Naruto Sakura Image Novels & Stories

He takes the drone, which is already drenched with water, and based on the look, he was sure it's already broken. "Sakura." The strange girl smiles, and after she says it, there's a wind blowing and the Sakura's flower from the nearest cherry blossom tree falling near them. Looking at the flower, which now falls near them, he nods his head. "Ah, yeah..it's now in April, so Sakura here is a bit prettier than the front gate." Smiling at him, she gets her bag and her flat shoes before she goes to the walkway. She wants to go back to her dorm, change her clothes, and go to the next class.

Jessica said while staring with glittering eyes at Jerry. "You guys are the rotten humans that ruin normal anime and turn them into another thing, ugh," Jean prejudiced harshly. "Shut it! So what if we prefer Sasunaru?! There were meant to be!" Jessica argued. "Sakura and Sasuke have a daughter named Sarada, give it up, you fools! They're just besties!!" Jean argued back, as a Naruto and Sasusaku fan at that, he refused to give in. He believed that all Saku-any other ship that wasn't female should burn in hell, ugh! How he hated those rotten people who shipped his favorite character with males!

The scent of Sakura flower, eyes that resemble the starry night sky, hair that represents the ombre purple tone, and the face and the figure that they both got from, undoubtedly prove their identities. “Haruna, Haru.” She opens her arms wide, smiling with the utmost warmth and care. With tears that are now falling from her eyes, and the memories that she finally had and a bit longer than anyone could anticipate. The motherly instinct and the warmth that transcended through space and worlds. Daniela calls out to her children from the other world and books. “Mother!”

She was hiding herself from the flying dragonfly which then perched on the edge of the table near Jai’s position. “Oh. This is a very big dragonfly. What is—I mean, what’s her or his name?” Jai asked. “This is Sakura. She is a Cherry Blossom Dragonfly.” Tsubasa answered. “I don’t want to seem rude, but I’ve never seen a dragonfly as big as her. Is it a normal size, Tsubasa-san?” Jai asked as he observed Sakura, the raspberry colored dragonfly that’s almost as big as a two months old kitten.

Ah, the rose looks perfect now, he thought with a smile. “Really?” Sakura asked, eyeing the photo she’d clipped to the side of the canvas. It was of the cherry tree she had taken that day before she met the brothers. She picked this particular picture because the tree stood alone with petals floating across in the wind, and in the distance, there were hills and beyond that the sea of the island. It was perfect for her painting. Ned put down his brush and folded his arms across his chest, finally eyeing her. “So what’s bothering you?”

I was introduced into this world on the eve of my mother's death. Through the many stories of my father, I learned what I could about the woman I loved but would never know. She was called Sakura after the season of the cherry blossoms. She was a petite, delicate woman of pale skin. In her joy and happiness, she would turn the gentle pink of the flowers of the season. My father was named Homura after the blaze one would see during his anger if it ever showed.

As she sat beside him, Siena had just realized Stefano was holding an album of photograph on his lap. “These are my nostalgia pictures with Sakura. I always keep them, because they are the only things that can console me whenever I miss her,” Stefano started to talk in a soft voice. Stefano showed her the album. Siena recognized her mother’s face. Sakura was still young in the pictures, looking so beautiful, enthusiastic, and cheerful. Her shoulder-length black hair fell elegantly cupping her gorgeous oval face. Her bright smile and her sparkling eyes made her face glow gracefully.

But still, Sakura never liked or commented on anything he posted. Until one day—perhaps out of nowhere—an impulse stirred in her. She decided to post a Story of her own. Standing on the sidewalk in Shibuya, a paper cup of coffee in her hand, Sakura lifted her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she framed the shot. “Maybe... maybe he’ll see it,” she whispered to herself. A few seconds later, she uploaded it. Simple. Just her hand holding the coffee cup, with Shibuya’s crowd blurred in the background. But behind that casual image, a small hope was quietly tucked away.