#sasosakumonth2022 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renaerys · 1 year

Text

Open Casket, Open Bar (SasoSaku Month 2022)

Summary: It's the day of the Third Tsuchikage's funeral, but a blond, idiot-shaped successor has misplaced his corpse, oh no! Luckily, Sasori knows his way around a dead body, and Sakura can't help but sort of be super into it.

Rating: T

World: Another Kazekage!Sasori AU featuring please-don’t-drag-me-into-your-bullshit Sakura, who is promptly dragged into all of the bullshit.

Read it below or on AO3

xxx

Sasori didn’t do funerals. Not for lack of dead people to bury (by that metric, he was top of the leaderboard because the leaderboard was the War and war was his business, or used to be). Not for lack of trying, either (Chiyo had an aggressive case of that musty, greasy-sweet old people smell and her teeth popped out when she cackled, which were all very good reasons to remind her to please hurry up and croak any day now).

But Chiyo was back in Suna probably rearranging all his furniture because she knew how much he hated it when she did that. He was going to come home to find an entire sofa in his kitchen again because she liked to sit comfortably while waiting for her tea to steep and these old bones can’t be running around your house all day. Sasori debated poisoning her when he got back, but she’d surely take that as an invitation for retaliation or worse, a sign of affection.

And anyway, Sasori was here at some old dead guy’s wake in Iwa—

(“How did you know Grandpa Shin?”)

(“Who?”)

—availing himself of the open bar—

(“I’m sorry for your loss.”)

(“Sorry enough to hand over the whole bottle?”)

—with Kakashi’s extremely uncooperative head medic.

“You are not getting wasted at a funeral,” she hissed, snatching the bottle of whiskey out of his hands, “sir.” To spite him, she took a swig from the bottle directly.

As if this would deter him.

“This isn’t our funeral,” Sasori reminded her.

“That is even worse. What if they kick us out? Gods, what if someone recognizes us?” She took another sip from the bottle.

With her bright pink hair and the infamous Yin Seal tramp-stamped onto her generously wide forehead, Haruno Sakura was perhaps more recognizable on sight than even Sasori himself, at least when he was not in his office’s full regalia, like right now. Meaning, if they were found out and then forcibly ejected from Iwa for the rest of eternity, it would one hundred percent be her fault.

Ergo, the drinking.

“If you continue to look suspiciously around like you’re waiting for the opportune time to snatch the corpse from its casket and escape before anyone notices, you will absolutely be recognized.”

“Except we are waiting for that opportune time and we are here to steal a corpse, actually.”

Sasori laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and leaned into her personal space. She shivered when he pressed his mouth close enough to her ear to feel the warmth of his words, as softly delivered as a stiletto between the ribs. “Perhaps don’t announce our nefarious plan before we can actually pull it off, Sakura.”

“Sir, I…” Distracted by the warmth behind his words and the threatening shape they took, Sakura didn’t notice when he took the whiskey bottle back and slid it out of her reach. Only when he pulled back and took a self-satisfied drink directly from the bottle did her flushed, dreamy expression warp with indignation. “That was very dirty.”

“You are easily distracted.”

“And you are the Kazekage—” Sakura lowered her voice to a scene-appropriate quietly choke on glass, please level. “I cannot believe I was roped into this. I don’t even work for you.”

Sasori could believe it. Every business dinner or summit he had attended with Kakashi over the years, Sakura had been there as part of his Hokage entourage. She’d always been well-spoken and erudite, and she made up for Kakashi’s indolence and casual lack of propriety with no-bullshit professionalism and efficiency whenever work was involved. The Suna-Konoha alliance didn’t maintain itself; that was the job of the respective guards, assistants, and advisors of the Kazekage’s and Hokage’s offices. Between her, Nara Shikamaru, Temari, and Kankuro, the alliance had survived a decade strong.

Of course she was getting roped into this latest nonsense. Kakashi certainly wasn’t going to do it himself.

Sasori refilled the glass he’d been using and nudged it toward her across the bar. “No, but I am not about to kidnap and transport the Tsuchikage’s misplaced corpse across town without cashing in on a long overdue favor.”

