Chapter 6 – Food For Thought

Three. Sakura now hated the number with a passion.

It was the number of times Naruto Uzumaki had entered her room when she least needed him there.

The first time, he came up with a cup of instant ramen. It was always ramen. This time, it was ramen and a book with a clasp. “It’s a diary,” he told her. “There’s a pen inside. Write whatever you want. I don’t care. I won’t look.”

He was about to leave when Sakura raised her voice. “Wait.” He did, and watched impassively as she got up and flipped open the diary, almost tearing the pen from its holder. She roughly etched an ‘I’, then adorned the next page with an equally angry ‘H’.

When she had ‘I HATE YOU’ scrawled over eight pages, Sakura dropped the pen, ignored the ache in her hand from clenching it so tightly, and flipped through them – slowly, as if he were a child and needed the time to digest single letters – for Uzumaki to see. He betrayed no emotion. She threw the book at him. It struck his shoulder with a hard-edged corner and she hoped that it left a bruise.

Barely an hour later, the sound of the lock unbolting echoed in her ears again, and Sakura heard herself growl. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Uzumaki poked his head in again, saw the untouched ramen. If she had been paying attention, she would have seen his mouth pull down in a frown. “You should eat,” he said quietly, and left her again.

Sakura wanted to scream so, so badly.

Uncle Konosuke had always been very nice to her. He was practically a blood-related relative. How many times had she skipped down the staircase to open the door to his bright grin? Uncle had something for her every time he visited. At times it was a book, a new soft drink on the market, or simply a clumsily-made paper crane. He had been a family friend since before Sakura had been born.

She hadn’t seen him for almost a year now, yet Sakura remained fond of the man. But although she grieved for him, it only made her long for her father even more. What would he think of this? Her father was so level-headed... would he snap if he found out his friend had been killed? He’d never find out, would he? She couldn’t tell if she was glad or not.

Sakura’s eyes fell on the unwanted diary by the door. It had fallen open on the page bearing the letter ‘U’. Why had she written ‘I HATE YOU’ and not ‘I HATE NARUTO UZUMAKI’? You. She wondered if she would look through the book years later, as you were supposed to with diaries, and wonder who ‘YOU’ was. A jolt rippled her stomach as she pondered just how long she would remain under Uzumaki’s custody if she did not manage to escape. The likelihood that she would die an unnatural death was extremely high.

Finding herself to be eerily collected was puzzling after such a realisation. It felt like she was looking in on herself from a third person’s view, distanced and detached. My life would make a popular TV drama, she mused with dark humour.

Sakura threw the blankets over herself and burrowed deep in the folds, curling up until she felt stifled and unable to breathe. If I could shrink to the size of an ant, she fantasised in the artificial darkness, I would be able to escape out the window. She felt very small right now.

It wasn’t long before her stomach started to growl, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since returning from the ball last night. It was almost four in the afternoon.

The ramen was distastefully cold by the time she peeled back the lid. Sakura recalled a period where she would starve herself simply to spite Uzumaki. It had given her a triumphant sense of rebellion. How stupid she had been. The jerk wasn’t worth it. But she had never liked cold food, so she grabbed a towel and a spare change of clothes from the cupboard and headed into the shower instead. Uzumaki must be doing her laundry for her, she realised as the water spilled over her shoulders. What a hen.

Again, she was unnerved by how ridiculously calm she was – for all she knew, the ramen could have been her last meal. Where was this confidence coming from? She must have benefited from her brief tantrum more than she’d thought. Or maybe she was becoming emotionless. It was impossible to tell.

Sakura flipped sodden hair back from her face and sullenly leaned her forehead against the shower door. Her breath misted on the already-steamy glass surface. The water fell rhythmically against her back and she allowed her eyes to slide shut for a moment. A frustrated sob choked from her throat but she couldn’t be sure if she was crying since her face was already wet.

Useless. Wasn’t there anything she could actually do, damn it?!

Oh yes, she hated being a realist.

As she perfunctorily got dressed, Sakura looked dully at her hazy reflection in the mirror. It almost looked like she was faceless through the mist. Faceless, just like a nobody.

She was aware that other teenagers were concerned with their social identity and paranoid of becoming such an unnoticeable person that they would fade into a marionette with an easily forgotten name. Such baggage had never been a concern of Sakura Haruno’s, having been home-schooled by specialised tutors since she had been a child.

