The first time they met was because of his job. She stood at the far end of the room chatting animatedly to one of the guests. Against his better judgment and work principles, he found himself approaching her lithe form.

"Interesting party?" He asked signaling a waiter.

She turned around abruptly, her soft pink evening gown swishing with the motion. She gazed up at him with vivid green eyes that adorned a delicate face framed by pink tendrils.

Beautiful. The word entered his mind and he was shocked at its novelty. He never paid any unnecessary attention to women's appearances much less assign them adjectives.

"In a way, I suppose." She replied taking a drink from the waiter.

"Sasuke Uchiha." He said picking up another glass.

"Dr. Sakura Haruno." She replied.

"Doctor?" He inquired curiously.

"Yes. I'm a representative of Konoha Hospital. It's one of our duties to attend charity galas in addition to saving lives." She paused letting the meaning sink in. "And you Mr. Uchiha?"

"I'm here for a client." He answered. When she looked at him in confusion, he elaborated. "Private security."

"A bodyguard?" She asked amused.

"That's another way of putting it." He replied.

"Is it OK for you to leave your client's side then?" She probed.

"I cannot interfere with my client's activities." Never mind, that his actual client was not present in the gala.

"Oh." She uttered. Before she could say anything further, a voice called out claiming her attention. She turned back to him with an apologetic look. "I'm afraid duty calls. It was nice meeting you Mr. Uchiha."

"Likewise." He stated shaking her extended hand.

She moved away from him and, for a while, his eyes followed her through the crowd before they resumed their original task. His gaze fixed itself on his target — the real reason he was attending this boring gathering of the rich and ignorant — and he mentally revised his plan of attack. His job was to carry out his client's wishes and expertly rid the world of another wretched human. Failure was not an option — not for him.

The second time they met, he tracked her down to the free clinic where she worked. He stood looking at the building, holding a bouquet of red roses. He was baffled by his behavior; never before had he tried to look for a woman unrelated to his job or buy flowers for her. Perhaps, it was because it had been a while since he shared a bed with a woman and his needs were acting up. But whatever the reason, he could not deny that the pink-haired doctor had piqued his interest.

He found her inside the building, kneeling down in front of a young boy and examining him. Her hair was tied up and she wore a white doctor's coat making her look serious and professional unlike the fascinating beauty he had met in the gala. He approached her and waited until she finished her examination to catch her attention.

"Mr. Uchiha!" She exclaimed in surprise. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you here as a patient?"

"Please. Call me Sasuke. And no." He replied extending the bouquet. "I came to see you."

A faint blush marred her cheeks as she accepted the blossoms. "Well…this is certainly unexpected. How did you find out about this place?"

"I asked around." He lied. She looked at him curiously. "How about having some coffee with me?"

Her blush deepened. "Well, if you would wait for about thirty minutes Mr. Uchi—Sasuke, I'll be done here."

"Sounds good, Doctor." He answered.

"Please. Sakura." With that she walked away to attend another patient.

He looked around for a place to wait and found the little boy glaring at him. The boy's angry gaze followed him as he took his seat and he continued to glare at Sasuke until his mother, finally, took him away.

The third time they met, he took her to dinner in a fancy restaurant. Before, he never hand any trouble getting women in to his bed — a consequence of his good looks. The feisty doctor across from him, however, was giving him a hard time. Wooing, he had recalled dimly, helped in such cases. So he sat in the pompous dining room ringing with sappy music, listening to the lively conversation of the woman across from him and desperately hoping that his fixation would be cured tonight.

The eleventh time they met, he wanted to pummel the blond that was hugging her fiercely. He had come to pick her up at the hospital hoping for a quick snack together before her shift at the free clinic. Instead, he had found her in the arms of another man. Irritated, he approached the duo.

"Sakura." He said coldly garnering her attention and looking between her and the blond.

"Sasuke!" She replied cheerfully. After a moment, she continued, "Sasuke, this is my friend Naruto Uzumaki. Naruto, this is Sasuke. He is…" — she stared at him questioningly — "a friend."

