"Sasori."
The moment his name left her lips, he stiffened, as still as the puppets he wields. His eyes bored into her own, and for a brief moment, she felt as if everything else in the world faded away. What she was looking at just wasn't possible. Akasuna no Sasori was not standing in her living room, untouched as the first time she saw him, breathing steady as if he wasn't breaking into an enemy's apartment.
Stop.
Breathing? He doesn't breathe, he's a puppet! She had never seen him even fake a breath in the entirety of their battle before. Sakura might not be the smartest of the Rookies, but she wasn't stupid. It must be a backup of some kind. Whatever creation of his he had planned must have made him human again. But that should be damn near impossible! No eyes, no physical markers or defects, so it wasn't Reanimation or any type of Resurrection she had seen or read.
She was so sure that Chiyo explained everything, and when his core was pierced that should have been the forever end of him in this world. Sakura even spent an extra month in Suna going through Chiyo's journals and notes that Gaara had graciously let her browse. When he first offered them to her, she thought it would be disrespectful and wanted them to be buried with Chiyo, but Gaara assured her that no one else would have made Chiyo happy and proud to share with. It also helped that with his sand technique, once she was finished and gathered as much as she could, she knew that he settled them right where they should be, alongside her in death.
Coming out of her thoughts of her old friend, Sakura knew as much about him as any enemy shinobi could. And according to what she read and understood from the ramblings of his own grandmother, he was dead and gone. For good. It was one of the few things that helped her let go of the experience. Her first S-class takedown, her first fatal wound, her first sustained poison, her first sacrifice, her first encounter with an Akatsuki.
Sakura had admitted to herself a long time ago that she became borderline obsessed. Even as she moved on to bigger and brighter parts of her life, training, and healing. Though she never spoke of it to anyone, she found him fascinating. He looked so young, forever trapped in his puppet body, yet moved so gracefully, so fluid, never betraying the fact that he was pure wood. And although not a lot of her fellow shinobi had seen hers in action, their battle was what had started her love for the use of chakra strings. Puppetry, to her, was one of the finest and most undervalued shinobi art forms to exist.
And that speaks nothing to the awe she held for the poisons he had created as well. Rather than apply her strings to puppets, she used them for handling her weapons, manipulating her opponents, and holding the bodies of her comrades in battle or defeated enemies. Puppetry was beautiful, but just not her main style. So, like anything else she took a liking to, she molded it to use as her own. And if she used them from time to time to help sort her hospital paperwork, then no one was the wiser.
Sasori hadn't made a move since they locked their chakra together on the floor, and his eyes had yet to leave hers. She relaxed just a bit more when she realized that he must not have come here to kill her, at least not yet, or she would already be dead. She really didn't want to take her eyes of his face. Never in her lifetime did she think that she would be able to let go of the regret of not having enough time with him. No time to study his poisons, to defeat more of them, learn and develop from them. No further chances to let her developed skills take him by surprise. Dimly, she was aware that her strings were still keeping his at bay. Her eyes finally moved to their chakra entwined at their feet, and she couldn't stop herself from catching her breath in the back of her throat.
My chakra has never done that before. When Kankuro and I spar and our strings meet, they hold each other off or lash out. Never enmeshed together, never interwoven. Maybe because I don't feel particularly threatened by him this time. Maybe it's the obsession for him coming back. I wonder if it's possible for chakra to recognize another subconsciously this way. I suppose it's all a matter of what he wants. She lifted her chin and straightened her back, making a point to re-sheath her kunai at her thigh. Sakura wanted him to know that she wasn't some shaking chunin anymore; she was S-class in her own right, and all she needed was a signal to prove it. I wonder if he's read the newer Bingo Books, she smirked.
He watched her with growing interest, though his face never gave it away. She was so different than what he expected. Mature, calm, sure of herself. The Cherry Blossom had certainly grown since his defeat. She felt… different now. Smirking to himself, he thought, I was ready to simply come and take my revenge on the stupid little girl that struck luck, but now…. now this will be interesting. He didn't just want revenge, he wanted her to suffer. Detesting waiting, she made him wait; detesting his grandmother, she made him soft; detesting defeat, and she caused him to lose. Oh, he has always hated waiting, but now…now he knew that he could make time for her.
A lengthy game, this will be.
"Sasori," she began, lilting her voice on the last syllable of his name, "what a…pleasant surprise."
