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On a good day traveling from one end of the Akasuna estate to the next could be a trek especially for someone who hadn’t spent a lifetime living in it. Every head of every generation seemed to make it their mission to renovate or add on to what had once been a stalwart fortress on a desolate cliffside. Architecturally it was bizarre and took from a multitude of cultures. According to Granny Chiyo somewhere within the family history a foreigner had washed up on the coast of Wind and quickly made himself known as The Bloody and it wasn’t just because of the hair color that continued to resurface in the family tree. ‘Oh no, he landed on shore and proceeded to become a veritable warlord.’ Sakura sniggered to herself because the Akasuna and the Subaku who shared that same ancestor had a saying about redheads.
‘The brighter the color the more unhinged they are.’ She stopped abruptly. Laughing or breathing too deeply was strictly prohibited for the time being. ‘I should have gotten Kakuzu to carry me.’ With the hefty sum he was being paid Sakura shouldn’t have felt bad for entertaining the idea but she hadn’t grown up with a butler as a child and was always hesitant to ask him for anything. ‘Plus he charges for every ‘ extra ’ request!’ She balked at the prices and when asking Sasori why he kept such a man employed he’d shrugged and said; I wouldn’t hire just any bum off the street, even if he looks like one . He executes his...tasks promptly and satisfactorily. ‘ I guess it helps that the Akasuna have money to burn.’ Literally. She once saw Granny Chiyo light the great hearth with a bundle of USD when she couldn’t find more traditional kindling fast enough.
A tear had snaked its way down middle class Sakura’s cheek that night. ‘Well, at least I didn’t drop the tea-pot.’ Kakuzu took the rest of the evening off after that.
Some of the house seemed down right derelict with the cobwebs and rickety hardwood doors but the truth was that the family adored the macabre and utterly despised new trends. They thought the old, odd had character and Sakura couldn’t disagree. Despite centuries of change the original structure from which all the rest stemmed remained at the center like a pulsing heart wrapped with dark rib-vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows. From the outside the jagged gothic spires caught the eye especially when silhouetted against the full moon and on the inside there were stairwells that went nowhere at all, secret passages and occasionally used dungeons. ‘There is even a ballroom with a revolving floor and mirrors.’ Sakura had danced across it with her newly wed husband months ago; dizzy, breathless--euphoric even.
That night with the moon shining through the glass above them she’d been bedecked in silk and lace so delicate it seemed to melt into her skin. The tiny, intricate floral patterns had been spun so fine one might have thought a spider had done the work rather than her Grandmother-in-law. Even Sasori had to begrudgingly admit the old woman had outdone herself in his backhanded way.
She was still breathless but not exactly from joy, or awe. ‘More like exertion.’ And aggravation. ‘Of all the days!’ They’d had a very long honeymoon, mostly because Sasori kept finding reasons and ways to extend it. Darling, don’t you want to see Prague Castle? That's where the term defenestration was coined...He’d said and of course she’d wanted to see it. ‘And then there was the Orloj Clock…and the hike up to Poenari Citadel to the ruins of Vlad’s castle.’ They’d been all over Europe by the end with stops including the catacombs of Paris and the Chapel of Bones in Portugal.
Between the wedding, traveling and…’Ahem.’ Sakura shook the blush from her cheeks. ‘Well, we were busy.’ And as nice as it had all been she was happy to finally settle in and begin acclimating to everyday life, even if it was in a haunted castle-house. ‘Well, Sasori said that if any of the ghosts cause trouble we could just exorcise them…’ Like a ghost fumigation but for the most part the spooks simply moved things around which was fine because Granny Chiyo was teaching her to commune with the dead...and they did occasionally make the walls in the 3rd formal sitting room bleed like a hemophiliac--she’d yet to spot a clot, and she’d looked . ‘I sent samples to the lab and everything…’ It was real blood from a variety of sources, a fact that took some time to wrap her mind around.
Thus far things were more or less the same since moving in though she did have to be more careful about getting caught snogging her husband in the hallway by his Grandmother. Chiyo loved to tease her because getting a rise out of Sakura would by proxy elicit a response from Sasori who really would prefer to carry on as if they didn’t have an audience. ‘He’s shameless.’ But then she’d known that before walking down the aisle and fortunately she had enough embarrassment for the both of them along with some shame to spare. ‘At least one of us has to have a conscience, otherwise law enforcement will be after the both of us.’ Her nose tilted in the air just so as she thought to herself.
As happy as she was there were a few sudden... kinks that required attention. ‘Like tracking down said husband and contending with an unwanted interloper who moved in while we were away!’ And then of course there was the traditional portrait that she was due to be sitting for very shortly, Sakura strangled the piece of paper in her hand nervously. ‘And my roses!’ The head of every dark red bloom was missing off the stem, neatly cut at a perfect, precise angle and there was only one person she knew who worked that way and had the abominable nerve . That glass garden was meant to be hers, it was supposed to be her project and a source of stress relief. ‘So much for that.’ Sakura snorted derisively and then shuffled further down the hallway.
