I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, taking in messy red hair and bloodshot grey-brown eyes.

My name is Sasori Akasuna, and I have no reason to live for.

I'm not suicidal. No. Not even relatively depressed. I'm just jaded.

My day is boring and tedious, I wake up, take a shower, go to work, eat dinner, and then go to sleep, only to wake up again and continue the exhaustingly dull cycle.

I could change the cycle. Quit work, maybe. Marry someone? I'm a jackass like that. Unfortunately, I'm also horribly uncreative.

And possibly asexual. But that's another story that would be a bitch to write down.

I have friends, though. And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

Needless to say, I haven't spoken to them in a reasonably long time. They're stubborn, I must admit. That's why, after four months of ignoring their phone calls, one of them came to check up on me.

If only I hadn't given him a spare key.


I work as a designer for a makeup company, something that my friends all enjoy teasing me about. I don't make the makeup, however, instead designing the signs that advertise the company. Of course, this causes me to work at home, too.

I was working on one of these signs (one that had me inconceivably stumped), when my friend came into my messy apartment.

He came almost straight into my workroom, as if he knew I would be in there.

He didn't greet me or even wait for me to acknowledge him, he simply started talking. This is why I like my friends. As blunt as ever.

"C'mon, dude," said the ginger, throwing an empty instant ramen cup at me, "You have to get out sometimes. Honestly! You barely even talk to the small amount of friends you do have! Go out there. Mingle. Get a girlfriend. Impregnate her with your-"

I threw a pencil at his head. It got stuck in his vibrant orange hair.

It was rather amusing, actually.

"I'd rather shave my head than do that, Yahiko, and you know it."

Yahiko grinned. "You know, that might not be the worst idea."

I hit him with my sketchbook.

"Okay! Okay!" laughed the ginger, rubbing the back of his head almost sheepishly, "Seriously though. You have to talk to someone. Preferably someone with breasts-"

"Shut. Up."

He grinned that same obnoxious grin. "Fine, since you're such a spoilsport, I took the liberty to get the address of some of the ladies that may be your type. Old and grumbly. Yum."

I scowled at him, choosing to ignore that last part. "Why the address?" I asked uninterestedly, "And you better not say, 'because I want you to get laid.'"

"Nah. You're just 'old-fashioned', so I figured that you may want to write a letter."

"A letter?" I deadpanned.

"Hey! Don't get on my case, I'm just trying ta' help! …At least consider it, Saso?"

I rolled my eyes and muttered a grumbly, "Fine."

My friend patted my head, much to my bemusement, and walked out of my apartment, characteristically shouting, "And don't forget the condoms!"

I scoffed and continued to work.

Should her lipstick be a whorey red or an 'elegant' black? Both were popular colors, these days.


It has been five months since Yahiko visited, and is now January.

This normally wouldn't bug me, but with the winter came a massive snowstorm. Work is now cancelled.

Although this is probably a good thing, I can't get around the feeling that fate is screwing with me.

I sat in my workroom, drinking hot cocoa and aimlessly contemplating cleaning up my apartment, when my eyes caught sight of my desk, or, more specifically, the sack of papers on it.

I promised Yahiko that I would at least look at them…

I sighed in annoyance and picked up the papers, skimming through the first one.

There was a picture of the girl, her name, phone number, e-mail, address, occupation and status. I must admit, comparing it to Yahiko's other works, this was rather organized.

I studied the information of all the women.

Too slutty. Easy. Easy. Married. Easy. Drug Dealer. Easy. Easy. Lawyer. Easy. Is really a man. Easy- wait a minute…

I frowned at the last paper, or more precisely, the bold red letters on it.

'SEND A LETTER TO AMERICA'S TROUPS TODAY!'


"What is this?" I ask Yahiko, shoving the paper in front of his face.

"It's a dead tree," he answers nonchalantly, turning around to face me.

