Rated T for language. May increase in the future!


BUTTERFLY


one


The blonde boy stood completely and utterly still for fear that if he so much as breathed, he would wake up from this dream. Green—so damn green—it was like it wasn't even green. Oh man, was that even possible?

Seconds that felt like minutes passed till he finally made a noise. "Woah…" He regretted it immediately when it caused her to slip her glasses back on.

He snapped to attention as she stirred. Naruto, attempting to regain his scattered composure (and mask it for that matter), scurried over to her side with all the medical supplies he held.

Sakura's gaze followed him as he clumsily scampered to stand next to her. A fleeting chuckle passed through her head. He was kind of cute—in a ditzy, moronic way. Naruto didn't seem to notice the burden of her gaze yet, busy opening the ointment bottle and fiddling with the cotton balls.

The pinkette took that moment to truly scan his features. He was tall and masculine, blessed with sun-kissed skin the shade of a beachside tan. His eyes, though nervous now, were a shining cerulean—the epitome of where the sky meets the ocean. That impressive physique was topped with hair colored like a sunflower, bright and jolly.

He radiated waves of positivity and cheerfulness—a teenage boy, youthful and carefree still in the beginnings of his prime. It was then that something clicked. She unconsciously furrowed her eyebrows.

I've seen him before…

But where?

She mulled over that thought, not realizing that he finally felt the weight of her gaze.

The male, feeling her stare, looked over his shoulder briefly at the pinkette.

She appeared to be in deep thought, ignorant of him looking back at her. Though he was probably the single-most loudest person in all of Konoha, at this moment his lips were sewn shut.

Sure, her hair was some exotic shade he'd never seen before. But as of that moment, he wasn't entirely certain if it—or any of this, really—was real.

The true slap across the face were her eyes. Damn...

Those wide circles of green honestly looked like the deepest parts of the forests; the areas that received rain day and night, feeding the trees and birthing rich, lush foliage.

Yeah, that was it. That was what they looked like.

Currently though, they were covered, and he noticed that she was quite pretty overall—the kind of pretty that accompanied warmth and endearment, tucked in deep corners of the library and buried between pages of a novel. Soft, secretive.

It was a special kind of beautiful.

"...What year are you in?" He suddenly felt the need to ask something—anything—that would break the staring contest. Unfortunately, his prepubescent voice cracks decided to play. His speech was a little broken out of pure embarrassment, which grew when he realized he sounded like a twelve year old boy.

To his greater horror, he felt a little more self conscious when her critical gaze roamed across his shoulders, nervousness drenching his forehead.

Oh dear god, please let me live long enough to talk to this pretty girl without looking totally stupid.

Sakura parted her lips slightly to speak. "I'm a junior," she replied shortly. He recognized the sprinkle of hesitation in her tone.

Was she uncomfortable with him?

Sobered, he replied carefully.

"I'm a junior too," he said, finally calming his shaking hands as he handled the first aid equipment. He found the medical tongs and picked up a cotton ball with it, dipping it slightly into the burn ointment.

Sakura, seeing as he was prepared, peeled her knee high socks down to her ankle. She then extended her arm, reaching to take the tongs.

But the boy, instead of handing it over, knelt—grasping her ankle in a strong, gentle grip. He lifted the slim, pale leg slightly and turned it over a few degrees, searching for and spotting the reddened patch of skin along the side of her calf.

Out of sheer surprise, a sprinkle of pink crossed the pinkette's cheeks.

I-I could've done this for myself!

This position was a little...

Oblivious to the half-shrieks happening in her head, he mustered another handful of courage to introduce himself to the pink-haired enigma. With a grin, he offered his name. "I'm Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki," he said as he worked on dabbing the irritated area. He glanced up slightly beneath long lashes, the grin flashing along his lips again. "What's yours?"

She thought for a moment over whether or not she should give her name, but figured he was going through so much trouble just to fix her up. So—"Sakura Haruno."

It was only a fitting name, he figured, and familiar, too. He'd have to ask his dad later. Nodding this time in acknowledgement, Naruto finished off treating her wound with a bandage.

The blonde boy straightened back up and put the tongs down beside him, flashing pearly whites. "There we go, all patched up!"

She nodded in gratitude, inspecting the security of the bandages before dragging her sock back over skin. Sakura then stood off the table, brushing her skirt flat to straighten the wrinkled pleats.

Before anything though, the boy remembered the ramen broth on her white blazer. They showed like nasty tea stains and knew it would be near impossible to get it out (if his first hand experiences were anything to go by). Guilt tickled him as he thought of a way to make it up to her.