It was after Sakura had come around the crest of the main staircase, pausing for a rest midway through her laborious descent that she caught sight of her prey. “You!” She snapped, pointing a dark, arsenic green nail in his direction. The tails of the carved scorpion statues poised at the bottom of the steps made a lovely arch over Sasori’s slow to turn head. He took a glance at her and stopped midway in what she had no doubt were strident dictations to Kakuzu about exactly where he wanted the heavy, baroque chair that the butler and financial advisor was lugging across the grand foyer.
The way that Sasori froze, eyes growing fractionally wider as he took a secondary glance sent her heart into a frightful gallop. ‘Is that bad, is it good?’ Sakura still had a hard time telling. ‘I shouldn’t have decided to surprise him…This was almost as bad as picking a wedding dress!’ Fashion was simply not her forte. All at once there she was second guessing in the eleventh hour; What if he hated it, what if everyone who saw her portrait in the generations that followed thought it was ugly? ‘That I don’t belong...Oh! I should have known better than to trust Granny Chiyo, of course she’d say it looks fine!’ For a moment the thought of those poor headless flowers flew right out of her head.
“Me.” Sasori agreed, having smoothly scaled the stairs to meet her while she'd been fretting. They were nose to nose when his left thumb reverently ghosted over the length of her exposed clavicle, forcing Sakura out of her downward spiral. “I don’t remember you owning this.” Even without his photographic memory it would have been an impossible sight to forget due to the flesh of her sleek arms peeping through the thin lace that encased them and the neckline that dipped well beneath the swell of her breast, exposing a decent sliver of her breastbone to eager eyes.
Black as night, the dress clung seamlessly to every curve, accentuating the dip of her waist and swell of her hips. Sakura in his opinion, possessed an exceedingly lovely Os Coxae. ‘It's very evident in the X-rays.’ Sasori thought fondly, though he was so thoroughly smitten there was very little about her that he found unpleasant.
“It’s new.” The hand petting over her hip was very appreciative. ‘No! Don’t let him distract you!’ She slapped the back of his hand away. “You,” Sakura repeated and jabbed a finger into the center of his dark tie, right over top the scorpion stickpin. He blinked, the minute motion probably as close to flinching as he came. “Beheader! Blossom Bandit!” The last one just seemed to tickle Sasori’s warped funny bone if the snide quirk of his lips was to be judged. “Clip my plants again and I’ll roll you around in those thorns you left behind.” She vowed, the hand she’d been clutching that damn paper with fisted against her hip.
Cocking his head to the side, topaz eyes slunk down her form. “In that?” As tempting as Sasori found the thought he was very doubtful she could manage in her present attire--it hugged too tightly beyond the knees, alluring to be sure but hardly functional. “Of course you’d end up in the thicket with me but my , the fun we’d have.”
“No, not in this!” Sakura scowled, wishing she’d brought a rapier to keep him at arm's length. ‘If he weren’t so close it’d be much easier to stay angry.’ But the red currently breaking out across her cheeks had very little to do with rage, Sasori had taken the hand she’d been poking at him with and pressed his lips against the soft underside where her veins pulsed and thrummed. The heat of the touch sunk through gossamer cloth like there was nothing between her flesh and his.
His eyes gleamed, keenly catching the hitch in her breath. “Then perhaps in nothing?”
“If the two of you keep up with this filthy display I’m going to charge double for my emotional pain and suffering.” The clawed feet of the chair thumped against the spiral patterned floor.
Sakura took offense to that, she wasn’t doing anything filthy besides existing in Sasori’s line of sight. “This is hardly my fault.” She insisted, glaring over her husband’s shoulder.
“I’m not paying you to have emotions.” Sasori added, spiteful of the interruption. “Do it on your own time and I said put it further to my left.” Enduring daily misery was explicitly written in the contract and frankly something to be expected as long as one existed. ‘Unless one is lucky enough to find what makes the agony worthwhile.’ He was. ‘And sometimes pain is just pleasure with more bite.’
Kakuzu charged double for the unspoken Idiot that his employer’s tone betrayed and allowed the priceless piece of handcrafted furniture to screech against the marble floor. No matter where he put it Sasori seemed displeased. ‘I could be checking the stock market right now.’ Or budgeting the household expenses, or counting and cataloging ancient rare coinage. 'Murdering someone, burying their body, carving pumpkins, trimming the topiary into terrifying shapes so they can chase nuisances off the property...' Clearly there was a long list of things he could be doing.
Pursing her lips, Sakura considered pushing Sasori down the steps. ‘It is a bit early to be a widow…and he does cut quite the figure.’ Perhaps after the portrait she’d reconsider because really it would be a shame to let both of their efforts go to waste, the thin pinstripes of his suit did wonders to accentuate the limber form beneath. “You promised you wouldn’t meddle in there.”
