This is my new story! This will be updated WEEKLY on SATURDAY. So yes, this Saturday will be the next update and then every Saturday from there it will be updated. I would also like to thank my wonderful Beta and friend HomeSkillitBiscuit.93 for Beta-ing yet ANOTHER story of mine. Check out some of her other stories such as Taste Of Your Own Medicine.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or the characters, just the story idea.

Italics are flashbacks.

"Sakura-chan, this is for you." Holding out a white kanzashi*, the three white flowers were surrounded by glistening pearls. Her emerald eyes went wide with excitement.

"Tou-san, thank you!" Jumping into the large arms of her father, she was held in his tight embrace. A rare laugh escaped his mouth, causing her to smile.

"It is white and pure, like you. Take care of it, Sakura." His words were rigid, but his tone was light compared to his usually strong-willed persona. She nodded and took it in her small hands, clasping it. Protecting it.

"I will, Tou-san! I promise!"

A distinct white shone in the rose colored locks of the seventeen year old girl, her eyes set before her reflection. Long locks of pink silhouetted past her shoulder blades, settling just past the middle of her back. The flowered kanzashi shone on her head, lifting some of her hair from her face while some slipped and settled by her chin. A small sigh arose from her chest, dispersing into the air and leaving nothing but a reminisce of it's presence.

Today seemed rather off, she noted glumly.

Smoothing out a small wrinkle in her green and gold yukata*, she lifted herself from her sitting position and moved to the sliding door leading to the back of the house. The day was frigid and a small draft was making it's way into her domain, causing her to shiver.

It began like any other day, the normal awakening at ungodly hours, gathering her bearings and then making her way to teachings. All of which were meaningless to her―she learned to sew, to clean, to arrange flowers, and to provide for a husband—a husband she doesn't have. Grunting, thoughts filled her conscious as she blew a hair from her view, her temper flaring once more. The topic was always a sore spot for her.

"You should be married by now, Sakura," her father's voice cut through her, "but you're too damn stubborn. No man will look at you if you can't do simple things such as sewing without throwing a complaint."

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she bit away the bitter taste in her mouth. He was scolding her again.

"If you keep doing that, you're eyes will stay that way," his voice began to fade, "and that would be unattractive, Sakura."

The memory left a sour taste in her mouth. Her father always knew how to make her tick, sending her into a flurry of unladylike gestures and phrases that usually resulted in a whipping from her mother's end. Shaking her head, she knew it was her mother that she had developed those particular acts of punctuality, (or lack there of), especially when she let her anger surface. As the thought lingered, it moved to her mother and father and their marriage. As a kid, they seemed happy and content with their lives. Although, as Sakura grew up, she noticed the closeness the two developed. Even though they never came out and told one another how they felt, Sakura could tell it was there. Subtle antics and phrases her parents would do and say that always hinted to her that her parents did indeed love each other, despite being an arranged marriage. As she thought about herself in her mother's shoes, she shivered.

It wasn't that she hated men. She just didn't want to serve one the rest of her life. She never understood the role of a woman. It never seemed to suit her personality. Looking at her mother, she knew her to be calm and wise, a pure Japanese woman at heart. In comparison, Sakura was nothing close to her stature. She was petite and couldn't fend for herself. She definitely looked incompetent and bearing children seemed out of the question for someone as frail looking as her. Sighing, she let her eyes settle on the screen before her.

A manicured nail traced a small cherry blossom painted onto the paper walls of her room. The dried shade of pink touched her smooth skin, sending a small chill down her spine.

It was such a childish thing to have in your room. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to have it changed. She didn't know how to voice the idea.

She chuckled to herself. The one girl who spoke her mind couldn't bring herself to say that flowers on her wall were childish and slightly demeaning. Smiling inwardly, she knew she was being foolish. But, the work put into her room was something she would have refused, had she known it was being done. Nothing has changed since birth and, in a way, she didn't really mind. She never liked too much change. The idea of feeling foreign made her uncomfortable.

