Chapter Text
Time was a commodity; the human lifespan was short and woefully fragile, a fact he had learned at an early age. Therefore Sasori did his best not to waste what he had, even when he had plans that could have subverted those worries if he were so inclined. Though that scheme of his had more appeal in his teenage years. ‘Largely the work of imbalanced hormones and a yet to fully develop brain.’ Some would argue early childhood trauma played a part but the last person who attempted to psychoanalyze him had to spend a 6th month stint in Suna’s psychiatric ward. ‘I went easy on him.’ Things could have been so much worse for Dr.Shin.
In time and with age Sasori came to the conclusion that substituting one form for another wouldn’t change what was on the inside and the process was probably not worth the sacrifice such as things were. ‘ Well, no one is as wise at 15 as they are at 30.’ He had realized that just because he could do something it didn’t always mean he should. Though there were plenty of times where some minor everyday annoyance made him reconsider the decision.
Sasori still valued permanence, believing that true artistry laid in morphing what was meant to be a finite thing into something that would endure more than a single lifetime but he now saw that one did not need to be immortal to be immortalized. To be remembered generations beyond his own, to be spoken of like a myth would be a testament to his existence. ‘That and my future offspring.’ But his hopes for a genetic legacy wouldn’t come to be if the only person he had the desire to create them with worked herself to an early death.
Sakura’s focus and dedication to whatever task she set herself upon had always been attractive traits but not at the theft of time he was meant to have with her. At least once that week she’d been late to dinner, another night she’d skipped it all together. It was more than annoying, it was unacceptable. Sasori didn’t begrudge Sakura her work or her interests; he simply wanted her to do it at normal hours and at a healthy pace. ‘And if she doesn’t come to dinner it just means that dinner has to go to her.’ During which he would subtly remind her that Suna was not going to pay her extra for working late or finishing her mission early so there was no point in rushing.
The food was packed into bento’s and he set out, parcels kept safe with graceful movements and steady hands as he traveled. The closer he got to his destination the more crowded the streets became until he took to the rooftops to avoid the people below. In Sasori’s more unfavorable critiques of his village, he had noted that from up high it looked much like the mounds of a rather extensive termite colony sunk into the pits of the desert. Lamps cast a golden-toned glow across the cobweb-structured streets below, growing more dense as he approached the hospital.
Suna’s architecture favored rounded shapes and most of the windows were no different. Some were more oblong than circular but they were almost always large enough for Shinobi to use as entrances and exits as was their preference— doors were too conspicuous when one wanted to keep their comings and goings stealthy. The window that fed into Sakura’s office was no different and it took only a little coaxing from his chakra threads to unlatch the lock from the outside, hinges opening as silently as his feet hitting the floor.
It was not an indictment of Sakura’s abilities that she didn’t stir when he entered the room but rather a mark of his prowess. ‘A puppet master’s best work is done when they remain out of sight and out of mind.’ The real threat was never the obvious one, it was the one that remained unseen and unfelt until it was too late to escape.
The room’s lone source of illumination came from a desk lamp poised over Sakura’s drooped head like a spotlight, the rest of the office cast in dark shadow. Before rounding the table Sasori had given some consideration to dropping the boxes on the desk loud enough to startle her awake in a passive show of annoyance but the thought fled when he caught a glimpse of her sleeping face.
Arms laced over the binder she’d been working in, Sakura’s cheek was pillowed against the crook of her arm. Coral lips pressed into a faint pout as her eyes roved beneath the thin, delicate skin of her eyelids. it seemed to him as if even in her dreams Sakura was stuck reading whatever she’d been working on before drifting off. Her hair, longer than it had been when she was 15, spilled over her shoulder and curled against the papers below.
Sasori prided himself on having excellent recollection so it was of no surprise that he could recall with clarity the first time he took notice of Sakura and every time after.
In the third match of the Chūnin exams Kankurō was set against some Konoha-nobody he could never be bothered to recall. The outcome had been exactly as Sasori expected even as he kept an ear and eye on the rest of the onlookers. He didn’t trust Orochimaru or his second in command but Rasa had already made his decision, unwise as it was and things were to proceed as planned. Not one to ignore his instincts, Sasori's head had been full of contingency plans in the event of an almost inevitable double cross.
Even if he had not been looking for an excuse to work his way out of the oncoming mess, the loud complaints of one of Kakashi’s more obnoxious students did not go unheard; “How is two versus one not cheating?!”
“To begin with, there are only two people in the ring. The other one isn’t a person, it's like...a doll.” The one with pink hair, looking rather like she’d been chewed up and spit out during 2nd phase sighed as she explained. Of those who had survived the forest, she had come out looking worse for wear. Sasori’s team had come out completely unscathed—just as expected.
“They call it puppet technique, that doll he used was no different than you or I using a shuriken or a kunai. It's only a tool that he controls via chakra.” She’d said. The explanation only stuck in his mind because ninja puppetry was a Sunagakure specialty in the same way the Sharingan or the Byakugan would normally only be found in Shinobi who originated from Konohagakure. A genin being able to recognize what she was seeing meant that she was at the very least well informed, unlike her companion.