There were moments where she had wondered what it would be like to be an average girl, someone without a wealthy father and sheltered lifestyle. Would she have... friends? She hadn’t experienced desolate loneliness for a long time now and had never seen the need for friends, because Father was all she needed, and if he was too busy, Uncle Konosuke would drop by, and even if he was unavailable, she still had the servants who had been there since her birth.

And they were all gone now. All she had was her father’s murderer. Whom she hated. And wanted to hurt, punish and maul but couldn’t – and wouldn’t. Revenge – what did it even mean? It was not a ladder which extended into a safe and blissful haven; more like a dark pit dropping to the depths of Hell.

Sakura looked around blankly for a shirt, then realised that she must have forgotten to bring one in. She sighed, dumped her clothes into a basket in the corner, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Naruto Uzumaki. On the bed. Staring wide-eyed at her.

“Shit!” they cried simultaneously.

Sakura immediately ducked back inside the bathroom, flushing with such chagrin that her breaths hitched. She wasn’t exceptionally diffident about her body – but this was not her father, not Rokurou or any other man. This was Uzumaki. He may be an incredibly misleading persona, but he was still a male – and he was her age. “Wh-what are you doing in here?” she demanded shakily, fighting down the urge to shriek.

“I wanted to... actually, forget it.” He cut himself off awkwardly. “Just... get some clothes on first.” She was a tad bit amused, though, despite the hot embarrassment searing her insides like a torrent of magma – of all the things Uzumaki could have found uncomfortable. And of all the other alternatives, she just had to find out about it under such circumstances. At least I have my pants on...

“I... need a shirt.” God, her face was heating up. Badly.

She heard him mutter something to himself, then self-consciously clear his throat. “Go get it. I-I won’t look. Promise.”

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed herself into the cool, tiled wall as she peeked into the room. Indeed, his eyes were closed – quite tightly, she might add. Cautiously, she inched out. Cool air chilled her skin, but she didn’t think it was the cause of her goose bumps. “Don’t try anything,” she intoned dangerously. He nodded hastily, eyes still squeezed shut. Sakura darted out, grabbed the first shirt she saw in the cupboard, and threw it on gratefully.

After a while, not daring to crack open an eye, Naruto asked, “Are you done yet?” Reading his emotions was easier said than done.

Sakura felt utterly humiliated. Not only had her dignity suffered a blow, she had also shown weakness. She had started the day off by boldly expressing her raw hatred – and now she was practically at mortification’s mercy.

Naruto’s discomfiture did not help, either. It only stressed his nature as a teenager, a human. She was still struggling to accept that he was not a living nightmare or a mindless robot. He was still a human, just like her. A horrible person, yes, but he was all flesh and bone. If she cut him – and now she didn’t even know if she could manage that – he would bleed.

She was beginning to think of him as a person, even if the first words she related to him were generally synonyms of ‘bastard’. That only made him even more difficult to figure out – except she didn’t want to figure him out. She didn’t want to know, see, touch, hear him – she didn’t want him to exist at all.

Honestly, she had no idea how the pillow had gotten in her hands. Or how she ended up hitting Uzumaki over and over with it. She did know if felt good to hear his yelps, though, and she could almost forgive herself for not grabbing something harder.

“Hey, hey! Stop it!” Uzumaki’s muffled laughter only served to infuriate her even more. How dare he!

She put more strength behind her onslaught, but the pillow naturally softened the force. Finally recognising her fury, he seized the improvised weapon with all too much ease, smiling when Sakura grunted and struggled to free it. Tasting defeat, she renounced it, threw her end at his face, and stormed to the barred window, seething.

“I’ve never had a pillow fight before,” Naruto said airily. Sakura looked sharply at him, ignoring the fact that she could relate to his experience; she had played chess with her father, had found a gaming partner in the surprisingly free-spirited Yvonne – but she’d had no one who would retaliate if she ever tossed a pillow at them. It was quite stress-relieving, she discovered.

But she wasn’t going to tell him any of that. “Get out.” Then, after a moment of thought, scornfully added, “Please.” If she had thought that would get rid of him, she was sorely mistaken.

From the corner of her vision, Sakura saw Naruto gesture toward the ramen on the table. “I heated it up for you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She couldn’t eat with him in the room and even if he offered to leave, the damage was already done.

Silence chilled the air. Sakura cast around, wondering if Uzumaki had left without her noticing, but he was still on the bed, seemingly engaged in his thoughts. She took a minute to observe him. His elbows were rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. She had somehow deemed him more honourable than Lucas O’Connor. Now how had that happened? She hadn’t thought that anyone could rank lower than Naruto Uzumaki on her preference list. Sakura couldn’t help but think that their relationship would be so much simpler if she had every nameable reason to despise him.