Sasuke stared at the man. He seemed to be around his age and had blond hair, blue eyes, and whisker-like marks on his cheeks giving him a rough, handsome appearance. He was well-built and kept himself in shape which evidenced a job that required a lot of physical activity. The blond — Naruto — was wearing a frown and inspecting him with an intense gaze.

"Well, Sakura." Naruto said not taking his eyes off him. "I better be going. See you later then!"

With a final hostile glare at him, the blond left leaving him and Sakura standing outside the hospital.

Sakura started walking. "So what are we going to have today?"

Sasuke followed and, ignoring her question, voiced his annoyance. "A friend…hn. His manner was too friendly for just a friend."

She stopped and stared up at him. "Are you jealous?"

He turned his face away from her amused stare and scratched an imaginary itch on his face. "Of course not! I'm just pointing it out!"

She laughed vivaciously drawing his attention to her and stirring him.

"Naruto is just my childhood friend." She explained. "We're very close."

He felt his annoyance abate at her explanation.

"Although, he used to have a pretty serious crush on me." She remarked mischievously.

Sasuke's exasperation increased again and he looked towards her to find her grinning impishly. She looped her arm through his, shocking him momentarily and making him forget about his annoyance.

"At one time." She said laughing. "Now he has a wife he is head over heels in love with and a baby on the way!"

Temporarily appeased by her explanation, he allowed himself to be enthusiastically pulled by her. Nevertheless, he suspected that Naruto's feelings towards this charming doctor were not purely platonic. Still, it was not his concern and he put it out of his mind. But why was he feeling so irritated?

The twenty-third time they met, he stood outside her door in blood-stained clothes and immense pain. The job had gone south and he had been hit by one of his target's bodyguard. On such occasions, he usually went back to his apartment and treated himself while replaying the mission in his head instead of going to the hospital. This time, however, instead of going to his own house, he ended up in front of hers.

She opened the door sleepily but became instantly alert when she took in his appearance. She heaved him in and bustled about readying her equipment. The clink of metal and rustle of plastic soothed him as he lay on the couch. Before long, he felt gentle hands on him, prying apart his blood-stained shirt, removing his makeshift bandage, and treating his wound.

She asked no questions and for that he was grateful. He wondered if she thought he got wounded while protecting someone. Even if she did, he had no plans to correct her. He did not want to taint her innocence by the dark the world of hitmen.

She cared for him diligently until he was declared healthy and for the first time in twenty years, he was reminded of the comfort of being nursed back to health.

The thirty-first time they met, he truly became aware of the difference between them. She was talking excitedly about her day recalling a major surgery that saved a little girl's life. He realized then that they were opposites. She was the light and he was the dark; she tried her best to save lives and he tried his best to take them away. They were from different worlds and should have never met, but, no matter how hard he tried, he could not separate himself from her company. He no longer questioned his fixation for her; he had himself convinced that it was probably because it reminded him of the feelings he had not felt in twenty years. And it was for that reason he could not let go of her now.

The forty-third time they met, he whisked her off to a flower garden in a chartered plane. Every visible area of the enclosure was covered in blossoms spanning the colors of the rainbow, their scents mingling in the cool breeze. He felt an inexplicable happiness at watching her reaction; her eyes glinted brightly and her face split in to a joyful smile.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, and asked, "You smell that?"

"Flowers?" He replied not ceasing his perusal of her.

She let out a small laugh and took in another deep breath. "Spring! Spring has arrived!"

With that she ran away towards flowers. He stared lovingly at her twirling figure dancing amongst the vibrant blooms and felt color stubbornly penetrate his somber life. And he silently agreed; spring had arrived.

The fifty-ninth time they met, he was sitting outside her door drenched by the torrential rain.

"Sasuke!" He heard her exclaim as the rain stopped. He looked up to see her covering him with her umbrella as she searched for her keys. "What are you doing out here? It's pouring! You should've gone in! At least use the key in this weather!"

She had given him the spare key to her place a few months back but he always made a conscious effort never to use it. He always came here when he was certain she would be home and left before her. She had asked him in the beginning why he always made her open the door for him but he had always averted her questions. Eventually, she had stopped asking.