"Sakura-chan, can I do anything about the blazer? Maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow during break? Where do you usually sit?" he asked, holding her hand up in his fist. His eyes held a twinge of hopefulness. She visibly tensed, hesitating at the physical contact, but he pretended not to notice. "Please? We can even stop by the tailor and I can buy you a new uniform if you want!"

Eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

He did carry me all the way over here and treat me…

Yes, indeed.

After he said his name, she remembered precisely who he was. Rich, up in the top five percent alongside her. Wonderful parents, grand parties, and he was kind and loud and a little bit of a doof. He had good intentions—rare in that school.

Hell, he was offering to spend money on a uniform for her, which peaked at about a good two grand per set. That shit wasn't exactly cheap.

Should she take his offer?

She didn't really know. On one hand, there was comfort in being left alone. On the other...

He had good intentions.

She groaned internally. Dammit.

"Okay."


Getting ready for school the next morning wasn't the same. It was like waking in a new body, filled with new experiences, new expectations, and honestly? It wasn't a bad feeling. Dramatic as it was, the small fidgets were undeniable and it was all so...new?

And just...

scary.

Sakura had to catch herself several times—twice did she notice the extra minutes used on fixing her braid, three times spent spiffing up the uniform. In frustration, she yanked apart the elastic and re-twisted the french cord the right way and ignored the itch to mess with it further. Tying her ribbon a little too tight in irritation, she stepped out of the bedroom that morning in a daze.

Breakfast was a quiet affair; dad was probably in the office already and mom wasn't anywhere in sight (maybe in the gardens or something). That proved true when the blonde-haired woman stormed by to drop a sloppy kiss that left an odd smudge on the glasses before Sakura left, screaming about "azaleas needing to be entirely uprooted and moved."

Alright then...

Walking into the limousine followed by the ensuing silence was normal. Same with the early-bird thoughts.

Just... just with the addition of a sunflower somewhere there.


Mornings consisted of homeroom with Kakashi, up on the second floor in the west wing. The trek, like every other day, was filled with the hustle and bustle of school life. Prone to getting a little throttled around in the sea of students, our protagonist tended to stick by the sides, pressed into the walls to speed along faster.

There was the occasional nudge against the shoulder, or the snag of another purse on hers, but all-in-all, it was relatively normal.

The back of her mind tickled with anticipation for lunch hour, but it had to be ignored in favor of making it to class. Though chronically late was this teacher, Sakura still preferred being tucked happily in her assigned seat before someone else shuffled desks and chairs around to sit with their friends.

Finding the open door, she trudged inside and bumped slightly into someone standing past the threshold.

"Ah... I'm sorry," she apologized, clutching her textbook tighter. Lengthy strands of bistre moved aside, swaying with the head turning to look over the shoulder. Hyuuga-born moonshine eyes gazed down.

A look of ice was previously there, thawing into simple, passive stone. Then a short nod.

"No. I apologize," came the tenor of a male voice, before he side-stepped to make room. She peered at him, the red color of his ribbon indicating junior class, then simply shook her head to wave off his apology in favor of her own.

Inclining the head, she continued to walk, finding solace in the third row back, right beside a wide window.

"Neji?" was the new voice entering the barely populated room, but little Haruno cared more about opening up the pages of her binder, reorganizing papers for later classes.

Neji Hyuuga's snow-born eyes shifted away from pink, down to his cousin passing through the doorway. The young woman of navy-tinted hair furrowed her brows, fidgeting with the strap of her purse.

"What are you doing here?"

He paused slightly. "I was looking for Uchiha."

"Oh..." She rustled. "Um. He doesn't come for some time... Why?"

"We've a presentation today." And then he shook his head. "I'll talk to him later instead. Have a good day."

"Ah... y-you too-!" But he was already out the door.

Sakura observed this in detached silence, flickering between the departing Hyuuga and the current heiress. Sorting papers didn't take very long for an organized student such as her, so she settled for a nameless novel, peering above the pages at the newcomers now making their way into the room. By then, Hinata had since sat down.

Two came in, then three. Then another duo, then more. The Nara heir entered, flanked by Inuzuka and a guy in glasses—was that Aburame?

Pretty Ino Yamanaka passed, all golden-strung blonde and beach-kissed skin, taking great pleasure in topping one of the desks at the back, much to Inuzuka's great delight. And thus began the usual morning of shameless yet meaningless flirting.

Four more, then two, then another one, one, one—then came the youngest Uchiha. He swept by, all passive grace and beauty, finding his seat in the center back before the napping Shikamaru. Ino nudged away Kiba, who didn't look offended, and switched to take the rightside seat next to the raven-haired CEO-in-training.

