Love… Do puppets love? Is that all it really takes, a heart…? Does this heart even beat? I've always wondered that. It has no reason to – blood isn't pumping through my body any longer, and I don't have a metaphorical reason for it to beat.

I rested a hand on my core, thinking. Was that all it took to love? I'm still human, in a way… But, at the same time… I don't love… I don't even love my own grandparents. What would even begin to make this brat so much different? He's loudmouthed, annoying, and stubborn. And yet… I find myself enjoying when he makes me sleep with him… I don't sleep, but I suppose it's somehow comforting to him.

"Ne, Danna?" his voice jolted me from my thoughts, and my eyes opened to meet his ocean-blue one.

"Mm..?" was my only reply. He should know better than to expect more, but he just seemed happy that I'd acknowledged him at all.

"How old are you, really, un?" he asked with an almost childlike curiosity. Where does he even come up with these questions?

"Nearly twice your age, brat… I'm thirty-five."

"And you've never even had a girlfriend, un? Or a boyfriend? Nothing?"

"No. I don't love; why would I be involved in a romantic relationship?"

I don't love. Right? I keep telling myself that. But if it's true, then why do I find myself like this? Why do I lie with him all night, when I could be working on my collection? It's something in the way he looks – it's got to be. He has absolutely no desirable personality traits… It has to be in those eyes… Maybe it's the way his hair falls over his face… The innocent look on his face when he sleeps? It has to be something. He's almost…artistic. That's it. Art. He's almost art, only he's not eternal. Maybe I should make him into a puppet.

"Ne, Danna," he didn't wait for my response this time, "You have a heart, right? So what if you can love, and you just don't want to, un? Are you scared?"

"I'm not afraid."

Am I? It's possible, I suppose… Afraid that I'll lose anything I take a liking to or outlive it. Possible, but unlikely. Why would I take a liking to the brat, after all? He's just that… a brat. A… A beautiful brat.

"Can you feel anything at all, un? I know you can't feel pain, but…"

"I can feel, if I concentrate chakra to the area."

"Can you feel here?" Suddenly, a jolt of… of sensation. That brat was touching my core. Really, I should poison him, but… I can't even stay angry. That almost-innocence that he gets, when it's just the two of us, is nearly irresistible, even to me. It's almost cute…if I thought such things of people. I nodded, knowing my voice would falter if I spoke. It actually felt nice, his touch. "…Does it feel good?" his voice, once again, cut through my thoughts, and I nodded just the slightest.

I don't understand. I don't love. I don't even feel. Yet here I am, not only allowing, but enjoying, the brat's caresses to the one part of my body with human sensation – my one weak spot. I didn't realize it would turn into this when he became tolerable – when I came to enjoy his company a bit. Is it normal to go from admitting you like someone's company to questioning whether you're capable of love after all, after thirty-five years? And with someone who hasn't even yet reached twenty, no less…

"…Danna…?" his voice was quieter this time, and I could swear he sounded shy. It had to have been my imagination. That brat getting shy is just absurd. I waited for him to continue, but it was obvious he wanted a response this time.

"What is it, brat?"

"…Do you think if someone loved you, that you could love them back, un?" Did I think… What? Why does he ask such ridiculous things? It's silly. But… I suppose it could be possible, theoretically. I could be incapable of loving living people because I never learned how to. Some part of me hoped the brat meant that as a hint. That's a crazy thing to hope, Sasori… You've lost it. Just like my question of "Why would I love that brat?", he's sure to be thinking something similar. I gave a bit of a nod as my answer.

"I don't see how that would be unreasonable, really… I am still part human, after all," I replied softly. I looked at the brat, just in time to see those nearly-innocent, blue eyes staring at me, almost pleadingly. "…What?" I asked him; his stare was making me a bit uneasy.

"What if… What if I confessed to you, Sasori-danna?" …What? Did he really just ask me that? "Because…um… We've spent a long time together, and… A-and I really like having you around, even if you are impatient and think I'm a brat and won't admit that art is fleeting… You… You try to hide it, Danna, but I can tell you care… Or you wouldn't bother cuddling me to sleep, right, un? And I only ask you to because… I… Well… I-I think… I love you…Sasori-danna…" By the end of his rambling, he was mumbling, and I could hardly make out what he was saying. That brat just… confessed.

I wrapped my arms around him, too, now sure of what I was feeling. For the first time, I allowed my artificial body to feel – feel his face nuzzling into my neck, his hands clinging to the back of my cloak as I held him. It felt… comfortable. For the first time, I could feel what cuddling was like with a living person, and I understood why he insisted on it almost every night. I suspected this would become a nightly affair, and I didn't have a single complaint to be given.

"…I love you too, brat… Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Danna, un," he murmured as he fell asleep against my chest.

Do puppets love? They can, given a heart which is compatible with their own. My heart may not beat for the same purpose it did when I was human, but it beats for a purpose. The once-numb, once-cold heart in my core had found a new reason to beat – and that reason was a certain, blond brat.