Discarded
He can feel himself physically react in a way he didn’t think was possible anymore.
He shouldn’t be able to feel like this, not since completing his transformation into a puppet. He no longer bothers to reveal the puppet that is made into his own human reflection even if he knows it’s the one his companion prefers.
He has settled for a more solid disguise, one that will instil fear in his enemies and work as the perfect shield to protect the core of his being. It’s ugly he supposes, but it’s not meant to please anyone, it’s the one he chose for a reason, however distorted it makes him look.
Orochimaru actually pulled a face with disgust as he first saw it but Sasori isn’t stupid enough to pander to someone else’s wishes for more aesthetically pleasing puppets, his puppets serve a function that has nothing to do with how they look.
He never cared much for beauty even while being younger and was known for being considered quite appealing, at least in comparison to many of his compatriots.
He had that dreamy quality in his eyes that worked in his favour and his body was lithe and boyish. The puppet version of his old self still looks like that and he knows it’s the only puppet Orochimaru has ever been interested in.
But that initial interest seems to have waned since Itachi Uchiha joined the Akatsuki. A new shiny toy for the snake Sannin to yearn for.
Sasori isn’t blind, he knows how things like desire works and he has tried to sway his companion’s interest back to himself without much luck. There is no use trying to compete and yet he can’t help but keep trying every once in a while, despite knowing the hopelessness he’s facing.
He personally can’t see the appeal of the Uchiha brat, not really, but on the other hand he has trouble seeing what’s so special about most members of their group.
To him they are primarily annoying, just the way he thought Orochimaru was in the beginning as well, until he somehow managed to worm his way into Sasori’s system and create a nest for himself somewhere inside the deepest core of the puppet master’s being, a place that technically should be closed off but somehow Orochimaru still managed to stick his claws into and now there is no way to get rid of him.
Not even Orochimaru’s own interest starting to wander means that his grip around Sasori lessens, it just sits there festering like a wound that refuses to heal, pumping blood mixed with poison though his artificial veins, preventing him from moving on, to stop the eternal suffering it is causing him.
Like a snake bite that spreads its venom mercilessly with no antidote to at hand. Sasori knows all about poisons, it’s ironic that he also knows how it feels to be exposed to it with no help in sight.
There is nothing Sasori can do but try to stave his pain off with hate, like a wounded animal lashing out in anger at the unfairness of it all.
If he kills his former partner, he hopes these feelings will cease to exist. That he can get back to the way things were before.
Before Orochimaru lured him into his clutches as well as into his bed.
But now he’s gone, like a snake in the grass he silently slithered away and the hatred in Sasori just increases along with the pain he feels. It’s excruciating, unbearable and it doesn’t help to know that Orochimaru is probably hurting as well right now, having failed to get his hands on what he wanted so desperately.
It did not take long to discover his escape, Itachi told them everything right after it happened and Sasori is the most eager to catch and then kill his former companion, even more so than Pain who technically should feel even more betrayed, as their leader and the one who went to a lot of effort to get Orochimaru to join in the first place.
Sasori takes it upon himself to catch Orochimaru no matter what, because he needs this feeling that burns inside of him to go away.
Looking back at their recent time together, they have been sniping more than usual.
Or rather, Sasori has been sniping, like a discontent spouse, grabbing every opportunity to bite, even in front of the others, angry and desperate when he didn’t manage to rouse the expected reaction from his partner.
Orochimaru just gave him one of those stiff smiles, like Sasori was bothersome but not worth the energy to bite back.
Used and discarded.
Yesterday’s novelty turned into today’s tedium.
Sasori recalls an evening where all members were gathered, not physically but through astral projection, and Orochimaru’s eyes were drawn to Itachi’s recognisable shape.
Having lost his partner Jūzō, the boy was all by himself and, like during other times in the past, Orochimaru offered to team up with him, causing Sasori to snipe out loud if he was purposefully trying to humiliate him.
The tension after the meeting was strained, Sasori feeling as if he was standing on the cusp of a large wave about to come crashing down and he didn’t know how keep his balance when it did.
The Uchiha brat is just a boy, although stress lines are already marring his features. But he has something that Orochimaru wants, it’s obvious to Sasori who also once had something the snake Sannin wanted.
It was different in the beginning, a beginning that feels like ages ago now even if it’s only a short period of time that has passed since the two of them teamed up.
Sasori never like Orochimaru, not even when the nature of their bond changed.
But he supposes there is a more accurate name than liking for what he’s currently experiencing, and the pain of standing alone in abandonment is even worse than succumbing to the weakness of emotions in the first place.
No, he never liked Orochimaru, but somehow he became consumed by him anyway.
And when the other man’s attention is now turned elsewhere it tortures him, galls him and makes him lash out, which is exactly what he does when it’s just the two of them again.
Maybe it started even before Itachi Uchiha’s came between them.
There is that whitehaired boy with the spectacles, Kabuto.
He’s something of a mindless follower, hangs after Orochimaru like a shadow whenever he can.
Sasori has turned him into a spy, making the best of the situation by having Kabuto trail his partner when they’re not together, tell him everything Orochimaru does and who he interacts with, like a jealous partner.
Every team of the Akatsuki is supposed to stick together, but they are all very different individuals that usually don’t get along that well, so it’s only natural that companions break apart for a little while, between missions, sometimes even during, although Pain doesn’t like it when they don’t cooperate.
Whenever Orochimaru used to stray, Sasori sent Kabuto to trail him, and the boy always dutifully did, as if it was a pleasure for him to do so.