He could not tell that her home had become his sanctuary; it was filled with her presence and he wanted her there with him — always. Never again did he want to come home to an empty house filled with only the scents of those dear to him. He could not bear it a second time.

So he had waited patiently by the front door, ignoring the rain that soaked his clothes and chilled his body. He waited for his beacon of light to let him in to his haven and shelter him from the reality that awaited him outside.

The sixty-seventh time they met, she ignored his objections and dragged him to a casual dinner with friends. He sat next to her and across from the energetic blond she called her best friend, their mutual dislike obvious in their hostile glares. A striking woman, who was introduced as his wife, sat next to Naruto; her long indigo hair, gentle silvery eyes, and kind demeanor a remarkable contrast from her partner's loud enthusiasm. The atmosphere at their table was animated with Sakura and Naruto carrying most of the conversation. He, too, was forced to participate and teased as if he were an old friend. And as the evening wore on, the conversations became less formal and more vivacious. That evening, for the first time, he felt friendly companionship.

The eighty-third time they met, he questioned if Sakura realized the extent of his presence in her home. The bathroom now had two toothbrushes instead of one and the shelves were lined with aftershave and other assorted men's toiletries. His clothes hung next to hers in her closet and his shoes were placed beside hers by the door. He rarely visited his own place anymore preferring her company over the austerity and loneliness of his small apartment.

He watched her get ready in front of the large mirror; tying her silky pink hair, adorning her face with subtle makeup, and putting on the inexpensive, hand-crafted accessories that she liked. He wondered if the diamond ring he saw in the jewelry shop window would look good on her.

The last time they met was because of his job. She let him in her home dressed in pajamas, her hair bunched at the top of her head, and a smear of chocolate by her full pink lips. She asked about his day, her love and happiness conveying itself through her wide smile and animated chatter. He muttered something illegible to him but she probably understood because she kissed him in return.

"I'll fix something for you." She announced exiting the room. His eyes never left her.

He followed her in to the kitchen as she assembled the ingredients to make him a light meal. He placed himself behind her trapping her against the counter with his larger frame.

"Sakura." He voiced wrenching the words through his clogged throat.

"Hmm?" She continued with her task.

"Turn around." He whispered softly against her hair, his voice laced with emotion.

She complied and stared up at him with amused, love-filled eyes. He wrapped his left arm around her, holding her against him, and with his right hand, he pulled the trigger.

He saw the love in her eyes turn in to a question and watch as the vivid, green eyes he loved were slowly drained of their liveliness.

It was over and yet he did not feel the usual joy at being one step closer to his goal. Instead, he felt a sharp, excruciating ache in his heart as he felt her body slack. He had only felt that pain twice before; once when he came home to find his parents murdered in cold blood and then again when he discovered how his brother was manipulated to turn against his own family.

He had been ecstatic when he received the hit two days before and was informed that its successful completion would bring him face to face with his family's murderers. It was what he had worked for obsessively for the past twenty years and now it was just a step away. He had readied himself anticipating the pleasure he would feel annihilating those who had destroyed his life. The agonizing memories clawed at his deep wounds and fueled his anger. Until he saw the target.

He had been in a dilemma since then; divided between avenging his family and protecting the woman who had come to mean so much to him. In the end, however, his pain and anger at having witnessed his parents' cold-blooded murder at the hands of his elder brother and the discovery of his beloved brother's manipulation by those who sought chaos won, and he found himself at Sakura's front door.

Yet, as he held the woman's motionless body, he felt no enthusiasm for accomplishing his lifelong objective. Instead, intense pain and misery overtook him, eliciting a tormented scream. He slid to the floor cradling the lifeless woman, his tears leaving wet tracks on her pale face.

Minutes turned to hours and he sat immobile, apologizing, regretting. For the first time he recognized the firm grip vengeance had on him. It had festered inside him, poisoning him, until it had effortlessly maneuvered him in to snuffing his own happiness. And now it was too late. Blood stained them and pooled around them accusingly, reminding him of his crime.

Spring was over.

THE END