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The streets of Konoha buzzed with the lively energy of the Chuunin Exams. Shinobi from all over the world had gathered, their vibrant headbands and unique styles creating a kaleidoscope of colors as they moved between training grounds and arenas. Among the sea of ninja, one stood out—not because of his towering height or the unmistakable blue tint of his skin, but because he was entirely focused on keeping his students in line.
“Yuta, stop messing with the kunai,” Kisame Hoshigaki growled, his deep voice cutting through the chatter of his three genin. “You’ll end up cutting your fingers off before the exam even starts.”
“Sorry, sensei!” the smallest of the three chirped, though he clearly wasn’t sorry at all.
Kisame rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. Babysitting three overenthusiastic kids was more exhausting than any battle he’d ever been in, but it came with its own kind of satisfaction. He led his team through the village, keeping an eye on them while secretly taking in his surroundings.
It wasn’t Kisame’s first time in Konoha, but it was the first time he’d been here without the weight of A to S-ranked missions bearing down on him. These days, life was simpler. Teaching. Missions. Rebuilding. Mei Terumi had seen to it that the Mist moved forward, and Kisame had finally found some semblance of peace in his work as a jonin instructor.
Still, there was one thing—or rather, one person—on his mind.
He hadn’t expected to think about her again after all these months, but Konoha was her home. And just knowing he was in the same village made his heart beat a little faster.
Sakura Haruno.
It had all started a year ago, back in Kiri, when Mei had spoken of a young kunoichi from Konoha who’d made waves during the war. “A medical prodigy,” Mei had called her, “who could rebuild a shattered ribcage in minutes and flatten an entire battlefield in seconds. She was the one who took down Sasori of the Red Sand along with Chiyo-sama.”
At the time, Kisame hadn’t thought much of it. Prodigies were a dime a dozen, and war stories had a tendency to be exaggerated.
But then, he’d seen her.
She had been in Kiri for a brief diplomatic mission, representing the Hokage alongside Nara Shikamaru. Kisame had caught sight of her near the docks—her pink hair unmistakable in the crowd. She had been laughing at something Shikamaru said, her expression so bright it almost felt out of place in the Mist’s gray, overcast surroundings.
It wasn’t just her beauty that struck him, though that was undeniable. It was the way she carried herself—confident yet approachable, with a warmth that seemed to draw people in. For a moment, Kisame had been rooted to the spot, watching her like some starstruck academy kid.
She’d left Kiri that same day, and Kisame hadn’t seen her since. But the memory of her had lingered, much to his annoyance. He wasn’t some lovesick fool, and he had no business pining after someone he’d never even spoken to.
Yet here he was, walking the streets of Konoha and wondering if he’d run into her again.
“Sensei, are you even listening?”
Kisame blinked, snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of his eldest genin, Ren. The boy had an irritated look on his face, his arms crossed as he stared up at his teacher.
“Sorry, what?” Kisame said, scratching the back of his neck.
Ren sighed. “I said, where are we going now? We’ve already been to the training grounds and the registration desk.”
“Food,” Kisame said decisively. “You brats need to eat before you embarrass me in the exams tomorrow.”
“Sweet!” Kiko cheered, immediately bolting ahead.
“Don’t run off!” Kisame called after her, sighing heavily. He was about to follow when something—or someone—caught his attention.
Pink hair.
She was across the street, standing outside a flower shop and chatting with an older woman. A soft smile graced her lips as she held a bouquet of lilies, her other hand gesturing animatedly as she spoke.
Kisame’s chest tightened. There she was, as radiant as he remembered.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about approaching her. But what would he even say? “Hey, I’m the guy who was known as Monster of The Hidden Mist, but now I teach kids and have had a ridiculous crush on you since I saw you in Kiri”? Yeah, that’d go over well.
So instead, he stayed where he was, watching her from a distance like some lovestruck idiot.
The streets around him seemed to blur, the noise fading into a dull hum as he lost himself in the sight of her. He saw her laugh at something the older woman said, her shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. She looked so... vibrant, so alive, and it struck him just how much he’d missed seeing her, missed being around someone who wasn’t constantly trying to cut him down or flee in terror.
