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Marionette (Sasori- centric)
He'd realized he was a puppet long before he made himself one. He had been trained from a young age to kill.
Though, he thought it ironic that his weapon of choice, the weapon he had been trained to use for so long, was so much like him.
A puppet.
Both used until they were useless.
That's why, when the choice came, to leave or to remain in this place where he was nothing, he left his home, and, in the process, made his parents into the very things they intended to use him as.
The only one he spared was his grandmother. He had no wish to harm her, the only one to ever treat him with kindness. His Chiyo- baa- sama.
In the end, he altered his body to resemble that of a weapon… because he didn't want to feel the pain anymore.
He didn't want to feel the pain of turning his parents into puppets. Things that thrive off of the will of their master. He no longer wished for the pain that came with hurting the only one he trusted.
Then, he realized that he was simply a murderer, no longer able to even grace himself with the title of "human." So he joined the ones just like him. He joined the killers entitled Akatsuki.
It gave him a sick sense of calm, being around these people who were just as messed- up as he was. Maybe it was because he didn't feel isolated. Tense? Yes. On guard? Always.
But always calm.
It wasn't simply a façade. No, it was really how he was.
If he wasn't calm, he would be hysterical. His psyche everything that he had been through.
That's why he stayed with them.
No matter how much he hated the killing, how close he was to breaking, he stayed. Simply because they kept him calm.
And he also knew that he could trust them if he broke. If somehow, this perfect marionette shattered, he could trust them to kill him. It was a comforting thought, in a sick sorta way. He wouldn't want to live if all he would accomplish was rotting away.
In a sense, him, an emotionless killer who felt nothing but calm, feared himself. He feared his state of mind. He feared that he was already rotting away within himself.
He'd become a marionette…
To rid himself of emotions.
Of pain.
But…
Maybe…
He might still be a little human after all.
Then again…
When he feels himself drenched in blood…
Why can't he react?
Not the slightest flicker of his soul cracking.
No matter how much he wants to.
Maybe he doesn't want to…
Because he knows he'll laugh.