'Don't be a defeatist dear. It's very middle class.'
Haruka was an ambitious woman who wasn't very subtle with her thoughts. There were many a life lessons she had imparted to her Yori-chan but now, with her body freshly burned and her memory heavy in her family's hearts, mama didn't have a chance anymore.
Daddy and daughter bowed their heads and prayed every night for fifteen nights for the safe passage of their beloved Haruka, and then went about trying to pick up their lives from the rubble of their hearts.
Shin worked for more than fifteen hours a day after his wife's death to keep a roof over his Yori-chan's head, and Yori-chan picked up the household slack that her mama's death had caused.
The desert sun beat down on the short girl, her eyes searching for the right sort of tomatoes for dinner (if there even were any tomatoes left in the market place).
Sashaying from stall to stall and managing not to bump into anything, Yori-chan navigated her way around the marketplace, nervously searching for all the things she needed for dinner.
It was when she was at a vegetable stall that she noticed it.
The baby carrot.
Backing away from it in horror, she didn't see where she was going and whose way she was standing in. She bumped into a boy about two years older than her and, seeing a hitai-ate tied firmly across his forehead, Yori-chan with the perpetually watery eyes and nervous eyebrows, apologised over and over again, head bowing roughly four times in a two minute apology.
The boy with an angular face, strong jawline and troughs under his eyes, fared no better. His apology was just as long-winded, his arms nervously clutching the air in an attempt to express just how sorry he was.
At the precise moment when they both had wound down on their emphatic apologising, a third person, male, crashed into them, running at around twenty miles a minute.
The three fell to the ground with Yori-chan squashed underneath them, the hot sand biting into her inner arms and knees.
Yet another boy appeared then, his eyes half-lidded and uninterested, his messy red hair falling into his eyes. Looking at the pile of limbs at his feet, he sighed.
"Komushi, you need to watch where you're going."
The one who had been running dusted himself off with his hands, one made of flesh and the other made of wood. He then reached a hand out to the other two.
"Sorry 'bout that! I was runnin', and you were there, and you were there, and t'was all a bit of a mess really and I'm Komushi! Hi!"
Komushi, with his boundless enthusiasm, scared Yori-chan, especially as she saw the glint of his own hitai-ate. In fact, the bored boy behind him had one as well, and she knew he was the same age as her.
Choosing to pick herself up instead of taking the wooden appendage (she noticed that the other boy took the proffered hand), Yori-chan apologised again, this time with a bit more fear.
"I-I'll be on my way then. I'm sorry for standing in your way Komushi-san. I-I promise I won't do it again." She had no idea why that was even apology-worthy and she really felt that he should have been watching where he was going.
But on the other hand, he could snap her neck like a twig and she wasn't very keen to see just how much prodding it would take.
"Hey, it wasn't anyone's fault! If anythin', it was Sasori-kun's, but then, it's Sasori-kun, so it isn't anyone's, right Sasori-kun?" he said, turning to the bored boy for affirmation.
Yori-chan's head swam and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to run away fastand never look back because that was Akasuna no Sasori and of course it wasn't his bloody fault Komushi-san!
Instead, she whimpered before saying, "Regardless, I will try to avoid—"
"I, as well, apologise, and I would, of course, never be, that is to say, firmly believing that, in all honesty, I am clumsy, and so, henceforth, I shall, in fact, avoid this street, so as to, in essence, prevent such accidents from occurring, due to my presence." said the boy that had, in all honesty, bumped into her and not the other way around.
But of course, Yori-chan was a nervous little chit and could hardly be expected to blame anyone else for her lack of coordination and spacial awareness.
Komushi's large grey eyes widened further. "No! You don' have to do that! Seriously, both of you, it's fine!"
"Komushi, they can avoid the street or drown themselves for all I care. We need to be at the mission assignments desk in three minutes and we will not be late."