I growl savagely at him. "You know what I mean, Uzumaki," I snarl, using his last name to show him that I am completely serious, "You better answer. Patience is not one of my virtues."

My friend grins and shrugs. "I just put that there in case you were gay."

I twitch and shoot him a death glare.

"What?" he says, putting up his hands defensively, "Dress shirts and slacks don't exactly show off your testosterone."

"Tell me the real reason you gave it to me," I growl, waving it in front of his overly pierced face.

He frowns hesitantly and sighs. "I talk to one of the soldiers via letters. He's really cool, actually. Name's Madara. He has no family left, so before me, no one sent him anything. I don't want any of the other soldiers to go through the same thing."

I roll my eyes at the corniness, and the sincere tone his voice took. "How do you know he isn't the only one? Besides, how old is he, fifty?"

Yahiko frowned angrily at me. "He's twenty-one."

I blink at that. Twenty-one? That means that he was three years younger than Yahiko and I.

"Seriously, Sasori. I can understand not wanting to talk to a girl. That just means you're a homosexual. But now wanting to talk to the ones fighting for our country? That just means you're a bastard."

"I am a bastard. I thought we already established that," I scoff, crossing my arms stubbornly.

"Just… consider it Sasori."

I blinked as Yahiko stormed out of the room, then glanced at the piece of paper still in my hand.

I sighed, then headed to the minimart to buy a stamp.


NO POV

Dim lights flickered slightly, illuminating the rather small room. Several cheap-looking bunk-beds occupied the space, some of which were occupied. Most of the people in the room were normal looking, brown hair and dark eyes, slightly tanned skin and grinning at nothing. However, two of the tenants were exactly the opposite.

They both sat in the bunk-bed closest to the right wall. The one sitting on the bottom bunk had messy black hair and dark chocolaty brown eyes, his skin a pale ivory. The one sitting on the top was drawing in a sketchbook almost nonchalantly. His flaxen gold hair was long, half of it pulled into a messy topknot and the rest flowing down his shoulders and ending a bit below the nape of his neck, a fringe of it covering his right eye. His eyes were a stormy blue, and were sharp and exotic looking, his skin sun-kissed.

On closer inspection, one would see that they were, rather one-sidedly, bickering.

"But, Sempai! Sparkles are necessary!" insisted the rather childish black-haired male, his lower lip jutting out slightly in a cute manner.

The blonde on the top bunk snorted, reaching over to roughly ruffle the blackett's hair. "The enemies would see you from a mile away, Madara."

Madara puffed his cheeks out childishly and crossed his arms, leaning back and sprawling across his bed. "Fine. I wouldn't put them on my uniform, but you still have to admit that sparkles are awesome, Deidara-sempai."

Deidara rolled his eyes and ignored Madara's claim, choosing to continue sketching aimlessly, his boyish face scrunching up at the paper.

On the opus was the face of a boy looking about the age of three, untidy hair, mischievous eyes, a wide grin, and three barely visible marks resembling whiskers across each of his childishly plump cheeks. A boy at about the age of six stood behind him, smirking lazily and doing the loser sign at the younger boys head. This boy had more slanted, mature eyes and hair going down to a bit above his shoulders.

Deidara smirked fondly at the drawing, running his fingers across the three-year olds face and smudging the lines slightly.

The loud slam of a door broke the blond from his musings.

The 2nd Luey* walked through the doorway, grinning like a madman and holding a sack of letters behind his back. "Letters are here!"

Most of the men laughed and let out whoops of joy as they asked the lieutenant if they got any mail.

"Uchiha!" he called loudly, "Loverboy* sent ya something."

The blackett grinned widely and rushed towards the lieutenant, grabbing his envelope and squeeing in fangirl-esque joy.

Deidara rolled his eyes and scoffed from his sanctuary on the top bunk.

The Lieutenant reached back into his bag and pulled out the last notelet, frowning thoughtfully before smirking. "Oi, Blondie! You've been assigned a 'pen-pal.'"