“No,” Sasori disagreed. “I believe what I said was; I wouldn’t do anything without a reason .” She’d allowed him a loophole and he couldn’t be blamed for making use of it, that was simply in his nature.
“What reason could you possibly have to lop off the head of every red rose?” There was now just a thick mass of briar in between rows of white flowers. “It throws the entire symmetry off!” The paper in her shaking fist crinkled noisily. ‘He’s very lucky I don’t strangle him with that tie…’
Gardening was as close as she came to creating art , not that she really considered it in that light. To her it was like tending to a patient, if she were attentive and had the knowhow they’d improve and prosper and if she failed...well it was simply an opportunity to learn from her mistakes. Sasori had once said that her mastery of Langer’s lines and surgical incisions were no different than the brushstrokes of Rembrandt or Raphael but Sakura didn’t know a thing about that, what she did know was that he had a rather... skewed vision of art.
Some old families had suits of armor for ornamentation, the Akasuna had those and a taxidermied man--Sasori’s other great uncle if she recalled correctly--the youngest one. Apparently he’d willed his body as material for the young man’s hobby long before Sakura came into the picture. A perfectly normal person would have been disturbed at the thought of a stuffed corpse within their home, aghast at having seen it looming over the harpsichord and truthfully she did find it to be a bit eerie. ‘But terribly interesting...’ The workmanship had been so lifelike that at first glance she’d thought it to be a still living man until she took in the glassy eyes and unblinking gaze.
To her husband, art and beauty were the things that lasted whether it was the written word, enduring images or melodies first played hundreds of years ago. It was the pieces that became stuck in the human consciousness as time went by that he gravitated to. As a polymath Sasori saw very little difference between science and art. And why should I? He’d said, staring at Davinci’s Anatomical Studies. Even paint comes down to chemical compounds. ‘And his creation is far less disturbing to look at than The Punished Suicide.’ His work could hardly be compared to that butchery, the differences between them were too vast. [1]
Perhaps the most impressive thing was that Sasori had completed his work at the tender age of fifteen--but then he was also the man who, when she met him on that body farm a few years ago, had 3 doctorates by the time he was 30 . ‘It’s... He’s even posable!’ Looking younger than the day he died the 3rd sibling was like a giant figurine in a dollhouse. At that moment he was sat in a great wingback chair holding a book-- Shadows From The Walls of Death seemed to be a favorite but just as often he could be found standing at attention by the door to Sasori’s preferred study, the one with secret passage in the bookshelf. [2]
The somewhat admiring tangent Sakura had been heading down was interrupted by her husband’s very uninformative, succinct response to her query; “A good one.” Sasori said in his usual fashion of giving as little information as he possibly could and plucked the paper from her grasp. It smelled like dynamite and gunpowder but the giant lettering scrawled over it in what he deduced to be crayon was easily recognizable. “Deidara.”
“I had a wonderful wake-up call this morning.” The sarcasm of that statement was abundant. “You missed the explosion going off right above our bedroom. I mean those flowers must have offended you something awful to abandon me like that.” She would gnaw on that bone some more. ‘Well it was closer to afternoon than morning...’ By the time Sakura had picked herself up from the floor she hadn’t been able to conduct an immediate investigation into what the hell had thrown her there in the first place. She’d stumbled out into the hallway and right into Chiyo before being rushed through preparations.
Sasori’s eyes narrowed as he read over the document. “He moved in while we were away.”
“Yes and apparently if a squatter moves into your property and you don’t make moves to evict them in a certain period of time...well, they have the right to stay .” At least until the legal process for eviction went through or…
“We’ll kill him.” Sasori’s eyes skimmed over the paper further. “He gave you this and you let him get away?” He scoffed, reading a portion of the note that detailed how the bomber would expect to be referred to as Uncle by any offspring his union with Sakura would produce, he’d even drawn himself looking quite bloated and star shaped surrounded by little blobs with peach colored hair.
Baring her teeth in a grimace, Sakura snatched the paper back before Sasori could tear it into itty bitty pieces for Kakuzu to sweep up later. Baring the presumptive nature and rude delivery she found it to be cute, in its own odd way. “On any other day I would have been on him like a lion with a gazelle!” Her pride was unfortunately bruised from the incident earlier in the day. “But this dress...It doesn’t exactly allow for a long stride,” As if to emphasize the point she hobbled around him and descended a few more steps. “And I can’t get out of it.”
Sasori spared a moment to think about her seizing Deidara by the neck and wringing the life out of him before coming to the conclusion that he was begrudgingly glad the other man managed to slip away and live for at least a while more. ‘If Sakura is going to savage someone, especially Deidara I want to be there to see it.’ Missing it would be among his greatest regrets, just below the one of not having met her sooner. Becoming involved with that side project years ago was one of the best decisions he ever made.
Watching her gait made it very clear how Deidara managed to escape, she was almost as slow as one of those slugs she allowed to slither around the garden. ‘If it were up to me I would have salted every one of them.’ But hindered as she was, Sakura moved with tempered grace garnered from years of martial training.