"Oh, alright. You're so punctual Sasori-kun; the mission desk isn't going to fly away you know!" said Komushi good-naturedly before turning back to the other two. "You're Isago-san right? I've seen you at the border! Who're you ojou-chan?"
"Yori." she said quietly, glad that things were winding down and she could make a hasty retreat.
Flashing her a grin, he said, "See you around Yori-chan!" before patting her head and yelling at Sasori to slow down, because he was halfway across the street.
"Well, I'll be on my way then. Sorry once again Yori-chan." said Isago, and Yori-chan's eye twitched imperceptibly. She was short and had wide blue eyes; that did not mean she was a child!
"It's alright Isago-san…" she began, but he'd already fled into the crowd and disappeared.
Yori-chan continued with her grocery shopping thereafter, and thankfully didn't bump into anyone even remotely interesting.
Well, except for Ikanago-san, who was seven years older than her fourteen and was ready to marry her at the slightest hint of willingness.
Yori-chan generally steered clear of that sort of drama, but unfortunately, that drama was hers.
"My fair Yori-chan, what brings you to this unforgiving market?"
"Certainly not you, that's for sure, you perverted lolicon…" she mumbled.
Yes, you see, Yori-chan was sassy, but only when she knew no one could hear her; she was a wimp.
"What was that my beloved?" he asked, leaning in closer to the short girl.
Yori-chan was mentally screaming for help, but of course, her wimpy nature ensured that even that wasn't possible.
"I-I have to get home Ikanago-san…so if you'll…um, excuse me..." she said, a little louder (but not by much) and Ikanago, with the decency his father had beaten into him, offered to walk her there.
Yori-chan, even though she hadn't finished shopping, bit her lip and nervously followed him back to the Kazekage Tower.
Why me? she thought, her misery reaching new heights.
Fate, of course, had decided that Yori-chan, Mistress of Gutlessness, needed yet another problem in her life.
Walking out of the Kazekage Tower and holding a green scroll each, Komushi and Sasori were heading directly towards them.
Yori-chan's heart was beating fast and her throat was constricting with fear; if Sasori tilted his head exactly 179 degrees to the right, he might see her!
That was far too few degrees for an error margin; Yori-chan needed to run.
Never mind that if he actually did do that, his neck would snap clean off. Logic has no place in her brain, the idiot…
"Yori-chan, what are you doing?" asked Ikanago, his worry for her increasing by an exponential number, because he had never seen anyone manage to crab-walk so conspicuously.
"Me?" she asked in a high-pitched voice filled with so much forced calm that it fooled absolutely no one. "I'm fine! Just…practicing a new meditation stance! It…it helps with dexterity?"
"Ah, how very youthful of you Yori-chan!" he exclaimed, his rose-tinted vision sparkling and covering her with rose petals once more.
Yori-chan shuddered—never in a million years did she think she would be called youthful (it was only ever acceptable coming from Gai and Lee's mouths. Anyone else and it was just wrong)—and then giggled nervously, checking behind Ikanago-san's head for the two red-haired boys.
Relaxing when she realised the coast was clear, she smiled tentatively at her brunet companion. "Thank you for accompanying me this far Ikanago-san. I will be fine from here."
"Please, call me Ikanago-kun."
A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek as she nodded, eager to get rid of the creepy guy that her Papa Shin had introduced her to when she was ten.
He'd been interested her even then, the lolicon…
"Ah, Yori-chan! I didn't think I'd see you again so soon! What are you doing at the Kazekage Tower?" exclaimed an excited voice.
Turning around slowly with dread filling her mind, Yori-chan saw Komushi-san and oh Kami-sama it's Sasori of the Akatsuki and he's going to kill me—
"Y-yeah…what a-a coincidence...?"
So far, Akasuna no Sasori was just as bored as he had been the first time they'd 'bumped into each other', as it were. Komushi just seemed more excited than before, if that was even possible. Yori-chan could swear there were sparkles popping out of his eyes, but she would never mention this of course. She didn't want to die after all.
