A/N: I am so damn pissed off right now because I had to trade my warm comfortable bed for a toilet because nature called -_-
So I angrily write this fic for a fandom I've never written for before. It's shitty like the toilet bowl I'm sitting on, but fuck it.
Warning: OP as fuck OCs that have some relavence in the story, plus characters from other fandoms despite this not being a crossover. Draco Fucking Malfoy makes an appearance. Just... go with it, please.
Also known as: Rei the Vampire-Demon and Young Master Trunks Briefs dimension hop with 11-year-old Draco Malfoy and and send fem!Deidara on a Dragon Ball Hunt to resurrect Sasori because SasoDei is kind of my OTP atm and because Trunks is a damn brat. You'd be too, if you were 200 years old and stuck in 12 year old body. Don't worry, it's mostly Deidara-centered.
AKA SasoDei with some weird ass plot.
Don't let the the A/N scare you off too badly, because it's not that crack-y. I think.
Trunks Briefs and Shenlong (plus the Dragon Balls) belong to Akira Toriyama.
Draco Malfoy belongs to J.K Rowling.
Rei belongs to me.
And everybody else belongs to the guy that wrote Naruto. *one Google search later* Masashi Kishimoto, yeah.
Everything the Akatsuki stood for, everything they represented...
Was a fool's dream.
Which was why Deidara had little regrets when she blew herself up with one of her clay monsters. The fire tore through her skin in one billionth of a second, ripping her nerves apart and damaging her chakra system beyond repair. Then it began to work on her body, burning away skin and bone.
It was the Ultimate Art.
And it hurt like a damn bitch.
She could almost hear Sasori's bland voice declaring that no, art was not a bang, and no, your explosions are certainly not art, and—
Deidara's lips twitched in amusement, that amusement growing more morbid when she realized that she had somehow made a grave miscalculation on the force of her suicide jutsu.
At least five seconds had passed and she was not dead yet, still falling silently to the ground, where she would be dead for certain; a red splatter on the floor.
Her charred hair whipped across her face, agitating the burns she had received on her cheeks and nose.
Then she stopped falling, her body jerking painfully as she halted in the air.
What?
Deidara blinked her single eye in surprise. The one she normally kept covered behind her hair was gone. Melted. Somehow. She wasn't thinking too clearly.
"Fuck, she's on fire. Rei, bring her down. No eating."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Hey, Malfoy, put her out."
"What?!" Deidara would have winced at the high-pitched whine the third speaker produced, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate. "HOW?! You expect me to do what?! Who do you think you are? My father will hear of this—"
There was a painful thump as Deidara floated down to the ground, her burnt back screaming in protest as she was laid on the grassy hillside.
The sky looked oddly blue from here. Maybe I am dead, un... Is this hell? Eternal damnation was looking good so far. Too bad that there were demons here to spoil her time in hell, but she supposed that they were just doing their job.
You're delusional, brat. Wake up, she heard Sasori snap at the back of her mind.
"You're a wizard, aren't you? Use your avocado-monkey spell!"
"I believe the spell was aguamenti, Young Master."
Danna? Are you still there? Save me from these freaks, un.
He wasn't. He was never there to begin with. She closed her remaining eye. The blueness of the sky was beginning to hurt her iris.
A weak, watery voice called out, "Aguamenti!"
Her flesh sizzled, and Deidara bit her tongue.
"Heal her, Rei. And if you try to eat her organs, then..." There was a pause. "I'll know, because it'll be really obvious and messy."
"As you wish, Young Master." The woman's voice was low and dark. A bit like coffee.
Deidara had never been fond of coffee.
Something hopeful entered the woman's voice. "But perhaps, if you would allow, we could go human hunting, later...?"
Deidara could almost hear the scowl as the boy, who Rei seemingly answered to, said, "Fine, but no crippling the population. We didn't come to this planet for an extermination."
"Extermination?" the boy who had put Deidara out squeaked.
He sounds like he's about to piss himself, un, Deidara thought groggily. She had many questions, but they would have to go unanswered for now.
Something warm flooded very being, repairing the damage to her chakra coils, and Deidara closed her remaining eye.