Thinking that it was a simple matter of the fastener being stuck he followed after her, brushing aside the hair she’d grown out in the year preceding their wedding only to discover something rather curious as his hand traveled the length of her back; no buttons, no zipper. “You were sewn in.” which was an interesting prospect when Sasori considered that at some point in the evening someone--who he determined would be himself would have to cut or rip the seams to free her. ‘Something to look forward to.’ But then his mind turned to an obvious, concerning conclusion. "That shrew knows." He thought he'd been overly clear about telling as few people about their plans as possible.
Pouting, Sakura peered at him from behind the fall of her hair. "I needed help and she's good with a needle." She could sew too, but clothes had never been in her repertoire. 'Flesh...little dolls, those sorts of things.'
"So am I." Sasori's frown deepened in a fractional way. If there was one quibble he had with her it was how well Sakura got on with the rest of his blood relations--at least the living ones. He hated that almost as much as he despised her ability to be personable. 'I don't need anyone but her, why can't it just be us?' Always, forever.
"Also she might have bribed me with candy apples…" Sakura whispered the secret into her hands, glancing off to the side. "They were so good."
It did not go unheard. "It's a wonder you made it into adulthood. Did you also accept candy from strangers in white vans?" It was said with far less venom than he used when speaking to others.
Sakura pouted and crossed her arms. "Only the once and I bit that guys thumb off and spit it back in his face." She raised her chin proudly. It had been worrying at the time but she'd learned a good lesson, gotten free candy and her parents took her to Disney World the week following that incident. 'They were really worried about my mental wellbeing and thought the happiest place on earth would overwrite my trauma.' Which had ended up being somewhat true.
Once again Sasori found himself lamenting that he had not met her sooner because Sakura had clearly been adorable and dangerous from a young age, a fact he both deeply appreciated and resonated with when considering their future offspring. “Now that she knows she’ll try to be included.” He looked about the room suspiciously, waiting for a sign of grey hair or a cackling, menacing laugh but instead he caught sight of another issue. “It's still not right.” Sasori gave a disappointed tsk in Kakuzu’s direction. “I’m beginning to wonder about your spatial awareness. Put it further back and to the right.”
The butler who had been stalking his way out of the room in the vain hopes of escaping further nitpicking turned on his heel. ‘The problem isn’t the chair, it’s you.’ But Kakuzu was being paid an exorbitant amount of money for relatively easy work and he had access to ancient coins and priceless antiques. ‘Not to mention the stocks…’ And there was the frustrating matter of that blood contract he couldn’t escape from despite no longer possessing blood. ‘Most importantly this beats slumming it with Hidan for all eternity.’ So he would move that damn chair as many times as needed.
“I just wanted to surprise you,” Sakura said, drawing her husband’s attention once more. “Although maybe I shouldn’t have.” Given all the trouble her attire had brought with it. “It's just that I really wanted to fit in with the rest of the portraits and I’m already at a disadvantage with this hair color.” Red was the color of blood and organs, pink was the color of bubblegum and cotton candy. She hardly fit in compared to his sable haired mother and sloe-eyed Grandmother. ‘Of course there are a few blondes on the wall..’ Temari and her mother most notably but pink was just…’ gaudy .’ Soft. At least compared to all the rest.
Putting aside his thoughts about interlopers and Kakuzu's complete and utterly disgraceful inability to place a chair correctly, Sasori turned her to face him only to find himself accommodating for her lack of balance. Sakura’s lips parted faintly, one hand curled and grasping at his shoulder, green eyes flitting behind her to the floor she now slanted towards. “I didn’t marry you to fit in with anyone .” She had only ever had to be herself and nothing more. “But I do appreciate the dress even if I am eagerly awaiting its removal.” He thought of it like wrapping paper, pretty to look at but more fun to shred. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed the color of your nails.” Sakura had painted them the same toxic green his own had been the day they met, only his had been stained by a mishap involving Kankurō.
“It has nothing to do with me being sentimental, I just like this color.” Sakura blushed, plucking a piece of imaginary lint off his shoulder. She was confident that she wouldn’t be dropped, Sasori was small but so was she and his wiry frame possessed quite a bit of strength.
The soft way that his eyes regarded her in that moment was more than enough of an indication he didn’t believe her. “If I wanted someone who fit in with my family I would have picked a better liar.” Sasori’s nose brushed against her cheek, catching the scent of those white flowers she favored but before their lips could meet despite Kakuzu’s almost inaudible ugh the doorbell rang, shrieking like a murder victim throughout the house.
Sasori could have ignored it, he did ignore it when Sakura’s fingers threaded through his hair, scraping against his scalp. “I love your hair.” She sighed.
The problem was that just as their lips threatened to touch the person at the door became impatient and the screaming sputtered and started several times over. Flinching, Sakura turned her head from the almost kiss. “You should probably get that.” she pressed a quick peck against his cheek and then used the arms she had wrapped around him as leverage to regain her balance.