Sakura grimaced. She accepted the whiskey glass without protest and brought it to her lips. Easily won-over too, Sasori mused, hiding a smirk behind another drag from the bottle.

“I am going to burn every dirty magazine in Kakashi’s collection when we get back to Konoha.”

“If you’re set on felony retribution, I would suggest you focus your energies on the hapless idiot who got us into this mess.”

In and out and no one’ll even notice you’re gone, Deidara had said. I can’t leave the wake or I’d do it myself, he’d said. Deidara had unfortunately not agreed to Sasori’s very reasonable suggestion to abdicate his position as Tsuchikage-elect immediately so that he could leave Oonoki’s wake and go collect the body-swapped corpse himself.

(“Deidara, you cannot possibly be serious.”)

(“Serious as a prostate exam, yeah.”)

(“But how could you have lost track of Oonoki’s body? You are not even formally in power yet. Overseeing your predecessor’s funeral rights is literally your only job right now.”)

(“Listen, there were a lot of old dead fuckers at the morgue and they all looked the same, and the paperwork was taking forever, and it was colder than a snowman’s ballsack down there, and— Okay, okay, I know I fucked up.”)

(“You have colossally fucked up.”)

(“Day zero and I already shit the bed—”)

(“A bed of lies and ineptitude of the highest order.”)

(“I get it, okay? My man, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. No one will miss you for a couple hours except me, yeah.”)

(“So not only do you want me to clean up your mess and commit a treaty-breaking felony for you, but you’re also suggesting I am so unsociable and disliked that no one will care that I’m gone.”)

(“I mean, I was trying to compliment our beautiful bond of friendship, but tell me more about your popularity complex, yeah.”)

(“Deidara.”)

(“Yuh-huh?”)

(“Stop fucking talking.”)

“No no, as far as I’m concerned Deidara is your dead body to bury. I don’t care how many favors Kakashi owes you; I draw the line at being loaned out for body snatching contract work. Sir.” Sakura added the honorific as an afterthought, a respectfully, fuck you that made Sasori grin. Unfortunately, she was preoccupied with her drink and her self-pity and didn’t notice him watching her.

Not that Sasori had expected the Hokage to accompany him personally (in his experience, Kakashi was supernaturally good at getting out of his responsibilities or else being so monumentally unhelpful in them that everyone else decided it was best he not bother). But he also had not expected Kakashi to offer up his head medic in his place.

(“So just to make sure I understand you correctly, you want to help Deidara—”)

(“I supremely fucking don’t, actually—”)

(“—crash someone else’s funeral to steal back the Tsuchikage’s cadaver—”)

(“It’s not a party, Kakashi. No one will be crashing anything—”)

(“—and bring it back here before anyone notices the dead guy in the casket is actually just some random farmer?”)

(“Yes. You owe me.”)

(Kakashi had smiled warmly behind that childish mask he insisted on wearing to this day. “Well, lucky for you, I know someone who’s very good with a dead body.”)

“He said what?” Sakura gripped her glass so hard it broke in her hand.

Sasori sighed. There was no point in belaboring the point. They were here, and they were not leaving without all four-and-a-half feet of their decomposing prize. He flagged down one of the bartenders to clean up the shards and spilled whiskey. The man looked from Sakura’s distraught face and the mess she’d made to Sasori with his fist white-knuckling around the neck of the bottle and made a noise of sympathy.

“My deepest condolences for your loss—”

“Please go away,” Sakura interrupted at the same time as Sasori said, “You can fuck off now.”

The bartender snatched the towel full of broken glass and backed away slowly.

“You are very rude, you know,” Sakura said.

“That’s my right as Kazekage.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for a new glass behind the bar. Sasori poured her a couple fingers and watched her throw them back in one shot, make a face at the burn, and decisively push the glass away. “Okay, so we are actually doing this. Gods forgive me.”

“It’s Deidara who should be asking for forgiveness at the end of this.”

“That is one funeral I will happily attend.”

