Sakura expelled a breath of air from her lungs, unheard over the soft hum of the air conditioning. The sun was barely beginning to peak over Konoha's forest, bathing her surroundings in a dim blue glow.
Out of her entire home, this room was her favorite: in it she had amassed her entire collection of childhood valuables. It was, she had to admit, an odd assortment.
A pair of moracas, one red and the other pink, dangled noiselessly next to the door by a piece of yarn. Resting upon a shelf was a jar of marbles (each a unique color), a teddy bear made from two types of fabric and a doll missing her arm. A wobbly-handed drawing of a monkey, with one ear comically larger than its counterpart, was hanging on the wall.
The soft tiny yawn of a child floated through the room. Kakashi looked up from rocking their six-month-old son's basinet, sharingan swirling next to dark blue, and the pink-haired woman smiled. She had been collecting mismatched things all her life.
It was only natural that she add him to her collection.