The desaturated eevee was put into a pen with her older brother. The older eevee stared at the younger and growled. When the younger eevee started to cry, he shut up. 

If he hadn't received love, then why should the younger eevee? It clearly wasn't normal, otherwise he would have received love too.

The older eevee hummed. "Your name will be Sakura. Like the blossoms on the painted tree." The older eevee declared. He hesitantly cleaned Sakura, and when he finished, he put her on the other side of the pen.

As far as Sakura knew, the warmth and safety was gone. And as far as she knew, it wouldn't return.