Sakura's Point of View

One of the first—and probably most important—aspects that I noticed as soon as I set foot inside the village was how much the place had changed. I had only seen it once before, on one of our searches for Sasuke, but the change was obvious—the village was gorgeous.

There were green, lush plains, golden wheat fields, deep dark forests, and a neat, organized architecture; the buildings had wooden details and were painted colorfully, in perfect harmony with the surrounding scenery and the pungent flowers that adorned their windows and small gardens. The streets were narrow, most of them paved, save for the open center we crossed on our way to Sasuke's office. It was wide, circular, with a large fountain in the middle, wooden benches for people to relax on, and a multitude of stores on the margins.

And the people were happy—they were friendly, they were content, they were at home.

I could even go as far as comparing Oto to Konoha—which was a lot to say, considering the fact that, only a few years back, there was no term of comparison between them.

Truth to be told, I had expected that. I had expected things to be different once Orochimaru—and consequently, his influence—was gone.

A part of me whispered that this—everything I was seeing—was Sasuke's doing, but I ignored that part.

Between you and me, I still doubted the fact that he genuinely cared about these people—that he had accepted to be Otokage without have at least one selfish reason hidden up his sleeve. Because that was Sasuke. Always thinking about no one but himself.

Maybe I was rushing, jumping to unfounded conclusions, but my mind couldn't stop judging him. Blame the fact that I had known the Uchiha for so long and that I had been disappointed more times than I could count.

But if miracles did exist and he had changed for the better, I was willing to give him a second chance. After much deliberation, I decided that would be best—not just for me, not just for my mission, but for the rest of the world and the memory of Team Seven. After all, everybody deserved one, right?

Heh, it wasn't like he'd need my second chance.

But that's beside the point.

I was currently in his office, listening—though not really—to Naruto's unstoppable rambling. Otokage-sama—and I swear to God, I was about to destroy something if one more person addressed him as such—wasn't there yet; apparently, he was busy with something. The man that had showed us in had refused to let us know what that something was, even after my blond-haired teammate decided to yell in protest.

"And I still can't believe the teme became Kage before me! It's like…"

I tuned out the rest of Naruto's speech, like I had been doing until a couple of seconds before, and stood from my seat, walking over to the large window overlooking the village. The view was breathtaking. Night reigned over the valley; tiny sparkling dots were scattered among the inky darkness of the sky, but their brightness was diminished by the soft glow of the streets lamps below. In the distance, though, right above the darkened forest, dawn was breaking; stripes of fiery orange blended smoothly upwards into red, then purple, before disappearing in the blackness of the night.

I still had trouble believing that this was going to be my home for the following several months.

Of course, there was a part of me—a piece of the old Sakura who cared about everybody but herself—that was happy to be able to do something for these people, to help them, to compensate them somehow for the years of tyranny they had endured. This part was the one that had pushed me to become a medic, that had been following me throughout the duration of my career.

Under normal circumstances, such a mission would be ideal. But the "Sasuke Problem", as I had taken a liking to calling it, turned everything upside down.

I didn't want to spend time with him. I didn't want to work with him. I didn't want to be there, in his country, under his lead. After realizing that he plain-out didn't want to come back to Konoha, even after having completed his goal, every feeling that I might have still held for him disappeared, and was replaced by the exact opposite: disappointment, anger, hate.

It was amazing how, after all that he'd done, it was the simplest of actions that had opened my eyes. You would have thought I'd hate him for knocking me out and leaving me on a bench after I'd spilled my heart out to him, or for trying to kill both me and Naruto more than once, but that was not the case.

Everything he had done—every hurtful action, every mocking word, every glare and every gesture—bottled up inside of me until I finally couldn't take it anymore and snapped. I realized that I couldn't keep on loving him, that I couldn't keep on thinking that he'd come back, that he'd change, that he'd realize his mistakes and that he'd seek redemption in my arms.

I realized that I couldn't keep on hoping for a happy ending.

Stupid fairytales with their stupid happy endings don't exist. Too bad you only realize that when life decides to fuck with you.

"And where the hell is teme?"

Naruto's loud voice, along with the sound of the door opening, snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to reality.

I turned around, expecting to see the subject of my thoughts finally gracing us with his presence, but it wasn't him. That was not to say I would have wanted to see the person who entered. Her feminine features and barely clothed physique were familiar, but the red hair was simply unmistakable.

