Title: An Introduction to Intoxication

Summary: "...You can't love me, can you?" His lips brush against hers, his voice husky and there's something like longing in his dark eyes. She pulls back a little, her hands pressing into his warm chest as she looks at him with those haunting green eyes. And she smiles this sad, broken smile. "...No, I don't think I can,"

Type: Multi-chapter, smut

Pairing (s) : SakuraxSasori, SasukexSakura, Others

Warning (s): Sexual themes, dark themes, abusive language and disturbing images.

Note: This is a sequel to Existence written for my most devoted and most beloved fan which will be mentioned later. However, this stands as an independent story and so the one-shot doesn't have to be read in order for this to be read and understood.

For I love you Sasori-kun ;my best fan: This is the only way I can remedy the broken promise.



"Love?' he asked himself, giving no sense of recognition for that word in the dictionary of his mind. It was the only battle he had lost in life, the only thing that had been snatched away from him, before he could even claim it."
― Faraaz Kazi, Truly, Madly, Deeply


There are many things she wants to say to him.

Like, get the hell out. Or, where have you been all this time? All these wasted years that I spent with a broken friend to look for you? All these passing springs where I sat by a river and tried to cry but couldn't because you-your absence, your departure had left me numb? Or perhaps, I'm not sorry you saw me fucking the enemy against this wall- this very wall against which I leaned and you look at me as if you could've loved me. If you tried. But she says none of that. She reaches for her black dressing gown and pulls it on, finding comfort in the cool feel of the silky material on her bare, naked skin.

Sasori's face is unreadable and Sasuke looks at her- only at her- with those endless eyes, drilling and drilling into the back of her head like they'll find the answers they want in her thick skull. She shakes her hair out a little, assuming a confident look of disdain and indifference before shifting her weight to her right leg, hand propped at her hip. Casual..casual...be casual...because he can hurt you otherwise.

"...Uchiha Sasuke?" She begins slowly, casually and Sasori shoots her a look- a warning, if nothing else- and maybe a question...as if, asking (what are you doing ?) "..I thought you were seeking revenge in the far di-"

"What is the fucking meaning of this?" He spits out savagely, his body taut with so much tension that it looks as though, any moment, any fragile moment, he might lash out and destroy many things. His eyes are hooded, dark, like obsidians and she feels a frail sense of sadness as she regards him.

Sasori speaks for her, his voice toneless as he pulls his robes on. "..It's exactly what you think the meaning of this is, Uchiha. We were...what's the lovely word for what we were doing?" He pauses, eyes raking over the Uchiha in a disdainful, pitying way. "...We were fornicating. And as two consenting adults, it's perfectly legal..."

Sasuke's forehead wrinkles for a moment, his eyes never leaving the side of Sakura's face. His fingers clench tightly around his kunai, resisting the urge to lash out at the accursed Puppeteer. Sakura's hair fall around her shoulders in a mess of pink and shadow and her eyes are different- no longer loving, or peaceful, but like ravaged emeralds that have been cast unto the stone too many times. He feels the slow burn of rejection, the terrible realization...that she has moved on. And here he is, stuck, and lost as if someone's ripped the carpet out from under him, or the floor and he's floating in the thick air, hoping he'll make it through the fall. The irony of the situation is not lost on him. Who'd have thought?

His anger is there, coiling in his belly- terrifying and dark and he steps back, inhaling slowly. "...Consorting to fucking the enemy, Sakura?" He snarls carelessly, letting the mask take over, allowing himself to fall into the abyss that he'd just pulled himself out of because...that's safe. That is safe. She flinches lightly- his eyes have been trained to notice such movements and her wild eyes look to him. "..Really, that's a new kind of rebellion..albeit a nice try at this whole facade.."

Her face hardens. "...I should kill you," She says it calmly and coolly, her tone hard, her eyes shifting to Sasori. And though, though he wishes he hadn't, he notices how her gaze softens, her eyes losing that determined, ugly look to hurt and melt over the tall figure of the redhead.

Sasori, oblivious to the slight changes in her behaviour and her eyes, straps in his katana and ties the robes at his waist, turning around to glance at the Uchiha again, in that sad, pitying way. "...Pleasure to have met you in such...queer circumstances, Uchiha Sasuke..." He looks regretful for a moment. "...I shall give your respects to Uchiha Itachi,"

And he turns to plant a lingering, fading kiss on the Sakura's lips, almost apologetic as he mutters something to his lover, before he bolts towards the open window, lunging forth into the open air and letting the night swallow him. Sasuke steps back, trying to steel himself- trying to protect himself from the Ache, the Pain...the Desolation but it's there; all of it. The failure of his assassination attempt on his brother, and the futility of his sudden, pathetic realization about his love for..for...He doesn't even know what to call her now and it hurts. It hurts worse than being slashed open by his brother. His hand shakes and he can't look at her so he looks away.

