Chapter One

Hello readers, this is my first story and I hope you all like it. On the side I wanted to tell you that this story takes place before Sasori joins the Akatsuki, and before he turns himself into a puppet. In fact, this is several years before Naruto's generation. That's not to say he's not the same impatient, snarky puppeteer. This story is told by your perspective, if you were the main character.

Light flooded into the small apartment bedroom, as night transitioned into morning. It wasn't the most lavish apartments in town. In fact, it could be considered a down right shit hole. The vintage flowered wallpaper was cracked and peeling from age, the windows were permanently smudged with unknown gunk and horrors, and there were only three rooms. Included was a small bathroom with a mirror above the sink which, was cracked straight down the middle. There was a room just big enough for a single bed and nightstand (luckily there was a shoebox of a closet to hold clothes, as fitting a dresser in there was out of the question). The largest room, which included the kitchen, was just big enough to hold a couch, coffee table, and an entertainment center to carry the weight of a television from the 1950's. It had rabbit ears and everything.

True it was more than a modest way of life, but the young woman that called this place "home" was not planning on staying long. Her work took her all over the place, mostly small towns. But it wasn't a small town she was in this time. No, this time she was in one of the largest villages there is. Today her job took her to the very outskirts of the Sand Village. Her name was Artey, and no, she was no ninja as most people would choose as their profession, at least not anymore. Many years ago, a training accident left her with permanent nerve damage in her right shoulder, forcing her to quit. Nowadays she spent most of her time as a finance advisor and cartographer. Exciting, huh? Mostly she got sponsored by big businesses to map out new locations for offices and facilities.

You got out of your creaky, brass bed, stretched, and yawned. A disgusted look befell you when you tasted the inside of your mouth. "Bleh… morning breath." you sighed and shuffled slowly to the bathroom to brush your teeth and sandy brown hair. Your golden-brown eyes sparkled in the cracked mirror as you turned some cold water on. It got extremely hot last night under the flannel blankets, and you were ready for a cooling off.

Not having time for a full shower this morning, you dressed into your clothes after a quick face scrub. They were, like the rest of your current dwelling, old and drab. A grey tank top, dark green cargo pants, and some old brown combat boots were on today's outfit menu.

Today you were to meet a very powerful client, the CEO of a famous line of weaponry to discuss the best possible locations for a new building. His company specialized in experimental weapons, sometimes called "Designer Weapons." They were the type of weapons only the richest could afford. He was located at the edge of the Sand Village, but not the edge you were on. You were to travel all the way to the other end of the village. It would be at least a few hours walk.

Since it was so long you decided to pack a bottle of water and some apples into a backpack along with some money and newsprint paper. You also clipped a switchblade to your belt loop in case of trouble. One can never be too safe when wandering the streets.

You walked out of your quaint little room and locked the door behind you. Though, you may as well have left in unlocked. Not like there was anything worth stealing in there. You shrugged off the thought and walked along a corridor that led outside and into the bright morning sky. By your watch it was already nine, and your appointment was at twelve. Looks like you were going to have to bust your hump if you wanted to make it on time.

"God damn, it's only been 45 minutes since I left, and already this heat is getting to me. I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a quick break." You stopped at a corner of an alley way to catch your breath. This looked like a good spot to rest. The alley offered shade, but it was still filled with people and vendors, so it was less likely for you to get mugged. You sat down and leaned against wall, pulling out your bottle of water and took a long, greedy gulp from it, but managed to stop yourself, since you only had the one. After putting the bottle away, you couldn't help but to roll your injured shoulder in an attempt to "pop" it. Although it no longer hurt, it still got stiff very easily.