“You have to remember that things will not always go the way you want them to, Princess,” a lilted voice murmured in her ear, warm with affection. Clenching her fists, she gently discouraged it. Please, Father...

Sakura was suddenly aware that Naruto was speaking to her. She had already automatically turned towards the sound of his voice before she remembered that she was supposed to be standing her firm ground. “What now?” she huffed. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you feel like going out?” he wanted to know.

“Going... out?” Sakura repeated, arching a sceptical eyebrow. It was his wordless nod, so calm, so casual, that reminded her of the night he had invited her to the ball. The night he had taken another life – a life she had thought would not affect her. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” She started shaking her head, backing up until she was pressed against the wall. Naruto slowly rose to his feet, stepping toward her. A shaky laugh escaped her. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t know enough people for you to make a sport out of killing them.”

Naruto stopped. Something flashed in his eyes, a trace of sadness lingering. “You’re only able to see me as a killer, huh?”

Once Sakura had made eye contact with him, the intensity held her fast. Uzumaki actually looked sorrowful and the pink-haired girl was tempted to tell him that, no, she also thought he was an idiot, a jerk and a damn frustrating guy – but she kept it down, convincing herself that he didn’t deserve it.

Yet she couldn’t muster the mercilessness to look him in the eye and lie so blatantly. She could delude unblinkingly about other matters – she already had – but this felt immoral. Uzumaki may enjoy making her life hell, but she did not have it in her to follow his example.

So she just tipped her head back and stared hard at him, challenge sparking in her eyes. He wasn’t up to it – she wondered if he truly wanted to know her answer – and eventually turned his head away. It was one of the few times he had backed down to her will.

Perhaps he couldn’t tolerate this sudden assertion of authority. Sakura’s eyes widened as Naruto unexpectedly took another step forward, reaching for her. An involuntary step had her stumbling, her heel knocking against the wall behind her. “Wait-” she blurted, but by then the blonde had already stopped and was painstakingly scrutinising her expression of provoked fear with unrecognisable curiosity.

His outstretched fingers twitched a little, tentative, and then he let his arm fall to his side. “Sakura, listen to me,” he said, and she found herself unwillingly focusing intently on his voice. “I’m not taking you out to... kill someone. Trust me.”

Her response was one-worded and held incomprehensible depth. “How?”

To her surprise, Naruto chuckled. “Fair enough.” He got back on track. “If you’re okay with it, we can go out for lunch. Get some fast food, you know?”

Sakura shook her head.

“You don’t? Gee, I didn’t know rich people were so-”

“What are you hiding, Uzumaki? No – what are you thinking?” Sakura chewed on her lip, her molars biting into her gums. “Tell me.”

He was mute for over a minute, holding himself in a manner not unlike a statue. “You need to eat. I know you hate me, I know you probably want to kill-”

“No. I don’t – I’m not going to be like you. Never,” Sakura was quick to let him know, her voice rising. With no love lost between them, she wouldn’t mind if he was dead, but she was not about to entice herself to the role of the killer. No. Father would be so very disappointed in her.

He raised his hands, whether in surrender or to placate her, she didn’t know. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sakura.” She turned her head away, hating how his voice was soft and gentle. “No bombs, no threats. No strings attached.”

“... Why are you trying so hard? Exactly what are you trying to achieve? Taking me out onto the streets; if people recognise me, how is that going to benefit you? How is helping me benefitting you?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he observed amusedly. “Like I used to.”

She gave him a cold look. “Don’t compare me with you. Please. It’s... it’s pointless.”

“Sakura. Do you want to go or not?” It suddenly occurred to her that he wanted her opinion, her judgement. He would base his actions off her decision. Sakura gradually came to understand the nagging sensation she had been experiencing.

He was not forcefully dragging her down the staircase, not openly manipulating or threatening her.

Naruto Uzumaki was giving her a choice.

Although she was wary of the offer, Sakura had half a mind to accept. Somehow, Uzumaki had changed his attitude towards her – maybe he was opening himself up? Perhaps she could take advantage of this lapse. She wanted to know why he was doing all this. She wanted to know why she was alive, why he was supporting her despite the burden she clearly was to his lifestyle. Why am I not thinking about how to break free when he’s not looking? she wondered absently, but she already knew. Some part of her, thrust deeply in the back of her consciousness, could already tell that this was the wrong moment. Running when he would expect it was suicidal.

And she was hungry.

“You’re paying,” she told him, and resisted the urge to grab the pillow again when he smiled at her. Why was she irked by his smile? Because she could tell it was genuine, that’s why.

