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"Sasori-Danna?" A frail voice called out from the other side of the room, lying atop Sasori's bed which he rarely used.
The puppet body he possessed has no use for sleep, for the most part, though occasionally he would enjoy relaxing himself. Today, though, Sasori caught the infamous Y/N attempting to make herself some wretched looking soup, about to pass out where she was standing. As much as she cried for him to stay away from him, fearing that she would get him sick, he simply chuckled at her foolish concerns before hoisting her over his shoulder.
His brown doe eyes snapped over to the frail figure, an etched grimace against his features. Though he had been taking care of the woman for a few hours, human illness seemed to enigmate the man. What she showed signs of was a common cold, and yet, she seemed so worse for wear, and it was driving him nuts. He set down the book he was skimming about illnesses to walk over to the woman's side, forcing a contented, and slightly annoyed look about his face.
"What do you want now, baka?" He snapped back as he sat atop the edge of the bed, his heart tightening at the harsh words he sent to her. In actuality, the puppet only dared care for the woman because he had a soft place in his heart for her, and yet years of pushing emotions away made it so hard for him to simply say it. Internally, he ached, while externally, it was impossible for the woman to place.
She flinched at the harshness of his words, though she moved her pained gaze upwards to the red head. Trying to force a gentle smile against her features, she whispered, "Would I make an addition to your collection upon death?" Her eyebrow raised, tone soft and yet so sincere.
The puppet was taken aback by her words. Had he ever thought of making Y/N C/N into a puppet? Though the thought may have come to musing once or twice, he always shelved that thought, caring too much about the woman. In an irritated tone, he said, "Why do you think I'd make you into a puppet? I thought we got past this years ago. I'm taking care of you, aren't I?"
For a moment, her lips formed a straight line, tightness evident. Words she wished to say stuck to her throat, unable to formulate into a verbal response. Her y/e/c eyes moved from brown doe eyes to the bed in front of him. "You are, and I appreciate it, Sasori-Danna," she said softly, her voice cracking a bit as she spoke. "I'm just curious if, upon death, you would allow me to be a part of your eternal art. I'm sure my kekei gengai could be of use for you in battle."
"You're talking like you're dying from a mere cold," the red head scoffed, his lips curling upwards in amusement. "I know enough about the human body to know you won't."
"It's not the cold," she said, her voice much firmer than before, though weakness was clear in her tone. Her y/e/c eyes felt as if they were going to spill over, biting her lip to attempt to prevent such. "I would rather you hear from me, as much as I would have preferred to spend my time without others watching the clock over my head."
At her words, she had not needed to say any more for the red headed man to understand exactly what she was saying. His heart tightened in his core, lips curled to a grimace at her words. Though he found no way to truly express to her how he was feeling, he was sure, if he was still human that tears would drip against his cheeks.
"Please don't be mad," she murmured softly, her lips curled into a frown as she forced back her own tears as much as she could. "Only Pein knows, and he doesn't want to admit that he has some mercy left in his heart."
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked after a few moments, while his tone came out harsher than he had meant it. His lips still held a straight line, as they nearly always had, but there had been something reflected in his brown eyes that had been indescribable.
He thought that Y/N would just -- always be there.
She hadn't needed to say why , the way her eyes fixated upon anything but him had been enough. Still, she forced the words past her lips. “I didn't want to hurt you,” she spoke, as if she brought her timed clock upon herself. She spoke as if she had been at fault, though Sasori knew better than to take her words at face value.
His brown eyes scraped down the woman's frame -- contemplation, though the woman would never understand the honest why to Sasori's hesitation. Something had been haunting about the idea of using her body as his eternal art, and he could only muse it had been the fact that his heart, though cold and merely meant to be a vessel to keep the man alive in his puppet form, had felt a tinge of something for her.
No one conjured a reaction for his heart but her .
Those y/e/c eyes would haunt him for the rest of his eternal life.
“I-I'm sorry if it's too much,” she said finally, a sniffle about her words that had been separate from her cold. She pursed her lips and her gaze fell back to his blanket that covered her frame.
He took that moment to think of just how expressive she had been. Back before he had made himself the way that he was, he was sure he expressed something -- pain, loss, regret, for the most part. He could hardly remember those times.
“You will be eternal,” he spoke finally, unsure whether or not he would regret the decision. He wondered if maybe this had just been a result of giving her just what she needed to hear in that moment, though Sasori made no effort for such things. He found himself unable to admit the fondness he held for her. Instead, he continued, his words short. “Now rest. I'm not making you into a puppet today.”
Teary-eyed, the woman glanced back up at Sasori with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Sasori-Danna.” She did as she was told, curled back into his bed as she lulled off to slumber.