/warning: uh, the tone's totally different. this is total and utter CRACK. CRACK, i tell you. [please don't let anyone get offended.] this was the product of procrastination (who doesn't procrastinate?)/

er, their hair

It was either predictable or unbelievable, but she managed to defeat all odds (including sadistic manga-kas) and became—

—at the age of twenty two, Haruno Sakura was everything a grown man with enough hormones could ask for. Her hair was silky, and it managed to hide the infamous Forehead (!) that everybody had already forgotten. (Ino, though, never can. And besides, she was the only one allowed to call the said girl that without getting battered into a flat, bloody pancake.) Her body was filled out at the right places, with curves that were hidden enough to tease. And the violent tendencies she sported became more of…a turn on to the men.

But she was oblivious to the drooling and the desirous looks that they, shinobi and non-shinobi alike, gave her.

When asked, "Why do you like Sakura?"—

"She is the only one who can manage to beat me in shougi. About one every hundred times." Shrug. "She has brains."

"She takes good care of her hair. I like that in a woman."


"Hn. She's annoying."

"Oh the wonderful mix of magenta-and-fuchsia representation of the colorful FLOWER OF YOUTH—MMPH." Flailing. "Shut. Up."

Small smile. "She plays with Akamaru."

Munch. "She doesn't try to take a piece of my chips. But come to think of it, all the other girls do…"

"…She remembers who I am."

There you have it folks, Haruno Sakura's admirers.

Whose hearts fell somewhere near their feet when they saw her talking to none other than Gaara.

The Kazekage.

The murderous Kazekage.

The murderous Kazekage with the ridiculous character for love stamped in red ink across his forehead.

The murderous Kazekage who was now smiling slightly at her.

And she was giggling at something he said.

The hearts that had fallen within the vicinity of the ground could be heard breaking one by one by one.

NOOOO! Sakura-chyaaaannn!

"Hey everybody!" Sakura greeted the males who were nursing their third drink of the day. Behind her was The Man Who Stole Her.

Gaara smirked.

(HE HAD THE GALL TO SMIRK! Was the thought running behind the many homicidal eyes.)

He knew why everyone was looking at him like that. After all—

—"I'd like to announce to everyone that Gaara and I are engaged now!"

Mouths dropped. Heart remains cracked and splintered and were blown away into dust.

His smirk widened. Oh, they didn't know? Apparently it didn't take much, just a few talks and holding-hands episodes, to make the whole of the Konoha shinobi population to rear their ugly head with the horrible green eyes.

And just to further incense the angry men, he walked up to Sakura, relished lacing his fingers with hers and tugged. It was his silent message that they leave the bar already.

Leave they did, after Sakura smiled beatifically at everyone and Gaara smirked again.

Smirked again.

The men despaired. They could just watch her leave. Fighting Sakura and Gaara together was…equivalent to death. They couldn't do much (and they couldn't fight Sakura anyway, who was sure to defend her, UGH, fiancé).

So they did the next best thing they could think of. They asked Ino to ask Sakura what the hell happened.

Ino went on her merry way, and returned with the answer, "Because I wanted to preserve my hair color in the generations and generations to come."

The men could not believe it. But if it was like that they still had a chance!

The next day, Tsunade awoke to a Konoha with most of the eligible male population's hair dyed PINK.

She was as horrified as horrified can be.

That she fainted.

But not before screaming her protégé's name.



"That was fun!" Guffaws. "Keep the pictures, okay?"

Sigh. "Now that you've had your fun, Sakura, will you say yes?"

"Yes to what?"

"Yes to the question Will you marr—MMPH"



"Yes, Kazekage-sama."


"Yes, Gaara-kun."

/this is the last. no more! haha. um. hi to Sarai! :D/