Embers of Deception
Sasori's footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit hallway, his mind racing with possibilities. Orochimaru's notes were a treasure trove of information, but this discovery—the Ōtsutsuki—introduced an entirely different dimension to the already complex web of mysteries surrounding the world. He folded the note carefully and slipped it into his sleeve, his expression impassive but his thoughts relentless.
The corridor led to an open courtyard, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Sasori paused, his gaze lifting to the night sky as if searching for answers among the stars. He had faced countless threats in his time, both human and demon, but the idea of an ancient clan with powers that could reshape the world intrigued and unsettled him in equal measure.
He turned, his crimson cloak shifting slightly in the breeze, and made his way toward his quarters. If Sanemi had uncovered more about the Ōtsutsuki, he would have found out, one way or another.
Sanemi paced his room, the tension in his shoulders mirroring the storm brewing in his mind. The missing note gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t reach. His instincts screamed that Sasori had taken it—but what was the man planning to do with such dangerous information?
“Damn it,” Sanemi growled, slamming his fist against the wall. The impact reverberated in the quiet room but did little to soothe his frustration.
Years of survival had taught him to trust his gut, and right now, it told him Sasori wasn’t to be trusted. The man’s polite demeanor and calm façade were nothing but a mask—Sanemi was certain of it. It didn’t matter how many demons Sasori had slain or how many Hashira respected him. There was something wrong about him, something dangerous.
Sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, Sanemi raked a hand through his hair. If Sasori had the note, it was only a matter of time before he pieced together its secrets. That thought twisted his gut with unease. Whatever Orochimaru had uncovered, it wasn’t meant to fall into the hands of someone like Sasori.
With a deep breath, Sanemi stood, determination hardening his features. If Sasori wanted to play games, Sanemi would oblige. But first, he needed to ensure the remaining notes were secure.
Sasori reached his quarters, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. It was sparse, just as he preferred. He set the stolen note on a low table and began poring over its details again, this time more carefully.
The description of the Ōtsutsuki's abilities was unlike anything he had ever encountered. A being capable of drawing energy from the very planet, of creating and controlling trees on a massive scale—it was almost too fantastical to believe. And yet, the precision in Orochimaru's writing left little doubt. The man's twisted brilliance lay in his meticulous documentation.
Sasori's fingers brushed against the edge of the paper, his mind drifting to the possibilities. If such beings existed—or had existed—then their power might still linger somewhere in the world. Could they be the key to something greater? A new kind of puppet, perhaps? One that transcended the limitations of chakra and humanity?
His lips curled into a faint smirk at the thought. But first, he needed more information. Sanemi clearly had the rest of the notes, and judging by his reaction earlier, he was determined to keep them hidden.
That was fine, though Sasori isn't known for his patients—mostly the opposite. But some demanded it.
Sanemi's glare was locked on the stack of notes, his fingers tracing the edge of the paper as if the simple act would anchor his thoughts. His instincts told him Sasori would make a move, but he couldn't risk underestimating his opponent. Orochimaru's writings were far too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands—especially into the hands of someone as enigmatic as Sasori.
The faint light of dawn filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room. Sanemi stretched his shoulders, the stiffness a reminder of his vigil. He had stayed awake through the night, muscles taut, every nerve alert to the possibility of an intrusion. It wasn't the first time he'd endured sleepless hours; his years as a Hashira had conditioned him to operate under relentless strain.
'I've been through worse, he thought, clenching his jaw.' I can handle this.
But now, the sun was rising, and duty called. The time had come to prepare for the mission ahead. With a reluctant sigh, Sanemi stood and began gathering his gear. His uniform, freshly cleaned, bore the scars of countless battles, a testament to the life he had chosen. He tightened the straps around his wrists and checked the edge of his sword, ensuring it was sharp enough to cut through both demon flesh and deception.
Sanemi tied the notes into a tight bundle, his movements deliberate and precise. With the bundle tucked under his arm, he exited his room and strode down the hallway toward another door. He knocked firmly.
The door slid open to reveal Mitsuri, her warm, curious eyes lighting up as she saw him. “Sanemi? What brings you here so early?” she asked, her gaze dropping to the bundle in his hands.
