To start with, I don't own any of the lovely characters used (and abused, respectively) in this fanfiction. Why did I start Yaoi con with a straight paring you ask? I don't know- it doesn't make sense to me either. I just started writing, so here it is. This is un-beta'd work so I take full responsibility for my failings, and will be happy to take criticism until I'v seen AccA and AccB about it. In the mean time, I posted the raw version. So I present, with much trepidation, The Yaoi Con Submission for Sasamori written by yours truly:
The Hatter Maddox.
Enjoy!
Prologue
Sasori forced his eyes opened- they were far heavier than he remembered them being. The light blinded him, so he blinked as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.
He was lying on the ground, arms straight at his sides like a doll that had been carefully positioned. Then he realized something he hadn't been expecting- he could feel for the first time since he turned his body into a war machine. He could feel his Akatsuki ring, warm on his finger and the gritty dirt of the packed-earth floor beneath his hands. He could feel the hot sun beating down on him and the brush of cloth on his skin. He could feel his own heart beat, pumping blood through his veins and he could breathe, something he wasn't used to.
He held his breath, watching interestedly as stars burst before his eyes and his chest tightened. When the tightening turned to fierce aching he gasped sharply, unaccustomed to the sensation of pain.
He would have to get used to breathing then. In spite of that, in general, he found he liked it, being able to feel again.
So this is the after-life. I guess there really isn't a hell.
He tried to sit up, but was forced to stop- his head began to spin the minute he lifted it. Discouraged by an intense wave of dizziness, he laid back down and stared at the sky. Only a small circle was visible, framed by the tops of trees. Within the ring of tree-tops was a swathe of deep blue sky and a golden sun that beat down as ribbons of cloud raced past.
He lie there staring up as the clouds streamed by and sweat began to bead on his skin, bringing back an onslaught of old memories. Memories from before Akatsuki, before his experiments, before the art and before his parents' deaths.
Running through the village in summer with his mother in tow, laughing as she chased after him. Visiting Granny Chiyo with his father. Mastering his first puppet under his father's watchful eye- a tiny artist's figurine made of simply-carved wooden pieces on a flexible wire frame, he had been enthralled by its graceful movements, perfectly coordinated to his finger motions. Within a week he could effortlessly guide the tiny doll through intricate dances and battle patterns. He had cried when it broke. Tears. Tears were one of his rarest memories- he hadn't cried since his mother died when he was seven.
Now, all that emotion, all that anger seemed so far away. A drop of sweat rolled into his eye, making him blink. He was hot in his Akatsuki cloak- though the light cotton breathed well, the black also captured far too much of the sun's heat. After a few failed attempts at standing, he managed to sit up then crawl to a nearby tree.
He fell against it, letting his back lean on the rough, cool bark. He looked out across the clearing, a small empty stretch of packed dirt surrounded on all sided by tall trees. It was warm, but in the dappled shade of the tree with a cool breeze brushing his face and the back of his neck, Sasori was content.
It wasn't long before he fell asleep, his cloak billowing in the wind.