Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Burn: "Have we met before?" The stranger shook his head and pulled down his hood. Sakura, at age 34, is retired from her Shinobi life. But who says she can't fall in love again after twenty-two years?
Burn
1. Encounter
There comes a day when you realize you're tired of it – all of it, everything.
Sometimes, it's human nature to give up and hope for a better life next time. Oftentimes, though, human nature drives one to cling onto life anyway, because resorting to death is the last thing one should do.
Haruno Sakura was of the latter. She was weary of all that had ever happened, and one day, she gave it all up, except for her life. Shinobis and doctors were now faraway things.
A clear tinkling bell chimed and as usual, she paused from her research and greeted, "Hello."
Her customer was oddly quiet, and for a second, she was scared he would attack her.
Not that she was scared of getting hurt, but she would have to defend herself, and she didn't ever want to use her shinobi skills again. It brought her too much to remember, too much pain.
To her relief, the customer, suspiciously clad in black with a hood masking his face, merely nodded in reply.
And then her heart quickened again, because he lifted the hood up ever so slightly, and she caught terrible burn marks.
"I know just the right ointment for that." She went to the back of her pharmacy and searched for the medicine.
When she returned, the stranger had taken his hood off, and Sakura now saw the blindfold covering his eyes.
She couldn't totally run away from her previous life, after all, so she had set up a tiny pharmacy. And upon seeing his face, instincts kicked up again.
"Are you blind?" To her question, the customer simply nodded once.
Judging by the way his mouth was clamped tight shut, and his lack of audible answers, she asked again, "Are you mute?" A slight nod was, again, his response.
After packaging the medicines, the pink-haired woman outstretched her hand on the counter to give it to him.
She felt the stranger pause to look at her hands, even though he was blind. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she pulled her hands back to her side anyway, away from his view.
Her hands were soft and smooth, and they were small and chubby, like a little girl's. Except… she was a thirty-four year old woman! How embarrassing.
In silence, the man before her carefully set a few bills on the counter and headed to the door. The way he moved, the way he shifted, everything about him told her that he was a shinobi.
Haruno Sakura could never run away, could she? There were painful reminders everywhere, it seemed.
The chime bell sounded again, and just before he stepped out, she blurted without knowing why.
"Have we met before?"
The strange man turned back, ever so subtly, and he seemed to say "yes."
Perhaps that was her imagination, too, because in the next moment, he shook his head and pulled down his hood.
And then, she saw him no more that day.
Notes: Am I supposed to capitalize "shinobi"? Anyway, another inspiration struck me... I have too many ideas in my mind. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you.