Chapter Title: Your Strings Are Mine
Word Count: 4,589
Author's Note: Hi! So as you can see, I decided to continue this fic since I had a lot of fun writing the first chapter. Plus, I couldn't sleep since I had tons of ideas running though my head about it so I just turned the computer on and wrote them out. I think the reason I love this pairing so much is because the banter I can have preform though I might have gone a little too dark on this chapter but I still like it a lot. Basically, what I wanted to show in this one was several small glimpses of Sakura and Sasori's lives at the Akatsuki base. There will be more of an actual story line in the next part so don't worry if you didn't quite like this style. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, and please send a review my way after you're done with reading!








Her eyes open slowly as she wakes, revealing dull, sea green orbs which peek out from behind several strands of her rosette hair that's fallen across her face while she slept. Blinking slowly, she allows her gaze to wander around the room which she considers a personal prison, searching for a much more menacing form then her own.

He's not here…

At the knowledge of finding herself alone, a small amount of relief washes over her bruised and battered, nude body.


Pulling the white, wrinkled sheets tighter around her petite form, she shifts in the large bed and closes her eyes to resume her slumber once more.

Because who really wants to have consciousness when they're living such a pathetic existence like the one that she's currently leading.

Besides, she was having a good dream.

One where she was not here.




She staggers down the hallway, silent and blindfolded, while wrapped tightly around her already chafing wrists are heavy, metal handcuffs which are connected to a short chain that is being pulled on roughly by a guard as he leads her though the maze of corridors.

Small, but quick puffs escape out from behind her chapped lips as she struggles to keep her footing while also trying to follow the fast pace that has been set by her guide. She soon finds all of her effort wasted though when she feels a good, strong tug on the chain which pulls on the cuffs hard enough to cause her bare feet to scrape painfully against the cold, stone ground as she stumbles forward before landing fully on her front.

Splayed out across the floor, tiny pebbles bite angrily into the palms of her hands since she had tried to catch herself as well as into the skin of her left cheek which rests against the ground. A grunting type of noise is released from her mouth as she pushes herself up into a kneeling position only to feel something wet slither down the side of her face. Quickly, the liquid sets a path as it slides over lips, sending a coppery-like taste into her mouth and showing her that she has obviously obtained a cut from her fall.

A small, dark chuckling sounds from several feet in front of here and she doesn't doubt if for a second. She knows this was purposely done by this stupid guard and probably with the want of her to look foolish or for a feisty reaction just so he can have a good reason to hit or pick on her further.

Sick fucker.

She doesn't give him what he wants so badly.

Instead, she stands up to her full height and after a few quick moments of swaying precariously, she keeps her stance to wait patiently for them to resume their traveling.

Her reaction is obviously not the one that he neither expected nor desired, and he lets her know this by a loud scoffing sound that's full of clear disgust. Seconds later, it's followed by the insulting word, 'Bitch' which he spits angrily out at her face before she finds herself being forced to wobble forward once more as they start up their walking.

If she had been her old, spirited self, she knows that she would have so easily given him what he had wished for with a few bad kicks or curse words included, but now, that girl is long gone only to have her place taken over by a woman who knows better since she has learned far too many unwanted lessons from the dark, unfeeling place.




The door slams shut with a thunderous banging nose behind her back, leaving her all alone in the small, moldy smelling bathroom.

She moves fast as she begins to strip the worn material of the kimono from her body, knowing full well that she has a limited amount of time in this place. Leaving the clothes in a messy heap on the nearby counter, she bends over the large bathtub to let her nimble fingers wrap around the knobs to turn them, and moments later, clear, warm water pours out of the old faucet before pounding away with a slapping sound into the tub.

She watches it as it slowly fills, being sure to not glance in the direction of the cracked mirror that hangs on one of the walls. She's sure that one of the last things that she wants to see at the moment would be the empty shell of what she used to be.

Figuring it full enough, she twists the knobs once more to stop the heavy flow before stepping in slowly, trying to adjust to the scorching temperature of the water. Sinking in gradually, she allows her aching form to relax in the small comfort and with a splashing sound, she leans back to soak her pink locks.

This is the only part of this hellish place that she can even begin to tolerate. It's the only place where she feels that she has control-though it may be a small amount-over her own body and choices. If only this pleasure was offered more often instead of every other day, she might still have an ounce of peace left in her body.

