This is a roleplay that my partner so graciously permitted me to post up. Give her some lovin' if you like what you see here—I only did half of the work, after all.
Lightning Ougi: Gaara
NightmareTears: Sasori
Any other characters will be listed as we go.
Disclaimer: If Naruto (and all of its characters) were mine, Sasori would be alive and Gaara would be his boy-toy. As this is obviously not the case, Naruto is obviously not mine. That be all.
xXxXx
If Gaara had not believed he was benefiting his village, he would have never submitted himself to this. Endless tedium - in the paperwork, in the talks with the old men...He spent most of his day in an office talking down propositions with various nobodies, the rest of his time signing papers and debating with the council of elders. He watched over his siblings, giving them missions he almost envied them for. The only power he really had was that of his abilities, which (of course) he never got to use anymore. Pent up, unused chakra fizzled out and caused him even more agitation.
But the night...the night was still his.
During the day it would be unseemly for him to just wander off on his own, but when the moon was visible, he could sneak off to think.
After he did his nightly rounds of checking up on his...'precious' people (his sister was away, which caused him to be a bit uneasy, but his brother and Baki were just getting to bed, and Matsuri was already comfortably asleep, surrounded by her collection of stuffed animals) he departed through one of the gates in the great stone walls that his father had made for the village so long ago.
The sand was still for the night, bleached into a white that made ghostly shapes on the horizon once stirred by wind.
The area he approached was covered by even more ghoulish shapes. They looked slightly like birds, stark white columns of stone with larger heads capping them. Carved by the wind famous in the country, they were famous landmarks that were of gold and pinkish hues in the day.
The sand thinned out near the stone formations, but he walked near them anyways, contemplating what the shapes could be, and how everything lost its color in the moonlight.
He was far away from his tether and bonds as Kazekage, even though he was less than a mile away from the village.
He was also not the only one out on the desert that night.
The obscure, alien shapes that rose from the otherwise empty wasteland of the Wind Country held Sasori in the thrall of their ancient beauty, speaking to him of centuries of being carved by the unfathomably skilled hands of the artist that was never seen but always present. They had changed little since his childhood, when he had come to stare at them in the curious wonder that almost all children seemed gifted and plagued with. Then, he had always believed that no matter how old he lived, these eternal works of nature would outlast him. Should he live six lives, they would still be there.
Now that he had crafted an immortal body, he was not so sure. Time could only tell which would live longer.
Pausing, he stretched and flexed the many limbs of the puppet he had taken refuge inside of, listening critically to the soft creak of the joints for any problems. Unfortunately, some grit had managed to get in, but that couldn't be helped in the desert. Thankfully, he'd taken a few precautions to be sure it wouldn't hinder his movement, nor cause his creation to make an excessive amount of noise. Once he'd reached the village, he'd need to climb his way in, and that required flexibility and subtlety.
For half a moment, he wished he had Deidara's knack for creating things that could properly fly. Then he dismissed it, recalling the fact that those flying pieces of so-called 'art' were explosive, not to mention glaringly noticeable.
When Pain had assigned Sasori and Deidara to investigate Suna prior to their attempt to capture the Kazekage, the first thing that came to mind was 'damn sand'. The second thing that came to mind was 'damn Deidara'. His partner was no good when it came to being sneaky, and his sense of true art was wretchedly was why, once he'd made all of the preparations required for this particular mission, he'd taken special care to not let his blonde companion know when he was leaving. The trip was both faster and quieter without him around, not to mention notably more peaceful. He could hear himself think, for once.
Turning one of the wooden wrists, Sasori considered where he would need to go in the village to gather the most information he could before daybreak. All he would really need to know was how the layout had changed since he'd last been there, what the strength and reaction time of the military was, and how they could most easily draw out the-
Sasori froze as the whisper of sand shifting underfoot broke the silence of the night. Slowly, he pressed up against one of the arched backs of pale stone, thankful of the silent nature of his puppet and the leanness of its body. Hiding was not something he typically did, but sometimes it was preferable. Tonight, he'd rather not be noticed if he could help it.
Gaara was lost in his thoughts.
How much do I want this?
He found himself wondering.
When it frustrates me so much I'd rather be alone?
Even though I know the last thing I want is to be alone again...
He shook his head, waving his wild hair almost to the point of making a noise, trying to clear those thoughts from his head.
"I don't want to be alone. I just want to think."
