"Running away?"
Sasori grew agitated. He struggled to stand, only to collapse again as his damaged body gave way. "I wasn't running away! I just wanted to prove that the Puppet Technique could surpass everything! That I could use it to create eternal art!"
"Eternal art?"
"True art has warmth. It makes people feel something.
"The puppets you created may be powerful, but they have no souls, no emotions. They're nothing but cold tools.
"How can you call that art?"
Naruto listened from the side and couldn't help nodding. "Aoba's right! Sasori, you were just afraid of losing someone again.
"But as long as someone remembers you, as long as someone cares about you, you're never alone."
Sasori froze. He looked at Naruto, then at Kawaki Aoba. For the first time, tears glimmered in his clouded eyes.
He remembered making puppets with his parents when he was little; he remembered the stern but caring look in Granny Chiyo's eyes as she taught him the Puppet Technique; he remembered how lost and bitter he had felt when he left Sunagakure.
"I..."
Sasori opened his mouth, but swallowed the words before they came out.
His body gradually turned transparent. His Chakra was draining fast; he had clearly reached the final moments of his life.
Kawaki Aoba watched him with regret in his eyes. "Is there anything you still wish to do? If there is, perhaps I can help."
Sasori's gaze drifted toward Sunagakure in the distance. His voice was faint. "Help me... tell Granny Chiyo... I was wrong... And... bury me with the puppet my parents and I made..."
With those words, the last light left Sasori's body. He dissolved into a wisp of white smoke that vanished into the air, leaving only a pile of broken puppet pieces.
Kawaki Aoba silently