Taking the small amount of soap that she is permitted monthly, she rubs the slick, cream-colored bar over her skin while making sure to scrub harder in certain places where the puppet master has been so kind enough to leave red welts along her pale flesh to remind her of what they've done together.

How nice of him.

She washes herself over and over countless times, even continuing when her skin begins to burn from the amount of abuse she is personally giving to it.

Still, she knows that no amount of soap will probably ever make her feel clean again because of all of things that she's been forced to do here.

Sinking deeper into the now lukewarm and soapy liquid, she rinses herself one last final time before deciding that she's finished with her task. Her backside leans against the cold, marble side of tub as she rests against it with her head tipping back. Taking a big, deep breath, she shuts her eyes tight before ducking down low to allow the water to fully surround her.

Gradually, seconds begin to tick by and she doesn't move to seek the surface. Instead, she decides to open her eyes to watch as her cherry-colored tresses float gracefully around her face like some type of halo while several bubbles escape from her mouth before deciding to soar up.

Lying there in the thick, watery silence, she allows her mind to wander to dangerous places.

What if she stayed her forever?

Her lungs begin to burn painfully, letting her know that they are growing uncomfortable with the lack of air but she ignores their cries.

What if she just waited here until she passed out?

A small smirk crosses her lips.

What if she just drowned herself right now she wouldn't have to face any further suffering?

Numerous 'what ifs' continue to make a path through her mind, but in the end, she can't do it and she comes back up quickly which sends the choppy water splashing sloppily over the sides as she coughs and sputters loudly.

Because in the end, she finds herself too big a coward to actually take her own life.

A sudden pounding that carries deafening volume sounds from the other side of the door as well of the shout of, "Time's up!"




He's back with his hands ghosting up and down both of her sides slowly as he pins her beneath him against the bed. She feels his lips crawl leisurely across her collarbone until they come to a stop and decide to smirk into the crook of her neck.

Closing her eyes, she tries her best to withdraw herself from the present situation and to instead, pretend that she's somewhere else that's far away from here.

What a shame…She had just gotten clean from her bath too.




She sit's up in the bed mutely with the sheet covering her naked form and her knees pulled up against her chest as she hugs them tightly to her. The shuffling sound of him walking around the room to retrieve his clothing reaches her ears before his deep voice asks, "How did you get that?"

She glances up at him briefly to see that in turn, he's starring directly back with his eyes locked and closely studying the left side of her face. Reaching up, her hand touches her cheek where the small cut that she attained during her earlier fall resides. Silently, she lets one of her fingers drift slowly over the thin, red line as she looks back down without offering him an answer.

Across the room, the puppet master's light auburn orbs darken a slight fraction at her response.

Disobeying, little brat.

The clacking sound of shoes hitting wood sounds nosily as he walks over to the woman that he finds so infuriating. Extending his hand out, his fingers wrap around her skinny wrist in a strong grip to pull her attention away from her cheek so he can get a better view of the injury himself.

Looking up at him, a heated expression comes over her facial features as she tries to pull away to free herself from his grasp, but he refuses to relent and instead, only squeezes harder while he asks her once more, "How?"

She winces slightly from the throbbing ache that he's causing her arm, but she still manages to snap back with in a nasty tone, "One of the little guards thought it would make for a nice present."

As soon as the sentence is released from her mouth, she tries to draw back once more and this time, he allows her to as he loosens his hold for her wrist to slip away. Without another word, he turns to start towards the door, a livid look set in his eyes.

How dare anyone lay a hand on something that rightfully belongs to him.

He leaves promptly, being sure to slam the door behind him as he exits which causes her to wince from where she sits.

She never does find out whatever happened to the guard but she does know that she never sees him again.




He keeps his earlier promise about the food factor.

Sitting at the small table across from her, he leans casually back in his chair to observe her closely through narrowed eyes. He watches as she stares down with a look full of evident repulsion at the tray which rests before her with a bowl of now tepid soup as well as several pieces of bread sitting on it. Several strands of cherry-colored hair fall from the clip that she's used to pin it back as she quickly glances up at the man opposite of here, a spiteful look marring her features.

In turn, he gives her one of his original smirks as his lips twitch up slightly to form it. Deciding to play with her, he sits up to his full height and reaches out for the silver spoon which rests next to the bowl. Waving it slightly in front of her face, he displays it while informing her as if she is dim-witted, "You are supposed to eat with this."

