Description: When/Why did Naruto start to like Sakura? An older Naruto reflects on his childhood.

Notes: Mmm.... well this started out as a one-shot centered around the question, "When/Why did Naruto start to like Sakura?" but has since then evolved. This fic sorta feeds off from the 180's in the manga, and then sorta becomes AUish. I've attempted to incorporate later plotline from the manga as the chapters come out, though I highly doubt what I have planned will be the same as Kishimoto-sama's conclusion to the arc. Also, the fic starts out in the future, but will mostly take place in the 'past' (relative manga present).

Also, this is a REPOST.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto characters. Kishimoto Masashi does though. I just claim credit for the ideas in this fic.

After All Else
Prologue
By: Sahfas

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A light, crisp breeze touched the trees with a soft caress, sending a flutter of leaves to the ground as the warmth from the afternoon sun shined its magnificent brightness across the land. The fall breeze rushed through the academy courtyard of Konoha, teasing the grass before sweeping up the fallen leaves to sway them in a casual dance around the lone figure. He stood with a nostalgic, calm posture as he faced the building before him, his hands deep within the pockets of his black slacks. He paid no mind to the slowly growing cold of the days, kept warm by the thick, mute green vest around his chest and the dark, long-sleeved shirt underneath it.

His current interest was on the aged, but still stable building that served as the classrooms for all the young shinobi in training, the place of his beginnings as a student himself, and a place he had forgotten so easily after he had become a Genin over six years ago. It brought a thin, if somewhat faint smile to his lips as he recalled all he had endured when he had first received the Genin rank. He had been so proud that day, thinking only about how he had passed and not realizing what becoming an official shinobi had meant.

With a huff of his breath, he sifted one hand through his thick, jagged hair before letting it trail to the nape of his neck where he half rubbed, half scratched at the area. His hair had been shorter then, and more manageable. Not that he disliked his current looks. With his hair draping over his ears and trailing ever so slightly down past his shoulders, many people had mentioned he had a striking resemblance to someone in particular, someone of high regard.

He liked it when people mentioned it to him. He saw in their eyes they regarded him differently with his current appearance. He was still treated the same as always, but everyone had a pondering look in their eyes when he caught their sight, as if something occurred to them. It was a nice change from the normal carping stares he received daily, though the number of which had decreased dramatically since his childhood.

The whining of stretching cord turned his attention to the side of the stone pathway and centered it on a distinguished, large and elderly tree that shaded much of the grass beneath it. Its broad, winding braches stretched out across the skyline, reaching for the touch of anything it could grasp. The tree itself was not what caught his notice, however, but what was attached to it. Two strands of rope wound around one of the lower branches a number of times to then drape towards the grass flooring. Knotted at the ends of both ropes was a simple plank of wood suspended perhaps two feet off the ground, free to sway in the day's breeze.

It appeared hardly used, as it had been in his childhood days, but the rope seemed to be fairly new, as if someone had replaced the worn cable sometime when he had been away. The breeze strengthened slightly, causing the overlooked toy to moan more, calling out to anyone to sit in its forgotten stool. His gaze rested on it a moment longer before he stepped closer and reaching a gloved hand out to grasp one of its wide cords. Its cry was silenced as the wind continued to toss the grass, tickling his exposed toes in a feather-light touch.

He ran his hand leisurely up and down the rope a few times before pausing to turn around and lower himself to its low perch. The rope groaned in bittersweet protest, his weight almost too much for the forgotten swing to handle. He sat for a moment, his thumbs loosely around the ropes, remembering the feel of the swing around him, holding him. Then, almost hesitantly, he gave a little push, and he rocked backwards before swinging forwards at a gentle pace. Each time he returned to a relatively vertical position, he replenished his speed, never becoming very fast paced as to not break the swing.

How long had it been since he last came near it? How long had it been since he last swung? The time could not be recalled as he continued to evenly push himself in the swing at a relaxed pace. And sitting on the swing of his youth after so many years of absence, he smiled.

It was his swing, he dare thought, and it had always been since his academy years. He had sat down in it one day during class break, and nobody ever went near it again, probably believing it was covered in his aura of failure and overall loser-hood. The swing had become his domain, the place where he had unwanted solitude among his classmates and where nobody bothered to talk to him save on the few rare occasions when a ball rolled his way. During his lunch sessions he ate there alone, too, though normally he had nothing to eat. The swing had been his escape from the teasing, but it had also served as his cage, separating him from those he sought attention and acceptance from.