Glaring over her shoulder at the man who should have been answering the door rather than messing around with a chair, Sasori pulled the watch from his waistcoat, the chain and attached skeleton keys chiming as he checked the time. ‘Early by 10 minutes.’ Normally he would have approved but at the moment he found himself wishing he’d rigged a kettle of boiling oil to the doorbell.
The screams started again and he cursed the ancestor who’d chosen that noise before stalking towards the front door. Sasori took one look at what laid beyond the heavy carved wood and proceeded to shut it again. “No.” It was worse than carolers, trick or treaters--which he actually enjoyed terrifying, and even thrice damned solicitors. Temari’s outraged squeak was sufficiently silenced by the slamming. ‘I even prefer lawyers to family.’ He thought, sliding the deadbolt with a sharp clack.
The door bell sounded off again, more ferocious than before as he considered his options. Eyes alighting upon his Great-Grandfather's bleached skull sitting atop a pile of books Sasori made a choice, picked it up and turned to smash the old switchboard before Sakura could come along with her sympathetic heart and let the vermin in.
Unfortunately in the few, sparse seconds it took him to do all that the deadbolt clicked and the door swung open with a reverberating crash. “I should have smothered the lot of you in your cradles.” Sasori sneered, the skull creaking as his fingers dug into the coronal.
Temari smirked at him while she wrested the key she’d somehow gained access to from the lock. “But’cha didn’t.” she crooned, full of false sugar.
“There’s still time.” The skull’s teeth began to chatter so Sasori tossed it out the front door before it began to whine and complain, making sure to clip Kankurō in the head at the tail end of the arch.
The purple lipped, tulip shaped blossom of the plant Gaara was carrying split open to reveal rows of teeth before it struck out and gobbled up the skull, sucking on it like a pacifier. “Was that Great--” Muffled complaints drifted from the fleshy confines, confirming the possessed insomniac's suspicions.
“What do you care? He hated you anyways.” Sasori shot a dirty look at the plant, finding its manners to be atrocious.
As if to cement that belief the plant realized that there was no flesh to consume and spat the skull back into the foyer with a loud ptooey . Something further in shattered as the boney remnant rolled into it. Gaara cringed at the noise. “I brought Sakura a plant...An African Strangler from the jungle…” [3]
"I hope you killed whoever did that to your hair while you were out too." Sasori said, looking with faint disgust from the ill mannered greenery whose wriggling tendrils were attempting to span the distance between him and it and then back to his cousin. “What sort of man brings another man’s wife a plant?” It was destined to have an accident involving a prolific dose of weedkiller.
“I told you he’d take it the wrong way.” Kankurō rubbed the bump on his noggin. “Gaara’s not trying to woo your woman with plants, that's a you thing.” He decided to say nothing on the subject of his brother's hair, if only to spare the other man's feelings.
Topaz eyes stared unblinkingly at the plant opening and closing its purple maw, ivory teeth scraping together. “You’re going to regret this.” he said leaving the target open to interpretation. Sasori could have meant his cousin’s or the plant but it was just as likely he meant all of them and the universe at large.
While Sasori had been ruminating in the doom he would rain upon them, Temari stepped around him, inviting herself into the house she’d grown up in. When Kankurō attempted to do the same Sasori stuck his foot out and the man face planted straight into the Beware mat beneath them.
“Why is it always me?!” The middle sibling’s complaints were mumbled but heard nonetheless.
“Don’t be dramatic, it's Deidara just as often.” Sasori replied. “And I’ve told you before, that gunk on your face is absolutely garish.” Along with the man’s taste in heavy metal music.
Normally Gaara would have helped his brother but with his hands full of a carnivorous plant and an equally blood thirsty cousin to contend with he decided stepping over Kankurō’s prone body and escaping further into the house where either Sakura or his Grandmother would ward Sasori off was the correct choice.
“Traitors!” Kankurō called upon realizing his abandonment. He was picking himself off the ground when something hit him in the ribs. “Really? You’d even kick a man when he’s down?” He realized how dumb it was after he’d said it. ‘Of course he would…’
Sasori knocked the toe of his shoe against his cousin’s shoulder and echoed his unspoken sentiments. “Yes, I would.”
“Apologies.” A new voice interjected and Kankurō grunted when a series of things were dropped onto his back. “My hands are rather full.” Sai said, blinking his dark eyes. It was nearly impossible to see over the canvas and the rest of his supplies, some of which were dropped all over the Akasuna doorstep which now included Kankurō’s backside.
Checking his watch again Sasori hummed thoughtfully. “You’re just in time,” Pointing towards the ground where the black lump named Kankurō laid he said; “That will assist you.” And then turned back into the house, kicking the skull from the remnants of a jade vase along his way.
“Papa!” Chiyo laughed as her long dead father’s head rolled by her. “It's so good to see the children playing with you,” She’d plucked the skull up and tucked it under her arm. “It's been ages since you’ve been up!”
