Thanks goes to my a href=" u/1033850/Angelas"love/a who introduced me to Naruto in the first place, and who beta'ed this.
i.
The desert is vast, moonlit in shades of blue and silvers. The whispers of the sands, coarse and soft. The skittering of scorpions, the sliding of snakes, and insects just beneath the surface. It's alive and it's not, always on the verge of death.
They walk faster during nights, rest, if they must, during day. And even in the shell of Hiruko, Deidara's prattle is inescapable. It's only before dawn that he falls silent, as Sasori shifts aside Hiruko's shield and stares up at the desert sky and its stars.
But not this night.
Look, Sasori, my man, Deidara murmurs and points to the west where a light licks over the firmament before it extinguishes. A shooting star.
That's art, Deidara says, blazing for one moment only.
No , Sasori says. No , and he does not look at Deidara, but at the eternal empyrean. A breeze picks up, swiping sand over their feet. Deidara kneels and lets himself fall back onto his elbows. His hair is bereft of colour in the night, thick fall of pale grey. He turns towards him, bending over Hiruko's shell. His gaze is hooded, quieter than before.
Do you, Deidara murmurs and grazes his fingers against Sasori's cheek, feel anything at all?
Sasori offers nothing. Deidara's fingertips are but a whisper against his shell, then they are gone. Silence lingers between them. The east illumens. Sasori shuts Hiruko's shield above himself once more. Darkness. Within it, he is almost boundless.
He awakes at nightfall. His left hand twitches, his chakra strings tingle and Hiruko jitters to life. Outside, Deidara shifts too.
The sand is still warm, Deidara says.
Hiss of it, crumbs of it against Hiruko's side. The sand slides underneath the puppet's feet as Sasori moves it. He watches Deidara with Hiruko's eyes. The boy grins, runs his hands through the sand. Dusk dresses Deidara in hues of red.
Lets get moving, Sasori says. I hate to—
Yes, yes I know , Deidara says. Last light catches in his eyes, then night collides with the earth. It's always quick in the desert.
They are close to Sunagakure now, they will arrive by morning. It's been over twenty years since Sasori last saw it. Time passes him by without meaning. He does not think of the village, he thinks only of what they must do. Shadows blur all shapes, but Deidara is there beside him.
It'll be beautiful, Deidara says, elated, worthy of me.
What are you blabbering?
Deidara turns towards him, The fire. And death. He opens his palm, revealing one of his mouths, chewing away. Trust me, my man. He bends low, palm against Hiruko's cheek, tongue of it flickering against the cloth covering Hiruko's jaw.
You'll feel so alive.
They walk quickly. There's a jump to Deidara's step and a hum under his breath, loud enough for Sasori to hear. Deidara catches him staring, and laughs. He turns away.
The night fades. They rest once more, an hour before dawn. The captain of the guard should be on his way by now, ensnared in Sasori's jutsu.
On the horizon, the rock-hewn walls of Sunagakure. The sun rises, a wavering orb blazing in the east. Red light bleeds into the clouds. Their shadows lengthen behind them.
They move.
ii.
He feels nothing but the twitching coils of impatience. He watches Deidara fight after he has dealt with the guards at the gate. Explosion after explosion ruptures the sky. The jinchūriki proves stronger than expected. But Deidara succeeds, in the end.
Once more, they are on their way, leaving chaos in their wake, and enough traps to delay anyone foolish enough to follow them. This time, they do not rest for the first two days. Deidara climbs onto his bird to sleep when the sun rises, sheltered by clay feathers. His empty sleeve flutters in the wind, blood caked on the frayed ends. Sasori uses a jutsu to create other trails to hide their tracks. All the while, the jinchūriki lies coiled within the tail feathers of Deidara's bird, unconscious. And soon to die.
Deidara wakes with a groan and a cough, reaching for his waterskin.
If you covered your mouth, you'd lose less moisture, Sasori hisses.