Though he never deigned her with replies, he also never told her to leave like how he'd shoot away the hoards of admirers. Perhaps this, Sakura figured, was the extent of his toleration—that little fact that he surrounded himself with close, powerful people rather than the random guy or girl with extra bank. Other members of the top five percent, she'd realized some time ago—that was his entourage preference.

Sakura (the Observer) witnessed as the common banter of daily life fell back into place, like a jigsaw taken apart at the end of the day only to be renewed the next. Normalnormalnormalfamiliar was it all.

Kakashi came in, fifteen minutes late on the dot as per usual, blessing his students with a random, horribly made excuse before giving out the school newspaper as well as announcements for upcoming events.

The Hyuuga-hosted luncheon would occur next Saturday, where students and their parents were welcome to attend (a routine popularity contest where rich people sized each other up, played plastic games and established the start of connections in a casual brunch setting). There was some theater play, then a musical recital, and student body president nominations (although the elder, senior class Uchiha was already a shoe-in for office fourth year in a row).

These were the little things that followed the path of Sakura's schedule. Constant, conventional, prevalent—all that she could use to measure each passing day.

What wasn't part of the plan was an odd set of knocks on the door.

Kakashi paused in talking about which sports were in season and hosting intramurals and tryouts, sidling up to the door and pushing it aside. The principal's secretary—Shizune was her name, but Sakura wasn't completely certain—exchanged low whispers with him, then left with a short wave.

"Behave," was her distinct departing command, but a silly laugh only followed the short-haired woman—this, in a tone Sakura could recognize.

Suddenly, the anticipation for lunch hour reared its head right up front as in came the class newcomer.

Sunny smiles, bright baby blues and a sheepish grin took spotlight by the whiteboard, the junior clutching his bookbag over his shoulder while ruffling messy hair.

"Class," Kakashi drawled with a small, cheerful crinkle of the eye. "We've got a little addition to our wonderful family, hm? Probably pointless, but go on, introduce yourself."

"Naruto Uzumaki," he announced rather heartily, all pearly whites and radiance. The class broke out into greetings and laughs, all familiar with the Namikaze politician's son, and he reciprocated it with that charming, silly smile. "Transferee from Asuma-sensei's homeroom. Honored to be here."

Sasuke snorted somewhere, and Kakashi chose the seat on the other side of the Uchiha (the one unoccupied by Ino), and told him to sit there. The blonde boy saluted, throwing high fives to people as he passed. Popular and approachable was the blonde boy who looked like the walking version of the sun.

When he sat though, rather than immediately clapping his best friend on the back as intended, a cord of pink caught his eye.

Frankly, it was a lot like the world just damn well disappeared.


"-iot."

Naruto abruptly snapped his head up, a little confused. His best friend was giving him a weird look, arching one of those damned eyebrows while whisking through a geographic assignment for their social studies class with Yamato. While the Uchiha was now finished and menially skimming the textbook, Naruto had stayed hunched over his paper, doodling swirls all over the margins.

"What-"

Sasuke rolled his eyes and repeated, "Idiot." He then flipped his book close, bored. "What's with you?"

"What makes you think something's with me?"

A snort. "When isn't there?"

Naruto spluttered, jabbing his finger into Sasuke's shoulder. "Hey, what the hell are you implying?"

"What can I not imply when it comes to you?"

"Excuse me, Mister Asshole, who allowed you to—"

"Uzumaki!" Yamato snapped from up front, "I suggest you finish your own work before you go on bothering other students. Lord knows your grade could use today's extra credit assignment."

When laughter came from their peers, there was a muttered, "Sorry sensei," and then nasty blue glares were shot, all of which the young Uchiha deflected easily (it was a lot like swatting dust off his shoulders). In a more hushed tone—or at least as discreet as Naruto could possibly get—he carried on with, "What did you want, bastard?"

"I was asking if you're going to the Hyuuga event next week," Sasuke commented, scowling when his best friend threw a chunk of eraser at his knee. Could he be any more of a child? "I'm seeing him next period and might drop an RSVP for us if you are."

"Oh. Yeah, sure, thanks. I think my old man was talking about going, so yeah."

"Hn. So then at lunch we can—"

The bell rang abruptly and Yamato started hollering for people to drop their papers up front. Sasuke couldn't really finish his statement—what with Naruto scribbling down random words on blank lines, then whipping through his name at the top.

"Sorry asshole, I've got plans at lunch. But meet up after school, yeah? Later!"


It took a little effort, if he was being honest, to muster up the right amount of courage just to get to the damned lunch room. Passing between gold-inlaid double doors leading into the cafeteria (or more or less a "food court of gourmet dreams," as the Akimichi chefs working there would call it), our Uzumaki gent stood awkwardly in line for the gorgeous bowls of tonkotsu ramen, only partially present in reality.

