Expediting time, it's now lunch period. Through the rambles of relief and hunger, some pupils go to the grassy fields, others to the courtyard, and there's the few going to a nearby food stand.
After grabbing their bento-boxes, Hinata and Rouzakura are strolling through the field with a particular place in mind.
"Hey Pinky!"
Right when they were at the treeline, they had to be intercepted by their 'senpai'. Three older girls strut towards them, the middle one with uneven purple hair looks down on them with that insufferably smug smirk.
Hinata hunches into herself while Rouzakura tries hard not to show her annoyance. Instead she puts on a friendly face. "Good afternoon, Ami-senpai."
Ami snickers. "I prefer more groveling than that, but nothing a little practice won't fix."
"A-Ano, we d-don't want an-ny trouble." Hinata tries speak up, only to have unwanted attention on her.
"Oh lookie girls, the little mouse actually squeaks!"Ami's gang laughs on cue. "B-But, I-I-I can't-t h-h-hear y-you, s-sp-spe-speak u-up-p!"
Her hands are pressed to her chest like a shield, Hinata is at a loss of what to say. "I-I… I m-mean…"
Having more than enough, Rouzakura snorts. "How deplorably generic of you."
As expected, the 'leader' turns sharply to her. "Excuse you?"
"Honestly senpai, such behavior is belittling, and sets terrible examples for us kouhai." She peeks over Ami's shoulder, "You agree with me don't you, Sasuke?"
"S-Sasuke-kun!" Desperately saving face she turns her back to her targets. "O-Oh, hey there Sasuke-kun~!" She tries to be cute, "It's not w-what it looks like, I was just—"
"Um, Ami?"
"Don't interrupt me! Can't you see I'm speaking to Sasuke-kun?"
"But that's the thing…" The afro-haired girl points out. "Sasuke-kun is not here."
"N-Nani…?" Brown eyes snap open to see the Prince Sasuke of her imagination… doesn't exist. Her friends cautiously backs away as she snarls like a beast.
"Grrrrr, that bubblegum floozy tricked me again!"
"Two years our junior, and she still hasn't graduated? It really doesn't matter that she's from a long line of ninjas."
"A-Ami-senp-pai never tr-truly took her training s-s-seriously."
"Almost none of the girls do, it's so embarrassing."
The two girl sit upon a small hill, peaked with a lone plum blossom tree. One blossom flutters near Rouzakura, and she extends her hand for it to rest on her palm. "It's a shame plum blossoms are seldom seen…" she says wistfully, "They're just as beautiful as cherry blossoms."
"Y-Yes." Hinata marvels at the branches raining plum petals.
Rouzakura lightly blows the flower from her hand and resumes eating. After swallowing a sushi, she asks, "How are things back at home?"
Hinata's fingers hitch, making her chopsticks drop a dumpling. Her gaze downcasts from the cascading blossoms. "A-Ano… O-Otousan has b-become impatient with m-me." Her breath shutters, "H-He expressed h-how Hanabi-ch-chan would be a-a b-b-better suited h-heiress."
This catches the rosette off guard. "You're little sister, seriously?"
The disgraced heiress silently nods.
Rouzakura is angered, her small brows furling and her fingers clenching her chopsticks, threatening to snap. "So what, because you're kind-hearted and considerate to the lesser members of your family, you're unqualified?"
"Th-The Main B-Branch desires an heir wh-who will abi-ide to tr-tradit-tions. Besides… I-I am cons-sidered w-w-weak."
Rouzakura lets out a frustrated sigh. "You're not weak, Hinata." No familiar honorifics or friendly nicknames to show she's being serious. "If you were weak, you wouldn't continue being who you are, you would've become the clan's subjugated doll, but you didn't. You keep doing what you know is right, and you're taking risks."
"B-But…"
"It's their words and their judgment that's bringing you down!"
Hinata couldn't say anything else, because her analytical friend speaks the truth.
So she inelegantly changes the subject. "N-Neji-niisan i-is home."
Rouzakura quirks an eyebrow. "Your cousin with a void for a heart and venomous spiders festering his soul?"
"Rouzakura-ch-chan!"
"I'm being brutally blunt again, sorry." The pinkette apologetically fiddles with her hair. "But can you really blame me? Everytime we're near that guy, it feels like he's trying to kill you with glaring alone! I'm really worried for you, Hinata-chan, these aren't good signs."
The young Hyuuga shakes her head. "N-Neji-niis-san won't d-do anything fatal towards m-me. He w-wouldn't r-r-risk it." She gives a weak smile, a futile attempt of assurance.
Rouzakura stares intently at her friend, catching on to the falsehood. But, knowing she couldn't do anything (not against a prestigiously prodigious clan) without causing greater risks, all she could do right now is nod her helplessness. "If you say so…"
岐
路
Back at his sanctuary that is Ichiraku, Naruto slurps up his second serving of ramen.
