A/N: This was just a cool idea that I had. Perhaps it will become a many-chaptered saga if you people like it; if not, it will remain a happy tale in my mind and computer.
Demyx: Whyy have you abandoned usss?
Crow: Sorry, bud, but right now the Naruto world is ever so much more appealing. Especially the Akatsuki (which I love!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto in any way, shape, or form. That is all.
It was a day a few weeks after Deidara joined the Akatsuki. He was getting to know the partner he had just met, and they were sitting in a hotel room the leader had rented for them and two other Akatsuki members. To Deidara's shock and anger, they were Itachi and Kisame.
"I can't believe Leader-sama is making us share a hotel room, un," Deidara grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.
Itachi stared at him with his Sharingan eyes. "You're in no position to whine," he said flatly. "Not until you're strong enough to defeat me."
"Aw, Sasori's not so bad," Kisame said, grinning as he stretched his arms into the air. He was grinning because neither he nor Sasori had been mentioned thus far as being a problem. "After all, he knows the greatest story never told."
This piqued Deidara's curiosity. "Greatest story never told?" he repeated. "Then how can it be the greatest if it's never been told, un?"
"It just is," Kisame replied. Even Itachi nodded.
Deidara turned to Sasori. He was still getting used to the fact that Sasori was a puppet and often hid inside Hiruko, another puppet. "What's this story?" he asked his partner.
Sasori stared at him with unblinking eyes. "I can't tell you," he said calmly. "It's the greatest story never told. I can't tell it, then, can I?"
"But Kisame and Itachi know it, un!" Deidara whined. "Come on, Sasori no Danna!"
Sasori blinked. "What did you call me?" he asked.
Deidara smirked. They had already gotten into an argument about art, and Sasori had come close to spearing Deidara through with Hiruko's tail. "I respect you, Danna," Deidara teased. "Now, tell me this story!"
"I can't," Sasori repeated, amused inside that Deidara called him 'Danna.'
"Then how to Itachi and Kisame know it, un?" Deidara wanted to know.
"He didn't exactly tell it," Kisame supplied.
"Then how did you hear it?" Deidara demanded.
"Okay, I can't take this anymore," Kisame said suddenly, laughing. Even Itachi seemed to smile a little.
Deidara looked around, having the feeling that he'd just been messed with. "What?" he demanded, frowning.
"The greatest story never told is just a phrase," Sasori told him. "It changes with each telling, growing with each new storyteller."
"Tell the greatest story never told," Kisame begged. "You always end up telling it so well!"
Deidara was still confused. "I don't get it, un," he whined.
"You'll understand," Sasori said, sighing as he gave in. Kisame punched the air with a fist and grinned sharkishly.
"Yes!"
Itachi acted indifferent as he sat down on his bed. Kisame set his sword down next to his own bed and grabbed the remains of their meal. Walking to the window, he dumped the plate upside down, raining chicken bones and other scraps on an unfortunate civilian's head.
"Hey!" the man shouted, shaking his fist up at Kisame. Kisame merely smirked and threw three kunai, which embedded themselves in the man's palms and his chest. The man gulped – the kunai had barely nicked the skin on his chest, and the ones on his palms trickled blood – and slowly backed away.
"Be glad I'm not bored," Kisame called, "or you'd be missing limbs by now." Grumbling happily – he loved it when people got all angry – he sauntered his way back to his bed.
Deidara sat down on his stomach, his hands on his chin as he observed his Danna. Sasori's face was as emotionless as it had been since Deidara had first met him, but his eyes were a bit different. Not really sad, but – oh, what was the word? Deidara fumbled with his vocabulary, wishing he'd paid more attention in class. Nostalgic. That was the word.
"This is the greatest story never told," Sasori said quietly. Kisame dimmed the lights, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. The three S-rank criminals settled down for storytime.
"Once upon a time, there was a young boy," Sasori began softly, making them lean forward. "This little boy lived in a village full of windy sand with his mother and his father. He
was a happy young child, and he loved his grandmother especially. She taught him how to work with puppets, which he loved more than everything.
"One day, the young boy was out in the outskirts of town, playing on the old swing set that was still set up. The chains were rusty, and the plastic seats crackled in the heat, but it was still one of the best places to go for children, because everyone knew about the magical powers the swing set held. Every child in the village knew that the swing set could grant wishes.
"The boy didn't care about the wishes at the time, but about what caused the wishes, because the older children said that the wish granters were actually spirits that hadn't moved on, and that sometimes, if you were lucky, the spirits would tell you your future.
"This young boy spent hours going over every inch of the swing set, peering into the slide to try and glimpse a silvery spirit, crawling around the poles that supported the swings in the hopes that a shimmery apparition might reveal itself. Other children came and went, and he spoke with them, but only in passing, because they recognized that he was on a quest to find the spirits. They let him be, because they, too, had tried to find the spirits of the swing set, and knew that it was a quest best undertaken alone.
