Disclaimer - Nope. Don't Own.

Summary - She always smiled, always laughed. She always burnt the spam and called me her little Genetic Mutation. That's how I choose to remember her, my mother. Before she put me in the white room.

Rating - T-ish-ness.. Yeah.

Notes - WOO. I HAVE RETURNED WITH AN -ACTUAL- STORY. YAY.

The White Room

Chapter 1

My name is Sakura Haruno.

When I was young, my mother used to call me her little genetic mutation. It’s not that common of a pet name, I suppose, but neither was my mother.

She was a genetic scientist. She studied the genetic code. She even created artificial DNA. She was really nice, though. I remember, every morning she would make me spam and eggs. It was always my favorite, though it was almost always burnt.

She created genes, but she could never cook. I would always explain to her, “Mama, it’s just like creating chemical compounds. A little salt, some ketchup, water, and the right temperature.”

She would always laugh and say, with a genius in the kitchen like me, she’d never have to learn to cook.

That’s how I remember her. Standing in the kitchen, stained apron and smoking eggs, a sheepish smile spread against her light freckled skin.

I loved her freckles. She hated them. When I complained about my hair, she’d scold me and tell me to be happy that I was different. She said to be to cherish my pink hair and be thankful that I didn’t have freckles.

She was barely ever home. Her job at the lab kept her there for days at a time. It wasn’t so bad, I guess. It left me with plenty of time to myself. I’d sneak into her office and read her textbooks.

At first, they didn’t make any sense. But, after a while, things started looking familiar. Eventually I would read through whole chapters, never missing a beat. When I got bored with that, I’d get on the computer. I’d look through scientific websites, trying to follow the complicated formulas and examples.

One time, she came home early and found me reading in her office. At first, she looked mad. She was about to scold me when she noticed what I was reading. It was the Advanced Explanations of the String Theory. It wasn’t really that complicated. Just about these wiggly things that were really small. It hadn’t been proven yet, though.

Mom walked up to me, “Do you understand this, honey?” she asked, taking the book from me and reading the back.

“Sort of, mama.” I was only half finished, and they really hadn’t explained much.

“What’s it about, then?”

I explained to her about the little circular strings, and how they were smaller the quarks, the things that make up atoms. After that the book said something about quantum mechanics. That’s when it got confusing, I told her.

My mother just looked at me her green eyes wide. I thought she was mad, so I started to apologize.

“I’m sorry, mama. Really, I’ll never touch your books again, I swear!”

She stared down at me for a moment, and then ran over to the phone and began talking quickly in a language I didn’t fully understand.

I picked up a few of the things that she said, though. She was talking to someone named Dr. Sarutobi. He asked a few questions, I think, and she answered with the name of the book.

“She’s six years old, for Christ sake! Most people don’t understand this until they’re in college, grad school, even!”

There was a murmur on the phone, and then she said something about my DNA becoming active.

I don’t remember it much, it was all a blur.

My mother then said something about bringing me to somewhere. Something about observing me.

After that, I hid in my room. What my mother had said was scaring me. It was like she didn’t even care what I wanted. She just wanted to know what I could do.

It was like I was some sort of experiment.

And, I guess, I was.

After that, my mother took me to her lab. The first thing that we did once we got there was take a shower. I hated it. It was cold and there were a bunch of people with us. After that, my mother put on a big white lab coat. She dressed me up in a hospital gown of the same color.

She led me down a long empty corridor. There wasn’t anything special about it, just lots of doors with labels. It was white, though.

Everything there was white.

Mama took take me to the twenty seventh door. Inside the door was a white room, with a white table and a white chair. In the corner was a white book case with books like the ones in Mama’s office at home. One of the walls was dark grey and shiny like a mirror. On the table was a white computer. There was white paper and a calculator, too. In the other corner there was a whiteboard with a dry-erase pen. The pen was pink, like my hair.

The first time, my mother sat me in the chair and told me to be good. She said that I could read any of the books or do anything on the computer or the whiteboard. She said that she’d just be in the next room, so don’t worry. After that, she left.

I was so scared.

I ran to the corner and hugged my knees. I cried. I cried and cried until I couldn’t cry any more. Then, I sat in the corner and let out dry sobs, yelling for my mama. Come back, I said, I’m scared. Please.

She didn’t come back.

I don’t know how long I was there for. It could have been an hour; it could have been a day. All I knew was that I never left my corner and I never stopped sobbing.

Eventually, someone in a lab coat like my mother’s came in with some soup and juice. He had nice eyes. They were blue, just like the sky, and his hair was yellow like the sun. He smiled and put the food on the table.

“Eat up.” He said, “You don’t want to get too hungry; It’ll make your tummy hurt.”

“W-where’s my mama?” I cried, “I want my mama.”

