Puppet

Sometimes, she wondered why she even bothered resisting. She figured that it was probably a few years before she finally gave up resisting all the time—which only resulted in more pain and immobilization and the horrible realization that she was dead.

And he always enjoyed reminding her that fact.

She hated him for that fact, she always lashed out, with cutting remarks and biting retorts but he merely brushed it off and sealed her back. But at times, he'd amuse himself by playing with her, pulling her strings like the puppermaster he is.

Like he was, she thought viciously, bitterly, both emotions she was unable to discern properly.

On one hand, she should be rejoicing the fact that her puppetmaster was dead, gone and she was finally free. But the price for freedom was death. With him gone, it wouldn't take long for her to die anyway; already she could feel her breath leaving her non-existent lungs.

She glanced up, weakly, unblinking, having lost the ability to do so long ago when she first died.

"She's alive..." the pink-haired girl murmured in awe. "But aren't puppets supposed to be..."

"Not necessarily. A puppetmaster as skilled as Sasori must have been able to turn a living human into a living puppet. I was the one who taught him after all, implanted into his head of such a concept," a bitter voice interjected sourly. Pity laced the tone and shone in the old hag's eyes when she gazed down at the broken puppet. "It was my fault that such a fate fell on the girl."

The broken puppet gazed back with an equally blank gaze. Don't pity me, she wanted to scream, unwilling to give up the last of her pride. She wanted nothing more to punch them, scream in their faces and hurl cusses at them till she was out of breath. Why, she wondered, did she feel such resentment at the defeat?

Finally, what she wanted had happened: Sasori of the Red Sand had fallen! At the hands of his grandmother and a little girl, no less; she should be laughing like crazy now but all she could feel was the boiling resentment. Maybe it was because she had a hand in losing too, maybe she was losing it, maybe it was because she was so close to death, or maybe, just maybe, she didn't want him to die so soon.

Where was he anyway? She was surprised he didn't counterattack, because if he didn't fight back after her loss, it meant that he was truly gone.

And what was she supposed to do? Lie there and wait for another puppetmaster to come and take possession of her? To be break apart and used as an experiment. The living dead.

Her mouth dropped open, moving unnaturally and woodenly. "K...kill... me..."

"What did she say?" The annoying pink-thing asked, approaching cautiously.

Frustrated, the puppet's head lolled to the side, unwillingly, she saw Sasori's broken form, lying in a heap. She felt torn between screaming and laughing. Her fingers twitched but she was unable to move. Her mouth snapped shut again.

"I think she wants to get closer." A male voice suggested in a lazy drawl.

"To the man who murdered her and turned her into... into this? This isn't called living!"

"Don't underestimate a bond shared between a puppet and its master. One must pour their heart and soul into creating this art. Sasori, as misguided as he was, was devoted when he made her. It's almost a pity to destroy her. She must have been what Sasori had intended to call eternal beauty of his art."

Shut up, she thought but she couldn't voice it. "Kill..." she repeated in a whisper.

Murmurs and echoes burst out through the unknown ninjas as they once again surround the broken puppet. Familiar strings—but the chakra was different, not Sasori's serene and ambitious and adoration when he controlled any one of his puppets—latched onto the seals on her. She jerked to her feet, hovering towards Sasori; a grimace wanted to work its way up but her wooden face wouldn't allow it of course.

Whoever was manipulating her would've gotten an earful had her voicebox not been so terribly damaged, she thought bitterly as her wooden hand wound itself around Sasori's equally wooden ones. She felt no sensation when she touched him. Soon, she'd join him anyway, why lament?

"D..amn...you..." she rasped, convulsing as someone approached her, slowly peeling the seals that had kept her as the living dead. "...even in death... you'll... still... pulled me with you."

"But in the end you still cared for him, didn't you?" The little girl the old hag called Sakura interjected again, putting words in the puppet's mouth.

"I hated him." This, the puppet could draw out without pause but it lacked the usual vehemence. "But ... I ... couldn't seem to... let him go... I really... am a puppet... so useless..."

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Sakura waited for more, sensing the unfinished sentence but no sound came. She blinked, realizing that Neji had removed all the seals and the puppet was now as dead as her owner. She glanced down at the puppet again as she made to leave, following her friends. She hesitated, throwing one last glance at the puppet and the puppetmaster.

Their face, even though broken and lifeless, were serene. If Sakura hadn't known any better, she would've said they were happy.

"What you really wanted to say, Puppet-san... is that you loved him despite what he did to you, right?"

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Author's Note: Random SasorixOC oneshot, though it's vague. Still, it's nice to hear your thoughts about this; review!