He didn't know why, but Itachi felt himself drawn to the strange man's room― if one could really call Akasuna no Sasori a man, he was a giant scorpion thing, one that walked around swiftly and never made a sound.

Although Itachi knew that that was a mask. It wasn't hard to tell― not with his abilities at least, he had a feeling that barely anyone else knew except perhaps for Pain and Konnan. The Akasuna no Sasori that everyone, including his own partner, knew was a mask.

His body had never been found, most likely scavenged by the Puppet Corps of Sunagakure. Itachi didn't care. He'd slaughtered his own comrades for the greater good, he'd watched hundreds of people die, he knew that Sasori was nothing but a crazed man a mad artist bent on his ridiculous pathetic eternity

and yet, Itachi was still thinking of him. He still found himself drawn, as though this place this outpost this room was some sort of magnet and he was a man made of steel and Sasori was somehow his Kryptonite. He laughed an ugly laugh. That bastard would probably enjoy staying alive in the memories of his peers.

Itachi remembered the few interactions he'd had with the puppetmaster. He'd given him medication for his eyes, to slow down the degeneration. Itachi hadn't know he was a medic― although it made sense, he must have had extensive knowledge of anatomy to build his puppets out of human beings. It was sick, really.

But who was he to talk?

He frowned, and exited the building, slamming the door behind him as he left. The last thing he needed was yet another ghost haunting him.

A/N: As much as I hate making American pop culture reference in something so. . Not Western as Naruto, I simply couldn't resist the Superman reference. You'll have to forgive me.