-

Uzumaki seemed to live further away from town than she had presumed. Not that she was surprised; only secrecy would befriend a man like him. Five minutes into the trip, Sakura began to play with the radio, tetchily twiddling the dials. She waited for her companion to complain or at least give some indication that her meddling was getting on his nerves. It didn’t come. Scowling, Sakura switched it off.

Then he started to hum. She had heard him hum a couple of times prior, but had not noticed how rhythmic and... soothing it was. Sakura gazed out her side of the window, watched the scenery evolve from shabby streets to unoccupied land to high-rise apartments. Gradually, she began to lose herself in Naruto’s low thrums.

Kazuo Haruno had been a doting father, but not many were aware that he had not adored his daughter from the beginning. Only Hotaru, who had served the Harunos since their marriage, remembered. And Sakura. Sakura remembered the loneliness.

“Your father is just sad,” Hotaru had told her. “He misses your mother.” Father must have really loved her mother, young Sakura concluded, since he was so busy immersing himself in his work or visiting his wife’s grave that he had no time for his own daughter. Even on the rare occasions that she found her way onto his lap, he would just smile wearily at her, and return to his newspaper. There was no bond, no connection, and Sakura just wanted to be loved.

She was five when it had been too much for her. Why did Uncle Konosuke play with her more than Father did? Why didn’t Father know that all she had wanted for her birthday was a warm, tender hug, and not a chance for her to redecorate her room whichever way she pleased?

She had pulled herself free of Hotaru’s hand and latched desperately onto her father’s leg as he put on his shoes for work. “What’s wrong?” he had asked her, surprised, and she had told him exactly what was wrong. She showered him with pleas – please spend more time with her; please don’t buy her things she didn’t need or like; please love her. Please be her father, because sometimes she just wasn’t sure if he was.

Father began to change for her. Every December, he would take time off work to go on vacation with her. It was just the two of them together, and Sakura learned to love her father. They had come a long way. “And you know what, little princess?” Hotaru laughed when Sakura had asked her to recount that day. “You didn’t even cry. I think that was what Mr Haruno saw. You were growing up too quickly.”

Presently, the pink-haired girl wondered if his death would still have devastated her to this degree if they had remained distant. It was possible that she would not have met Naruto Uzumaki at all; there was no reason to venture into a stranger’s room, even if it was for dessert.

Sakura brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Father had liked to braid her hair; he had learned specifically just for her. Had she hurt herself by growing so attached to him? She knew so many things about him. Her father was right-handed, but insisted on doing everyday tasks with his left hand; his favourite sport was basketball; his drawing abilities made his daughter’s first artwork look magnificent. She missed his traits, missed him. She was yearning for his attention all over again, only this time he would never oblige.

“Ano sa... I think we’re lost.”

Oh yes, Father had gotten them lost in the mountains once. That had been quite memorable...

... Wait a minute. Sitting up straighter, Sakura turned in her seat, training her eyes on Uzumaki. Didn’t say anything – just stared.

Uzumaki leaned forward and squinted at the next road sign that passed. “... I can’t even pronounce that. Yep, we’re lost,” he announced merrily.

The car didn’t even slow down and he gave no outward indication that he had any intention to pull over. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Not really. I was aiming for town, but it looks like I missed the exit on the freeway.”

“Then just turn around and go back.” Naruto began to whistle very conspicuously and adjusted the air conditioning, not answering her. Sakura’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You see... we came out of the freeway ten minutes ago. I’ve just been driving around at random.”

Sakura resorted to a sigh, running a hand through her hair. Was there a particular reason why she was not experiencing a flare of annoyance? She wasn’t even frustrated. Just... amazed that someone so stupid could interpret complicated plans of action to infiltrate well-secured buildings.

They waited at a light, watching pedestrians cross in front of them. How easy would it be to run out of the car at this moment and flee? The door wasn’t even locked. Uzumaki couldn’t do much in public. But that would stir a scaled ruckus, wouldn’t it? People would get hurt. Sakura looked away. “Uzumaki,” she said, and had to pause when he turned to her. “Do you have a street directory?”

His face brightened. “Sure I do. I just can’t read it.”

Drawing on an ample amount of patience, Sakura calmly acknowledged this ridiculous statement. “Park the car and get it out. Let me see it.” She had plenty of experience with maps; her father had not been the most orientated driver. She had lost count of how many times they had wandered onto the wrong path. But it hadn’t mattered back then; Father had been alive.

