Bright green eyes stared at him. A very familiar shade of green eyes. The pink hair, however, was only slightly familiar to him. Pink hair and acid green eyes on a four year old girl, however, was not familiar to him. At all.
Even if she was his (which he made sure me left no evidence of being in a village), he was pretty sure that any child of his would be strong enough to fend for themselves.
This child, this pink haired acid green eyed child, was not his.
If only for the sole fact that she was doing nothing about these girls picking on her forehead.
(He faintly remembered his own childhood. He broke many kids arms for saying anything about his forehead.) (He's still a little self-conscious about his, but with his forehead protector on, nobody can tell how big it is.)
He doesn't even notice when the tiny four year old child disappears, but he does notice when one of the girls picking on her trips (somehow) straight into dog shit. Her screaming made it impossible not to notice. Especially when he can clearly see something stretched by the trees causing the girl to fall face first into it.
(He later learns that the pink haired girls name is Sakura.)
He convinces himself that no, she wasn't his.
(He cross refrences where her mother was with where he was and the timing of it. She is his.)
He shrugs it off and keeps tabs on her.
(he might or might not have sent her a weapon he stole.)
.
.
.
(It still had a bit of blood on it.)