"Winter Girls"
a SasuSaku story by Rot-chan
Summary: Her name is Sakura Haruno. She is just like me, and you. She is fourteen years old. Sasuke Uchiha makes her scowl, and smile, and want to love. Her hair is pink; her eyes are green. But she is different, in a way, because she will be the next victim; the man's prey. He is watching her.
Rating: for now, T
[Notes: I am inspired by 'Lovely Bones' and 'The Missing Girl' to write a story about a girl, falling in 'like' and facing the challenges of being a teenager, and in her innocence becoming the victim of a predator. "The man" is the predator, and his part of the story is meant for the suspense. And 'he' is no one in particular, for now; he is symbolizing predators in the world. Also, the title is important to the plot, which you'll learn more about later. Please review and tell me what you think about the idea.]
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto; we all wish we did.
[DAY 1]
The man is always alone.
He is always on time.
He never bothers anyone.
This man is bored. He is bored and he is tired of his life, of getting the mail and wearing red ties with blue shirts, of feeding his cat and killing his goldfish and buying new ones.
It has been four years since they gave him his freedom.
He is a fine man; a "good" man, he thinks, and he smiles to himself as he looks at his new pet fish, Melvin, sitting on top of the mantle in a tiny bowl, a miniature world of treasure chests and castles at the bottom.
This man feels the ache in his chest, the Empty Place, the need.
But he is a nice man, a "good" man, and he will not hurt anybody. He feeds Melvin and watches the Late Show. He makes egg salad for lunch and eats left overs for dinner. He will avoid them - beautiful smiles and long legs and short skirts - for the moment.
[DAY 2]
When Sakura wakes up, she remembers the flowers.
In her dream, there are thousands of tiny flowers, rippling with the breeze. Poppies, dahlias, tiger lilies, roses. All of them bloom, and wilt under her finger tips. The smell of rotten apples is thick in the air, and the ground turns to slush and mud, a dirty embankment of stagnant water with dead sharks, around her waist.
But it's only a dream. She is awake now. Just a dream. So she closes her eyes, opens them again, once, twice – and she goes to wash the bad taste out of her mouth, to examine her pores.
Her name is Sakura Haruno. She is just like me, and you.
She is fourteen years old. Today she is starting ninth grade, in a new school.
Her hair is pink; her eyes are green.
But she is different, in a way, because she will the next girl, the next victim; his prey.
[DAY 5]
Hinata, who sits in the back row of her Math class, hardly speaks.
"She like, never talks. I forget what her voice sounds like," the girl in front of her explains.
Sakura can't say anything about Hinata, because she doesn't know her; but she can understand why Hinata is alone, and the sympathy is clear in her heart.
The girl has short hair cropped by her mother's scissors; she wears overalls and jumpers in denims and blues; her lips are chapped, her nails are chewed.
But it is her eyes. Hauntingly white – blank. The world goes past her in an instant, but everything is immersed in darkness. She is, quite simply, blind.
And there are some secrets that people shouldn't talk about, but want to so much that they are said anyway.
"And you know what, Sakura? That blind girl's little sister – she was a Winter Girl. Do you remember that? She was the second one they found out there, in that shack . . . ."
They remember the murders, the pictures of their faces, the bodies, found in the melting snow, three years ago. "The most violent murder committed in Konohagakure in years." Sakura can't remember the right one – the girl who looks liker her sister. Sakura was eleven back then.
So instead she imagines a kind child, with huge, seeing eyes and dark blue hair, running through a field turning to frost and ice, then sleeping inside a tree; her heart beats slowly and her hands are cool, but there is a flush on her cheeks and a flutter of her lashes, because she is still so alive.
The bell rings a few moments later; it's time for Hatake's Mathematics class (it is geometry and she hates it, they all hate it) to begin.
But Sakura knows that the little girl, 'the youngest victim at nine years old', is not resting peacefully in the woods; she has been cut up and lost to the world of living things. She is dead. D-e-a-d, the image of it, how she pictured it, coming back again.