Naruto pulled up at the side of the road after the light had changed. She didn’t even notice that he had gotten out to rummage through the boot until he dropped a thick volume on her lap. Sakura shook herself out of her reverie and opened it, aware that her companion had his attention focused solely on her. She didn’t look at him. “What is this street called?”

He had no idea, so he drove them further up the road, stopping a few car spaces from the street sign. He read it out to her, and she flipped through the index until she had the directory open on the correct page. “We should be here,” she told him, pointing to the lower right-hand corner of the page. He leaned across to see and Sakura uncomfortably shifted as his head loomed close. “Where were you planning to go?” she asked distractedly. His hair smelled of herbal shampoo.

“Let me see if I can find the freeway first...” Naruto picked up the map and turned it this way and that, struggling to settle on the correct direction to read it. Her mouth twitching, Sakura slapped his hand away and flipped it the right way for him. A farcical grin flashed across his face – one which she saw no hint of a murderer in – and traced his finger over a thick yellow line on the page. “Let’s see... uh, turn to page three hundred and...”

In the meantime, Sakura stared out the window, observing businessmen hurrying home from work. They didn’t look at her, or even at the car, though she had the feeling the windows were tinted. Kazuo Haruno, wealthy entrepreneur, found dead – surely that would be covered by media. What of his daughter’s disappearance? If only she could doubt her certainty. Noticing a discarded paper flapping about at the sidewalk, buffeted by the winds she could not feel, Sakura tried to picture a photo of her father and herself on the cover, preferably the one they had taken in Luxembourg two summers ago; she liked that one the most.

Listening to Uzumaki grumble beside her, Sakura considered her situation. It was a... unique one. The notion that this would happen to her had never cut quite as close as reality. Kazuo Haruno, Konosuke Ikeda... Sakura Haruno. Names, just names. She smiled grimly, defiantly struggling to maintain a strong front, to give the impression that she would not let this break her.

Sakura withdrew from the window, the pane of glass which barred her from the rest of the world. She leaned backed into the headrest, exhaling slowly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she slipped into a thoughtless void, barely even registering that Naruto was studying her contemplatively, a flicker of curiosity and faint understanding kept sheltered in his eyes.

“You’re on the news,” he said shortly, and gave her a small smile when she opened her eyes and slowly turned her head toward him, jade eyes unfazed. To clarify, he nodded across the road. Sakura followed the movement, but no sooner had she spotted the newspaper stand did she realise that, tucked into a nook on the other side of the steering wheel, was a slim grey device. All suspicions of telepathy petered out.

“You have a GPS,” she deadpanned. It was near impossible to discern genuine surprise from mock as Naruto inspected the gadget with sudden interest, studying it as if he had absolutely no idea how it had escaped his notice when he had no doubt been looking at it while driving.

“Ah, so I do,” he agreed finally, giving her a culpable shrug. “Oops.” He said it as if to draw a smile from her, or even a groan of disbelief. She gave him neither. Unperturbed, Naruto shrugged again, twisted around to toss the street directory onto the back seats, and began fiddling with the GPS.

Sakura did not look away. She watched him, but at the same time took in none of his actions. The longer she stared at his features, the clearer she could see her father’s body, bleeding mercilessly on the worn carpet. Then the features of Uzumaki’s face abruptly began to transform; his jaw line roughed up with stubble, familiar contours rose like the birth of a new continent... the corners of his eyes crinkled, just the way Father’s used to...

At last, finding it impossible to bear, she tore her eyes away, breathing shallowly. The mechanical beeping sounds faltered, but when she sneaked a glance at him, Naruto was still scrolling down the GPS’ menu.

She couldn’t even look at him at the moment. “You ruined my life.”

He evenly pressed another button. “I forgot to ask you earlier – do you like McDonald’s or KFC?”

KFC, because she and her father had celebrated her birthday there. “McDonald’s.”

With a cool nod, he entered in the details, locating the nearest restaurant, and she wondered if he had even planned anything beforehand. Minutes later, he pulled the car out of the spot, following the first set of spoken instructions that the GPS relayed to him. Sakura had been sighing and berating herself for agreeing to this when his low voice intruded on her thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” The inquiry actually stunned her for a fraction of a second. Somehow, Sakura had thought that Uzumaki was frequently aware of each thought that crossed her mind. Although he mucked up at times, she could tell that he was in perfect control of his composure, and he was never uncertain, hardly ever doubting his decisions. He could read her so well. And yet he had to ask.

Sakura delayed her reply by leaning forward to play with the radio again. Naruto did not prompt her. Barely a minute later, she came across a channel broadcasting a news report, and instantly switched it off. She didn’t need this right now.