Karin—Sasuke's teammate.

I had never met her personally, but I knew, from mission reports read while sorting through paperwork and several trustworthy sources, that she was a bitch. There was no other word to describe her better; she was confident, overly-arrogant, and a fan-girl. But since one can never fully trust anybody—least of all appearances—I decided not to jump to conclusions once again and push those thoughts out of my mind. If she was as much of a bitch as people said her to be, then she could show it to me personally.

Shifting her weight to her right leg, she placed her free hand on her hip. She first looked at Naruto, then at Kakashi, studying them carefully with dark-brown eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses, before she turned to me. She looked at me up and down once, not even bothering to be subtle.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you the bitch who wants to play doctor here?" she asked. A smug expression spread over her face as I struggled to contain my shock.

Who the hell does she think she is?

I suddenly felt the urge to grab her ridiculously bright red hair and drag her through the entire building. I was sure the cleaning team would have been grateful—her clothes, as minuscule as they were, could have done a great job at sweeping the floors. I would have made sure they would leave it spotless, too. But as sad as it was, I knew I was already dreaming; there was no way Kakashi would allow me to do that to her. Ex-teacher or not, he was still the closest person I had to a father, and even though I could easily fight him off when he tried to stop me from ripping someone's head off, I respected him too much to do that.

So, I settled for the next best thing. I couldn't kick her ass, but I could be a smart bitch to her.

Smirking, I slowly made my way towards her, only stopping when we were face-to-face. I didn't miss the way Kakashi tensed in his seat or the way Naruto leaned forwards, not wanting to miss a second of our confrontation. While Kakashi didn't always like to assist to my displays of violence, Naruto seemed to enjoy them very much, finding my temper to be quite entertaining when it was not directed to him.

"I am," I answered.

I could tell she was surprised by the way I was behaving; she was probably confused as to why I hadn't reacted differently, why I hadn't attacked her—or at least cursed her. She was looking for a fight, I realized.

She's looking for me to rip her hair out!

"This," she said, raising the file in her hand for me to see, "is for you."

"Thank you," I answered, plastering a sweet smile to my face, and reached out to take the offering. She didn't immediately let go of it and I understand that she had something more to tell me. I raised a questioning eyebrow, my patience running thin; I guess the desire to lunge for her throat was still there, burning in my veins.

"One more thing," she said. "Sasuke-kun is mine."

Oh, so that's her problem!

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Her hissed words, along with the serious expression on her face… it was, in all honesty, hilarious. Add here the fact that she actually thought of me as a threat to her supposed relationship with Sasuke, and one could easily tell why it was so hard for me to stop laughing. I was so familiar with the fan-girl judgment that I was sure what she must have been thinking. New medic, looking fine, going to spend a large amount of time with the object of her infatuation. Yes, I could easily see where the jealousy was coming from.

I felt bad for her. Not only was she stupid, but she was also in love—rather, obsessed—with a jerk. That might have been the reason why I felt it was my duty to reassure her that I wanted nothing to do with her country, in the first place, and that I wouldn't go near her Sasuke-kun if my life was on the line.

So, I plastered a smile to my face and answered, "Don't worry, I wouldn't even want him wrapped-up as a birthday present."

Of course, being the rational woman I was known to be, I knew that, had I truly wanted to help her in any way, I would have told her about my history with Sasuke, but then again, did I want that? No, she was too much of a bitch for that.

I was sure my words had hit a nerve; she must have noticed I was mocking her more than reassuring her, and I was so proud of myself and my achievement, that I was still smirking.

Until I saw him standing in the doorway, looking like the handsomest Greek God that had ever existed.

Sasuke had always been good-looking, which was one of the reasons why I didn't blame my superficial, thirteen-year-old self for falling for him, but this was ridiculous.

His hair was black, messy, sticking up in the same familiar hairstyle, contrasting perfectly with his equally dark eyes and flawless, pale skin. His features had changed, matured, but remained as aristocratic as ever; his body was slender, yet muscular. He was tall, much taller than me and most likely taller than Naruto, though the difference couldn't be large.

He looked handsome, in a drop-dead gorgeous sense.

And all I could think of was…

…how in the world could a person look as hot as him as still be a jerk?

Wasn't there some kind of helpful rule that prohibited that?