AN: in response to some reviews, the name "Menma" is linked to Naruto's state of mind and character development. It is going to stay for a while.

The day Naruto Uzumaki died was the day Sakura Haruno's obsession over Sasuke Uchiha shattered like glass. She used to find the raven-haired, dark-eyed and pale-skinned boy physically attractive. What was more, her childish mind had interpreted his - obvious in hindsight - psychological issues for maturity. Above all else, his refusal to engage in any kind of exchange allowed her to project her fantasies upon him. As a result, for Sakura, Sasuke had been the ideal and idealized target of her love. She had not been alone in that anyways, most of her female classmates deluding themselves in the same fashion. From the collective fantasy had emerged an absurd situation of the girls constantly challenging one another in an attempt to attract the Uchiha's attention, much to said boy's displeasure and indifference. But little girls who crush on little boys are about as blind as moles and they took the Uchiha's utter disdain for shyness. Admitting that he felt nothing but disgust towards them would have been a blow that their ego had not been ready to survive.

Even when she, along with Naruto, had been placed in a four-ninja cell with Sasuke under the command of jounin Kakashi Hatake, Sakura had continued to pursue the boy in a manner that came close to harassment. Meanwhile, her behaviour towards her other teammate had been less than desirable, a result of ingrained habits implanted during her entire childhood. Naruto had always been the boy no one should approach, under threat of punishment. Naruto was the bad apple, the delinquent, the academy dunce. Naruto was annoying, loud and stupid. Naruto ought to be disregarded; it was how Sakura had been taught. It was how everyone treated the boy. She was not special, she was just like everyone else. Worst, her fantasy had veiled her eyes as to the reality of the life of a ninja and she had quite nearly paid the price of such foolishness several times. She would have been dead if it weren't for Naruto.

That it had taken the murder of one teammate by the other for her to realize that Sasuke was little more than a revenge obsessed hobo who would disregard anything and anyone in his quest for revenge was something Sakura had yet to forgive herself for. Sakura should have been nicer to Naruto. He had shown his worth time and again but, in her mind, he could never be better than Sasuke. It had been axiomatic but she should have gotten rid of such a mindset. She should have taken her training seriously much earlier. She had tentatively bettered herself but it had never proven enough. She should have seen that what she called love was a ridiculous infatuation born from her own insecurities; when her main preoccupations were her bubblegum pink hair and her too large forehead. Sasuke had issues, yes, but it was not the role of his teammates to pay for them. Hindsight, as they said, was always twenty-twenty. She had thrown herself in training, under her sensei and under the guidance of Tsunade Senju herself. She had climbed through the ranks of Konohagakure, earning tokubetsu-jounin status in less than three years.

It was the reason why, when she received in the early morning a summon from the Hokage telling her that Naruto was alive, Sakura had first readied herself for a self-assigned assassination mission. She would go rogue afterwards. It then occurred to her that if anyone loved Naruto more than her, it was the Hokage. Sakura read the summon over twice more before she decided it was not a prank done in extremely bad taste. Naruto was back, or so said the message, but without his memories, which made him Naruto yet not. He went by Menma now apparently. The address made her smile, slightly: so very Naruto-like to choose another ramen ingredient as his name, she thought.

Opting for a pair of biking shorts and a red qipao instead of her tactical gear, she observed herself for a moment in her mirror. A smirk played on her lips; she was not one to brag but she looked fine. Relentless training and a proper diet had given her the lean, perfectly toned body she had always dreamed of. She would have liked to be slightly bustier but she had legs to kill for so that would do. She tied her hitai-ate in order to hold back her mid-length pink hair so that her forehead and green eyes were framed by her cut. She put on high boots and slipped a pair of meshed gloves, plated with scales of prgrssv-steel. Those gauntlets were her only weapons, made to size, and she did not go anywhere without them anymore.

Sakura left her small apartment - she had decided to leave her parents' place and spread her wings about a year ago. She found herself on a catwalk suspended to the side of a large block of flats. The entire facade was covered by creeping plants of various sorts that engulfed a network of delicate bridges, balconies and arcades made in wrought iron. Without much thinking, the teenage girl circulated chakra from the sole of her feet into the facade, immediately sticking to it as a result. With the nonchalance of practice, she began a gravity-defying walk of seven storeys before she jumped on a low nearby roof. From there, the street lamps, electrical posts and trees made for a perfect road towards the Hokage mansion. Allowing her chakra to merge with her muscles, Sakura flickered from one spot to the next, as fast as a swallow in flight. In a matter of minutes, she reached the Red Tower, occasionally swerving around the platforms to avoid crashing against other ninja.

