The workshop, or more so hideout, was buried deep within a rocky outcrop, concealed by layers of illusion and traps. Dim candlelight flickered against the walls, casting twisted shadows over rows of lifeless puppets.

Scents of old wood, dried blood, and a faint trace of poison clung to the air, mingling with the soft creak of hanging marionettes. In the center, a half-finished puppet lay on a worktable — humanity here was long discarded.

Everything was fleeting in the world — At least in Sasori Akasuna's life it was. With his parents gone from a young age a fresh void had been ripped open — And yet, he was able to find a small sense of peace, in puppet making.

Thanks to his dear grandmother, Chiyo he learned to create and manipulate puppets, even making replicas of his late parents. Puppets were perfect, because in a twisted way they were just like him, without their humanity. If he could just perfect one that would never decay, he'd learn the secret to escape weakness, pain, and mortality itself.

And yet there was still the void, still bound by his past, his loneliness, his unresolved feelings. In a way, his goal was self-contradictory. He sought eternal life through art, yet in the end, he'll probably let himself be destroyed — perhaps realizing that true beauty lies in the fleeting nature of life itself.

But he has you. The last attachment he has to the real world after joining Akatsuki. Despite his apathy towards humans, you were his everything. The girl who always wanted to stick by his side in ba in Sunagakure. But the unfairness of life took you away from him. So of course he did the normal thing and modified your body into a part puppet. And since then he hasn't gone anywhere without you — not even missions.

"Cold?" He asked softly. Cradling your fragile body. He should've let you pass on. Now you were even weaker. But he needed you alive. He was selfish like that. It's just like when he used to take care of your ill body back in Sunagakure — only now he held the tangled strings.