"We just got assigned a mission; gotta kill a bunch of enemy-nin and give some stuff to some people and then we'll be back and we can go get something to eat together and it'll be fun right? Right Sasori-kun?" said Komushi, without taking a single breath in between.
Sasori had the most expressive face that she'd ever seen him make—he twitched in annoyance. "Do what you want Komushi."
"Um…I have…somewhere to be right now." she said, her knees knocking when she realised the noises coming out of her mouth had caused Sasori to glance at her for an instant.
Oh God, he was going to kill her now for sureand—
"I'm not going to eat you." he said with no intonation, as though addressing a curator at an art exhibition about a particularly uninteresting exhibit.
Yori-chan was sure she was going to die now, if not because he chakra-stringed her to death then because of embarrassment.
"You're Akasuna no Sasori! How do you know my beloved Yori-chan?" demanded Ikanago, standing possessively in front of Yori.
Her eye twitched again, but she did nothing.
"EH?! Yori-chan, this old guy is your boyfriend?" Komushi asked, wide eyes tearing up and looking disappointed. "And here I thought you were a pure maiden…such a let-down…"
"Komushi-san…" she began, tearing up from the plain humiliation she had to endure.
"Komushi, if this is about what Chiyo-obaa-san said, I've told you I could care less." said Sasori, his annoyance having disappeared and a bored look settling on his face once again.
Komushi turned to him and pouted, before sighing and giving in. "Oh alright! Sorry if I was coming on a bit too strongly Yori-chan! But I would like to get to know you better." he said, his voice modulating to a more acceptable level.
"I demand an answer! If you have evil designs on—" Ikanago began.
"Who has evil designs on who Oyaji!?" yelled Komushi, attracting the interest of literally every person in their vicinity.
"Komushi." Sasori said, and then turned and walked away, as if any limited interest he had had in the commotion had completely disappeared.
"Eh, wait up Sasori-kun! See you soon Yori-chan!" he said chirpily before sticking his tongue out at Ikanago (his face was a livid plum colour, and he was muttering about only being "twenty one years old, you little brat…") and chasing after Sasori, who had once again left him behind.
Yori raised her hand in farewell reflexively, and before Ikanago could recover, she bowed her head to him once and then basically ran up the flights of stairs till she reached the door that led down an underground tunnel to the Kazekage's residence.
The Third Kazekage was the strongest shinobi in Suna's history (well, Yori amended, at this current point in time at any rate, to the knowledge of everybody else) and was roughly thirty seven years old. He had no heirs but his little brother (who was now dead—some mission or another, Yori wasn't really all that knowledgeable about the specifics) had been taken care of by Mama Haruka.
And this was where Yori had been born and had lived her whole life. The house with its cream walls and sparse furnishings was where she'd toddled and bumped her head (that was yet another incident in her life that had scarred her), pricked her fingers on the seamstress' spindle (Princess Aurora was lucky she'd fainted instantly, because it hurt) and where she'd learnt about her entire existence.
Yori had been a different girl with different morals and a different personality before being pushed out of a tiny hole and breathing in the raw air of the desert. Yori hadn't even been Yori really, more of a mixture of could have been, should have been and might have been in one tiny little body with mousy brown hair and wide blue eyes.
Yori had been Rose, and Rose had been sarcastic and witty and just a little bit afraid. Rose had become Yori, and Yori was meek and cynical and afraid of her own shadow.
She didn't know how it happened, that her courage died so abruptly just as she had been given a new set of lungs to breathe and a new pair of eyes to see, but happen it did. Yori was now no longer Rose, Rose was in Yori's past, just like the yelling and screaming and racism and the blindness.
And what a shock seeing colours had been! For the first time in thirteen years, Rose (not quite Yori at the time) had been able to see colour.