The Hokage mansion was a relatively modest house built according to an outmoded plan with old-fashioned techniques. Sakura greeted the invisible ANBU guarding the perimeter with a twist of her chakra and a quick salute. In front of the entrance, the pink-haired girl found her captain, seemingly rooted in place.

"Kakashi-sensei. Hello."

The man turned on his heels and Sakura almost recoiled. Despite the face mask covering the lower half of his features and his hitai-ate worn as an eyepatch over his left socket, she could still see how harried the jounin looked. His one visible eye was haggard, darting left and right, shining with fear. His spiky white hair was even more of a mess than they usually were. He had probably received the same news as she did and given his look, Sakura surmised he had not taken it well. Not that she had. Gently, slowly, she rested a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"It's going to be okay, sensei."

She spoke firmly, with a steady voice and focused eyes. She ignored the pit that was deepening in her guts, the cold sweat creeping up her spine and the sudden weakness she felt in her legs. It was going to be okay. She was going to be alright. Kakashi Hatake nodded, a wobbly smile wrinkling the elastane of his mask. The man swallowed thickly and shook himself, much like a dog.

"Yes. Of course." He slowly faced the entrance again. "Thank you, Sakura."

She smiled. "No problem." She breathed, in and out, and placed her hand on the doors of the mansion. "Let's go."

Slowly, the doors opened, unlocked by Sakura's chakra.

When Menma woke up, it took him a few moments to remember where he was. His futon was outrageously comfortable, the duvet weighed just the right amount upon him and warmed him up perfectly and so he decided that there was no need to panic, something one of his unshackled stretches of awareness informed him was completely irrational. After eventually getting himself out of his bed, he quickly straightened the sheets and the mattress before performing some light ablutions and donning his clothes. Dressed and refreshed, he decided to explore the mansion and, mainly, find the kitchen. He happened upon Tsunade, long since up and already drinking some tea while perusing a few papers.

"Hello, Tsunade-san."

She smiled. "Hello, Menma. I didn't think you'd wake up so early. You'll excuse me if I'm a bad host: duty calls."

The young man chuckled. "That's partly why I would never accept that amount of responsibilities. Would you like me to cook something?"

Tsunade seemed surprised for a second; she then gestured for him to do so, her eyes on a report. "Feel free, if you can find enough ingredients to put something together."

"Heh, I'll manage."

Manage Menma did, fishing in the well-stocked fridge to prepare a few dishes. Cooking had a slowness to it, yet was demanding enough that he could busy a sizable fraction of his awareness on it. It left the rest available for reflection, which the young man used to let his mind wander. The repetitive motions of the knife chopping up vegetables and filleting fishes relaxed him. His free line of thoughts, inevitably, focused on the upcoming meeting he would have later in the morning. Questions, useless as there was no way he had the answer, whirled in his mind. Who would he meet? What would they be like? Would they remember him? Care that he was not who he had been? Be upset that he was an imposter? Happy that someone was back? He allowed his thoughts to rage and swirl and, little by little, they left. The worm fell silent. Much like the prairie after the rain, his mind felt clean and fresh. Throughout all that, he successfully prepared a large breakfast that he deposited on the table Tsunade was working on. The woman, nose titillated by the smells, looked up from her documents and gaped.

"Holy crap, gaki! You can cook?!"

"I learned during my recovery, I'd have gone crazy otherwise. I can do simple things. Please help yourself, I made enough," answered Menma, motioned at the dishes laid on the table: simple rice, some soup, grilled fillets, bite-sized chunks of tofu and a few other delicacies.

"Well, don't mind if I do."

"You don't have a cook? As the Hokage, I mean."

"Yes, but I gave him the day off. I thought it would be better." She answered before she popped some fish in her mouth. "Mhm, Menma, that's nice!"

"Thanks." Menma shrugged. "Let's say I'm repaying you for hosting me. And the food was in your fridge. And I don't care. So, win-win."

Tsunade grinned. "Sounds like a plan.

"So. Who am I meeting today?"

The woman chewed on some rice before answering. "I contacted Naruto's two teammates."

Menma nodded slowly and suddenly blinked. "Two?"

Tsunade's face fell into a sombre mask. "Yes. Two. The third one… well. He is quite likely the one who… killed you."