But his brother had even questioned him about it. And his brother would know, being older and wiser and more experienced in the court feuds of Suna's politician-ing.
The sand was shallow, but it still was sand, and the sand he was familiar with. So familiar, in fact, that sometimes Gaara was convinced it spoke to him. The message he received was not in words, but it was still clear as glass.
There is someone else here. He could feel them on the sand.
He stopped in his place, eyes searching for whoever was out there.
It wasn't foe he was anticipating, but surely if a Suna resident was aware Gaara was in the vicinity, they'd announce themselves. And if they weren't a Suna resident, then they couldn't mean well.
Inside his puppet, Sasori frowned. The only person who would be awake and wandering outside of Suna at this hour, without guard and without being grilled for leaving their post, was-
Gaara.
Kazekage.
Bijuu vessel.
It had to be.
Sasori moved as much as the rock he leant against in the silent stillness that followed, considering his options. Judging from the sounds that the Kazekage was making – which were none at all – his presence had been somehow noticed. Either that or the boy was having a quiet reverie, and thought himself to be the only one in this lovely patch of landscape. Assuming it was the latter, he had only to wait until the youth returned to village before he could move on to complete his mission. However, if the former was true, things had just become many times more difficult. There was too little cover here for him to retreat unnoticed, and a battle in this puppet would be extremely unwise. He had his puppet summons with him, as usual, but they were fewer and weaker than usual. Right now, he was at a severe disadvantage in terms of power.
Damnit. Of all the times I've put up with that loud-mouthed brat, it had to be the one time he would be useful that I decided to ditch him. Perfect.
There was no denying that Deidara would be good to have around right now. If there was a battle, the explosions – however conspicuous they were – would be useful. Weapons, however, would have little effect on sand, poisoned or not. His only chance, when it came down to it, would be to lay at least one scratch upon the Jinchuuriki. If he could manage that, he would be fine.
Slowly, careful to leave the velvet silence of the night unscathed, Sasori lifted one of the arms of the puppet. The forearm folded in on itself, a long blade slipping out of the gap. Its edge was covered with something thick and black, something that didn't reflect the light back into the sky, something deadly and dripping. It was a concoction that he had designed himself, rendering the body useless almost instantly, and killing it three days later.
Sasori's body was tensed, prepared to attack, defend, or simply wait.
Gaara shut his eyes and steadied his hand, forcing himself to further contemplate the situation. He should gather his sand to defend, but he risked a moderate deal if it was a Suna resident in the area.
...But it would be better to apologize to a flustered villager then to be caught off guard by some assassin or the like.
In an obvious display of wariness, tendrils of sand lifted off the ground, leaving the curved white stone beneath. Like a sightless animal feeling around, the limbs of the desert began curling around the stone, looking for whoever was nearby. They seemed drawn to the weight near one column of stone, each making their way around the others before eventually converging on that point.
Gaara was silent as he held his hands up, commanding the sand with subtle gestures and smooth chakra control. He was gauging, waiting for any reaction.
When the sand - animate as though alive, crawling over the ground, twisting through the air - turned its winding, seemingly aimless path towards him, Sasori became acutely aware that it was just about time to move. He had little more than a moment before he would be identified by the searching grains. Before, his options had been limited, but now even more so was he aware that the odds against him were great - this puppet was only slightly defensive and less offensive, despite being fast and flexible. No matter what decision he made, things would be difficult. Open desert did not provide good cover for a retreat, and battle...well, some would label it stupid when considering his current state of affairs. However, as was stated before, his options were limited. Whether he would defend himself or try to escape depended on the actions of the Kazekage, but either way-
Something brushed against the foot of his puppet; he could feel the slight nudge acutely in his chakra strings.
No more time to think.
Sasori spun around, no longer attempting to hide his presence or remain silent, and scuttled up the side of the wind-carved rock. Blade-tipped fingers scraped at the rock for grips. Spidering his way up to the curved surface that marked the top of the formation, he paused as more of his arms folded in, multitudes of blackened blades slipping out of the narrow gaps. The black and red cloak he wore – dirtied by his travels and now filthy with his climb – was shredded as limbs shot out on all sides.
All the while, in his mind, one word repeated:
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.
Gaara felt his as his sand felt as though it were simply an extension of himself. It brushed against something, he couldn't tell what for certain, but he knew it was of a different build and texture then the stone.
But in a scratching, ragged movement, that something began darting up the stone in a completely...inhuman movement.
