PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND, THANK YOU.

Rating: Rated M for language, mild violence and lemons.

Pairings: SasuSaku, NaruHina, NejiTen, ShikaTema, SaiIno

Author note: Danish is my native language, which is why my English is not perfect. If you notice any embarrassing mistakes please let me know.

Author note two: I am not a genius when it comes to school systems around the world, so the school system may be weird – like a combination of American, Japanese and Danish school system. But overall the high school in this fanfiction consists of three years, where Sakura attends the new school the second year at an age of 17. The school year begins in August and ends in June.

Author note three: It is a none Uchiha massacre story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Chapter 1. Responsibilities

SAKURA: SUNDAY EVENING

Being the smart girl was easy. Ignoring the distant whisper and sometimes the cruel shouting was easy. Being alone was surprisingly easy as well. And being unnoticed used to be so damn easy too.

The shame I, Sakura Haruno, was feeling deep in my heart probably made me look guilty as hell. I couldn't stop feeling that people stared at my back or turned their heads when I walked passed them, like my inner feelings of shame, guilt, and disaster was written all over my face, even though I technically only knew one blond knucklehead in this town, Konoha, and then of course my loving Grandma, which I am living with. A knucklehead I had purposely avoided the last two months since I moved to Konoha, which I indeed still did.

The mere thought made me raise the hood on my black baggy sweater over the already pitch-black cap and headphones I was wearing as I walked down the street. It may have looked very wrong of a young 17 years old girl, but being unnoticed was the number one priority, because being alone was the easy solution. It had always been the easy solution.

I came to a stop and looked one of my fears death on: The entrance of Konoha's very own Private High School. I felt every nerve twitch unpleasantly, my inner guts told me to fucking run for it and yet all my brain thought was: 'I am so not ready for this' when my feet suddenly crossed the road and walked straight to what made me feel like would become a living hell. Because what could possibly be different? Communication and socialisation had always been a living awkwardly hell for me.

I stared blankly at the school building. I honestly didn't know what the hell I was doing. Like seeing a building would make it any easier to walk inside it tomorrow? Guess I wasn't as smart as I liked to think – it seemed like the stupidest idea ever. 'So, what is your next move now, huh genius?' I didn't know. I didn't know anything. I placed myself up against an old chain link fence at the end of a shabby basketball track, turned up the volume of my music and closed my eyes – trying to think about nothing. But I knew it was hopeless as my thoughts already began wandering.

The memory was still clear as a cloudless sky, the light was still brightening as the sun on a warm summer day, the smell of smoke, burned rubber, warm asphalt, blood and gasoline still too familiar, and the sound of the clash was as loud as the damn music I was listening to.

It was hopeless to forget the brightening light coming towards me; hopeless to forget how my breath automatically caught in my throat, so it was completely impossible and painful to breathe in the next one; hopeless to forget how slow the brightening light came directly towards me, yet everything happened so fast; hopeless to forget the panic attack I got in mere seconds that made me lose all rational thinking; hopeless to forget my mother's last scream and my father yelling my name for the last time; hopeless to forget how my foot slammed the brakes at the same time my father reached and turned the steering wheel – the formula of pure disaster; hopeless to forget how my body slammed into the side of the car door at the impact of the other car; impossible to forget how I blacked out and awakened, with the feeling of incredible pain, upside down in the car being hold up by the seatbelt, only capable of hearing a loud sharp and unpleasant tone, smelling smoke, gasoline, blood, burned rubber and warm brakes, and only seeing blood, broken glass and my parents hanging lifeless from their seatbelts. Impossible to forget how my brain wanted my mouth to scream and sobbing at the same time but nothing happened. It is both impossible and hopeless to forget how paralyzed I was at seeing death mere inches from me.

SASUKE

As much as I didn't want to admit it, it was unendurably true. I, Sasuke Uchiha, was running away from my responsibilities at this very moment. Something I would never in my entire life admit to anyone than myself. I grasped harder around the steering wheel of my modified pitch-black Chevrolet Camaro SS as I drove as far away from the Uchiha mansion as possible. As far away from my father. And my brother. Shame and guilt hit me like a bullet of the thought of them; I would probably always be a failure in my father's eyes. I was a coward this very moment fleeing from my father's acknowledgement but the pressure was practically tearing me apart inside out. Like hell I was going to save the entire world and maintain the stability of the city as head of the Police Department, at an age of 17! No. Fucking. Way. What happened to decide for myself?

When I reached the high school of Konoha I slammed the brakes and parked aggressively in the empty parking lot. I grabbed the basketball on the passenger seat which the dobe had intentionally left behind a few days ago giving me no excuses for not training. I had to use my energy. To release the pressure – the anger – without ruining and crashing my car. 'Not that it actually matters' I thought, my family was rich as hell, I could just purchase a new one.

