Chapter 31 New Discovery
Sasori stood tall, his chakra strings pulled taut, glowing faintly in the dim, ruined forest. Slowly, methodically, Tenshu's massive, mutilated frame rose from the ground. No longer a fearsome demon, it was now a lifeless puppet under Sasori's absolute control. The battlefield was eerily silent, save for the faint creak of Tenshu's movements as Sasori manipulated his newest creation.
He studied the twisted remnants of the demon, a flicker of satisfaction lighting his cold eyes. "Perfect," he murmured, running his hand along the scorched and battered scales that now obeyed his every whim.
Taking a step back, Sasori observed his work with clinical precision. The massive form of Tenshu—now twisted into an unholy marionette—loomed over the clearing, its once-mighty presence reduced to a tool of destruction.
"I'll name you... Ryukan," Sasori declared, his voice devoid of emotion. The name echoed in the still air, a grim symbol of his dominance.
Behind him, Hinatsuru and Suma climbed out of the hole in the splintered cabinet, their eyes wide as they took in the destruction.
Suma glanced around, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Sasori? What the hell happened to our backyard?"
Hinatsuru, still shaken, added sharply, "Actually, a more important question—where's Makio?"
Sasori's gaze didn't waver as he pointed behind them. "She's over there."
The two women spun around to see Makio approaching. She cradled a child protectively in her arms, while two strange puppets hovered behind her, suspended slightly off the ground by chakra strings.
"Is she... holding a child?" Suma asked, blinking in surprise.
"Where did you get a child?" Hinatsuru demanded as Makio drew closer.
Makio adjusted her grip on the sleeping child and replied, "The demons had him. That's why they were stealing your food—to feed him."
Sasori's voice cut through the moment as Ren and Riku floated silently to his side. "It doesn't matter why. They're irrelevant now."
Suma hesitated, her voice was soft with uncertainty. "So... they weren't bad demons?"
She remembered Uzui mentioning a demon girl who didn't eat humans. Could there be others like her?
Sasori shrugged dismissively. "I don't care if they're good or bad. All that matters is whether they make good puppets." He turned back to Ryukan, making the giant body move with a flick of his fingers.
Makio, now standing beside Suma and Hinatsuru, stared at Sasori incredulously. "Oi! What the hell are you doing? Why haven't you finished it off yet?"
"Killing him would waste a valuable resource," Sasori replied flatly, his focus still on the towering puppet.
Makio instinctively clutched the child tighter against her chest, her tone turning defensive. "Resource? What do you mean by that?"
Hinatsuru paled as realization dawned on her. "You're... you're turning demons into puppets," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tengen had warned them about Sasori's methods—his cold logic, his ingenuity, his twisted strategies. But hearing about it was nothing compared to seeing it with their own eyes.
Suma's brow furrowed, her voice uneasy. "Isn't that... a bit immoral?"
Sasori's cold gaze finally shifted to them, his voice devoid of empathy. "Morality is irrelevant. Power is the only thing that matters."
The three wives exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Sasori's philosophy settling heavily in the air. His detachment was unnerving, and his willingness to exploit even demons for his purposes left them questioning his true nature.
But Sasori's thoughts were far removed from their moral dilemmas. His focus was singular, sharpened by a looming threat—Orochimaru was still alive.
Sasori clenched his fist, feeling the faint pulse of his chakra strings tightening around his new creation. His arsenal of puppets, painstakingly crafted over decades, was now all but gone. He had been stripped of the tools that made him formidable, leaving him vulnerable against a foe as cunning and dangerous as Orochimaru.
The snake had centuries to hone his abilities, to grow stronger and more insidious. Sasori couldn't afford to underestimate him again. Their last confrontation had been a bitter reminder of his limitations, and he wouldn't risk another battle without sufficient power.
He looked up at Ryukan, the massive demon-turned-puppet towering before him. Its strength would be a crucial addition to his arsenal. But it wasn't enough. Sasori needed more—stronger puppets, better resources, and time to rebuild. Only then could he stand a chance of finishing Orochimaru once and for all.
"I won't let him get away. Not like last time," Sasori thought, his expression hardening as he pulled out a scroll.
With a precise motion, he opened the scroll and held it aloft. One by one, his puppets were drawn into it, their shattered pieces vanishing into its depths. The wives watched, wide-eyed, as the scroll worked its magic.
