OMG. I'm so sorry for the delay!

I can't even begin to explain how guilty I feel, but I promise this won't happen again!

Thank you everyone who reviewed the preview, now please enjoy the story!

Chapter 1: The Mistake

When I agreed to be trained by my dad, I had no idea just how seriously he would take my training.

That was my first mistake.

In the two months that followed my fateful training session with dad in the woods, he'd drilled into me flexibility, manoeuvring, and the five basic Katas. Unfortunately, I thought that if I showed dad that I had mastered them he would ease down on the running and torturous early-morning warm-ups.

That was my second mistake – he did the exact opposite of what I wanted.

With the training getting increasingly harder every day, I was the personification of a zombie – my daily routine had become ridiculously monotone; wake up, wash up, get dressed, eat breakfast, do morning warm-up, run laps, train, eat dinner, train, rest, stretch, sleep; day in, day out.

But I never complained. I'd thrown 'dear daddy' and he threw 'sweetheart' or 'precious' out of the window after the first few sessions – when I became a shinobi, my enemies wouldn't wait for me to recover after receiving a hit like a caring father. They would kill me when I was defenceless. Dad taught me that. In a way, he became my sensei, and I his student.

And I have to say, dad was an amazing teacher. I hadn't had any before, so I couldn't really compare him to others, and I knew that if someone was to see our sessions they probably wouldn't approve, but his serious, down-to-earth teaching worked best for me.

I won't deny it though, I felt like crying more times than I would like to admit after, or even during his training – he never stopped for me to catch my breath, never went easy on me, never told me about the best option, never praised me if I didn't succeed – I came home every evening bruised, beaten and feeling like I'd never wake again if I fall asleep.

But I did. For six months straight that routine went on. I had felt like giving up because I couldn't see any change at all! When we sparred, I still lost, when we raced, I was never quick enough; but I was wrong – I had changed.

It wasn't anything big – I didn't get big muscles, or amazing Hokage-worthy chakra reserves. What I saw was something small, something others would consider insignificant, but it mattered the world to me:

Our living room was aligned with pictures – of me as a toddler, of my dad during his ninja career, of my mum. I rarely looked at them for more than a second since I was so used to them being there, but one day something stood out to me. I removed one of them off the wall. It was taken barely a year ago, few days before my fateful third birthday; I was smiling happily, my pink hair messy and my eyes sparkling with that childish innocence every child possesses before they learn that the world isn't like in fairy tales. That's what grabbed my attention – that little spark.

I put the picture close to my face and looked in the mirror. Nothing. I even tried mimicking the facial expression. Still nothing. No spark.

I frowned. My fourth birthday was in two days, but surely I couldn't have changed so much in less than a year… Right?

"Oh, but you have changed." I almost jumped at the sound of dad's voice as he appeared behind me. Hm. I didn't realise I had spoken aloud.

"But how could it be gone so quickly? What do I know now that I didn't know before?" I asked, still puzzled.

"You're no longer naïve to the ways of this world, Sakura-hime. When this picture was taken," he indicated to the photo frame still grasped tightly in my hands, "you still thought like a child. A highly intelligent child, yes," he added when I opened my mouth to object, "but still a child. But during the last year you have learned more than I believed possible. You have changed, Sakura-hime. Not outwardly, but inwardly. Your eyes betray that change. I guess you could call them the windows to the soul." I looked up when he paused, curious about where he was going to take that thought. "But like all windows, if you know how to, you can pull the curtains across. Then the window will show nothing. That's something I'll teach you when you're a bit older. Now you still need to enjoy your childhood. Or whatever that's left of it." He winked and then was gone, just like he wasn't even there to begin with.

I stood there, frozen. Just what did he mean? Why would I want to 'pull the curtains across'?

Thanks, Dad. I thought, somewhat bitterly. Now I have even more questions.

"Rule Four?"

"A shinobi must always put the mission first. Which I don't get."