He gave in to his smirk at that, finding it amusing that she wasn't afraid of him anymore. She should be. The Cherry is not the only one that has grown in my absence. He felt a strange vibration coming from his chakra strings and glanced downward, taking in the pink…pink?! chakra strings wrapped around his. It was his turn to take eyes off an enemy, because for the entirety of his lifetime, flesh or wood, he'd never encountered chakra of this nature and color, let alone chakra that would…embrace? his own. Throughout the years, even other string users, it's always a fight, or a barrier, never docile like tonight.
What an unusual color…she is just full of surprises, isn't she? When did she even develop strings? Does she utilize puppetry now?
He stared at them a little longer, taking in the way they seemed to flow together. Ever since he was reborn, his own chakra was no longer the blue he'd always known and used. Flowing closer to a ruddy maroon, the color of his natural hair before he died; as well as thicker and more difficult to maintain. When he first opened his eyes, he even had to admit to himself that he had a brief moment of panic, thinking he could no longer call his chakra at all. Weeks turned to months, but he slowly regained that control, that strength. The finesse it takes to manipulate his strings, his puppets, that took even longer. Over a year of simple exercises, just to get back what he innately knew from birth was laughable to him. Oh, how the mighty can fall, he had thought. Never one to wallow, he accepted it and pushed, knowing even before he died that his resurrection would come with consequences he could not predict. He supposed to be breathing and still working puppets that he was lucky, far luckier than he should have been, had you asked anyone else.
That isn't to say that he was idle during his… physical therapy. New poisons, new hybrid puppets and weapons systems made his old moves and horde look small and mediocre. He wonders if she'll be able to make antidotes for them now. Maybe she even has her own; he had taken in the cabinet sealed tight in the corner. At this point, he was reveling in the anticipation.
What a lovely puppet she would make.
Staring down each other, neither made a motion to move. It was almost a dance in itself, that tense moment before the action, soaking in sweet adrenaline.
Sakura watched as he took in the chakra at their feet. She noticed his own chakra had changed in color. Just like hers. She would never admit it, but it suits him. Someone who was as intelligent and powerful as he was needed their own flare, in her opinion. Sakura already gave him the satisfaction of speaking first, twice now. She would not repeat herself again. Unlike the older nin, she did not mind waiting in the slightest, so that is exactly what she would do.
Sasori knew that she was waiting for him at this point, starting to realize that she wasn't even taking him seriously as a threat. His eyes took in her kunai disappearing into the sheath on her thigh. He supposed she did open discourse first, and he could humor her. Receding his own chakra, slowly, he leveled her with a blank face, as empty as it would have been if he was still wooden. He wasn't going to make the mistake of engaging her too early, but a few words might shed light on how much she's grown. Know one's enemy as one knows thyself.
"Little girl."
Sakura couldn't help herself any longer. She grinned, crossing her arms and leaning her weight on one foot. "Yes?"
Sasori felt incensed, her, mocking him? Intolerable. "I don't think you're quite in the position for jokes, brat." he spat. "And I wouldn't be so quick to relax, either."
She didn't know if it was the lapse in patience from the monotony of her life lately, or just the fact that he'd been in the back of her mind for so long it's like she knew him, but she couldn't find it in herself to care about the threats he would make tonight. Just seeing him had that cold wave sweep over her, chilling her down to the bone and bringing the world into hyper focus. She was a killer, and so was he. And a part of her itched, right under her skin, to find out who was better. Who would win? She didn't think it was weird to find out while smiling like a maniac, not at all.
"If you were here to kill me, Sa-so-ri, you would have done it by now. If you plan to draw it out, by all means, make your speech. You've been in my thoughts far too long to rush things now." she drawled, watching the way his face twitched with annoyance. She felt the first flutter of anticipation run through her, but she knew he wouldn't act now, no matter how much she prodded. Her apartment was in the middle of the residencies for the majority of Konoha's shinobi, too far from any viable, unscathed, escape option in time. He wasn't here for Konoha, he was here for her, and she knew it.
Sasori would never admit it to himself, but his ears perked up at that last statement. She has obsessed just the same. Curious. He wondered briefly if he stars in her nightmares, but he won't ask. If he is, he plans to make them reality. Harsh, bitter, and unyielding. Just like a good poison.