“Sensei, are you coming or not?”
Kisame blinked, tearing his gaze away from Sakura. Ren’s voice pulled him back to reality with a jolt. The boy was standing a little ways off, one hand on his hip, an impatient look on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Kisame grumbled, forcing himself to look away.
But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder one last time, hoping she wouldn’t disappear before he got the chance to finally meet her.
The thought of her, with her pink hair and gentle smile, filled him with an unexpected warmth—like a beacon in the cold, gray fog that had long been his only company.
Kisame had never been nervous before. Not during life-or-death missions, not when facing down entire squads of enemies, and certainly not when walking into a room full of Konoha’s finest shinobi. But now, sitting in the observation balcony of the Chuunin Exam arena, his foot tapped an uncharacteristically uneven rhythm against the floor.
The exams had started smoothly enough, with his three little brats handling themselves decently in the first round. But the second round was still hours away, and that left him… restless.
And then, as if fate had a wicked sense of humor, he saw her again.
The sight of her was a jolt to his system, as though the world had been tilted off its axis.
Sakura Haruno.
Her cheeks rosy from the afternoon sun, her body softly curvaceous in a way that spoke of strength rather than fragility. There was an unapologetic grace to her movements, her tailored blouse and skirt emphasizing the chubby, womanly lines of her figure—a stark contrast to the often harsh, utilitarian attire of most shinobi.
Every glance her way seemed to ignite some buried part of him, something he hadn’t realized he’d kept locked away. The whispers around her only fueled his ire, reminding him of the disdain that had followed her in Kiri and now here in Konoha.
“Isn’t she the Hokage’s apprentice?” one voice murmured, filled with derision.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t look like much of a fighter, does she?” another snickered, their laughter laden with disbelief and mockery.
Kisame’s jaw clenched. He had heard enough of that sort of talk to last a lifetime.
Mei Terumi’s words replayed in his mind, the quiet assurance in her voice when she spoke of Sakura’s skills; “She’s not just talented,” Mei had said, her voice tinged with both pride and caution. “She’s terrifyingly capable. The kind of person who doesn’t need to rely on flash or bravado because her results speak for themselves.” Kisame didn’t need Mei’s words; he’d seen Sakura in action, her hands moving with a grace and precision that defied the skepticism of those around her. She was a fighter, not because of her appearance, but because of her strength and determination.
“Sensei, you’re staring,” Ren’s voice broke through his thoughts, teasing and knowing.
Kisame blinked, realizing with a start just how long he’d been caught up in watching her. “Mind your business,” he grumbled, his voice gruffer than he intended as he flicked Ren’s forehead.
“Ow! You’re not denying it, though,” Ren shot back, rubbing his forehead with an irritating grin.
Kisame’s skin burned with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to this—to feeling out of control over his emotions, especially not in front of his students. But it was impossible to ignore the way his heart stumbled whenever he saw her. He turned away, unwilling to show any more of the churning emotions inside him, yet he couldn’t help but steal a final glance in her direction. There was a stubborn part of him that wished for just a moment more in her presence, a desire he couldn’t explain, but one that was undeniably there.
Kisame’s initial shock at seeing Sakura again had morphed into an unexpected blend of nervousness and… something else. As they sat together in the bustling food court, her soft, round cheeks flushed from the heat of the day, he couldn’t help but study her every move. She seemed so out of place amidst the casual conversations and laughter of the other competitors and their teams—both delicate and surprisingly strong. Her soft, rounded features, a stark contrast to the lean, chiseled faces he was used to, seemed to invite whispers and judgment from those around her. Yet, despite the self-consciousness she occasionally wore like a shield, Sakura didn’t let it deter her.
As she settled into the seat across from him, Kisame found himself inexplicably drawn to her, feeling a rare flutter of something he couldn’t define. It was an odd feeling, one he wasn’t accustomed to, especially not in the midst of the endless noise and chaos of shinobi life.
“N-no,” he stuttered, more out of surprise than anything else, when she asked if the seat was taken, and he immediately berated himself over it. How humiliating! And then she was there, her presence oddly calming in the midst of his usual solitude.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kisame focused on his drink, aware of her every movement as she began to eat with surprising gusto, as if she didn’t care who saw her indulging in the simple pleasure of food.