“Sakura.” There was patience in his voice and she knew then that he would not be satisfied without a reasonable answer.

“I’m wondering how far hatred can get me.” She looked sideways at Uzumaki. “What do you think?”

He was silent for a moment, thinking, his eyes glazing to the point where she worried he would lose control of the vehicle. “Pretty far. But sooner or later you’ll hit a dead end.”

“Are you saying I can’t hate you forever?”

“Well, that’s for both of us to find out, isn’t it?”

“We never will,” she said firmly. She waited for his reaction – expecting an amused smirk or a belated word of protest – but he only began to hum again.

-

Naruto liked to think that he was learning. Learning what, exactly? He didn’t know. How to interact with others, perhaps. For someone who had lived in solitude for so long, he was amazed to discover how silence could render the atmosphere between two people awkward. He found himself unable to control the amount of small talk that gushed forth from his over-eager mouth, and the more Sakura Haruno ignored him, the harder he persisted.

As curious as he was to know what she was thinking, he realised, as the GPS repeatedly squawked that he had taken the wrong turn, that he barely knew what was going through his own mind. Taking Sakura to the ball had been a drastic risk, but he’d been able to suppress her will to escape with threats. Now this? He was surprising himself. If the Agency got wind of this, he’d be in more trouble than he could comprehend.

“You’re about to miss it again.” Since she had grown progressively quieter upon entering the town, Sakura’s voice almost startled him. Almost, because nothing short of his deceased mentor springing back to life could truly startle him.

Tuning back into his surroundings, Naruto found that Sakura was right. He quickly switched lanes before the lights turned, and rounded into the McDonald’s car park. She must be pretty fed up with his driving by now. He would hazard a guess and say that she was fed up with him.

Naruto parked the car in a vacant spot and turned off the engine. He turned to Sakura, who gave him an unreadable glance before promptly averting her gaze again. “So, what do you want to eat?”

Her reply definitely took him aback. “Do you have split personalities?”

He blinked, then tilted his head. “No. Why would you ask that?”All he received was a shrug. “Oh come on, don’t be like that.”

He had been told that he had a penetrating stare. It didn’t take much to see if it worked with Sakura. Before long, he had her squirming uncomfortably in her seat. “I just don’t understand you,” she grumbled.

Naruto lowered his hands, trying to recall when he had raised them in a helpless gesture. “I just don't understand you...” Now why did that ring bells? Hadn’t he heard that from someone else before? Ino, most likely. It definitely sounded like the sort of thing she would say.

His actions must be so very suspicious to Sakura. He had seen movies where a kidnapper would lock his victim up in a remote shed, gagged and bound roughly to a rotting chair, all the while demanding a ransom. But he wasn’t doing any of that. If anyone found out that Sakura Haruno was under his custody... it would be unbelievably messy.

Why did I bring her out again?

Alternative rock music thumped from the speakers in the car while Naruto gazed perplexedly at his reflection in the side mirror. Beside him, Sakura released her seatbelt, but instead of scrabbling at the lock and making an anticipated getaway, she merely shifted onto her side, away from him. Looking at her back made him feel uncomfortable. He hadn’t known Konosuke Ikeda was an important person to her. He doubted knowing would have had an impact on the outcome though – orders were orders – but he felt that he would have at least retained the tact to keep her uninformed.

He truly felt sorry, which was extremely uncharacteristic of him. Guilt was a confusing emotion that he hardly ever saw the need to experience. Naruto glanced at the restaurant and at the children running wild in the playground. Had he thought that he could somehow make it up to her this way? It wasn’t like an unhealthy dose of junk food would miraculously heal a person. Just how stupid was he?

He knew, though. Naruto simply could not hurt innocents. The tattered morals and ethics that he lived by held him back from striking Sakura Haruno. Unfortunately, that only complicated matters tenfold.

“Hey.” He laid a hand on her head, gently, like he was much older than her. Which he wasn’t. She shuffled and he noticed her elbow jerk with the contact, but she did not snap at him. Naruto grimaced and hesitantly pulled away. “Is a burger and fries alright for you?” No reply. “I’m going to order if you’re not going to say anything.” This time, he was rewarded with a miniscule jerk of head that he almost missed. “Okay then.”

Despite all the irrational steps he had taken, Naruto was nowhere near dense enough to leave Sakura alone in the car, or even take her inside with him. He started the car up and joined the short line of vehicles at the drive-through. As they waited, he wondered if he should remind her that he was more than capable of speeding off and leaving her body in the dirt if she tried anything suspicious.

