Disclaimer – I do not own the characters of Naruto, only the plotline that I inserted them into.
Chapter One – Promises Not to Keep
"I wonder if we could have been...friends." Sasori said quietly, staring straight ahead so that it appeared he was far away, in some deep thought. "Just friends, mind you; nothing more. But he was -" He broke off abruptly, swallowing a lump in his throat - the one that wasn't really there. Then he smiled, in a sad way - slipping a metaphorical paradox into the mix was a subtle way of confusing the viewers further. "He was a survivor." Directing his gaze at the closest camera lens, his eyes narrowed into a silent threat that vibrated through the air. And so am I.
A petite woman (all sloppy curls, tanned skin and sparkly pink nail-polish) reclining in a lounge chair across from him returned his smile in a practically identical way; however, Sasori caught the small tug at the bottom left corner of her perfectly glossed mouth - the one that indicated she found this fake interview as amusing as he did. "I'm sure it must have been one of your hardest...killings yet." She shuddering in a way that was just so wonderfully superficial - right on cue. As if this woman had a problem with murder.
"It -" Sasori inclined his head downward slightly, purposefully lowering his eyes just a fraction to add to the effect. That little detail you always have to remember, He silently contemplated, each scene of manipulation is all about atmosphere. Atmosphere and magic tricks. "I'm sorry. I don't like to talk about..."
"Yes, of course." The woman replied, her eyes glazing over in mock sympathy, "I quite understand. The thought of losing someone that you saw as a brother..."
"He was more than that." Sasori carefully molded his voice into a rough undertone, taking it down a few notches and adding the harsh background beat of broken glass scraping gravel. He gave himself a mental nod - yes, that was the proper dialect providing equal amounts of grief, regret, and barely held back guilt. Checking his posture quickly, he made sure to straighten up like a frightened deer in headlights...as if he just realized the cameras were all focused on him. Allowing a slight blush to form in his cheeks, he practically whispered, "I-I'm sorry, I was just thinking aloud...please, ignore me. It's not important." Again, that added in, subtle perceptibility of lowering his head - showing that the information he held back was very important.
The woman leaned forward, maintaining the slight frown that showed curiosity mingled with a sick fascination. "It's all right, but I do believe our viewers tonight would be very interested in what you have to say. Tell me, just what was he to you?"
"He...was the only person I've ever felt close to since I first started them - the killings. When he first joined, I thought him to be one of the most capable fighters I've ever known. But that didn't draw my attention so much as the fact that he was so...gentle with the world around him. If you could have seen him..." Sasori shook his head and allowed a happier side of his smile to become visible - the smile that only reached his surface and dug no deeper. "His compassion, his innocence." His ignorance. "I suppose I felt attracted to him because he was the polar opposite of me. Kind, spirited...he made me feel alive again." Then his smile dropped dramatically. "Before I realized the other side - the part of him that was desperate for life, for living - it was too late."
"And you were forced to turn your blade on your comrade," The woman finished Sasori's story for him, gently, as if he might break at anything above a monotone.
"Not a comrade," Sasori interjected, "A friend."
"What a bunch of bull," Deidara Aozora commented, staring at the grainy TV screen hanging above his head. Each prison cell in the Chicago City Custodial Center - the "Quad C" as it was known among the gangs - had one, to keep the contained lowlifes a chance to see what their wonderful government was up to now.
Deidara's azure blue eyes were two alert, gleaming orbs in the dank darkness of the chamber. Funny, He thought now, chuckling slightly, that despite all the modern tech crapping this city up through the years, prisons have always been the same from the start of humanity.
Of course, he doubted that they had TV's back in the time of the caveman. Evolution had certainly taken its course since then. Certainly. Deidara once again kicked at the padded, soundproof walls surrounding him - this attempt was proven faulty, as he was magnetized to a steel chair bolted to the floor due to powered metal bands around his wrists and ankles. There was no source of light in here but the old-fashioned 2-D screen directly in front of him and twenty feet in the air.
