The Compound—because there is no way it could be called a house—is decidedly empty when he arrives with Chiyo. There are rows and rows of succulents, some bunched around a pond. Sasori is torn between whether he should commend his grandmother for managing to keep a pond in the desert or pointing out that it's a horrible waste of water. He does neither of these things as he is guided in by his grandmother through the compound, pointing out the different rooms and their purposes, occasionally expounding upon their personal history as well.

They arrive at his room, it's...bland, to say the least.

It seems that his previous self was a neat freak and had an intense hatred for things called furniture. His room literally only contains his futon, some drawers for clothes, a closet, and a desk.

There is nothing else.

This has got to go, the first thing he's going to do after he gets his hands on some paint and go crazy on the walls.

It will be glorious.

If his tiny new hands have the dexterity to pull it off, that is. Otherwise, it'll just look like a six-year-old decided to paint his walls.

"Grandma?" he tugs at her sleeve, "Where are my parents?"

What he really wants to ask is if they've kicked the bucket yet, but because that'll go over so well, he's trying to be subtle. Which he is probably failing at because surveying the sad state of his room has no correlation with the existence of parents.

Chiyo seems stuck between trying to say something and not wanting to say it, looks like his parents are dead then. Considering the previous Chiyo in the anime did not ever tell her grandson about the demise of his parents. That caused him to have severe issues. Severe issues is an understatement.

At least this time he'll actually attempt at being something other than a recluse and stay mostly sane. The first part shouldn't be too hard he just has to force people to be his friends and hope that they're the ones who have a tendency to drag him out of his house. But he's not sure that he's even mostly sane now, much less later on after he's killed a bunch of people in the name of Suna and all that ridiculousness.

Oh yeah, he's going to have to kill people in the future. Fun. Maybe he can figure out a formula for how much sanity is lost per kill. He would if he actually likes math, unfortunately, he hates the subject with a burning passion so there will be no formulas anytime soon.

Sudden movement turns his attention back to his grandmother, she kneels in front of him, eye-level and for once seeming her age,

"Sasori, your parents...they didn't come back from their mission...and I don't think they will."

Well, this was a surprise, Chiyo never did this in canon...did she?

Shit, the last time he watched Naruto was two years ago and not all of the plot points or Kishimoto's messed up timeline are seared into his brain.

Well, he's royally screwed.

'Congratulations, Self, you have unlocked hidden dialogue and a new route.'

He mentally berates his brain for adding a game reference, the revelation of his now-deceased parents is no laughing matter. But he's not sad. He isn't. He tries to dredge up some sort of sorrow, but there is nothing.

These parents of his...they are strangers to him, they weren't "his" parents, they were Sasori's. And yet, in a twisted way, he is Sasori, therefore they are his parents. They are his parents yet not at the same time, it's confusing.

He opts for the healthier route of accepting that he doesn't have any relation to those strangers and that he shouldn't feel as if he's obligated to be sad about their demise. He certainly doesn't feel happy about it, just numb in the sense that these people could have been important to him, they could have been so much more. But now they're stuck as two-dimensional people, forever just characters with no real depth or identity. These people were supposed to be his parents, while he doesn't feel sad that they died, there is still an underlying sense of regret.

He'll go visit their graves when he has the chance to apologize profusely for whatever he did to their poor son.

Which is...him right now?

Sasori adds identity crises to his list of issues that may or may not need to be fixed, he'd like to have some semblance of sanity, thank you very much.

The real question is why Chiyo is taking all of this so calmly and not questioning anything. Just what did he do to himself that excuses amnesia?

"Grandma, how did I end up in the hospital?"

Chiyo purses her lips,

"You tripped."

Sasori's face blanks,

"Crazy Grandma says what now?"

Chiyo laughs, patting her grandson lightly on the head,

"You tripped and fell down the stairs because you rolled on the paint brushes I told you to not leave everywhere," She gives him a stern look, "And I was right, look what you did."

Sasori scoffs, he'd been expecting something more...impressive. But he did also die because he drowned in paint, so it's not as if he has anything to say about stupid life choices.

"Pathetic, next time I will make sure it's because I fell on my head from trying to roof jump."

"No! You will not purposefully endanger yourself!" Grandma doesn't appear to be very pleased with his declaration.

He supposes she's justified, self-harm isn't exactly a joking matter...but it's also his main supply for humor. Sasori isn't suicidal nor does he hate himself...okay maybe he hates himself a little, but not enough to go out of his way to harm himself.

He just has a very...bad sense of humor.

It offends people sometimes.

"I will attempt to keep my sorry self out of trouble, Grandma. I have another question, how old am I?"

Chiyo sighs, but lets him change the subject,

"You are five."

Huh, no wonder he's so tiny. From a college student to a toddler, what a role reversal.

