Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Dying, Sasori had to admit, was kind of nice.

Or at least, the being dead part was.

He couldn't really recall what had happened the first time he died—he surmised that as a result of him not exactly dying in peace—but the second time was quite pleasant, save for the unwanted lecture from a certain wet-behind-the-ears puppeteer. Once he had accepted his imminent demise, he had been enveloped in an absolutely heart wrenching warmth—one he had thought he'd never feel again after turning himself into a puppet—and found himself smiling for the first time in decades.

He felt completely and utterly whole.

This time when he died, he didn't experience any sort of lapse in consciousness. He woke in a place void of darkness, surrounded by what seemed like the physical manifestation of purity. The sky was a beautiful azure blue, and around him stretched an endless, white—well, he wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it was certainly aweing.

In there, he spent most of his time thinking—never fatigued, nor hungry or thirsty. It was as if this area was made solely for him to reflect on the way he spent his years as a living being.

And reflect, he did. For a few years, or perhaps even a decade or so, he found himself mulling over the wrongs he had committed. For a brief moment even, he pondered how he'd go about righting his mistakes if he could, though those silly thoughts were brushed aside for how impossible they were.

And then he woke up inside his Hiruko puppet.

Yet again, he had been called back to the world of the living. He was, without a doubt, wholly shocked, though not solely from the fact that he had returned from the afterlife. He didn't doubt the possibility of it all too much—after all, bringing the dead back to life had already been proven to be achievable—but being brought back twice was definitely pushing it. With the situation being so preposterous, he couldn't even muster a dignified (and fitting) shout of surprise. All that slipped out was one tired, absolutely-fucking-done-with-Kami's-bullcrap word.

"Seriously?"

As his incredulous question echoed, he finally took in his surroundings.

He was inside the entrance into Suna—a little pathway wedged in between the seemingly impenetrable wall that encapsulated the village.

There was only one recent occasion that he could remember being in Suna for.

The Kazekage's kidnapping.

As if to confirm his suspicions, the oddly nostalgic sound of Deidara's explosions reverberated in the night sky. As the sound travelled to him, it was accompanied by the throwing of at least a dozen kunai, all of them landing near his (puppet's) feet.

He barely concealed a groan. There was no doubt about it; he definitely looked like a suspicious person, and it would take one hell of a lie to get him out of the situation. That, or a bad one coupled with great escaping skills.

He settled for the latter.

"It seems I've entered the wrong village… excuse my intrusion."

Never in his life had he moved his Hiruko puppet so quickly, and never in his life had he escaped so fast from a fight. The sand nin seemed so surprised at his abrupt exit that they made no move to pursue him. They had bigger things to worry about than some clumpy mass of a man who stood in their entrance for a couple of seconds; after all, from the looks of it, their village would be the casualty of an aerial attack in a few minutes.

Sasori had made it out safely.

And then something piqued his interest.

The men that he was certain had been killed the first time around when this whole ordeal was happened—the guards betrayed by his sleeper agent—were just as not-dead as he was. Instead, his spy was nowhere to be found, and the men were simply poisoned. (Albeit it was one of Sasori's more potent poisons, but they were alive nonetheless.)

Just as quickly as he had fled the scene, he had returned.

The nin that had confronted him moments before stood still in disbelief.

"Your guards were poisoned by… the man on the bird over there," Sasori paused, mentally sending an apology to his often-times-annoying-but-strangely-missed partner for forcing him to shoulder the blame. "Here's the antidote. There's not much of it, so some of your medic nin will have to make copies of it. Either that, or get help from that pink-haired brat from Konoha."

His voice was as raspy and unnerving as ever in his Hiruko puppet, but for the first time in all his decades of owning the damned thing, he was doing something good while using it. He pulled out a slim vial and tossed it at the man he concluded was leading the unit.

And then, once again, he booked it.

The sand nin stared at his retreating figure with a mixture of confusion and incredulity.

Someone blinked. "Do we follow after?"

Before the captain of the squad could begin to speak against chasing after the man—as far as he knew, the lumpy, cloaked man hadn't exactly done anything to warrant them biting at his heels—a huge explosion rocked the entire village, and the sky seemed to disappear behind a giant cloud of sand.

It happened all too quickly for them to even begin to comprehend. A giant clay bird. Their Kazekage falling from the sky. Said bird catching him and flying away with him. A few of them pinched themselves, absolutely certain that they were trapped in some kind of fever dream.

And then Kankuro ran out of Suna's entry pathway, his face contorted in distress.

"They have Gaara! They kidnapped the Kazekage!"

The first chapter is out, and a new adventure has begun! Fear not, other chapters will be longer.

Did you guy enjoy it? If you guys did, let me know with a review!

Have a good day! ~