The rest of him sat snug in the space of his head, wondering and worrying and outright nervous.

Hell— He combed through his blonde hair, sending a grin to someone passing a greeting. C'mon, Naruto, snap out of it! People's manyou're the people's man!

He wouldn't be called the town's friendliest, the town's sunniest, the town's son for nothing. Charming, but with a warm sincerity and endearing persona—own up to that! And besides... this wasn't even a business setting. Those were grounds for the "fidgets."

Talking to a super pretty girl who you've probably known all your life but never realized it (stupid, by the way), was definitely not the same thing.

So why the hell was he feeling his armpits get a little sweaty?

Tucking the nerves behind a well placed smile, he paid the cashier with his loaded student card, pocketing the thing and pivoting away. He passed his usual table (Sasuke came up from a conversation with Neji to send him a raised eyebrow), waving to his best friend but not stopping for a chat.

Instead, macho Uzumaki chose to swallow back the lump or two in his throat and threw open the double-doors leading to the quad.

It took a little exploring, but within ten minutes and his soup still blessfully warm between his fingers, Naruto found the back-path winding into the other side of the school. The number of students lessened and lessened until barely were in sight, and by the time he rounded the corner and walked between marble-stone columns, only one other entity existed.

The awkward lump in his throat returned when he saw blush-pink lying in a pretty french cord, draped over one shoulder while the other pinched a phone to its owner's cheek. The distracted Haruno had her glasses-clad eyes averted, lunch box in hand, speaking in hushed tones.

Only a few steps away was he when she hung up the device and caught sight of him.

She sat straighter then, awkwardly giving him a nod. He didn't even realize he'd been mid-wave until his arm fell limply to his side, a faint fluster creeping along the skin of his neck.

"Er... hey."

Hey? HEY? Foot, meet mouth.

"...Hi."

She shifted her lunch box to the side, scooting a bit to make room on the bench. With a little difficulty—and all of his previous enthusiasm from the day gone—Naruto sat down, fiddling between fingers a pair of wooden chopsticks and removing the circular lid on his tonkotsu ramen bowl.

Balancing with one hand, he began to dig in, savoring the flavor, the breeze, and beautiful company.

"...So." He coughed to hide a little choking when she paused to look. "Uh, so you come here often?"

Oh come on, can a blackhole just fucking eat me already

And then there was this laughter and dammit, the blush just came without his permission

"This bench or the school?"

He coughed again, forcing the growing blush down at the sound of her amusement. "...Both?"

She smiled thoughtfully, still looking at her food and picking apart meat. "Yeah. I eat lunch here every day." Loose pink hair was tucked behind a little, peach-colored ear. "...I've also attended the Konoha chain for some time now."

So that confirmed it—she'd been right under his nose this whole time.

"And you?"

"Er... well I mean this is my first time out here—I didn't even know there was a way ba—and you were talking about... the... school..." She looked to be fighting a laugh and he slapped his forehead rather loudly, balancing his meal. "I've been in the chain too. Since preschool."

"Preschool, hm?"

"Yeah. Did you go?"

"I skipped it."

"Aw hell, so you're one of those smart people, aren'tcha?"

She chuckled. "You could say."

"Bastard one and two also skipped. And Shika, I think. Actually—who didn't?"

"Kiba Inuzuka?" she offered, and he snapped eureka.

"Yeah! I remember that mutt. He always stole my damn animal crackers. When I tell you I was pissed—"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Ye—wait so that means you went to Konoha Elementary."

"And middle."

"Oh shit! Do you remember that super weird history teacher? That one that liked to wear a metric fuckton of weird patterns?"

"Kumiko-sensei?"

"Yeah! God that old lady was so weird."

"I'd know." And she grimaced a little jokingly. "I had her."

He glanced over, staring like she grew two heads, which quickly deteriorated into pity. "How can you still see?"

"Why do you think I wear glasses?"

Warmth bloomed in his chest just at the sight of her, and letting himself go (not that he even put up much of a fight), he threw his head back and laughed.

It was with a new kind of joy did he realize she'd gone ahead and done the same.


Okay my little fishsticks, on this day 11/23/18, I've gone ahead and re-upped this chapter. The last version kept rubbing me the wrong way so I figured some massively cute NaruSaku fluff was in order.

I've found inspiration for this and AAOP while writing up Glory, and then, woo boy do I have one other idea. I'm probably spreading myself thin keeping up with so many stories but c'mon, this is way too fun and we never know when another dry spell will hit, y'know?

Remember this story's pretty lighthearted. Nothing massive, no real bad drama. Just here for your viewing pleasure. Thank you!

- burrblefish