“Hope I’m not bothering you with all these,” she said, her tone light but tinged with self-consciousness as she gestured to the several lunchboxes sprawled across the table. Her cheeks were pink, not just from the day’s heat but also from a lifetime of battling judgment and whispers about her body and her choices.
Kisame raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “Why? Looks to me like you’re just enjoying your meal.” His voice was softer than he intended, the words coming from a place of genuine admiration rather than just a simple attempt at conversation.
“You’d be surprised how often I hear, ‘ Are you sure you need that much ?’” she rolled her eyes. “But honestly, if I’m going to smash boulders and heal entire squads, I need the energy.”
There was a quiet strength in her words, a fierce determination that Kisame hadn’t expected, and it stirred something deep within him.
A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him, startling her. “That’s exactly how you should see it. Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and then she smiled—a genuine, radiant smile that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to. “Thanks. That’s… refreshing to hear.” It wasn’t just her words; it was the relief in her eyes, the way her guard seemed to drop, making her not just a shinobi but a person, real and flawed and surprisingly human.
“Most people don’t know the first thing about strength,” Kisame said, leaning back in his chair. “They think it’s about looking a certain way, but real strength? That’s what gets the job done. And from what I’ve heard, you get the job done.”
Her cheeks turned pink—not from embarrassment, but from what looked like genuine appreciation. “You’ve… heard of me?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain, like she couldn’t quite believe it.
Kisame nodded, feeling strangely touched. “Hard not to, Haruno-san. You’re the Hokage’s apprentice, and word travels fast about people who take down S-rank threats like Sasori.”
Sakura tilted her head, a little skeptical. “And you are…?”
“Kisame Hoshigaki,” he said, holding out a hand. “Jonin from Kiri. I’m here for the exams.”
She shook his hand, her grip firm despite her smaller hand. “Nice to meet you, Hoshigaki-san. Also, thanks for not mentioning my mentor’s nickname—I get tired of hearing The second Tsunade .”
Kisame chuckled. “Trust me, anyone who’s seen you in action knows you’re your own force of nature.”
As the buzz of activity swirled around them, Kisame found himself relaxing in a way he hadn’t expected. Sitting across from Sakura, sharing casual conversation, felt oddly natural despite his usual preference for solitude.
“So,” she said between bites, her green eyes flicking up to meet his, “how’s your team so far? Think they’ll manage?”
Kisame nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “First-time participants, all of them. They’ve got potential, but they’re a handful. Especially Ren.”
“Ren… is he the one with the spiky hair and the big grin?”
“That’s the one.” Kisame smirked, leaning back slightly. “He’s got more confidence than skill, but he’s learning. Slowly.”
Sakura chuckled. “Sounds like someone I used to know. Naruto, one of my teammates, was exactly like that when we were kids. All bluster and no finesse. But, somehow, he always pulled through.”
Kisame tilted his head, intrigued. “Naruto Uzumaki, right? He’s the one who…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely, though they both knew he was referring to the boy’s reputation as a jinchūriki and hero of the war.
“Yeah,” Sakura’s expression softened. “He’s a handful too, but he’s got a good heart.”
For a moment, the conversation settled into an easy silence. Kisame studied her as she returned to her meal, noticing how her guard had dropped. She was at ease, but she didn’t realize how striking that made her—how her confidence radiated through the smallest gestures. He didn’t intend to speak, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“You’re not what I expected.”
Sakura paused mid-bite, blinking. “What do you mean?”
Kisame exhaled through his nose, trying to tread carefully. “When you hear about someone who’s taken down an S-rank shinobi or healed an entire battlefield, you expect…” He gestured vaguely, searching for the right words. “Someone larger than life. Intimidating.”
Sakura raised an eyebrow, half amused. “And instead, you got…”
“Someone who looks like they could bake cookies for a neighborhood bake sale,” Kisame’s lips twitched into a smirk.
For a moment, Sakura stared at him, her expression unreadable.
Then, to his relief, she burst into laughter.
