It started as one of Sakura’s “little ideas” — the kind you usually avoided because they never stayed little.

You were sitting in her room, just waiting for her to finish looking over some mission reports, when she suddenly turned in her chair, eyes narrowing in that way that meant she’d decided something for you without asking.

“Sit still,” she said, already rummaging through a small cosmetic pouch she kept tucked away in her drawer.

Before you could even question it, she had grabbed your wrist and guided you to sit on the edge of her bed. “You’ve got such a good face,” she muttered, studying you like she was assessing a painting she wanted to fix. “Sharp angles, good skin… waste not to do something with it.”

She started with a moisturizer, brushing her fingers lightly over your cheeks, then moved on to a thin layer of foundation.

The motions were precise—Sakura was nothing if not meticulous. She blended with quick, practiced sweeps, humming under her breath.

Occasionally she’d tilt your chin or brush her thumb over your jawline, making sure every detail was even.

When she got to your eyes, she leaned in close, her lashes brushing against your temple as she applied eyeliner with steady, surgeon-like precision. “Don’t blink,” she murmured, though her voice was softer now, almost distracted.

She added a warm-toned shadow to make your eyes brighter, then stepped back with a small frown—one of concentration, not displeasure—before returning with mascara.

The transformation didn’t take long, but by the time she swiped a final touch of lip color across your mouth, she was already smiling. “Okay. You’re done. Let’s see…”

She grabbed a small hand mirror and passed it to you, but the moment your reflection stared back, you froze.

Somehow, impossibly, you looked… unreal. Your features, already sharp and expressive, were softened in all the right ways while still holding that edge.

The makeup didn’t hide you—it amplified everything, drawing the eye to your best angles, making you look both dangerous and almost ethereal.

Sakura watched your reaction closely, and for the first time, she seemed a little unsettled. Her green eyes flicked between your reflection and your actual face.

“Okay, wow,” she admitted, leaning back slightly. “You… you actually look prettier than me right now.”

There was no heat in her tone, just honest surprise and a hint of disbelief. She crossed her arms, tilting her head, her expression shifting between admiration and mock annoyance.

“That’s… not fair. I’ve been doing this for years, and you sit down once and—” She broke off with a small huff and a reluctant grin.

Still, she didn’t try to take the makeup off. Instead, she leaned in again, fixing a stray smudge near your cheekbone with her thumb.

“Don’t get used to this,” she said, though her smirk betrayed her amusement. “Next time, I’m charging for my services.” Even so, she kept glancing at you as if she couldn’t quite believe her own work.