II
A year later he was days away from Suna when word came that there had been an attack. Kankurō had been incapacitated with a substance pilfered out of his personal lab and Gaara had been stolen away. In the whispers of his spies it was said that the ones who had done it intended to draw out the ichibi and sell it to the northern continent as a weapon, a mistake if he ever heard one for a variety of reasons. Konoha was marginally closer than he was and the council had sent a missive for aid their way.
What Kankurō had been dosed with had not been specified, which meant that it could have been anything he’d tinkered around with in his lab including substances he had yet to test.
Sasori arrived, according to the guards at the gates only a few hours behind the Konoha team and he proceeded without delay to the hospital after tossing one of them his hat when it became too annoying to bear any longer. The hospital staff were all murmuring quietly in the background as he swept by, too focused to pay attention to the details in the moment.
Before breaching the room his middle cousin had been stationed in Sasori could hear the craggy voice of his grandmother leaking into the hall. “As a Shinobi from Suna I am more than enough for backup. I may be old but I’m not dead yet and I have more experience than the lot of you put together.”
If his grandmother was so eager to expedite her impending death Sasori would not be one to argue. Stepping into the room he saw Kankurō sitting up in bed, sweating and looking pale but much better than the missive had stated. “I see you’re not dead. You don’t look like you’re suffering too much though...Did they mistake a paralytic for one of the deadly ones? ”
“Heavy metal.” Sakura corrected, holding a vial of the deep violet, almost black substance that he recognized as his greatest poison. It Started with a paralyzing effect,the moment it got into the bloodstream and began eating away at tissues and organs. It could take 3 days for a victim to die, if he allowed them that long.Sasori had perfected the formula when he was 13 and to his knowledge in the nine years since no one had worked out the cure. If he had to refer to his own notes to craft it and so anticipating anyone else could do it without them had simply never crossed his mind.
“This thing was a real piece of work by the way. The cellular destruction was astoundingly quick. You really ought to keep antidotes on hand for something this awful.” Sakura was still talking.
Antidotes had a shelf life, the longer they sat around unused the less potent they became therefore mixing them before they saw near immediate use was just a waste of ingredients. “Why would I do that? If I were to accidentally poison myself I would deserve to die and if someone were to be poisoned by me I obviously wanted them dead. Making a cure for things meant to kill defeats their purpose and is a waste of time. As for Kankurō? he should have dodged better. ” The moment Sasori decided to kill a person there was no going back and honestly he thought he had taught the boy better.
“What kind of statement is that? They’re your family and you act like it doesn’t even matter if they die!” Sakura’s teeth flashed at him through her snarl, as though she had completely forgotten who she was talking to but Sasori was far too busy trying to pick apart her words until they made sense to him to care about respect or lack thereof.
Was it supposed to matter if they were blood or otherwise? His own parents had died and he had never cried, not when they left not, when he finally realized it. They were dead and the world kept moving like they never even existed. That was just how things went, the only way to avoid it was to live forever. “Girl, Is that really something a Shinobi should say ? You should know that all Shinobi are nothing but disposable tools .” Each and every one of them were expendable, himself included if he ever met someone who could best him. There was no use in bemoaning such a simple fact.
“Why’s that the only way that you can think? Ninja’s are still human beings no matter how you look at it, saying that death is inevitable therefore its pointless to care...what sort of stupid logic is that?” Sakura’s eyes only seemed to grow greener the more fierce her tone became, her fist clenched so tightly it shook as she spoke. “If we go by what you’re saying, then creating that antidote was a pointless endeavor because someday Kankurō’s going to die from something one way or another. If that's the case antibiotics are a waste too."
He could almost hear her teeth clenched together in the stunned silence that followed her diatribe. There were very few people who spoke to him so forcefully, without a care to who he was and what he could do but it wasn’t simply the way that Sakura spoke to him that stunned him but the content of what she said.
Sasori had originally assumed his grandmother was responsible for Kankurō’s continued status among the living. Out of everyone, loathe as he was to admit it she knew his work best. she’d taught him the foundation he would build upon but in the span of a few words and making some logical deductions he realized that it was Sakura who’d accomplished the feat.
Tsunade had told him that in a few short years her student would prove a challenge and she had been right. For all his arrogance Sasori had never been one to deny a logical argument even when it went against his own preconceived notions, nor did he hold grudges against someone who rightfully bested him--rare as the occurrence was. It was simply the natural order of things, a person who was beaten fairly had no right to be upset at the outcome when they could only blame their own shortcomings.