Taking offence, she snatches the piece of silverware roughly away from his grasp. "I do know how to feed myself," she snarls out from behind clenched teeth.

"Really?" he questions like he's surprised by the small fact. "I wasn't certain since you weren't doing anything but gapeing at the food."

He expects one of her witty retorts to come firing back his way but instead, she keeps her silence. Slamming the spoon down onto the tray, she causes the whole table to shake from the amount of force she's applied to the action.

"You could just ask for something else if you don't like the choice of the meal instead of obliterating it," he teases further.

Another glare finds its way to him.

They both know the true reason behind why she's not eating.

Several more moments pass in complete stillness and gradually, he discovers himself growing tired of this little game. Annoyance flickers across his face for a split second as he simply commands, "Eat." His voice no longer holds any of the playfulness that it had retained only moments of earlier.

Her response to his order is to bravely push the unwanted serving away with a determined look. Her eyes hold a small amount of fire that he rarely sees from her these days as she whispers out a resounding, "No."


At the end of his small amount of patience, his hand stretches out right as light blue chakra threads rush from the tips of his fingertips. Forcefully, the strings pierce painfully into her flesh as they connect to certain parts of her body. His fingers jerk slightly as he sends the command for her pick up and grip the piece of silverware before compelling her to dip it slightly into the broth. Brining it up to her mouth, he forces the utensil into her mouth and she finds that she's faced with the choice of either swallowing the liquid or choking on it.

She chooses her first option and gulps it down in a single, giant sip just like he knew she would do.

They continue with the force feeding until every drop of the potage is gone and all that's left of the bread is small crumbs which linger on the plate. Finally satisfied, he withdraws his control over her to stand and leave but not before informing her, "I'll be back around dinnertime."




When she alone, she finds little to entertain herself with or to do besides sleeping, and when she can no longer do that, she stares at the cracks that reside in the walls which sometimes spell out an awkward picture if she manages to stare at it long enough.

It's almost like cloud gazing she decides.

Lying splayed out and flat on her stomach, her head rests on her folded arms as she gawks straight ahead into the wood pattern to watch while a likeness of an old man with countless wrinkles slowly emerges from it. Eventually though, her eyes begin to water from keeping them open for too long and she's forced to blink which instantly cause the image to disappear.

Her gaze leaves to wander off for another one and is rewarded minutes later by a picture that resembles something among the lines of a large oak tree that carries numerous leaves proudly on its large branches.

She blinks once more and it's gone.

The next one she finds emerges slower than the rest did. It starts out with short ears which rest on top of a whiskered face, and that is followed by a small body with a bushy tail behind it.

At first, she thinks it bears a resemblance to a cat but then decides later that its nose is too long and distinguished for it to belong in the feline family. Still, she thinks its build is too small to actually call it a dog.

Her mind ponders for several seconds, searching for the type of animal that it is until her eyes widen from shock with the realization that it looks like a fox.

Quickly, she shuts her eyes tight to make the image evaporate and she finds that she suddenly doesn't want to carry on with this small hobby any longer.




He brings her a present one day to her surprise. A small, rectangular shaped box that's wrapped up in red paper and finished off with a pretty, light shade of pink ribbon that binds it all together. He holds it out to her with one of his smirks lighting up his face, causing her to stare at it warily. He has never done something like this before and glancing up at him, she wonders why he would start now.

What could he possible be planning…?

When several moments pass with her not reaching out to accept the gift, he gives up and throws it on the bed next to her where she sits. "Enjoy," he tells her before he turns to depart.

She watches from her spot as the door closes before letting her gaze travel back down to at her right side where the red package sits. Hesitantly, her hand reaches out to let her fingers enclose around it as she picks it up to move it to the middle of her lap where it can rest.

After a moment of staring, she softly shakes it, being sure to listen for any rattling sound but in the end, she hears nothing. Bringing it up to eye level, she inspects is closely while she turns it in her hands and wonders what could possibly be inside but draws only a blank. A slightly confused look to crosses her features and fingering the red paper, she decides the only way to actually find out what it is, is to unwrap it.

With a soft tug, the pink ribbon easily comes undone in her hands and she discards it over the side of the bed where it floats down until it lands softly on the floor without a sound. Taking a small, shaky breath, she allows for her nails to tear into the wrapping paper as she begins to open it until a book is slowly revealed to her eyes.

