title: Grave
pairing: Sasuke/Sakura
genre: sci-fi/romance
rating: T
summary: "He could rule the Underworld." Sakura clutched her side, the blood slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the road. "Why do you say that?" The boy stopped and looked at her, his eyes sad. "I just don't want you to be his Persephone." AU.
disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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If a man,
or anyone really,
had taken a train,
from Suna or elsewhere,
and came to Konoha,
they would've screamed
—loud, tormented—
over the fact that they had gone color-blind.

("Tsunade called yesterday. Said she had a job for me. She wants me to head over to Konoha."

"Then you should go. You were planning on going back anyway."

"I know. It's just… I don't think I'm ready yet. To go back.")

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The city of gray, where everything was either dead or dull, lifeless or broken, and foremost, hungry. A biting hunger ate up the whole city so that, son betraying father, or mother selling daughter, or poisoning a customer, was done so that there would be a piece of bread tossed to those who sacrificed and sinned.

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("I'd hate to see you leave. You're a stellar waitress. But it's alright to be selfish. Go back and find what you couldn't find here."

"Hah! This is Konoha we're talking about—the war sucked it dry."

"You grew up there.")

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That's why, the uninformed who thought to seek a better life in Konoha of all places—foreigners, mostly—stepped off the train, stared into emptiness, and got right back on; trains never stopped for long at Konoha Station. And nobody ever ventured farther out than a nearby food stand or ticket counter.

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("That's the thing. I don't remember. Nothing."

"This is your chance, then. Go. Run Tsunade's errand. Ask around about what happened back then; ask if someone remembers you. There will always be a job opening here for you and a free place to stay when you come back.")

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Konoha was not a city, but a grave. Only particular individuals who happened to be knocking on Death's door ever ventured passed the faded, fallen, and god forsaken sign that read, "Welcome to Konohagakure!" Most times, these individuals were prisoners who more or less faced a death sentence and were escorted by policemen to Konoha's penitentiary. Rarely would anyone in their right mind step into the city.

It was a place of gangs.

The poor people who couldn't leave lived in open spaces in the underground sewage channels to avoid getting killed in the gang wars that erupted all over the surface. Food was scarce and everyone was hungry. Gangs controlled the markets and claimed all territory, save the land that the penitentiary sat on. They exploited the weak and established several "red-light districts" where families could sell their daughters into whorehouses in exchange for food and safety. Orphans, starving and on their own, would run errands for gangs and end up dead in gutters or by the side of the road. The government, located outside of the city, never reestablished the police force that was wiped out in the war. The city was a nightmare and the people were living in it—the dark alternate universe that was only second to hell.

The attendant sucked in cold November air when he read the ticket-owner's destination. His fingers trembled, partly from the biting weather, partly from the shock, as he tore off the necessary piece and returned the slip back to the boy.

The boy was nineteen with dark hair and even darker eyes. He was tall and the line of girls behind him giggled in delight at his handsome features, not to mention, his godly figure. He wore an annoyed look and a black guitar casing that hung over his left shoulder.

Taking his ticket back from the stunned attendant, he stalked up the steps and into the warm interior of the train. He took a seat near the back where the engine churned, preparing for its expedition. It was unpleasant, the smell of the coal, but he would be left alone, and the grumbling of the engine, along with the hum of the train when it moved, would serve to blur out the whispers and gossip.

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She was loud. Louder than the engine that was his saving white noise.

Everything about her was blaring, from her shoulder-length pink hair to her gasping for breath because she had woken up late and ran three-fourths miles to the station, to the dark forest green trench coat that taunted passersby to look into her sucking, emerald eyes.

The train started moving.

He looked away.

She breathed out a "hello," and sank, to his dismay, into the open seat to his left. The girls sitting nearby bristled. They sent disapproving looks toward the pink-haired individual, and when they garnered no response, they glared at her with gritted teeth and beady eyes. He would've been slightly impressed of how well she ignored them, but he rather disapproved of her himself and opted to not acknowledge. He turned to look out his window and made a valiant, but ultimately failed attempt to do unto her what she did to the girls.

She dug loudly through her duffel bag and hummed. She was unfazed by the glares sent in her direction. She would sometimes glance at him, he noticed through the window that reflected her, and then return to digging through the monstrosity that was her bag.

A book fell from the dark green duffel and between them. He wondered if she would have the audacity to ask him to retrieve the book for her, to which he already knew he would reply a curtly, "Do it yourself."

The thought was dismissed when she hurriedly grabbed the book and stuffed it back into her bag. Finally, she had found what she was looking for—a bag of almonds—and pushed the duffel to the side.

"Almonds?" A few gasps were heard from the girls and he turned to see her out-stretched hand, offering him almonds.