Opening the sliding door, sun leaked into her room as she squinted. A small garden entered her view as a growing cherry blossom tree stood tall, small buds on the tips of it's branches.

She had always loved the tree. She loved everything it symbolized; all of its potential. She swore to herself it was the only Sakura tree that never truly bloomed to its promising nature. In fact, it was the only Sakura tree that bloomed on one side, while the other lay dormant and unresponsive. She would always remember going outside on a spring morning, only to see the Sakura tree's fragile branches swaying in the wind. Her father had suggested getting it uprooted, but her mother would respond to his grunt with a 'just look at it from the other side' comment. He never could win an argument with her wise Kaa-san. The thought made her lips pull into a satisfied grin.

No matter how she denied it, she always took her father's words to heart. She hated disappointing people, especially her Tou-san. He was the essence of power and pacification. His strict morals were a code of law not only to himself, but to his whole family. Despite his peaceful nature, he knew what to say and do in order to gain the upper hand. He was sneaky that way.

Closing the door behind her, she positioned her body on the veranda, her feet tucked under her legs in a formal matter. The manners glued into her brain were always in the forefront. She never had a problem learning things, it was applying them. Her fiery temper and lack of patience kept her from accomplishing many things taught to her. As she sat and stared at the garden in front of her, ignoring the vibrations being sent through the wood of her home.

"Something happens and they all come running," she spoke to herself, "and Tou-san is stuck listening to them rant."

Tucking a strand of silky hair behind her ear, her ears perked as the vibrations halted. She was surprised as the slamming of the paper door behind her caused her to jolt. Turning around, her face clearly demonstrated her frustration. It quickly died as the emotions seen on the men before her caused her heart to skip a beat.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Milady, your father," he panted, his voice changing in volume."He ran into trouble coming home from Nagoya! He― He's been killed!"

A bloodied body fell from her father's hands, his large, calloused fingers enveloped in the red liquid. His breaths were shallow as he looked at the paled face of his kin. Taking a step behind the paper wall, she couldn't remove her childish eyes from the gruesome sight of it all. Blood was much thicker than she had originally thought. It flowed from her grandfather's body with ease, which surprised her. It was disgusting and fascinating to her all at once.

"Hotaru!" the panicked voice of her father called. "Get Sakura away from here!"

She didn't fully register his words until a familiar hand tugged at her small frame, causing her to lurch in the opposite direction her body was facing. Looking up, she was met with her mother's sapphire hues. The frightened and hasty look in her eyes silenced any opposition in the small child as she followed her mother from the room, the sight of her dead relative etched into her subconscious.

The moistness of her hands made gripping her yukata difficult. Her speed was inhibited as her legs forced themselves to move faster against the restricting fabric. Thoughts scrambled her thinking as her eyesight began to play tricks on her. Making sharp turns, she tried to follow the men before her as they led her to the front of the house. She knew her home like the back of her hand and yet, as it was now, she couldn't remember for the life of her where she was or even how to get around. Her mind was blank—she didn't know how to think.

"Sakura!" Her mother's voice rang through her ears, a tear-stricken woman making her way towards her. Observing her, she looked distraught as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. She had always thought her mother was beautiful. Even now she held a beauty about her that calmed Sakura's rapidly beating heart.

Greeting her mother with a fierce hug, she felt tears of her own forming and stinging the corner of her viridian orbs.

Pushing a stray tear from her face, a small smile formed on her father's lips.

"Crying makes you look weak, Sakura," he nudged her with his elbow. "Be strong, little one."

Crying makes you look weak.

Crying makes you look weak.

A minuscule cough came from her throat as the tears receded and the hold she held her mother in became tighter. Letting go shortly after, she looked at her mom, as they stood on the same level as one another. Bracing her shoulders, an unspoken agreement was settled between the two as her mother wiped away the salty liquid from her pink cheeks.

