It started with lust.
Desire. Heat. Passion. There was no love, there was only two bodies, two souls, joining in the most intimate way, with the expectation that when the morning came, both would be gone. None of the feelings, just raw. hard. sex. Both of the Suna jounin had busy schedules, but the weight of ANBU missions for each came down all to heavy, all too often. Teammates, lovers at best, but underneath there was nothing but the need to release. The curve of her hip was all too familiar to him, and the dips of his abs too familiar to her. When the mission was over, there was no question of where they'd be—anywhere where they could be wrapped in each others embrace.
But it was not love.
It started with lust.
The both of them were attractive, his red hair and hooded chocolate eyes sparked something in her, and her pale blonde hair and tan skin drove him wild. The stoic, apathetic puppeteer absolutely dominated her, animalistic and uncontrolled when they met. She was fiery and sassy but she submitted to him, wholly and unabashedly, her body his to control. On the occasion, he even used his chakra strings, and the sensation that each brought to the other was electrifying.
It became more than lust.
She hadn't seen it coming, no matter how trained and skilled she was, the solo mission she was assigned had been clear, and she was not supposed to run into any rogue nin. Her red eyes barely saw the flash of metal before a sinister chuckle filled the forest she was in and an ominous presence found its way behind her. One moment there was the forest in front of her, the next nothing but darkness.
It took three days for Suna to receive a ransom. It took less than three hours for Sasori to find her. To kill every single shinobi in his way, and cradle her small, broken frame in his arms. To see the defeated look in her eyes when he asked her what they had done to her—as if her torn clothing had not been enough of a hint. To shake with rage as he brought the woman back to Suna, straight to his grandmother.
It became more than lust.
She was given a months leave off of missions, at the order of the Kazekage, and without the chance to negotiate for less time. She spent hours in front of her piano, eyes unmoving from the black and white keys, fingers often unable to move. They had broken each finger, taken her more times than she could count, left her with scars, both tangible and not. Sasori had demanded time off as well, unable to decipher the feelings that the woman brought forth in him. With no family, hardly any friends, and a fucked up mind, she was a shell of the person she used to be.
She was suffering, and he was the only one who could help her. So he did.
It became love.
He would spend time listening to her play, take her to the highest hill in Suna to watch the stars at night, sit with her in his puppet lab as he tinkered and developed new poisons. He would wish, every day, that he would see her lips curve in that way that made his chest feel heavy. He didn't know when he began to notice her smile, when he realized how bright her eyes used to be, how she used to have a radiance about her. She didn't know when she stopped being able to smile around him; trauma or no, he was still important to her. She could not deny the feelings he gave her, even if it they were ones she had never truly experienced before, it could only be one thing.
When he handed her a small, perfect wooden puppet figure of herself, she truly smiled for the first time in six months. He had never seen anything so beautiful (the memory of him giving one of his rare smiles in return was etched into her mind) and neither had she.
It became love.
She didn't know when, but every small tug of his lips, every fleeting twinkle in his eye, the mischievous smirk he got before the two of them made love, drew her in. Hook, line, and sinker. Her heart was his, no longer a part of her self, but split between her body and the gorgeous man she called her lover. He didn't know when he had succumbed to such a frivolous feeling, but the choice to pursue an intimate relationship with the woman, the choice to maintain an attachment with her, only led to one conclusion. He would choose her again, and again, and again. Without fail.
They were in love.
Then...
It became tragedy.
The Third Shinobi World War came, and with it, blood. Hers, Sasori's, their comrades, the enemies; blood was shed on all sides. The pair was a force to be reckoned with: Akasuna no Sasori and his shadow. Named for her kekkei genkai; the ability to become one with the shadows, travel through them, control them, even go so far as to create genjutsu with them.
They were lovers and they were the perfect team, killing more enemy shinobi together than more than half of Sunas forces combined. Both trusted in the others ability, both showed no mercy, and both survived.
But...war took victims in other ways. The fragility of humanity disturbed Sasori and he spent an increasing amount of time away from his lover and in his lab. Neither would admit it was obsession, but she often spent nights by his side, in turmoil over what could possibly be going on in his mind, what the purpose for his human-puppet experimentations could be.
What his purpose for drawing away from her could be.