No door either, Deidara thought bitterly, that would be too easy. This is the 31st century, after all. To make up for the said lack of door, a circular tube-like elevator would descend from the ceiling every time someone wanted to visit the blonde's humble abode. Which, so far, hadn't been often. Then again, he had only been here for all of three hours.
Turning his attention back at the screen, Deidara's keen eyes scanned the pompous and polished lounge area that had been used for the interview. An assortment of pearly white recliner seats had been set up over a plush champagne carpet; the decidedly comfortable and lovely arrangement had been placed on a platform made of warm, light wood raised about two inches off of the surrounding floor space. Soft lighting, and a background of tall windows looking out onto the midnight city of Chicago completed the fantastical effect. The masterful cameraman narrowed and widened his vision at just the right moments, occasionally cutting right to one of the participants' faces.
Deidara recognized both active parties in the interview. One was not so significant - Willow Harris, a popular reporter for the TAL news program; TAL standing for, "Tell All" Local news. The blonde always secretly thought of it as an acronym for "Truth And Lies". Willow was good with words, but the way they fashioned her up in skin-tight dresses that glittered like fairy dust and a few pounds worth of makeup made her seem painfully fake.
The other participant on the other hand, was not so casual. Sasori Sekishokudo was a strange character - shrouded in mystery and wrapped in a riddle, as the saying went. His vibrant red hair and shaded hazel eyes (not to mention gorgeous pale complexion) made him a knockout on screen, but it was his way of speaking that had captured his audience from day one. The ability to be able to switch to multiple different tones and expressions while still maintaining that mesmerizing sway of power over those present was - odd. And it made him the perfect liar. At least, that's what Deidara knew to be true; funny enough, he didn't have a lot of support, particularly from the population of teenage girls.
What was especially weird about this late-night interview was the fact that Sasori never allowed himself in the visual perception of any camera, much less openly shown to the public. Deidara quirked an eyebrow as he wondered what the red-head was playing at.
He didn't know much about Sasori's past - who did, really? - but he did know of the latter's current position in society. Who didn't? Sasori was the famed leader of Akasuna, one of the most widespread crime syndicates in Chicago. These groups were known to the American people as Fringes, because they were the border between the past and future of the States - if you wanted to get fancy. Fringes had been created by the now Communistic government and placed in every major city across the country. Their purpose - to lower the growing population and eliminate all those who disagree with the Board of Directors.
As far as Deidara knew, there were about a dozen different Fringes in Chicago alone; of course, many were small and insignificant - there were only several major ones, according to the TAL morning talk show. Akasuna was the most popular of the batch in the Board's eyes at the moment - Deidara had sworn to anyone who would listen that the group must be made up of nothing but psychopaths and ruthless killers. They had caused over 20,000 deaths in the past year.
Sasori's name had risen through the ranks until he became the epitome of fear and city-wide distress. Deidara had to admit, he was absolutely beautiful to watch as he spewed lies across the screen. Or maybe he himself was just a touch insane and felt attracted to other such insanity coming to life through television.
At the moment, Sasori and Willow Harris were discussing a member of Akasuna - apparently the most recent one, who had joined the syndicate as a sixteen-year-old. Deidara knew that all that crap Sasori was giving the reporter was completely fake and shallow. Sasori had never cared for anyone in his entire life, and this boy was no exception. In fact, Deidara had heard (as a tabloid rumor, of course) that the murderous red-head had killed the boy because he refused to torture his twin brother, who was part of a different group at the time, for information. Naturally, Sasori had dished out this cock-and-bull story about how the boy had been his "friend" and that he had "shown him another side of life" and all that junk. Then Sasori was forced to kill the boy after the latter "betrayed" him. No clarification was given on the details.
"And how did you feel in the moment when you were forced to kill young Sai?" Willow Harris asked, directing towards him her last question of the night.
The camera narrowed in on Sasori's face, and Deidara watched closely for any sign of falsity. The red-head did not so much as twitch. "I had stabbed him - a clean cut to the heart, to reduce the suffering - and I don't remember his expression through the tears," He said, his face frozen in a far-away expression, as if he were reliving the moment. "He looked up at me, and I asked him a final question. 'Why?' It was the one statement he never answered - and, coincidentally, the most important of them all. The light left his eyes...and I felt dead again."