When I reached the basketball track I halted in my firm track when my eyes felt upon a dark shadow and the sound of low music or rather violent beats. My eyes narrowed at the sight. It was a girl. 'What the hell was a girl doing here at this time?' The next thing I heard was my own voice saying "Hey," out loud, but meeting no response at all. 'Annoying' and before I knew it I slammed the basketball into the fence she sat against.

Her whole body jolted and her hands flew up to cover her face but instead knocked cap, headphones, and the sweatshirt-hoodie of her head. Long beautiful faded pink strands of hair came visible, and it took me a moment to get a hold on my firm composure. The colour somehow seemed familiar yet I couldn't pinpoint from where or what, only that it looked natural on her on a very unnatural way that somehow made her whole appearance special.

At first, she looked frightened like being caught, yet it changed immediately when she saw me, and she actually looked relieved. I couldn't help but smirk at her reaction, but when she didn't say anything for what seemed like minutes it became awkwardly unpleasant – especially since I was used to having girls practically scream around me – and I raised a challenging eyebrow at her. And it worked, like reading her as an open book.

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed.

"Who are you hiding from?" I asked casually and the words made her stiffen. She had a shocked expression for a moment before she narrowed her eyes at me and answered: "I'm not hiding."

"So why are you wearing all black, covering your face?" I couldn't help but point lazily at her petty form. She opened her mouth but nothing came out until she sighed, probably accepting defeat. I couldn't help but smirk.

Something about her triggered me though. She may be readable as an open book but something told me that there were more to her than what the eyes could see. And she didn't scream and gawk clingingly at me as most girls did. She was being … pleasantly normal. Which was a rarity for me to be met with. So, when she was about to move to get up I couldn't help myself from striding towards her and sitting down next to her: "Hiding from responsibilities perhaps?" I heard myself ask knowing all too well why.

Her movement stopped at my remark and she remained sitting at the ground, looking surprised at me with big emerald eyes. And I stared at her. I had never seen an eye colour that joyful. So full of life; like the first warm spring day of the year. Yet those eyes seemed swollen from crying; lost from any giving life purpose. I felt like I saw it all in her eyes as we stared at each other for a couple of seconds – yet I couldn't see anything at all. And that made me curious as hell. Everything about her seemed curious.

"Do you have a reason for hearing that type of music?" I suddenly heard myself ask her. Like not talking was the most uncomfortable thing on earth, which was weird because I appreciated silence more than anything.

"What type?" 'How annoying' I thought.

"You know; loud music without lyrics."

"Why is that even important?" she replied and looked at me with a suspicious expression.

"It's not," I said bluntly. "You just don't seem like that type." I sounded like I didn't even care but I knew better.

I could see that she thought about her answer – or if she even should give me an answer at all – and when she did I was taken aback from her honesty: "Before… I didn't…" she stopped herself and sighed before she continued: "All those studies and analyses says that you find comfort in listening to sad music while being sad and vice versa. But I guess that I'm the exception. While listening to this music," she pointed at the headphones now laying in her lap "It is easier to think about nothing."

This only made my curiosity peak even more. 'Who is this girl? Why haven't I ever seen her before? What has happened to her? Why is she so … different?' All I could think about was what she possibly wouldn't want to think of, and this raised a lot of questions: "What changed?" I started asking, knowing I had to break the ice before asking anything detailed about this nothing-topic.

"Everything." She stated cold hearted and I knew at that moment that I wouldn't be able break that damn ice.

Yet she continued after a while: "Music used to be my whole life. I think it is fascinating that you can express yourself so much with so little words – or just with a simple melody."

This girl was sure annoying: 'So what changed for God sake?!' but I figured she wouldn't open up and say that to a complete stranger after she had avoided the question the first time. And my assumption was right when she suddenly made movements and stood up from the ground. She looked at me for a while before stating worthlessly: "I have to get home," turning around and starting walking towards the parking lot.

I was yet again taken aback at how uninterested she seemed – or she at least covered it as a champion. 'She is so different' I thought for the perhaps third time this evening. I got myself up, grabbed the ball I had brought and strode after her several meters behind. I was surprised when I saw her stopping at my car and seeming to admire it.

"You like American muscles?" she asked more vivacious than any other thing she had yet said to me.

"It is different," I replied, 'just like you' my thought would have added.

"Supercharged huh?" she remarked "Perhaps a V8?"

'What. The. Fuck' my mind was blown away. She was definitely different. Girls didn't care about cars or engines, hell most girls didn't even care about what music said as long the beat was good. This actually applied for almost every person but I ignored my own belated wisdom.

I ignored her question and answered her with one of my own: "You are interested in cars?"

"Well my dad was. He thought me everything about cars and he taught me to drive as well," she flinched at her own words, as she had unintentionally over spoked. Before I had any chance to reply she abruptly spoke again: "I really have to go now." And she began to slightly run away from the school's estate.

"At least tell me your name," I called after her.

She stopped and turned around, slowly walking backwards. She gave me a hint of a smile for the first time that evening before answering: "Sakura."

"Hn." I smirked. Different was a good thing, I finally decided.