Sakura’s argument was simply that if there is something that can be done to save a life it should be done whether what ails the individual is an infection or something more insidious and he cannot disagree but the idea that there is some inherent value to their lives pricks at him. His whole life, Sasori had been taught that Shinobi were different from others--expendable in service to whatever goal they were expected to reach. He’d been born in a time where children were old enough to fight in war as soon as they graduated their academy class.
He had. He had also been exceptionally good at killing from a young age. Sometimes without even trying. So good they’d given him a moniker that people shivered to hear. The Third, who had been his grandmother’s nephew, had lauded Sasori’s achievements, Rasa too. Even his grandmother had beamed with pride as Sasori’s kill count climbed during the war going so far as to reward him with every touchstone he achieved.
It was hard for him to fathom that their lives had any value at all, even within his own family. Rasa had used his own wife and child to create a weapon they could barely control. His grandmother had facilitated it then withdrew from the mess that ensued not to mention what she had done to him personally.
Sasori had underestimated Sakura from the moment he saw her to the moment he walked through the doors that day. He’d been wrong and following that line of thinking, who was to say he wasn’t wrong about the value of life as well? Or at least some lives. Perhaps there was a sliding scale rather than a flat rate. Sasori’s thoughts raced and the whole world narrowed in on the girl responsible, he wanted to know what laid behind those eyes of hers.
How had she done it? It was roughly two years since she began her apprenticeship and yet Sakura had advanced enough that it only took mere hours to undo years of his work. That wasn’t luck, it was brilliance at work. Sasori wanted to know the processes at play within her head, wanted to share what he knew.
“How unexpected. ” He said at last. “ I’ll admit it, you really are impressive...at least with antidotes. I’d like to see how you fight but given the situation it is best I remain here. Hag, you’ll have to tell me if she fights as well as she runs her mouth...if you come back alive.” He’s confident that Sakura would survive and somewhat hopeful his grandmother wouldn’t.
In the time that they were gone as he was cataloguing the state of his workshop and taking into account what was missing and what would need to be changed Sasori came to the realization that he had allowed himself to stagnate over the years. he could not remember the last time he truly had to try at anything. Sakura was like a force making ripples across still water, playing at the surface and stirring what laid beneath.
Hours passed and the surety he’d been feeling began to fade, what if he’d been wrong and she wasn’t coming back alive? It would be a shame for someone like her to die so young with still so much to learn and so many things left to do. Sasori had not been able to ask--”Ah.” He’d said to the empty air, at once understanding what Sakura had meant when she said human lives had meaning and that the meaning came from others. He was hard pressed to think of a person he ranked above her in the moment, beyond perhaps himself.
When Kankurō was well enough to move about he’d given him and Temari leave to take a small squadron and offer support if need be. They returned, no casualties accrued just as the sun was sinking, exhausted and sporting minor injuries. All Sasori felt was an odd sense of relief at the news.
He took a brief report from Gaara, Kakashi and Gai on the events and then Sasori had gone looking for his grandmother--a once in a blue-moon event, all to hear how the girl had done in battle. He could at least trust the old woman’s honest assessment of events, especially regarding a Kunoichi who had learned from a woman she frequently expressed intense dislike for.
When Sasori had turned 15, he’d demanded that he be allowed to live on his own and his Grandmother graciously moved in with her brother on the other half of their family's territory. He was through the door without a sound, silent by nature and practice when he heard a voice he had not expected.
“Those are his parents?” Sakura was speaking but her pattern of speech seemed slower than he recalled. “Ah, he looks like his mom…” there was a faint giggle. “But he’s got his hair.”
“Yes, My son Orimasu and his wife, Sarari.”
He stood still with his back to the wall as he listened. The number of times he had heard those names from his Grandmother’s mouth since they died numbered in single digits and yet she said them so easily to a stranger she’d met less than 24 hours ago. Sasori was above feeling slighted by her and had been since he was 8, he was mostly confused.
“Back there...You said that hard times breed hard men…they were a part of it, right?” Sakura’s voice was barely audible as she whispered in the dim glow beyond the shadows he rested in.
“They died when he was very young and I’m afraid I only made the loss worse. I did not tell Sasori they wouldn’t be coming home until long after he realized it for himself.” There was a weary sigh that followed the excuses he had heard before.
