Disclaimer: Do I own Naruto? Nope. Can't say I do. I also know that the image that I'm using for the cover of this story is Megurine Luka ( bless that beautiful vocaloid ) but she is an interpretation of how I want Sakura to look in this story.
Jesus! I came across one of my old email accounts one day and found this! I forgot all about this story, and I didn't intentionally abandon it but forgot the password. Now that I've found it, I'm more than interested in rewriting and continuing this story!
There were not many things in this world that could still his heart. In fact, Naruto could hardly ever recall of ever being afraid of anything or anyone, especially as he had grown older. When he was just a boy, there were always silly stories and urban legends that his peers loved to tell; giants made of darkness, demons with eyes the same crimson as blood or a frightening woman that preyed and devoured small children if they answered wrong to her question. Even so, Naruto always figured that he could just punched the monster in the face. That was usually the solution to all his problems; hitting it or befriending it, with nothing else in-between. And yet, he didn't feel that way right now. For the first time, Naruto was actually afraid to let his fist kiss the face the person above him. But what he couldn't discern if the reason was solely based on fear.
Perhaps it was those eyes of hers that muddied his feelings, that pinned him down to the floor. He felt caught up, like a small prey that was cornered and trapped with the only outcome being was to succumb to the fate before him. Moving felt unwanted than it felt unable. Looking away seemed wrong than it felt right. All he could do was lay there, weighty droplets of rain crashing against his skin as he kept focus of the girl that stared at him with an expression that danced between anger and sadness. Why did she look at him like that? What did he do? And what exactly did she want? He wasn't sure but he had hoped the answer soon come to him or at the very least be given.
"Menma."
Her voice was a little above a whisper, shaking with shock and echoed with grief. But if he hadn't been paying such close attention, he might've not paid attention to any of the clues she was unintentionally giving. Menma. The name bounced around his head. Who was Menma? Was it someone she knew? Whoever this Menma was that could conjure up such a desolate expression on this girl face must've meant a whole lot of something to this girl. Funnily enough, he happened to be named after something Naruto despised. He couldn't stand the taste nor the sight of menma in his ramen, so for the very fact that this guy was named after that, literally put an awful taste in his mound.
Naruto hated him already.
"Uh…" His rough voice seemed to break the trance between them. "That's not my name," he clarified, wondering if this simple fact would clear any misconceptions she had.
Her head shook slowly, almost like she couldn't believe what he said. Well, was it really because she could believe that he wasn't Menma or that she wasn't sure what led her to think that he was him? Naruto simply couldn't put it his finger on it, but all he did know was that he couldn't stop himself for feeling sorry for her. She looked so… unhappy, so hurt. Even if he wanted to promise her that he was willing to help her look for this Menma, Naruto wasn't sure if he wanted to put her (this total stranger) through that kind of pain again.
Everything always seemed to turn out this way. You see, Naruto had this severe problem of habitually saving people. He was a rescuer of the sort. He could never help himself, which often landed him in a heap of trouble, though he never minded it. Besides, she was a beautiful girl and Naruto always felt inclined to help beautiful girls. This time, however, felt entirely different than his normal rescuing. Despite hardly saying a word, she made him feel quite different about it all. Just from the single sight of her alone, Naruto could that it was her wounds she truly needed saving from. They weren't physical lacerations, though the feeling they exuded alone gave them that kind of power. Outright, Naruto could tell, that she herself was a wounded person. And the only reason he could tell so easily by her expression was because…
He had those same wounds before.