"Goodness Naruto-kun, take your time! It's not going anywhere." A teenaged brunette chortles.
"But it's so good, Ayame-neechan!" Naruto's grin is bright and genuine.
Ayame affectionately ruffles his hair. "Still, take your time. It's a miracle you can savor the flavor with how fast you're guzzling."
The boy laughs while wiping his face. "Okay Neechan, I'll try." He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded note.
Ayame's eyes glimmer in recognition. "Another one of those?"
He silently nods, so intent as he unfolds and reads.
I've heard you're still having trouble with the cloning technique. Should we meet up later?
~Tsukihana
Naruto sighs and refolds the note.
"Everything alright?" Ayame regains his attention.
"Yeah, she's just asking for us to meet up later." The blond stands, "Lunch time's almost over," looking down at the note, he extends it to Ayame. "Neechan, could you…?"
Knowing his request, she gently take the note in hand. "I'll dispose it for you."
"Arigato!"
The two waves farewell as Naruto dashes off. Soon after, Ayame carefully has the note's edge touch the flames boiling the broth.
岐
路
When someone peaks high in the pyramid, be it reputation or social class (or both), the line between real and fake becomes blurred. It's difficult to tell who is truly a well-meaning friend. Uchiha Sasuke does not have such an issue, because he simply negated potential companionship all together. He does so by giving off this cold unwelcoming aura, and meeting his eyes is a more drastic risk. His practiced intimidation reached the point that even his fanbase is forced to be less overzealous, gushing off to the side as he walks by and the few bold occasions they try to sit next to him during class.
Finding a secluded spot to enjoy his lunch in peace isn't as hard as it used to be either, whether he eats at the far end of the courtyard or in an empty classroom. Today, he is in the mood to partake on the academy's roof. Slowly nibbling on a rice ball with a drinking can of tomato soap on the side, Sasuke gazes at nothing, looking almost wistful.
Whenever he gets like this, he ends up trapping himself with certain thoughts, certain thoughts he purposely keeps locked away. Memories of happiness, reminiscence of love he'll never have again. These reflections embitters his taste buds, and the rice balls his cousin painstakingly made for him is in danger of going to waste. While he sincerely appreciates her making him lunch everyday, and every bento was delicious, in hindsight he reluctantly acknowledged that it all pales in comparison to the lunches his mother used to make for him.
His mother… out of everyone in his family, it was his mother he was most closest to. She was the one to teach so many things, whether it's a survival tactic or a domestic chore. Unwillingly his mind vividly pictured his mother as she taught him how to make rice balls. He recalled how he accidentally meshed his first attempt, how pieces of rice clung to his hands and then is face when he impulsively dropped his head into his hands in his frustration. He remembers his mother's laugh, so lilt and comforting, and he doesn't know if the luminous glow surrounding her was from the afternoon sunlight, or if it's how you remember a loved one no longer with you.
Either way, he's had enough of memory lane and shakes away the funereal nostalgia. Ironically, the remains of his rice ball is now mush in his fist and, eying it with discontent, he tosses it away in disgust. Wiping away rice clumps, he snatches up his tomato soap can and takes a few sips. With his head notched upward, his eyes catches the sky, and unconsciously he wonders if his mother was watching out for him as she did in life. If she is proud of who he's becoming so far.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Building up Rouzakura's character traits, I want her to be somebody who's very intelligent and observant. Ironically, these are the traits Sakura's been said to have, but personally I think they're seldom seen.
And please allow me to make this fair warning while it's still early: YES, this IS a story that's replacing Sakura as the main heroine. As stated in a previous note, Rouzakura Hagoromo's character is compare and contrast to Sakura Haruno, spliced with characterizations that's purely her own. I liked Sakura's design, so I didn't want to revoke it, but at the same time I've been desensitized of ever warming up to Sakura. Rouzakura became the solution for me for a number of years, and I'm proud with all the content I planned for her growth, some of them even being heavy influences from fanfic who interpret Sakura so much better; I will give credit where credit is due when those moments arise.
Sakura will still be in the story, but her role is where I feel she belongs, a supportive role. If you prefer her to remain a main character, then 1-she's the main character in canon and nothing will ever change that, and 2-she plays a more prominent role in my other Naruto fandom NARUTO-NEO.
"Tsukihana" is actually a strong reference to a pretty popular Naruto fanfic on this sight. It should be quite obvious but here's a hint – it has over 3000 faves.
And finally, I've always liked the idea of depicting Sasuke as a Mama's Boy. The idea of him and Mikoto having been so close is a very endearing concept too good to overlook, so this is a taste of future events of a boy who yearns for his mother's nurturing embrace.