A sniffle sounded out, the noise enough to make him risk peering into the room oh-so-carefully. The two of them sat before the butsudan his grandmother had recently reset, images of deceased family members cluttering the altar. His parents, Rasa, Kurara, Yashamaru and Ebizō’s son who had lent his body to Sasori’s craft were laid among it.
From where he stood he had a view of Sakura’s face in profile, the bruises and the faint scuffs included. It was the tears that truly fascinated him.
“It must have been hard for him. Waiting each day thinking every sound of the door could have been them only to find that it wasn’t.” The tears slipped down the curve of her cheek and looked gold in the glow of the altar candles. “And it must have been hard for you too, knowing but not knowing how to tell him...not wanting it to be true.”
Sakura could cure a poison he spent years on, she could cry for dead strangers when he couldn’t spare a single drop for his own parents...She was all the things he could not be but complementary to him in nature. Her mind had to work like his own in some way to understand his poison so instantly. That feeling from before only seemed to swell the more he examined the facets of her and compared them to his own.
“You really are a good girl.” Chiyo laughed, but the sound was strained. “My mistakes are not relegated to Sasori but the other three as well. I sealed that beast into Gaara and in my guilt I left others to deal with the consequences.”
There was a thump and Sakura’s head was laid to rest between the pictures of his parents. “But...it’s not too late. You’re still alive...So, you can make up for it.” The words drifted out on half asleep sighs. “I’m not a good daughter.” She whined at random.
“Oh dear, I simply don’t believe it.” Chiyo said, patting her companion's head. It annoyed Sasori, how close they were in such a short time. “But if it's as you say, it's not too late as long as you--asleep already? I suppose I did give you too much. As for you, haven’t I told you how rude it is to eavesdrop, boy?”
“What exactly did you give her and why?” They both knew exactly how he felt about listening in on others.
“Don’t say it like I did it without her knowledge.” Which was something Sasori probably would have done. “She was sore from the battle--it's not easy allowing someone to use you as a puppet...at first at least. I overestimated how much she would need. Apparently super strength does not equate to super tolerance.”
Sasori made a noise of annoyance because he wouldn’t have made such a mistake. “She let you use her like that...how trusting.” To let someone she barely knew have that much power of her, he could never stand for it. Sakura put her life in another’s hands so easily for his tastes.
“Only for a time.” Chiyo fidgeted with the false arm she’d made for herself after Gaara in a Ichibi influenced tantrum had relegated her earthly one beyond repair. “I had a malfunction and she had to adapt on her own. It was as you said, she is an impressive girl.”
“Are you going to leave her there?” Sasori motioned towards the unconscious form, watching the way Sakura’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He’s not sure what to call the sudden change in his perspective when it came to her--respect surely, rarely felt admiration even. Most of the people he had ever liked were dead; That scrub of an idiot he’d been friendly with as a child, the Sandaime whose prowess he had respected, Monzaemon who had pioneered the methods of puppetry and the parents whom he had loved were among the few before her he had ever felt even remotely moved by.
“Well, I can hardly carry her myself.”
There was a time he would have counted the old woman before him but resentment had a way of eating away at whatever bond they used to have. It felt like he was always being tested by her in some way, as though she was suspicious of every move he made--which was probably for the best. Even now his grandmother was looking at him with inquisitive eyes as Sasori crossed the floorboards and pulled the girl into his arms. It was clear by the wide set of his grandmother’s eyes that it had not been the answer she expected.
Refusing to spare more words until his current task was handled with care, Sasori took to the stairs. Sakura wasn’t heavy, decently muscled for her size and profession but the majority of her strength came from actively manipulating chakra through muscle and limbs. When she was settled among the covers he took the time to truly study her face.
He could recall that as a genin she’d been cute in the way that most adolescents were designed to be so that their elders were less inclined to murder them when they became too annoying. Now, laying over the fish patterned quilt his grandmother and great uncle had stitched, Sakura was gangly, bruised and still growing into her bones.
She was pretty from an objective standpoint, in possession of a heart shaped face and symmetrical features. From the fan of her lashes to the bow of her lips and hidden in her cheekbones, it was clear that time would only be kind to her.
A feeling of anticipation welled within him, she’d become more beautiful, more radient than she currently was and what a thing that would be to see. “And what of me?” Sasori had spoken the words to himself in the dark and Sakura stirred, thin slivers of green peeking through her lashes.
“Hm?” She murmured.
