Inhaling was the easy part, but holding your toxic breath and feeling the acid devour your lungs wasn't so easy. It wasn't the hard part though. The hard part didn't so much affect the User, but the ones around the user who watched the user sink into themselves. Soon, they'd become decrepit. Unable to move faster than a slow hobble, their limbs turned like jelly and their breathing became ragged from the potent substances they breathed. It wasn't exactly healthy, but it was one way to reach enlightenment. User's minds became sharp from the drugs; crystal clear, faster, stronger and more calculating, users were sometimes referred to as Guru. Wise men and women who wandered the world offering advice and temporary companionship. To be as light and free as they were, meant detachment from the User's own self, life and their eternal soul.

Not many chose the lifestyle. It was foreign, dangerous and far too reckless for many and most regular citizens. However, it was becoming popular with rouge or retired shinobi. Ones who wished to free themselves from their haunting memories, waking nightmares and unfortunate selves long forgotten. Although it was reputable for easing the dying, it remained taboo. None openly talked about it, fewer consulted friends, family or strangers before taking the drug and leaving their lives behind; as the custom was to tell one person using an indirect manner, and simply vanish. Yet, somehow, despite the taking of the drug being rooted deeply within taboo, none shied from the advice of a Guru, no matter how green. On rare occasion, even Hokage consulted the wandering, nomadic Guru.

NeoJericho Productions Present a fanfiction by Kaoi
Intoxication

"Today's the day." murmured the once energetic youth Uzumaki Naruto. Today, was in fact, the day. One he'd been waiting for ever since the time he'd been singled out by a Sage-Guru. In such a large crowd, and not dressed in orange, Naruto never expected to be sighted. Until then, he'd never known of the wandering Guru nomads, the Users. What had passed the Sage-Guru's lips intrigued Naruto. Especially when the Sage-Guru had taken Naruto's hand, pressed a small bag into it, and made a quiet promise. Being eighteen years of age, and not expected to live much longer than ten more, Naruto thought hard about the question posed before him. In the end, his fingers had curled around the little bag. Nodding in an off-hand way to the Sage-Guru, Naruto thanked him and fled. His feet carried him to his apartment. In his ears, the Sage-Guru's knowing laugh echoed relentlessly, and he rubbed his face. Tightly, his fingers clenched the little bag. Small, sharp green leaves crumbled slightly inside and the tiny crackle brought Naruto's senses to a halt. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. Behind him, a quick rap startled him so badly his reaction was to leap out of the way, and he clung to the ceiling tightly, the little bag slipping into his sandal before anyone might be the wiser. The door opened and Naruto's old sensei stepped in.

"Naruto?" called Iruka. "You home?" trembling terribly, Naruto dropped from the ceiling and gave a shaky laugh. Iruka's brows creased. Concern danced on his young, lean features, scrunching the long scar on his nose. Opening his mouth to question the blond, he found himself silenced. Naruto had stopped laughing vocally, and instead was doubled over at his waist, quiet tears dripping down his nose and cheeks. Iruka stared at the boy with horror.

"Naruto! What's wrong, are you okay?"

"Iruka-sensei... heh... I should of known." he really should have known, for who else came house-calling but his one-time sensei and long time father-figure? The thought left him somber. Nobody else ever came except when he was late for training, or needed something from him. Who would miss him? Nobody but Iruka. Naruto sighed, knowing the school teacher would need a few months, but he too would forget the blond eventually.

"Naruto?"

"Hm? No, I can't go out for Ramen sensei. Sorry." Naruto told him, the fake smile he'd perfected quivering only a tiny bit. Iruka wouldn't notice.

"Really? Do you have a mission or something, you're not one to turn down Ichiraku's Ramen..."

"Yeah...! Yeah, a mission... an important mission!" Naruto had no gusto, but by now his false enthusiasm was flawless. He'd only spent his entire eighteen years working on it. It'd be a sad thing if after all that, he couldn't gather up enough chakra to give him a teeny boost in energy, to pull off the unblemished face of Uzumaki Naruto, number one knuckle-head shinobi. Unpredictable and a genius in his own way. Village clown. Bearer of the nine-tailed Biju, Kyuubi no Kitsune; and dubbed monster by his home... yeah. It'd be sad if he couldn't live up to his name.

Iruka was talking again, "Well, okay then. I've got some paperwork to do if you're not interested. See ya round!" Iruka was smiling and turning, hand going for the door. Naruto bit his lip. Iruka's foot was on the threshold to his little friend's apartment. Naruto steeled himself then lunged forward, arms wrapping around his old sensei's waist and his face burying itself in Iruka's warm, spicy Chûnin vest. Breathing in deeply, Naruto's two word apology only confused his sensei.

"I'm sorry." and Naruto was gone. Vanished without a trace, yet the taste of fur, regret and tangy chakra that burned upon contact, remained. Iruka couldn't sense the boy. Naruto was gone. Iruka forced his heart to ease up on the heavy thudding, his mind reeling when he caught a pristine, if somewhat aged, minty scent that taste sweet in his mouth. Guru leaves. Iruka's eyes widened and he trembled violently. Naruto had one person, as tradition went, and it had been his old sensei; he'd chosen Iruka to say good-bye to, to leave behind the last of his essence. Lips tightening, Iruka clapped his hands to his face. Sorrow washed over him. Was Naruto really that unhappy? He didn't seem so, he was always smiling, or laughing or yelling or... or... oh. Or withdrawing into himself, staring off into space. A million miles away, with eyes that dusted of pain, and a childhood that would give anyone reason enough... but Iruka supposed Naruto had a sense of hopelessness. Perhaps he hoped the Guru leaves would fill the void in his aching heart, as Iruka knew they contained the properties to erase unhappy, painful or unwanted thoughts, memories and opinions. Mannerisms were sort of broken down. Guru had their own system and culture.

