At first glance of the report, Sakura wasn't clear on why this large group of children was transported all the way from Suna to Konoha. Sex trafficking of minors, unfortunately, was a problem within all seven nations. Yes, she had the largest children's mental health clinic, but she had overseen the creation of Suna's clinic, which was the second largest in the seven nations. She didn't understand why Gaara would make these children endure additional travel through the harsh desert after the trauma they no doubt had already encountered.
She glanced at the notes again, trying to discern what she was missing. The observations were rudimentary at best, written quickly as the group had been cleared to enter Konoha's gates. She noted their approximate ages, which ranged from as young as 5 to as old as 12; a headcount indicated there were 13 of them (goodness, so many); their state of dress and hygiene seemed decent; and they were very, very scared of men.
"Yeah, no shit," Sakura muttered as she took in the last comment. She closed the file; she was going to examine them for herself and then have one of her assistants create charts for each of them. She needed a better idea of both their physical and emotional states before she could begin to formulate a treatment plan. She could only hope their ages indicated they hadn't been in the underground system for very long.
With a sigh of regret at the state of some things even peace time, Sakura stepped down the quiet hallway where new intakes were held. She could see Shizune standing outside their largest intake room, and quickened her pace to meet her.
"Sakura, I think you need to brace yourself," Shizune whispered, eyes glassy. "The children, they're—" her voice seemed to catch in her throat.
Sakura frowned and pushed the door open. She wasn't sure what to expect then; she had never seen Shizune so affected. She glanced inside, noting the group of children huddled together on the far side of the room, their eyes wide with a surprise that must have been mirrored in her own gaze. Distantly, she felt the folder in her hand slip from her grasp and heard it slide against the tiled floor.
Each and every child in the room had pink hair.