Hey people! This story starts off in an exceedingly boring way, so I apologize; I just felt the growing need to write something again! It might take me some time to update, since I really don't have a plot yet. Any ideas would be VERY GRATEFULLY RECIEVED!

Well anyway, I shall leave you good people to your reading. Enjoy! ;)

My life in red.

I was only 26 when I divorced Guren.

We got married as soon as I left university, and I was 22 at the time. We never really did have a stable relationship, though I didn't notice at first; life was too busy and high speed for me to worry about our relationship for long. And anyway, Uni made me see everything in a positive light.

But Guren tried to manipulate me, and it was only 3 years on from our marriage that I realised just how blind I'd been: By then, she'd just about dried up my bank account, having spent most of it on clothing and other 'little luxuries'. We barely had enough to stay in my flat. She'd also managed to destroy my stability, and I was often scared of doing things that would upset her or spoil her agenda, since I knew she would find a way to get her revenge on me...

Hidan and Kakuzu, my best friends since secondary school, were the ones who finally convinced me to leave her.

Hell, that was the most difficult part of it all! Guren was furious that I would divorce her, claiming that she'd been the kindest, most loving wife possible, and that I'd deceived her and been cruel to her. She even tried to sue me by stating that our relationship was 'abusive'.

Well, that was a while ago now. I don't like going into detail about it. Anyway, I actually wanted to talk about how I got my life back on track after that. I'll start from the very beginning, so that you can understand me more easily (though to be honest, few people do).

My name is Sasori; I have brown eyes and bright red hair (yes, I was born with it...). I have a poor personality- I'm impatient, distant, and I have no social skills. I recently got divorced, and I am trying to get over all relationships, since I've come up with the grand theory that a loveless life is ultimately the best life. Hell, sometimes I can't see the point in having any connections at all...

Well, I guess that's all you really need to know. Not that you should be particularly interested...

I'm going to start from the very beginning.

And if you're seriously going to listen, then I hope you're ready for it!

Chapter 1

I looked up at the huge block of flats, and my pulse quickened.

Was this really where I'd have to live? In this run-down, broken building that had about as much appeal as cat vomit on a carpet?

I took a deep breath and wearily pulled my baggage up to the doors. I noticed that two of the panes were cracked, and the bottom pane didn't contain any glass in it at all. When I reluctantly entered, I was immensely relieved to find that there was a lift in the run down old shithole.

I punched the elevator arrow.

Nothing.

I hit it again, a little impatiently (I was never one for waiting).

Still nothing.

Damn, I thought angrily, it's gonna be fun pulling this shit up the stairs.

I looked at the number on the keychain of my new house keys. Number 62.

Great. Absolutely fantastic. I was going to have to climb at least 4 flights of stairs. With a suitcase that weighed more than the Earth itself...

I finally arrived at my floor, panting like a dog on heat, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead: It looked as if someone had poured ketchup on my scalp. I longed for my own apartment, which had only been on the first floor. And even in that building, the lift had never failed me.

I fumbled with the lock, and eventually fell into the apartment. I glanced around it, then immediately wished I hadn't.

The walls were sparse, except for some areas that were badly plastered and others that featured a beautiful array of moulds. The floorboards at least didn't creak, but they were placed in a very amateur way, which I knew would probably cause me a few accidents in the foreseeable future...

I just threw down my bags and went to look for the bed.

It took me a while to realise that the carcass of springs and moth-eaten fabric in the corner of the foretold future kitchen would be my bedstead.

It was marvellous. How in hell was I going to survive this place for any length of time?

I set about looking through my suitcase, cursing the fact that I had packed so much unnecessary rubbish; it looked as though I had planned to move to the Arctic, since the variety of socks, jackets and trousers just couldn't be explained...

I eventually came across some sparse cleaning products, and set to the gruelling task of cleaning out the sinks and toilet in the apartment, which seemed to have been coated with thick green and brown mould by their kind, cleanly previous owner. After around two hours, I slumped onto the floor and checked the time on my watch: 6:30pm. I still had some time to unpack my stuff, since I was fairly satisfied with the job I had made of the bathroom.

As you can imagine, unpacking was certainly not an easy task; I ended up just tipping the whole suitcase over and kicking it till I was sure that everything was out. If it wasn't, then it was staying in the case for good. I then wrenched some clean bed sheets out of the mountain of possessions, and covered up the ugly sack of a mattress as best as I could, whilst trying to ignore the various stains that riddled its surface.

