The next week passed like all the others, except that now, both of her hands were free whenever Sasori was present. He still tied her up when she was alone, but otherwise, she could now fully sit up and even do some stretches to keep her upper body limber while at the same time relieving some of her boredom.

Sometimes they spoke, always initiated by Sakura. After their conversation where Sakura had figured out how much Sasori seemed to routinely make, she had decided that it was in her best interests to learn more about him and, perhaps, gain his trust a little. She would never let herself become complacent, she promised herself, and always kept her guard up, but she needed to know about her enemy. Knowledge was power, and the only way she was going to be able to fight back against him was by knowing who and what she was dealing with.

She found out that he was the grandson of Councilor Chiyo of Suna ("Babbling old fool—just die already"), which also told her that they were probably somewhere in the Country of Wind. For a full day, she had been given hope that the little reveal of information was a sign of her captor getting sloppy. It was also good that they were in Wind instead of somewhere like Mist; she really wasn't all that far from Konoha. But, she reminded herself pessimistically, that was not strictly true—the Country of Wind was huge, and even though Wind's borders touched those of her homeland's, with her three days of unconsciousness, he could have brought her anywhere in Wind and it wouldn't be a problem.

She had asked him the next day why, if he lived in Wind, he had been in a hospital in Konoha.

"We're not in Wind," he'd spat contemptuously. "Now cease with your prattling."

With just that one question, the day's conversation and any further attempts at speaking were effectively short-circuited.

A few days later, after learning about his fondness for puppets—Sakura had had a very visceral, gut-wrenching reaction to the creepiness of that—and his wish for eternal life, which had spanned two days' worth of conversation on its own, something changed.

Sakura knew it the moment she woke up to the locks being turned earlier than usual that day. Sasori entered with a tray, as usual, but also with his left fist clenched instead of using it to balance the tray. He set the laden tray down, which revealed fresh fruit, a tall stack of thin matcha pancakes along with strawberry syrup and whipped cream, and a large glass of ice cold milk.

She'd been too excited by the food to wonder about anything else. She was equipped with the rare fork and knife and kept her snarky question of "What's the occasion?" to herself, instead choosing to dig into the delicious treat.

Sasori didn't leave to let her eat in peace as usual, though. He took a seat at his art stool and watched her, but the explosion of flavors on her tongue allowed her to ignore his focused gaze.

It was only when she was finished that he took the tray and left. He immediately returned, no art supplies in hand but left fist still clenched. She still wasn't concerned until he took a seat at the edge of her bed, bringing him just above eye level to her.

Sakura immediately felt the sharp stab of complacency she thought she'd been avoiding, but apparently had been in denial about, be shattered. She hadn't really forgotten what he wanted—companionship, he'd said, but she knew it wasn't of the platonic sort—but she had put it out of her mind, and though every day was still a trial, still an ongoing mission to escape, she'd…yes. She'd fallen complacent, even though she'd promised herself she wouldn't.

She was just trying to survive, a part of her wailed in her mind.

Scooting as far away from him as possible, which was not far and also caused his eyes to narrow dangerously, Sakura asked trepidatiously, "What's going on?"

"I thought you'd been paying attention, Sakura. It's the one month anniversary of your arrival."

She was shocked for a cold, hard moment, before saying, "That doesn't add up at all! I've only counted three weeks at the most!"

"You're not counting the days you've been unconscious," he told her simply, and Sakura felt the food she'd eaten, once so wonderful on her tongue, curdle in her stomach.

One month. An entire month since she'd gone missing and no one had found her? It wasn't surprising, but—gods! They'd consider the case cold by now! No police officer would be looking for her, no detective, if they had even realized she wasn't in Konoha anymore.

Sakura thought she was going to vomit, but fought it by asking, "That doesn't answer my question."

Anger over fear. Anger over fear. It was her only defense right now, the only thing keeping her from losing her cool entirely and permanently.