Sanemi held out the notes without a preamble. “I need you to keep these safe until I get back,” he said, his tone low but firm. “Don’t lose sight of them for a second.”
Mitsuri blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his voice. “What are these?” she asked, accepting the bundle carefully.
Sanemi’s expression darkened. “Let’s just say... there’s someone who’ll want them. Someone sly. I trust you to keep them out of his hands.”
Her face shifted from confusion to determination, her grip on the bundle tightening. “You’ve got it. I won’t let you down.”
Sanemi gave a curt nod, his usual scowl softening for a moment. “Good.” Without another word, he turned and strode away, his footsteps fading into the corridor.
Mitsuri lingered in the doorway, glancing down at the notes. The weight of Sanemi’s trust settled heavily on her. Closing the door, she placed the bundle on a table and began pacing, her mind racing. Why is this so important? she wondered. Part of her wanted to untie the bundle and look, but she quickly shook the thought away. Sanemi had entrusted her, and she wouldn’t betray that trust.
As Sanemi made his way down the hall, passing by the garden. He paused mid-step, his sharp eyes narrowing as he spotted a familiar figure in the distance. Sasori sat cross-legged on the ground, his posture rigid in meditation. Around him, a peculiar scene unfolded: his crow, Aki, perched atop his head, chattering animatedly. From a nearby tree branch, Kaburamaru, the snake, observed silently, its unblinking gaze fixed on Sasori.
Sanemi’s jaw tightened as he surveyed the strange assembly. 'What the hell is he up to now?'
"OI! We’re leaving soon! Get your ass up and move it!" Sanemi barked, his voice cutting through the tranquil atmosphere.
Aki immediately silenced her chatter, hopping down from Sasori’s head and landing lightly on the ground. Sasori opened his eyes, turning toward Sanemi with an unreadable expression.
“Right,” Sasori said simply as he rose gracefully to his feet. Aki flapped her wings and took off, her voice trailing behind her.
“Bye! See you later!” she chirped, vanishing into the sky.
Sasori dusted himself off and approached Sanemi, his pace unhurried. Sanemi’s instincts prickled with unease, a familiar warning that Sasori was scheming something—he just didn’t know what.
“What are you planning?” Sanemi asked bluntly, his tone sharp and accusatory.
Sasori offered a faint smile, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his voice smooth and sincere—or at least, it would have sounded sincere to anyone else.
Sanemi’s fists clenched at his sides, his teeth grinding in frustration. 'The bastard’s toying with me,' he thought bitterly. But he didn’t press further, unwilling to give Sasori the satisfaction of a reaction.
Without another word, Sanemi turned on his heel and strode away, his shoulders taut with tension. Sasori followed at a measured pace, his smirk lingering as if he enjoyed the subtle clash of wills.
They approached the gates of the Butterfly Mansion to find Shinobu waiting for them, her usual smile firmly in place. However, both Sanemi and Sasori could sense the subtle hints of irritation beneath her facade.
"Did we keep you waiting?" Sasori asked, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.
Shinobu snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at him. "Oh, no, not at all. I just got here," she replied, her smile unwavering.
"Then why are you—" Sanemi began, but Shinobu quickly cut him off.
"No reason. Let’s get moving," she said, her voice carrying a slight urgency that didn’t match her usual demeanor.
Sanemi rolled his eyes but refrained from pressing further. As they started walking, neither he nor Shinobu noticed Sasori glancing back at the Butterfly Mansion. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of Goro's new hat peeking out from a rooftop. Sasori subtly guided the puppet to relocate toward the Hashira quarters before closing his eyes and following the others.
"We have to walk to the next town and arrange transportation from there to our destination," Shinobu said, breaking the silence.
Neither man spoke further until they reached the nearby village and secured a carriage. Once aboard and on the move, Sanemi finally broke the quiet.
"So, where exactly are we headed?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.
"We're going to the Yoshiwara district of Tokyo," Shinobu replied.
Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "The famous red-light district?"
Shinobu nodded. Sasori's eyes still closed, interjected, "Are we hunting down a demon masquerading as a courtesan?"