“That’s a new one,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Usually, it’s something about how I don’t look like a shinobi at all.”
Kisame shrugged, his smirk softening into something closer to a smile. “Anyone who thinks that is a fool. You’ve got more strength in one punch than most shinobi have in their whole arsenal.”
Sakura blushed faintly, looking down at her tray. “You’re oddly kind for someone with such sharp teeth.”
He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Kindness doesn’t have much to do with it. I just call things how I see them.”
Kisame stood at the bridge, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. The quiet stream below mirrored the swirl of emotions he couldn't quite place. His mind was caught in a loop, replaying the moments from earlier—the sound of Sakura’s laughter, the way her cheeks had flushed when she smiled, her easy strength that seemed to exude from every gesture.
“Lost in thought, Sensei?” a voice interrupted his musings.
Kisame turned sharply, frowning as Ren approached, his smug grin evident. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
Ren shrugged, leaning against the railing beside him. “They’re out like lights,” he said casually, studying Kisame with a knowing look. “So, what’s got you so distracted, Sensei? Thinking about someone special?”
Kisame stiffened, though he tried to mask it with a scoff. “You’re imagining things, brat. Go to bed.”
Ren’s grin widened, undeterred. “Come on, Sensei. You’re always saying we should go after what we want. Why don’t you follow your own advice?”
Damn it.
Kisame didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the water. He couldn’t help but think about Sakura, her unexpected presence at lunch, and the way she’d looked at him—almost like she saw something more in him than he did himself. Ren’s words stung, not because they were false, but because they struck a nerve he preferred to keep buried.
“It’s not that simple,” Kisame muttered, his voice rough, his emotions a tangled mess.
“Why not?” Ren’s question hung in the air, softer this time but no less probing. “If there’s someone you admire, what’s stopping you? She must be someone worth it—someone strong, kind… maybe even a little inspiring?”
Oh, he’s good.
Kisame’s jaw tightened, his thoughts drifting back to Sakura. The idea of being vulnerable with her, of opening himself up to the possibility of something more, felt like a risk too great. He didn’t respond, letting his silence speak volumes.
Ren took his lack of reply as confirmation, his smirk widening. “See? I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “You do have someone in mind.”
“Go to bed, Ren,” Kisame growled, his tone brooking no argument.
Ren shrugged but didn’t press further. “Alright, alright. But you know, Sensei… you’re not as unreadable as you think.”
With that, Ren sauntered off, leaving Kisame alone with his turbulent thoughts. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared back at the stream.
Ren’s words echoed in his mind, challenging the barriers Kisame had carefully built around his emotions. Maybe there was some truth in them, but he knew better than to let himself entertain the idea. Admiration was one thing—but acting on it? That was a risk he wasn’t ready to take. For now, he would keep those thoughts buried, safe and silent, where they couldn’t touch the careful balance he’d built.
Over the month, their lunchtime routine grew. Kisame would grab an extra lunch and join Sakura, and she would share her meal with him. They didn’t talk much at first—just simple questions about their missions, the weather, or the absurdity of some of the exam challenges. But slowly, the silence between them filled with comfortable banter and easy laughter.
Sakura began to look forward to their lunchtime chats, the break from the stress of the exams. Kisame wasn’t like the others—there was no judgment in his eyes, just acceptance. She started to appreciate the way he listened, the way he didn’t seem to care about her extra weight or her quirks. Kisame, in turn, found himself looking forward to these little breaks, too. There was a surprising softness to Sakura that he hadn’t expected, and he liked teasing her about her choice of food or her persistence in defending her village.
One afternoon, as they sat together under the flickering lights of the tent, Kisame finally voiced something he’d been thinking about for days. “You know, I don’t get it. Why do you eat like a bird if you’re all chubby?”
Sakura blushed, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “Well… My mom packed it, so…”
Kisame’s grin widened. “You know, if I were your mom, I’d pack you a whole roast pig. You look like you could use it.” He shoved the last of his fish into his mouth with a playful glint in his eye.
Sakura laughed. A real, hearty sound that surprised both of them. “Maybe I should get you to pack my lunch from now on, then.”
