A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews. They are really heart-warming. :) This is a small chapter, but hopefully, it will be enough to keep you entertained while I work on the next one, where Kakashi is finally introduced. I know I said there won't be much of a plot to this, but after a long, tedious fight with my Muse, I stand corrected. There will be a plot. :P Apparently, most of the chapters will be short, but at least this way I will be able to update frequently. Like always, many thanks to Novocain aka my beloved beta.

Dead Is The New Alive is Emilie Autumn's song, not mine. :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

What is a day without a blessed night?
And what is peace without a blessed fight?

A quick taste of the poison, a quick twist of the knife
When the obsession with death -
The obsession with death becomes a way of life

Dead Is The New Alive, by Emilie Autumn

One evening, not so long ago, she had found the most unexpected item in one of Tsunade's messy drawers. It was an old, weathered copy of Icha Icha Ventures - probably the first book in the series judging from the looks of it - squeezed under a huge pile of mission reports, maps, medical textbooks, and gambling coupons. With the owner of the infamous book gone to have dinner with Shizune, her other apprentice, and Jiraiya, the infamous book's writer, Sakura didn't have to fight against her inner conscience for longer than five seconds. After all, curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back – and she was certain that her master would neither miss nor ask for her book. For one, the pages were so yellow and tortured she must have read it a lot. Given the Fifth's creepily efficient memory, she could have possibly recited it from memory by that point. And then, since it was apparently her secret, guilty pleasure, she wouldn't dare mention its miraculous disappearance to anyone.

Sakura had had to fight down the triumphant expression before it showed on her face. She was a medic-nin, a professional, and it was completely inappropriate for her not only to steal her shishou's lascivious book but - and this was more important - to have the urge to cackle out loud like a schoolgirl who had just peeked inside an empty classroom only to find two of her teachers making out. Apparently the blond-haired tornado, also known to a few as Naruto, was rubbing off on her. It was Naruto's fault, she had told herself as she snatched the book along with the report on chakra strings she had been looking for and stuffed them both in her bag.

Looking as innocently confident as ever, Sakura had then waved kindly at the nurse manning the front desk and taken the shortest route home.

As the man she had known for all her ninja days rolled off of her, his last guttural, stifled groan fading slowly from her ears and the smothering pressure of him inside her still numbing the entire area of her groin, Haruno Sakura was sure that she had never read a more inaccurate book than Icha Icha Ventures in her life.

She could breathe more easily now that there weren't spiky black locks tickling her nose or entering her nostrils and making her sneeze before falling lightly over her lips haphazardly – the light, teasing sensation reminding her how much she longed for a kiss in between the heat of perspiring heavily and the clattering of clenched teeth. The kiss never came.

She stole a glance at his form lying in a faintly spread-eagled position on the bed and seemingly not minding the fact that it was messy and full of uncomfortable-to-lie-on creases on the sheets. He was sweaty too, his collarbone glistening from accumulated beads of the cold fluid that were now slowly evaporating. His blood red eyes were closed, and she was thankful for not having to deal with something that would make her feel even dirtier. As if the aftermath of the experience - being left with a sticky and clammy sensation, the gooseflesh from the sudden dip in body temperature combined with the consuming scent that was sweat, blood, and quick, intense sex - wasn't enough.

Sakura shivered. The room was so silent suddenly, like there was no human presence or heartbeat within its four walls.

According to her traitorous book, the drowsiness threatening to take over her eyelids and push them forcefully down would lead to a deep, satisfied sleep full of cuddling, whispering, and selfless caresses. She was extremely skeptical about that, so she vigorously fought the overwhelming urge to give in to sleep. She felt Sasuke stir beside her.

"Are you alright?" he felt obligated to ask.

Was there really an answer to that?

"Mm."

"I need a smoke," he admitted. It was a hollow declaration voiced after another long pause.

"You don't smoke, Sasuke," she reminded him, voice mellow despite everything, subdued, and strangely coarse. "-kun," she forced out.

His reply was a dose of silence anew. There wasn't much to be said, and when he got up and disappeared into the bathroom, Sakura decided against waiting for her turn. A shower would wake her up completely. It would clean the dirtiness - it would tear the veil and make everything painfully clear. Maybe she didn't know much about relationships and sex, but her finely tuned instinct told her to turn onto her side, shut all sensations out, and give in to Lethe.

By the time Sasuke was finished with his shower, she was already fast asleep.

By the time she awoke with a warm ray of the morning sun playfully licking the side of her face, Sasuke was gone.