Sasori was not used to soothing anyone, whether they were awake or half asleep but Sakura was easy to placate. The brush of his hand over her forehead and drowsy eyelids, hushing her as he recalled being done to him in some distant memory. It was easier than expected and she fell silent once more.
The more he thought the more he realized how still he has been. Sasori cannot remember the last time he had to actually try at anything. He’d spent a few years of trial and error, working out the kinks in his method of creating human puppets and during that same period he had seen, or assumed his poison to be perfected. Not much of note had been done since and time spent training unasked for students nor the running of a village were not an acceptable excuse. What he knew was that without adversity there could be no improvement.
“It just won’t do,” Sasori said to the sleeping girl. “For you to go on getting better while I remain as I am.” One either evolved or died and he had no desire to do the latter while Sakura was in the process of the former. He had no problem being bested, it was his own fault and it only served to prove how far she had come despite his own beliefs but that also did not mean he was going to let the current score remain forever unchecked.
With one last look at the slumbering girl, he rose and returned downstairs. “Well?” Sasori prompted, rolling his wrist impatiently. “Report.”
“Time has certainly done nothing to improve your manners.” His grandmother sniffed, sharp curiosity in her dark eyes. “What, exactly would you like to know?”
“Everything.” Sasori replied without hesitation. He was used to her regarding him with suspicion ever since he inadvertently helped an idiot murder theirself.
“Ah, of course. How silly of me at my age to forget such a thing.” The old woman croaked a brief laugh and began to recite the events following their departure, of how the girl sleeping in the spare room had risked her life like a fool for someone who had more years behind her than ahead of her not once, but repeatedly. The rogue they had fought made away with quite a bit of Sasori’s poison and Sakura’s forethought in preparing multiple antidotes and her quick uptake on their opponents movements pushed them towards a victory. His grandmother might have landed the killing blow but none of it would have been possible without Sakura.
“That slug-woman outdid herself in picking an apprentice. The power in her blows...for a moment I thought the entire cavern would cave in on us, but every hit she made was precisely where it needed to be.” It was perhaps the nicest thing Chiyo had ever said about Tsunade.
Hours before his grandmother would have fulminated about how disgraceful it was that Suna had to rely on Konohagakure for anything. “You like her.” It wasn’t all that surprising given how similar he was to her.
“Yes, she’s brilliant, sincere and tenacious. Admirable qualities in anyone and that mind of hers…I never thought I’d say it but Suna could learn a few things from Konoha.” There was a pause as she thought something over and then the tea she had been sipping was set back on the table. “Chikamatsu’s Ten are in awful condition though. It may take quite some time to repair them, some may never perform as well as they once did...but If you have the time, perhaps you would like to have a look at them?”
Sasori supposed it was her attempt at a peace offering, he had never been allowed to see them with his own eyes before and Chiyo knew how much he admired the man who created The Ten and that he could hardly stand for such a legacy to be left in disrepair. The tilt of his head was the only affirmation he would give on the subject.
Sakura’s team and the one that had attended them were set to leave in the morning. He lacked the well of knowledge to give name to the feeling constricting his chest at the thought but inadvertently his eyes made their way to the pictures at the altar. It was a forgone conclusion that she would have to leave but it bothered him not knowing when he would see her again especially when Sasori took into account that to his direct knowledge she had a habit of risking her life for other people on an almost annual basis.
No, Sasori didn’t want her to go far from his sight at all but he couldn’t exactly force her to stay...but he could set the board in his favor. There is no expectation of immediate payoff, he is setting things up for the long haul, certain that it will pay dividends in the future--all he has to do is plant and water the seeds accordingly. He was determined that at some point their paths should and would cross on a more extended basis, and that when they did he would have all the time he needed. What, exactly that entailed he wasn’t completely sure of yet.
By morning while the rest of them were saying their goodbyes he already had a proposal drafted and sent to Tsunade, their villages were allies and if one were improved the other would naturally benefit. Konoha was arguably better at preserving life, a fact that the current Hokage loved to boast and he made sure to play on her pride when requesting that she lend Suna the apprentice that had made such an impression on them.
The request had been open ended and so had been the reply, Tsunade had written that it was under consideration until she felt the timing was appropriate and then followed it up with a rather smug postscript about how she had told him so, to which he had rolled his eyes upon reading. A week or two after her departure the first of the letters Sakura would send his grandmother arrived--it’d been held and brought to him by the mail staff because it was seen as suspicious contact between two villagers of once opposed factions.