"Rule Twenty-Five?"

"A shinobi must never show emotion. Which I don't get."

"Rule Sixteen?"

"A shinobi must never question their commander. Which, once again, I don't get. What if the commander's wrong?"

"Regardless. Rule Twenty-Seven?"

"A shinobi must prepare before it is too late to."

"Good." Dad sighed. "You don't need to understand them, you just need to know them and obey them."

"But if I don't understand them, they why should I obey them? They are just words – if I don't understand them they mean nothing to me." I argued.

"They were made as something for ninjas to rely on. When their job becomes hard and their personal morals get in the way, that's what they fall back on."

"So they're excuses? Excuses for murder, for abuse, for stealing and lying? Is that what they're for?"

"Wha- They're not excuses! What gave you that idea?!" he yelled and paused to calm down. "No, Sakura-hime. They're not excuses."

"But then, why should I put the mission first? What if my teammates are in danger? Are random words written on a scroll more important than human beings?" I asked heatedly, then continued before dad had a chance to object. "Why should I follow my commander's every word? What if he leads the team to certain death? Should I follow him even then, even if there might be another option? And why, for Kami's sake, should I never show emotion?! Sure, that might come in handy when I'm killing innocent people for being on the wrong side of the law, that rids me of guilt, yeah, very nice. But shinobi life isn't all about killing! Ninja are for protection too! And civilians would feel more secure with someone open – for them, trusting someone open and kind comes easier than trusting a human ice-cube, however skilled in a ninja way they may be! Why, dad? Why do we have to live by rules?!" I stopped yelling, breathing heavily. My heart was beating loudly when I realised I had just shouted at my superior. Screw that, I had yelled my head off at my DAD!

But he surprised me, like he always does in those situations. He just smiled and ruffled my hair, as if we were discussing what kind of cake I want for dessert.

"It's times like these when I wonder if I had started too early." He whispered. "I feel like I should be ashamed of myself for trying to make you perfect, but each time something like this happens, I can't help but be proud." I stifled a gasp when I saw tears gathering in his eyes. "Remember Sakura, there will be people who will have different views than you. There will be those who will refuse to see something in a different way. Whatever you do, don't give in. Always, ALWAYS stay by what you believe in. Do you understand?"

I nodded, suddenly speechless.

"Great!" he exclaimed, all seriousness gone. "Then put that pouch away and change into some nice clothes, I'm taking you out!"

At my surprised gaze he laughed and ruffled my hair again.

"It's your birthday, remember!"

Dad had taken me to a small dango place. I had never eaten dango before, and at the beginning, I insisted that I'd have ice-cream, but when dad said mum absolutely adored dango, I just had to try it.

By the first bite, it was love at first sight.

"Mum was a genius." I mumbled in-between bites. Dad just laughed at me.

"Your mother was a lot of things, Sakura-hime."

I paused for a second, contemplating the almost riddle-like way he worded the sentence, and the secretive – was it secretive? – glint in his eyes.

But I dismissed it, blaming it on my overactive imagination and my mind over-thinking things.

I'd later learn I should trust my instincts.

"Where are we going now?" I asked, curious, as I was lead out of the café.

"I still haven't given you your gift, have I?" he replied, eyes gleaming happily.

"But- the dango!"

"Oh Sakura-hime!" he laughed. "Have I really been treating you that badly? No, the café was a celebration, now we're going to buy you your gift!"

We walked through the streets of Konoha for ten, maybe fifteen minutes until dad stopped and pulled me into one of the shops which I would've just passed by – it was grey, boring, and looked as if it hadn't seen a customer for over a century. But I didn't say anything and allowed dad to lead me inside. As always, the moment I stepped into the secure four-wall-environment I felt instant relief.

I felt dad lightly squeeze my hand, and as I looked up, I gasped.

