how much she affects the lives of the people she meets. Sakura-centric, AU.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If I did... well.

Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter One

Day after day, she sits in front of the windows of the cafe, staring aimlessly out into the crowds passing by. She watches the people going about their busy lives, absently noting the tiny aspects of their day that inevitably leaks through their actions. That man, talking on the phone, has just received bad news. Someone has died. His expression struggles to remain passive, but eventually, it crumples. His hand, still holding the device to his ear, shakes, but there is no surprise on his face. Most likely, that person has succumbed to an illness. A slow, painful death.

That woman, with the white overcoat and fashionable boots, on the other hand, has had a fantastic day. The way she happily fiddles with the engagement ring on her finger belies the reason: she was recently proposed to, by someone she loves very much; it must have been just a few days ago. Her hand then drifts to her lower abdomen, caressing the slight bump that can be seen even through her coat. She was pregnant, then, but it had not been a marriage out of obligation. Rather, while the pregnancy had been unplanned, it was not unwanted, and the woman is overall, very happy with the way things have turned out.

Sakura's eyes then drift to the other faces in the crowd, drawing assumptions and just as quickly forgetting them, letting wave after wave of information wash through her mind. It was therapeutic, cleansing even.

Sometimes, those she observes feel her gaze, and they glance back at her, seeing the pretty, well-dressed girl with oddly coloured hair sitting in a café, head resting on her palm. Her eyes pierce through them, though, and they feel strangely as if they are being taken apart piece by piece, layer by layer, until they are laid bare before her. It makes them uncomfortable, and they avert their eyes and hurry on. Most times, though, they are oblivious to the silent observer, nestled away in that inconspicuous store. Too absorbed in their daily lives, they scurry ever on, stuck in a never-ending rat race. They take no notice of the girl, nor do they care for her. Her existence means nothing to them.

She rather thinks she prefers it that way.

However, she does not go unnoticed by those in the café. Least of all, by the five staff who regularly work there.

The owner is a man in his mid-twenties. He has spiky silver hair that defies gravity and leans in one direction, and only one visible eye – it is black. His other eye is covered by a medical patch, just barely visible behind the hair that flops down to cover it, as if it had been recently injured, but Sakura knows it is not. He has had that patch since she first visited the café, a year ago. The lower portion of his face is perpetually covered by something – a scarf, in winter, and other times, a simple black cloth mask, or a flu mask. Even if he did not wear them, though, Sakura doubts she'd ever catch a glimpse of his face, as his head is always buried in one of the books from the notorious Icha Icha series. His name is Kakashi.

The manager of the shop is also a man in his mid-twenties, albeit slightly younger than Kakashi himself. He has brown hair, spiked haphazardly, and dark, deep set eyes. He also has a penchant for carrying a torch around and using something that others call his 'Scary Face' whenever one of the staff is being particularly troublesome. Aside from that, he is polite and friendly, albeit often distant. He knows all the regular customers by name, and makes an effort to chat with them, though he is sensitive enough to sense when his company is desired and when it is not. He also takes care of the plants that are scattered over the café. His name is Yamato.

The resident barista is younger, maybe only a year or so older than Sakura, and is a young man with extremely pale skin, inky black eyes and jet black hair that hangs in his eyes. His thin lips are pulled into a perpetual smile, though it is cold and emotionless. His brews are excellent, and he always manages to find the perfect balances in whatever type of tea Sakura decides she wants to have that day. When the café is silent and he has spare time, he sits at a table near the counter and spreads scrolls across its surface. His ink paintings are beautiful. His name is Sai.

The pastry chef is rarely seen by Sakura, as he prefers to dwell in the kitchen. It is only when he is certain that only the regulars – a group in which Sakura is included – are present that he emerges. He looks strikingly similar to Sai, and is about the same age, though his complexion is more fair than pale, and his well-sculpted features make many girls swoon. However, Sakura is more interested in his culinary skills – his cakes are always flawlessly made and decorated, each slice a work of art and an explosion of taste. He takes extreme pride in his work, and insults to his creations do not bring about anything good. His name is Sasuke.

The cashier and occasional errand boy is also in the same age group as Sai and Sasuke, though he is their polar opposite in both looks and personality. He sports wild blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a sunny smile, and his demeanour is such that any customer that walks in feels at ease around him. He is an earnest worker, though he has the hardest time of them all adhering to Kakashi's rule – above all, the most important thing about The Café is that it permeates an aura of peace and happiness. Oftentimes, Yamato chides him for making a ruckus. His name is Naruto.

Despite their various differences, however, there is one thing that the five men have in common:

They find themselves constantly watching Her.

Sometimes, it's raining, and she watches the streams of water running down the pane with a faint smile. A sad smile, one that they find doesn't suit her. The rain, she had once confided in Kakashi, as he lounged next to her, eyes on his book, is both beautiful and unfailingly tragic to her. It never fails to make her nostalgic. He never asked what memories they made her remember, despite how much he wondered.

Sometimes, it's sunny, and the smile adorning her lips on those days is so beautiful it takes their breath away.

Sometimes, she's sad, and she enters the cafe with a slightly slower step, a touch more melancholy than usual. At those times, sadness is draped about her like a mantle, as she stares morosely out the window, almost enviously. They imagine that she envies the people she sees going about their lives, even those who are sad. It brings up the question of what her life is like, that she is even jealous of them. The questions burns in them, eager to be let out, but they never ask. Her eyes shine a little more than usual, but no one brings it up.

On those days, Kakashi looks up from his book, gives Yamato a subtle nod, and the three youngest are put to work.

Sai begins to pick tea leaves, dried fruit, and other ingredients, adding precisely measured amounts of each into a pot, brewing a concoction whose preparation requires intense focus and intricate detail. Sasuke quickly removes a light sponge cake from the oven, expertly slicing and decorating it, tweaking its taste using flavoured cream and icing and fruits, so that it goes along superbly with the concoction that Sai creates. Naruto brings out the delicate china that she favours so, and sets it out, ready to be used. Yamato takes over the manning of the cash register.

Finally, they set down a pot of her favourite tea, a slice of her favourite cake, and Naruto's sunny smile before her, and it lifts her spirits, just a bit. But it is enough. She smiles at each of them in turn, gratitude plain on her face, though her sadness is still there, in those beautiful emerald eyes, in the weak upturn of her lips.

Today is one such day.

Surrounded by her favourite food, drink, and with pleasant company, their efforts barely manage to dent the surface of her melancholy. However, it is the fact that they tried, that they care, that warms her heart, and though her smile is weak, it is genuine.

She dwells in that little world, the funny, cosy little cafe that sits along a busy street, sandwiched between a music store and one that sells sporting equipment, as long as she dares, until she can no longer ignore the glaring hands of her elegant, extremely expensive watch; it is time for her to return.

So she swirls the last of her tea in the delicate porcelain cup, downs it in one go, and sets the cup down with a soft clink, that somehow manages to ring with finality.

She stands, and leaves the cafe, not bothering to look back. With or without her, that cafe, that tiny little world, would move on, and she is well aware that her presence is nothing more than a whisper of a breeze - fleeting, largely unfelt, insignificant. She, who is cast in the role of a silent observer, does not bring about any change at all. She does not draw attention to herself, neither does she desire to. As always, that world would continue as it has for years, unaffected by her.

Little does she know.

AN2: Voila! Just a little bit of introduction and such. Truthfully, I don't know if I will continue this or not, so I suppose it partly depends on the response as well. So, please review!

XOXO

Ice