It became complete tragedy.
He left no note. There was no argument, no exchange, no farewell. One night he was there, and the next morning it was if he had ceased to exist. She had never experienced heartbreak, never felt the pain of overwhelming grief at the loss of her lover. At his choice to leave her. Still, she knew his contacts, knew his spies, knew his network. She cried her tears but she gave him one message, then one chance, and finally one 'goodbye.'
Come home. The first one. Typical, desperate plea, even though she knew better. I will wait for you, Akasuna no Sasori. The second one; a promise. Shaky, but a promise nonetheless. Your happiness above mine—Forever and always. The last one. The defeat, the end of her happiness, her heart, as she knew it.
It was tragedy.
The underworld in Suna was like any other; dangerous if you knew what you were doing, lethal if not. Without Sasori to numb the pain, there was no other option she saw, no other way to cope.
Drugs.
The disgusting substance that made her beautiful crimson orbs dull and faded, the whites of her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks somewhat sunken, and her once tan skin, pallor. Where she had once been a mighty, honorable shinobi, she had succumbed to the ways of the ruined. Like the physical ruins in the world, she was decaying and broken, a remnant of something great long past. Her old ways, the life before she became the shinobi she was, in her days before Sasori. Like ashes, she returned to the dust of her past.
Yet still she took missions, came back each time on the brink of death, and threatened any medical professional to keep her addiction secret. The same one that was killing her slowly, disguised and hidden by her psuedo-suicidal missions.
She should have known she could not hide it from him.
It was broken.
Her mission was to meet with an informant, gather information from them, then spy on them in order to determine their credibility. Said informant was regrettably familiar, and though the mission went smoothly, Yura's eyes betrayed him. She steeled herself the entire way home for a meeting with Sasori. She knew still him, and even if he abandoned her all those years ago he would be...displeased to hear how she was not the woman he left. Not anymore.
He did not disappoint. Chocolate orbs held an angry fire she had not seen since he had rescued her all those years ago, but her own were empty. He was forceful, confused and angry as he shook her, demanding an explanation. He did not understand—was she sick? Did she have some type of illness he would need to cure? As a poisons master and proficient medical ninja he was sure that there was something he could do, he could save you, he would save you. He had to.
But her rueful, sad smile, paired with the very obvious bottle of pills on her table, spoke volumes. Still he could not would not did not understand. Why had she turned to such ways, what could possibly have brought her there?
Your happiness above mine—Forever and always. Her only response. His anger nearly doubled, but he could not tell who it was directed toward: her or himself? How had he not known that she was an addict, or that she had ever been? How had he not seen that she could not bear to be without him? How had he left her, this woman that he had 'loved'? How could she have let him go if she knew she needed him? How could she let him ruin her?
"Because, Akasuna no Sasori…my love…I am only strong with you. Because I love you more than I love myself, and while you can survive without me, I cannot do the same." His eyes must have resembled saucers, but to her credit she did not waiver. She simply touched his cheek, fingertips brushing over his face, tracing the line of his jaw, before dropping her thin hand back down. He caught it before it could get too far though, gripping it as if it were his lifeline. His only connection to woman before him.
"Yori[1] … I don't understand." She just smiled through her tears, his fingers moving on their own to gently cup her cheeks and wipe each drop with his thumbs. He did not dare tell her that he was no longer human, did not speak of what he had done to himself just days earlier, and did not consider for one moment that she knew. But-
"I know."
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
[1]: Yori, from japanese kanji meaning rely.
*Sasori leaves Suna at age fifteen, but for all intents and purposes I'm going to have him be 18-20 at the beginning of this. Whatever you prefer.
So, this is what happens when you read a few depressing fanfics, smoke a cig in your depressed mood, and then listen to the Weeknd and become inspired.
P.S. A+ at that name choice though~
Naruto & the gorgeous Sasori belong to Kishimoto!
"It's pointless
Like tears in the rain
So now that she's gone
Embrace all that come
And die with a smile
Don't show the world how alone you've become
…
When it's said and done
I already felt love
And I let it end up
Dying by itself
And when it's said and done
You were better off
You deserve real love
…"
— Tears in the Rain : The Weeknd
~ to die would be an awfully big adventure