Sasori supposed he should thank the head of the mail department-- the man was rather old and prejudiced when it came to Konoha but he had tipped him off to a valuable source of information. Most of what Sakura wrote about had very little to do with Shinobi life, she wrote about plants and books that she had read.
The letters came about once a week, circumstances willing and they did very little to sate his curiosity but they were at least something.
Antics and anecdotes about the people in her life were a recurring theme, such as an artist named Sai that had recently been placed on her team. Apparently the boy had called her a hag and he’d snorted after reading it and how she had only retaliated to the rude meeting after he’d insulted that house-arrested Uchiha. Sakura never seemed quick to anger when insults were placed against her but when those around her became the target her hands tended to do the talking.
Still, she wrote about how she worried that she was selfish when it couldn’t be further from the truth in his experience. The selfish did not cry for strangers or risk their lives for others, nor did they spend their time trying to connect with and help an emotionally repressed artist who insisted on calling them ugly, or hag. Sasori was quite sure there was something wrong with the addition’s eyes, or brain but there was a sense of familiarity about how she described the ink-artist.
“Is there a reason you’ve been confiscating my mail?” Chiyo had asked a few months after the first letter had come. Sasori didn’t even look up, still in the process of rethreading a length of chain through one of Chikamatsu’s puppets, it was probably the most time he’d spent in her company in years.
“The mail department keeps sending it to my desk.” Which was true. “That old man seems to think you’re plotting something with Konaha, he’s clearly more paranoid than you.” Also true. The part that he didn’t mention was that he didn’t have to read those letters when he knew the concerns were completely false.
There was a faint narrowing of her baggy eyes but Chiyo said nothing more as she handed over an awl. The letters continued as they always had and if his grandmother had told Sakura there was a 3rd party reading their correspondents her writing gave no indication of it considering he continued to be referred to as Chiyo’s mop-headed grandson.
Around two years after that Team 7 consisting of Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto, and the newest member Sai were sent on a mission that had them searching for some expatriate that Orochimaru was hungry to get his hands on. Sasori may have been responsible for Konoha getting wind of that, but he had not expected to hear various news reports about how Sakura had been separated and cornered by part of the force Orochimaru had sent out.
By all accounts it had been bloody on both sides, she had been severely outnumbered and in her own words if it were not for the fact that Sakura had recently presented the byakugō she wouldn’t have made it out alive.
“One of them cut me from shoulder to hip, I couldn’t get a great view but I’m pretty sure I was only still attached by a small piece of skin. I never used it before but feeling myself get sucked back together by Creation Rebirth was...interesting. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned by how much using it might have cut my lifespan but immediate survival versus long term…Well, you know.” Sakura had written, adding that she had never been more frightened of losing her life, not even when she’d been in that cavern with his grandmother; young, inexperienced and outclassed. “I wasn’t alone then...I had someone to worry about and someone to worry about me.” It was said as an explanation and it only served to prove his hypothesis that she was a person motivated not by herself but by others.
It was because Sasori had directed the tip off that she had even been there and in retrospect he should have known anything to do with Orochimaru and Team 7 was bound to have their hands in it...they had a vendetta to settle. He very well could have been responsible for her untimely demise by not waiting to provide more information.
That notion left him with an unpleasant aftertaste as he stared down at the piece of pork pinched between his chopsticks. It was not his job to be concerned about protecting her, or keeping her alive, not when he was neither being paid to do so or tasked with it by some higher authority. Sasori was the higher authority. Despite knowing since the last time he had seen her that an early death was not something he wanted for Sakura he had yet to figure out where he was meant to place her in the scheme of things.
“So...What's it like being in love?” Kankurō had asked from the other side of the table, painted face making his grin seem almost malicious.
It was one of those rare occasions that Sasori had deigned to eat with his family rather than turning and walking out the door when he caught them in his house setting up for dinner. His own thoughts took precedence over a pointless battle. Sitting with them did not mean he had to engage with them.
“Shut up.” Temari sneered, chopsticks fisted in her hand like a downward facing blade. The relationship between her and that Nara boy had recently taken on new depths despite the distance they were often subjected to as she traveled back and forth as an ambassador and Kankurō made it a point to tease her mercilessly after years of her denying any such possibility.
The skin between Gaara’s nonexistent brows wrinkled. “What is it like?” Love may have been written on his forehead but he didn’t understand the many nuances it came with. He understood familial love, though the beginning of his life had been rather lacking in it and he understood platonic bonds but the romantic sort was just beyond him.
