"Aw, look at him. Isn't he so cute?"

Go fuck yourself, newborn Haruno Momo gurgles bitterly. Who you callin' cute? Sure as shit ain't me.

"His name is Momo, right? After his hair?"

Kill yourself, Momo replies blithely.

"Yeah! He's a week old now!"

"Awh, so cute! And look at little Sakura-chan! They're adorable!"

Ugh, Momo eyes his older twin skeptically. Ew. That thing again.

Momo would deny to the end of his days that he was in any way related to Haruno Sakura.

Once the dumb bitch who dared call him cute left him alone, he contentedly closed his eyes.

In a world of magic ninja and weird shit, the only thing you can rely on is death— ah, wait, there's that one magic thingy that did shit.

Momo's cheeks puffed out minutely. Fuckin' weird shit. The one thing you can rely on is sleep.

Learn English, Momo gurgles.

Asian apricots, Sakura gurgles back.

Dumb shit, Momo says.

Moon chicken wings in sandy tub, Sakura babbles.

Jesus fuck, learn to speak, Momo replies. He adds; Hello.

Penis tong.

No, I said HELLO.

Banana circus!

Dumb bitch.

Lava chocolate.

Just… Shut up.

"Mama! Momo's being a poopy head!" whines three-year-old Sakura.

"Snitches get stitches, Sakura," Momo sniffs in response before continuing his vehement denial of Sakura's existence.

"MAMA! Make Momo play with me!"

"Momo, play with your sister!"

Momo crinkles his nose. "Bitch, no! That's like asking me to play with garbage!"

"Momo! Language!"

Oh, go suck a dick, Momo thinks as he army-crawls under his bed, then pulling a pillow under to block his sight of that pink little shit.

Under the bed were a flashlight and a sketchbook where he'd either jot down relevant things he could remember from his past life or draw gruesome corpses.

"MAMA, MOMO WENT UNDER THE BED—!"

"SNITCHES GET STITCHES, BITCH!"

"Egg donor, don't forget the trash," Momo reminds his mother as he picks up his bag for the first day of the Academy.

"Don't call your sister trash," Mebuki chides.

"That's like not calling the devil Satan," he mutters.

"Who's Satan?" Sakura asks, after finally choosing her outfit.

"You," replies Momo. "Are you sure you even wanna be a ninja?"

"YEAH!" replies Sakura enthusiastically. "I'm gonna be the strongest ninja ever and save the world!"

Shit. Propaganda got to her.

Momo's eyes narrow. "It's really hard, y'know. Even if you pass the graduation test, you might get killed immediately. Who knows, maybe someone will cut your tongue out while interrogating you, or maybe you'll lose a leg or to. Ah, those Kiri nin are very vicious, ya know? Who knows, they might rip your eyes out and make you eat them."

Sakura dropped out the next day.

"Hey you! Pinky!" says a blonde brat—Ino. Ugh, of all the—

"Are you a boy or a girl?"

Momo freezes. "Bitch, what?"

Ino's face scrunches up. "HEY! Don't be rude! I was just wondering, because your hair is pink, and your name is Momo—"

"Hey, what's up with my name!?"

"Well, nothing, it's just a really cutesy name. And, you just look girly."

"I am a fucking boy. Bitch, I got fuckin' balls, and male privilege!"

There was nothing wrong with being a girl. It's just... His fragile male ego.

That small interaction started a strange rivalry.

"Excuse me, do you need help?" Inoichi asks the boy who was browsing through his flowers.

"Yeah, actually, I'm buying flowers for your daughter," Momo replies candidly.

Inoichi smiles. "Oh? What are you looking for?"

"I need some flowers that really scream go fuck yourself and die in a fire."

He leaves with a bouquet of red spider lilies, freesias, ericas, orange lilies, and some dead leaves.

It looked disgusting.

He loved it.

"What's your name, man? Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton," Momo sings without shame.

Shikamaru stares as the kid in his class begins to chant rhythmically in gibberish.

"And there's a million things I haven't done—hey, you! What the shit are you staring at!?"

