I came across an LJ community 1sentence challenge (livejournal dot com/community/1sentence/) from two years ago (Mystikat's Emperor & Queens—it's a Zutara piece) and wanted to do it myself. Mine, however, it's KakaSaku centric, with a bit of others thrown in. In short, this is a disjointed sentence-drabble that describe KakaSaku as I see it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters. Also, this fiction is rated T for mature themes; you have been warned.
Beginning and the End
The end is something none of them predicted.
One: Comfort
His arms are a refuge.
Two: Kiss
She places her lips on his (cold, clammy, oh god please live) and he exhales water
Three: Soft
There never had been as good a pillow as her breasts.
Four: Pain
Her heart does not wither as much when she faces the boy she used to love.
Five: Potatoes
"Fry it, mash it, boil it—I don't care, I just want dinner."
Six: Rain
She lets the tears fall when she thinks he's not watching.
Seven: Chocolate
They fight over the last piece, but when she holds up that fist of hers, the battle is suddenly over.
Eight: Happiness
He leaves the toilet seat down, thank god.
Nine: Telephone
That thing, he thinks with a shudder, is a devil-sent weapon of the women.
Ten: Ears
She talks and talks and talks until he thinks his ears would fall off.
Eleven: Name
"Sakura," he says with infinite gentleness, as it was dangerous to rouse her in such an ungodly hour.
Twelve: Sensual
The sway of those hips, he thinks, is far too seductive for one so innocent.
Thirteen: Death
She clutches his hand tightly with tears clinging to her lashes, and he, with a sigh and a smile, closes his eyes.
Fourteen: Sex
Though Icha Icha was a masterpiece, it was never as good as the real thing.
Fifteen: Touch
Their first caress was stiff and nervous, unsure of where their hands should be.
Sixteen: Weakness
He could never deny her anything in the face of her doe-eyed look.
Seventeen: Tears
She kisses his moist eyes when memories hurt too much.
Eighteen: Speed
When she calls him to bed, he races through the last chapter of Icha Icha Paradise.
Nineteen: Wind
That's what he was to her, gentle and refreshing and uncatchable.
Twenty: Freedom
He can't do whatever he wants, but he can do what he wants to her.
Twenty-One: Life
They were exiled for their love, but hope still remains.
Twenty-Two: Jealousy
He idly watches the ramen bowl and thinks, Pity, I was hungry, just before an angry blond sloshes it over his face.
Twenty-Three: Hands
Slowly, he pulls the mask down.
Twenty-Four: Taste
They sit on the front porch with the bowl of cherries between them.
Twenty-Five: Devotion
Her love for him is deep-seated, not the fierce obsession from her childhood.
Twenty-Six: Forever
"How long?" she asks, wishing, wanting; "Too long," he replies.
Twenty-Seven: Blood
A trail of red follows down her legs, and his exuberance is replaced by regret.
Twenty-Eight: Sickness
She feverishly pines for him.
Twenty-Nine: Melody
He likes the way his name rolls off her tongue.
Thirty: Star
Her eyes shine at his name.
Thirty-One: Home
Home is where she is.
Thirty-Two: Confusion
When there should be one, she has three men in her life.
Thirty-Three: Fear
They noticed that every time she's out on a mission, he becomes more absent-minded.
Thirty-Four: Lightning/Thunder
Her temper is like a storm: sudden and tumultuous.
Thirty-Five: Bonds
Teacher-student, man-woman, father-mother.
Thirty-Six: Market
Girls and their never-ending shopping.
Thirty-Seven: Technology
He blew most of his last paycheck on the washing machine, but when she smiles at him, his pocket does not feel so empty.
Thirty-Eight: Gift
The Fates are fickle; what they give, they can take away, he thinks, standing over her gravestone.
Thirty-Nine: Smile
It took a long time (too long, I'm sorry) for the blond to smile at her again.
Forty: Innocence
She licked her fingers and suddenly, she no longer seemed childlike.
Forty-One: Completion
Sweaty bodies tangle under the sheets, and he was a missing piece to her puzzle.
Forty-Two: Clouds
"There's a pair of breasts—" He earns a punch "I was about to say yours," and he delights in the reddening of her cheeks.
Forty-Three: Sky
A touch, a word, a smile from him makes her soar over the clouds.
Forty-Four: Heaven
Are his friends smiling down at him?
Forty-Five: Hell
"If there is a hell, surely I'm going there—" "—No, sensei," she replies with a laugh, "You don't have a soul."
Forty-Six: Sun
Every morning as the sun rises, he disappears; she doesn't say a word.
Forty-Seven: Moon
He dreads the cycle of the moon.
Forty-Eight: Waves
She is awashed by guilt—maybe I should have held on, maybe I should have loved him a little longer, maybe maybe—but then she realizes she has her own life to live.
Forty-Nine: Hair
He breathes a sigh of relief at their son's head full of silver (pink son, imagine that), and her monstrous fist comes hurtling at his face.
Fifty: Supernova
The earth explodes around her, and he's never seen such an alarming yet beautiful sight.