He was thankful that she knew how to shut up.

Sasori tinkered puppet parts in his workshop, completely engrossed in his work and not minding the little girl perusing through his seemingly endless collection. He could tell by the look on her face that though she was interested, she was a little unnerved at the 'realness' of his designs.

"They look like people-people," she told him once. "But no way, huh?"

"If that's what you'd like to think."

She'd nodded then and continued to gawk at the rest of his puppets without further question. He stopped paying much attention after that and failed to see her stumble upon a painting in the far corner of the room.

It was dark there as that part of the workshop was kept obscured by the red cloth Sasori would use to dress his puppets. A large canvas stayed pinned on the wall with meticulous strokes of a deep, subtle blue. The top was dotted with yellowish white, stars maybe. In the midst of all the calm beauty was a silhouette of a mere slip of a boy in the very corner, staring upwards.

Ego Solus, read the engraved gold plate beneath the painting.

Sakura's face scrunched up as she wandered back to Sasori's desk and tugged lightly on his shirt.

"What?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

"Those that painting—what's it say?"

"What painting?"

She tugged on his shirt again and pointed to the far right of the room. Exasperated eyes trailed her finger before they froze and assumed a sheen of blankness.

"I, Alone."

"Sas'ri-san...?"

"Ego Solus means I, Alone."

Assuming a blank expression didn't always mean being able to successfully hide feelings beneath it, so she took his cold hand into hers and tried to warm them. "Why're you alone, Sas'ri-san? You talk to Dei'dra-san and 'tachi-san and Kak'zu-san. That's a lotta people, see!" She held up three of her fingers and waved them above her head. "Why's that bad?"

His brows furrowed. How could he possibly come to tell her that his circumstance had come from his parents' deaths? That he didn't find out about it until a year later? That his grandmother lied? That he turned the only person that dared to be his friend into his first human puppet?

But he'd never tell her any of that. Loss was nothing something she would learn until she was older and he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell her about it.

Sasori set down his tools and spun his chair to face her fully, his hand still in her childish grip. "Having people around you means nothing. If you stand among a sea of strangers, you're merely an isolated body surrounded by numerous isolated bodies. You know none of them and none of them will ever know you."

She blinked. "I'd say hi and try to make friends!"

"And how how do you propose you do such a thing?" he huffed. "These people may as well be barbarians with no morals—humans with no hearts."

Her lip jutted out in minute frustration before she reached up and smacked the canister embedded in his chest. "You see that? See?!" she exclaimed. She smacked it again, though it felt more like a weak bat than anything. "You're all wood but you gotta heart too!"

He stared down blankly at her angry face—angry on his behalf—and scoffed as he turned back to work on his project. Sakura pulled a stool from the corner of her room and sat at his side to tell him about her day, the goods and the bads and what she wanted to play with later on.

And against his better judgement, he listened.

::

EDITED 2.24.18