Shikamaru scurries away quickly.

Momo harrumphs. "Fuckin' brat, ruining my song—WHAT THE FU—!"

"I AM SO SORRY. I DID NOT MEAN TO COLLIDE WITH YOU! IN REPENTANCE I WILL DO TWENTY-FIVE LAPS AROUND KONOHA ON MY HANDS!"

Momo blinks slowly at the green spandex wearing a child with frightening eyebrows. Lee, his mind supplies.

"Bitch, what the fuck are you talkin' about?" Momo can't help but blurt. "That bullshit is a little fucking intense. Go bug some other asshole, this one's busy."

And he was busy planting meadowsweet, geraniums, foxgloves, and yellow carnations to go along with his spider lilies and orange lilies. He liked to call it the Fuck You garden.

"Now, now! That is very UNYOUTHFUL language!"

Oh, fuck, another one.

"What is this, some sort of cloning sequence? Now leave me the fuck alone, ya crackheads," Momo says in reply.

And then he's picked up by the green bitch and taken for multiple laps around Konoha and listens to lectures about YOUTH.

Shikamaru stares warily at Momo, who was napping on his desk.

Momo was cute, with chin-length pink hair and big round chocolate eyes. He has milky skin and often wore clothes that dwarfed him, which just emphasizes his small stature.

Momo's head turns to Shikamaru, eyes still sleepy. "Yes?"

Shikamaru blinks, not expecting Momo to speak without cussing anyone out. "Nothing," he replies, instead refocusing on the teacher.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Momo asks Sakura, gesturing at her fabrics and needles.

Sakura flushes, averting her eyes. "S-Sewing. I wanna start a clothes store when I'm older."

Momo blinks, before splitting his face in a grin. "Yo! That's cool! I could never sew, can't sit still long enough, y' know."

Sakura pauses at Momo's positive response. "You approve?"

Momo snorts. "Yeah, but my approval means jack shit. You do whatever the fuck you want."

Sakura nods. "Fuck yeah!"

"Language!"

"I don't wanna hear that from you."

Momo stares at Sasuke, who was being a little bitch.

Really, just beating the shit out of people, being an asshole with his inferiority/superiority complex. It's fucking annoying.

"Oi, ding dong! Quit being a fuckin' pussy," Momo tells him eloquently.

Sasuke glares at Momo like he's the embodiment of Satan, which...yeah.

"You're fuckin' annoying, with that pussy-ass attitude of 'oh shit I'm weak but I'm better than you'! Bitch, it's getting pretty fucking old, get a new thing! There ain't enough room in this class for another asshole, hear me?"

Sasuke just tries to punch Momo, which he deflects with ease.

Momo was proficient in taijutsu; with his personality, it was impossible not to get punched at least once a week. That, and he actually paid attention in class because he wants to be a fucking badass mofo when he's older.

Then Momo accidentally breaks Sasuke's nose.

What the fuck? Isn't this dumbass supposed to be the best ninja brat or something?

"Snitches get stitches," Momo informs Sasuke, before running the fuck away.

He punched a clan kid—he wasn't going to touch that punishment with a ten-foot pole.

Last week, Ino left some orange lilies and petunias on his desk.

Momo replies with some candy tufts and yellow carnations.

It somehow became habitual to communicate through flowers.

Ino says he'd look good with long hair.

Momo disagrees.

He grows it out anyway.

Mizuki's a grade-A bitch, Momo decides as he downs another bottle of sake he wrangled from a guy in the red-light district.

It marked another month.

Another month is dead.

Another scar.

He crinkles his nose at the cheap alcohol but it was something. He broke the now-empty bottle before grabbing one of the shards.

(He hates it here, he wants to go home but he can't—Sakura—he made his choice)

He drew a line in blood on his arm, joining the other hundred and thirty-three.

(Another, and another, and another, how many more until he's gone?)

Another month, another line.

(Please, no more.)

He cuts deeper than he should

(He doesn't want part of this twisted story.)

The next day, he's put on a team with Naruto and Sasuke.

(He owes this world nothing.)