“You can always join him in that long slumber.” Sasori sneered as he passed by. Gaara had handed over his hostess gift while he was away and Sakura was looking equal parts enthused and disturbed as prehensile vines slithered over her lap. “Perfect, you finally managed to place the chair correctly.”
Kakuzu had in fact not moved the chair for what would have been the 32nd time, Sakura had simply sat it in complaining that her legs were tired. Apparently that was enough for Sasori to deem it just right and the butler who was currently suffering from budget withdrawal was not about to argue the point.
The plant’s mouth opened wide and attempted to sample Sakura’s clothed knee but before Sasori could do anything other than glare at it murderously because that was his knee, Sakura bopped it on the head with a fist. “Bad.” She chided and the vines slipped right off her.
“I found it while traveling through the jungle on one of my... retreats .” Which really meant he was traveling the wilderness in a half-mad state thanks to his demonic possession. ‘I suppose it's better than what I used to do…’ Which was murder people. It was good that he’d mostly gotten a handle on that. “I think it might be a mutation of sorts but It seemed like something you would be interested in.” Gaara explained from his quiet, dark little corner.
“Oh it's certainly interesting.” Sakura admitted. “I think it just needs some training...and a good pruning if it doesn’t stop trying to eat me.” She swore the plant whimpered when she moved her hand too abruptly. “Maybe a name too...You called it an African Strangler?” Green nails tapped against her elbow thoughtfully “Sheba maybe…” [3]
“Strychnine.” Sasori supplied because that was what he hoped would kill the blasted thing. ‘And the rest of them if they decide to stay for dinner.’
Tilting her head, quite oblivious to her husband's nefarious plots, Sakura decided that Strychnine the African Strangler was not too bad of a name after all. “Yes, that’ll do.” She beamed in his direction for half a second. “You’re not going to destroy this one too, are you?” her eyes thinned suspiciously.
“Leave.” Sasori deflected, turning to Temari. ‘I can’t lie ... directly to her face.’ That would be an awful thing to do.
“Sure. After the family portrait.” Bothering him had become a lot easier ever since he met Sakura. ‘Small world, who would have thought someone we met in an exchange program as pre-teens would reappear and marry into the family.’ Not that she was complaining. Once the initial shock that Sasori was human and not a demon summoned from the pits of hell to take the form of flesh had worn off a sea of opportunities revealed itself before her eyes. One normal night he’d demanded a few years ago after Sakura had pressured him to introduce her to his family. One normal night or I won’t wait until you’re all sleeping to end you, he’d said.
Normal hadn’t been attainable but Sakura stuck around despite the ghosts. ‘And Granny’s snake and spider stew...’ Actual spiders had not been used since the famine of 1919, as fortunes improved the spider portion had been replaced with chicken but Sakura hadn’t known that at the time. 'Or about the poison in it...'
“Don’t you have a husband and small child to torture?” Sasori scowled.
“I torture them 364 days a year, this one is just for you.” Temari sneered derisively. Shikadai had a fever and it was Shikamaru’s turn to clean up vomit and watch that show with the stupid singing sock-puppets for the millionth time, back to back.
Chiyo and Ebizō had finally joined the rest of them and upon seeing them Sakura struggled to rise from her seat as she found it to be proper and decent. “No.” Sasori pressed her back down. “They aren’t staying.” He’d burn the house down if he had too.
“You can’t have a family portrait without family.” Chiyo tutted as she used her sleeve to buff and shine her father’s skeletal head.
Sakura’s eyes darted between her husband and her in-law nervously. She loved both of them in different ways and did her best to smooth the sharp edges between them but it could be tricky balancing the two. “That is true.”
There had not been a family portrait containing all the still living members since Sasori was eight and Temari was four, which was adorable with their sullen expressions and the headless doll within the miniature guillotine. According to Granny Chiyo, Sasori had put Temari in the guillotine after that but it broke on the way down. He spent the rest of that day repairing it to good working order all so that another malfunction would not keep him from a good beheading. ‘Plus Gaara looks so excited and he brought me a plant!’ Although Sakura found the slick backed hair he currently sported to be reminiscent of a salaryman and rather…’Unfortunate.’ She mused, glancing at her husband’s artfully mussed hair. ‘Much better.’
“When I said family I meant us . You and me, not us and them.” Sasori had not chosen to share blood with them or anything else for that matter but he had chosen her.
“Your family is my family and vice versa,” Only Sakura’s mother absolutely refused to come visit in the most polite way she could muster. You can always come home, don’t forget that. Mebuki had said, pursing her lips at the rehearsal dinner. “And we can have another portrait made of just the two of us on another day...Plus you sort of owe me for beheading my roses for a ‘perfectly’ good reason that you’ve yet to share.” Successful marriages were built on reasonable compromises.
