A/N: This is a dark one-shot I wrote a while back, but decided to repost because I did some major re-vamping. Anyway, enjoy. Comments and critiques are welcome. ^^

Title: CRIMSON LIPS
Point of View: Sakura Haruno
Genre: Suspense, Angst
Pairing: N/A
Status: Complete
Summary: No, this woman exuding a wild, almost reckless confidence in her every step was not the Sakura Haruno that everyone knew...or thought they knew.

It was a peaceful autumn night and it could be safely inferred that the majority of Konoha's inhabitants were resting soundly in their beds, all except for one. With cat-like grace Sakura Haruno hopped onto the ledge of her open window. She stood in a low crouch, a figure clothed in black, adjusting her gloves as she looked calmly out into the night. Her small flat resided on the top floor of a higher building and from her bedroom window she was granted a spectacular view of the entire village.

Tonight the sky was deep and dark, a vast and endless ocean scattered with twinkling stars, while down below all was quiet and still - the streets having long since left deserted and every townhouse light extinguished. She felt a heady rush, a sense of empowerment overlooking the sleeping village. Chills ran like powerful currents of electricity throughout her body because of what she was doing, and because of what she was about to do.

Grasping the edge of her mask, she pulled it up over the bottom half of her face until only a pair of bright green eyes smeared with charcoal peered out over the dark material, and then swooped down lithely onto the surface of a smaller neighboring building. From there she traveled soundlessly from one rooftop to the next, nothing more than a brief shadow under the full Harvest Moon. The village drifted further and further away, until the faces on Hokage Mountain were no longer discernable from her distance.

The land gradually began to change and become rougher, the number of trees diminishing to make room for dark and imposing buildings with flickering neon signs and dirty over-crowed streets with suspicious and threatening characters lurking in the shadows. She paused just on the outskirts of the shady town and removed the small pack she carried on her back, setting it down on the ground.

First she removed her long sleeved shirt and mask. Her sweatpants came next, gradually revealing more of the promiscuous attire she wore underneath. Before hanging her bag on a branch she fished inside the contents and pulled out a small shiny tube and palm-size compact. The crimson lipstick added a nice touch to her smokey eyes and false ebony bob, and she couldn't help but smirk widely at the sight of herself in the small handheld mirror before snapping it shut between her fingertips. She was ready.

Throwing subtlety and secrecy to the wind, she boldly strolled right into the heart of sin city, hips swaying seductively in a snug leather body suit that looked as if it had been painted on her skin. It was never something meant to be worn by the likes of the sweet and intelligent, pink-haired medic-nin belonging to Konoha. Then again, such a person wouldn't be found in such a place by choice - no less, in the dead of night and all alone. No, this person...this woman, exuding such a wild and almost reckless confidence in her every step with a fearless look in her eyes was not the Sakura Haruno that everyone knew...or thought they knew. But it was.

She purposefully made her way to the darkest area of town appearing almost ignorant to the hungry gazes and grins laced with promises of evil intentions being directed her way, but she was keenly aware of their movements. Inside, her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird and every nerve in her body alarmingly sensitive - not out of fear, but out of anticipation.

__________

It had all began roughly about a few months ago, on a night when the air hung uncomfortably heavy for fall; a force so thick and stuffy that each breath was a laborous task. Everything was unnaturallly silent and still, like the calm before a storm hits and all hell breaks loose. That was when her restlessness became unbearable.

It started out as nothing more than a barely there flutter of unease, nothing serious enough to take action on but small enough to notice. Then she couldn't sleep, and her already meager appetite became nonexistent. In the middle of the night she often began to tread aimlessly like a wandering spirit, seeing nothing and feeling nothing. Just...nothing. She wondered if she was alive anymore. For all she knew, she was already dead.

Every shinobi encountered horrific and unspeakable circumstances in their line of work, but how they coped with their pain was another subject matter alltogether. Many clung to a hobby outside of training and missions; something that offered an outlet, an escape that relieved their mind from the grim realities. Some resorted to spirits to take the edge of their own broken spirits, grasping at a transparent form of joy that reminded them of the happiness they once knew. But it never made them feel whole, only more emptiness.

Then there were those who just simply wanted to feel... They casually put their life on the line, pushing the boundary between life and death in an addictive game that was difficult to stop before it was too late. Sakura found she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop.

__________

Just as she'd hoped, they had followed. Not long after she turned down a deserted, darkened street a group of malicious and hostile men began to surround her - the majority of them she recognized as a few of the males she'd seen on her way in.

They began to circle her.

"Here, pussy, pussy..."

She smirked. They really didn't know who they were dealing with. When she was like this, no force on earth, heaven, or hell could stop her. She was unstoppable. She was...invincible.

"I'll find something for those pretty lips of yours to do besides smirk, you stupid bitch."

Slowly her head rose from the shadows, eyes green and vibrant, and dangerous.

"Make me."

__________

The sky was tinged a rosy pink by the time a masked figure clothed in black crawled through the space of her window.

She pulled her wig off, which was matted with a sticky, dark substance, revealing the mass of choppy bubblegum locks underneath. Next, she tugged the silver zipper resting right above her breast to just below her belly button and slid the leather material slowly down her torso and legs till it lay in a dark, shiny puddle at her feet. She walked silently over to the bathroom and stuck her hands underneath the running faucet, momentarily mesmerized by the spirals of crimson curling down into the dark drain.

When she slid into bed her sheets were crisp and cool, and felt good against her tired muscles. For many moments she lay staring numbly at the ceiling, partially waiting for that little voice of reason to evade her mind like it did every night before that and impress the dangers of what she was doing, but it didn't come. All was silent, all was still.

Was it reckless? Yes.

Was it dangerous? Very. But that was the best part.

FIN.