Sadism Is The Most Fun A Kunoichi Has Without Taking Her Shuriken Out.

Author: shutupandsing

Rating: K+ - Heavy T

Comments: So, I know I shouldn't be starting a drabble of any sort, what with two unfinished chapter stories floating around but I see this as sort of a medium. If I get what thoughts that are proving a barrier down here, then I can step up and update on the other two. The title is a dreadful kind of long and you might remember a Panic at the Disco song similar to it: Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Off Her Clothes. Which I don't own, by the way. I just changed it around to suit me.

So, it focuses on the kunoichi of Naruto, of course. It's not always going to be as angsty as the first drabble here as I will add some happy, peaceful moments later on. It is a drabble therefore I won't be pressured for updates, you hear me? But I would like to hear from you and if you must tell me to update at least put something else that will give me some sort of joy. -puppy eyes-

Mood Song: Breath by Breaking Benjamin and Let it Be by the Beatles.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any aforementioned songs.

It was the blood.

Or what Temari always hoped it was. Growing up with a younger brother with a penchant for homicide didn't leave much allowances for being turned off gore. It always disgusted her; the whole mess with still-warm intestines and the blood, always the blood. So, like often times, when it came down to it, she feigned disinterest and left the actual blood-spilling up to Kankuro or Gaara.

Maybe it was because deep down, Temari felt the raw emotion of humanity and couldn't help but see the life that lingered in the defeated shinobi, shortly before that same life died away. Just like extinguishing the flame of a long-standing candle.

If she allowed herself to, she would imagine she was close to the people she called enemies. She imagined following them home and noting with some glee the mud-encrusted sandals at the door, the home with a faint-underlying smell of cinnamon, sandalwood, perhaps cologne, and always, like always, the single cockroach sitting dead-center on the countertop.

She never knew why the cockroach was included in the daydream. Perhaps because it was the purest form of life. There could be a nuclear winter and like the stories go, only cockroaches would survive.

Nevertheless, she was aware of the real reason she could never spill blood easily and that was because each time she was reminded of her own immortality. How closer she was to becoming that shinobi or that kunoichi with their warm entrails blanketing the ground.

And she misses her mother, having been without her for so long. And she thinks it's an altogether useless thing to miss because nothing is ever going to bring her back. And it's ironic that her period came the day after Yashamaru died and she's never liked blood, even then. That, all those years ago, was the last time she cried because no one was around to help her.

And still, she continues on, because she feels like she's got to prove something to someone and she realizes it wouldn't be this easy to live if she knew who that person really was.

Author's Note: Drabbles don't make sense in my mind so I'm sure you're totally lost.