Chapter #2
"Sakura, you feeling alright?" Yamato asked. Shippuden Team Seven stood outside the council building–-their usual meeting spot-discussing their next mission.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" Sakura said with loud irritation in her voice.
Yep, something's wrong… Yamato thought to himself. He had been on Team Seven long enough to know the members. "Okay, so is everyone clear? This is an information collecting mission. We are going to a possible hideout of Sasuke's. Remember the floors and walls are most likely booby trapped." Naruto thought to himself, Ha ha, he said 'booby!') "Also, make sure not to fall into any genjutsu traps," Yamato finished.
"I understand" Sai said, emotionless as usual.
"Got it!" Naruto said, still thinking about the booby traps.
"Yeah, whatever." Sakura folded her arms and looked away.
Yep something's definitely wrong… The three guys thought in unison.
"What are we waiting for let's go!" Sakura took off toward the gates of Konoha eager to get as far away as possible from her evil step mom.
Shio opened the refrigerator in the kitchen by the front door. She saw the lamb chops Sakura had made for her father since it was his birthday. She picked up the card and read what it said to herself:
"Happy Birthday Father! I made you some lamb chop,s I hope you enjoy them. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there on your birthday, I have village duties to attend to! I love you!
Love, Sakura."
"Hmph!" Shio tore up the note and tossed it in the trash. She pulled out the lamb chops and put them in the oven to heat up. "Happy birthday, Father" my ass!
The front door opened and Sakura's dad walked in. He wore his brown suit, green and white tie, and brief case in hand. "Evening, honey! Is Sakura home?" He shrugged off his jacket and put it on the coat hanger in the entry room.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart! I made you lamb chops! I know they're your favorite!" She batted her eyelashes knowing he'd fall for it.
"Thanks, dear. Do you know if Sakura's home? I got her something at work." He looked around.
"No, she left on some stupid mission. Honestly, I think she only went because it was your birthday and she didn't get you anything. But anyways, if her missions interfere with important stuff like this I say she shouldn't be allowed to be a ninja. Wouldn't you agree, dear?" She spoke in a flirty "I-won't-take-no-for-an-answer" tone.
"Sakura's been doing this since she was in preschool-"
"Well, don't you think it's time for her to stop? I mean she could die and you wouldn't have your dear daughter anymore and your loving wife would grieve for her loss everyday…" She tilted her head back and placed the back of her hand on her forehead to add dramatic affect.
"But what about Sasuke, their missing-"
"Don't you remember darling? He broke your daughter's heart countless times. He even tried to kill her twice! Why would you want someone like him around your daughter? Why would you even want him back here Konoha? Don't you see? This ninja business will ruin our lives!"
"What about Naruto and the others-?"
"They're the ones putting her in the line of fire! That Naruto kid is the nine tails! You haven't forgotten what he did to her right? Those scars on her arm? They're all his fault."
"You have a point…"
"Of course I have a point! Dear, I just named two years of your daughter's life! Plus, she used ninjutsu in the house, again!" She stopped for a second to make a tragic puppy-dog face. "I mean ninjutsu is a dangerous art. Why would you want a delicate, immature teenager dealing with that?"
"You're right… I'll have to break it to her when she gets home from her mission."
"But what if she dies? I say we march up to the hokage office and make that old hag get some ninja out there to bring Sakura home ASAP!"
"Don't you think you're going a little overboard?"
"You want what's best for your two favorite girls, right?" She pretended to cry a little to make sure he went along with it.
And he did.
My editor was all like, "PORKCHOPS? You do NOT use pork chops for evil, EVER. That's just messed up!"
Comment if you agree with her and that Shio is evil.