Sakura swallows and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear; she can't watch Hinata feel the bumps beneath her fingers from across the room, dragging her hands across the paper in a secret language no one else knows.
Hatake-sensei pulls down the screen near the whiteboard and flips on the ancient projector. Sakura begins to take notes, and tries to ignore the whispers in her brain. She is starting to understand why it can be better never having to see at all.
[DAY 11]
The man is driving home from work one day and he sees her.
She is walking with two girls, a blond and a brunette.
Instantly he chooses which ones he likes and which he does not; they catch his interest, because they are in uniform; and he imagines them to be prim and polite young girls, girls who play the piano and wear high stockings and nightgowns to bed.
He does not favor the blond, because her pony tail is much too long – he has never liked girls with ratty hair. And even though her curves are evident beneath the plain white shirt, and her wrists are weighed down with beautiful jewelry, the man cannot like her.
The brunette has her hair in buns and chopsticks; she skips as she walks, her back pack flopping against her shoulders. The man does not like her, either, because she seems like an animal stuck under a fence, constantly moving and talking and fidgeting, annoying enough to slap.
No – the man is sure the one he likes is the girl with the crude pink hair, and the long creamy legs, the blue skirt rolled up to show a peek of her thigh. Too much leg, the man thinks, wishing he could chastise her for it. A girl's body should be kept secret.
Suddenly they turn right at the corner, on West Locust street; the man is almost at the main road, he realizes, and tears his gaze from the three young girls, laughing amongst themselves, unaware of the rest of the world.
[DAY 33]
It is in History class where Sakura is informed, though grudgingly so, by Ino that Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto are staring at her.
October's cool breeze sweeps through the open windows of the classroom; a few children gather at desks and talked about movies, television and music – but never books, they never talk about books, Sakura thinks – as they wait for Miss Yuhi to come in.
"They're staring at you." Sakura's purple pen stops scribbling small drawings of lucky nekos and stars in the corner of her science notebook.
"Who?"
"Oh, come on, Sakura! You've been at Konoha Prep for almost a month now and you don't know The Uchiha Sasuke? And Naruto, his friend?"
A blank look, and a stare. Ino rolls her eyes and says, "You know, the boy with the spiky hair and the blond guy, with the scars. Sasuke. And Naruto. They're pre-tty popular."
The truth is that Sakura has been too busy with herself, she feels guilty. She has not called Ino to 'sleep-over' or go out to get ice cream at her favorite store near the mall; she has been trying to memorize her school schedule and studying to improve her geometry grade.
"Oh, yeah – I know who you mean. Should I look?" Sakura asks quietly as she tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, and chews on the pen cap.
Ino hesitates then whispers sharply, "Look, now." And Sakura does.
They are like day, with hot sun and bare feet in the summer time, and night, with a sharp cool breeze and a bright moon sky. She sees the Day shove the Night; she hears the word 'obnoxious' from across the classroom, and a few other curses from the blond, whose tanned skin contrasts the pale complexion of 'The Uchiha Sasuke'.
She can't tear her eyes away from them. They're mesmerizing. Like . . . . "They aren't even real . . . ." Sakura thinks aloud.
[DAY 39]
Once again the man follows them; this is like a routine, and he is no longer as bored as he used to be.
Today the brunette is missing and he is secretly glad; he keeps his eyes on the road, but wants to watch them. The pinkette and the blond are running this time, ice cream cones in their hands, screaming and giggling with laughter.
When the man sees the pink haired girl lick her cone, he has chills and he must look away. He steps on the gas pedal and goes a bit faster; there is no one behind him, because he takes the longest route home from work.
Soon he passes them. The man breathes deeply and goes home, but does not feel like eating the leftover ambrosia from the night before; he frowns at Melvin as he swims frantically about his bowl.
The man is . . . mad. No, he is annoyed. Annoyed at the two girls for crossing his path and leaving him with ice cream all over their lips. It is indecent of them; it is not right. He shudders and turns on his TV, the sounds of generic laughter calming his racing heart.
[END OF PART 1]