"Oh. Alright. Not really a subject to be discussed during breakfast."

Silence fell on the pair. Menma, not being one for awkward lulls, cleared his throat.

"Anyways. What's their name?"

"Kakashi Hatake was Naruto's captain and teacher. Sakura Haruno was his teammate."

Menma mulled the names. His eyes widened. "Kakashi Hatake… as in, this Kakashi Hatake?"

"Depends what you mean?"

"The white hound? The student of Minato Namikaze?"

"Yes. How come you know his name?"

"I try to keep myself informed of who is dangerous. Like it or not, ninja dominate this world and you have to know who they are."

Tsunade arched one of her fine eyebrows. "And you didn't know about me?"

Menma blushed and nervously scratched the back of his head. "Well." He chuckled but it was choked. "I knew Tsunade Senju is the Hokage but… you're supposed to be fifty. So, honest, I thought you were an assistant when I first saw you."

Tsunade's left eye was imperceptibly twitching. "I don't know if I should punch you or take it as a compliment."

"Ah!" Menma raised his hands in surrender. "Definitely as a compliment. And I'm your guest! You wouldn't hurt your guest!" He smiled awkwardly. "Right?"

The woman gave him a crooked grin. "Right. I thought you were confident in your ability to escape S-rank ninja?"

"I am. I'd prefer to leave you on good terms, that's all."

"Cheeky brat. That hasn't changed, at least."

"Ha ha ha! I carry it how I carry it."

"Yeah."

"Say?"

"Yes?"

"You said yesterday that Naruto was the one who convinced you to become Hokage… do you mind telling me more?"

The pair had discussed at length the day before but had kept their exchange surface level. Menma, however, was curious ever since the woman had let it slip that his past self had "saved" her.

Tsunade lay down her report and stared off, a small smile on her face. Menma wilted before the impossible shriek of loss that tore through his subtle sense. Hurriedly, he clamped down on his chakra, reeling it in as fast as he could but not fast enough that some minimal part of the woman's grief became his.

The young man cleared his throat once more, tight from sorrow. "It's okay if-"

"During the last war, I lost my lover and my little brother, the last of my family. I had been advocating for a military medical program to be put in place but the Sandaime Hokage denied it."

"Oh. That… sounds stupid."

Tsunade smiled wryly. "Not enough resources, or so he used to tell me."

Menma shrugged. "I'm no specialist of grand strategy, but a balance-tipping project like field medicine is typically the type of program you make the resources for."

"Anyways. I implemented it now. But by then, without rapidly available care, they died. I spiralled into depression and left the village." She grimaced. "I resented Konohagakure. I resented the Sandaime. I blamed them for their death. I blamed myself for not... not pushing hard enough. Not being with them. I couldn't stay here."

Menma nodded.

"I spent…" - she scoffed - "years prowling the region, drinking myself stupid and gambling. Then, three years ago, Konohagakure was attacked by Suna- and Otogakure. Hiruzen Sarutobi died and my teammate, Jiraiya, left with Naruto to fetch me."

"I imagine you weren't exactly enthusiastic."

Tsunade laughed slightly. "No, no I definitely wasn't. But a chubby-and-whisker cheeked brat talked some sense into me when I said being Hokage was a fool's errand. You-Naruto admired them, he wanted the position. Not entirely for the right reasons but he had genuine respect for those who wear the hat. He was very much like my little brother. He told me I was a disgrace and I was disrespecting the memories of those I had lost. We shared some heated words, I reacted not quite like a woman my age should react. To make it short, we made a bet and I lost."

Her overwhelming grief having been replaced by fondness and his empathetic perception not being violently yelled at, Menma relaxed and chuckled with Tsunade.

"It sounds like past me was a real brat."

"Oh, he definitely was. He had guts though. More than brains but guts nonetheless."

The young man smiled wide. "I see." He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath as he leaned back on his seat. "Thanks for telling me all this. I could tell it wasn't easy." He straightened and looked at Tsunade. "Well, I'm glad you and Naruto found one another." His gaze fell. "And… sorry."

The woman blinked. "Sorry? What for?"

Menma sighed, his eyes searching for something on the floor. "Hearing you speak so… fondly about him, I…" He felt his throat tighten. "I feel like a fraud. Like I took him from you all."

Tsunade leaned over the table and grabbed his hand and when she spoke, it was with unmovable conviction. "Don't say that. You are you. No matter your name. I trust in that. You just have to discover yourself again."