The sand retreated back to surround the silent Suna nin, who had nearly dropped his offensive tactics, thinking that he had mistaken an oversized animal of the desert for a human.
Even though it did not seem human...it did not quite seem animal, either. Especially when, in very mechanical noises, blades of some awful color began folding out from some machinery inside it. Had Gaara not been from the Sand village, he might have spent more then a few instants wondering in horror what thing he had encountered. But his life experiences served him well, as he hastily reached one likely conclusion: puppet.
However, though he had that as a mindset, the use of puppetry reminded him of his brother, and this distant connection kept him from striking out against the possible attacker. Half because the familiarity made him want to wait to see if they would reveal themselves, half because he was convinced that the puppeteer was someplace else entirely.
Sasori paused.
No offensive reaction from the Kazekage. That could either be very good or very bad, though he wasn't particularly keen on finding out.
Option one: run very fast, very far.
Option two: go on the defensive, and then run very fast, very far.
Option three: capture the Kazekage now, and then run very fast, very far with him tucked under one arm.
How he hated making difficult decisions.
At a pace more deliberate and careful than his initial scramble, Sasori maneuvered over the smooth sandstone, the grip-blades on the many hands of the puppet scratching roughly over the rock, occasionally gouging it. The razor-edged weapons that protruded from every limb refused to refract the light of the moon back into its round, pale face, instead devouring the cool glow.
The mouth of the puppet clacked open, and row after row of serrated steel teeth glinted.
"Hello there, Gaara." The voice was rough and hollow in the wood and metal throat, almost as mechanical as the body from which it issued. "Nice night for a little stroll around the dunes, wouldn't you agree?"
Hesitant, Gaara followed the puppet with his gaze as it moved, occasionally taking the risk to look away, searching for whoever was controlling it. As it came closer, he stood his ground, like he would for any foe. But his hair seemed lifted slightly, and his jaw was set in tension.
He was caught between thinking it was some animal approaching him, and some weapon that he should anticipate springing with kunai and darts flying everywhere.
Kunai? He could handle them. Needles? Those too. And already he was getting ready for poison smoke. That would be more difficult, as simple sand walls wouldn't protect him.
The grains of the desert swirled around him, forming some noticeable, but vague sphere, ready to block an attack.
But when it parted its jaws and spoke through rattling, dagger like teeth, his eyes visibly widened. Even more so when it called him by name.
Kankuro wouldn't toy with him like this. He wouldn't.
But then, who was this puppeteer?
Swallowing, he relaxed his arms and managed a steady-voiced reply.
"Every night is a stroll for me. But who are you to wander the dunes near my village?"
He maintained eye contact, however artificial, now that the doll addressed him.
The puppet's style, now that he was closer, reminded him so much of his brother's. All except for the gathered mass of black blades. That seemed...unlike his brother, whose face half hidden in paint was floating up in his mind. Half out of his need to let the situation be diffused, he still feebly clung to the hope that his brother had come to keep him company during the night.
The puppet chuckled, a grating, harsh sound that resembled the grind of machinery more than it did laughter.
"No one you know, I assure you." Crawling down the rock face and sliding to the ground, the puppet stood at its full height upon the thin layer of sand that covered the earth. Ten arms, each converted into a weapon, crossed simultaneously over the cloth-covered chest in a monstrous human mimicry of condescending impatience. "But certainly someone you've heard of. Or, at least, someone your brother has heard of."
Gaara kept his eyes trained on the face, however a useless appendage it was. But it was moving such that it inappropriately invoked his curiosity. It was...humanlike despite its puppet form, and his mind pondered over whether such a being could actually be...alive.
In his naivety, he still stood his ground, still holding up his constant posture of fearlessness. He was Gaara of the Desert, after all.
But the mention of his brother concerned him, and his feet shifted on the gritty stone, ever so slightly.
Kankuro is fine. That was not a threat in his voice, and you saw him today when you checked over everyone. You made sure, he told himself, and became still once more.
"You are an intruder then?" Dumb question. If someone had a legit reason to be traveling to Suna, he would have been informed at least twenty times in the proceeding week.
Teal eyes flickered to look once last time to search for the puppeteer.
"Rather, do you intend to attack me?"
Sasori pondered the question, stilling. There were many ways it could be answered; he could say no, and possibly go off on his merry way to receive severe punishment from Pain for failing the research mission and alerting none other than the Kazekage that Suna was the object of someone's interest; he could say yes, and launch an attack and-or be attacked; or, he could give an ultimatum and allow it to be received however it would.
