After a week of depression, thank heavens my mind had decided to write something light and fluffy…

Presume that the characters are 8 years old.

Disclaimer: Yukina owns the plot, but never the characters.

AT FIRST SIGHT

The beautiful pain of what they called first love in my soul.

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People have always told me that I was the type of boy who was to be called handsome…cute…or even an eye-catcher. My mother had always told me that the image in her dear locket was none other than the younger version of me. But nowadays, whenever I look in the mirror, I always wonder how the time flies by so fast as to even alter the way I look – or rather, looked like a few years ago.

Come to think of it, what my parents and best friends said about me may be true, considering that I wasn't just an ordinary boy back then.

Why, I couldn't forget that one time, in a festival, when I was chosen as an escort to a young girl that would be the cause of my earliest heart problems. But nevertheless, it couldn't be denied that I liked the thought (or rather memory) of her, despite the noisy trudging of my playmates behind me, and even the tiniest hints of tease that they whisper (call it a whisper, but I could clearly hear them from where I was walking.)

The day that my eyes first beheld her sight was when I was going on about my business as a mischievous little boy. I recalled having playmates around me running around, trying to catch me and get the handkerchief that would determine my victory or loss in that particular game. I don't exactly remember how all things came to be, but one thing is for sure: that time when I was frantically running around the park in circles, I accidentally bumped with a petite girl, the same age as me.

I couldn't forget how the feeling of the bruise on my hips throbbed when I stumbled back at the force of the impact. I couldn't forget how the feeling of Kiba's swift, little hands came by and swept the handkerchief away.

But you know what is the most unforgettable of all?

It was the sound of a sweet, young voice echoing in my ears, as a petite hand was extended towards me, trying to help me stand up on my two feet. As the grey fog around my sight dissipated away, I found myself staring right onto lavender orbs – the prettiest shade of lavender I have ever seen.

"I-I'm sorry…" she stuttered. "A-are you all right?"

Lavender eyes…short, dark blue hair…complexion as smooth as porcelain.

Surely I didn't die at that time, did I? If so, then why did an angel appear?

Quickly, ever so quickly, I stood up, then rigorously dusting off whatever dust had accumulated on my orange shorts. I shook my head, hoping that she would understand, for no matter how much I tried, heaven knew that my voice was nowhere to be heard. But, my oh my, did my eyes not waver from hers. She must have realized, for the next thing I saw was a hint of pink on her fair cheeks before she bowed and walked the opposite direction.

She must be new in town, I thought. For I have never seen her before. When I came to my senses, she was nowhere to be seen.

My friends called my attention back then, and so I went with them, feeling confusingly light and heavy, vain and foolish, with the beautiful pain of what they called first love in my soul.

The next day, fate had granted me a great opportunity for when I was walking in the same park, I saw her yet again, this time she was with companions I guessed were the same age as us. Without knowing what I was doing, I was following them with lithe steps, just a couple of feet away so that she would not notice me. However, she looked back instinctively. I turned away, hailing an imaginary friend across the street. But I saw that out of the corner of my eye that she did in fact recognize me.

How I knew?

She giggled at the sight of my frantic calling to my "friend", before she whispered something to her companions. True enough, they looked at me with amused eyes, before joining in the laughter. My heart pounded against my breast.

They walked on ahead, sitting on a bench underneath the Cherry blossom tree. I followed, sitting on the bench just behind them. Several times I tried on saying something – something that would not cause her to avoid me, or see me as a threat. But no matter how much I tried, no words would come out.

I hoped that something would happen. I prayed. Something would happen that would cause her to notice me. Like me falling back onto the bench, and be revived by her soft, worried voice. Or me being hit by a baseball and I would groan and wince in pain, and she would take pity upon me and wipe the blood away from my face.

Fate knew that none of these fantasies happened.

However, if there was one thing that it did, it was to show me where her dwelling place was.

It was one time when I was out on the streets trying to look for my friends who had called me. And suddenly, amidst the crowd of the noonday, there it was again: the shade of dark blue, and that petite body. By instinct I reacted, following…combing the crowd…wanting to call out to her, to no avail for she never heard. At the end of the street, I saw her walking away in a leisurely manner. But before I could overtake her, she turned in the corner and entered the huge gate of the first house.

And from that moment on, whenever I was out strolling, I had made it a habit to walk past the premises, feeling and enjoying the warmth and soft and light and tender emotion towards everything I held and touched and walked on.

Towards the end of the month, I was suddenly chosen to be an escort for someone during the upcoming fireworks festival.

"You fool." My mother gently, but amusedly reprimanded. "Your partner is beautiful."

"Who?" I asked sulkily.

"Hinata. She is the daughter of the newcomer in the village."

"I don't care." I grunted the sulky mood for being chosen still lingering in me.

In that very evening, I found myself to be all dressed with a dark blue hakama prepared especially for the occasion. It was a good piece of clothing that my parents remarked I was a miniature imitation of the early royalties in the village. A white line across the breast and a white cloth of a belt were about the only regal touches in my attire.

Presently, my parents led me to the house of my supposed to be partner. So preoccupied I was with my sulking that I didn't even notice where they were leading me. Before I knew it, I was in front of the gates of a house I so remember with all my heart.

"Hinata," My father called laughingly. "Thy king awaits thy majesty."

And just like that, the angel that so predominantly presided in my dreams erstwhile came down, dressed in a pink yukata, a band of cherry blossom leaves adorning the cloth. When I saw her, I thought that I wasn't breathing anymore, for my heart was pounding loudly in my chest. She saw me and suddenly grew red…then pale…then red again. When a faint smile caressed her little lips at last, all the colours I saw in the rainbow fell down upon the earth, weaving a magic carpet for her tiny feet to tread upon.

In the procession I was so self – conscious that I thought I would swoon. My footsteps were new and strange to me. I felt so light that I thought I was walking on clouds. There were a thousand buzzing in my ears. Then, I heard distinctively familiar voices: the voices of my friends calling my name and my partner's name while making a sound that would always bring a fair colour to my tan cheeks.

In the morning, there was a long, red blister across my forehead. But I was so happy and lightheaded that I actually was grateful for the blister.

I wish I could tell you how when the school opened, I found Hinata in the same class as me and how I began to wear my first long pants, and I how I wrote my first love letter.

But that is another story.

Yukina appreciates your taking a few minutes of your time to read her story.

Kami no gokago ga arimasu youni.