At that moment, the screen shut off and a sharp cranking sound was heard as the circular tube descended from the heavens like salvation on metal wings. Deidara watched it intently as it came to a rest on the far side of the cell, and the heavy steel door swung open. A burly man with thick, tree-like arms and tattooed shoulders under a plain white sleeveless stepped out of its confines. Instantly, florescent lights lit up around the edges of the cell, so that Deidara could properly witness the ugly scowl the man was sending his way.
The blonde smirked. "Could you keep it down? I'm trying to watch the news, hm."
"Shut it, punk!" The man screamed, spit flying from his mouth. How stereotypical.
"Ugh," Deidara muttered, rolling his eyes, "Honestly. Now I know where the saying, 'Bull in a china cabinet' comes from...or was it a china shop?"
"I thought I told ya to shut yer fat mouth!"
"Well did you or didn't you, un?"
The guard peered at his thin prisoner, magnetized to a chair against the padded wall, and frowned. "The hell are ya saying, freak?"
"Your exact words were, 'I thought I told you to shut your fat mouth'. How could you forget what you just said? Nah, forget I asked. I just remembered that the Board doesn't hire anyone with an IQ above the range of fifty, hm." Deidara said casually, shrugging his shoulders as best he could while his wrists were strapped down.
Instead of answering, the guard took out a small silver remote and held it in his hand. Deidara winced as he pressed the top button, expecting lightening to shoot from the chair and electrocute him. The result proved to be the exact opposite. The thin metal bands containing him retracted, and a second later he was free, rubbing his hands along his sore wrists. He stood gingerly, testing his legs again after hours of sitting still. Then he looked up at the guard suspiciously. Always an ulterior motive. "So, what's with the change of heart, un? Thinking of becoming a rebel?"
"Not a chance." He jerked his head up towards the ceiling, indicating the lobby above them. "Ya've got a pretty young lady up there bailing ya out as we speak."
This peaked Deidara's interest. "She blonde?"
"Practically your twin..."
That's because she is, moron. Get a clue.
"She didn't have enough money to get ya out completely, so she and I made a little deal..."
I don't like where this is going...
"...that she would treat me some special night. I like 'em young," He added, winking at the seething teenager before him.
"You come anywhere near her, asshole, and you'll regret it." Deidara growled, stepping towards his captor.
Normally, the guard wouldn't be intimidated by a scrawny young boy wearing ratty, patched clothing and worn Nike trainers, but something about the kid's eyes - the fire inside them even while they remained perfect blue orbs - frightened him. He chuckled nervously. "Just messing with yer mind, ya damn brat. Get in there before I strangle ya with my bare hands."
Deidara visibly relaxed before striding over to the cylindrical compartment, keeping a slow, meandering pace. As the guard fell into step behind him, he counted the seconds in his mind, down from ten. Heartbeat, sweat coated skin. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Five.
Four.
Three and two, blended in an instant.
One.
The flash of adrenaline right on cue. Deidara whirled swiftly on the back of his heel, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it into an impossible bend. He barely registered the cry of pain, the red blurring his vision. In another second, Deidara had the man's gun in his steady hand. The guard stumbled back, holding his right arm close to his body.
"N-no. Please..."
"Begging now, are we, un? How many lives did you steal with your bare hands? How many girls have you broken against their will? No more. NO MORE!" The blonde screamed.
"Ya-ya won't do it. Yer just a kid. I don't think ya'll shoot me, ya don't have the freaking g-guts," The man stuttered, his mind twisted in agony and fear, making him form half-made sentences.
"What, un? You think I can't be like them? Like the people on that screen, in that interview? You all MAKE ME SICK!" Suddenly, Deidara's face grew deathly calm, until it almost matched Sasori's trademark emotionless mask that he walked around with. "I'm sorry you did this to yourself." He pulled the trigger.
Blood spurted from the man's sweaty temple and coated the walls. His body fell back and his head smashed into the metal chair, caving his skull inward. Then he fell limp to the floor, eyes glazed over, the cruel spark stolen from them by a judge of justice.