He tilted his head, like he was thinking, “Your mama’s really busy.” He said, “But don’t worry, I’ll tell her you want her as soon as I see her, okay?”

“O-okay.” I sniffed, “T-thank you.”

He smiled again, it made me feel better, if only a little, “No problem, kiddo.”

After that, he left.

Nobody came back for a long time, so I figured that my mother had to be really, really busy. My stomach growled, so I went to inspect the food.

The soup had gone cold, but the juice was okay. I drank it all in one gulp. It tasted like fake oranges, but with something else. I didn’t know what it was, but it made me sleepy.

I went back to my corner and lied down. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the floor.

When I woke up, I was in my bed at home.

I figured it was all a bad dream.

A few of years passed before I went back to the lab with my mother. I was ten, I think, and I had just finished a complicated math problem. My mother said it was something called Calculus. I didn’t really care, I was just happy that I finished it. It made mama smile, you see. I hadn’t seen mama smile for a long time.

She was always so tired. She’d come home after I went to bed, walk right past the dinner I left for her on the table, and sleep. Sometimes she’d sleep for days, sometimes hours. When she woke up, though, it was always before me. She’d just be leaving when I got out of bed.

“There’s breakfast on the table.” She’d say, and then she’d curse and start looking for her phone. Every morning, she’d loose it. And every morning it would be lying on her pillow, by her laptop.

When I was dressed and ready for school, I’d go to the table and eat my breakfast. It was never spam and eggs anymore. It was always a microwave burrito or leftover Chinese food. And it was always cold.

After I ate my breakfast, I’d go to school. I sat third row from the back, two seats from the isle. I scored 67 on all of my tests and had a C average.

Mama said that I was special. She said that I was perfect and wonderful and everything a mother could ask for. She said that I had to keep a secret, though, and never tell anybody about her or her lab or the books. She said that I had to keep a passing grade, but only a passing grade. Nothing more and nothing less. She said that I couldn’t do any sports or after-school activities. She dyed my hair black and made me wear brown contacts.

“Your too special,” She’d tell me, “I don’t want anyone taking you away from me.”

The day she took me to the lab, it was snowing. Everything was white. She took me through the shower again and dressed me in a white hospital gown.

She took me down the same corridor to the same room, number twenty seven. Inside was the same table, the same book case, the same computer and the same white board. There was even the same pen. Still pink and still in the exact same place it was last time.

She told me she’d just be in the other room. She told me not to worry, she’d come if I needed her. After that, she left.

This time, I didn’t sit in the corner. I sat in the chair in front of the computer. I moved the mouse. When the screen loaded, it had a white background. I stared at it for a moment. I changed it to the same pink as the marker.

I decided that I hated white.

I got up and looked through the book case. They were all textbooks; Quantum Mechanics, Medical books, math theorems, all boring. On the bottom shelf, three books from the end, was a book entitled The Idiot’s Guide to the Universe. I picked it up and began to read. The book talked about all of the planets, how poor Pluto kept getting removed from the official list, and about the other two that were only considered “Planetoids”. I felt bad for them; all alone, shunned by society. They reminded me of me. I sighed and shut the book.

After a while, the same man, the one with the blue eyes and blonde hair, brought me a turkey sandwich and a glass of juice. He smiled, the same smile as before, and set down the food.

He was about to leave when I asked his name.

He smiled, “Minato Namikaze.” He said.

“Well thank you, then, Mr. Namikaze.”

“You’re welcome, Sakura.” He replied.

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“It’s your mother,” He replied, still smiling, “She tells everyone about you. Never shuts up about you, really.” He laughed.

“Oh.” I replied. “Why did she bring me here?” I asked, taking a bite of the sandwich. Some tomato ran down my face.

Minato dug through his pocket for a moment, coming out with a napkin. I took it from him and wiped my face.

“You’re special,” He said, moving his arms around, as if he was trying to communicate my genius through his hands, “We just want to know how so that we can make our own kids that smart.”

“You have a kid?” I asked, tilting my head much as he had last time we met.

“Yeah,” He smiled. It was a different smile then before, more wistful. It was a special smile. “His name is Naruto. He’s about your age, actually.”

“I’d like to meet him.” I said, taking a sip of my juice. It was the same artificial orange taste, with the same something else.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m sure he’d like to meet you too.” He looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows, as if just noticing what time it was.

“Ah. Sorry, Sakura, I have to go.” He rushed out of the door, white lab coat trailing behind him.

“Yeah,” I said to the spot where he’d been just seconds ago, “Sorry.”

After that, I got sleepy again. I went to rest my head on the table and woke up in my bed at home.

I sighed and got up. My mother was gone; there was a cold burrito in the table.

I got my coat and left.