Across the way the heavy doors of the academy creaked open, letting out the first short head of one red-headed child. He stopped his casual rocking to gaze over at his old school, watching as more children rushed out of the building in a flock, running out to catch up to a friend, an older sibling, and just to generally escape the classroom they had been cooped up in since that morning. Their excited laughter and chattering found its way to his ears, and he couldn't help but extend a smile to them.

They were the future, loudness and all, with their dreams that only children of their age could hope for and believe in. They knew nothing of the true evils of the world, and only feared the monsters that hid under their beds or their closets. Not one knew of the events that had happened nearly two decades earlier, or any of the battle that went on in their country a few years ago. And that was why they were the hope and joy of the future, because they would not have to suffer such hardships. Yet not one bothered to look his way, to offer him a smile or even a friendly wave on their trek home to their loving family.

A wry grin crossed his features. Yes, it truly was his swing. Even the children of that day paid no attention to it. Who wanted to swing on some stupid piece of wood when they could play ball or Ninja? So he had heard from some of the little tykes mention on a few occasions. What was in a 'stupid piece of wood'? Memories. Memories of his trials and pains of his years as a youth, of his lonely days during and after class, and of the day Mizuki-sensei had told him of the Scroll of Seals.

In some respects he owed his entire life to that man, for without him luring him to steal the large scroll, he would no doubt had never graduated with his class and gone on to experience all the influential events and people he had come across. He wouldn't be Uzumaki Naruto at all, just the 'nobody' of the village like he had been in his academy years.

He had to wonder just how his life would be different if he had never graduated when he did. Would his skills be anywhere near where they were today? Would he have ever met Konohamaru and helped the then young child to work hard, or would he still be taking shortcuts from the Closet Pervert? Would he have such a firm and rivaling companionship with Sasuke, or Kiba, Neji, and all the others? Would he be helping to teach the future generations every once and a while with his first crush, his teammate, his best friend, his....

Sakura.

She stood there in the doorway to the academy, holding it propped open as the younger students ran underneath her outstretched arms. He could see the pleased smile on her features even from his distance away, how her soft hair draped over her shoulders and cascaded down her back, and how her bright, emerald eyes were filled with pride and joy at her pupils.

Naruto changed position on the swing, one leg on either side of the plank, his feet planted evenly on the grass as his hands unconsciously sought the rope in front of him. Slouching ever so slightly, he took on a more predator-ial posture instinctively, his gaze intently fixated on her form. She was just as cheerful as ever, wearing that same warm smile that had drawn him to her in the first place, a smile that she hadn't gifted to him in their Genin years, but gradually lent him on occasion as they grew up.

She didn't know he still felt for her. He had hid his emotions as best he could, keeping only to the friendly playful air over the later years. He had known after a while she would probably never return his feelings, having been far too infatuated with Sasuke as a child to notice anyone else that was just as good for her, and in the recent days she was far too focused on her teaching to really pay attention to anyone that gave her a second glance. Naruto never let his emotions go, however, believing that perhaps some day she might realize just how much he cared, even if she didn't feel the same way in return.

As the last of her students left, Sakura's gaze followed after them, her smile still lingering, before she happened to notice the distant figure of Naruto sitting on the solitary swing in the courtyard. Their eyes locked on each other's for a good portion of a minute (or at least that's what it felt like to Naruto), just gazing at each other in silent question, before Sakura's neutral gaze turned brighter, her tender, welcoming smile lifting her features, directing it all towards him. Naruto, overtaken with the emotion in her smile, reflected it back.

Without a doubt the swing was Naruto's territory. It was where he had eaten and played alone, sat to think, and where his life changed dramatically after the incident with Mizuki-sensei. It was also the spot where, when after another tedious day in class was over one fateful evening, a simple smile had brightened his life. And he remembered it clearly.

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Post Notes: This original idea came to me in October of 2003. I wrote on and off on it, posted my first version in November, and have now gone through and rewritten bits of it that seem in need of change. The old prologue was longer because if contained part of chapter 1 in it. When I was rereading my pre-notes and ideas for this fic, I realized what I had written wasn't quite what I wanted. There was so much detail I left out that made the next section make sense, and the 'pov' I took with it severely limited what I could write and didn't allow what I had planned. So here is my crappy revised edition.

Special thanks to:

Jessika(Username: Autumn Xavier): For Beta-ing ::huggles:: You're wonderful.

Jun and Rain: For loving this fic before I even started writing it. XDD