Hello, Yesterday?

Have you forgotten tomorrow? She tried to stay with you.

But you left her with sorrow.

She cried out the week,

She drowned Saturday,

April tried to comfort her,

But then ran off with May,

Now she's all alone, darling,

The weathers been crying,

Yesterday, can you comeback?


"If I said yes, I would be lying…"


::_Caamalot's Frøs Hjerte_::

"Camelot, located nowhere in particular, can be anywhere. It is lost. Just like your heart."


"Don't drag your feet."

"Stop slouching."

"Look me in the eyes when I talk to you."

"Children should be seen and not heard."

"No seconds! Do you want to get fat?"

'I'm not dragging my feet, I can't help the fact that I slouch, your eyes intimidate me when I look at them, and nobody could get chubbier than you, you fat cow.'

Like she could actually say that and live to see the light of day again.

"Hai, Je suis désolé madam," Sakura replied robotically. How else was she to reply?

I'm sorry

So very sorry.

"You should be sorry! If you do not listen how could you ever be good enough to serve the prince? Do you want to embarrass him with your childish ways?" The head chambermaid shook her head with disappointment. "It is such a shame that not a more fitting girl was presented in time. Such a pity…"

Sakura set her eyes downcast in what was supposed to resemble remorse, or self-disappointment. In truth she felt nothing. She hadn't felt anything since she was admitted into the castle grounds.

The gates had sucked her miseries away when she entered them. Apparently they had sucked all of her remaining emotions along with it.

Not that she wanted them.

What are emotions?

They are the hearts way of speaking.

Fore when you have no mouth to speak of,

How else could you voice them?

But what if you don't want them?

Those useless emotions?

They only show weakness,

And speak out of turn.


What are emotions?

They are riddles of the heart.

Think too hard

And your heart will explode.


"Sakura-chan? Are you listening to me?"

"Hai, madam, I was merely lost in reflection on my poor attributes."

The head chambermaid nodded slowly, still eying the girl carefully. She couldn't tell whether or not the girl was telling the truth or not, not that it actually cared. In a few weeks she would out of her wing anyway.

"I was saying that you will be presented to his majesty on his birthday." The 23rd of July. That was less than a week away.

"And, pray tell, Madam, how old will my new master be?" Sakura asked cautiously, wanting to sound excited, instead of uncaring.

Being scolded was such a bother.

"He will be 14 years old. Such a good age, don't you think?" The woman replied dreamily.

Sakura sighed. Hopefully when she turned 14 it would end up being a good age for her, too. Not that she would ever be so fortunate. And not that she cared in the slightest.

"You're dismissed for the day. Leave me before I decide to do something rash."

And pray tell, what would that be?

Trudging slowly to her bedchamber, Sakura's feet grew a mind of their own and decided that another course was necessary for the day. Not following any path in particular her feet clumsily led her outside to a private garden somewhere in the middle of the castle.

And Little maiden, what did you see?

A young girl with midnight blue hair and hollow white eyes peered up at the disturbance. Shears were clutched tightly in her right hand, and a rose in the other.

"C-can I help you with something?" the mystery garderner asked.

"Name?" Sakura asked casually.

"E-excuse me?" The pupilless eyes blinked questioningly.

"What is your name?" Sakura tried again.

The girl took her time to answer, seemingly wary of the presence before her.

"Hyuuga Hinata, the Cottar of the castle, how can I help you?"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Haruno Sakura, Chamberlain. You can do nothing for me, but hand me a rose."

Hinata nodded, and gingerly handed Sakura a red rose.


What is red?

Red is Love

Red is lust

Red are lips

Red is dust

Red is mud

Red is color

Silly Child.

Red is Blood.


Sakura held the rose in a steady gaze. She ran her hands over the prickly thorns and stroked the petals. Gradually the caressing of the thorns turned into pressured strokes, cutting the hands of the girl.

"Haruno-san! You're bleeding! Stop! I'll call for the head Chamber-maid!"

"Don't worry Hyuuga-san, It doesn't hurt anymore." Sakura whispered casually, watching the blood of her hands pool slowly in her palm. Hinata watched fearfully as the child flexed her fingers, letting excess blood drip off onto the ground below.

The emerald eyes, that were mesmerized with the crimson liquid just moments before flashed back momentarily to meet milky white ones.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Hyuuga-san, but I need to go now."

Hinata nodded her head quickly, not comprehending the situation at hand. How odd the pink haired girl was.

Sakura stood up with her rose and promptly left the hidden garden, re-entering the palace walls. Her quick steps echoed down the long corridor as she made her way back to her room. The tall windows in the hallway reflected her tainted image as she strode past them. She stopped abruptly and turned around and went back to the window. Hands still bleeding, she used her blood as ink as she drew a crocked heart on the windowpane. Satisfied with her work, she turned her heel and returned back to her unsatisfactory adventure to her room.

When she was out of sight another figure came into view. They stopped at the window, admiring her work.

"What is a heart really, but a useless fool, like a jester in a court."

Their dark eyes traced the bloodstain on the window searchingly, as if trying to decode a mystery. Using their index finger, they wiped a jagged line down the middle of the heart.

"Hearts are meant to be broken."

The person put their fingers to their lips, licking off the blood, their eyes flashing as the window frosted over.

So cold

Like ice

Freezing the heart forever.


'I want you to lock my heart in an icebox

Throw away the key

Let it freeze and stop beating

Take away its misery'


"Is your heart broken Sasuke-sama?"

::Chapter 2::



Cottar: The lowest of peasantry, as a result they preformed the lowest jobs.


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