Turning around, she was greeted with the sight of a figure laying on the floor near the entry way of her home. Time slowed as she eyed the mass on the floor, the stained kimono no longer stopping the blood from staining the wood. Her mouth went dry as she recognized the red hair of her father. Bending over, a wetness soaked her own clothes, but her attention was too far gone to notice. Moving a strand of hair from his face, she noted the petrified look on her father's face. She looked away from him, clasping her hand over her mouth, hoping to suppress the cry in her throat. With a heavy heart, she reached out her hand and touched his cold skin. Placing two fingers on his eyelids, she shut them, masking his green eyes forever.

A numbness came over her as questions flooded her mind. How? Who would do this to her Tou-san―a pacifist looking for peace? Have they no shame? Clenching her fists, she bundled the soaked fabric in her fingers as her father's blood stained her hands crimson. A hard look crossed her usually serene face.

"Who did this?" she looked to the men that usually guard her father, "How did this happen!"

She wanted answers. And she wanted them now. A nervousness came about the men as they exchanged looks. It was only now that Sakura noticed they were both injured, though alive. It was apparent that her father was targeted. Shame crossed their faces as Sakura stood upright, setting her jaw in place.

"We were ambushed," one of the men stated meekly. The other nodded quickly in agreement.

"It happened so quick, we didn't realize what occurred until it was too late," the man speaking fell to his knees as the other followed suite, both shaking and looking at the floor. "We're so sorry, Sakura-san!"

Sakura's eyebrows stitched together in thought. They bent before her as though she were going to hurt them. No, her father taught her better than that. Looking to her mother, she knew they would have to answer to her as well. But, being the state she is in, it was Sakura's decision to speak. Perhaps they figured they could get away with a less harsh punishment from the calmer of the two women. However, she scratched that thought, knowing that both men knew Sakura inherited a temper far worse than her mother's. Who knows what the two men before her were thinking. Composing herself, she cleared her throat, the tears slowly drying as she tried to stay strong.

"You're not going to be punished. Please stand." Her words came off as bitter, even to her own ears. Shock was evident between the two, but they did as they were told. Standing with their heads down, she eyed the both of them. A sinking feeling was making it harder for her to breath. These men couldn't save her father. They couldn't protect him. A man that was always there in their time of need was shunned when it was his time. She only wished her father didn't bring her up in this way—to be so defenseless. She felt pitiful.

Unable to look at the men any longer, she turned, the end of her yukata following her. She could feel a dampness on her legs, which she determined was her own father's blood drying on her skin. It felt tight as she turned a corner in her home, making her way towards the bath house.

Walking inside and closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against the wooden frame and sunk to the floor. Curling into a ball, she felt hot tears pass her cheeks, leaving scars of a broken girl on her porcelain skin.

It wasn't until a knock on the door that Sakura realized she had fallen asleep on the floor of the bathroom. Startled from her sleep, she looked around, only to hear a voice on the other side of the door.

"Sakura-san? Are you alright? I have clothes for you, Milady."

Recognizing the voice, she stood and opened the door quickly. A shocked expression crossed the middle aged woman's face as her eyes looked over the teen. She grew mute as she handed her a bundle of clothing and a towel.

"Here you go, dear. Take your time," the old woman whispered in a mothering tone, "Hotaru-san wishes to speak with you about funeral arrangements when you're done washing up."

Nodding silently, she closed the door as the woman left. It wasn't until she looked in the mirror that she scowled at her appearance. Her hair was disheveled and her face was red, eyes puffy from crying and a bad sleep. Her clothes were ruined, for the blood would be impossible to wash out at this point. She wasn't going to put the working women through that sort of hassle. Sighing, she removed her clothing, and let her body succumb to the heat of the water overtaking her worn out body.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed until she decided to drain the water and wrap herself in a plush towel. Drying herself, she began putting on a casual yukata. White in color, it matched the kanzashi that rested next to the water basin. Eying it, she touched it, as though it were a delicate trinket that would break at the slightest lack of care. Placing it into her damp hair, she finished applying her clothes and soon walked from the bath house.