The blonde twitched in annoyance from where he lay. "Why would I want a pen-pal? All they are is a bunch of do-gooders wanting to write to us to ease their 'aching' conscious."

Madara took Deidara's letter from the man and walked over to their shared bunk, waving it in front of his face. "C'mon, Sempai, you know you want to~" cooed the blackett teasingly, grinning mischievously.

The blonde twitched and poked his friend on the forehead, causing him to fall over. Then sighed and said, "Fine. Give it to me and then go read the love-note from your gay lover."

Madara pouted, "Yi'ko isn't gay."

Deidara smirked when he noticed that he didn't say, 'I'm not gay.'

"Whatever," said the blonde, his smirk widening and waving his hand dismissingly at the blackett. Deidara pulled the letter from his friends hand and opened it, starting to read.

'To whom it may concern,'

Deidara snorted at the formal greeting.

'My name is Sasori Akasuna.

Before we go further with this, I'd like to notify you that I don't really care that you are part of the army. My life is too depressing already to worry about a bunch of random people on the other side of the world that I don't even know. I have a hard job, and barely ever talk to anyone besides my work associates, so my friends got worried and tried to hook me up. Honestly, I'd rather speak to you then a random slut they pulled off the street. My friend writes to a soldier, and recommended (forced) for me to send a letter. Along with a bunch of other sappy stuff that I'd rather not write.

I don't know really what to say, but I guess I should tell you a bit about myself.

I'm a male (obviously). I'm twenty-four years old. I work as a designer for Avon (I'd rather you not tease me about that.) I was born on the 8th of November, so I'm a Scorpio (and my name means Scorpion in Japanese. I'm pretty sure my parents did that on purpose.) My parents died when I was five (car crash; how unoriginal), so I was raised by my grandmother. I moved out when I was seventeen. My friends are insane, and most of the time I'd rather not associate with them.

My favorite color is blue. My favorite type of ice-cream is vanilla. My favorite spice is cinnamon, and I like sweet things. My favorite fruit are blackberries.

I'm a 'loner', I guess, and don't really enjoy conversing with people. I'm a ginger, and the stereotype that we don't have souls is pretty apt when talking about me. I'm a bastard and proud of it.'

Deidara chuckled at that. What a jackass.

'I'm kind of short, but god, you mess with me and I'll screw up your face.

I've had several girlfriends, and all of them were whiny sluts. I broke up with them after about two weeks of all their bitching. I don't get into relationships anymore, so I guess that means I'm asexual. And frankly, I'm okay with that.

All of my girlfriends were blonde. This fact disturbs me, and I hope you don't bring it up.

I'm an atheist. I was a Christian, but stopped believing the moment I heard my parents died.

I was born in Scotland. Laugh all you want, but it's true. My mother was American and my father was Scottish. They moved to the USA with my grannie a few months after I was born. I grew up in Seattle, then moved to New York freshmen year and stayed there.

I'm a pessimist, and was diagnosed as clinically depressed at age twelve. But I'm okay now.

Screw depression.

I have one tattoo on my ankle; it's my name in Japanese.

I am an artist, and I believe art to be eternal; perpetual beauty surviving through the worst of catastrophes and admired by all generations.'

Deidara scowled slightly at this. Art was fleeting.

'I'm impatient. I'm cold. I'm a douchebag. What more is there to say?

You probably won't reply. But whatever. I can deal with that.

I just hope you aren't a moron.

Sincerely,

Sasori Akasuna.'

Deidara reread the note, smiling incredulously. What a tightass. Heh.

This was going to be fun.

A/N: My first chapter story. :D YAY!

I'm already finished the second chappie, but I won't post it until I finish the third chapter. :D I'll post it if you awesome readers send me three reviews. :D Pretty please? ;3;

*1 "2nd Luey" is a 'nickname' for the second lieutenant.

*2 'Loverboy' is Yahiko. They like to say that Y'iki is Tobi's lover. :D

R&R! :D