In the middle of winter, it is said anything can happen. This, of course has always been treated as a superstition of a vague legend. But anyone who thought that was proven wrong ten years ago. A small family, with a small child, were the unfortunate ones who proved it true.

The light glinted off the metal of the katana held in the man's hand. He brought it slowly away from the sheath and into the air, as if concentrating on something. A little girl peeked through the gap in her parents legs to see him. He was dressed in black, but she could tell he was big, strong, and he had a sword.

"What do you want with us?" The father asked.

"I don't want anything from you."

"Then why are you doing this?" Screamed her mother. She shielded her only child from the attacker in front of her.

"I'm doing this because I need to be sated. I need to kill. I need to feel your blood between my fingers, I need to feel your bodies grow cold."

"Murderer!"

"I suppose you could call me that. But whatever you do or don't cal me, you're still going to die."

The little girl didn't understand the concept of murder. She understood death, and she understood pain, but not murder. So this was confusing to her. All she knew was that this man had a sword, something that could hurt her. She looked up at her father. His teeth were gritted. His eyes darted back and forth around the room, looking for something to protect them with. Nothing was within reach. He gulped.

His daughter saw realization in his eyes. "Run!" He called to his wife and child as the man with the sword began his approach. He slid in front of them and tried to fend off his assailant. The girl was dragged away by her mother, and didn't get to see what happened with her father.

It was for the best. She was only five.

Her mother took her by the hand and half dragged her along as she flung open the back door and hurried through the snow, almost knee-deep on her, and waist deep on a five-year-old. She stumbled, the snow soaking her pants, making them heavy, and hindering her even more.

"Hurry," she urged the young girl. Noticing she couldn't go any faster, she picked her up and threw her over her shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

She was bouncing from her mother's running, and looking back, she could see the man emerging from her house, dragging behind him a sword covered in blood.

"Daddy..." she whispered, covering her mouth.

The man was gaining. He had no small child to protect, nothing but his sword to carry along. Soon he was mere feet away.

Her mother knew what she had to do.

She tossed her child into the snow ahead of her, and turned to face the murderer, screaming over her shoulder to her daughter. "Run, Sakura, RUN!" She did as she was told, not willing to watch the inevitable death of her mother.

Now she understood what murder was.

She ran for the forest, hoping to hide. In the cover of the trees, she weaved in and out of the trunks of the birches. It was too much for her small body to take. She was tired within minutes. She had barely enough energy to keep going. She collapsed while crossing a clearing, swearing--something she hadn't known she could do--and praying for mercy.

She closed her eyes. The snow was seeping into the rest of her clothes, and making her limbs stiff with the cold. "And now," she thought to herself, "I am going to die."

Sakura laid there. She inhaled the frigid air, and exhaled a cloud of steam, watching it float away from her. She suddenly heard the crunching of snow under boots, and closed her eyes, knowing it was over. She didn't want to see it happen. It was too scary just knowing he was coming. She curled up onto her side, her pink hair splayed out inder her hair in a perfect fan-like array.

Her parents were dead. The only people she loved. Maybe it'd be better that way.

"Well, what have we here?" That wasn't the same voice she'd been expecting. Her eyes flew open. She turned her head to look straight up. Standing over her was a man. An odd man.

He covered his face with a scarf. One eye had a scar over the lid, and his hair was a shock of gray. He looked to be in his late teens, and despite his appearance--or what she could see of it--he looked kind.

"Who might this young lady be?" She saw on his back he had a hatchet strapped there. Under one arm he carried a small bundle of what looked to be firewood, and in the other hand he held a book, his thumb marking the page. She said nothing, but in hearing another set of footsteps, whimpered in fear.

The man's face softened in sympathy as she curled, protecting herself. "I won't hurt you," he promised, reaching to help her up. He froze, mid-reach, having seen in his peripheral, the man at the edge of the clearing.

"Step away from the child, man," the murderer threatened, pointing with his sword.

"What business do you have with her?" The gray-haired man asked, stepping in front of Sakura.

"Whatever it is is between she and I. Please step aside."

"I won't let you hurt a little girl." He turned and helped Sakura to sit up. She curled her frozen, bare toes beneather her in an attempt to warm them up. It didn't work. "Stay right here," the kind man told her, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. It covered her eyes just for a moment, and once she removed it from her face, she saw the scarf that had been around his face flutter to the ground in front of her.

She looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the face of her savior, but he had already turned around. Not that it would have mattered. Her vision was starting to blur. She squinted to see as the two men ran at each other, and a spray of blood fell againt the white of the snow. Sakura gasped.

The snow at her feet turned black, as did everything else in her vision. The last thing she remembered seeing was the man with the sword fleeing, and the nice man turning to see her falling face-first into snow, and running to catch her.

She woke up in a warm place. She opened her eyes. She was in a cabin. In a bed, in a cabin. Was this the nice man's house?

"So you're awake?" His voice was soft. She looked over to see him sitting at the table in the center of the room, reading. His face was once again covered, this time by a face mask, similar to what her mother used to wear during spring cleaning.

Her mother.

Thinking about her parents and how she'd never see them again just got her tears flowing. THe nice man didn't stop her from crying. He must have found her parents, dead, mutilated, and knew exactly why she sat and sobbed. Once she stopped, he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you alright?" She nodded, though she wasn't exactly sure herself. "What's your name?"

"Sakura."

"Well, Sakura, it would seem as though you are out of a home. How would you like to live here with me?" She looked up at him in surprise at his generous offer. "After all, there's room for an extra bed, and I wouldn't mind the company. What do you think?" She accepted without hesitation. "Glad to hear it." He stood and started to stokethe fire, over which a pot was boiling with some sort of sustenance. "By the way, my name's Kakashi. And you might want to learn how to cook, because my skills are lacking." She laughed, and she thought she saw a smile in 'Kakashi's' eyes, since she couldn't see his mouth.

How she'd ever repay this man, she didn't know, but she had a home, and she had a friend. That was all she needed in life.