“What a bunch of weirdos, dattebayo...”
“You’re one to talk.” Kakashi had replied and he, having not quite tuned them out could hear the girl giggling. “Ah, Sakura-chan...now’s not the time to laugh. Take a look. You’re up.” The careless twittering stopped cold. Haruno Sakura Vs Yamanaka Ino was displayed on the screen.
There had been some yammering about Uchiha Sasuke between the two of them that Sasori rolled his eyes at recalling because during that exam even Temari had subtly admired the boy for reasons beyond him. Most of what he recalled from that fight had been the two girls wailing on one another with fists and rudimentary techniques. The only occurrence of any substance was that Sakura had thrown a Yamanaka out of her head through willpower alone. It would have been a more impressive feat if it weren’t clear how pathetic a member of the clan that other girl was.
The match ended in a double knockout and so far there had not been a single Konoha genin worth noting. Even Hatake’s star pupil, the same one Orochimaru was so desirous of, seemed unimpressive compared to his students. Sasori didn't think much of Sasuke back then and he thought even worse of him in the present day.
Admittedly he had not thought much of Sakura back then, or anyone really.
Temari had proceeded to the arena after that, completing a swift and brutal victory over her opponent. ‘The old guard of Konoha are losing it if they think their genin are up to snuff.’ he’d thought, recognizing how soft, how inexperienced they all were.
It would later become clear to him that Hatake’s team was also in possession of a sealed beast of which the vessel had better control than Gaara though he ran his mouth and fought in the most undisciplined manner Sasori had ever seen. Perhaps due to his unpredictability, Naruto had racked up a win that would later turn to three if one counted his unofficial match against Gaara.
The ninth match set his youngest cousin against the Bowl-Cut in green spandex. Gaara’s defense was meant to be impenetrable—though there were ways around it as evidenced by the sight of it struggling to cope with the speed and force his opponent displayed when he’d removed his self imposed handicap. Using only taijutsu Lee had given Gaara a beating he had not expected.
“He’s gonna lose it.” Kankurō had whispered in fear, sweat threatening to make streaks through the ridiculous paint he insisted on wearing.
In the past, whenever the boy had lost control the methods to subdue him had always been more passive than outright aggressive. Smothering and suffusing the boy’s sand with iron or gold, making it heavier to wield so that a sedative could be administered had been Sasori’s preferred method. A sleep so deep not even Shukaku could float to the surface. By the time Gaara woke from the respite his control was better...for a time. The boy could go an unnatural period without sleep but eventually he too had to seek oblivion. Unwillingly or otherwise.
Gaara took payment in kind for the pounding, crushing the boy’s arm and leg. He would have taken more if it hadn’t been for the interference of Lee’s mentor.
“But why?” The sand armor clinging to Gaara’s face was chipped and cracked as he clutched his head. “Why save him?” He’d asked.
“Because he is my precious student.”
Those were words that Gaara could not comprehend. Students meant nothing to Sasori beyond an investment of precious time and endless annoyances. True, he had never been particularly desirous to see them struck down or killed by their own stupidity, not out of sentimentality but due to the headaches and blot to his reputation that such an occurrence would cause. It didn’t mean they were important to him despite their blood ties. ‘I do my duty to them and expect obedience in return.’ It was a simple arrangement of give and take.
Temari and Kankurō had both startled at the statement, peering at him from the corners of their eyes when they believed he wasn’t paying attention. ‘Idiots.’ He’d thought, watching as a sense of calm seemed to wash over Gaara once more, prepared to walk away from the match he’d already won.
Beaten and clearly out of his mind with pain Lee had risen to his feet, intent on finishing a match he couldn’t win only to be held back by the teacher that had saved his life.
“Sakura, don’t!” Hatake’s voice warned and Sasori turned again to catch sight of the girl, Unimpressive as she was, the girl was poised to lunge down into the arena. “Consoling him will only make this loss harder. There is nothing that you can say.” A moment passed and the determination to defy her teacher faded into resignation, her shoulders slumping.
There was a whirl of sand and Gaara filled the space between himself and Temari, face placid even when Sasori had no doubt that the boy’s head was an invisible battleground. “Welcome back Gaara...I knew you’d win.” The eldest sibling said in a rare moment of pride without fear.
The boy made no noise in reply, lips twisted into a frown as he watched his opponent being carted off in a stretcher. “You’ve done well.” Sasori had admitted. His student had encountered unexpected resistance and retained his restraint despite its shaking foundation, a modicum of praise was deserved for it. There was an odd look one could have described as hunger in Gaara’s eyes at the words and Sasori had assumed it was simply the Ichibi within him imagining how it would feel to snap his bones within its maw. ‘Best of luck.’ he’d thought to the creature.