Temari’s lips parted and moved soundlessly, struggling to form words. She blew Kankurō off because he’d been teasing her, she couldn’t blow off a genuine question from her stunted little brother. “It's complicated.” She sighed, fist relinquishing their stranglehold on her eating implements. “And it’s also not...When you’re not with them, you want to be. Your thoughts are always on them, you think about things that they would say if they were with you...They fill up the pieces of you that are missing without even trying.”
Gaara only seemed more confused by the explanation. “I feel that way about Naruto.”
“Yea, but do you think Naruto is cute?” Temari arched a brow.
“No.” Was said after a moment of consideration.
Temari’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter. “I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense until you’ve felt it for yourself.”
The meat had slid from Sasori’s hold, falling back onto his plate in a display of less than perfect etiquette. He worried, he wanted to be with her, he certainly thought about her more frequently than he should and he’d long since acknowledged that Sakura was capable of the things he was not, that she had the pieces he lacked. There was a snap and three pairs of eyes drifted in his direction.
“You uh...broke your chopsticks.” Kankurō gulped.
Sasori didn’t say anything but the look he gave was enough to make the hardiest of shrubs clinging to life out in the desert wither.
Regardless of how complementary he and Sakura were it was ridiculous to fall for a person he only knew from brief interactions and letters that weren’t even addressed to him, no matter how highly he regarded her. It didn’t matter if they read the same books and that they liked the same colors, or if the rambling he despised in any other person entertained him coming from her. Maybe he was enthralled about her theories regarding infectious diseases and the fact that she, at least in her letters, was rather vicious when it came to mocking council members in her own village--he’d thought her too straight-laced and loyal for such a thing.
It did not have to mean anything that he’d sought her out on the rare occasions he found himself in Konoha or that his eyes were intrinsically attracted to a particular shade of pink and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything that he subtly had his contacts keep him apprised of Sakura’s whereabouts.
Refusing to believe that it might have been true he abruptly stopped reading the letters. For a month or two and then in the middle of a freshly arrived note he had to stop, feeling as though he had missed something important in the letter preceding it. Which was how Temari found him rifling through the box in which Chiyo saved every single correspondence she received from Sakura.
“What are you doing?” The blonde, one arm hiding the scroll she’d pilfered behind her back, eyebrows arched a mile high.
“I could ask you the same thing but I won't,” Sasori replied without a glance. “ If you don’t ask any more, I don’t tell.” And that was that. There was a faint narrowing of her teal eyes at him as they flicked from the label of the box and back to his face but Temari said no more and simply backed out of the room mumbling under her breath.
Maybe Sasori did love Sakura, maybe it was simple, unstated curiosity as he waited for his long term plan to come to fruition but whatever it was he wasn’t willing to give up the small connection he did have to her even if it was a secondhand one.
Abdicating once Gaara reached an acceptable age had been his plan from the start, while he might have enjoyed the control being Kazekage afforded Sasori liked to maneuver his power plays in the dark with as few eyes on him as possible. They were more than a few years into their alliance with Konoha and he felt it was only appropriate to invite Tsunade to the next Kazekage’s inauguration. He had subtly suggested she ought to bring those who had built a rapport with Suna as a show of their strong bond and was pleased to see Sakura’s name on the list of those who would be traveling with her.
He knew the moment the retinue Sakura was with had stepped into the village and though Gaara had yet to officially take up the mantle all the duties had been passed over to him, leaving Sasori with ample free time. It wasn’t difficult to stage what seemed like a perfectly natural run in as he avoided the Tsuchikage’s extremely annoying pupil that had the gall to call himself an artist.
Naruto was extremely loud upon meeting Gaara, making plans to go out for a meal later which was how Sasori knew the best place to lay in wait.
Standing at the crossroad that intersected the area they would be meeting in, he caught a glimpse of Sakura for the first time in a year as she turned a corner and stepped right into her path. It was like a tension he hadn’t known he was carrying gave way. Taller, with a slimmer face and fuller hips, she had grown into her bones and found a particular fondness for boots. Facing her made it clear he’d been avoiding the truth. “Ah,” Sasori finally pinpointed one of the things that was so intriguing about her. “ It seems like every time we meet you’re different but exactly the same.” It was her eyes. They were the same as the first time he saw her and every time after; verdant green and vivacious.
“And you haven’t changed since the day I met you .” Sakura replied dryly, hands hitching their way to her hips. Within her letters she called him inscrutable and she still gazed at him in wary confusion.