She was going to have to escape Sasori all on her own. In a way, she supposed she hadn't really expected anyone to come banging down his door to save her, but she had hoped…

She had no idea how to if her feet were going to be zip-tied to a bed for the rest of her life excepting bathroom breaks and the short showers she was allowed. She had already tried running the first time she'd gotten a chance, getting as far as seeing a hallway that led into a larger area, and that had led her to being threatened with languishing in her own excrement if she ever did so again.

Sakura had not been willing to risk it, and she still wasn't. Maybe she would be one day, but that was not today.

"It does," Sasori disagreed, but for once elaborated. "We're going to celebrate."

Sakura couldn't help herself. "By letting me go?" she asked snidely.

"Quite the opposite," he replied, as though she hadn't been disrespectful, and he finally opened his left hand.

Inside was a jewelry box. Sakura swallowed hard, not knowing what to think when he opened it to reveal a necklace that was more the length of a choker with six jewels across the front. He picked it up delicately, showing it to her in full, before beginning to speak.

"This chain is made from a precious metal that is only found in the Country of Iron. I won't bother with the name of it, as you won't know what it is nor will you ever be able to afford it, but it's the strongest metal ever seen. You see these two parts?" He held up the ends carefully away from each other, which Sakura noted did not have a clasp but were rather two small blocks of shining silver. "When they touch, they weld together. It's as though they were never separated—that is what makes the metal unbreakable. It won't part from itself."

Sakura felt herself paling with every word he spoke and she was growing lightheaded with the horror of this. At least it was only jewelry…but it wouldn't ever come off, if Sasori was to be believed.

To her horror, Sakura couldn't help but believe him.

"Now, these six little jewels?" Sasori was saying. "I won't tell you which is which—you're too clever." A smile, fond and almost soft, played about his lips, and Sakura felt bile rising in her throat. "One has a tracker in it, of course. The others monitor your pulse, temperature, oxygen levels, and blood pressure."

Swallowing hard, because that was only five and the device hidden in the sixth jewel had to be the worst, she asked shakily through nearly chattering teeth, "And what's the last one?"

"A micro explosive. If you do manage to escape to somewhere I cannot find you, and you stay there long enough that I can consider myself abandoned, all I have to do is press a button and the C4 inside will cause an explosion of a kilometer radius. I consider it a safety measure to ensure your cooperation."

"I…I…no. No, I won't let you—you can't put that on—I-"

And Sakura promptly vomited all over the bedsheets covering her lap.

Sasori managed to avoid any splash, unfortunately, but if he cared at all for her cleanliness, he'd free her for a little while to change the sheets. Maybe, if he did that before he put on the necklace…

No. No. He can't do this to me. He can't! He CAN'T! I won't let him!

Showing none of his thoughts other than clucking his tongue admonishingly, Sasori tugged away the bedsheets to reveal the lower half of her body. Luckily, none of it had been touched by her vomit due to the thick layers of her bedding.

He set the horror device back into its box carefully before snapping the box closed and tucking it in his pocket. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

"Okay," Sakura replied, seeing the escape route for what it was. He snipped the zip ties with a pocketknife, though she'd found that more were always at the ready, and held his hand out to her. She was still shaking violently, still feeling like she was going to puke again, and her body was weak from the intense adrenaline rush wracking it, but there was no way she'd accept his help. Painstakingly, she ignored the hand and stood on wobbly knees.

He sighed as though she was being unreasonable. "Have it your way, then."

She followed docilely to the bathroom adjacent to her prison, even though she wished she could take him by surprise and just run. The problem was that she was physically weak, not just from her forced prolonged bed rest but also the overload of chemicals affecting her body. She wouldn't make it far, and then Sasori would be certain to put on the choker before she made another attempt.

Opening the door for her, Sasori motioned for her to enter. "Take as long as you need," he said. If she hadn't known his intentions with the sickening jewelry in his pocket, Sakura would have said that this was his most humanlike moment in all of her time in his captivity. As it was, she thought he might just be being crueler by dragging out the last minutes of her freedom.

She nodded, stomach still roiling, and entered the bathroom before closing it behind her. This was her last chance—now or never. She either escaped or lived the rest of her life with Sasori. She would think up an escape plan, calm herself enough to enact it, and run like she never had before.

And Sasori had given her as much time as she needed to do it.