It would be some time before he realized all the boy wanted was more praise, to be seen as something valued. Just like the boy he’d almost crushed.
The last preliminary match wasn’t even worth remembering--Sasori had only the vague recollection of some rotund child being blown into a wall by one of Orochimaru’s little rats.
There was a month between the preliminaries and the finals his students were slated to fight in. A month that Sasori spent doing subtle recon around the village and spreading out his threads, trying to get ahead of whatever Orochimaru might have been up to and anyone else who might realize too soon that Sunagakure was making moves in the shadows. He despised the thought of being blindsided from any angle and he certainly did not want to be caught between two forces. Which was why when a Konoha-nin was found to be spying, he’d assured Kabuto that he would kill him only to do a bit of double crossing of his own.
“You’re one of the proctors.” Sasori had said upon studying the coughing man. “You picked an awful night for moon viewing.”
The blade being pulled from its scabbard hardly made a whisper. “I don’t know about that...I certainly saw something illuminating.”
It was over before it began.
Sasori didn’t bother unsealing a puppet—he had no intention of a full on fight, not yet at least. The throw of a senbon, so thin and so light it was more for acupuncture than for combat was neither seen nor felt when it was embedded with pin-point accuracy to the man’s neck. While the drug slowed his movements Sasori twisted from the blade, waiting for the inevitable collapse. It took two minutes of artful dodging until his opponent dropped. “It won’t kill you,” He admitted, crouching over the prone man’s form. “But I do have to make things...convincing.” The kunai he’d fished from his side pouch caught the light, the image of it was reflected back to him in the man’s dark eyes.
“A missing limb is really a small price to pay.” The drug the senbon had been drenched in numbed and paralyzed the body but not the mind. “By now you know that Sunagakure and Orochimaru are working together and considering he was once a member of your village, you ought to know best of all what sort of person that man is.” Sasori made quick work of severing the man’s arm from the elbow down. “By the time your senses have returned Konoha will either have been crushed, or Suna will have been betrayed. If it's the latter, You’ll be my insurance.” And if it was the former he could always correct his choice.
He kept Gekkō sedated the rest of that month, hidden away in some hole in the ground as he waited to see which way the winds would blow. Time would prove him right about Orochimaru, the man was brilliant but loyal only to himself and his goals—a trait that Sasori might have sympathized with if the events hadn’t threatened to pull him down too. Truthfully he had admired the man’s mind on many levels but despised his predilection for chaos that went against his orderly preferences but the thing Orochimaru was most guilty of in Sasori’s eyes was that the snake thought he could lie to him and get away with it.
That was the worst sort of sin.
Sakura probably didn’t recall that he’d come into her family's herbal shop after running low on his own ingredients in treating the missing limb of one of her village comrades. It would not surprise him. She hadn’t bothered to look up from the Genjutsu scroll she’d been laboring over even as she measured out the wormwood and goldenseal he’d requested. Sasori remembered because he’d already made a judgement about her skillset and it didn’t include aptitude for genjutsu. ‘Not when it requires advanced intelligence and precise control.’ He’d thought.
To his future delight, Sasori turned out to be very wrong about those assumptions.
From the offset he’d disagreed with Rasa’s decision to ally himself with Orochimaru, he’d argued strongly that rather than pitting themselves against Konoha and running the risk of another war when they were already in crisis they should simply get rid of the source of their problem; The Daimyo. It would have been a simple thing for the man to have an accident and to raise one of his bastards to the position. Then, Suna would have a more sympathetic, more easily controlled purse holder. Everyone but the dead man would benefit.
His uncle had disagreed; it was dishonorable Rasa had said when considering the alliance Orochimaru proposed. Sasori had nearly laughed, the idea that a man who had willingly sacrificed his own wife and child thinking he knew something about honor struck the chord of his shriveled sense of humor. Rasa, who thought what he had done to his own son was justified by his village's desperate straits, somehow considered assassinating a Daimyo beneath him. Even to someone like Sasori, the man’s priorities were skewed but that decision was one that would end his uncle’s life.
The Yondaime Kazekage may have been his uncle, but there was little tying them together beyond shared genetics and an unwanted responsibility to three children. Sasori had always been of the opinion that if one were to do something, they ought to do it to the best of their ability and he applied that mindset to mentoring them even if he were unenthused at the idea from the offset.
Sasori, as in the way his nature dictated, made his own plans aside from the orders he was given. Afterall, One never got far if they simply did as they were told and nothing more. He didn’t mourn his uncle’s death when word was delivered by one of his contacts. Instead he took silent offense to Orochimaru wearing Rasa’s face, as though he wouldn't notice the discrepancies.
The news of their father’s death was kept from his cousins, He didn’t need them any more emotionally charged or stressed then they already were—not with how things were shaping up. It would have been poor management with low yield results so Sasori gave them new orders to carry out as soon as Kabuto made his move. They were to leave without causing any casualties so that whatever destruction ensued would be done by Orochimaru and a dead Kazekage alone.