Deidara Aozora tossed the gun beside the nameless man's corpse. Then he turned and entered the tube, and the door shut behind him. "Goodbye, hm."
It would be hours before they discovered the body. By then, the killer would be long gone.
"Inoshima Aozora?" The middle-aged woman questioned, peering up through half-rimmed spectacles. Glasses of any kind in this day and age were rare - particularly with the newest improvement made to contact lenses - so the teenager in front of the woman's desk cocked her head politely at them. The woman saw the inquired glance. "Ah, these," She said, tapping them lightly with her mechanical pencil, "My husband gave them to me as a gift. My eyesight was never the best, but that was in a different era..." She trailed off, examining the papers of verification on the desk in front of her. Her salt-and-pepper braids skimmed her elbows as she reached for them.
Ino glanced around at the lobby once again. She made sure to hide her internal anxiety by keeping a cool façade, but she had stood in the lobby of the Chicago City Custodial Center more times then she could count. None of the visits had been pleasant. This room managed to add to the intimidating effect whilst still maintaining a comforting air of security. Though the walls were made of steel and silver (as was the desk, bolted to the floor) it was also slightly artistic in an abstract way. Columns of twisted metal spiraled up to the domed ceiling, and a sapphire light seemed to emanate softly from every surface.
"You are here to pick up Aozora Deidara, correct?"
Ino broke out of her trance and nodded, re-clipping a strand of short blonde hair that had fallen into her bright turquoise eyes. "Yeah. The money's in that envelope, there." She nodded toward the miscellaneous assortment of papers and files.
As the woman took out a pen and signed her signature on a few random lines, Ino nervously straightened her patchwork skirt and tapped her foot impatiently. Where is Deidara? I just want to get out of here... Suddenly, a coarse and familiar pair of hands covered her eyes from behind.
"Guess who?" A voice asked lightly, adding an all too obvious "un".
"Get off of me," Ino replied, shaking him off and crossing her arms. Naturally, her subconscious felt a huge sense of relief as she turned and saw Deidara's smirking expression, but she made sure to scrunch her eyebrows and narrow her eyes into a death glare. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Aw, come on, sis. Chew me out at home for once, will you?"
Ino was about to respond with a scathing comment, when the woman at the desk interrupted them. "That should be all, miss. Be sure to have him in court this Saturday. The appointed date is marked just here," She explained, indicating the paragraph of smeared typing before handing the file to the teen. "Have a nice day."
The younger girl flashed the woman a wide smile of sparkling teeth all in a row. "Thank you so much. Sorry for this," She looked her brother up and down in scorn, "...inconvenience."
"No problem. Don't come again." The woman responded cheerfully, before pulling out her tablet and rapidly typing a message - no doubt to the Board Representative Offices letting them know that another prisoner had just been released.
The middle of a song was always the best part.
Not the beginning – that part was generally monotone, filled with thumping beats and an underlying base tone roaring out the tempo. Nor the end, when the music faded out and left you with a satisfying feeling of finality. For Deidara, it would always be the middle – when your heart and soul were captured by the music, sending your senses soaring out of control, to pleasurable heights. This was the moment that you couldn't hold on to afterward. You couldn't contain it, or even remember the exact feel of it. It was just there and gone. There was no start or end to that feeling – it simply crescendos, then fades. But, as he came to realize, it was never truly gone. Deidara contemplated this as he nodded his head to the beat of the song playing through his iPod earbuds. It was techno music, so not his favorite, but you couldn't often find Pop and Alternative anymore.
Deidara sat on his single-sized bed, leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed. It had been a long day, even longer given the fact that Ino had been scolding him – rather harshly, he believed – ever since he had gotten home. Ever since they left the Quad C, in fact. It took about an hour by tram to get from the prison to downtown Chicago, and it was a trip the blonde siblings took far too often.