After managing to get a very satisfying loose feeling in your shoulder, you got up and began walking again, only to stop several feet later. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a street vendor. He was thin, short, and balding, eyes sunken in no doubt from harsh living. Even though the salesman was less than appealing, the particular item on his table was very attractive. It was possibly the only beautiful thing in this wasteland of a village. You stepped closer to the vendor table to examine it closer. The handle was pure, white ivory. The pointy tip of it was lovely silver, shining in the shaft of light that came down into the alley. It came complete with the smoothest charcoal stick possible. The compass was perfect. No doubt much prettier than your old, outdated compass. The splintering thing was made of birch wood, and dragged the charcoal sluggishly across paper.

The vendor caught you eyeing the thing and smiled devilishly. "Like what you see, miss?" You knew that smile from shopping experience. This guy was going to milk you for all you had. But you knew how to handle that.

"Well maybe I do, but that depends on the price and how much I'm willing to pay." You crossed your arms and gave him a condescending look as you stared down at him, your mouth thinning to a line. Being taller and more intimidating would be an advantage to the haggle.

"Ah, well for a pretty young thing like you… 150 dollars." He rubbed his hands like a fly. Obviously he was going to be a tough nut to crack. You'd only brought 50 dollars, and planned to use it for emergencies. Could needing a new compass be considered an emergency? You put your hand into a pocket and nonchalantly snapped the wooden one. "Oops," you thought. Guess it is now.

"I'll give you twenty." The man looked like you'd just slapped him. "Twenty? For twenty dollars, I'd let you touch it! How about one hundred dollars?" He was already getting impatient; you'd need to hurry this along. "How about thirty-five?" You never broke your harsh gaze from him. "How about one hundred or leave?" He glared at you angrily. Apparently you were no longer a "pretty young thing" like before. Luckily you knew just what to do. You broke you gaze, but still kept your arms crossed, and looked down.

You look at his table. You needed… something. Something as an exchange. You saw a tiny, wooden puppet. It was at least 50 years old and about the size of your hand. Its legs and arms were segmented for movement. Its head had a rectangular cut in it, suggesting that its mouth opened. Something about it was off though… that was it! No strings! Of course; it was a ninja's puppet, therefore strings were formed by chakra. You didn't have any need for it, but it was clear that neither did this guy. The puppet had ten different price tags on it, all of them slashed out and re-priced in descending order. He was desperate to get rid of it. Even though it was small, it was still clogging up a large chunk of his table, which also happened to be small.

You picked it up. "What if I gave you 40, and take this old thing off your hands." He eyed you up and down, contemplating his next move. "Make it 60, and it's a deal."

You looked at him, breaking your harsh glare for a split second. Just ten dollars off, and it's yours. "How about 50 and I'll even throw in some free finance advice?" He rolled his eyes at you. "What could you possibly do to help? I know all there is." Smirking slightly at his silly question, you pulled out a map from your backpack.

"Look." You pointed at the map. "You're right here, in a dark, dusty alley." He cut you off in a snappy voice. "There's shade here. In this town, the more shade there is the more costumers you'll get." You allowed his rude interruption slide and continued. "Yes, but it also means shady characters will be coming in, a possible danger for someone with such fine wares as yours." You threw in that extra complement to sway him. "Also, what kind of costumers could you possibly get around here? Not enough with big money, that's for sure." He was still holding his head high from your previous compliment. "What if I told you that I knew of a few places that were not only shaded, but safe and filled with top-buying costumers as well?"

He nodded his head with a slight smile on his face. "Very well. Show me where, and the compass is all yours, young lady." Suddenly you're a nice young lady again? Your plan worked.

After a solid 30 minutes pointing out the best possible areas for the vendor, he finally decided on a spot. Out of the dirty alley way, and onto the walkway underneath the awning of a senior center. For one, he looked less suspicious when he was out in the open, thus more approachable. Second, seniors were much less likely to steal his merchandise than a youngster in the alley way, as well as easier to con into spending bug bucks (distasteful though it may be).

He graciously thanked you, and waved as you walked away with your gorgeous new compass in hand. As for the puppet, you shoved it into your backpack. What you were going to do with it was beyond you.