"No thanks."

He tried to refuse her as meanly as he could. Apparently, she didn't catch on to his attempt—failed, again—and smiled at him. Her eyes danced and he knew, out of experience, that she was intent on starting a conversation with him. He would need to quickly put an end to her curiosity.

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

A perfect question. Nothing should be more off-putting than hearing, and speaking loud enough so the others could hear, that he was headed to, "Konoha."

—City of Hades.

The girls in the front gasped; the others who had overheard shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They looked away from him, whispering to each other and then turning back to the front. He believed he had attained the desire effect, but upon meeting flickering emerald orbs, he narrowed his eyes—annoying.

Her eyes were dancing again. Her brow was lifted, but a smile graced her lips. He lost to her curiosity once more.

"On business?" she probed thoughtfully.

He didn't know whether to give her a disgusted look or simply turn away from her. He found himself irritated, yet intrigued. After a while, he answered.

"Something like that." He then proceeded to turn away, with finality, making it obvious that he could do without a friendly conversation.

"Are you a resident there?"

He closed eyes. This was not working. She must not be fluent in leave-me-alone. He spoke without looking at her. "Yeah."

"Hmm." She seemed content with the answer. "I'm Sakura. I'm a resident too."

"Sasuke," he returned.

He did not tell her his name because he had succumb to participate in merry-making with her. No. He simply told her because he thought she should remember him, and his name, in the way that she purposefully made him remember her, and her name. It was only fair.

"You're around my age," she noted after seeing his face like what, once? "Do you remember the war?" she asked.

He turned then, to face her.

Though she had tried to make the question casual, he saw through her subtlety. She had put her almonds aside and now sat with a pen and the book that had previously been dropped—it was a journal, he supposed. Despite her clear, smiling face, he knew it well enough that he was being interrogated.

"No. Only that I lost a lot of family. Other than that," and he could see the disappoint, "I don't remember much else."

They fell into a silence, not comfortable, not blaringly awkward.

She opened the red cover and wrote a few things down. He watched her for a while and wondered if that was all it took. When she finished, she fed the journal and pen to her duffel and closed her eyes.

He turned to his window and focused on the blurring forest as the train passed. Quiet was reinstated and despite his early complaints, he was rather bored. While trying to organize his thoughts—he had to find a pay phone when he got to Konoha, he would have to find a motel and food, foremost, he would have to get into contact with his caller—he wondered where she was headed.

Though the thought humored him, it was rather preposterous—she wasn't headed to Konoha. Surely not.

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The train left them.

The girls stared out the window at the handsome boy with the guitar casing over his left shoulder. And though it was ridiculous, they were secretly jealous of the girl with pink hair and a dark green duffel bag that stood, yawning, beside him.

Sasuke just glared at her, Sakura was it?

She turned to him, her eyes dancing again. "Do you have a place to stay, Sasuke? Do you have friends or relatives here?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked curtly. "Do you even know where the hell you are right now?" His eyes were narrowed—she was very formidable in pissing him off.

"Don't worry Sasuke," she replied, ignoring his glare and the rumble in his throat. "I'll be fine."

"This is Konoha. Once you leave the station, you're not 'fine'." He thought back to when the attendant called for those who were stopping at Konoha. She was quick to wake and before he could wonder what the hell she was doing, she was behind him, eyes still sleepy, but mind unwavering—fearless. "It's not too late to go back," he said softly.

Sakura pulled out a polaroid camera from her duffel and snapped a picture of him—the click and the flash caught him off-guard. The camera buzzed and afterward, a photo was dispensed. She looked at it and slipped it into her pocket—oblivious that he wanted to strangle her. Then she smiled and took a picture of herself. He waited with clenched fists as a second photo was dispensed from the old camera. She handed it to him.

He took the photo and met with a pretty, smiling girl with pink hair. "What—"

"Keep it," she said, putting the camera back inside her duffel and zipping it up. Then she grabbed the dark green monster that held her things and faced him politely, in farewell. "There a motel not far from here. If you're ever in trouble, head to the big gray building downtown. You'll find help there." With that she stood on her tip-toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Tell them you're a friend of Sakura's and they should be hospitable, or at least, feed you."

He just stood there—angry and pissed off and wordless—as she walked out of the station after waving a 'hello' to the girl at the ticket counter. He might've followed her, kept her with him till his thoughts had sorted and he figured out what to do with her, but his eyes caught the shadow of a man who now stood on his right.

"Madara."

"We have work to do."

When Sasuke look back, out into the cold, gray city, she was gone.

He tucked the photo in his jean pocket and followed the man.

He didn't think he would ever see her again.

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tbc.