“Cheers.”

xxx

Predictably, Sasori did not like her suggestion that they mingle and at least try to look like they belonged at this wake. If left to his own devices, Sakura was sure he would remain sitting at the bar, get completely sloshed, and leave her to do all the heavy lifting, literally. Well, not today. Sakura had taken her best friend Ino’s advice and chosen a form-flattering black dress in the western style for the Tsuchikage’s funeral, elegant for the occasion but hot enough to wear to the bars she planned to visit afterwards with Shī and Kiri and the other medics she’d become friendly with over the years at these international gatherings. If she had to be here plotting to commit a crime, then she was going to make the most of how good she looked.

The event was lively, at least, as lively as a funeral could be. There was bar music playing, and the dive bar that the family had rented out for the occasion was set up with standing tables for people to gather and chat. Some of the guests laughed as they traded stories about the deceased’s happier memories. The open casket at the back of the room was surrounded with offerings of food, dried flowers, and framed pictures. It was actually quite a nice event that someone had clearly put some effort into planning. Too bad they were celebrating the wrong dead body.

Sakura set her shoulders and wandered to the viewing casket, where a young woman stood weeping quietly. “Are you all right?” she asked, handing her a tissue.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” the young woman said. She accepted the tissue and blew her nose. “It’s just so sad!”

Sakura had no choice but to take back the used tissue when the woman handed it back. “Super sad.”

“Even in death, he looks so young and vibrant, don’t you think so?”

Sakura peered at the weathered face of Oonoki, former Third Tsuchikage of Iwa, frowning so hard he looked like he’d died constipated. “Um…”

“How did you know Grandpa Shin?”

Shit, don’t panic.

Just be cool.

What would Ino do?

“We dated,” Sakura said smoothly (nailed it).

The young woman stopped crying. “I’m sorry, did you just say you dated Grandpa Shin?”

“What?”

I said what now?

The young woman looked quite lucid as she regarded Sakura. “Oh my stars, are you that nurse Aunt Rinko fired? Michiko something or other?” She gasped. “I knew it! You did seduce him, and they tried to cover it up.”

Sakura sensed that this was spiraling way out of control. “Whoa, okay, well first of all, I’m actually a doctor, not a nurse—”

“Like I wouldn’t figure it out.” She was in her own head now, not even seeing Sakura. “Shotaro is gonna shit his pants when I tell him we were right this whole time.”

“Who? Hey, wait a minute, you don’t have to tell anyone—aaaand she’s gone.”

The young woman darted off to spread her hot gossip, leaving Sakura alone with Oonoki’s open casket feeling oddly sheepish. “This is your fault,” she berated the dead body.

“Paying your respects, I see.” Sasori appeared out of nowhere looking irritable, like a recurring rash. At least he didn’t sound like he’d been drinking. “How did mingling go?”

“I think I just landed myself in a sex scandal with a 90-year-old man.”

“You were gone for five minutes.”

“It was an accident.”

Sasori peered at Oonoki resting peacefully in the wrong coffin. Then he looked Sakura up and down. “He could have done a lot worse for himself, I guess.”

Sakura gaped. “He could have…”

“Come on, before you panic again and start confessing to illicit affairs with all the other Kages too.”

What Sakura would have given to punch the Kazekage without repercussions just then. Instead, she used her words: “Not all of them, just the hot ones.”

Sasori’s gaze lingered on her, not curious but also not not curious.

Joke’s on you, sir. They’re all hot.

She skipped away to mingle some more.

xxx

Surprisingly, stealing Oonoki’s cadaver wasn’t the hard part; schlepping it across Iwa in broad daylight was.

For starters, it had begun to rain.

“Well, this can’t possibly get any worse,” Sakura said cheerfully as she shouldered the dead Tsuchikage she and Sasori had burrito-wrapped in a table cloth.

At which point, some tidy citizen dumped the contents of a latrine out a second story window directly in their path. Sasori luckily noticed it in time and stopped before he could pass under the cascade. Sakura, walking behind him with their ill-gotten burden, did not.