That in itself is a bit suspicious and if Sasori hadn’t put the jujusu over Kabuto himself, he would suspect some kind of unhealthy interest with the snake Sannin which could easily cause Kabuto to switch sides.
But as it stands, in a world where loyalty is rare, and devotion even rarer, Sasori at least trusts Kabuto to do his job.
Orochimaru seems fond of him, or as fond as he can be of another person that isn’t himself, but Sasori doesn’t fear anything unholy developing between the two of them.
Kabuto has nothing to offer that Orochimaru might want, no great gifts, no looks, no talent beyond the ability to heal. He’s insignificant, good at what he does but never meant for anything more than the role of a follower.
Kabuto allegedly healed Orochimaru once, years ago, when Kabuto was still just a child.
But as far as Sasori knows, no other bond exists between them.
It was just down to accidental circumstances that put them in each other’s path once more, the way you sometimes run into people you once knew, never meaning to ever set eyes on each other again. Like a chance meeting of two ships signalling at each other through murky waters, before continuing in separate directions.
The world, however large it sometimes feels, is still surprisingly small occasionally. But regarding Kabuto, Sasori has nothing to fear. He was never meant for someone like Orochimaru, he is just a convenient tool that Sasori has the chance to employ when he needs to.
Sasori himself has so far never bumped into anyone he knows from his own village, he tries to stay as far away from the desert as possible, but one day it’s likely to happen, despite his efforts.
Just like it happened to Jūzō before he died. He probably thought he would never need to return to where he came from and then he died in a place he utterly despised.
That’s the irony of life for you.
As Sasori travels with Deidara a few days later, chasing Orochimaru’s trail with the aid of Kabuto’s clues, he feels relentless in his pursuit and wonders if he’s ever been as driven as he feels right now.
As they walk under a star-crossed night sky he recalls a night similar to this, with a different person walking by his side, a warmer night on account of the season being milder but otherwise comparable, if not for how he had felt back then.
Orochimaru’s trailing fingers, searching for a connection while Sasori basked in the attention, very much against his wishes. Because caring was a weakness, forming bonds being a mistake. And yet it had felt nice.
For a little while.
They stayed in a small clearing of a forest, staring up at the sky above their heads and cool skin against his own artificial body making him shudder with pleasure while Orochimaru complained of being too cold, but to proud to gather sticks himself to start a fire.
“That’s a part of my early life that I have no interest in revisiting,” Orochimaru said haughtily while Sasori bemoaned his stubbornness, but didn’t move to collect any wood either.
Such was their interactions, even out of bed there was a constant battle for control, to end up on top, preferably by climbing over the other to get there. The usual kind of affection between lovers never existed, both too selfish and proud to yield.
But it was nice anyway.
In what Sasori assumes is fondness he recalls that night as he keeps pace with Deidara that he already dislikes but who at least doesn’t know any history shared between his new partner and the man they are currently chasing.
No curious questions about Sasori’s need to be the one to take Orochimaru down. To Deidara the man they are going to kill is just a deserter that needs to be brought to justice, he doesn’t even know what Orochimaru looks like.
It feels strange to consider that such people actually exist. Those who never heard of Orochimaru, who don’t know who he is and what he’s capable of.
It’s actually a relief, because it means that Sasori won’t forever be walking in the shadow of a man whose reputation might very well outlive the actual man. If there are other people out there who hasn’t heard of the snake Sannin, there is hope for him to walk away from the mess of their relationship with his sanity intact.
If he was doing this with anyone else from their group of misfits, they would be all over him with theories and questions, as Orochimaru’s former partner and the increasing sniping between them lately, he is bound to have some answers for why Orochimaru betrayed them the way he did.
But he doesn’t, not more than anyone else.
And considering the time they spent together that’s painfully embarrassing to consider.
With every drop of pain he experiences, he transforms it into hatred, cold and raging until it fills him completely and keeps him going.
He can only say what everyone already knew, that the man never cared about the group at all, Orochimaru just wanted to do things for himself and joining the Akatsuki to one day rule the world was never of much interest to him. He had other goals to pursue, other rare specimens to collect. When what he wants has been plucked, he moves on to the next one without so much as a second glance at the previously coveted being.
When Sasori after a while realises that Orochimaru has taken refuge in the desert he considers if it might mean something.
Is it a message for him?
Sasori of the red sand, that’s what people call him, just like people refer to Orochimaru as one of the legendary Sannin.
They are their deeds rather than the individuals behind their reputation, both probably not entirely comfortable with that arrangement, never openly boasting about the actions that earned them their titles, titles they gained during different circumstances than what their lives are now.
But they live under the burden of who they are known as and instead strive towards changing how people will look at them in the future.
Besides, it’s better to be known as someone than to walk this earth as a no one.
When Sasori’s eyes finally connect with Orochimaru’s familiar shape, standing at the entrance of his hideout, sand whipping around them, Deidara saying something in the background, he wonders if killing his former partner is what he really wants.
But he realises that the time for a different outcome has come too late. Orochimaru made the choice for them and now there is nothing left between them but to fight until one of them dies.
He secretly wonders if it would be so bad if it was him who did.
Then the first attack is launched, there is no going back now and he turns the remnants of his pain into anger and hatred once more, makes it engulf him entirely and transforms Orochimaru into a target that needs to be destroyed.
One of them has to die, there is no longer any other option.
But at the centre of his inner core, a tug can still be felt as Orochimaru’s claws dig in to strengthen their original hold and Sasori miserably wonders if it ever can ever truly be over for him.
As he years later is still chasing Orochimaru with the same relentless eager, he is quite certain that it can’t.