From that moment, their routine solidified into something more than just sharing a meal. Kisame would bring a little extra—sometimes some pickles he ‘borrowed’ from the mess tent, other times a snack he thought Sakura might like. She would share her lunch with him too; not just food, but stories of her team and her hopes for the future.
The days passed quickly in the Chuunin Exams, and their lunchtime meetings became a beacon of warmth in the midst of the stress and competition. Kisame found himself looking forward to Sakura’s bright smile, her chubby cheeks flushed with laughter, and the way her eyes crinkled when she teased him back. It wasn’t long before they were counting the days until the exams ended, not just for the relief from the intense challenges, but for their quiet moments together.
The cheers and applause echoing through the arena felt like a distant hum to Sakura as she stood by the food stall, her focus solely on the dango skewers displayed before her. The light from the setting sun caught her chubby cheeks, giving them a rosy glow that made her look softer and more approachable. Her fingers twitched slightly at the thought of indulging in one of those treats—comforting, familiar, and sweet.
Kisame’s approach snapped her out of her reverie. She turned, her smile widening when she saw him. “Kisame! I didn’t expect to see you here.” They had dropped the honorifics a while ago.
He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets, his tall frame casting a shadow over the colorful dango display. “Figured I’d grab a snack before heading back to my team. They’re out celebrating.”
Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the lively crowd, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sounds like you’re a good sensei.”
Kisame chuckled, the sound genuine. “Depends who you ask.”
The easy banter felt like a rare gift—a moment of connection amidst the chaos of the celebrations. Sakura’s chubby cheeks were tinged with a soft blush, her round face glowing under the fading light. The loose tendrils of hair framing her face caught a stray breeze, and the sight of her standing there, looking so effortlessly herself, made Kisame’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.
They continued their conversation, and for a while, the world seemed to blur around them. Kisame found himself drawn to Sakura’s gentle smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed at some silly comment he made. Her chubby fingers, dotted with freckles, played absently with the hem of her sleeve, betraying a hint of shyness that only seemed to make her more endearing.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” Sakura admitted, her voice soft. “Just… talking without anything pressing on my mind.”
Kisame felt an unexpected surge of warmth in his chest at her words. “Yeah, me too.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s nice to just… be here , for once.”
She nodded, her smile widening. “It is. Thanks for letting me have this moment.”
He watched her for a moment longer, the curve of her cheeks, the slight puffiness under her eyes from the day’s exertions, and the softness of her smile that seemed to illuminate the night around them. As they talked, he noticed how her cheeks pinkened slightly with the bite of the evening breeze, her chubby features more pronounced now that she wasn’t caught up in the heat. Kisame’s gaze lingered on her, feeling a rare sense of ease settle over him.
It wasn’t often he got to talk like this—with no agendas, no missions, just… conversation.
Kisame cleared his throat, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Anyway, I should probably head back,” he said, a touch gruff, trying to mask the unexpected emotions stirring inside him. “Don’t want my team getting into more trouble without me around.”
Sakura’s smile glowed as she nodded. “Yeah, I should probably get back too. Still a lot to do tomorrow.”
He hesitated, then took a step closer, his voice softer. “Take care, Sakura. Don’t let them run you ragged.”
Her eyes widened, a soft smile playing at her lips. “You too, Kisame. Thanks for the company.”
With that, they parted ways, Kisame feeling strangely lighter. As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder, catching one last glimpse of Sakura standing there, illuminated by the festival lights, a content smile on her face. He let himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was more to these quiet moments with her than he was willing to admit.
Kisame’s moment of peace was shattered later that evening when he returned to the inn his team was staying at. He found them sitting in a circle in the common room, their faces lit with unbridled glee as he walked in.
“Sensei!” Ren exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Perfect timing. We were just talking about you.”
Kisame’s initial instinct was to brush them off, but their expressions—filled with mischief—told him they were up to something. “That can’t be good,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, it’s very good,” chimed Kiko, the team’s sharp-tongued strategist. “We’ve been noticing a certain pattern , you see.”
“A pattern?” Kisame crossed his arms, glancing between the three of them.