In a very unfortunate collision between the physics of inertia and fast shinobi footwork, Sasori managed to twist them around before they could splash through the piss puddle, but Oonoki’s corpse slipped from Sakura’s grasp and kept going. It landed in a dirty puddle of rainwater and splashed Sasori’s pristine, white tabi socks.

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at this utterly disgraceful outcome. Sakura recovered first. Tucked snugly within Sasori’s arm that had caught her, she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“You dropped him,” Sasori pointed out.

“I dropped—wait, how is this my fault?”

“I pulled you to safety. You’re the one who let him go.”

Sakura looked ready to pop. “You’re the one who said we should take the back alleys to avoid suspicion, and look what happened!” She pointed menacingly at the second story apartment where the instigating piss pour had come from.

“Just pick him up before he gets soaked.”

“Why should I? You pick him up!”

“I’m not the one who dropped him.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

A crack of thunder heralded an onslaught of more rain, heavy and sheet-like, and in seconds, Sasori’s clothes were soaked through. Sakura shrieked, swiped the swaddled corpse off the damp ground with one effortless, super-powered fist, and took off sprinting after Sasori down the alley.

It was by the grace of the gods (in Sakura’s opinion) or by sheer, dumb luck (by Sasori’s estimation) that they managed to arrive back at the pavilion where Oonoki’s wake was being held without running into anyone they knew. Even so, as Sasori held the door for Sakura to muscle her way through with Oonoki’s body slung over her shoulder, he couldn’t shake his paranoia.

“What the—hey!”

Sasori ignored her protests and placed a heavy hand over her head, now covered by his damp, formal haori. “Be quiet and keep moving.”

Sakura grumbled something about not taking orders from him, but Sasori tightened his grip on her hair through the haori and marched them through the grey corridors.

“Lord Kazekage?” asked a puzzled voice behind them that Sasori vaguely recognized but couldn’t place.

“Fuck.” He manhandled Sakura around a sharp corner, opened the first door he found, and shoved her inside.

It was dark and a little cramped, and Sakura had once more dropped Oonoki’s body on the floor.

“Sasori—”

Sasori shoved her hard against the wall, trapped her very dangerous arms with his chakra threads, and clamped a hand over her mouth before she could give them away. She squirmed, but a harsh shh shut her up long enough for Sasori to listen for the footsteps jogging by outside. She must have heard them too because she stopped struggling and fell totally silent.

They waited a beat.

When Sasori was satisfied that they’d lost whoever it was that had recognized him, he relaxed a little. Sakura didn’t move to push him away (not that she could have with his strings around her). His eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the shape of her features. The light filtering in from the crack under the doorway glinted in her eyes just enough to read her confused indignation.

Sasori removed his hand from her mouth. “Since when are you so informal with me, Sakura?”

He couldn’t see in the gloom, but he could hear the blush behind her words when she retorted, “Since you shoved me in a closet and tied me up with chakra strings, sir.”

Sasori chuckled softly. “Ah, so stealing a dead body is par for the course, but this is where you draw the line.”

“Hey, don’t drag him into this. He did nothing wrong.”

She was bolder than he remembered. Perhaps years of a close working relationship, even with a taciturn cynic like himself, could have that familiarizing effect on people. Then again, she had never had his undivided attention for an entire afternoon as they committed a funeral heist in a foreign country. Maybe Kakashi was right about her proficiency with a corpse.

This specific thought endeared Sasori to her more than he expected.

That, and the fact that he could feel the elevated rise and fall of her chest pressed flush against him through their wet clothing.

“Fine,” Sasori said, “just you and me, then.”

Sakura must have clocked something warm and ruthless in his voice, because now she stiffened with prey instinct. “Well, I mean, that’s—” She cleared her throat. “Do you think the coast is clear?”

Sasori slowly retracted his strings and parted from her body. “Well, we can’t spend the rest of the afternoon in here.”

“No, of course not…”

The darkness hid his smirk as he cracked the door open and peered outside. No one was around, so he beckoned for Sakura to follow. She hauled Oonoki’s body onto her shoulder effortlessly, Sasori covered her hair with his haori again, and they were off once more.

xxx

“So, not only is my dress ruined and my hair a mess,” Sakura ground out, “but he smells like a dead body.”