"The sun was high overhead when the boy took a break, eating an apple he had brought from home. That little boy sat on one of the worn plastic seats and curled one arm around the rust-spotted chain, and ate his apple.
"As he was eating, he felt a sudden cold come over him, which was unusual for their village, which was normally warm. He dropped his apple and looked up in shock to find an apparition hovering in the air before him.
"The apparition had a pale, silvery appearance, and rippled in the noonday sun like waves of heat off the dunes. Too-wide eyes set on a hazily defined face stared at the boy. 'You called me here with your will,' the thing intoned. 'What is it you wish to know?'
"The boy gulped. 'I wish to know my future,' he said solemnly, wriggling with excitement. None of the other children ever mentioned actually meeting an apparition!
'"Are you certain this is your wish?' the spirit moaned. The boy nodded eagerly. The spirit closed its terrible eyes and hummed lowly. 'You will lose people very close to you,' the spirit said mournfully, opening its eyes once more. 'You will experience death and sadness. There are two paths you can take, one leading to despair and the forever wandering of lost souls, and the other leading to a dark road paved with sorrows, but that will eventually find its way to sunrise.'
"The boy was shocked at the horrible nature of this foretelling. 'Is there anything else you can tell me?' he asked, hoping desperately for some good news.
"The apparition began to fade away in the noonday sun. 'Do not harden your heart,' it called as it dissipated. 'Your ability to feel will be your saving grace.
"The apparition was gone. The young boy stood up, frowning in concentration. 'I must find a way to stop this tragedy,' he proclaimed to the swing set. 'I will!' He raced away back to his house. Unfortunately, he was distracted by his grandmother, who had brought a brand new puppet to play with, and it had poison needles inside its mouth!
"The boy came to forget his meeting with the spirit, and when he did remember it, he decided it must have been the heat playing tricks on his head. His heart insisted that it was true, but his head argued that it wasn't true, because how could it be possible? He confided the encounter to his mother, who smiled and pat his head, but he could see that he was humoring her.
"And the boy never spoke of the incident again."
Kisame sighed happily. "I love never told stories," he said, yawning and stretching out his arms.
Deidara frowned, resting his head on his arms and looking up to observe Sasori. "That was a strange tale, Danna," he stated.
"And now comes the final part of the tale," Sasori said mysteriously. Kisame sat up eagerly, having forgotten this part. "This phrase has been passed on from storyteller to storyteller. Since this is the first time you've heard the greatest story never told, it falls on your shoulders to pass it on, and keep it alive."
Deidara shivered. "What are you talking about, un?" he demanded. Kisame hushed him.
"This is the greatest story never told. It is now your story. Bring the story into your heart and make it your own. Tell a story from your long forgotten past, a story no one else has ever heard. Choose someone you believe needs to hear the story. Pass it on to others, and the greatest story never told will be told." Sasori's eyes locked with Deidara's, and he knew that he would have to heed Sasori's words. Carefully the young terrorist memorized the phrase.
"Got it, un," he said. "'This is the greatest story never told. It is now your story. Bring the story into your heart and make it your own. Tell a story from your long forgotten past, a story no one else has ever heard. Choose someone you believe needs to hear the story. Pass it on to others, and the greatest story never told will be told, un,'" he recited.
There was a brief moment of silence in the hotel room. Deidara began to notice little things that clued him in to Sasori's mood, despite the fact that the man was a puppet. He wondered about the little boy from the story, who was (if he understood correctly) Sasori from some point earlier in his life. He wondered what Sasori's dark past was, but knew it would be difficult to pry it out of the impatient man.
"Well," Itachi sighed. "This is all well and good, but if we're to assassinate that diplomat tomorrow I'm sure you will all need your rest."
"And you, Itachi-san?" Kisame asked innocently, a wicked gleam in his eye.
"I," Itachi said loftily, "am above such mortal matters." He put a hand to his chest, the image ruined when Kisame jabbed him in the gut.
It dawned on Deidara that Itachi might actually have a sense of humor after all. He scowled, because that made it harder to hate the Sharingan weilder.
"If you're above such mortal matters, then why don't we just go kill him now?" Kisame challenged. Itachi answered, and the partners began to bicker. Sasori sighed and rolled his eyes, obviously accustomed to their behavior.
"So, Danna – you honestly believe that true art is something that lasts forever, un?" Deidara asked wickedly. Sasori blinked and smirked, before launching into their familiar argument over art.
Deidara smiled inside, searching through his memories to find the greatest story never told, wondering who he would find that seemed to need to hear it.
Oh yes, this story would be told.
Well? Then Deidara would run into someone and tell his story, who would tell their story, who would tell their story, and well, you get the idea. What do you think?