Before he could do so, however, the line moved up. With one last look at Sakura’s turned back, Naruto placed an order for large fries, a Filet-O-Fish burger and a Chicken Nugget 12 Pack. The smiling girl, younger than him in appearance, asked him what drink he would like: one Coke and, after a second of thought, one Mountain Dew. He noticed the girl peek pryingly inside at Sakura as she handed him his change and directed him further up the line to pick up his meal. He tensed, but she didn’t seem to recognise the heiress. They moved on without commotion.

All at once, Naruto realised why Sakura had withdrawn. She was restraining herself from bolting while the car was stopped and minimising the chances of people recognising her. She knew consequences down to the last letter.

“I really didn’t know about Ikeda,” Naruto felt the need to tell her when they were on the road again, two brown takeaway bags and drinks sitting between them.

“What’s it to you?” she asked sullenly. The moment she talked, he knew that his assumption had been correct. I’m actually starting to understand her a little, he thought. He never thought he would see the day.

“I’m just trying to-”

“Alright,” Sakura interrupted, her voice rising. Then she stopped and breathed deeply. “You didn’t know,” she continued. “Fine. Just drop it already. If you really want to feel better, ask God if I can have Uncle Konosuke and my father back.” She hadn’t expected guilt from him at all, but she found herself unimpressed by his confession.

“You know that’s impossible.” He’d had to accept that crushing reality years ago, that the blood on his hands would not flow back into the broken body he had just shredded through.

“Stop it, Uzumaki. I don’t want to attack you while you’re driving.”

Naruto opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He drove them to a nearby beach that he frequented and stopped the car at a ledge that overlooked the sea. Sakura should have noticed by now that he hadn’t needed to use his GPS; getting lost had been a facade. A silly one. He had simply wanted to see how she would react, and true to his premise he had been able to see a different side of Sakura Haruno. The annoyed side.

He reached into one of the bags and took out the fries. He offered the packet to Sakura, concurrently stuffing a handful in his mouth. She stared at it for a moment. Then she took one – just one, holding it delicately, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “You don’t like it?” Naruto asked, a little incredulously. He had been living off takeout until he had aimlessly decided that he would cook while Sakura Haruno was with him.

She shook her head and popped it in her mouth. “I just don’t eat a lot of junk food, that’s all,” she muttered.

He gestured to the two drinks. “Which one do you want?” She took the Mountain Dew and he smiled when she bit deeply into the burger. “Do you think we could try to be friends for one day?” he suggested.

The look in Sakura’s eyes was baleful. “Not unless I can forget what you’ve done. And I can’t. So no.”

“But I’ve helped you.”

“And you’ve hurt me.”

“Not intentionally.”

She pointed to her head. “Excuse me?” she said bitingly.

“... Not since that one.” He took a sip of Coke but it tasted bitter somehow. The liquid fizzed and burned down his throat like alcohol. “I’m trying to be nice here. If you’d just cooperate-”

She let him say no more. “Think about what you’re saying, Uzumaki!” It appeared that she would very much like to throw her drink at him. “You can let me out right now, let me go home – but my life will never be the same. Not even if I want it to be. Do you understand? I’ll never be able to forget.”

Forget? No, she was right. Forgetting wasn’t easy at all.

“So are you saying,” he began, “that there’s no difference between letting you go and keeping you with me?” Her eyes widened at his words. “Is that what you mean?”

“I...” Stumped for words, Sakura’s mouth hung open. But just when Naruto thought that he had cracked her, she launched herself back into the scrimmage with a pain stricken, “No.” He raised an eyebrow and she ploughed on. “I’ll be free of you. I won’t have to wake up and wonder if today will be my last day alive. I won’t have to look at you and realise that Father was looking at the exact same thing before he died. That’s the difference.” By now, her voice was trembling and her fingers had pressed unsightly gouges into her burger. Barbeque sauce slowly oozed out, spreading thickly on her hand.

Silently, he handed her a serviette. The gesture brought a cornered gleam to Sakura’s eyes but she concealed it by snatching the napkin. She shakily wiped the sauce off. The procedure seemed to have therapeutic effects, working the anxious jerks out of her movements. Naruto gulped down another mouthful of Coke while she composed herself.

“That man – Ikeda... his death was ordered because he refused to give up his share of your father’s company.” Sakura’s head came up immediately. He had spent the previous night on the phone pressing for more details from the only person at the Agency willing to help him. “He said that only Kazuo Haruno’s daughter could claim ownership of his property, not foreigners who tried to absorb the company into their own. The ball that night was a meeting to convince the remaining shareholders. Your Uncle Konosuke believed you were alive.”

