Edited and reposted 21 Feb 2011.

I must be absolutely mad to start a new chaptered story. Ah well. Do enjoy this product of my current lapse in judgement ((cringes)) and please don't be too surprised if the next update takes longer than you think.

This story was originally written because a) I had to make up for that lousy attempt I did of SasuSaku and b) a plot bunny just happened by. A big whopping thank you to my beta for giving this chapter a once-over and helping me work out the tougher kinks of the plot.

On an unrelated note, auto story edits are off. Gah.

Don't forget to review, or the Review Monster will go on a hunger rampage and eat Neville Longbottom, and Chuck Norris will have to come and punish you for it.

She remembers the first time she sees him when she was old enough to remember and just mature enough for appearances to really begin to matter. She can't recall how old – or rather, young – she was, but she definitely remembers her first impression, the one which really mattered.

(He was the prettiest boy she had ever seen.)

Of course, back then, she didn't really have anyone else to compare him to, but even then she could see the chiselled features he was only just beginning to grow into, and the cold, black, mysterious depths she supposed were his eyes. When he had passed a careless glance around him and she felt those eyes blanket her with something that made her flush warmly, she knew she was done for.

It had been obvious to her, however, that she hadn't been the only one who fell helplessly deeply into those eyes and for their owner. In the mind of a six-year-old, it was bad enough that she had to be attracted to someone who drew others to him like wolves to unsuspecting lambs, but having her best friend as a rival – her taller, prettier, more outgoing best friend – was quite possibly almost Hell.

(With hair a very soft yellow and eyes which shone an intelligent periwinkle, she was most definitely no match. Her own hair was a very unflattering, almost garish pink, and her eyes were a little too bright, and that darn forehead...)

But she had been determined. So she said that she wanted to follow in her father's footsteps, and her parents, proudly cooing over just how mature their baby girl had become, finally having a real ambition and no more of that 'dancing' nonsense, gladly enrolled her in a private institute whose alumni all went to become government officials wielding great influence.

At least, she recalls, that was her excuse. That way, her parents had been beyond pleased, and Sasuke, younger brother of the crown prince, had grown closer to her reach.

Among all the girls who had enrolled that year – it hadn't exactly been hard to deduce that a certain member of the royalty was involved behind many of their intentions – Sakura knew she was very probably not only the most diligent, but the cleverest student as well. It showed in her teachers' glowing praises to her parents, congratulating them on having raised such a brilliant child, and not the small number of glares she received from fellow females that year.

In class, she answered questions, both verbally and on paper, confidently and succinctly. When it came to practicals, simulated situations where students had to handle accordingly or lose marks, she was always the perfect diplomat – subtle, assuring, and, pouring charisma out in waves, she knew exactly how to steer a conversation. The only student who had any chance of competing with her was the quiet Hyuuga who sat close to the back of the classroom, but she was too shy and often relenting, the two traits which would eventually be the downfall of someone choosing this particular career path.

Sakura knew she was good at this. It might be that she excelled because she often observed her father, or that it was an inherent talent, or even because she knew she was good, but she understood that, if she wanted to, she could make it even into the emperor's inner court.

It was exactly why that upon graduation, it was announced that she had been the one to be offered an internship in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. She would have been a doomed fool to have ignored it, she thought, so she accepted it, euphoric and jumping for joy – figuratively, of course – and all-too-happily ignored the female half of her class, some of whom had actually burst into uncontrollable tears and some whom had even fainted.

Sakura, smiling as she gracefully received her graduation certificate, rather smugly thought that Sasuke was as good as taken.

Oh, the arrogance of youth, she sighs. What a vulnerable luxury to have.

She wonders what it was that made her so confident so as to give satisfaction to that kind of selfish thought. (Technically, anything could have happened. Securing valedictorian and awarded an admittedly somewhat unpromising, career-wise, internship did not mean automatic ownership of Sasuke, which was what she had wanted.)