Suddenly, Menma understood the depth of the affection the woman held for him, unconditionally. Beyond her words, he heard the purity of her sentiments, the clarity of her intent, how they sang of complete belief in him. He could hear it through the link they already shared, humming low but strong, a link that was steadily growing stronger. It was a bond spun out of love and trust and no matter what he would do and who he would decide to be, Menma knew it was too late to sever it. He had his place in her heart from the very beginning. She had finally found hers in his.

Untrue, whispered the worm treacherously. His chakra, Naruto's chakra, had recognized her when his memories had not. The bond did not belong to him but to his past self. The young man clamped down hard on the vicious thought, relegating the stretch of awareness that was entertaining it to the back of his mind.

The young man gave Tsunade a wobbly smile. "I see. Thanks. I'll try to keep it in mind. I think… I like past me. Though I'll add some brain if you don't mind."

Tsunade guffawed earnestly. "Ha ha ha, please go ahead! You clearly needed some control over your mouth! And your brashness was a bit much, honestly!" She blinked. "Sorry, I meant-"

Menma waved the slip of the tongue away, not letting his discomfort show. "That's okay. Honestly, it's strange as hell but… I suppose it was still me, even though I can't remember it. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone."

"I didn't mention it yesterday but… the Yamanaka are a clan that specializes in the study of the mind and spiritual chakra. If you'd allow it, one of them could try and see if your memories are somehow accessible."

Menma grimaced, not enthused at the idea of someone searching his thoughts. Tsunade was trustworthy, yes and every atom of his being knew it. It did not mean the men and women under her orders were.

"I'll pass for now. I, err, prefer the soft method."

Tsunade smiled reassuringly. "No problem."

Suddenly, a bell rang somewhere, causing the pair to stand.

"Ha. Our guests are here. Sakura has access to this place. She is my apprentice, you know? A pretty talented girl, but don't tell her I said that."

"Sure, my lips are sealed," Menma answered

His mind was partly elsewhere. He was carefully reeling in his chakra around him, limiting the range of his empathetic perception but at the same time protecting himself from overwhelming emotions. He had nearly been knocked out yesterday from the strength of the Hokage's feelings. He supposed his old teammates would feel just as strongly. He was proven right when a tall, white-haired man and a pink-haired girl stepped inside the living room. His precautions, however, weren't enough.

The guilt, the relief, the disbelief, the rage: they howled at him like dire wolves, melding the harmonics of his chakra in one white, mind-curling, discordant scream. They ploughed through him like a roaring firestorm, a growling tsunami, streamed in his tenketsu like liquid iron. The storm speared through his heart like a scalding-hot blade, almost obliterating his sense of self. He was left with a single coherent thought, a certitude, a knowledge seared in his flesh. He knew these two people. He might have forgotten them but his chakra remembered better. His knees buckled and his vision blurred. Something hot and salty streamed down his cheeks. He stumbled back and gripped the side of the table. Vaguely, he could hear someone asking him something.

He was a man, a white hound, and guilt flowed like black tar in his veins. He had failed the Son, he had lost the Son, he had killed the Son, had armed the arm of the one who had felled the Son with his own blade of lightning. He was a girl, a fresh young plant, and anger poisoned her roots. She had admired the traitorous one, she had ignored the steadfast one, she had by all appearances abandoned him, hurt him, and had never set the record straight. He-She did not believe that the Son-steadfast one was back. He-She had mourned him yet he was in front of him-her, alive!

Someone embraced him with forceful yet shaking arms. They coiled themselves against him and hugged, as hard as they could, as if they sought to fuse their two beings into one. Beyond his shattered control, his chakra reached out and brushed against a lake of emerald waters in turmoil, boiling under the branches of a sakura tree shaken by a tempest. Slowly, ever slowly, out of a habit that was not his, he spun a veil from his chakra as he regained his bearing and spread it over the lake and the tree. He hugged back.

"It's really you," he heard, in a distant whisper. "It's really you."

Menma blinked. His blue eyes were met with the greenest, brightest emerald gaze he had ever seen. Chakra sang the purest tone he had ever heard. Sakura Haruno was in his arms; meanwhile, his heart fell in hers, though he was too dazed to fully realize it. He smiled. He looked up from Sakura and met Kakashi Hatake's gaze, who grabbed his right shoulder.

"I… welcome back."