There was the red of cheeks and lips, the green of Mama Haruka's clothes, the bright yellows and oranges of the desert landscape, the blues of Papa Shin's eyes…
She had cried and cried and cried, first from fear, then from wonder, then from relief, then from fear again because everything was so new and wonderful and alien—
Yori set the dinner table, cutting the meat she'd managed to procure from the market (she had no idea what type of meat it was, but it didn't smell like it was rotting and that was good enough for her) and bringing a saucepan of water to boil.
She lived in the Kazekage's house, was a contributing part of the Kazekage's household staff ever since her mother's passing, taking over the job of a cleaner until the Kazekage decided to have a child.
Seeing as he wasn't even married, the likelihood of that in the near future were so slim she could safely begin planning her retirement before it happened.
The sound of someone's footsteps approaching her reached her ears long before she registered Papa Shin with her eyes—force of habit and all that (there were some things that would always stick with her that had been Rose)
"Okaeri nasai papa! How was work?" she asked, smiling as she turned around. Papa Shin smiled back at his daughter, his cheeks flushed (she hoped he was only slightly tipsy, because if he collapsed in the hallway again, she had no idea how to carry him back).
"I heard you caused quite a commotion outside Yori-chan! Three men fighting over you—Papa's really proud!" he said, smiling beatifically.
"Ehehe…" Yori nervously giggled before staring at the pot of boiling meat with more intensity than it warranted.
"Who were they musume? Were they rich?" Papa Shin started drooling at the thought of Yori bringing home a rich husband (or going to rich husband's home, he wasn't too fussed really).
"Not really papa…Papa, I don't want to get married!" she said, going a bit high-pitched at the end. Her father waved her off.
"Of course you do, every woman does. You'll see, you'll find a nice rich husband, preferably really high up the food chain, and then settle down and give Papa lots of money and saké…" His head were in the clouds again, and Yori-chan pouted.
Papa Shin was a bit of a money-grubber, but he was her papa—a bit of a heavy drinker, a bit of an opportunist, veryembarrassing, but still family.
Privately, Yori knew she would get married someday, because commitment scared her but a future alone scared her even more. A couple of children and a husband that worked well enough for the both of them to manage to get food on the table…now, all she had to do was get over her fears and self-esteem issues, and she would be golden!
…if only life were that simple.
"So who were they musume?" he asked, snapping out of his fantasies.
"Two shinobi who were just being nice and Ikanago-san being a grade A—" Yori stopped herself, chiding herself for letting Rose come out.
"Ikanago-san! Oh, you lucky lucky girl! He's a shoe-in for a position in the Suna Council, and he's also completelystraight-laced! No worries about him shaking someone else's sheets on the side, I can tell you that!"
"Papa!" she exclaimed, appalled at even the thought of spending three minutes in Ikanago's presence, let alone years. Her papa was just too much!
She added spices to the meat stew as her father fantasised about more money for booze than he could spend, and by the time she placed a bowl with some rice in front of him, he had collapsed, snoring and dead to the world.
Yori contemplated how to get him to his room and looked to the hallway that led to his room, which seemed to stretch longer and longer the more time she spent staring at it in despair.
Then, as a dutiful daughter ought to, she ate her meal and left him at the table.
He wasn't that old; back problems were still a long time coming.
Besides, Yori thought as she drifted off to sleep between her coarse blanket and thin bedsheet, her head resting on a pillow too thin for a proper night's sleep without waking up at least once to readjust her position, Papa shouldn't be drinking so much anyway. What would mama say?…
Miles away with his back to his comrades and facing hordes of Iwagakure shinobi, Sasori of the Blood Red Sand lived up to his moniker, his puppets tearing into the enemy and drenching the desert with the blood of so many that it would take decades for the witnesses to forget.
The desert though, would remember forever.
Well, there's the back story and the Sasori interaction! So heatedyeah? Why, they were practically doing the horizontal tango right there! 'I'm not going to eat you.' indeed! How very indecent, and in public too! All joking aside though, thoughts?