That last option seemed best.
"Not if you agree to come quietly," The mouth of the puppet clacked together at he spoke, teeth rattling. "However, if it is a fight you want, it's a fight you'll have. Just know that if you decide to tangle with me, the last person you should be worrying about is yourself."
It was a subtle threat, and one that the red-headed Jinchuuriki would do well to heed. However difficult it might be to harm Gaara, the people of the Sand village were not nearly as well prepared to deal with an assault of puppets, despite being the main hub of puppet masters. He'd brought down a nation single-handedly once before, and he could do it again; would do it again.
Subtle, despite his toes dipped into the political pool already, was not something Gaara typically did well. It took a while, him staring still at the puppet he knew now wasn't his brothers. The last one he should worry about?
He didn't bother to shift his gaze in some quick, darting motion this time. Attention taken, he turned his head towards the cliff walls of Suna, back where the village's embers still burned with some light. It was quiet. Unprepared.
It depended on him for protection, as did everyone within it.
He thought over his options, looking back at the puppet. He could always bide time to find the puppeteer, but his success with that already discouraged him.
He could ignore the threat, and attack whatever came for him.
...Or perhaps he could do with some dishonesty.
"Come with you where?" He spoke up, and the sand that swayed around him came to a slow stop.
Inside the puppet, a slow smile touched Sasori's face; it could be heard in his voice as he spoke.
"All you need to know is that it's a place you won't be coming back from. Not alive, at least. Though, I suppose your lifespan once you get there really depends on your behavior. It would be something of a pain to have to kill you. However, it's not all bad – in fact, some of it is quite good. I'm sure you'd like to be rid of Shukaku, would you not?" The puppet lifted one hand, palm up. "We have the power-" the hand clenched, as though it were squeezing something, crushing something. "-to take it from you. Without the demon, you'll have no more reason to fear falling asleep at night, nor the villagers have any reason to distrust you."
But there's a catch, my little friend, because if we take the bijuu – when we take the bijuu – you will die.
Something in his insides squirmed, and the dense mass of chakra within his body roused itself at being named. It looked through Gaara's eyes, and saw with contentment that it was nighttime.
Whoever the person was, it made no difference to the creature.
It wasn't going to leave Gaara. At least, not without being pried away.
The boy's eyes were wide. Not bright, but definitely wide.
The puppet used the term 'we'. This was a group. He had heard of it, hadn't he?
The ones after the bijuu, like the demon inside him.
Some brief fire flared up in him, and the sand twisted, but then fell.
Shukaku, removed?
...if anything in the world, he wanted that. And despite his attempt at falsehood, he'd wonder if he could actually bring himself to say he wouldn't want it taken from him. Taken far away, erased from his existence and memory.
Snapping its jaws, the creature stirred more, angered at being considered expendable. Whatever fury he gathered, however, was quickly silenced, as the infernal brat was too experienced with his fits, and simply suppressed him.
Gaara spoke once more, in a softer tone."So your quarrel is with me, not my village?" He had meant to sound more confident.
"That's right." He'd struck a nerve when he'd mentioned the removal of the bijuu, he could see it in those blue-green eyes and he could hear it in the softening of his tone. "If you cooperate, your village will be left well alone. Only if they attack first will there be casualties. Which is why - should you decide to come with me rather than have their safety threatened - I recommend sending a message to someone you trust, informing them that they shouldn't pursue you."
The puppet tilted its head and crossed two of its arms, joints creaking as it moved. "Unless, of course, you wish to fight me, in which case no such message would be necessary, because neither you nor they would be alive to send or receive it.
"Whether or not the children of Suna wake up tomorrow morning is purely up to you."
Before the other had spoken, he had been telling himself that giving up Shukaku wouldn't be the correct path to take. Giving up the beast would be handing over a weapon to an apparent foe. Even if he wanted Shukaku gone, it was his responsibility to keep it within Suna's possession. Not only that, but the village...needed him. He couldn't just walk away with this puppet.
That is, until he heard out the puppet's final, explicit threat.
And his heart told him he had to, before his mind could shout it down.
If he gave himself up, Suna would be safe. And somehow he knew that this person wasn't bluffing.
...But if he was, he would find out soon.
A deep inhale, and Gaara forced himself into a near limp relaxation.
"Very well. I will go with you."
Easier than I expected.
Too easy?