He had never felt the aftermath of remorse so strongly before, bar his first kill. It was his fault, he knew. Taking Sakura Haruno and keeping her by his side had caused his conscience to reach out to her. He knew her. That was why he felt so bad.

His frown deepened. “You’re crying.”

In a valiant attempt to look strong, Sakura dashed the tears from her eyes, sniffing. “So?” The defiant look in her eyes reminded him of... himself.

“It’s bad to keep those tears locked in, you know. It’s better to let them out.”

She ignored him altogether. Sighing, Naruto brought his drink to his lips again. Empty. He crumpled it without second thought, but paused when Sakura winced at the violent grating. He gingerly dropped the crushed can into the bag, pulling out the chicken nuggets instead. “You want some?” he asked Sakura. An anticipated shake of head somehow drained the appetite from him. He forced down a couple anyway.

Sakura’s cheeks glistened with silent tears when they drove back. Naruto could hear them spatter against the back of her hand as they fell. “I don’t even know what I’m crying about,” she muttered midway, though she made no attempt to wipe her face.

“Onions, maybe?”

Even with red eyes her glare was admirable. “Very funny, Uzumaki.” She did not sound spiteful, not even when he chuckled. In essence, the poorly made joke could have been mocking her, and although that had not been his intention, Sakura could well have interpreted it that way.

He soon came to understand why she was tolerating him. It came abruptly. “I’m glad.” Sakura’s words sounded rushed and she seemed to realise it. Slowing down, she elaborated. “I’m glad that Uncle Konosuke wasn’t killed for other reasons.” ‘Other reasons’ had to be her doubt that illegal activities had been involved. He understood; people weren’t ordered to be killed for no reason. “It sort of tells me that Father was...”

“Innocent,” Naruto filled in for her, speaking the word softly. Like you.

Sakura nodded, the drying tracks of her tears glimmering. “Don’t get too used to hearing this, but... thank you, Uzumaki. I still hate you though,” she added informatively.

Confused by the unexpected gratitude, Naruto completely missed his cue to reply. The car swept into his apartment’s garage, plunging the interior in the yellowish glow of the overhead lights. Sakura’s poker face gave him little chance to confirm if he had truly heard what he had. He did hear something that sounded suspiciously like ‘baka’ when he got out of the car though.

-

Father,

You know I don’t keep diaries. I’m thinking of this as a letter. I wish you could answer me, Father. I’m going to go mad if I keep all these thoughts to myself. I wish you were here.

I don’t know how to think of Uzumaki anymore. I tolerate him when I can and just ignore him when I can’t. He keeps smiling at me now and I swear he is becoming more like a kid with each day. It’s almost like he has something to prove. What? That he isn’t that bad? I thought he had established that already. Even I have to admit that he could have been someone much worse. He’s just so young that I can’t think of him as what he really is.

He’s making me watch television with him after dinner every day since we came back from that trip to town last week. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He puts on a DVD and we watch it. He’s waiting for me to say something, I know. I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.

Tonight he asked me about revenge. He asked me what I thought about the person who had ordered yours and Uncle Konosuke’s deaths. I told him I didn’t know. No matter how hard I think about it, I can’t imagine myself avenging you. I know I can’t do it. That’s not what you want, is it? I’m sorry I can’t do anything about your company, Father. I will when I get out of here though, I promise.

I shouldn’t be writing in this diary. I don’t trust Uzumaki to keep his word. Do you think he will look if I hide it in the underwear drawer?

I miss you, Father. I feel silly for writing to you. It’s not like you’ll write back... but... let’s not think about that. But if you do somehow read this and appear in my dreams or something, could you please tell me something? Is there really a limit to hatred?

---

This fic is no longer just an experiment, I think. It's actually a challenge to write Naruto in a modern setting, with such a different set of characteristics. There are times when I really can't tell if the character I'm writing is even Naruto anymore. This chapter was unbelievably hard to write. I spent at least two hours trying to wrap up it up. I'm pretty confused with it myself, actually.

The feedback I got from the last chapter was pretty interesting. Some people like Naruto in this AU, some don't. It's good to have these opinions. Readers are able to see much more of the story than the author (which is probably why there are always typos no matter how many times I proofread).

Also, just a little heads up. I just made a blog to keep track of my updates. If anyone wants to see how far I am in the next chapter for each of my multichapter stories, you can get the link from my profile.