Sanemi shot him a glare, hushing him. The carriage driver cast a cautious glance over his shoulder, likely wondering about their odd conversation. Shinobu leaned in slightly and lowered her voice.
"Not exactly," she whispered. "There have been reports of multiple demons in the area, but..." She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"But?" Sanemi pressed.
Shinobu sighed. "The demons reported are described as children."
Sanemi frowned. "Demon children?"
"Demon children," Shinobu clarified, her tone tinged with irritation.
"Ah, so our mission is to find the demon responsible for turning kids into demons?" Sanemi asked, his voice grim.
Shinobu nodded. "Correct. We won’t be the only team there. Uzui and Kamado's group will also be present."
Sanemi tilted his head. "Why are they needed?"
"There have also been sightings of either an Upper or Lower Moon demon in the area," Shinobu explained. "Uzui and the others will focus on that threat while we handle crowd control and..." She hesitated for a moment before finishing. "Eliminate the other demons."
Sasori tapped his arm rhythmically, the sound breaking the brief silence. "So, we’re tasked with cleaning up while they handle the big threat?"
Shinobu shot him a glance but didn’t respond immediately. "Both roles are important," she said after a pause. "We can't risk letting the smaller demons escape or cause more harm while the primary battle unfolds."
The carriage continued its journey, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension as the group prepared themselves for the challenges awaiting them in Yoshiwara. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the road filled the silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
As they traveled, Shinobu and Sanemi couldn't help but notice a slight smirk creeping onto Sasori's face, his eyes still closed in apparent contemplation.
Sanemi narrowed his eyes, suspicion prickling at him, but he held his tongue. 'What the hell is he so amused about?' he wondered, his annoyance growing. Shinobu, on the other hand, gave a quick sideways glance at Sasori but chose not to comment, her thoughts too preoccupied with the mission ahead.
The faint smirk lingered on Sasori’s lips, his expression unreadable. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t about to share it. The tension between the three of them remained unspoken but palpable as the carriage rolled ever closer to Yoshiwara, the shadow of their task looming over them.
-Goro-
As Sasori closed his eyes, his perception shifted. Through Goro’s eyes, the world around him seemed to blur, leaping over rooftops with the wind rushing past. The destination was clear—the top of Love Hashira's room, where a grand sakura tree stood as a symbol of beauty and serenity.
With silent grace, Goro landed on the branches, the delicate pink petals swirling around him like a protective veil. He crouched low, blending into the vibrant foliage, his eyes locked on the window. Inside, Mitsuri stood guard, her focus unwavering, her gaze locked on the stack of notes she guarded so fiercely.
Goro’s claws, maneuvered by Sasori's will, moved to his chest, pulling out a small, glinting lighter, a piece of Sasori’s craftsmanship. With a flick, the flame ignited, its warmth kissing his hand before he moved it toward the tree. The fire spread quickly, a whisper turning into a roar. The once tranquil tree, so full of life and color, began to crackle, its leaves curling and turning to ash.
Sasori’s hand tightened over Goro’s strings, guiding him to leap from the tree and scale the roof. His eyes never left the growing inferno below, the flames licking the sky and casting a fiery glow over the yard.
Mitsuri’s voice suddenly pierced the air. She screamed, her face stricken with disbelief as she rushed into the backyard. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the burning tree, the fire spreading with ruthless hunger. In a panic, she turned and sprinted toward the water source, desperate to extinguish the flames.
Seizing the moment, Sasori manipulated Goro to slink toward Mitsuri’s window. But as he approached, the window was locked—impossible to slip through unnoticed. Without hesitation, Goro smashed the glass with a swift blow. The shards scattered like a thousand tiny weapons as Goro slid inside, moving swiftly and silently.
With practiced precision, Sasori guided Goro to snatch the stack of notes, cradling them with cold efficiency as he made his way out. His feet hit the ground, and with a flick of Sasori’s hand, Goro dashed into the streets, disappearing into the shadowed woods.
Sasori’s gaze shifted, watching from the shadows. He allowed himself a moment to observe the burning sakura tree—once a symbol of beauty, now a raging inferno. The vibrant pink leaves had been reduced to charred remnants, floating in the wind like forgotten memories, while the flames continued to consume what was once pure.