"Y-yeah." Menma chuckled, his mouth dry. Gently, he traced circles against Sakura's back, who had buried her face in the crook of his neck. He could feel her mortification at her action. "I don't mind, you know," he mumbled low.

Slowly, the teenage girl let go of her old teammate, who smiled at her. It was as she remembered; it felt like a dream all the same. When he smiled, he seemed to radiate warmth. This time, however, there was something different. His lips parted in an easier grin than his old face-splitting one. They looked scorched by the sun yet full. His eyes narrowed but did not close completely, leaving the burning blue of his iris to shine through. If anything, the crimson dusting Sakura's cheek darkened further.

"Hi. My name is Menma." He greeted, his voice slightly shaky. His breath had caught in his throat when he had peaked at the girl's flushed visage. "Though, you used to call me Naruto."

Sakura would later insist she had not swooned at the rolling baritone of his voice. It took a few seconds before she came back to the present and chuckled. "That's so weird." She slapped a hand on her mouth. "Sorry."

Menma ignored the painful clenching of his chest. "That's alright. I can imagine it is. Should we sit down?"

"Let's. We have… we have things to say."

Once the four of them were sitting around the table, Menma proceeded to rapidly tell the two newcomers about himself: how he had escaped the clutches of death but lost his identity in the process, perhaps as a price for his rebirth. How he had been healed by a saviour that he once again refused to identify.

"It took you three years to heal?" Sakura asked, taking his right hand in her impulsively.

Menma shook his head. "No. I was actually up and moving pretty quickly. I lived with the one who saved me, worked with him, trained with him." His voice died off. "With no sense of who I was… he was my anchor. I couldn't have left for Konohagakure earlier even if I wanted to." He swallowed forcefully. "I was no one and… I was afraid." He scratched the back of his head.

Sakura nodded and squeezed the boy's hand; she was offered a smile in return, one that made her belly churn. She did not give it any conscious attention, her mind too preoccupied with trying and failing to picture waking up one day without a shred of identity. How lost he must have been, she mused. Her thoughts were interrupted as Menma took up his story once more.

"Following the counsel of my master, I sought to build myself up. I only asked him for a name and he called me Menma. But… it wasn't enough. Every time I felt like I was achieving something, some form of… of who I am, it would escape me, as sand flows from splayed fingers. As I was strong enough, I departed for Konohagakure." He shrugged and gave a strained smile at his audience. "And, here I am, I guess."

"Your master?" Tsunade asked.

"Ha." The teenage boy scratched his head sheepishly. "The one who saved me taught me a lot of things so I call him master. He doesn't like it but it wouldn't feel right not to show some kind of respect."

"What did he teach you?" Sakura hazarded, both genuinely curious about what her old teammate had learned and eager to shift the conversation to lighter subjects.

Menma smiled and this time, it was soft and relaxed and it lit his eyes with a warm spark. "Lots and lots! For some reason, I still knew how to read and write but he taught me mathematics, he told- made me read books that we would discuss afterwards, he showed me how to garden and how to cook and also to meditate."

Sakura choked. "Y-you? Learning mathematics?!"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, let's say you weren't of the academic sort," interjected Kakashi.

"Ha! I can imagine. It was hard at first but Master taught me how to frame my perceptions!" Menma revealed excitedly. "It's difficult because I naturally tend to give everything an equal amount of attention and my mind would scatter trying to keep up with everything. Now, I can focus on no more than five things simultaneously."

The three ninja blinked and shared a glance with one another.

"Five things… simultaneously?" Tsunade asked, hiding the concern she felt as best as she could.

Menma frowned, having heard the chords of worry in each of their hearts. "Yeah. I know it's still not perfect but-"

"No, no, no, Menma," interrupted Tsunade. "You're describing classic symptoms of C.H.S."

"C… C.H.S?"

"Chakra Heightened Sensibility," said Sakura with a frown of her own. "That's not normal!" She exclaimed suddenly. "It's a rare condition but it's supposed to be systematically scanned for in the Academy! Why wasn't Naru-Menma reported?!"

It was no wonder the blond boy had been so obnoxious, she thought, shame gnawing at a corner of her heart. Never mind not having a family to raise him, he had been constantly assaulted by an overload of sensations with no method to process them. When the slightest environmental input is uncontrollably fascinating, it's not that you do not pay attention: it's that you can't.

Sakura looked at Kakashi, and her teacher seemed like he had been slapped and wanted nothing more than to slap himself a second time, for good measure.