And he has also used up his people meter for the day, social interaction beyond this point will end disastrously.

"Okay, I'll go to bed now, Grandma."

She nudges him towards the futon and closes the door to his room, but not before she reminds him,

"Perhaps that would be for the best, you are still recovering. We can continue the tour of the compound at a later date. Sleep well."

The door shuts and he's left to his own devices. He's not going to sleep, especially since he isn't tired and there's planning to do. Reaching a hand up, he feels his head for any injuries, clearly, he injured himself severely enough to excuse amnesia...and maybe death?

Sasori still isn't sure why he's here and not home in some hospital. He's almost certain that he died, what if the previous Sasori died too?

"But...that isn't canon. Canon Sasori lived, well, until Chiyo murdered him and he got resurrected later, but that's not the point because there's no way I'll allow that to happen."

He shudders, not dying is on the top of his list of priorities right now.

"The real question isn't how I'm here or even why, but what I will do now."

He doesn't remember much of canon Sasori, especially his younger years, beyond the fact that he was a prodigy who later delved into immoral practices and...left Suna?

Was that even what happened?

Well, Sasori definitely left Suna, the circumstances aren't exactly clear, but he was around his twenties when he did so. Somewhere after that he assassinated the Third Kazekage, made him a puppet, and made a bunch of other people his puppets. Perhaps not necessarily in that order either. He definitely killed a bunch of people minding their own business, and then Konan happened.

And then Akatsuki, and after that Orochimaru.

And then...Deidara?

After Deidara, he destroys some poor nation, the Land of This? Or was it the Land of That?

"Well, this is nice, I remember practically nothing about who I'm supposed to be, the past or the future."

He...destroys some random nation and kidnaps Gaara with Deidara, Gaara ends up dying and so does he when Chiyo stabs him through the heart.

Shit, he got killed by Sakura.

Sakura who became a meme for her uselessness.

"Am I really that pathetic? A reputation for literally staining the sand red and I get killed by a fifteen-year-old girl who can't stop chasing after her Sasuke-kun? I was an S-rank missing-nin and I get killed by Sakura?"

Fine, he'll admit that Sakura isn't useless, she has...had? Potential. She had potential, she wasn't completely useless, but her determination to marry Sasuke is very annoying.

Very, very annoying.

Kishimoto, write better female characters.

What about all the fanfiction shipping Sakura with him? Okay, maybe he read a few of them, but they weren't particularly good because...logic doesn't work that way.

Especially now since he is Sasori. Shipping random fictional characters without any logical basis can be excused. But now?

Nope.

Not.

Happening.

"Disgusting. At least I know what to avoid."

But he is five, there's more than enough time to plan later. Right now, he has to focus on not dying from stray weapons launched by irresponsible shinobi and fitting in. He'll begin with a thorough examination of his room, this is supposed to be his space, how sad would it be if he can't even adjust to himself?

Granted, most people don't wake up with "amnesia" in a different body and in a fictional world filled with death.

But he's always prided himself to be adaptable and down to earth, it takes a lot to phase him. His chronic case of senioritis helps with his general apathy.

"Ha, a five-year-old with the personality of a college student who's dead inside."

He rolls his futon up into a small bundle and pushes it to the wall, from experience, he knows that his room will later end up encroached by his numerous projects, so space will be precious.

Sleep is not that important anyway.

With that done, he opens his drawers one by one.

"Paintbrushes...did Chiyo start teaching me puppetry? Or did I already paint?"

Then he sees a small crumpled paper in the corner, he unrolls it to find a message stained by what looks like tears.

From Haha-ue and Chichi-ue to Sasori.

Oh.

This was a present from his parents. Not his parents? His not-parents?

Well.

He shuts the drawer quickly after he sets the note down carefully and empty out all the paint brushes onto the floor. He'll deal with the emotions attached to the note later.

He's...not in a good state to internalize that part of his identity yet. Especially not after Chiyo just told him about their deaths. It feels like he's intruding on something private.

Sasori isn't Sasori. He's an imposter. A stranger dressed in clothes that belonged to someone else. Someone loved and cared for.

He's...no, it's better this way. He pulls the drawer back open and retrieves the note. The words on it glare back at him mockingly.

From Haha-ue and Chichi-ue to Sasori.

"I'm sorry for replacing your son. I don't know what happened to him," He takes a deep breath, "But I will try to live his life the best I can."

Sasori gently folds the paper back up and return it to its corner in the drawer. He then moves on to the next drawer full of paper. Some of it is in rolls, others are loose and covered in diagrams. A couple of them are blank.

"Well, I now know that Sasori did start learning about puppets already," He muses, trying to decipher the diagrams and words, "This is also...from them. Haha-ue and Chichi-ue."

Then he grins, the diagrams aren't that hard, maybe for an actual five-year-old, but it has nothing against a five-year-old prodigy with the brain and experience of a college art major student. With the helpful notes in the margins, he'll be able to figure it out in no time.