Sasori never considered himself particularly vain, it was simply a matter of taking care of the assets he had in order to make them last. He was pleased she had noticed. “Oh, Darling Girl you certainly do know how to compliment a man.” Sakura was close enough to touch after so long. The slide of his palm against the curve of her cheek was rewarded by a burst of red blooming across her skin. “I used to think that true beauty only existed in things that were everlasting and unchanged by time, but I’m finding more and more that some things are...transcendent .” She may have grown and changed in some ways but she was in possession of certain immutable qualities that made her timeless in his eyes.
The mark at the center of her forehead was even more proof of how far Sasori knew she had come from the scrap he’d rolled his eyes at so long ago. His thumb traced a path along her cheek and over her forehead, finding no difference in texture between her skin and the byakugō. “You really are something to behold. It’s a shame you’re wasted where you are.” Sakura was looking at him, wide eyed and startled--lips parted as she no doubt puzzled over his words.
In her letters she was focused on her work, bored and unchallenged when she wasn’t being stymied for advancement at the hospital due to her so called inexperience. Sakura didn’t write about romantic entanglements unless it was to say that she wasn’t interested in them but standing there flushing as she gazed up at him, Sasori wondered if it was simply that she hadn’t been pursued by the right sort of man.
That loud-mouth blonde called her name and Sakura’s head turned from him.
“You should consider a longer visit to Suna sometime.” Sasori had sighed, stepping away from her reluctantly. “It could be...mutually beneficial.” He knew what he wanted and now that Gaara would be taking over most of the burden that came with leading he'd have more leeway to do as he pleased.
Later, Sasori would catch a glimpse of her in the banquet hall, corralling Naruto like he was a wayward sheep from some argument he was about to have about peace and the futility of hatred in front of the fire Daimyo. Looking exhausted and annoyed as she passed him over to the care of the ink painter she talked about in her letters. He left his own seat, taking his cup along with him to follow her, ignoring the eyes at his back.
Sakura turned, sensing someone at her back and muffled a squeak when she caught sight of him. “Kaze-Sasori...Sama?” she struggled over the correct way to call him.
“Sasori.” He preferred to hear his name from her without any honorifics, unbothered by how others would take it. Sasori gripped her wrist and pressed the cup to her hand. “Drink it before you dehydrate.” Green eyes darted from the vessel and back to his face, lips pursued as she considered the dangers. “Little girl, you’re insulting my intelligence, I wouldn’t poison you from the cup I’m holding in front of an entire delegation of Shinobi.” Or at all but he took a sip to prove his words.
“That is a good point.” Sakura mumbled and accepted the cup, sniffing at the contents before making the decision that she would in fact trust him. There was a clamor from across the room Naruto and the Tsuchikage’s attendant Deidara were forehead to forehead one looking amused and the other about to explode. “Shit.” She half-choked and fumbled as she dashed off, cup still in hand.
Kankurō and Temari were sitting slack-jawed at the table when he returned in an abysmal display of ill manners and poor emotional restraint.
“I-i...thought Obaachan was senile when she said you liked her!” Temari mumbled, palms pressed against her forehead as though she were fighting through an existential crisis.
“And I thought you were just like...plotting Sakura’s downfall when Temari said you were stealing letters.”
“It's not stealing if I didn't take them.” Sasori corrected. “I merely read them and put them back.”
Kankurō gasped, slapping his hands on the table loud enough to draw attention to himself. “You're not even denying it!”
“Why would I?” He’d already done that and it had been a pointless waste of time.
The two siblings looked at one another. “You know what this means right?” Kankurō asked with a sigh.
“We were wrong and he actually is a human being?” Temari grimaced, pushing her plate away.
“Well yes that and we have to make sure they hook up.” The middle child explained and shushed Temari’s incoming complaint. “No, think about it; Do you want to deal with a Sasori that is more miserable and mean then usual? Think about our self preservation here, Sis.”
Sasori, who had only been half listening to the prattling as he watched Sakura pry both blondes away from one another, smirked. “I don’t find that I am in need of your help but it is heartening to see that the two of you have some sense. I’m glad I taught it to you.”
“I think we’ll all find that this is easier said than done.” Temari sneered in perfect imitation of her former Kage.
