Disclaimer: I do not own this.
Short little Sakura fic, or just a gen fic
She was the kind of person meant to change the world. Maybe she would have. But one to many potshots changed that.
She wasn't brilliant, like her brothers, or her friends. But she had something that they never had. She could look at a problem, any problem and see a solution. Most of the time her solutions were not what others would have chosen, or even thought of. For that she was ridiculed. For her ideas and her logic she was harassed. But looking back, all of her solutions solved the problem, all of her logic worked.
There wasn't a logical box in the world that she couldn't fight her way out of. She was constrained by none of the other imaginary cubes that others were trapped in. She enjoyed proving her logic, showing how it worked. She seemed to believe that people who stayed comfortably curled up within their boxes would never change the world. They would never even know it, she would say.
She might have been a negotiator, she might have worked on peace treaties, she might have discovered the cure for a rare disease, or a rippe in the fabric of time. But she didn't, one by one her friends began to mock her, jealous of what they did not have. Hateful to what they couldn't understand.
Slowly, but surely each cutting remark, each offhand insult began to chip away at what was her. Slowly so slowly those that called themselves her friends began to notice that she wasn't the way she had been before. That she was calm and docile, and accepting of things where before she would have questioned, pointed out flaws, worked at it until it was the best, until even her twisted logic could not find fault. At first they were grateful, at first they assumed that it was because even she could find no fault with their logic, and they were pleased.
But slowly they began to notice, that they were no longer being praised for the ideas she helped them create, for the flawless reasoning that had come from her mind to their mouths, and they began to worry. They dangled in front of her things she loved to debate, they pushed her into logic holes that she would have once been itching to fill. She didn't bat an eyelash. She didn't disagree with anything they said. Her eyes were dull now, not filled with the fire that used to radiate from her.
More people flocked to her, for people like feeling superior and now that there was no fire inside, she was nothing more then average. She was kind to them, because she had always been kind, she would smile for them and laugh at their jokes and people loved her. Slowly they began to forget about who she once was, about the fire that burned as much as it warmed.
Only a few remembered her before that part of her died. And they considered themselves cursed, for it is always better when you do not know what you have lost. They look at her everyday, with her dead eyes and empty smile, and they know that she would have changed the world.