“I don’t understand the original plan was--”
“You don’t have to understand. You only have to follow orders, Kankurō. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Sasori sipped his tea the morning before the finals, face inscrutable as he took in the confusion on the middle sibling’s face. “Gaara.” There was a far off look in the youngest’s eyes that never boded well.
Teal eyes dragged their way from the wall they had been staring at.
“Maintain yourself.” The words were sharp, but his eyes were sharper and a long prolonged period of eye contact ensued. Gaara blinked first and he moved on to instructing Temari.
Temari only scowled and waved her hand. “I already got it. Kabuto gives the signal, we drop everything and wait for you at the rendezvous point.” She had always been the least fussy of her siblings but also the most willing to take an attitude.
Sasori would later station himself in the stands during the final match where he had a clear view of Gaara’s control splintering just as Kabuto dropped a high level genjutsu over the stadium and its spectators. Civilians and shinobi alike fell into a deep sleep beneath falling feathers. The majority of those who resisted the sway were Chūnin level or above. Sakura was awake and aware as her village descended into discord and he set his focus on mitigating the damage.
“What on earth is going on?” The instructor that he recognized as stepping between his student and the Bowl-Cut spoke.
“Are you lot that slow on the uptake? Your village is being attacked.” Sasori had sneered, watching the oto-nin that were fast approaching. The scrolls that sealed two of his puppets unfurled, sounding like silk snapping tight as they exploded into smoke. He would scale the level of puppets up as and if needed. Orochimaru’s foot soldiers were going for the weakest first, but they never made it. Instead their heads rolled away from their necks with the swing of a spring loaded blade. “I guess you’re not completely talentless after all.” He could admit that his first assumption in the herbal shop might have been wrong if she’d managed to avoid falling prey to the genjutsu.
“Did you know about this?” Hatake wondered, the lank way he held himself was a lie to the tension in his eyes.
Sasori could remember shrugging, fingers still directing his puppets. “It's not as though you didn’t have your suspicions, you knew Orochimaru was lurking around and you still allowed things to proceed. Now that boy's racing off on his own, giving that snake a perfect opportunity.” The copy-nin tensed, but realized that he had no need to defend himself against the puppet master and turned to dispatch his own round of enemies. “By the way, I know where the person formerly attached to that arm is.” He might have smirked at the stiffening of the jounin’s shoulders.
Hatake breathed deeply, lone eye flicking to give a look of annoyance in his direction even when they both knew how ineffectual it was. “Sakura, nullify the genjutsu on Naruto and Shikamaru... it's been awhile since you’ve had a mission and the one I’m about to give you is an A-rank. Your first since Wave country.”
The notion that she’d been on any A-rank missions had been surprising. She’d seemed too soft, too inexperienced.
“Is this really the time for that? What kind of mission?” She’d asked, crouched behind a series of seats as bodies were launched over her head.
“Sasuke is in pursuit of Gaara and the others from Suna, you are to wake those two up and track him down—he can’t be left on his own as things are.”
Sasori almost laughed. “I told my students to vacate this village peacefully. Gaara may be… in the throes of something but I highly advise you not to chase after them. Are you trying to get your entire cell killed? Better to lose one rather than all three along with someone else's student.” In his opinion it was careless of the other man.
“Forgive me If I don’t take your word for it Akasuna No Sasori.”
“You’re a dunce as always Hatake.” He’d replied before turning to Sakura. “Little Girl, you’d best stay out of Gaara’s way if you want all your internal organs unruptured.” That was the only advice he had to give.
Sasori would go on to hear from his students how she had completely disregarded his words and nearly gotten herself squished to a pulp of flesh and splintered bone. “She reminded me of Yashamaru…that look.” Gaara had said, palms pressed to his eyes.
“I can’t make up my mind on whether she was brave or supremely stupid.” Temari mumbled under her breath. “To hold her ground against Gaara like he was…”
Stupid had been his assumption, what sort of idiot put their life in danger for someone else? It seemed to be a disease Konoha-Shinobi were replete with.
“He said that we...were the same. That what gave him purpose, what chased away the emptiness...were those around him. I want to become like that.” Gaara had whispered and from that moment on Naruto became a guiding star that his eyes followed. His idolship was so great he wanted to become Kazekage and spent a few weeks scowling when he heard the position was to go to his elder cousin instead.
Hubris alone had not been why Sasori correctly assumed that Suna’s council would seek to make him the next Kage when they came in need of one. He was the oldest and in his veins ran the same blood as those who came before him. He may not have been in possession of Magnet Release himself but the probability of his offspring possessing it were as high as his three cousin’s. Not that he had ever needed it, the Third so graciously donating his body to Sasori’s...research as he neared the end of his life had put the bloodline limit within his arsenal even when biology had decreed it not to be.