"Holy shit, he's the real deal..." Makio muttered under her breath, her words meant only for the other wives. But Sasori, with his keen senses, heard her. He didn't acknowledge it, nor did he care enough to respond.
He pulled out another scroll and used his chakra strings to gather the broken remnants of his destroyed puppets, sealing them away as well. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as if each piece had its place in his grand design.
"Soo... now what?" Suma whispered to the others, her voice low. Makio simply shrugged, her expression unreadable.
"Are you going to leave?" Hinatsuru asked cautiously.
Sasori shook his head. "Not yet. I'll stay until I've fixed my puppets." He pocketed the scrolls with practiced ease.
"And how long will that take?" Suma asked, clearly uneasy.
"Probably leave by tomorrow," Sasori said, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise.
"I see..." Suma murmured as they watched him walk back toward the mansion, his silhouette framed by the soft morning light.
"What do we do now?" Makio asked, glancing around at the destruction. The once-vibrant forest was now a field of fallen trees and chaos. "We probably should've asked him how he managed to do all this," she added, crossing her arms.
"If he's from back then, he probably uses chakra," Hinatsuru said thoughtfully. "And if that's true, he can probably cast jutsu... if the stories are to be believed."
"Sure, but what do we do with all the fallen trees? And this massive empty plot of land?" Suma asked, gesturing at the devastated landscape.
Makio smirked, her tone light. "We could use the wood to build a second mansion," she joked, though the suggestion made the situation feel even stranger.
Suddenly, a soft cry broke through the tense atmosphere. The child in Makio's arms stirred, his wails growing louder.
"Ah! What do we do? He's crying!" Suma exclaimed, her voice trembling with panic as if she might cry herself.
Makio adjusted the child, trying to soothe him while exchanging a glance with Hinatsuru. The three of them might have survived countless battles, but dealing with a crying child seemed like an entirely different kind of challenge.
-Back with Sasori-
Sasori entered his room, tossing the scroll containing his destroyed puppets onto the bed with a casual flick of his wrist. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another scroll, unsealing it to summon Ryukan. The massive puppet nearly toppled forward, but Sasori deftly caught it with his chakra strings, carefully maneuvering it into a seated position on the floor.
Before he could begin repairing his damaged arsenal, Sasori turned his focus to an intriguing possibility: harnessing Ryukan's Blood Demon Art. Unlike Seraphina, whose abilities were straightforward to control—requiring only the activation of her mask—Ryukan posed a more complex challenge. Speaking of Seraphina, Sasori made a mental note: he needed to craft a much sturdier helmet for her.
As he examined Ryukan, his keen eyes noticed something remarkable. The demon's scales were slowly regenerating, re-growing over the damaged areas.
"Interesting..." Sasori murmured, stepping closer. "It seems you can regenerate your scales. Makes sense—it's a part of your body, after all."
His fingers flexed, the chakra strings twitching slightly. "Hmm... I wonder," he muttered, his voice laced with curiosity. "Could the same technique I use to control humans' kekkei genkai work here? It might seem impossible, considering demons regenerate their bodies... but with your scales, it just might be feasible."
A smirk spread across Sasori's face as the idea solidified in his mind. With deliberate precision, he unsealed the blade in his wrist and cut a square-shaped section on the back of Ryukan's head, exposing part of the brain.
Sasori acted swiftly, his movements precise and calculated. Before the wound could begin to heal, he thrust a chakra string directly into Ryukan's exposed brain. His fingers twitched with practiced finesse, and the demon's muscles spasmed in response, bending to his will.
The scales, once a defense, now shifted unnaturally under Sasori's control. They slithered into the open wound, weaving into the skull and sealing it from within, effectively halting the regenerative process.
"Perfect," Sasori said, satisfaction evident in his voice. With Ryukan now under his complete control, Sasori could manipulate not just his body but his Blood Demon Art as well.
This wasn't the first time Sasori had devised a method to overcome biological limitations. When he first experimented with controlling human kekkei genkai through puppetry, he'd learned that simply wrapping chakra strings around a person's limbs wasn't enough to access their unique abilities. The secret lay in controlling their brain directly.
