"And here we have Haruno Sakura," Kazuya says, wearing the expression of a man resigned to his fate as he helps her off the ground. Beside her, the shopping cart lies sideways, wheels spinning mockingly. "One of the smartest people I know, at her prime."
Usually, Sakura detests judgement and subtle condescension in tones directed at her. That angle of chin to look down their nose that people will do, especially if they know how easily it gets under her skin. She has made a lifetime of decisions that she benefitted from, one after the other of chasing her dreams and turning them into reality.
As it was, this particular incident was out of the norm. One of the wheels on the car to her right was still spinning, an audible reminder of her decidedly poor decision not two and a half minutes ago. A throbbing pain bloomed on her tailbone, courtesy of turning to prevent a landing on her face. That was surely going to hurt in the morning.
Not as much as her pride, though. Looking up – and up – at the officer standing next to her, having witnessed her spectacular display of immaturity mixed with a sudden burst of imbalance, there was no saving her from this.
“I guess there’s no point in trying to convince you it wasn’t my fault?”
Dig your hole, Haruno. Dig your hole.