Displeased with the turn of events Sasori mulled over the benefits of arson a little harder, entertaining the idea of leaving a smoldering pile of ruins in their wake as he and his wife absconded back to Europe. After a moment of that an interesting, hopeful prospect sprang to mind. “Another portrait you say…”
“We’re not posing in the nude for Sai to paint.” Sakure scowled at him, nipping that plausible and very possible idea in the bud.
That thought had not entered his head because Sasori planned to do the painting himself. ‘Well, I’m sure she can be convinced. There is nothing wrong with tasteful nudity.’ Like Paris Bordone’s Jupitor and Io.
“That would be most appreciated.” Sai said from where he was setting up his easel. “This is more people than you said.”
“Not by choice.” Sasori groused as he cast a critical eye about the room. The original composition they’d planned would no doubt be compromised by the additions.
Great-Grandfather Habu decided to throw his archaic opinion out into the public discourse. “In my day if a man’s wife contradicted him in public she’d get a good reprimand with the back of his hand!”
“Oh.” Chiyo said without much inflection. “I remember why Mama poisoned you now.” And why the kids liked to kick him around the halls. “Must be getting on in the years to have forgotten that.” she laughed blithely and tossed the skull over her shoulder.
“Ow!” Deidara complained from the curtain he’d been hiding behind. “Be careful where you throw the remains of your undead...dead? relatives, you’re gonna wind up killing someone.”
Sasori’s venomous eyes narrowed in on the squatter. “If only you could be so lucky. Instead your ultimate demise will now be left to me and I assure you it will be most... unpleasant .” Suspiciously he glanced at his Grandmother. “Did you know he’d moved himself in?”
“Not until this morning.” The old matron shrugged. “Although the spirits did say we had an unexpected...or was it an unwanted guest?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“We just thought it was Rasa.” Ebizō explained.
“Is he back from hell again ?” Kankurō groaned, looking around the room.
Chiyo flapped her hand dismissively. “We sent him back last week when he complained that someone of Sakura’s...nationality had married into the family.” Which was a polite way of saying that she was from Fire Country. The faint strains of her father’s explosive commentary at the revelation reached even her aged ears. ‘Well, he’s even older than I am and It took me an hour to decide I liked her.’ And like quickly became adoration.
Deidara, unsure if the murderous look on Sasori’s face was targeted at him or the rather crass talking head he was holding, kicked open a travel trunk and dumped the skull inside for someone, likely Kakuzu to deal with later. “So!” He clapped and dusted his hands off. “Let's get this picture painted already.”
“You’re not family!” Temari had never forgiven him for the time he’d set off an explosion in Gaara’s face. ‘He got all...demony after that and started foaming at the mouth trying to bite people.’ He'd taken a chunk right out of Shikamaru's arm after that incident.
Rolling his lone visible eye, Deidara affixed himself behind Sakura’s chair. “Of course I am.” he smoothed out the rumpled tie he’d pilfered from Sasori’s closet while he was off honeymooning. “Family is who you choose and I choose you guys...mostly for the free space and food.” He pointed his fingers at Sasori and Sakura. “Can’t wait to be an uncle...not that it's going to take you two long.” he pressed a pinky into his ear and wiggled it. “I should have picked the other attic tower, you’re so loud.” he complained, draping an arm over Sakura’s shoulder.
Ebizō and Chiyo shared a knowing look. “At the rate they’re going it’ll be less than a year before we see another addition to the family.” The younger sibling said, running a finger over a long, feather eyebrow.
“Did you tell Sasori about how I got away this morning? Fun times!” Deidara grinned, remembering how she'd practically waddled about like a penguin. “And plenty more to come.”
Sakura’s left eye twitched and her lips stretched into a thin, foreboding smile that Sai knew all too well. “The. Funnest . Say, I have an idea. Gaara just gave me this plant,” she nudged the sulking creature in its pot with a red heeled foot. “Do you mind holding it? I mean I can’t call you Uncle if I can’t trust you to hold a potted plant.” Either she had gotten very good at lying in a short period of time or Deidara was so excited about being accepted as family he failed to pick up on the obvious falsehoods. ‘Kinda makes me feel bad.’ Especially when he tenderly picked up the plant and held it like a swaddled baby. ‘Well, maybe it learned a lesson from when it tried to eat me and It’ll leave him alone.’ But if it did take a nibble or two, he’d live.
“Great, why don’t we invite the help into the portrait too!” Temari complained, crossing her arms as Deidara squished in between her and Kankurō. ‘I should have brought Shikadai…’ Of course he would have spread his little germs and made everyone disgustingly sick. ‘But sharing is caring!’
If Sasori had to be miserable he saw no reason for the butler not to share in his plight. “There’s an idea, do join us Kakuzu.” It was not a request and his tone made that clear.
Grunting, the tall stitched together man set down the old phone he’d been speaking to a broker with and stood himself at the very back of the group as was proper for someone of his height.