“He is a dead body,” Sasori said.

Sakura didn’t care for his patronizing tone as she paced around the luxury bathroom Sasori had locked them inside. “This is an open casket wake. He cannot smell like that! And why is his face that color?”

Oonoki’s cheek was a splotchy, jaundiced bruise that had definitely not been there at the first wake.

“The rain must have run his makeup,” Sasori said, looking pointedly at her. “You know, when you dropped him in that puddle.”

Sakura picked up the nearest item (a roll of toilet paper) and chucked it at Sasori’s head. He snatched it with his strings and hovered it back to the sink like the prodigious jerk he was. “I don’t deserve this,” she whined.

“You can lay your grievances at Kakashi’s feet later. For now, help me undress him.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He needs to be rinsed clean, obviously.”

Sakura looked between Sasori supporting Oonoki’s body with his chakra strings and the handicap shower stall he was angling for. She hung her head in her hands. “We are surely going to hell for this.”

“Sakura, his pants, if you don’t mind.”

If she wasn’t damned for de-pantsing the Tsuchikage’s corpse, surely her imminent murder of Kakashi would do the trick. Grumbling profanities, Sakura nonetheless got down to business helping Sasori undress Oonoki, turning on the shower, and holding the curtain open for Sasori to maneuver him under the spray.

She didn’t want to watch, obviously, except the way Sasori made the body move was so natural she nearly forgot it was dead. When Oonoki effortlessly reached for the shampoo to wash his own hair, Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at the performance.

“He must be as stiff as a board with rigor mortis by now,” she said. “How are you making him move so fluidly?”

“Because I’m very good.”

Sakura didn’t have it in her to knock him for that one. He was right, after all. “It’s remarkable.”

Sasori regarded her. “He’s no different from any other human puppet under my thrall.”

Right, like she could forget about Sasori’s collection. She had fought alongside his Third Kazekage puppet herself years ago when Gaara had been kidnapped by terrorists intent on extracting his tailed beast. Sasori had taken his old mentor’s body when the man died suddenly before his time and preserved his power to protect Suna for the next generation. But there were also rumors that Sasori had murdered the Third himself. Sakura had never given much stock to the rumors, of course. He was the Kazekage!

“It’s almost a shame we have to return him,” Sasori said. “I wouldn’t mind adding another Kage to my collection.”

Well, pardon the fuck outta me.

He must have read the surprise in her expression, because he smirked in such a way that did nothing to settle her. “Relax. I’m only joking.”

Sakura averted her gaze and crossed her arms. “Maybe don’t quit your day job, sir.”

She felt the weight of his gaze on her, something thoughtful but unreadable. “Hm.”

Sakura looked around for something to change the subject before she did something insane like ask him how he made human puppets in the first place (that would require significantly more to drink than she’d had, so maybe later tonight).

“Hey, wait a minute. What are we going to dress him in once he’s clean?”

“The clothes he was wearing before, obviously.”

“No way, his funeral clothes are as wet and ruined as ours. People will absolutely notice the smell if we do that.”

“Unless you have a men’s suit hiding under that skirt, then I don’t see much other choice.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and moved around the spacious bathroom. “There must be something… Oh!” She pulled out a navy yukata folded on the shelf next to the sink counter. It was a one-size-fits-all men’s robe, but it was dry and clean and it would certainly look better than the bilge water-soaked suit Oonoki had been wearing before. “This should work just fine!”

She unfolded the garment to show Sasori, and he frowned. “Why does it say ‘Mr.’ on the back?”

“Huh? Whatever, no one will see the back, anyway. Come on, let’s dry him off and get him dressed!”

Sasori and Sakura surveyed their work once Oonoki was laid flat on the fold-out diaper changing counter with critical eyes.

“Well, he looks,” Sakura trailed off.

“Dead.”

“I mean, yeah.”

“He looks like he was dropped on his head in the street.”

Sakura stiffened. “I wouldn’t go that far—”

“You must have dropped him on his face back in the alley.”

“Can we please stop talking about that? How are we going to explain this?”