Sasori remained still for a moment longer, searching for any sign of falsehood or an attack that was only waiting for him to let down his guard. One could never be sure with an enemy, and Gaara in particular was notably unpredictable. However, the lack of battle tension in the Kazekage's form did not speak of betrayal, nor had the expressions that had flickered over his face as he considered the offer and threat.
Not that I wanted a fight, but...it's odd that he should care so much for this village, despite their hatred. Or perhaps he's just selfish enough to want to get rid of Shukaku regardless of Suna and its people.
Whatever.
All arms sheathed their weapons, the blades slipping back into the wooden hollows that sealed seamlessly around them. Six of the ten vanished into the tattered cloak, retracting until they were needed for battle like the claws of some horrific mechanical cat. The razor-edged grips on its finger tips also retreated back into the wood. Steel teeth clinked together as the mouth of it closed with a hollow chk.
The puppet waved one of its four remaining hands in a gesture for the redhead to come closer. Precautions would need to be taken in this case, and one of them was being sure he had at least some control over his captive, willing or not.
"Behave, and I won't hurt you." Again, the puppet motioned for him to approach.
There were a few things that needed to be taken care of before they could take their leave. One of them was making sure that they wouldn't be pursued. For this, he would need Gaara. Also, without the assistance of Deidara's flying creations, they would be traveling on foot, and it wouldn't hurt to gather some supplies for the journey. Because his body required neither, he had brought neither food nor drink, and Sasori would be in a world of pain – no pun intended – if the Jinchuuriki died of dehydration on their way to the meeting place; leader would use his corpse as a centerpiece at the main hideout. Not to mention the fact that it would be nice to have some extra oils and cleaning fabrics for his puppets, to be sure that the joints moved smoothly and easily. He'd brought some along, but already he was running low.
Gaara had to assess the situation. Assess it over and over again to calm some fluttering wild in his thoughts.
First, he had to assume that he was submitting to someone at least his equal, if not greater. Until that was proven wrong, he would avoid doing anything to provoke the other.
Second, the success of any situation demanded that he stay alert. At any attempts to render him unconscious he would attempt to thwart, regardless of his agreement with the puppet.
Third, make certain he didn't become a captive. That would give the other an even greater edge.
Fourth...No one would notice he was gone until seven the next morning. Around six hours between now and then.
Six hours of a head start makes a world of a difference in the desert.
He forced himself to hear the other's threat as a bargain. After all, all of this had been a bargain. His life for his village's?
...He had agreed to that, hadn't he?
Silent, he walked forward to the great machine, sand settling back upon the stone beneath them.
"Now, listen carefully, because it's quite simple and I don't like to repeat myself." Sasori circled Gaara, speaking as he gathered chakra into his fingertips. "We are going to go into Suna. Together. However, I – unlike you – will not be seen. You are to let someone know that you're going somewhere. I don't care where. Just be sure that they won't come looking for you." The chakra spun itself into threads, thinning until it was visibly undetectable and the energy level was low enough to be unnoticeable. "Once that's been taken care of, we'll be off to gather five days worth of whatever it is you eat and drink and wear." Let's not forget the puppets, either. "Then we'll be leaving."
Lightly, he poked the back of the Kazekage's head. "And don't get any clever ideas about telling someone to come looking for you. Particularly don't make the mistake of thinking that when Suna's out of sight, it's out of reach, too. I could destroy it just as easily from Kumo as I can from right here." Not entirely true, but he could manipulate the puppets enough to release clouds of poison over and into the village.
There was a single, thin strand of chakra connecting Sasori's finger to the other's head. If Gaara noticed it – being most likely ignorant of the dynamics of chakra strings, despite his brother's familiarity with such things – the puppet master would be much impressed.
Captives...No captives.
And this man expected him to lie to another to spread the six hour distance even longer? A length damning?
"I will not allow you to enter Suna." The boy did not move, and his expression of calm submission did not shift. But something had changed in his voice as he watched the other circle him like some predator. "If you want me to get supplies and speak to another, you will remain here and wait for me to return." He was commanding.
He had to divert attention away from the village.
But...was the puppet gathering chakra? It faded before he could truly pick it out, but it felt as if the golem was molding chakra.
Sasori felt irritation stir at the young man's defiance – young boy's defiance, for he truly was nothing more than a boy. It wasn't even so much what he had refused to let him do as much as the fact that he had refused to let him do it. To think that he, Kazekage or no, would not submit was cause alone for anger. That he had also attempted to command him-
One of the hard, wooden hands came down on Gaara's shoulder, its grip like iron.