"Oh Naruto..." Iruka whispered, falling to his knees. Somehow he hoped his words would reach the boy now past listening, with keen ears of stone. "I never knew... I never saw... maybe..."

Words echoed on the wind and danced in the leaves, trembling in each blade of grass beneath his lurching feet as Naruto struggled to clear the forest before dawn could rise. Catching himself on a rickety branch he breathed.

Maybe I thought you and I were too similar, and I didn't want you to be different. That's no excuse for turning a blind eye though. Whatever you feel you have to do...

On the horizon, lit bled upon the far-off mountains. Like a stain, it spread along the ridges with a bright, luminescent glow that only the sun could produce. Naruto's frame trembled. Taking in a deep breath to cleanse his mind, he summoned that deadly, burning chakra to his fingers and slipped the bag from his shoe. It felt heavy in his hand.

Know I'll never judge you for it... I love you and... I'll miss you.

Extending the chakra to his palm, Naruto poured the contents onto his skin where it met the chakra with a hiss. Smoke, nearly invisible, coiled up from it. Lifting the palm to his face, Naruto inhaled deeply, using both his nose and his mouth, taking in as much as he could. Holding his breath for what seemed minutes, he felt the leaves begin their work. First, they coated his insides. Next, the smoke curled into his brain and formed around everything like a dirty film. His vision dimmed. Suddenly, without warning, everything heated and seared at him. Inside him, there was a raging fire that stung and obliterated like acid. It singed his brain, his eyeballs and his throat bubbled. Throbbing agony built in his lungs. Slowly, like spilled ink, it swept into the rest of his muscles and sunk into his bloodstream.

Please be safe.

Anguish clotted like a cancer. Finally, the sensations of desecration within Naruto's system sent his chakra pathways spiraling downward, and he lifted his face to the sun that rose over the mountains. The moment its light hit him, he screamed. Incohesive words poured form this raw, bleeding throat and echoed high through the trees. Everything felt the tremor. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the light faded out and all feeling dimmed; the acid had washed all sensation, all senses, away. For a moment, it was dark and it was quiet. Something urged His footsteps forward. An unknown direction tugging at him and He understood: for the truly enlightened gave up their Self, something that defined them and when He opened his mouth to speak such words to the birds, He knew what he had given up. No words emerged. His voice had died and his mind soared.

Gaara of the Sand had seen many strange things since becoming Kazekage. He had been attacked by demons, by the Akatsuki, he had seen a blond boy conquer the world with his laugh and he had now seen that blond boy fall. Despair filled him for a moment. Striding down the steps, Gaara stopped before the boy and took in his disheveled, worldly appearance. Hazy, slow blinking eyes watched him and a tiny, wearied smile stretched Uzumaki Naruto's lips. A sweet tasting mint scent clung to him. Gaara knew then, that his dearest friend had surrendered to true enlightenment, and had found his way here to his beloved red-headed friend. Gaara felt his eyes dim and watched the boy sway in his steps. Somehow, he managed to find his way over to the red head and cling to him like a child to a toy or plush, and Gaara couldn't fight the infinitesimal smile. It never failed to appear in Naruto's wake. But this was no longer Naruto, even though it would forever be the beloved blond.

"What brings you, Guru?" Gaara asked, knowing the boy would not respond to his name, for the acid of the Guru leaves had seared away all knowledge of his past, or his self. The boy was slow to respond. But his words echoed and made the sand beneath Gaara tremble.

"You." the words settled like law. "I am here for you." Gaara knew what that meant, for it was a rare, but not unheard of connection a Guru may make. Sometimes, when they are new, a Guru will feel a pull and when they follow that pull, they find the person they are to protect, advise and love. Naruto had found Gaara. In some small way, Gaara supposed he should feel selfish for enjoying that his companionship had driven Naruto's hazy, animalistic mind to him, but another much larger part of him delighted in his. As it proved his existence meant something to someone. To Naruto.

"What am I to call you, Guru?" Gaara asked, his tone light. Pleased even.

"Guardian." the boy murmured, as if it had just come to him. He seemed to test the name for himself and then spoke more confidently, his hazy eyes focusing on Gaara. "I am Guardian." it was then Gaara realized his dear Guardian had not spoken, but the words had come from him nonetheless. Guardian had given his voice for Gaara. Now, the chakra being within him, below the boiling surface, dangerous and now unmanned, spoke with the child's undertone. It should have frightened him. It should have made him wary that Guardian might damage his village, or his people, but Gaara knew better and he knew that his Guru would never do such a thing. Not while Gaara remained unharmed and breathed yet.

So Gaara took in a deep breath, and spoke the words that bound them together, "Welcome, Guardian. I missed you." and he took Guardian's lips for his own.

"And I you, Shifting Sands."

Surprise took over Gaara but he relaxed. Of course Guardian knew the Guru name for his bonded one, for his life parter that not even death could part. Still, it was strange to hear. Someday, Gaara knew, someday they would wander the sands together. Tied by a bond greater than demons or gods themselves, and they would elude the chilling grasp of death until and after the many ages of the world turned.

Someday, Shifting Sands and Guardian would cease to exist, but it would not be until the earth turned cold and the wind's songs finally died.