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how one viewed the situation, Sakura supposes lightly – she had eventually learned her lesson on humility.

When her superior hadn't been able to make it to the emperor's New Year celebration and told her to go instead, Sakura could have collapsed in utter joy. The annual function was held outside of the palace, in the front courtyard, where it was large enough to house hundreds upon hundreds of stalls. Someone from the crowd would be randomly selected to give a short speech about their hopes for the year, followed by the shooting of fireworks. But the real event, as far as Sakura was concerned, was the grand entrance the emperor and his family made at the climax of the light show, all glittering and regal, to the great applause of the crowd.

The emperor walked out gracefully into everyone's shouting and cheering, his wife a beautiful adornment on his arm. The hubbub slowly ceased as he raised his other arm to address the crowd, and Sakura stopped nibbling at her rice cake, instead focusing on the front of the courtyard. She watched as he gave a few eloquent words of prayer and thanks, and then again raised his arm to welcome his heir apparent, Sasuke's brother.

There was an almost-deafening cry of adoration from half of the female audience, and Sakura could understand why. Even standing from as far as she was, she could see the striking resemblance to Sasuke – well, one would technically say that Sasuke resembled him, what with Itachi being the eldest, but oh, who cared – and they had the same masculine beauty and grace, but nobody could mistake one for the other. It was just the colder quality Itachi possessed, which was also already making some question and even fear his coming reign. Shivering a little, Sakura rather consolingly told herself that she could never fall for someone so – dare she say it – terrifying.

It was then that Itachi gave a funny little smile, and grandly waved his arm to the side.

Any minute now, Sakura's mind whispered tantalizingly, and she felt herself tightening with anticipation.

There was another small procession, and who else would follow but–

She remembers this part well, almost as clearly as what comes next, and she still feels the embarrassment that often comes with looking back at the actions of a much younger, immature self.

She reasons that it's probably a good thing that she's able to feel embarrassed at all.

She vaguely felt herself breathe his name, vaguely felt her hand loosen and vaguely sensed the rice cake drop to the ground. He was as beautiful as always, and she would know because she followed him in the media whenever possible. Sakura congratulated herself for choosing that exact spot – it had an excellent view.

She yelled her exhilaration at finally, finally being able to see him again. Of course, her shout was lost among many others – especially those of the other female half who'd attended the celebration. A slight feeling of irritation twinged her chest, but she ignored it. After all, Sasuke was right there.

The emperor raised his hand, silencing everyone. Sakura didn't like the smile he was wearing. It looked just short of being sly. He was saying something, but Sakura paid more attention to Sasuke. Sasuke, Sasuke... His name was like honey on her lips, and she couldn't get enough of it. She idly wondered if he remembered her from their classes together at the academy.

Then yet another small procession slowly marched out. More than surprised, Sakura asked the vendor behind her who else was coming out. The vendor, equally wide-eyed as everyone else, told her that the emperor had said there was someone special to be introduced tonight.

So Sakura turned back to the front and watched curiously.

And then her mouth opened, expecting a gasp, and her hand flew to her lips, but she was too shocked to make a single sound.

Sakura remembers thinking that a person to be introduced by the emperor himself had to be important – in royalty, at least equal to a duke.

The woman entering after the procession had worn one of the most beautifully-made kimono young Sakura had ever seen. She remembers the way everyone had stared, open-mouthed, at the strange beauty, too slack-jawed to ask among themselves who she'd been.

Of course, she had known. She's sure that she'll always remember that flaxen hair, elegantly twisted around two golden pins. She knows she'll never forget the smile complimenting that particular lovely face.

Ino.

That one name alone ripped open old guilts, dredged up old memories, and at that moment her emotions tore her apart seven ways. But a single thought halted everything else – what was Ino doing there?

"Sasuke," said the emperor, looking quite fatherly, "You may have the honour of acquainting our subjects to your fiancée."

Her mind continued to spin, and her heart continued to scream, but it didn't matter because right then her world was falling apart.