20 at the time, he was more experienced, smarter and certainly more stable than the other options. ‘And the strongest.’ In the end it was obvious to him who the task of leading Suna would fall to and while Sasori personally preferred to lead from the shadows and work unseen from the sidelines there was a certain allure that came with the thought of rebuilding things as he pleased. There would, of course, be many times in which he cursed his decision not to fake his death during the failed invasion.
“You should have expected this.” He recalled telling Gaara at the time. “You are not even 13 and until recently you were periodically insane. If you want to become Kazekage so badly you ought to show them you’re capable of it.” Sasori may have had a rightfully gained reputation for a lack of care regarding his fellow human beings but he was also known for being logical and more or less sane where it counted. He’d never committed a barbaric series of murders and massive destruction of property...in his own village. “Stop making faces at me and go mend bridges or whatever it is reformed psychopaths like to do.” He had no intention of reforming and thus gave the process little thought. “I have actual work.”
The family dinners started shortly after that conversation to his great vexation.
Time passed and both Sunagakura and Konohagakure took on new Kage’s, both fifth in the line. Overtures of peace were made through intermediaries and letters. He even sent his students as support when Hatake’s little Uchiha left seeking Orochimaru—news that he might have had a mental laugh over. ‘For all that talk about trash abandoning their comrades it turned out he was favoring a piece of garbage all along.’ Meanwhile he’d let Sakura and the other one languish under his poor care. ‘Although I suppose in the end everything was as exactly as it needed to be.’ The woman he coveted would not be who she was otherwise.
Sasori had a very low opinion of the vast majority of people he had the displeasure to meet and Sasuke was no exception even before his eyes turned to Sakura in a less than clinical manner. ‘I don’t begrudge a person wanting to leave their village but that boy is soft in the head and high on unearned arrogance.’ He was of the opinion then and now that everything had been handed to Sasuke in life and that he had never actually worked to receive any of it. ‘Several of his own classmates nearly died retrieving him and if it hadn’t been for Suna’s intervention…’ Sometimes he regretted the day he’d given his students leave for that mission.
Still, returning and catching the boy had gone a long way in smoothing things over in negotiations just as sparing Hayate Gekkō had been intended to do—though to date the swordmaster was still complaining endlessly about his missing arm even after Sasori had personally crafted him a prosthetic. While talks were proceeding cordially it was decided that nothing would be agreed upon until the new leaders spoke face to face. ‘Of course Tsunade’s wording was a little less civil.’ The then new Hokage had written that she only dealt with conniving two-faced bastards when they were in the same room as her. A perfectly good rule of thumb as far as Sasori was concerned.
That was how he came upon Sakura in their next meeting—surprised once more to see that girl sitting in the hallway, propped up on a stack of books bigger than she was with her face buried in the pages of some massive tome. It’d been almost a year but he had a good memory and noted her hair was longer than the almost boyish mess it had been the last time he saw her. His eyes glimpsed the title of the book, more than familiar to him considering he’d spent a fair bit of time studying it in his youth.
A page was flipped and even though he was clearly standing and staring she didn’t bother to look up. Clearly mistaking him for someone else because when she finally deigned to speak to him it was without even a modicum of respect. “Shove off pig.”
Sasori was rather sure that was the first time he could recall ever being referred to as such a creature. “My, haven’t you gotten mouthy little girl.” The moment she looked up and realized who was standing in front of her, the color bleached from her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes made them seem all the wider as she glanced up in horror.
“I uh...didn’t mean you.” The expression she’d been making morphed, lips twisting into an awkward smile.
Obviously. “Does someone like you even comprehend what they're reading?” He’d asked because while he had already recognized that she wasn’t completely stupid Sasori was not sold on the idea that she’d be able to put into practice what the multitude of books and scrolls she was currently surrounded by contained.
“Like me?” Sakura’s teeth were bared for a few seconds as she parroted the words. ”And yes, I do understand it.” Her eyes were fiercely narrowed at him, hackles raised.
If she were so confident there was no reason not to test her. “There is a person suffering from the effects of a chemical nerve agent. What would be the main ingredient to the cure?”
Sakura hadn’t hesitated with her reply. “Atropine, which can be found in mandrake and other species of nightshade alone with pralidoxime chloride injected into the muscles—repeated treatments might be necessary for best results.”
It was a more in depth answer than he had asked for but most importantly it was correct. “Adequate.” Sasori was once more in the midst of reevaluating his opinion of the girl he kept selling short when the door to Tsunade’s office swung open. “Why,” he’d asked in the middle of the meeting when the subject of students came up. “Is that genin parked out your door looking like she’s about to be buried under reading material?”
“My new apprentice.” Tsunade shrugged and drank the Sake he’d refused to take. “Stubborn little thing...Honestly when she first came to me I assigned her more material than I thought she could possibly learn in a week all in the hopes it’d scare her off. Sakura came back four days later and asked for more.” She gave a short laugh. “How could I refuse that talent and dedication? And she kinda reminded me of myself when I was just a kid. Desperate to be something more than I was, it wasn’t easy being that man’s granddaughter...”