"But, what does it do?"

"It affects every level of your perception," explained Tsunade learnedly, slipping into a serious, doctor mode. "Basically, your sensations are heightened and the capacity of your brain to treat sensory information is heightened too. The bad part is, it keeps evolving when left unchecked and results in a severe attention disorder because, ultimately, humans can only process so much at once. People must be trained to establish filters." She suddenly snarled and jumped on her feet before she started pacing. "What was sensei doing!? He should have known, it's genetically transmissible!"

"Genetically?"

"Well, it's a chakra transmitted affliction but let's simplify and say the mechanics are similar," waved Tsunade, still pacing angrily.

"So… it's a bad thing?"

"Yes and no," assured Sakura. "Normally, people with C.H.S are trained to establish filters so that they can… well, attribute the processing power of their brain to the things that need it, focusing on two to three things at once, at most. Normal people can only focus on one thing."

"Only one?" Menma asked, gobsmacked. "That's amazing!"

Sakura was taken aback by the blond's exclamation only to realize that, indeed, to be able to focus on one single thing must have seemed amazing, considering his brain was constantly tasked with at least five.

"On the other hand, being able to fully think about more than one thing at a time often makes those people seem like geniuses." She continued with a light smile.

"Huh. Thanks, but I don't think I'm anything near a genius."

"It's not necessarily that you are more intelligent," corrected Kakashi, speaking for the first time. "It's that you think in parallel. You have one problem, you can in theory think of five solutions simultaneously and pick the best. People without C.H.S can only think sequentially. One solution after the other."

"Ha. That does sound like what I can do. One of the things that Master made me do to help me was solving many different equations at once."

Sakura chuckled. "Yeah. Nobody can do that, you know?"

"It's mostly annoying, you know? I mean, fighting to not constantly be on a swivel was exhausting. But well, it's all good now, I know how to kinda limit it."

"So, what are you thinking of right now? Apart from our conversation, I mean?" The pink-haired girl asked.

"Well, there is a nice spider-web in the top right corner; those are always solid distractions, the volutes of steam above the tea are interesting too and-" Menma blinked once before his feature abruptly adopted a crimson hue. "Nothing." He squeaked.

Sakura saw the boy blush and grinned. "Reeeaaally now?"

Menma looked at Tsunade then Kakashi and back at Tsunade. "A-anyway, where were we? I think you were asking about my training, right?"

The Hokage looked at him, then at Sakura and suddenly smirked before she lay a hand on Kakashi's shoulder. "Oh, I think that can wait. We're going to vacate the room and leave you with Sakura so you two can catch up."

Menma sent a pleading look to his erstwhile teacher but the man simply returned him an eye smile and rose to his feet.

"I'll see you both later," he greeted his past students.

Before the young man could further protest, Sakura and he were left alone at the table, the remnants of breakfast still littering it.

"So. What were you thinking about, mister whisker?"

Menma swallowed and looked askance, avoiding the girl's jade gaze. He breathed in deeply. And suddenly decided "what the hell, why not?". He knew his request was quite forward, at least from his perspective. At the same time, being someone without a past, every possibility seemed urgent to explore, every opportunity necessary to take. He was conscious of his fragility. He squashed a rush of guilt and silenced the worm calling him a thief. He was abusing a relationship he had inherited but did not remember! No! he mentally retorted, he was building it anew!

"Would you… mind going on a tour with me?"

"A tour?"

"Of Konoha. I don't know the place. Well, I knew but now I don't."

"Oh, of course. So, I'll be your guide? Sure, an outing is fine."

Menma swallowed. Scratching his temple, his eyes darted a look at the girl before hurriedly shifting sideways.

"I… was thinking… maybe more like a date?"

Sakura gaped at the young man for a second. Menma felt heat burn his face and panic chill his spine and he raised his hand in a placating manner.

"If you have some-"

The girl laughed, cutting him short. For a minute, she was shaken by peals of laughter, genuine amusement and happiness sounding from her chakra. Menma chuckled too; the girl's laugh was infectious.

"Well, this part of you hasn't changed," said Sakura once she recovered. "Though it has been a long time since you've asked me on a date."

Menma did not know what to think. She radiated mirth, contentment and fond exasperation.

"Sorry? Is… is that a no?"

Sakura bit her lips for a second, considering the question before she smirked. "Nah. I think it's a yes."

An: fluff. Or angst? But fluff, though. Feel free to leave a review.