They lived in an old, abandoned convenience store, a dull whitewashed building on the outskirts of the city flanked by twin alleyways. It seemed that the owner had left in a hurry, and after the twins were kicked out of their old apartment for lack of paid bills, this seemed to be the best place for them. Maybe it was private property belonging to the government, but they hadn't been caught yet – and it didn't seem like anyone was checking up on the place. It was a two story building, with the bottom half devoted to the store and the upper transformed into a small living space, complete with double bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette-lounge combo. It wasn't ideal, but it was home – the only safe haven Deidara felt he had.
He didn't notice Ino had entered the room until she tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her mouthing words blankly for a few moments before pulling out his earplugs. "Come again, un?"
Ino rolled her eyes. They weren't naturally that bright blue color, but she had found a packet of turquoise contact lenses in the bathroom cabinet, and preferred the shade to her own dull brown irises. Her sharp, irritated expression softened, and she sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "I said I was sorry for yelling at you earlier, twit-brain. Don't make me repeat it." After a few awkward moments in which Ino twisted her hands together and Deidara kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, she finally spoke again, "You want to tell me what happened this time?"
This time. Because there had been a thousand other times before now. Deidara scowled, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's no big deal, really. I was just practicing my art…"
Ino immediately went into a classic face-palm. "So the entire time I thought you were at the Laundromat, you were actually out vandalizing public facilities?"
"Okay, first let me pretend you didn't just compare my art to the destruction of property, un."
"Deidara, spray painting is not considered art." Ino pointed out in exasperation. It felt as if they had had this same conversation a million times. "The only thing it is considered is against the law. Besides –" She added in a lower voice, and Deidara's eyes were instantly drawn to her. "I thought your Fringe days were over."
Her brother scowled and clenched his hands into fists. "My days in Katsu are over. I don't blow stuff up anymore do I, un?"
"Only because I confiscated you short-range grenades," Ino snapped back sharply. Then she sighed in resignation. "I was just making sure."
"Anyway," Deidara snarled, leaning back once again, "That asshole Tora left me to rot in prison too many times. Always letting me take the blame. If I ever meet him again..." The blonde slit his hand across his own throat in one quick motion.
"Don't say things like that. Look, Dei…if you keep getting in trouble with the police, the Board will find out. And the next time the coppers show up around an alley corner, they might have their guns set to kill." She reached out and put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "You know I couldn't go on if something happened to you. You are all I have left." Her grip tightened momentarily, and an intensity burned like fire in her eyes – the same look she had had the day their mother left, or the evening they had been evicted. Then she lowered her head, and the moment was gone. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid."
Deidara shrugged her hand off and stared at her for a few seconds. Then, of course, there was that signature smirk again. "Really Ino, me? Do something stupid? It's like you don't know me at all, hm…"
"Brother," This time she just sounded sad, broken – desperate. "Please."
In all the years he had known her as his sister, from the day she first punched him in the jaw with her tiny fist, he had known she was a fighter. But he had never once seen her beg. He knew that he couldn't mislead her, mainly because he knew himself. His name was practically the definition of "trouble" in this town, and he thought she had understood that. He would be deceiving her. How could he make a covenant of lies? The cocky grin slipped from Deidara's face.
"I promise."
A/N - Yes, this is the first chapter of my first fanfiction. I hope that you as an experienced viewer enjoyed it, and that it is well received to the general public. Honestly, I wasn't sure how this would turn out - I practically wrote it on a whim - and the idea generated from too many sci-fi flicks for hours on end.
A little factor that I feel I must clear up before I leave you - last names. Deidara is commonly paired with the name 'Iwa', as a result of his home village in the show. Stemming from the same concept, Sasori's last name is normally 'Akasuna', this being his murderous title. I decided to take a slightly different turn. From what I've managed to piece together, Aozora is roughly translated into "blue sky". On the other hand, Sekishokudo means "red earth". I figured this would be a good way to imply their differences, while coming up with creative surnames for my characters that no one else had used.
Also: I know that the plot may be slightly confusing for you at the moment, but stick around. I promise it will clear up as you receive more information. I'll try to update weekly for the first few chapters, then perhaps slip into a monthly routine. I'm also working on several other pieces for Naruto that I haven't published yet, and am planning two sequels for this fanfiction. Guess I better shut up and get busy, huh?
Sayonara!