"Perhaps I have not made myself clear." Voice harsh, nearly a growl in the metallic throat. "We will go into Suna, we will gather what is needed, and we will leave. Did I mention waiting for you? I don't believe I did. However, I did mention that I do not like to repeat myself.
"Know that I have killed stronger Kazekage's than you. Also know that your words will not bar me from the village of my birth."
Inside the puppet, Sasori flinched grimaced at his own words, regretting the looseness of his tongue. He'd said far more than he'd planned.
Eyes widened, and Gaara's breath came in a sharp hitch. Not because he was reminded that he should be fearful of his would-be captor.
No. It was because of the little facts the other had neglected to keep quiet.
Electricity made wild strokes through his mind, as thoughts connected to memories he had pushed away, buried in favor of knowledge he preferred.
...A village will always teach of its past inhabitants.
A shinobi knows a bingo book as well as the layout of his village. And Gaara found it a wonder he had not recalled the hazy little memory before.
There were puppeteers in Suna. There had always been, as the village practically coined the technique, and any other attempts by other villages were just in futile imitation.
And the thing standing behind him was possibly a work of the best that had ever existed.
That was the thought he created from the fact that this being used puppets, and that he once called Suna his home.
Killed...stronger Kazekages?
That was something beyond his grasp.
He let his eyes shut, and he breathed in again, terribly weary of the hand digging in to his shoulder.
"Where is your puppeteer? Perhaps he could properly speak with me."
"You can speak to me fine through this puppet," Sasori growled, unwilling to reveal just how close he truly was. Inside the arm that gripped the Kazekage's shoulder, the creak of turning gears and the soft clinks of metal could be heard, the hidden blade rotating inside. It was directing itself in such a way that it would bury itself in the shoulder beneath should it be drawn. "It's not a separate being, obviously. Chiyo never fully developed the technique to bring puppets to life. If she had, she'd have sent them after me already."
There was no use in hiding his knowledge of Suna at this point, nor his identity. The Kazekage now knew that he was from the Sand, and if he had gauged the reaction of the youth accurately, he also had some idea of who the 'puppeteer' was. If he did, then it would be wise of him not to push his luck this evening.
Ruffled, but still unmoved, Gaara relented to not push the other to reveal himself.
The blade in the mechanism, or the faintest imagining of it, roused the sand on the stone.
...They were slipping back into hostilities.
And if the other was truthful about killing a Kazekage...although the only Kazekage's fate that was unknown was the Third's. And the Third had gone on without the sliver of a hint to his life or death. Wars had been fought because of that need for any shred of what had happened to him.
Could this puppeteer have...?
"Fine. I will go into Suna, and you will follow me as you wish." At first he was careful with his words, picking them out to let the other feel as if he was in control. But that intent cast a scathing taste on his lips, and he broke into a sharp disclaimer. "Harm anyone while you are there, and I will make sure you never receive your demon."
Gaara did not know how he could fulfill that threat, but as soon as he had voiced it he was certain that he would find a means of doing so.
Anger flared at the threat, but Sasori pushed it away impatiently – there was no point in quarreling.
Briefly, he made a mental note never to bother himself with a fellow redhead again.
"I have no intention of harming anyone in your precious village." He spat, removing his hand from the other's shoulder in a clicking of joints. "Their lives have little meaning to me. The only reason I wish to enter Suna is to keep an eye on you and collect what little I'll need for the journey to our destination."
Stepping away from Gaara, he jerked one arm irritably in the direction of Suna, indicating that it was damn well time to get the whole thing over with and go.
Gaara stared after him silently.
The other didn't understand, then. It was because their lives meant little to him that he was so adamant on keeping the puppeteer away from them.
Sasori. Of the Red Sand.
That was the name he had heard. There was no face in his mind to match it, save for perhaps some aged, sharp featured elder, with a scowl to match the ragged voice.
He began moving, and the sand at his feet tailed along like some flock of loyal dogs.
He wouldn't be able to tell Baki. He would hold him fast to his responsibility to the village. Matsuri? As her 'teacher' he doubted he could lie to her face. And the entire situation reminded him too much of what happened two years ago to force her into that again.
Temari.
If he came to her professing a need for some time away, for a little 'vacation', as she had been suggesting that he took some daylight to himself, she might agree.
She might even keep it a secret.
Not that she was an option anyways, seeing as she was off on a mission.
That only left Kankuro.