Chapter 10
Chapter 10: A Desert’s Invitation
The morning sun filtered through Sakura Haruno’s apartment, casting warm light across her desk. The book sat there as always, its presence as familiar to her now as her own shadow. Sakura’s routine was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, followed by the cheerful voice of a courier.
“A letter for you, Haruno-san!”
Sakura opened the door, accepted the scroll, and thanked the courier before shutting it. The scroll bore the insignia of the Kazekage, and her heart skipped a beat as she broke the seal. The elegant script was undeniably Gaara’s.
Sakura,
I trust this letter finds you well. I have heard through Konoha’s channels that your study of chakra strings and puppetry is progressing. I admit I am curious—this art is rare outside of Suna, and I wonder how it suits someone with your skillset.
If you are interested, our craftsmen have recently unveiled a new series of practice puppets and advanced models. I thought you might benefit from observing their work. I would also like to see how far you have come.
You are welcome to visit Suna at your convenience. I will ensure your accommodations are prepared.
Gaara
Sakura read the letter twice, her emotions a tangle of excitement and unease. Visiting Suna would be an incredible opportunity. She had been growing more adept at puppetry, but working alongside the Sand Village’s experts could elevate her skills to another level. And… there was Gaara. She pushed that thought aside quickly, unsure what to do with it.
Before she could fully process her thoughts, Sasori’s voice cut in, sharp and displeased. “Absolutely not.”
Sakura sighed, rubbing her temples. “You can’t just say no without an explanation.”
“You don’t need one,” he snapped. “Suna is no place for you. Especially not now.”
She frowned, surprised by the intensity in his tone. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll learn something you didn’t teach me?”
“Don’t be foolish,” he said, his voice low and cold. “You’re walking into a trap—whether you realize it or not. The Kazekage is manipulating you.”
“Gaara wouldn’t do that,” she said firmly, her irritation flaring. “You don’t know him.”
“Don’t I?” Sasori countered. “I know men like him—men who wield power and think they can bend others to their will. You’re a pawn to him.”
Sakura’s anger spiked. “You’re wrong. And you don’t get to decide where I go.”
Sasori fell silent, but his disapproval lingered like a storm cloud as Sakura packed her things. The thought of visiting Suna filled her with nervous anticipation. She didn’t know what awaited her there, but she wouldn’t let Sasori’s paranoia hold her back.
The journey to Suna was long and grueling, the desert heat pressing down on her like a physical weight. But as she approached the gates of the Hidden Sand, her exhaustion was replaced by awe. The village rose from the dunes like an oasis, its sandstone buildings glowing under the blazing sun.
Gaara was waiting for her at the entrance, his green eyes as calm and unreadable as ever. He wore his Kazekage robes, but his presence was quiet, unassuming—so unlike the boy he had once been.
“Sakura,” he greeted her, his voice low and steady. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” she said, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, the faintest hint of a smile in return. “You’ve come a long way. I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult.”
“I’ve had worse missions,” she said lightly, though the heat had sapped more of her energy than she cared to admit.
Gaara gestured for her to follow, leading her into the village. The streets were bustling with activity, the people of Suna moving with purpose despite the oppressive heat. As they walked, Sakura felt a strange sense of familiarity and distance—the desert was foreign, yet the people’s resilience reminded her of Konoha.
The puppet workshop was a marvel. Rows of intricate wooden creations lined the shelves, each one a testament to the craftsmen’s skill. Sakura’s eyes widened as she examined them, marveling at the complexity of their joints and the precision of their design.
“You may choose one,” Gaara said, his voice breaking the silence. “Consider it a gift from Suna.”
Sakura hesitated, her gaze lingering on a mid-sized puppet with an elegant yet practical build. Its joints were reinforced with metal, its limbs designed for fluid motion. She reached out to touch it, feeling the craftsmanship beneath her fingertips.
“An excellent choice,” Kankuro’s voice rang out from the corner of the room.
Sakura turned to see Gaara’s older brother leaning casually against the wall, his painted face splitting into a grin. “I was curious when Gaara said you were learning puppetry. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“It’s… a recent interest,” she said, feeling a twinge of unease under his sharp gaze.
Kankuro watched her attach her chakra threads to the new puppet, his grin fading as she moved it through a series of precise maneuvers. “Your technique… it’s familiar.”
Sakura froze. “What do you mean?”
Kankuro narrowed his eyes. “That precision, the way you control the joints—it reminds me of Sasori. He used to move his puppets like that.”
The air in the workshop grew heavy, and Sakura felt a sudden surge of anger—not her own, but Sasori’s. His chakra flared through her body, sending a shockwave through her system. Her vision blurred, and she staggered backward.
“Sakura!” Gaara’s voice was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.
When Sakura awoke, she was lying on a soft bed in a quiet room. The desert sun filtered through the curtains, and Gaara sat beside her, his expression clouded with worry.
“You collapsed,” he said simply. “What happened?”
Sakura hesitated, her mind racing. “It was… just the heat. I overexerted myself.”
Gaara didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned forward, his green eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “You should be careful, Sakura. You push yourself too hard.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but his next words stopped her cold.
“I still care about you,” he said softly. “That hasn’t changed.”
Her breath caught, her emotions swirling. Before she could respond, Sasori’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife.
“He’s trying to manipulate you,” he hissed. “Don’t fall for it.”
“Stop it,” she thought fiercely, her hands trembling.
Gaara’s brow furrowed. “Sakura, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Gaara.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he stood and offered her a quiet nod. “If you need anything, let me know.”
As he left, Sasori’s presence surged within her, his anger palpable. “He’s dangerous, Sakura. You’re letting your emotions blind you.”
“And you’re letting yours control you,” she shot back.
Sasori fell silent, but his frustration lingered, an invisible weight pressing down on her.
Later that night, as Sakura sat in her room with the book open before her, Sasori’s voice returned, quieter this time.
“I’ve found a way to stay with you,” he said, his tone devoid of its usual edge.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your connection to me is no longer tied to the book alone,” he said. “I can anchor myself to you directly. You won’t need to carry the book anymore.”
Sakura’s heart raced. “How is that possible?”
“It’s already happening,” he said simply. “Our bond is growing stronger. Soon, the book will be irrelevant.”
She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. As much as she had come to rely on Sasori’s presence, the idea of him being permanently tethered to her was overwhelming.
“You’re not doing this for me,” she said quietly. “You’re doing it because you’re afraid I’ll leave you behind.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead, his voice softened, carrying an unfamiliar vulnerability. “Perhaps I am. But you’ve made your choice to trust me, Sakura. Don’t abandon it now.”
As the desert wind howled outside, Sakura stared at the book, her thoughts a chaotic tangle. She had come to Suna to grow stronger, but the lines between her ambitions, her emotions, and her connection to Sasori were blurring. And as she prepared to leave the village, she knew her path forward would only grow more complicated.