By carving a square into the back of his puppets' skulls and inserting a chakra string into their exposed brains, Sasori could bypass traditional limitations, gaining full control over their kekkei genkai.
Demons, however, posed an additional challenge with their rapid regeneration. But Ryukan's regenerative scales provided an unexpected advantage—by using the scales to block the healing process, Sasori had found a way to adapt his technique to demons.
His smirk widened as he stepped back, admiring his work. Ryukan wasn't just a puppet now; he was a weapon—an extension of Sasori's will and a testament to his ingenuity.
Time slipped away as Sasori immersed himself in the delicate art of repairing his destroyed puppets. The room was silent, save for the faint clink of metal and the whisper of tools against wood and steel. Sasori's focus was absolute, his hands moving with the precision of a master craftsman, each motion calculated and deliberate.
The sight of his damaged creations stirred no emotion in him, only a determination to restore them to their former glory—or perhaps, to make them even more formidable. Every scratch, every fracture in their frames told a story of battles fought and challenges overcome, but Sasori viewed these imperfections as opportunities for improvement.
Fortunately, he had anticipated the need for reinforcements and had brought along several samurai helmets. "Always be prepared," he muttered to himself as he examined one of the helmets. It was a sturdy, elegant piece, its surface etched with intricate designs that hinted at a proud lineage. He had procured them for contingencies such as this, knowing that Seraphina's helmet was vital to her effectiveness in battle. If her original helmet broke, he would need replacements—and now that foresight was paying off.
As he fitted one of the new helmets onto Seraphina, Sasori couldn't help but admire his craftsmanship. Seraphina's design was one of his more intricate creations, and the helmet, though not identical to the original, gave her an aura of even greater menace. "This will suffice," he murmured, adjusting the helmet to ensure a perfect fit.
The room was dimly lit, the flickering light casting shadows that danced across the walls, making his puppets appear almost alive. For a fleeting moment, Sasori allowed himself to admire his handiwork. Each puppet was a testament to his skill and ingenuity, a blend of artistry and lethality. They were not just tools—they were extensions of his will.
Still, Sasori's thoughts were pragmatic, his mind already strategizing. The loss of his puppets in battle had been a setback, one he couldn't afford to repeat. The repairs he made weren't merely about restoration—they were about adaptation. Each modification he added now was designed to counter the unforeseen weaknesses that had been exploited.
As he worked, his mind drifted to Ryukan. The demon puppet's blood demon art presented a unique challenge and an opportunity. Controlling Ryukan's abilities would make him a powerful weapon, but Sasori was no fool—he knew mastering it would require careful study and experimentation.
The hours stretched on as Sasori continued his meticulous labor, his expression never wavering. His resolve was clear: to ensure that the next time he faced an enemy, his puppets would leave no room for failure.
Sasori's peaceful work was interrupted by a sharp knock at the window, pulling his attention away from his repairs. He turned his gaze toward the sound and spotted a somewhat familiar figure—a crow perched on the windowsill, a letter clutched in its beak.
Recognizing the crow as Shinobu's Kasugai crow, Sasori stood and approached the window. His movements were calm and deliberate as he unlatched and opened it, allowing the bird to flutter inside.
"Hello, Red," the crow croaked, its tone carrying an uncanny smugness as it dropped the letter near Sasori's legs.
Sasori remained silent, his sharp eyes fixed on the letter. Without acknowledging the bird further, he bent down, picked up the envelope, and unfolded it.
Dear Sasori,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I'd like to extend an invitation for you to accompany me and the Wind Hashira on an upcoming mission. Your unique skills and expertise would be invaluable, and I believe your presence could make a significant difference.
Should you choose to accept, please return to the Butterfly Mansion before the end of next week, and I'll provide you with the details.
Looking forward to your response.
Your friend,
Shinobu
Sasori stared at the letter, a faint, pleased smile curling at the corners of his lips. Folding the note with precision, he glanced at the crow perched nearby.
"Tell her the answer is yes," he said calmly, his tone carrying an unspoken confidence as he returned to his work without another word.
Kenji gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, as though unimpressed by the lack of ceremony. With a flap of his wings, the crow took off, soaring back out of the window and into the sky.
Sasori's attention shifted back to his project, his hands deftly moving over the puppet before him. The smile lingered, a flicker of satisfaction lighting his expression, though he wouldn't let it show—not entirely.