AN: Thank you for the kind reviews and thanks to all of the people who kudos-ed/bookmarked this little story! I'm so excited that people actually read what I post online, haha.

I'm currently looking for a beta-reader to look over my stories, so if you're interested or knows someone who might be interested in taking a look, hit me up. The Konoha Army needs YOU.

Location: On the road to Konoha Army Recruitment Center #9.

She's trudging down the road barefoot, with her straw sandals tied to the satchel on her back, when she comes across the caravan lying on its side in the middle of the road. The weather has been particularly fickle these past few weeks, and the roads are now always muddy and wet. After a few days of walking, the soft mud that oozes between her toes and smothers her feet hardens into what she can only describe as a brittle, shoe-like coating that makes it look as if she has bricks on her feet. Sakura's given up on maintaining any semblance of proper hygiene at this point, and the smell of wet earth and rotting vegetation now clings to her like a second skin. She's rolled up her loose yellow pantaloons (which she had filched from Naruto's dresser) knee-high in a futile effort to save them, but after a few more steps, she trips on something hard and sharp and falls on her ass. Her pants are now stained brown with mud; with her luck, she's pretty sure her burlap knapsack is the same color.

Well, fuck. There'd better be a pond or a lake somewhere nearby to wash the stains off her clothes. What she would do for a bath at an ōnsen, except it's impossible for two reasons: one was the absolute lack of bathing facilities in this godforsaken wilderness and the other the indisputable certainty that she would probably be mistaken as a pervert if she did go inside one. She would never be able to live it down, not with her distinctive pink hair. A growl rises deep inside her throat.

Naruto'd better be able to explain himself once she tracks him down. It's true that her adoptive brother has always had a rather peculiar sense of humor, but even he wouldn't dare to go so far as to desert the army as a prank, especially not when his father's life is on the line. So if that note two days ago is meant to be a joke, then, well. It's probably a good thing that nobody she's contacted so far has seen hair nor hide of him, because Sakura is not amused.

With dogged determination, Sakura picks herself up, dusts the seat of her pants (inadvertently smearing the dirt stains), and continues her slow journey to the army recruitment center that's the farthest from her hometown, on the other side of the capital; the less people who are aware of her identity, the better her chances are of enlistment. It's way out in the outskirts of the kingdom of Konoha, perilously near where the recent battles have taken place. No one dares to travel alone on the road during times of war nowadays; even the bandits avoid the roads near the Konoha-Uchiwa border, afraid of being caught in the crossfire. There hasn't been anyone else on this road in the three days she's been traveling on it, so to say that she is surprised when she happens upon the three men crowding around the upset caravan is an understatement.

She doesn't know what aspect of this situation perplexes her the most: the existence of other travelers besides her on this road, perhaps, or the butchered caravan, wooden wheels spinning idly in the air, goods strewn haphazardly on the road. Or maybe the fact that these men are just ridiculously good-looking.

"Hey! HEEEYYYY!" Hottie #1 calls out when he spots her figure, waving his arms in the air. He's taller than the other two, and there's just a little curl to his dark hair that's probably due to the humidity of the air. Hottie #2, with straight hair gathered in a ponytail and a face as white and blank as a nō-mask, is perched on top of the caravan. #3's picking up little ceramic jars that are miraculously still intact from the ground with a grimace on his perfect face that would probably be terrifying on another person, but just makes him look like he's constipated.

Sakura is suddenly acutely aware of her travel-soiled clothes and the days-old grime on her skin and unwashed, oily hair. She gawks at them stupidly, mouth open in a comic "O", before Hottie #1 barrels towards her with a desperate expression on his face.

"Please please please help us," he pleads, dark eyes wide. "This is all Sasu-chan's fault, believe me. Or maybe Ita-chan's fault, since Ita-chan's in charge of his little brother, but the fact of the matter is, we can't get this caravan out and we really need to get this order of hair products home by midnight or else Tou-san will get mad. Are you from these parts? Maybe you can help us find someone to-"

"Shisui. He doesn't look like he's from around here," Hottie #2 cuts in with a surprisingly deep voice that is not at all unpleasant. "And for the record, this is all because you tried to swerve right to avoid that puddle."

"Hmph. Shisui-baka." Hottie #3 chimes in, and Sakura swoons internally, because wow, #3 is by far the most beautiful person she has ever seen in her life. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall, slim build, fine bone structure. Probably from the capital. It's strange that someone with such aristocratic features would be hawking goods on the dusty road like any other trader, but Sakura definitely doesn't mind the eye-candy.