“We can just reapply his makeup. What do you have on you?”

“Oh, that’s not a bad idea, actually.” Sakura checked her purse. It was damp like the rest of her, but the tube of lipstick and the stick of foundation she usually carried were in fine condition. “This is all I have.”

Sasori examined the products with a critical eye. “This is a cheap brand.”

Sakura gaped at him. “For your information, they don’t test on animals and they’re hypoallergenic—”

A knock at the door startled them both. Sakura said, “It’s occupied!” at the same time as Sasori said, “Go away.”

The person on the other side muttered a hasty apology, and they heard fast footsteps receding. It hit Sakura then that whoever had knocked probably thought she and Sasori were in here getting busy, and that was just the icing on the fuck-this-day cake she did not need.

“Anyway, you can’t wear this shit,” Sasori said, even as he opened up the foundation and hovered over Oonoki’s face. “It isn’t even your shade. I’ll get you something better later.”

Sakura was too affronted to consider what he meant by later. “Since when do you know so much about makeup?”

“Since I have good taste and a discerning eye. Now, go clean yourself up while I fix him.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong about needing to get cleaned up. She couldn’t show her face at the wake in sodden clothes smelling like the streets and dead old man. However, showering with two Kages in the room, one of whom was extremely dead, was not exactly an inviting atmosphere. Sakura resolved to hurry up and get it over with as she hastily undressed behind the shower curtain and scrubbed herself clean.

“Hey, can you hand me one of the women’s yukata, please?” Sakura stuck her hand out from behind the curtain.

After a moment of shuffling, Sasori handed her the clean garment and she unfolded it. “Oh, no.”

“What’s the problem now?” Sasori asked, irritated.

Sakura bit her lip. She was tempted to think nothing else could go wrong on a day full of wrongs, but recent history told her otherwise. She opted for denial. “Nothing! All good, super good.”

She emerged from the shower dry and clean and changed into the yukata, and Sasori didn’t spare her a glance as he finished with Oonoki. And, to be fair, he must not have been kidding when he said he had a discerning eye, because the work looked very professional.

“Wow, he almost looks alive,” Sakura said, admiring the artificial flush in his cheeks Sasori had somehow achieved with her lipstick.

“I’m good with dead bodies,” Sasori said.

“Yeah, you really are.”

Sasori glanced at her askance, but Sakura was too busy admiring the miracle he had worked on Oonoki’s complexion.

“Hey, if we get caught and have to resign in disgrace, we could always open up a mortuary or something. I’ll haul, you paint,” Sakura joked.

“Tempting. Though, I doubt Kakashi would let you go so easily.”

Sakura grinned imagining how that conversation would play out. The paperwork she’d be leaving him with alone would be reason enough for Kakashi to protest. “Hm, leaving him for the Kazekage, I bet he’d be less than thrilled.”

Sasori was silent a beat, and Sakura found him watching her intently. He had always had an air of intensity about him, but to have it focused solely on her and so close was—well, not unsettling, but spine-tingling. The way having any very attractive, very powerful person’s full attention was spine-tingling.

Aaaaand we’re not going to find the Kazekage hot in a bathroom with a dead body, thank you, next.

Sakura wondered if this whole ordeal wasn’t making her a little bit crazy. Or a little bit horny. She coughed. “Um, so, did you want to clean up? Sir?”

“Ah. I’ll be quick.”

He disappeared behind the shower curtain, and Sakura was left to twiddle her thumbs alongside the dead body until he was done.

xxx

“Holy fucking shit, I owe you,” Deidara gushed when he had a moment away from schmoozing the high profile guests.

“You will be repaying me for the rest of your very short life,” Sasori confirmed as he sipped his drink.

“Kurotsuchi almost figured it out, yeah.” Deidara leaned in close. “She was all, let’s open up the casket early, and I was like, but why, and she was like, but why not, and I had to make up some shit about a generational curse triggering if we don’t wait, like, exactly until five to show—”

“Deidara.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Deidara grinned and actually had the audacity to hug Sasori right there where anybody could see. “I love you, man.”