“Just because she can memorize the information doesn’t mean she can utilize it under pressure.”
“Oh,” Tsunade had grinned, all teeth. “She can, I’d know; All her exams are given under simulated combat conditions. Give Sakura a few years and I bet she’ll give you and your granny a run for your money.”
“The old bat? Maybe. Me?” Sasori didn’t even bother to mask the ungracious curl of his lip.
“Never.” he’d scoffed. "You should refrain from making bets with your reputation."
Scowling at the mention of her propensity for losing, her cup hit the table with a clack. “Why the interest in her?” Tsunade had wondered after a moment. “Did she say something to you?”
“Her tournament match in the last Chūnin selection was embarrassing.” After a moment he reconsidered the indictment and added to it; “Most of Konoha’s genin were. I simply expected more from Hatake’s students.”
Tsunade made a vague noise that sounded somewhat like a muffled snort. “A student needs a proper teacher to truly cultivate their talents, Kakashi is a good Jōnin...but I think his own experiences clouded his judgment when it came to teaching. Despite those shortcomings I think he taught her quite a few important lessons.”
Sasori spent very little time considering what those lessons were but since their talks were scheduled to take place over a series of days and Sakura seemed permanently camped outside the doors he took the time to see just how knowledgeable she was on the information she was consuming. Everyday it was a new question and out of the five she’d only been wrong once.
“No.” He’d said, regarding her answer about some formulae—the reply was a droop in her shoulders. “Using suma root would negate the sedative properties. You have until I finish this meeting to figure out a more appropriate combination.” None of his students had any skill with biological sciences like chemistry. Kankurō tried for a while but he’d been a poor student with a mind more inclined towards machinery. As such Sasori’s vast expertise in the area was seldom shared and he never begrudged a person’s attempt at remedying their own ignorance.
Sakura had seemed surprised at the leniency but nodded once and went about studying the long list of ingredients she’d written out. By the time he had returned she’d come up with a more acceptable answer.
“Valerian and Columbine.” She’d piped up, teeth worrying her lips.
“Better.” He couldn’t recall any of his students smiling like that before—then again he’d always taught them that showing too much emotion was like giving someone a primer in what made them tick. Sasori acknowledged that the girl was at the very least clever under the right tutelage.
At the end of that week Sasori caught sight of her walking the hallways, clothes tattered and working a series of rather large splinters out of her forearm. “Losing fights with trees now?” her hair was a tangled mess and there was dried blood flecking off from where it had dripped down her chin and neck. Apparently too tired to muster the effort it took to glare at him as she’d done the last time he’d mocked her abilities, Sakura grunted in reply.
“No, more like I lost to the person punching trees and turning them into shrapnel, expecting me to dodge every little piece...and then hitting me in the gut when I followed my protect-your-eyes instinct…” She sighed when the piece of wood was worked out of her skin and tossed the bit into the trash. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything, I understand how important it is that I avoid taking as much damage as possible...A dead medic doesn’t heal and all that. It's just such a pain. Literally. ” her hand took on a green glow as she laid it over the gaping hole. “I really only have myself to blame for not moving faster.”
It had not been long since Sasori had last seen her and she was already on to using Mystical Palm—there were not many in Suna who could use it and even less who did it well, one of which being his grandmother. “It seems that you thrive under a more brutal training regime.” If he knew anything about Kakashi at all it was that he was probably as unenthused about training a team as he had been, only Sasori made an effort to do even the things he hated well.
There was a blink and a tilt of her head as she considered the comment. “I guess I do.” Sakura giggled, the hand ruffling the back of her hair loosening a few twigs and leaves to scatter the floor. “Makes for good practice, knowing that it’s going to hurt if I fail to dodge…”
“Sasori-sama?” Shizune called from the open doorway she was standing in. “Sakura, Tsunade-sama said you did well today. if you still need help with the rest of that, come see me later.”
Sakura's hand stilled and her eyes went wide. “She did? Ah no, I’m fine there are no broken bones this time!” She bowed in his direction and then skipped off humming to herself.
He couldn’t recall seeing someone so happy to be used as a splinter-cushion, but it might have been that she was more pleased to be covered in wood slivers rather than sporting broken bones.
Things steadily improved between the two villages, Suna became the next host to the upcoming Chūnin exams. His own students had received field promotions from unbiased parties. Promoting them himself ran the risk of putting their skills and readiness into question and he could never have that, not when it would have reflected badly on his own talents.
One of his first orders of business had been to alleviate the fiscal issues that threatened to capsize the village, Rasa had been driven to desperation by those issues but Sasori, having run the risk-reward ratio in his head a few times over had come to a solution and all he had to do was bide his time and then whisper in the right ear. In the meantime he made nice and smiled like he wasn’t planning an assassination. It was easy enough and in the interim he used the network he’d created to supplement Suna’s budget. Information could sell for a higher price than gold to the right buyer.
