Chapter 18
Chapter 18: A Puppet’s Will
The sandstone walls of the Hidden Sand Village glowed under the fading light of the desert sun. Inside one of Suna’s larger practice halls, Sakura stood alone, her breath coming in steady bursts as she practiced with her puppet. The hall’s high ceilings echoed the soft scrape of its wooden joints as it moved under her command, delicate chakra threads stretching from her fingertips to the puppet’s limbs.
She focused, her movements precise as she directed it through a series of maneuvers—offense, defense, then a fluid combination of both. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her focus unyielding. The puppet darted forward, striking at imaginary foes before retreating with an agility that felt natural to her now.
But something felt off.
“Your form is improving,” Sasori’s voice purred in the back of her mind, his tone equal parts approval and derision. “But your restraint is tedious. Why do you hold back?”
“I’m not holding back,” Sakura replied under her breath, her tone sharper than she intended.
“You’re holding back everything,” Sasori shot back, his voice like a smirk made audible. “You refuse to see what this puppet could become. The potential is wasted in your hands.”
“It’s a tool for training,” she snapped, her hands clenching into fists as her threads faltered for a moment. The puppet fell limp. “Not a weapon.”
“Such a pity,” he mused, his voice darkening. “You have power at your fingertips, yet you let sentimentality chain you. And here I thought you were beginning to understand.”
Sakura gritted her teeth, her frustration flaring. “This is my technique, Sasori. Not yours.”
“Is it?” he asked, his tone turning sly. “Let’s see.”
Before Sakura could react, a surge of chakra slammed through her system. It was sharp and invasive, like icy tendrils burrowing into her core. Her chakra threads snapped taut, but not under her control.
The puppet jerked upright.
Sakura froze, her heart pounding as she stared at the wooden figure. It moved unnaturally, its limbs snapping into place with a precision she hadn’t commanded. Her fingers were still connected to the chakra threads, but she wasn’t pulling the strings.
“What—” she began, but the puppet interrupted her, turning to face her with an eerie, lifeless gaze.
“Interesting,” Sasori’s voice drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper puppet.”
Her blood ran cold. “Sasori, stop this.”
“Why should I?” he asked, the puppet taking a slow step forward. “You’re too timid with it. Let me show you what this thing can really do.”
Sakura’s fingers trembled as she tried to pull back her chakra, to sever the connection, but Sasori’s presence bore down on her like a storm. The puppet moved again, faster this time, spinning into an offensive stance before striking out at the air with blinding speed.
“You see?” Sasori said, his voice laced with mockery. “This is art. Not the clumsy fumbling you’ve been doing.”
“Get out of my chakra threads!” she yelled, panic rising in her chest.
“Oh, Sakura,” Sasori said, laughing softly. “Your threads? You’re the one who invited me in, remember? You’re the one who’s been using my techniques, my legacy.”
The puppet lunged forward suddenly, and Sakura stumbled back, her breath catching. It wasn’t attacking her—it was testing its limits, moving with a precision and fluidity that was undeniably Sasori’s.
“Stop this!” she demanded, her voice trembling. “This isn’t yours to take.”
“But it is,” Sasori countered smoothly. “And more than that, this puppet... this body could be.”
The realization hit her like a physical blow, her stomach twisting as she stared at the wooden figure. “You’re trying to—”
“Reclaim what’s mine?” he finished, his voice dark and triumphant. “Why not? You’ve given me the tools. All that’s left is to perfect the vessel.”
Sakura’s hands trembled as she severed the chakra threads with a sharp burst of her own will. The puppet collapsed to the ground in a heap, lifeless once more. But the weight of Sasori’s presence remained, pressing against her mind like a shadow that refused to leave.
“You can’t do that again,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
“Can’t I?” Sasori replied, his voice softer now but no less menacing. “You felt it, didn’t you? The connection. The potential. And you know as well as I do—it’s only the beginning.”
Sakura sat down heavily on the floor of the practice hall, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. Her thoughts raced, her mind replaying the moment over and over. Sasori’s control, his voice, his power—it had been too real, too visceral. And the worst part was the lingering sense that he had only shown her a fraction of what he was capable of.
“I won’t let you do this,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have a choice,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “But don’t worry, Sakura. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Together, we could create something extraordinary.”
“No,” she said firmly, standing on shaky legs. “This ends here.”
“Does it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “We’ll see.”
The confrontation left Sakura shaken, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The next morning, Kankuro came to find her, his expression grim as he delivered news that set her heart racing.
“We’ve located Shiroku,” he said, his voice clipped. “He’s holed up in a hidden workshop at the edge of the canyon. Gaara wants us to deal with him before he has a chance to regroup.”
Naruto joined them soon after, his usual energy subdued by the gravity of the situation. The three of them prepared for battle, their movements efficient but tense. Sakura kept her thoughts to herself, but the memory of Sasori’s control over her puppet lingered at the edge of her mind.
As they moved out toward the canyon, Sasori’s voice returned, quieter this time but no less insistent.
“Shiroku is nothing,” he said. “A pale imitation of true artistry. If you listen to me, we’ll end this quickly.”
“I’m not listening to you,” she muttered under her breath.
“Of course you are,” he replied smoothly. “You always have.”
The battle with Shiroku was fierce. His workshop was a maze of traps and defensive mechanisms, his puppets moving with deadly precision as they clashed with the team. Kankuro engaged him directly, his own puppets striking out with bursts of poison and bladed limbs, while Naruto used his Rasengan to break through the layers of traps.
Sakura fought alongside them, her puppet moving with an agility that belied her earlier doubts. But as the battle wore on, she felt Sasori’s presence pressing against her mind, his voice rising above the chaos.
“You’re holding back again,” he said sharply. “You’ll never win like this.”
“I don’t need your help,” she snapped, her hands moving in precise motions as she directed her puppet to intercept one of Shiroku’s attacks.
“You will,” he replied darkly. “And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
In the end, it was teamwork that brought Shiroku down. Kankuro’s poison weakened him, Naruto’s Rasengan shattered his final puppet, and Sakura delivered the finishing blow—a chakra-infused strike that rendered him unconscious.
As they stood over Shiroku’s fallen form, Kankuro turned to Sakura, his expression unreadable. “You fought well,” he said finally. “But there’s something you’re not telling us.”
Sakura’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Not now,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “Let’s finish this first.”
As they prepared to return to Suna, Sasori’s voice echoed in her mind, soft and insidious.
“Remember, Sakura,” he said. “This is only the beginning.”
And deep down, she knew he was right.