A/N: No idea what sparked this idea, but... when I get them, I run with it. Also changing the ages of the main characters. Like you really mind.

On Display - Chapter 1

She had played this role once before, on a mission in Konoha years ago. How many years had it been since that time? No matter, she played her role well enough, even after all this time. Her bold pink hair and deep green eyes made her the perfect exotic geisha, her older, mature, sensual voice easily winning the eyes and ears of the men she entertained. She would travel from party to party, sometimes several in one night, making the rounds and collecting her pay, plenty to get by on even after she paid her portion to the okiya. Tonight she wore a pale pink kimono with silver and green leaves embroidered on it, large pink flowers matching her namesake. Haruno Sakura, ex-shinobi, ex-Konoha citizen, survivor of the largest shinobi war in all history.

It had been five years ago, when she was only sixteen. Akatsuki had grown desperate in their attempts to start a global war, and in their haste they had stoked up a massive war involving every shinobi nation save for Sound, which had been overrun by Amegakure just before. None of the great nations had survived the war well, all coming to a terrible stalemate and trying to recover after massive losses on all sides. Nearly everyone she knew had died at some point in the war. As for herself, she found it too painful to return to the half dead city she knew, too painful to look upon the barely distinguishable Hokage mountain where fires still burned. There was nothing to go back to. All the injuries she would have been asked to deal with would have made little difference. Most shinobi were dead or alive, with little in between.

These days Sakura spent her time wandering around the small city her okiya was in, the geisha house large enough to have plenty of competition. The neutral countries had sustained minimal damage during the wars and her okiya was in the middle of a coastal town not far from the village of the Mist. On the other side of the water, though, she knew the village was laying just as every other great village did nowadays, poor and still half destroyed. That war had been a turning point for everyone. Uchiha Madara had been revealed as the leader of Akatsuki, Sasuke and Madara had managed to kill each other after the younger Uchiha killed Itachi. The former acting leader, Pein, had also supposedly been killed along with his partner, though the reports had been vague and untrustworthy. Perhaps they were still alive, but if they were, it was possible they no longer posed a threat. They got what they wanted, didn't they? An end to war through utter destruction of the great villages? If anyone remained from Akatsuki, chances were pretty good that none of them cared to fight anymore.

Tonight she was taking a ferry across the water into a smaller town, too close to the old village for her liking but she never passed up an opportunity to gain funds. She would return to her okiya in a week, knowing they wouldn't worry if she was a little late. After all, she was still a kunoichi, even if she trained herself these days. Few men could put up any decent fight with her and the okiya trusted her on her own. She stared out from under the tarp draped across the top of the ferry, looking up into the overcast sky, thick with the mists that gave this country its namesake. Slow, steady shifts in the air carried the mist for miles, the fog extending as far as she could see.

As she gazed out at the thickening fog, she couldn't help but remember everyone she had lost. Naruto and Hinata had managed to run away, though where they were now was a mystery. Shikamaru had fled to the wind country where he probably still lived, that lazy bum. Somehow he just seemed to live through every situation he was put into. Tsunade was dead, she just knew it somehow. The kunoichi had disappeared sometime during the war, but Sakura knew somehow that the last Sannin was gone. Orochimaru and Jiraiya were both dead, that much had been confirmed by reports. Kakashi was still alive, the only Sharingan user left in the world. Ino was dead, probably, along with most of the other members of her old academy days. Now there was only this, trying to move on with life and get over everything that happened. She was over Sasuke. Ever since the day he left, she had steadily moved on, past her ridiculous crush of younger years. All she cared about now was doing well enough for herself and living a life of no regrets.

The ferry docked at the small port in the town, water sloshing heavily along the hull as the bow slid into the gritty sand. Ghostly lights shone ahead, lighting the dock in muddy yellows and oranges, the mists curling around the lantern poles like snakes. Ahead on the path was a tall plaza surrounded by smaller buildings, the little port town heavily lit in the dim evening. Low crimson roofs topped the wide buildings but she went immediately into the largest building, her silk kimono rustling around her feet. She hadn't painted her face white as other geisha had, her own natural beauty being more appealing to her employers. However, everything else was the same. Her long pink hair had been done into a high bun, stuck with a heavily jeweled comb and a long satin sash. A wide green obi crossed her waist and tied into a square in back, decorated with a small string of beads. Nothing more than another beautiful geisha entertaining at a party, just as she had wanted.