Suna’s hosting of the exams went far smoother than Konoha’s, by the end the casualties only numbered 4 and one was a complete accident. Some pathetic genin from Iwa had managed to get bitten by a scaled viper during the 2nd phase of the exam and the time to administer the antivenom had simply run out on them. As much as he enjoyed watching adolescent children and teens beat one another near to death Sasori did not enjoy the extra work.
Using Sandaime’s abilities to create a third eye had proven tricky in the ealiest days of wielding his creation, back when he had first begun to test the limits of what his volunteer subject could achieve but as with most things, practice made perfect. There was a slight downside in that the consumption of chakra was greater than it would be in one who naturally possessed magnet release and so he shared the surveillance duties with the only other resident user.
“One of the teams has encountered a giant scorpion.” Gaara paused, finger pressed over his lid in concentration.
Giant was a bit of a misnomer, they were massive. Bigger than elephants, twice as long and exceedingly rare with carapaces as hard as thick iron plates. Their venom was not particularly strong, acidic enough to melt flesh with prolonged exposure and due to their size the amount produced was rather large. Sasori had hunted one in his youth and used the shell to craft Hiruko.
Gaara’s shoulder’s stiffened for a moment. “It’s dead.” He’d said, blinking and dispersing the view of whatever he’d been witnessing. “...I should apologize.”
The statement confused Sasori because he certainly would have remembered being wronged by someone, then he thought for a moment that the statement regarded the attempt his cousin’s kept making to ambush him at dinner time. “I don’t accept.” They were increasingly annoying, bringing their grandmother into things with their sudden desire for a more harmonious family. He’d been fine with how things were before, preferred it.
“I didn’t mean you, I meant Naruto's teammate.” Gaara had been upset to notice that the other boy was not in attendance. “The one I almost killed last time...I don’t remember her name.” If Sasori were more familiar with the emotion he might have recognized the tone his former student spoke in as shame.
The idea of apologizing to someone for almost killing them, or even fully killing them was a new concept he didn't have a taste for but he reasoned that perhaps what Gaara should feel bad for was losing control of himself—Killing and being killed were built in to their lifestyle but the lack of discipline he’d displayed was a disgrace. “Haruno Sakura.” He’d found it prudent to know the apprentice of a fellow kage and he’d seen and spoken to her enough to memorize it even if he refused to use it. “...She killed the scorpion?”
“Hm.”
Further details had not been forthcoming but the question of how would become clear later.
There was the customary month-long period following the second phase, time for political figures to make the trip if they were so inclined. It was somewhere at the end of that pause, just before the tournaments were set to begin that he happened to hear Gaara’s attempt at apologizing.
In those days It wasn’t uncommon for Sasori to overlay himself with a genjutsu in an effort to avoid people he didn’t want to deal with—which was most people. For whatever reason the moment he became Godaime half the village seemed to take it as a license to bother him with complete nonsense. They seemed to think that just because he had to be civil to foreign leaders he’d suddenly be more personable to everyone else.
A complete mistake on their part.
He walked hidden among the streets to one of the few shops he trusted enough to consume anything from. It was mostly lingering childhood attachment, the familiar taste of the lotus buns and setting that made him partial to the spot.
Sitting at one of the shaded tables with her two replacement teammates, Sakura stared up at Gaara and his flanking siblings, shock plain on her face. The agar jelly to her anmitsu slid off her spoon. "I'm sorry, what?"
“I am sorry for almost killing you...and that other one.”
“Which other one?” The girl next to her snarked. “Sasuke-kun, or Lee-san? You know she had bruised bones and—”
“Ino-pig.” Sakura shushed her with a raised hand and stood from her seat. The fat one simply looked on, mouth stuffed with sesame balls to the point he looked like a chipmunk
“Both of them...” Gaara’s body was still as a stone. “I understand that in our line of work there will be times I have no choice but to kill but that was not the case then. I was...” Whatever he meant to say was cut off by the peaceable hand held between them.
“These guys, after Sasuke-kun had his...episode, they came to help. Without him, without them people could have died. What happened before that doesn’t matter,” Sakura wiggled her fingers expectantly only for Gaara to continue looking at it in confusion. “For what was done to me, you’re forgiven...this would be the part where we shake hands and forget about it.” She said after too much time had passed. Gaara glanced behind him at his siblings, seeking some sort of moral support which apparently came as a thumbs up from Kankurō. Then the two proceeded with an awkward handshake.
As a person who held grudges of the well earned sort, that easy acceptance was somewhat striking but not dislikable. It was a utilitarian sort of forgiveness he could see the sense in. Sasori had tuned the rest of the conversation out as soon as the name Naruto slipped out of Gaara’s mouth. He certainly appreciated not having to worry that his youngest student might have a psychotic break at the wrong time of the month and start foaming at the mouth, screaming about his so-called mother but he also could have done without the sudden desperate need for approval and peer-bonding he exhibited.
