Disclaimer:I don't own Naruto

This is my first fanfic.

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CHAPTER 1

What am I doing?

What am I doing?

What am I doing?

"What am I doing…?"

Ah. Yes. Yes. Yes. I, myself, most definitely can answer that question. I scrunched my hair into a messy bun and slowly leaned forward. Time ticked. Three. Two. One. Truly, it was unavoidable. I slipped and toppled over the pile of soap and rags in front of me. My clothes were thoroughly soaked, and my fingers began to prune. I rubbed my behind painstakingly. "Well, isn't this a fairy tale?"

I fixed my posture and stretched my arms. I let out a horrifying groan. It echoed back at me. So, what am I doing? I'll answer that. I am spending my wonderful Saturday afternoon doing…ugh!

This ought to be a mockery. I am being ridiculed to the point of exasperation. Alas, it cannot be helped. I, garbed in cleaning attire, am scrubbing the most overly-used toilet in history. Not only that, I have to finish the whole stinking bathroom before dinner time. One hour and thirty minutes left. Who came up with that stupid rule? Oh ho. Why, my mother of course. The bathroom is dinosaur huge. Practically half of the house can fit into this bathroom. I am not kidding. If I'm lie, I'll stick a needle in my eye to prove it.

Five years ago, my senile grandfather had the sudden urge to renovate the lower floor bathroom for his wife. Lovely. My room was torn down in the process, and I had to move into the attic. Very lovely. He called it his 'greatest masterpiece'. I can't help but give myself a slap on the forehead. Our bathroom looked equivalent to an indoor hotel spa. Luxurious and spacious. It was the only thing worth mentioning in the house.

Mother always said, "Dear, it is essential for all females in our family to know how to do household chores. One day you will get married to a young man and…" Her lectures were nothing I haven't heard of before. Typical. Long. Repetitive. Apparently, if I do not know how to clean, I fail as a female. Useless. Worthless. Pitiful. I'm sure the average person would know how to clean. How can 'I' fail as a female? Seriously.

"At least I don't fail as a human being." I unconsciously flushed the toilet three times. It was a mindless habit. I would flush the toilet three times, exactly three, after I'd clean the toilet. Though, I had no clue as to why I do it. Mother said I happened to pick it up somewhere when I was a young girl. It was probably grandmother's fault. She always did strange things from time to time when she was still around. I massaged my wrist to ease the ache. "Time to do the tub."

I've won the race against time. The area was spick-and-span. Bonus: I took a relaxing bath. Slowly, I made my way to the kitchen. Left. Right. Left. Right. I constantly staggered to and fro. My stomach was starving. I laid down on the couch, slouched, and whined. Without a clue, my grandfather walked right up to the couch and commented my hair. "My, my! Your hair is like the color of salmon! I can almost eat it! Hallelujah!" I looked at him with a distasteful expression.Is this old man sane?

It was ten minutes before dinner time.

"You can be such a grouch when you are hungry."

I smothered my face with my favorite cushion. It was my father.

"Father and daughter. We're a matching pair of socks."

"Very funny. I'm not that bad."

"Right…"

"If we're a matching pair of socks, what about your mother?"

"Grandfather's belt. She's the only one holding his pants up."

I grinned.

Father laughed.

Mother heard.

I was second to the last to finish my overloaded dinner plate. My grandfather had disapproved of anyone parting leftovers. Of course, I was the miserable victim. For an aggravating fifteen minutes, his grand speech about a balanced diet ensued non-stop. His rasping voice overflowed heavily throughout the entire room. I just sat and listened. Truthfully, I did not leave any leftovers. I ate it all. My father had secretly discarded his table scraps onto my plate, when my grandfather went to get a glass of water. I briefly skimmed the living room. There my father was, relaxing on the couch, comfortably, watching his show without a care.

I was alone washing the dishes in the kitchen when it happened. The living room phone rang for the longest time, before my mother picked it up. I partially eavesdropped on the wary conversation. I could make out distinct words such as 'vacation', 'house', and 'pay'. My attention turned back to the dishes. I promptly finished cleaning the tableware and dried my hands with my shirt. Mother came in.

"I was on the phone with an old friend." She was smiling. It almost looked fake.

"Oh." It gave me the chills. Big time.

"I agreed." She patted my shoulder with brimming enthusiasm.

"Ah…..With what?" I gave her an uneasy smile.

"You will be taking care of their house for an entire month while they are away."

My mother stood there, hands on her hips, and laughed as the seconds ticked by. I don't get her at all. This sinister and scheming presence radiated off her like sweet perfume gone horribly wrong.

I sense evil.

I, Haruno Sakura, have the greatest urge to roll down the steepest hill in the country.

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Of course, my grammar isn't the best. So, please excuse the missed mistakes.