Oh shut up, Deidara croaks. When was the last time you were thirsty?
He snaps Hiruko's head upwards—and strikes with his scorpion tail. Deidara dodges in the last moment. The boy lands on his feet, sand whisking left and right.
My, my, look who's in a bad mood today.
Keep moving.
Deidara pops a food pill into his mouth while walking. His steps are certain and he seems unfazed by his injury.
Soon the One Tail will be ours, Deidara says. Now cheer up, my man, hm?
He replies nothing. For him, there is only necessity, only tools, and no toys. Power yields him no pleasure, it is but to make, and make for eternity. For is he not eternal?
iii.
The jinchūriki is dead and the Shukaku is theirs.
Deidara sits on the corpse, tapping his foot, eyes wide and grin stretching his lips. Outside the gate, their enemies. And she. Granny Chiyo. Sasori does not move. Just waits. It's inevitable now. She must die at his hand.
Tremors crack the stone and the gate shatters open in an explosion of rock.
Deidara blathers on about art. Then he takes off with the corpse, luring the other jinchūriki along. It leaves the girl and Chiyo to him. They wait, he sees them whispering, discussing him. No emotion stirs. He's hollow from his toes to his head.
Then they fight.
He doesn't hold back. He says, My own grandmother, I wouldn't feel anything if I killed her, and he knows it to be true. Chiyo speaks of his father, of his mother, the puppets he first made of them now at her command, he remembers how he drew them around himself, remembers the moment he realised they would not come back, remembers it all. He stares at her and attacks again. Her eyes have dimmed, but the love in them has not. And perhaps that, is the worst of it.
He is not as they are, he's but an echo of what he was and wished. The desert has never left him, or maybe he has never left the desert. Ever on the verge of death while the years stretch on behind him.
They ask him what he is, and he reveals his body to them. He stands bare before them, bereft of miracle or mystery. Not quite a puppet. Never to be finished for he needs this last clump of human flesh. He's made himself—and he sees the dread in their eyes—the only thing he could be.
They continue to fight. It is time to end this.
When he lies dying between the puppets of his father and mother, consciousness bleeding out of him, he thinks, Deidara might've been right after all.
vi.
It's the first night on their way to Sunagakure. The last of dusk has faded and the first stars have risen, piercing the dark blue, rivaling the crescent moon. The air is clear, temperatures dropping rapidly. Coarse hiss of sand all around them, dust of it on their clothes.
One day, even the skies will be empty of stars, Deidara says as they walk. He grins at Hiruko's open back, right at Sasori, teeth gleaming pearly in the moonlight. My man, imagine you could watch that last moment of light!
Nonsense, Sasori says.
Deidara laughs, sound lavish in the near-silence. One day, I will go out like that. With a big, big—he spreads his arms, hands describing a smooth curve—bang! He says it joyously, with anticipation.
For once, Sasori doesn't doubt him.
You'll miss me when I'm gone, Deidara adds, crossing his arms behind his head as he walks.
No, Sasori says.
Deidara glances at him and stops.
Impatience flares up in Sasori. They don't have forever.
Deidara narrows his eyes.
I'm not waiting up on you, Sasori says, spurring Hiruko forward.
After a moment, Deidara follows and continues to prattle. The boy is inexhaustible. It's only at dawn that he quiets.
They lay themselves to sleep, sheltered behind a dune and the wings of a clay bird. The ends of its feathers seem to graze the night.
He can hear Deidara breathe, quiet but not asleep. Sand swishes as he moves. He peeks over Hiruko's shell, hair falling softly. His brows are pinched, lips tight.
Sasori wants to ask what this is about. Deidara's face blocks out the moonlight. He kisses him. Sasori doesn't react, waits until the boy draws back.
Why would you give it up, Deidara asks. Your flesh.
Sasori doesn't look at him. He thinks, I am become art.
Why wouldn't I? He asks instead.
Deidara looks at him a long while. Then he says, quietly,
To feel alive.