There were even more wannabe Chūnin than the last selection exam, enough so that no one from the same village would be fighting someone they knew from home during the preliminaries.
The bowl-cut with the massive eyebrows was in the ring again and Sasori had little doubt that the spandex wearer would advance to the next rank when all was done given how he had performed against Gaara the last time. “Your work I presume?” He asked without looking at the woman next to him, distinctly recalling the hubbub about how his student's rough treatment during their fight had ended Lee's career.
“Right in one.” Tsunade replied, gaze set forward as Lee launched his opponent into the air.
On the terrace below him he could hear the chorus of cheers that coincided with each blow delivered.
“You sure seem to like him.” Temari’s voice reached his ears and he didn’t have to see her face to know the haughty smirk it possessed.
It shouldn’t have been surprising that she gravitated towards them—specifically Sakura after her easygoing response to a prior attempt on her life by a sibling that Temari had fast developed a protectiveness for. The three of them were never in possession of a wealth of companions their age and while it would have been easy to blame it all on Gaara’s instability, their family was simply known for its prickly, abrasive personalities irregardless of poorly sealed tailed-beasts.
Temari for instance took enjoyment out of making people squirm, or trying to--the teasing tone seemed to fly right over Sakura’s head.
“I admire him.” The other Kunoichi clarified. “Lee-san helped me out once at great risk to himself--he’s a good person and when I see him trying hard like he always does it inspires me. People like Lee and I don’t come from illustrious families or in-born natural talent...whatever gains we make are because of hard work and dedication. Him more so than me.”
When her time to fight came Sakura’s declaration about hard work proved to be true. The way that she fought was nothing like he remembered, faster and more intuitive as she pirouetted and flipped herself out of range of a sword stroke. There was a finesse and surety that she had lacked the last time he saw her fight. Never taking her eyes away from the Kirigakure-nin she was fighting, the match ended when she slid beneath a swinging blade and caught him with the side of her hand in the back of the neck. His body crumpled to the packed earth.
She went on to the final rounds, paired against a kunoichi from Kumogakure who was well versed in lighting release, enough so that Sakura was having a hard time closing the gap between them. She was trained as a close distance fighter and the space between her and the lightning user was expansive due to the ground crackling with electricity. For a time it seemed as if the two were stuck at a stalemate until the Konoha-nin reared her elbow back and sent her fist hurtling into the floor.
The stadium shook and for a split second he wondered if a giant scorpion had tunneled its way beneath the arena and was preparing to burst forth. The ground split and splintered, sucking inward on itself and capsizing, dragging the Kumo-Kunoichi into the undertow as cracks began to fissure their way up the walls. His eyes took in the epicenter of where the damage had begun once the dust settled and saw Sakura adjusting her gloves from where she stood over her unconscious opponent.
The way that Tsunade fought was legendary and difficult to master; precise amounts of chakra fed into the limbs to enhance strength and when concentrated into her hands and feet it could then be expelled with force like an explosion just before impact. Sasori had never seen it in action. “And you call yourselves women with that sort of strength.” he mumbled. The ability—for a lack of better word, was truly an awe inspiring sight. Sakura’s limbs and frame didn’t look like they should have been capable of the feat and coming from where she had started the turnaround was praiseworthy.
“And you call yourself a man with those noodle arms.” Tsunade mocked in turn.
“I should make you pay for repairs.” Sasori’s face remained blank even as the fissures continued to grow, confident that his arms were perfectly muscled for his skillset and body type. “Did she have to be so extreme? Now we must postpone the rest of the matches to check the structure.” Destroying the arena had solved Sakura’s problem of distance without risking her wellbeing but he was impatient for the exams to be over so that Suna would be rid of all its extra bustle.
“Pay for the damages your ragtag team and slipshod plans caused my village first.” Tsunade rebuffed, crossing her arms. ”She used more Chakra than necessary.” She said after a moment, offering some honest critique. “It’s something she’ll get better with as her experience grows. Until very recently she was having trouble using it in actual combat. It takes a lot of concentration and delicate manipulation.”
He wondered if it was more difficult than spinning chakra into threads so thin most eyes couldn’t see them. “They weren’t my plans.” By his count Sakura had only begun to mentor under Tsunade less than a year ago and by any standard her progress was impressive, even if she needed to refine her abilities a bit more he was of the opinion that she was prepared for advancement given what he’d seen and knew from their prior meetings. “You’ve done well in instructing her, a teacher truly does shape the student.” He wondered at the stinging in his torso.
“Everything you see was there to begin with,” The Hokage replied, smiling down at the victor she had trained. “She only needed someone to take notice and point the way.”
Sasori could still recall how brilliantly the girl had smiled about it, like the image was seared into his corneas and all because he’d said she was probably the most improved out of her academy classmates. Gloved hands clutched to her chest as if in prayer, eyes gleaming and rosy-cheeked as she cheered. In those days, he was of the opinion that she emoted far too easily for someone in their profession.