There had always been a sort of fire in her eyes, a sort of blazing determination that left me awestruck. That's why I never looked her directly in her eyes, because I knew if I did, I would end up falling for her just like that fool. I didn't need to be involved with someone like her, especially not a useless, weak fangirl. I never looked into those vibrant green eyes. But her pink hair that would whip in the wind, always slightly tangled, always a little bit messy, just like her wild personality. She tried to hide it around me, she acted "cute" and "ditzy" but I could see right through her shallow act. I could never look at her hair because it would remind me of what I liked about her best. I could never allow myself to like someone so fake. Then there were her lips, they were perfectly shaped and always changing movement. Whether they were curved into a smile or frown, trembling, or speaking (yelling) they always reminded me of the intense emotion she allowed herself to show, She had no ability to hide them at all, she couldn't even do that much. Then there were her strong, little hands. They were fisted so often, showing how much of a fighter she actually was but they were also so soft and clean. Not one small scar could be seen, not one callous, and her nails would glitter with unchipped polish every day. She cared more about her appearance than she did about being a shinobi. Then there was her body, so small and delicate, more suited for a civilian life than that of a shinobi, and yet she pushed herself when it really counted, her small, soft, delicate body would convulse, flex, and tighten with the shear will power coursing through her veins. But she was still weak. I could never look at her because then I'd be reminded of every reason I loved her. For awhile, it worked, and I managed to keep my feelings at bay. But then she used her final weapon on me, her words.
"I love you." and that's why I had to leave.