Taking out of its packaging, she turns it over in her hands so its cover is facing up and her eyes quickly search for a title but she finds none. Opening it, she flips through several of its pages, scanning each one closely and seeing that stunning illustrations of sceneries reside on all of them.

A hard glare sets in on her eyes.

He's mocking her. Showing her what she can no longer have.

Slamming the book shut with a loud banging noise, she leaves her spot on the bed to walk over to the nearest of the two chairs. Reaching out, she grabs a hold of it and begins to drag it along behind her with an obnoxious, scratching sound while her other hand securely clutches the book. Stopping in front of the table where a single candle stands by itself, she sits in the chair that's lugged halfway across the room, and opens the book once more.

Her fingers roughly seize the first illustration as she tears it out of it's binding with a loud ripping noise that echoes around the room. Holding it out, she lets it rest inches above the small flickering flame of the candle and watches it while its edges start to turn black as it catches fire.

Slowly, it burns while crackling until it's diminished to nothing more than ash.

She repeats her action with every single sheet; witnessing silently as each of the beautiful drawings are turned into ugly, burnt remnants of what they used to be.

Later when he returns, he finds the book gone and its charred remains lying in one of the corners of the room.

She's punished for her ungratefulness later.




He walks smartly though the hallways though quietly almost like a ghost would do when he hears her name being uttered by a voice that is not his own. The simple sound of it makes him come to an immediate halt.

Several yards up ahead, he can see an open door; the florescent light from the room that it leads too spilling out into the corridor where he stands. It's from that place where the pronunciation of her name comes from a deep tone that clearly belongs to a male.

Several more voices join in with the original one; each one of them voicing their own filthy opinions and ideas of what they would like to do with her.

With his property.

Sticking his hands into the pockets of his black pants, he feels a small form of wrath start in his body before it spreads through him like an all consuming fire though he does not display his feelings on his face for the world to see. Instead, he resumes his walking until he comes to the doorway of the room.

Instantly, four heads whip in his direction; each individual face having an expression or with shock or alarm sprout across their features. He takes a threatening step into the small area which straight away sends one of the men into an idiotic, mumbling rant as he tries to pass his words off as a joke while also offering an apology.

It's too late though.

Seconds later, bloodcurdling screams can be heard coming from the room which echo down the empty hallway.

They confirmed their fate right when they voiced their disgusting thoughts about her.

He makes sure that their bodies will never be found and as soon as he's done with them, he goes to her.

She's startled by the sound of the door opening with a loud banging noise as he kicks it open, making his grand entrance. Glancing up, her sea green eyes widen at the chilling look that reside in his own orbs as well as the sight of the blood which coats one side of his face and parts of his clothes, staining everything a deep crimson color.

She has feared this man before but as watches him close the door silently behind him before he starts his approach, she feels her terror being kicked up to a whole other level.

He takes her especially hard that night.




He doesn't understand why, but long after he's done with her, he lingers behind tonight.

Silently, he lies in the spot on the bed that resides feet away from her own resting form while his eyes study her face, analyzing her features intimately as she continues to sleep soundly without knowing.

Usually by now, he would have already taken his leave but something pulled him away from those actions tonight. Something that he doesn't understand or knows if he wishes too.

He finds the girl before him so many different things...

Infuriating is one, for sure. Defying is definitely another quality that she posses which drives him mad as well as a certain innocence she seems only to be able to hold.

So why did he choose to stay?

All thoughts cease when her lips part as she begins to mumble quietly in her slumber. Slurred words that he can't make sense of escape out from behind her lips until the cursed Uchiha's name that she is so infatuated with slips out as well.


Irritation finds a place to settle on his face as both of his eyes narrow dangerously.

Throwing the sheets off of his form roughly, he stands before beginning to gather his clothing so he can put them on once more. When he leaves, he takes no special caution to try to be quiet as he pulls the door shut forcefully behind him, and he finds that he doesn't care whether the loud noise woke her up or not.

In fact, he wishes that it did.

His shoes clack against the ground as he walks down the hallway back to his own private quarters.

Irritating, defying, and innocent. That's all she is and nothing more.

A smirk lights up his face as he secretly promises himself that if he ever does come across the Uchiha brat, he'll be sure to take him down personally.

It will be perfect.

Then he'll bring his head back to her for another present.

Let's see if you would like him so much then…