Sasori worked on his artwork all night. It should - how could it be otherwise? - become a doll. A puppet. These are not dolls that are used as a trap or weapon to make others harmless, but dolls that are commissioned. It was Sasori's first commissioned doll.

She had persuaded him to find a shady woman. She worked in a dingy bar with bad guys, very young maids and lots of alcohol.
"Boy, I know who you are. I know your secret.", She had spoken to him and leaned closer. He smelled the smoke of cigarettes and alcohol - and a faint scent of lavender. "Play by my rules and I'm not saying I'm serving Akatsuki in my pub."
He had shrugged his shoulders casually, but she had hit him with his own weapons. She had retrieved the remains of the man they had to clean up from their hiding place.
"Why did he have to die? Did he know too much?" The old woman's gray eyes sparkled aggressively. She was hunchbacked - her hair graying, her eyes also gray, but much warmer.
"What do you want, Omi?", Deidara switched himself into the mess.
"A puppet."
"A what, un?"
"A puppet," he repeated - Sasori - unmoved. He didn't know the meaning of the word - commissioned doll, he heard that for the first time - but the mere fact that it was about a "doll" made him curious.
"A commissioned doll - with angel curls, a round porcelain face and bright blue eyes and a dress - oh, a dream made of midnight blue silk - the wings as white as the innocence in their eyes - can you do it, boy?"
“What, what?” Deidara giggled stupidly. "Don't get your hopes up. With the order doll in angel look, the gray of her eyes and her hair doesn't make up for it either, for that you need ..."
"Shut up, Deidara!", He cut him off, put his mug on the table and walked to the door. Once there, he turned around again. "I accept your order."

The job was accepted, the work started. His hands hurt from the constant measuring and cutting and planing and trying, but the finishing touches were missing. The hair was not curly enough, the wings not swinging enough, the midnight blue not strong enough ... At some point when she smiled at him - through the eyes, the face, the wings, the dress, through the hands that held the shining candle and through the smiling lips themselves - Sasori knew that the old woman would be very happy about her angel. The commissioned angel was perfect.

"Absolutely," said the old woman with wet eyes and a look on her face. "Ken will be happy about it."
Sasori didn't have to ask. Apparently, she thought that he deserved the explanation so much because he had put so much trouble with the commissioned angel.
"Ken is my little nephew. He is all I have had since his parents were killed in an attack on Orochimaru." Her gaze moved into the distance. "You died very peacefully, I think ... As peaceful as Yuri ..." She pressed the angel to her chest.Fresh tears wet his golden angel curls.

Later Sasori also learned of the importance of Yuri. Yuri was supposed to be Ken's sister, but the day his mother went into labor, her village was attacked. Only Ken survived because he was visiting his grandmother on vacation. Yuri, a being who was not even allowed to see the light of day, had perhaps passed into his commissioned angel - at least her spirit, because the gold of the curls, the porcelain of the face, the blue of the eyes and the white of the wings shone in them To shine even more in the poor of the old woman ...