"I guess that part of canon won't change, but I still will change a lot of it. Just think, Canon Sasori probably never contemplated much about his future as shinobi at five, especially not on new techniques," He places the paper back inside, leaving the blank ones behind, "But I am not canon Sasori and I plan on not dying. Canon Sasori didn't have many friends and was increasingly lonely and bored, I'm used to being a recluse for weeks to finish projects. I'll be bored anyway, why not spend that time working on plans?"

All in all, it would be a better use of his time instead of spending it feeling sorry for himself. By no means does he approve of shinobi parenting techniques—Chiyo, why would you do that to your grandson?—but he's an adult and this works in his favor.

Also, he's totally going to have a better relationship with his grandma, she's practically the last close family member he has left, he doesn't know what relationship he has with his great uncle.

Alright, things are definitely looking up! Puppetry falls under his passion for art, it's a combination of sculpture and...engineering.

Oh god.

There will have to be math...and...and...no. Not math!

He'll avoid that the best he can, he'll just use his visualizing skills instead...hopefully that'll work.

What else did Canon Sasori do other than puppets? Poison? Plants! Plants are great, plants make great substitutes for human company, he can get a whole bunch of poisonous ones and grow them in his room. Besides, making poisons can be comparable to cooking, right? He's pretty good at cooking.

Hopefully, poison-making is like cooking.

Breath in, breath out, he's five, no five-year-old should worry too much about poisons. Well, unless they live in a shinobi village, but he didn't have that Before. Eh, might as well adapt to the mindset, if he wants to live or become anything he'll have to drop his old morals like they're going out of fashion.

Because here? They are totally not fashionable.

Anyway, it's still his first day, he can read the scrolls and stuff later, maybe tomorrow? He shuts the second drawer too, opening the third and last one on the bottom.

This one is filled with paint.

Paint.

Praise the Deities that might exist.

He found paint, even if he didn't have brushes he could still fingerpaint.

He's going to paint his walls right now, Chiyo's potential disapproval be damned.

Popping open the first can of blue, he wonders what he should paint on his wall, it's funny how a character known for dying sand red with blood will now be obsessed with the color blue.

Sasori like blue now, it doesn't matter what his previous preferences for colors are, it's not like it will kill someone if he likes blue instead of red. Besides, no one knew if he actually liked red in canon.

His first masterpiece in this new world should be one memorializing the person he used to be. Sasori will change, that is unavoidable and he accepts it with open arms, but that doesn't mean he has to forget. He doesn't have to act like nothing happened or force himself to be someone he isn't. Sasori will just be unapologetically himself and canon will just have to deal.

And it will start with this painting.

The next one should be on his parents. Both pairs, an apology for not being there for them and one for not really being their son.

The final one will be something when he figures out what he wants to paint. Maybe he'll paint the fourth wall too, time will tell.

Wait, what about a galaxy on the ceiling? He'd always wanted to do that and it'll be so cool! He can paint the floors too! Maybe he'll do something about the closet he hasn't looked through yet as well.

"I hope Grandma doesn't murder me when I go wild on that poor wall," Sasori dips a brush in a sky blue, "I am completely unrepentant."


An hour later:

"Sasori? I thought you were...sleeping?"

He turns around to see Grandma in the doorway of his room, her eyes wide and gaping like a fish. Sasori looks down on his paint-covered hands and clothing, oddly content that at least one factor of his life is now normal.

He's absolutely covered in paint, as it should be.

"Hello, Grandma. Look what I did." Sasori gestures with a brush on the wall, purposefully getting more blue paint on himself.

"Sasori."

"Yes, Grandma?" Maybe this was a bad idea, Sasori intimately remembers how this Chiyo is—was?—a formidable kunoichi in her own right.

"You will go bathe right now."

"But Grandma, I'm not finished." He's not whining, he's an adult.

"Right now, I'll get you clothes that you can paint in after I lecture you on not getting more paint on yourself than the wall!"

"Right. Okay. Where is the bathroom?" Oh, she's not going to stop him from painting?

"Ah, I forgot you don't remember where that is. This is the second time today I'm showing you a bathroom, huh?"

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light or maybe it was the fumes from his paint…

But he could have sworn a tear slid down his Grandma's weary cheek as a faint relieved smile displaced the deep-set wrinkles around her mouth.


I can't decide between making this crack or actually serious or maybe both.

Help.

Anyway, I was inspired to write more of this. If you're wondering, yes, this new Sasori is basically me but ten times more exasperated with life.

(I've always wanted to paint my walls. The random finger-painted abstract art doesn't count.)

Edit: So I drew a cover because...art...why not. It didn't exactly turn out to be what I envisioned, but it's Sasori's wall painting shenanigans