Her steps were slow as her feet dragged her towards her destination. Her mind was in a fog and she didn't know what to think. Her thoughts drifted to her father and the loving man he was. Being a man of honor, he didn't show this side of him to many. In fact, Sakura was proud to say she was one of the few people that saw the loving and caring side of him. He was indeed a character in his own peculiar way. But, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Now that you're the Daimyo and Haruno clan leader, you need to understand your responsibility," a brusque voice explained through the paper door. This was one of the few occasions Sakura was thankful for such a custom. Her eyes went wide as she listened, her body becoming pressed against the wooden wall beside the pale sliding screen.

A chuckle came from the mouth of another man, one she found to be familiar. Unable to place its origin, she bit her lip in anticipation.

"I understand all of that, Kaicho-san," he began."My brother was a poor excuse of a man. Only he would get himself killed in such an important economic time. Tokyo needs a man like myself to take over."

Sakura gasped, but covered her mouth before the sound made it to unwanted ears.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room before a cough followed.

"Well, I'm not one to judge, Ryo-sama," the man named Kaicho exclaimed awkwardly."But I was Daisuke-sama's consultant. Thus, I will be yours as well. Daisuke-sama and I were confirming the Hyuuga Daimyo's treaty on the trade route from Osaka to Tokyo. It states that―"

"Save it. I don't want to hear it."

Sakura noted the long pause, most likely a pause of shock from the other man in the room. She frowned at her uncle's poor manners and crude sense of self. He was nothing like her Tou-san.

"I have other means I wish to discuss. You see, I've become good friends with a popular merchant whom travels around these parts selling geisha*. It is great economic opportunity that I would like to invest in."

Sakura wanted to gag. The idea of selling geisha was against everything her father worked for. He brought those type of women hope and helped them see things other than pleasuring men. Now this man was going to be selling them. Sakura could feel a churning in her stomach as she thought of the disgraceful man in the room. A hate was growing towards him. How dare he do this to her father. To Tou-san.

"Sir, I would advice you to think of a better way to improve the economy. The Hyuuga Daimyo will not app―"

"I don't care what that Hyuuga wants. This is about Tokyo. Not about some petty treaty between my dead brother and his colleague!" a silence followed. "This man will be coming here tomorrow morning and we will be discussing those matters with him. There will be no questions."

Movement followed his words. Stunned to silence, she didn't think to move until it was too late. The sliding screen came at her fast, just missing her face. Yelping in surprise, she covered her mouth as she stared at the face of her uncle. His dark green eyes seemed surprised at first, but then changed to a look malice.

"Were you spying, Sakura?" he took a step towards her, causing her to take a step back, "your father wouldn't approve of that."

Something within her snapped as her hands clenched into fists, her eyebrows scrunching together in fury.

"You don't know anything about my father; much less about taking his place as a leader!"

She couldn't stop her lips from muttering those deadly words. His face shifted. No longer enjoyment, it turned sour as his lips pursed in evident anger. Grabbing hold of the collar of her yukata, she was hoisted from the ground. Grinding her teeth together, she swore under her breath as she dug her nails into the man's wrist, burying skin and blood beneath her finger nails.

"You know nothing, you little wretch," he threw her to the ground in disgust, looking down at her. "You should know your place. Tou-san's not here to protect you anymore. Watch your mouth, if you know what is good for you."

She bit her lower lip, pain in her hip and wrist as she tried to ignore it and send the man a hateful glare. She received an amused smirk in return

"Now, go to your room and stay there. You're not to come out. Otherwise, you and your mother will be leaving my household."

His retreating back was all she saw before angry tears swelled and blurred her vision. Pounding her fist on the wooden floor, she swore at herself. She couldn't stop this man from soiling all her father's hard work. She couldn't stand up for herself. And now, she was going to lose everything she held dear to her. Everything was changing and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Hope You liked it! Comment please :]

Kanzashi: a hair ornament.

Yukata: a casual kimono worn around the house. They can range from simple to intricate.

Geisha: an "entertainer" and in some cases a prostitute.