Title: Why?
Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Naruto, mmkay? I'd be making loads in Japan rather than writing this, yes? kaythnxbai.


Dedication: I don't like to repeat myself...


Notes: I think that listening to "The A Team" by Ed Sheeran makes a difference while you're reading this, just to emphasize my dedication. If this is the first of my stories you've read, please check out my other one, There's A Time And A Place, ta :)


Chapter 2
You watch her. She's wearing the same shredded jeans and worn out plimsolls. Her top's new. Doesn't look designer though. Unlike the black Vivienne Westwood t-shirt you're wearing, Levi Strauss jeans, black All Stars and black Diesel Jarrow Jacket that's shielding you from the onset of winter. No, she's wearing a plain white tee with a little pink flower in the corner that's torn away, and a flimsy pink cardigan over her shoulders, not even bothering to hide her shivering. Her hair, brushing her waistline, doesn't look like it's been washed in a couple of days, however her striking pink hair hides no shame. While the guys carry on drinking and laughing, you analyse her, like you always do...


She has dark circles and bags under her eyes.

But you don't know she was up all night looking after her dying mother.

She hands over the wrong amount of money to the stall owner.

And you don't know she doesn't have an education.

She's limping.

But you don't know that she has bruises on the insides of her thighs from the amount of times she's sold herself to pay for the bare necessities to keep her and her mother going.

She's holding onto her wrists.

And you don't know she cuts herself to take away the pain of being raped and beaten by her drunk father.

She's mumbling to herself.

But you don't know it's because she's schizophrenic that she is abused.

She's oh so thin.

And you don't know that she's anorexic because she hates herself and has to feed her mother.

She's forever coughing.

But you don't know she has hypothermia from working all day in fields in the cold weather for less than a hundred and twenty-one yen a day.

She has red, puffy eyes.

And you don't know she cries herself to sleep every night.


She looks over at you. Like she does every night.

The two of you have some sort of connection. You have silent conversations every night. She stares at you helplessly with giant emerald eyes, boring into your obsidian's. She begs of you with her smile. "Please..." She doesn't need to finish her sentence. You know what she is asking of you. You're probably the closest thing to a friend she has, but once again, you communicate "I'm so sorry." She half laughs, her head dropping to her chest, it's what she expected from you as usual. She looks up at you. "Thank you anyway..." You know she's thanking you for your company. Her knuckles turn whiter than whiter as she clenches on to the shopping bags she's limply clinging to.

You hate seeing her like this. It's disgusting.


What ever landed on your cheek, you hope it's a water droplet. You look up to the sky that should mirror your eyes, your hair, your personality, but it's not there. Oh yeah, clouds.

"Fuck, man. It's rainin'." Naruto moaned.

"I thought it would." Shikamaru replied, following your gaze.

"If you knew, Mr I-Stare-At-Clouds-So-Much-That-I-Can-Predict-The-Weather, why didn't you tell us?" You don't need to even glance at Naruto to know that he's only had one beer and the alcohol has already gone to his head.

"What, and ruin the surprise?" The Nara male retaliated nonchalantly. Three others laughed, Nara sighed in content, Naruto sulked and you smirked.

You look back across the street but it's too late, she's already left. Probably back to her crappy home life that you wish you could do something about. Your five companions start to rush inside the pub, being careful to not spill their drinks. You stand to follow suit. But your conscience stops you. Suigetsu waits by the door frame for you. You tell him you'll be there in a moment. He walks in, saying something about how you're a dumbass for staying outside in the cold and rain for no reason but you dismiss it.

You walk away from the pub and onto the pavement, obstructing the crowd of scurrying late night shoppers. Some mutter obscenities, others just barge past you, but you ignore them, taking advantage of your height and searching for that unmissable pink. After a lot of blacks, greys and brunettes, you see her at the back of the crowd, walking in the opposite direction of the shelter-seeking throng. She's stopped at a bus stop about half a block down, but refusing to seek its shelter like the others as torrents cascade to the earth, disguising her uncontrollable sobs. You wonder how many times she's done that this week, or at least in public. Her hair, cardigan and top, lifeless jeans and ruined plimsolls drenched through, but she doesn't seem to care. You run a hand through your hair, sweeping those defiant locks out of your vision in irritation. She seems to have stopped crying and held her head up. She shaking now, coughing again, rubbing her wrists, still mumbling, rubbing her face in what seems to be an attempt to shake herself out of some sort of daze, massaging her eyes and temples.

A few deep breaths later and she turns her head subconsciously in your direction. Her extensive hair flying behind her, shorter strands clinging to her face. As soon as she spots you, she draws in a quick breath. You step forward yet she steps back, shaking her head furiously. Your eyebrows knit into a frown at her reaction. Earlier, she was begging for your help, now she rejects it. You don't understand. She confuses you further as she smiles empathetically at you. You think you see her eyes well up again as she spins around and runs away as safely as possible with out slipping up.

You watch her go. Her bubblegum hair flapping around behind her. You made a promise to yourself. You promised tomorrow night you would approach her. Buy her dinner. Give her some money for the week. Make her laugh for the first time in her life. Make her smile a real smile. Or even just talk to her. Let her confide in someone. You quietly resolve that you will definitely help her tomorrow. Somehow.

You promised.

But little did you know that it was the last you would see of her.


A/N: Sorry it's a bit long but this is the build up to the climax of the last chapter and I wanted to get it all in one shot.

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Roux xxx