Walls, shelves, ceiling, even the floors were lined with all sorts of ninja tools; swords, kunai, shuriken, exploding tags, bells, chakra receivers, puppets, chains; then one wall was covered entirely with ninja clothing, and from where I was standing I could see an entire cabinet filled with pills; blood replenishing, soldier, food, chakra pills. It was hard to stop myself from drooling.

I stared at dad, mouth and eyes wide open, perfectly resembling of a fish.

Dad chuckled. "Well, go on. Choose anything you like. Money doesn't matter. You've got an hour."

I don't think I've ever loved my dad more.

"Ding ding. Time's up, Sakura-hime."

What?!

I could've sworn it's only been five minutes since he left me in the shop to get anything I wanted. Yet the enormous pile of tools by the counter and an almost bigger pile I currently held in my arms stated otherwise.

I thought this would be the last time dad would ever leave me in a shop with an undefined budget, but he took it surprisingly calmly, even bending down to help me heave the stuff I'd placed on the floor onto the counter for the surprised clerk to count.

"I see you've thought of everything." Dad chuckled as he saw the range of products I've chosen. I took a little bit of everything, but the thing I was most proud of was the outfit I had chosen for myself – a long, three-quarter sleeved blue top, which was navy at the shoulders and chest then faded into a delicate baby-blue, knee-length navy shorts and standard blue ninja sandals. It was painfully simple, but I fell in love with the softness of the material and the small, white cherry blossoms which ran from the right shoulder to the left side of my waist.

"Did you leave your kid to do the shopping for you, Urisui-san?" the clerk asked as my dad lined up to pay.

"No, that's not it Shirani-san. You see, all this stuff is for her." He replied.

"For her?" The clerk – Shirani-san – asked, pointing at me. "But the kid can't be older than three."

I was really tempted to correct the man, but dad did it for me.

"She's four, actually. And I've started her basic training six months ago, so now we can continue a bit more seriously."

"You've already started training her?!" Shirani-san asked, seeming almost outraged. Why, I had no clue. "Urisui-san... Do you not remember what the Hokage said? I thought you realised that your teaching methods are not exactly child-friendly." He said icily.

I saw a muscle twitch in dad's jaw before he replied. "I'm aware of Hokage-sama's opinion, Shirani-san. But Sakura is my daughter, and this was her choice." I was shocked. I've never seen dad act so… cold. Like a real ninja. "And I'll do everything in my power to make her the best ninja this world has ever seen."

"That's impossible. You're insane, Urisui-san."

Now I just had to interrupt. The man was getting on my nerves.

"Whether a task is possible or impossible depends on the determination of the person attempting it, not the complexity of the task itself." I snapped. "And I would appreciate if you didn't insult my daddy…"

The clerk just stared down at me for a few seconds (seeing as the top of my head barely even reached the counter) before speaking.

"Well, here are your things, Urisui-san. Good luck raising your little killing machine." He said venomously.

I let dad usher me out of the shop, arms stuffed with my shopping, all the while pondering what the man had said. Would I really grow up to be a killing machine?

Due to my inner debate, and dad's agitated state, neither of us noticed the pair of crimson eyes which watched us from around the corner. The owner of said eyes reminiscing the times when he was that age; prodigy, better than the rest of his peers, the fruit of his father's mad ambition hailed by all of the villagers. And now, whenever he walked the streets, he would be subjected to whispers, and stares, and would have to bear the knowledge that half the village thought of him as a cold-blooded murder.

He knew the future which lay ahead of the pinkette after having overheard the conversation with the shopkeeper, he knew her future even if she didn't yet know it herself. It would be the same as his.

Seeing the girl walk out of the shop had only confirmed that.

After all, no four-year-old he knew walked soundlessly.

Anyone hazard a guess as to who Sakura's little stalker is?

It's quite simple, really.

Once again, I'm really sorry for the enormous delay,

Hope to hear your opinion of this chapter in your REVIEW!

I pinky-promise the next update will be out sooner!

Ja ne!