“Yeah,” Ren said, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “Like how you get all stiff and awkward every time Haruno-san is around.”
Kiko nodded, her smirk downright diabolical. “And how you ‘coincidentally’ keep ending up near her during breaks.” She made sure to emphasize her sarcasm with finger quotes.
Even Yuta, the quietest of the group, joined in. “You were smiling when she talked to you today.”
Kisame’s jaw clenched as heat crept up his neck. “You’re all imagining things.”
Ren leaned closer, waggling his eyebrows. “Are we, Sensei? Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got a crush .”
Kiko gasped dramatically. “Oh no! Our fearsome Kisame-sensei has been struck by Cupid’s arrow!”
Kisame’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the heat in his neck spreading to his cheeks. He shot them a warning look, his voice low and menacing. “That’s enough.”
But his students weren’t deterred. Ren clasped his hands together, pretending to swoon. “Haruno-san! How do I confess my undying admiration for you?”
“Ren!” Kisame barked, his embarrassment palpable as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to mask the redness creeping up his cheeks.
The three of them burst into laughter, clearly proud of themselves for prying beneath Kisame’s usually impenetrable exterior. Kisame shot them an exasperated glare. “Alright, alright, very funny,” he muttered, his voice gruff but the amusement in his eyes betraying him.
Kiko shrugged, her smirk still in place. “Come on, Sensei. You can’t deny it. You like her. It’s kinda obvious.”
Kisame sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t… I don’t like her. It’s just… I don’t know. She’s… different.”
Ren’s grin widened, the mischief in his eyes not fading. “Different? You’re calling her different, huh? Sounds like a crush to me.”
Kisame huffed, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, enough. I’m going to bed before you lot come up with anything else.”
His three genin exchanged a triumphant glance, their teasing relentless as Kisame turned away, his cheeks still tinged with a soft pink.
As he climbed the stairs to his room, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was a kernel of truth in their teasing.
The next morning, the Kiri delegations prepared to leave Konoha. Kisame stood by the gates with his team, overseeing the final preparations. As they waited, Sakura appeared as she went on her jolly way to work, her arrival catching Kisame—and his students—off guard. She smiled warmly, walking up to them.
“You’re heading back already?” she asked.
“Duty calls,” Kisame said, his tone gruff but not unkind.
Sakura glanced at his team, who were huddled together a few steps away, whispering and giggling furiously. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s with them?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Kisame said quickly, glaring at his genin.
But Ren, emboldened by the teasing from the night before, piped up, “We just wanted to say goodbye to Haruno-san! You know, Sensei’s most favorite person in Konoha.”
Sakura blinked, taken aback, while Kisame looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Ren,” Kisame growled, his tone low and dangerous.
But instead of being embarrassed, Sakura smiled—a slow, soft smile that made Kisame’s heart do that stupid, stupid flip again. “Well,” she said, taking a step closer to Kisame, “I’m flattered.”
Before he could respond, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Kisame froze, his mind blank as the soft warmth of her lips lingered against his skin. His genin erupted into cheers and whistles behind him, but he barely heard them.
Sakura stepped back, her cheeks pink but her smile confident. “Consider it a… thank you—for being kind, even when you didn’t have to be.”
Kisame finally managed to find his voice, though it came out rougher than intended. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” Sakura said, her eyes sparkling. “But I wanted to.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Kisame standing there, completely and utterly speechless.
Behind him, his genin were practically bouncing with glee.
“Sensei,” Ren said, his grin wider than ever, “you’re going to miss her, aren’t you?”
Kisame didn’t reply. He just rubbed the back of his neck, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.
Maybe he would. But for now, he had a job to do—and three very smug brats to keep in line.
As Sakura walked away, Kisame’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure, the soft sway of her pinkish cheek fat and the gentle curve of her lips etched in his mind. Her presence had a way of lighting up the dull moments in his life, and though he was reluctant to admit it, he realized that he would miss her more than he liked to admit.
Ren’s words rang in his ears. Maybe he was more affected by Sakura than he cared to admit. But for now, he’d keep those thoughts buried, allowing the warmth of her smile to linger like a quiet promise in the back of his mind.