Sai frowned and peeked out from behind his easel. “Sakura, I feel very left out and I only say this because you told me it was important to verbally express my feelings rather than passive aggressively taking them out on the people around me like Sasori.” To him, Sakura was also his family so it seemed unfair that Deidara was allowed and he was stuck painting. ‘Like when Naruto sidelines me for Sasuke.’ That's how it felt.
Sasori scoffed and turned away. ‘I am not passive.’ But he was aggressive.
“I don’t want you to feel left out...but someone does have to paint it.” Sakura’s eyes followed Sasori as he moved away, wondering if he’d finally decided enough was enough and that he’d rather scuttle back into some dark crevice than deal with anymore shenanigans. A moment passed and then he crisply snapped his fingers and every candle in the chandelier above them and those within the countless candelabra flared all at once. As if to answer their quiet flames hissing into existence the fire in the great hearth behind them roared into life. ‘I want to be able to do that someday…’ She’d been at it a now year and had only managed to light one fire at a time. ‘Show off...but he does look good doing it.’ She hummed.
Nodding to himself, Sai recognized that it wasn’t out of malice but necessity. “I will simply add myself in as we go.” he decided and gave his supplies a thorough once over.
There was a clatter as Chiyo and Ebizō decided to include their deceased sibling, setting him on the floor in between them. ‘Well Sasori should at least appreciate that.’ A gasp escaped her lips as a wave of red fell over her. The smell of roses hit her but Sakura’s hand moved on instinct, her fist snatching a handful of whatever was falling. A dark, crimson flower sat in the palm of her hand when she unfurled her fingers to check. “Oh.”
“I told you; A very good reason.” Sasori murmured near her ear. “Aesthetics and symbolism are important.” his hand slid over hers, fingers locking together over the bud.
“You could have asked.” Sakura huffed and pressed her lips against the back of his hand. Petals were strewn over her shoulder and lap, stemless heads pooling and caught along her skirt before dropping to the floor and resting amongst her feet in a puddle of crimson and scarlet.
“Less than a year.” Chiyo agreed, watching with a sly smile.
Sakura blushed heavily but decided after a moment of deliberation that holding hands was purely appropriate in her current company and did not let go. ‘Sai can paint it just as we are.’ She thought, watching as Chiyo and Ebizō manipulated the joints of their marionette-esque sibling. “Do you ever think a taxidermied man might be too disturbing for children?”
“Darling, disturbing one’s offspring is one of the fundamental rights of a parent.” Sasori explained, admiring the way the color of her nails played against the red petals crushed between their hands. “Who would we be if not for their failures?” His gaze slithered briefly to his Grandmother.
Chiyo turned the head to the left just a touch. “How true but dear, you must remember that difficult children will take advantage of your good nature." The old woman sighed. “If you're going to try and break their diabolic spirits you’d best be successful otherwise what you end up with is…” Her eyes looked pointedly at Sasori. “Well, you know what they say; adversity breeds character, sometimes a tad too much of it.” She chuckled.
“...” Gaara was not sure he could handle a second Sasori in his life. ‘And I’m possessed by a literal demon.’ It left him with a very high tolerance but that idea was extreme even to him. It had long been hypothesized that Sasori was worse than a demon, that he might have been connected to Satan’s unholy legion in a deeper, more meaningful way but if that were the case the voice inside his head was silent about it.
“Even if our children despise us and blame us for everything that goes wrong in their lives rightfully or otherwise, we’ll still have one another.” Sasori comforted his wife, brushing some pink hair behind her ear. “And if by some unholy miracle they manage to murder us for their inheritance we’ll be interred side by side, our rotting bodies entwined together for all eternity…"
Sakura made a noise that a normal person would assume to be a weep at the thought of her children committing parricide--but it wasn’t because that was never going to happen, they were both too savvy to be offed by a bunch of upstarts. 'Especially since we'll be working together.' The sound had been more akin to a lovelorn coo at the romantic notion of decomposing together until there was nothing left of the two of them but intermingled dust and bones. ‘It'll be just like how we met, coming full circle back to dead bodies…Besides, I have no intention of unduly torturing my children.’ Whatever woes they experienced in life would be completely accidental, just like her own.
From somewhere behind them Deidara made an appalled, squealing noise as Strychnine the Strangler did as was in her name and nature. Noisy slurps and yowls reverberated off the high, dark walls followed by something metal clanging as it fell over.
“Deidara!” Sakura’s brows knit, green eyes flashing fiercely. “If you can’t handle a plant, how can you handle being an uncle?” He should have let her hit him earlier in the day and they could have been done, anger squashed. ‘But no, he had to run off and mock me.’ Strychnine was one way to get revenge and she hardly had to do a thing. Giggling, she pressed her cheek against her husband’s hand, smiling coyly all the while.
‘Well.’ Sasori smirked, his eyes gleaming diabolically in the low light of the candelabras while he admired the red stone on his wife’s ring finger. ’I suppose we can keep it around for a while longer.’ Especially if Sakura kept feeding people to it.
Sai decided to paint them like that.