“I am this close to committing a violent tort,” Sasori said as he allowed the contact (so as not to make a scene, obviously).

“Well, you two seem in high spirits.” Kakashi appeared in formal black with a smile in his eye. “I gather everything went smoothly?”

Sasori considered how a wandering Darui had nearly happened upon him tucking Oonoki into the casket in the viewing room while Sakura hauled the dead farmer’s body out to stash in a closet. It was only by the grace of an insistent Terumi Mei pulling him back to the festivities before he could flake off for a nap that they were not discovered by either Kage in flagrante.

“Of course,” Sasori lied easily.

“No issues?”

“Not a single one.”

“That’s good!”

Sasori was too busy catching sight of Sakura across the room chatting with a few of her fellow medics. She laughed at something Darui’s head medic, Shī something or other, had said. Sasori watched as her friendly hand lingered on the Kumo nin’s arm.

“I just have a question,” Kakashi kept talking.

Sasori wondered if Shī would have been able to steal Oonoki’s corpse with Sakura, and decided against it. The guy looked like he drank celery juice and trained for marathons and made sure everyone knew it. “What,” Sasori said just as Sakura looked up and caught him watching her.

“Why are you and my favorite former student wearing matching His and Hers yukata?”

Deidara fully spit out his drink on a passing server and began to choke.

Sasori took a sip from his drink, unfazed. “We got a little…wet.”

“P-Please—” Deidara sputtered, about to die laughing around his sake. The server he’d sprayed on patted his back in alarm.

Sakura had noticed the three Kages all looking at her and began to make her way across the room toward them.

“I see,” Kakashi said, still smiling. “I’m relieved it all worked out.”

Before Sakura approached them, Sasori said, “By the way, you might want to keep a careful eye on your porn after today.”

Kakashi stiffened at the loaded warning.

“This looks like a very suspicious meeting of the minds,” Sakura said as she joined them.

Deidara took one look at the monogramed Mrs. on her yukata and had to be escorted away for water. Sakura looked puzzled at the “Congratulations!” he choked out as he went.

“Look at the time,” Kakashi said. “I just remembered I have to go check on something.” He teleported out of there before Sakura could get a word in edge-wise.

And then, it was just the two of them.

“Why do I get the feeling he knows I’m plotting my revenge?” Sakura grumbled.

Sasori eyed her drink. “Enjoying yourself?”

“About as much as anyone can at a funeral.”

Sasori slipped a hand along the small of Sakura’s back just below her obi. “Next time will be better.”

Sakura cocked a brow. She didn’t push his hand away. “Are you suggesting we hang out with a dead body again sometime?”

“Well, my grandmother isn’t long for this world, hopefully.”

“What a terrible thing to say! Chiyo-baa-sama is a legend.”

“Legends are necessarily dead.”

“She can’t be so bad.”

Sasori fixed her with a condescending look. “She once dumped out all my good sake and replaced it with arsenic acid just to see if I would notice in time.”

“That is an egregious waste of fine sake.”

Sasori grinned. “I will save you a front-row seat at her funeral.”

“It’s a date, sir.”

A staffer announced that the viewing room was being opened up for everyone to pay their respects to Oonoki directly. His granddaughter, Kurotsuchi, would be giving a eulogy.

Sakura made to follow the flow of traffic, but Sasori caught her with his strings and pulled her close enough to murmur in her ear, “In that case, don’t be so formal with me, Sakura.”

The surprising heat in her eyes at his suggestion, the same as earlier this afternoon when he spoke to her so intimately, would be the inspiration he needed to sit through today’s rites. He parted from her to join the Suna delegation inside, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Perhaps Chiyo would kindly consider choking on her favorite bean casserole in the service of her only grandson securing a date with the world’s greatest medical ninja.

xxx

True love is grave-robbing a corpse together and then aggressively flirting over the dead body. I literally do not know how either of them could end up with anyone but each other.

#sasosaku #sasosaku month 2022 #sasori #akasuna no sasori #haruno sakura #sakura haruno #naruto fanfiction #sasosakumonth2022

46 notes · View notes