The silence seems to have the words he doesn't and he walks away, stealthily- the same way he came, the memory of her pressed tight to the puppeteer, burned into his mind, making him hurt and hurt and hurt.

At some point, everything just goes numb.

Outside, Konoha burns.

Deidara's bombs have worked. Miraculously. Zetsu stares out at the exhausting, dark flames and he smiles a satisfied smile because Leader will be happier and maybe, maybe, things will be better. His black side of the face twitches and he raises a slender hand to his cheek, trying to soothe the irritable skin. His body seems as though it might crumble in moments, but there's something incredible inside him- a new kind of knowledge, a terrible kind of truth that only he knows and it gives him this brilliant power and clarity.

His fingers rake through his sooty hair and he watches a woman stumble, crawl and burn to death with a calculated look in his eye. He feels nothing.

Haruno Sakura has been used so well that he feels a small amount of pity for her. Sasori played her well. Leader- rather, Pein hadn't expected anything would come from such a futile, old-fashioned Seduction-style mission...and yet, yet the clever Puppeteer had pulled it off and rather well at that, because even Hidan was impressed.

All the information they'd needed for this Burning came from that supposedly-clever kuniochi. That poor girl was smitten- at least, that's the idea Zetsu got from the amount of information Sasori got from her. His smile turns a little pitying, imagining the girl's crazed anger at the scene that's unfolding in front of him.

Kabuto waves at Zetsu, pulling up one of the screaming people and throwing the charred body into a pile by the trees. The Cherry Blossom's leaves scatter, swirling in the smoky air and to Zetsu, the somewhat cruel scene looks beautiful. The pink petals twist and turn through the thick, heavy air, the only sign of beauty and infinity in this town of desolation. Somewhere, a child screams and still, there's nothing. Sometimes...sometimes, the White Side wants to know what emotion is.

What it would be like, to maybe...feel a little sadness to see this place of life, of prosperity...reduced to meaningless ashes and dead bodies. What it be like, to perhaps even...repent the evil he'd help to inflict. But instead, there's just this raging indifference- this nothingness that allows no entry to anything else. And it's a small comfort he has.

"..We should leave," Kabuto shouts, and Zetsu spots Deidara in the background, his long hair illuminated in the flames.

A tree breaks, swallowed completely by the flames and from behind the carnage and destruction, Sasori appears, his dark robes fluttering in the wind. Zetsu watches the stride of the Puppeteer increase a little as he spots his long-haired partner and he wonders what the kuniochi will be doing right this very moment. A pink petal twirls, landing on the flat of his hand which he'd held out to feel the flames, to assess the heat.

He looks at it, and somehow, can't smile.

Sakura feels disoriented.

But the slight stench of smoke, the brightness casting shadows along the blank walls of her apartment calls to her and she disregards everything, turning around to walk over to the window from where Sasori jumped off. Her stomach lurches, her saliva tasting bitter to her. Her hands shake lightly as she nears the window, looking down. A part of her wants to see. And a part doesn't. Like the times an accident victim is brought in and she feels this tug-of-war inside her; the urgent need to know what's happened, and the need not to see the vile injuries inflicted upon the poor boy, or the poor old woman. And the feeling's here.

What she sees isn't what she thought she would see.

All of her village is burning.

She blinks, as if blinking will make the horror less real and the pieces join together in her head easily, quickly, with morbid ease- like when she has a dying patient at her hands and her only job is to keep the patient happy, or calm, or something in the middle so at least the death that comes is easy and sweet. Her eyes burn, the sting of tears achingly familiar as she looks at the familiar houses caught in the flames, the smoke thick and dark as it rises up into the air. The only thing she manages to see, that has survived the horror, is the Cherry Blossom and somehow, that doesn't seem right. Everything should be burning.

She catches sight of shadows, shadows of men she'd thought this village would never see. The Akatsuki are here, in Konoha, destroying everything she's ever known.

Her hand reaches forward for the ledge, but she's falling and falling and falling and nothing can stop the fall.

And she understands then, that she is just as responsible as any of the criminals for the death of her home.


I hope it goes on..this story. I really, really want it to be good. Please read and review. I will try not to disappoint. Thank you to the one person who pushed me to write this. I will not be brekaing promises this time.

Oooh, Happy New Year too!