After around an hour and a half, I had accomplished the enormous feat of making my bedroom look tidy.

It was only then that I realised how hungry I was: Hell, I felt ready to take on a full buffet! I took one last look at the depressing little room, before taking my leave to find some food.

The chilling air outside greeted me in an unceremonious manner, rushing past my neck and ears in a way that no hat, scarf, or any other item of clothing, would ever save me from.

It didn't take me too long to find a place to eat; a small restaurant sat on the corner of my new street, its yellowish light beckoning to me like a star.

Yeah, I was pretty damn hungry.

I pushed open the small door which creaked painfully, as if I was the bane of its entire existence.

Much to my surprise, the room I had entered was...pleasant. A multitude of lamps of all different shapes and style hung from the ceiling, and some were sat in the corners of the room.

I sat at one of the small oak table beside the window, taking in the distinctly Indian tablecloth; it struck me as odd, since it didn't seem like a primarily Indian restaurant from the outside (these things are usually advertised to the whole world on the shop front, since the owners seem to think that people give a damn about how traditional the food is).

However, upon examining the other tables, I came to the conclusion that they were all from different countries; there were some from China, Thailand, Japan, and... Hell, there was probably one from every country in existence!

"Hey! Do you want a menu?"

I jumped, having forgotten that my whole reason for being there was to satisfy my ever-growing hunger.

The waitress brought me a menu from the neighbouring table. She had a pretty face, with eyes that seemed almost golden in the dimmed interior lighting. Her hair was a pleasant lilac colour done up in a high bun, though some of it hung down in gentle locks around her soft jaw line; her eye shadow matched her hair almost perfectly, and underneath her bottom lip, a small round piercing was just about visible.

"Thank you" I answered, realising that my voice was little hoarse from having not spoken for most of the day.

"I'll leave you to decide sir" She said playfully, and then added "Sorry for not coming earlier: one of our members of staff is off, and he normally does this kind of stuff"

"That's ok, I'm not in a rush" I answered simply, reading the menu in my hands. She nodded, then went back to the kitchen on the far side of the restaurant.

I was stunned at my own reaction to her; here was the first woman I had ever even noticed since the divorce, but I didn't even feel the slightest attraction towards her.

I guessed it was just the numbness I was still feeling.

And anyway, hadn't I decided on avoiding relationships?

I resumed my study of the menu card in my hand; there was a huge array of foods, some I hadn't even heard of. However, tonight I just wanted to have a little comfort food, so I ordered salmon and peas.

It arrived a short time afterwards, and I attacked it hungrily.

The waitress giggled. I tried to smile back with my mouth full, but this just set her into violent convulsions of laughter.

Eventually, she regained her composure and began questioning me.

"Say, you new round here? We normally get locals, so it's always exciting when someone new turns up"

"Yeah, I'm new" I answered after finishing my mouthful "Moved into one of the flats just down the street"

"Really?" She cried, "You met any of your neighbours yet?"

"um...No?"

"Oh right. Well anyway, Deidara- the guy who's off today- lives on the second floor. It's like four flights up"

I was surprised- it seemed the world was truly a small place...

"Oh, sorry" She suddenly exclaimed, her voice sounding a little apologetic, "My name's Konan, by the way, and the chef here is called Pain".

"There's only one?" I exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"We all cook, but he does it most of it, since he truly detests doing all this serving stuff" She explained. "Well, I'll leave you to finish your meal in peace!"

I smiled to her, then quickly finished my meal and left the correct amount of cash on the table.

I sidled into the street, already feeling as if my new home would help me forget my depressing past after all...

I climbed up the many flights of stairs to my uninviting apartment door; I'm definitely gonna have to paint this damn thing, I thought to myself as I took in the peeling paint and stains on the wooden surface. I pushed the key into the lock and went in quietly; it was a habit I'd never gotten out of, since when Guren fell asleep I would try my absolute best not to wake her...

Thanks to the long and tedious journey the day had brought me to my new reside, followed by the titanic cleaning job I had unwillingly had to partake in, I was ready for a good night's sleep: I hoped I'd be able to start work again the next day.

Maybe I really would be able to start my life again properly...