Once inside, the warm heat of the inner fireplaces had been a relief from the lingering chill the mists always brought with them. Ornate walls and low tables lined the inner reception hall. She stooped to kneel at a short pad on the ground as she awaited her employer, patiently keeping her eyes low until she was called. Her mind went over the small arsenal of senbon and kunai she kept ready just in case, some tucked in her hair, others inside her obi. Though she didn't anticipate needing them, her old shinobi instincts would never wear down. After a few minutes, she was called for and passed quietly through the heavily decorated hall, pausing just outside the room screen until she was introduced.

The screen parted suddenly and she strode forward, eyes casting down to the musicians already assembled in front of her. At her nod, they started up a lively tune and she began to dance. Her hands moved slowly at first, filled with expression and longing, wanting to feel those old feelings again, those sensations of joy. Nothing could be the same, but when she danced, she at least felt a slight sense of what it had been like before. This outlet gave her a new sense of direction, something to do with her life that didn't involve sticking a kunai in someone's ribs. She flowed like water, floating from one position to the next, like the delicate flower she pretended to be. All too soon the song ended and she took a bow, finally looking up at the crowd of faces.

As she stepped down from the dancing pedestal, she instinctively grabbed a sake bottle from a nearby table, kneeling down beside each party-goer and filling their cups, chatting with them amiably. Each person having their fill, she stopped at the last person she had yet to meet, and she nearly dropped the bottle in surprise, the two looking at each other with recognition. There, only a few feet in front of her, was the ex-Akatsuki member Hoshigake Kisame.

He hadn't recognized her immediately, exactly. However now, with her so close, he could tell exactly who she was. When she had entered to dance, there had been the slightest notion in the back of his mind that he knew that pink hair from somewhere. The girl he had known back then had since matured into a woman, and he barely recognized her even now. Her pink hair and large green eyes had turned at him now that everyone else had had their glasses filled, and now he could look at her closely. She had matured nicely, and he had to admit she definitely fit into the role of a geisha well. It didn't take him long to figure out why she was here. Ever since the great war, everyone who had survived either scattered or tried to pick up the pieces of their villages.

Kisame realized he was staring and her and blinked rapidly, holding out his glass for her to fill. After a moment, she too blinked and filled his glass noiselessly, still looking at him tensely. Once she realized that he wasn't going to do her any harm, she knelt next to him and offered him a sample of the sweets on the tray she had been passing around.

"I never expected to see you in a place like this. Or alive, for that matter." Her low, womanly voice was different from the old high pitched girly voice he recalled. She still seemed a bit tense, but she covered it up well.

He chuckled lightly and took a sip from his cup. "Neither did I." Whether he meant himself or her, he wasn't quite certain, but he supposed either way it was true. Even he didn't know exactly how he had made it out of that war alive.

She observed him carefully, trying to think of how to respond. He was dressed like a fisherman, and knowing how attuned to the sea he was, it was probably his profession. Everyone else in the room was dressed in the same manner and she supposed they were his fellow workers, all out for a night of drinking and entertainment. "So you're a fisherman now? Didn't expect that one." Her slight smile told him otherwise, her sarcasm beautifully masked.

He chuckled louder, gazing into his glass thoughtfully until she refilled it. "I never expect anything anymore, it all just ends up going down the damn tubes and into nowhere." He grinned slyly and looked up at her. "No point in expecting anything, huh? The only thing you can count on anymore is that there's an ocean, and there's a shit-load of fish in it." With a lift of his hand, he nodded a slight toast to the truth of his words and downed the sake in one gulp.

She paused before filling his glass once more, nodding demurely. "Even the ocean can dry up, and then all you have is a sea of sand. The only thing you can count on is yourself."

He sighed heavily and looked out the window into the mist, watching as the feathery tendrils wafted their way across the sea. "Even then, you can die, and then what do you have to count on?"

His insight was unexpected. If she had been asked as a fifteen year old what she thought of Kisame, she would have instantly said that she despised Akatsuki scum like him and probably gone into a violent rage. Things were different now. After the wars were over, after Akatsuki was over, there was nothing there to fuel the old rage against her enemies. She studied his profile as he stared out the window, seeming somewhat apathetic and even a little sad. He probably missed some of the old shinobi life, the way things used to seem so predictable and certain. Now they both knew all too well that nothing was certain, and no amount of celebration and mirth could cover it up.

A/N: Just a little prologue so far. Trying to envision how the war might have changed their personalities and whatnot. Hope you like it so far...