Minor meetings and parting followed, subtle hints were dropped by all around that Sakura should come for a tenure to Suna by a multitude of sources and Tsunade seemed close to making a commitment but then fell through. “Sakura just started dating.” Temari had explained with a shrug after returning from a trip. “I mean it hasn’t been explicitly said but the signs are there. I don’t think she’s keen to upheave it after Sakura’s been so focused on work all these years.” She squinted. “Why aren’t you bothered?”
He certainly wasn’t pleased reading her letters and realizing she was seeing someone--a person who wasn’t at all hard to figure out given the not-so-subtle clues Sakura left behind. It was someone she had known forever, someone she had a crush on as a girl, and someone on her team. It wasn’t the artist, it wasn’t the blonde and he was positive Kakashi was not an option. “It won’t last.” Sasori shrugged, centering the eye of his newest creation.
“How do you know?”
There had been so many ways to answer that. “It took him 11 years to notice Sakura and according to her, he doesn’t want his family to know. Does that sound like a good foundation for a long term relationship?” He hadn’t hidden how he felt from his family and they were almost insufferable. “And the two of them had nothing in common.” Sasori was almost positive most of their conversations revolved around Naruto and that Sakura did most of the talking.
Doubt was clear as day all over Temari’s face. “What if it goes on longer than you think?” It probably surprised her how patient he was being but laying in wait was not the same as standing still. He had plans and if he had to move to Konoha to fulfill them he would.
“It wont.” It was fine, even if he itched at the thought of someone else putting their hands or worse all over her. Letting Sakura learn and live on her own terms was what had shaped her into someone he coveted, he couldn’t have what he wanted by crushing it in his grip. If he wanted her subtle was the best way to be. In the meantime Sasori continued chipping away at Tsunade in the correspondences they kept, He wrote because she was gatekeeping him from what he wanted and because she had information...it helped that it drove his grandmother into fits.
He never begged, simply wrote about how it would benefit all parties involved.
Another two years of waiting and the reward for his efforts was ready to be reaped. He’d been staring down at an enclosed dish full of flesh eating bacteria as Deidara prattled on about something he was completely uninterested in, debating the merits of testing the new strain on a living subject when a piece of paper fluttered down from the ceiling.
“What's that?” The iwa-nin wondered, pausing in the middle of his complaint about how static and un-dynamic Sasori’s work was.
Reading over the few scant lines he recognized as Tsunade’s handwriting, Sasori began to laugh. The noise startled Deidara enough that he visibly shuddered in the dim lighting.
“What mortal enemy did you kill?” Deidara asked, picking up the letter Sasori had left out. “Who's coming and what are they wishing you luck for...?”
“My future wife.” Sasori, finding himself in a gregarious mood, placed the dish in a bin to be incinerated.
Deidara grew even paler at the words. “What was that now?”
He did not repeat himself.
There was a shuffle of papers as Sakura’s head nuzzled deeper into her arms and it tore him from the memories. “Enough of that.” Sasori said and coiled pink tresses about his finger, giving a few gentle tugs to rouse her.
“Hakka...did you bring more coffee?” She slurred in response, head popping off the desk with half open eyes.
The sudden rising brushed her forehead against his jaw. “Wrong person, do I look like a nervous, star-struck wreck?” Sasori snorted. He might have been in awe of Sakura, but at least he could string sentences together. “Sakura…” he cooed, allowing her to sleepily press her cheek against his neck, amused to find that she was sniffing him. “You have been so graciously provided a bed at my home. Be a dear and use it rather than your desk. I’m positive it's more comfortable.”
Curiously, using Sakura’s name made her stiffen against him, as though she were standing to attention. “Sasori,” She said, and he could practically hear her swallowing. “What are you doing here?” her seat wheeled away, creating distance as she realized how close they had been and what she’d been doing. ‘Please don’t notice that I was smelling you.’ she pushed some papers around on her desk, looking anywhere but at him.
“Bringing you dinner.” Sasori smirked, leaning closer. “Little girl...did I smell nice?”
There was a squeaking noise as she strangled a fistful of paper. “Wait, what?”
Tapping a finger at the boxes he’d brought along Sasori not-so-innocently repeated himself. “I asked if it smelled nice…”
“Oh, uh...yes.” The paper she’d been holding was being smoothed out but there was nothing to be done about the crinkles scattered about its surface. “You didn’t have to bring it though.” The statement didn’t stop Sakura’s mouth from watering when he began to pull the lids off.
“You made me wait long enough.” Sasori replied poignantly, tapping a carved pair of chopsticks into her hands.