Chapter 20
Chapter 20: Threads of Deception
Sakura sat on the edge of her bed, her elbows resting on her knees, her head cradled in her hands. The room was silent save for the faint sound of the desert wind rattling against the windows. The lifeless puppet rested in the corner, untouched since last night’s events. Its blank face and immobile limbs now seemed less like a tool and more like a threat, a reminder of how close Sasori had come to taking what he wanted.
She couldn’t shake the memory of his voice—dark, determined, and terrifyingly confident.
"You’re not strong enough to stop me."
And he was right. The sheer force of his will had overwhelmed her, taken control of her body as if it were one of his own puppets. If he could do that, what would stop him from succeeding next time? Sakura felt her stomach twist as she considered the possibility.
The thought of asking Gaara for help crossed her mind again and again, but each time she dismissed it just as quickly. Gaara was her friend—someone she trusted. But she couldn’t ignore the implications of revealing the truth. If Gaara knew about Sasori’s lingering presence, if he knew how deeply she’d lied, how much she’d concealed from him, what would he think?
The memory of Gaara’s kiss lingered, complicating things further. The way he had looked at her, the way he had trusted her, it all made her chest tighten with guilt. How could she ask for his help without unraveling everything between them?
“You can’t,” Sasori’s voice whispered, low and taunting. “Telling him would destroy you.”
Sakura jolted, her hands curling into fists. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said smoothly. “I know you better than you think, Sakura. You won’t tell him, because you’re afraid. And rightfully so. Do you really think Gaara would look at you the same way if he knew what you’ve been hiding?”
“I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me,” she snapped, standing abruptly. “You don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t I?” Sasori’s voice dripped with amusement. “Go ahead, Sakura. Run to Gaara. Confess everything. Let him see the truth of what you’ve become.”
She paced the room, her mind racing. He wasn’t wrong—revealing everything to Gaara would come at a cost. But if Sasori was determined to reclaim his body, what choice did she have?
The Plan
By the time the sun rose, Sakura had made her decision. She couldn’t let Sasori continue unchecked, and she couldn’t face him alone. Gaara had to know, no matter the consequences.
She found him in the Kazekage’s office, poring over a map with Kankuro. The morning light streamed through the open windows, casting golden hues across the sand-colored walls. Gaara looked up as she entered, his expression softening when their eyes met.
“Sakura,” he said, his voice calm. “Is something wrong?”
Her throat tightened, and for a moment she hesitated. But then she steeled herself, stepping forward. “Gaara, I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Kankuro raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” Sakura said quickly. “It’s... personal.”
Kankuro didn’t look convinced, but Gaara nodded. “Give us a moment,” he said to his brother.
With a shrug, Kankuro left the room, closing the door behind him. The silence that followed was heavy, and Sakura felt her heartbeat quicken.
“What’s going on, Sakura?” Gaara asked, his green eyes searching hers.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”
The Confession
As Sakura explained everything—the book, Sasori’s lingering presence, the techniques she had learned, and what had happened in the storage room—she watched Gaara’s expression shift from curiosity to concern, and finally to something she couldn’t quite read.
“You’ve been carrying this alone?” he asked when she finished, his voice soft but firm. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“Because I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I didn’t want you to think... I didn’t want you to see me differently.”
Gaara was silent for a long moment, his gaze steady. “Sakura, you’re not responsible for what Sasori is doing. But you should have trusted me.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”
He stepped closer, his presence calm and steady despite the weight of her confession. “What do you need from me?”
His willingness to help made her chest tighten, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. But then she forced herself to answer. “If Sasori gets his body back, I don’t know what he’ll do. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Gaara nodded, his expression resolute. “We’ll figure this out together.”
The Suspense Unfolds
They spent the rest of the day devising a plan. Kankuro was brought into the fold reluctantly, his suspicion of Sakura still evident but tempered by Gaara’s trust in her. The goal was clear: locate Sasori’s puppet body and destroy it before he could reclaim it.
But as night fell and the village settled into quiet, Sakura’s anxiety grew. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Sasori was already one step ahead.
“You think I don’t know what you’re planning?” his voice murmured in her mind, cold and mocking. “You can’t stop me, Sakura. Not now.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” she shot back silently.
“Don’t I?” he said. “You forget—I’m in your head. I know your every thought, your every move. And when the time comes, I’ll take what’s mine.”
She didn’t respond, but her heart pounded as she stared out the window, the moonlight casting long shadows across the room. She could feel him lurking at the edges of her mind, waiting, watching.
And for the first time, she wondered if she’d already lost.
The Night’s Betrayal
Sakura’s exhaustion finally overtook her, and she fell into a restless sleep. But in the darkness of her dreams, Sasori’s presence loomed larger than ever.
When she awoke—or thought she did—she found herself moving through the Kazekage’s residence once more. The corridors were eerily quiet, and her body moved without her command.
“Sasori,” she whispered, panic lacing her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Finishing what you started,” he replied, his voice calm and chilling. “You’ve already brought me this far, Sakura. Don’t fight it.”
Her vision blurred, her limbs heavy as Sasori guided her toward the storage room. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t break free. The doors to the storage room creaked open, and the familiar scent of polished wood and fabric filled the air.
“This time,” Sasori said, his voice tinged with triumph, “there will be no interruptions.”
As her hands reached for his puppet body, Sakura’s mind screamed in defiance, but her body betrayed her, inch by inch, toward the masterpiece he intended to reclaim.
In the silence of the room, the threads of fate tightened, and Sakura realized just how precarious her position had become.