She belatedly realizes that Hottie #2 is talking to her because she's too busy salivating over his younger brother. She only manages to catch the last part of his sentence: "...help us?" It's hard to tell with #2's expressionless face, but he looks a little amused and flicks his eyes towards his brother, who is busy looking for salvageable merchandise that had fallen on the roadside after the accident. He had probably noticed her checking out his brother's ass.

"Oh yeah, I can help with the carriage. Move," she says offhandedly, absentmindedly eyeing the caravan. It should be fine now, since she's dressed as a boy and their current location is pretty far from her hometown. There's no one around now to reprimand her about her jeopardizing her eligibility as a proper, submissive wife. She doubts if there is anyone willing to marry her even if she tried, regardless. She'd stay an old maid forever if what she is about to do ever gets around to Uzushio, but at least it'll be for a good cause. Maybe she'll be lucky enough to get that #3 to smile at her if she managed to set the caravan upright. Or maybe all three of them.

There's a pregnant pause, and Shisui clears his throat. "Ah, we were thinking if you would be willing to help us find some other people around here who can help. It's impossible to move it with three people, and someone like you..." He trails off, but they all know what he is about to say. Sakura doesn't look very prepossessing, even on the best of days. To them, she probably looks like a prepubescent peasant boy with ridiculously colored hair who has no idea what he is saying.

Sakura scowls. "Do you have a problem?" She asks, smiling a little too sweetly. "I said that I can help, and I asked you to kindly move out of my way." Hottie #1 pales but doesn't budge. Rolling her eyes, Sakura neatly side-steps Shisui. At least the three of them had the presence of mind to unhitch the horses beforehand. The caravan is tilted on its side; one of the wheels is firmly stuck in the muddiest, deepest pothole in the road. Shisui is right: three strong men would definitely not be able to hoist it from the mud that bogged it down. It would be suicide for one person to attempt this feat.

That is, if the person in question didn't possess superhuman strength.

Sakura knows better than anyone that nothing would ever hide her distinctive hair, but Shisui refuses to take no for an answer. Despite her half-hearted protests, he pops into the newly upright caravan and brings out few bright neon packets that he stuffs into her hands.

"As thanks, here are some samples of our most popular product. Dark hair will definitely suit you, young master!" Shisui chirps. He's a little too eager to please, his smile a little too fixed. He's probably still feeling guilty about the slip-up from earlier. Shisui glances at the youngest. "Isn't that right, Sasuke?"

Hottie #3 glances at Sakura's hair and smirks. "Aa."

It's definitely not the case that she wants to please the boy, although the slight quirk of his lips does make her heart flutter for a second. She's definitely not thinking about Sasuke's smile. Or his eyes. Nope.

Shisui drops the smile as soon as the boy's back is turned. Eyes narrowed in thought, he watches him until the slight figure is engulfed by the fog.

"Permission to terminate the target, Captain?" Itachi murmurs behind him. He's already crouched, knives unsheathed, ready to go after the boy at the given signal. Shisui impatiently slaps his shoulder.

"Maa, maa, Ita-chan, let the boy be. He did just save us from a sticky situation. Besides, it just might make things a little more fun around here." he chuckles, and Itachi relaxes his stance.

"Should we let Kagami-sama know?" Sasuke asks from the driver's seat. Although Shisui holds seniority, Itachi and Sasuke have tacitly agreed not to let their cousin take over the reins under any circumstance after the morning's fiasco. Shisui hums.

"...No. Not yet." Shisui replies after a moment. "The boy is most likely not important, and Tou-sama will be displeased if we interrupt him with irrelevant findings. For now, focus on getting to the safe house."

"...Aa." Sasuke nickers to the horses, and the carriage moves smoothly...and abruptly veers off the road onto a hidden path in the forest. Within minutes, it's well on its way to the Uchiwa safe house near the border.

When Sakura sees the lake next to the sign that says "500m to Army Recruitment Center," she fumbles around in her pack and pulls out the packet of Ready2Go Hair Dye that Shisui had given her ("Be—oo—tiful dark hair in just seconds!").

She waits for the waters to still before peering hopefully at her reflection, and deflates once she catches a glimpse of her hair.

"…Yup. Knew it."

[7/2/18]: fixed formatting issues.