"I did not come here to kill you. I hate waiting, and I detest unsettled debts. I owe you a defeat. After all, we can't leave things the way we did, can we?"
Sakura smirked at that. She supposed not.
"Afterwards, once you have suffered, then you may die. We will see. You may prove yourself worthy enough to be a puppet for my collection."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit.
"As if I'd ever become a puppet of yours, Sasori." she snorted. That certainly was not an option. Fight him, learn him, but never be defeated by him. She was on the winner's platform, and she would be keeping her streak, thank you very much.
"You may not see it, but another defeat is on the horizon. I wonder how you'll take it if I don't kill you this time. You see, Sasori," she began, almost breathy with anticipation, "I've wanted to study you again for a long time." A bit lost in anticipation, she took a step towards him, encroaching on his space. A distant, tiny part of her brain chimed with alarm, but she didn't care. If this was real, it was worth all the risk.
"One of the few regrets in my life is that younger me was so focused on survival that I didn't take the time to learn all I could in our brief time together. I've done my best to rectify that, and now…now you've brought the opportunity right to me. Although I am a bit disappointed to see you in flesh. You say that you might take me as a puppet, but maybe you'll be one of my experiments instead." She smiled at him then, first genuine, but then it turned into something wicked, as if she was remembering
He decided that she wasn't to be underestimated or undervalued. Not that he would have been so foolish as to miscalculate any opponent, but something dark glinted in her eyes that told him that he may need to re-strategize parts, or all, of his plan for her. Whatever she meant by experiment, didn't sound enjoyable. He wondered if that was her role in this village now. He heard the whispers, hospital director, advisor to the Hokage, but he wasn't new to a village's inner workings. No matter how docile and light a Hidden Village looked, there were always shinobi to not only keep their dark secrets but expand on them.
He found himself contemplating just how dark she might be. One of his contacts in Suna had clued him in that she had undertaken unclassed missions, and more than just a few. From what he could see of her skin, he didn't notice the mark of a Leaf Anbu, but that didn't mean she wasn't part of their Black Ops division. Things had changed, indeed.
He locked eyes with her again and noticed that in all the time that had passed them that one thing didn't change at all. Her eyes were still that vibrant beryl that they were all those years ago. He took a step toward her, noticing how she didn't tense immediately, instead watching him as if he would disappear should she blink.
Sasori kept coming towards her, invading her space and Sakura made no moves to leave or defend herself. She was simply too interested in what might come if she stayed and allowed the closeness. It would be foolish to try and pretend like she wasn't hanging on his every movement and word, so she wouldn't. Simple as that. Her fascination had all but grown as she did, and she would take every advantage he gave her before it boiled over into one of their deaths, or capture.
He was close enough now to touch, but she waited instead, eager to see what he would try to do or say. She wanted so much more than the typical stony silence of enemies, and she would be damned if she endangered that in any way. Staring up into his eyes, she felt small in stature, but she knew that it ended there. Feeling each other out the way they did earlier, there was no longer a difference in skill, only knowledge and experience, and it was a delicious feeling. Sakura let it show on her face, the anticipation of whatever he would give her, whatever he might try to take from her.
"Sa-ku-ra," he purred. "I wonder if I broke something in you then, for you to react to me like this. I expect a loyal Leaf shinobi to attack on sight, or at the very least rage with that unique flavor of moral high ground you all seem to carry like a shield."
A twitch of lips was his reward for poking at her, but Sakura held her own.
"I'm sure you'd love to take credit for that, wouldn't you? I've never been one for posturing. My loyalty remains the same, whether I let you have your speeches or not."
Sasori smirked at that, she certainly wasn't wrong. But he didn't come here to learn how she handled moral and ethical debates. He came for blood and pain, and he would not be leaving the Land of Fire without it in spades.
"Enough talk, little girl. We both know I came for you, not your pitiful village. I want to see you bleed, I want to see you suffer. I have plenty of new poisons I need a guinea pig for, and you'll do just fine." His words were darker with each passing sentence, and she shivered at the promises in them. She wouldn't let him seriously hurt her, but the mention of new concoctions was certainly tempting. And valuable.
Green eyes narrowed, and she leaned in those last few inches. He could actually feel her breath ghosting his mouth now that he was flesh, and something deep down felt such whole satisfaction at her challenge.
"You can certainly try."