Hey guys! I know I never like, I dunno, write (or complete anything [I'm working on that I swear]) but I thought a cute little one shot would be cute. I left the details very, very vague, I want your imaginations to do the work! The most obvious hint is her and I feel like I laid on him enough for you all to get the reference, if not, oh well! It's just a cute little bought between six year olds (the way I wrote it, there is obvious age distortion). Have fun! PS; I do not own Naruto... turtle shells.
She never spoke, it was abnormal even by his own standards, her mouth never once opened, not to eat, not to yawn… not even to speak; nothing. She communicated with writing, if she chose to respond at all, when she ignored a question in class their teacher would only sigh and give her the most pitiful look he could muster, but she never noticed and if she did she never said anything. It triggered his curiosity, which at the age of five was an easy thing to trigger, but she held his attention, captivated it. Her intelligence, her beauty and her silence. The pitied looks given to her, the exception to her obvious neglect of the rules of classroom participation… it was all a trigger to his curiosity. The way she sat in the back of the classroom staring out the window, how she almost never seemed to be doing work even during tests even though he knew she had been handed the flimsy piece of paper, the way she could master any jutsu with only a few tries. She was an enigma.
She hid, sitting in a spot where no one could comfortably turn to stare at her, mock her or make any forms of communication with her. Her hair always blocked her face or she had some form of book in front of her face to block her from view. He had seen her face plenty of times, she had a pretty face even his mother said so, so he had no idea why she hid her face. Beautiful, emerald colored eyes that always seemed to be dark with a winter storm, a cold gaze, a straight face… pain. He saw the pain, he understood the pain; it was the pain of not being loved. He felt that pain, he'd never admit it out loud but he felt it, the way his family used him, pushed him and even abused him. Was her pain the same? The fire burned brighter, yearning for a companion he could turn to, and finally, he had come to his decision. It had not been an easy decision to think of, but he understood it was the right decision, to step out of the spot light, to no longer sit in the very front of the classroom where the teacher could always see him, where the teacher would always see him working hard.
The first time he sat with her, he saw panic in her eyes, it was the first emotion he had seen in her eyes other than the cold winter storm, her eyes had flashed a dark, putrid color green, the same color the sky turned before a tornado. He did not speak, he did not wish to discomfort her any more than he already had, and instead he slid a single origami rose towards her. There was confusion written all over his face, but he saw for the second time within the same time frame a new emotion in her eyes as they brightened to a sea foam green, a much lighter color, the corners of her mouth changed slightly, moving upwards, it was the first time her lips moved during class. He made it his goal to make her smile. He had left her alone for the rest of the day, not wanting to scare away the only person he had the interest in making his friend, she kept the rose on the corner of her paper, her hand brushing it as she shifted about or wrote something down, but he dared not open his mouth.
The next school day he sat with her again, she again looked at him with confusion and perhaps wariness, but it wasn't as noticeable this time around. Then he saw a third emotion overcome her winter storm eyes; nervousness. Like the strong sea breeze blowing against the tree's her eyes danced as she timidly slid something between the space between them, her too neat to be a six year old's handwriting was inside the paper card that had a weasel so delicately drawn on it, "Thank you, the rose was beautiful, you are very talented." He gave her a reassuring look after she watched him open it, read it and then close it again to just touch the weasel drawn on the front. He saw relief fill her eyes when he didn't react in a negative way, this time it was the color of a beautiful sea green when the waters were still and the sunlight reflected off of them. He hadn't expected her to reach out to him so soon, having such a response didn't make him feel guilty for sliding the lily across the space towards her in retaliation.
On the third day she had already figured it out, or perhaps she had even hoped, that her new table mate would continue to sit with her as when he got to the classroom there was a 'gift' waiting for him in front of his seat. She had drawn a weasel again, only this time it had a ribbon drawn on its head and it was chewing on a tag that said 'turn over'. When he turned it over he was awed. A large raven flew over a forest scene, a Konoha forehead protector in its claws and he knew automatically it was supposed to be a representation of him, soaring mightily above Konoha, his ever watchful eye aware, the forehead protector a symbol of his loyalty to the village, then his eye caught something he hadn't expected, on the wing of the raven, there was the Konoha symbol in white, blended in with careful shading to make it less obvious. She had worked very hard on that drawing and he knew immediately he wanted to keep it, frame it, forever. He gently slid over the origami cat he had made, it was the second time her lips had moved, though she still hadn't smiled. He accepted it would take time.
The variety of their gifts varied from extravagant to simple, not a word uttered no other interaction passing between them. He was waiting for her to move at her comfort, but it happened so comfortably that he hadn't even noticed when the distance between them shortened, each day she had been scooting close to him inch by inch so by the time the four weeks had finished, she was sitting right next to him, with almost no space between them. When their shoulders bumped, the first physical contact they had his eyes widened and she looked down blushing though she did not move, nor did he want her to move. An hour before class ended her hand brushed over his, a feather touch, almost like a teasing kiss, he glanced down, a simple word written on a piece of paper, 'Why?'
His response had been simple, 'What?'
'Why are you so kind to me?'
'I do not want you to be alone anymore.'
He watched her reaction, cat shaped eyes widening to be almost impossibly large and her mouth opened, complete surprise had willed her mouth that always remained shut to open, and although no words left her mouth when she regained her composure, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen grew on her lips. It had taken him a month, but he made her smile, if he died tomorrow, he would have died a very, happy man.
So when I was writing this I was imagining a not-so-useless-six-year-old-Sakura and a not-so-clan-oriented-six-year-old-Itachi, who did you think? This is the reason why I left details blank!