Sleep tight, brat. Sasori's voice—or, rather, the manifestation of Deidara's subconscious— had returned, and with a vengeance, if the splitting pain in her skull was anything to go by.
When Deidara joined Akatsuki, she really hadn't known what to expect, though she would have never admitted such a thing.
The Uchiha with the sharingan—Itachi—had curb stomped her in a battle, and she (begrudgingly) agreed to join.
Damn bastard.
Then she'd met Sasori, except not really. Rather, she'd met Hiruko. He only became Sasori later. They worked well together, but there wasn't much talking outside of missions.
Until she inadvertently insulted his art.
"Hiruko?" Deidara echoed as she shuffled her cards, Kisame sitting opposite her. "You meant that ugly puppet belonging to Danna?" She smirked. "It looks like a cockroach, un."
Kisame had been very amused. "Oh? And does he know that?"
He's looking at something behind me, Deidara quickly realized. She turned to face Sasori's impassive brown gaze.
Kisame snuck a peek at Deidara's cards but she either wasn't paying attention or didn't care.
"A cockroach, huh?" Sasori's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "You have no business degrading art, especially when your clay monstrosities resemble gray piles of shit."
Kisame let out a low whistle that the other Akatsuki members ignored. Deidara narrowed her eyes. "Art? You wouldn't know art if it slapped you across the face and raped your wooden ass!" She stood angrily, her eyes burning. "Art is fleeting—ephemeral! The transience of my art—my explosions—is exactly what makes it beautiful—what makes it art, un!"
She marched right up to him, using her height to her advantage. If Sasori was bothered by that, he didn't show it. His feathers were rarely ruffled unless he was kept waiting for too long, but as Deidara had further insulted his art...
A lesson was in order.
"You are a fool. Your explosions, while impressive in their own right, are a cheap imitation of true art. Art is everlasting. Art is eternal. There is no greater beauty than seeing the tell-tale signs of time wearing down others knowing that you are infinite."
It went on and on, even after Kisame was gone from the room, and Deidara had just about shouted herself hoarse. Sasori, on the other hand, possessed no lungs or vocal cords, and could have kept speaking forever if he wanted to.
"Your voice must be tiring," Sasori said. "Yet another reason why my art is superior. You cannot even defend your false views."
The unspoken words of I win and you lose hung in the air, and Deidara gritted her teeth. She couldn't let such a travesty slide.
"Oh yeah?" She hated how croaky her voice sounded. "Defend this, un!" And without truly thinking it through, she threw a C1 at him.
The explosion that followed was loud and made Deidara's ears pop. Grinning, she lifted her hand, forming a 'gun' sign. "Bang, Danna."
She shouted when he threw her out the hole in the wall that her explosion had created with his chakra threads.
Pein had not been a happy man that day.
The man sitting in front of her was practically undressing her with his eyes. Deidara deadpanned at him.
Fucking fat cats, she seethed inwardly. Just wait until the mission is over, un! I'll shove your dicks so far up your ass that you'll be able to taste your own STDs!
"Oi, brat," Sasori said when they exited the dingy room after their mission briefing. "You won't be killing anyone tonight. He's one of Leader-sama's more... favourable contractors."
She scowled. "One of many, I'm sure, un. I'm sure no one will miss him. Not even his wife, what, with his wandering eyes."
"Don't be an idiot." They walked past a mechanic fixing a vending machine. "Leader-sama would be most displeased."
Begrudgingly, Deidara let it go, though her irritation returned when she found out what their contractor had done with the accomodations. One room. One bathroom. One bed.
One bed.
But the problem was not what most would probably have with a male and a female sharing.
The problem was—
"It's so fucking small," Deidara said flatly. "How are we both going to sleep on that, un?"
"Shy, brat?"
"Hardly. I just don't want a stiff neck in the morning. At least when we sleep outside, there's room."
If Deidara didn't know any better, she would go as far as to say that something sly entered Sasori's lifeless eyes.
"Oh?" His back was to her, but his head twisted around so that they were facing one another. "I'll be more than happy to oblige a tasteless brat, then."
"What are you—" Deidara barely dodged his chakra threads. "What the hell! You were going to throw me out the window, again, weren't you, un!"
She didn't know why, but Sasori had a habit of defenestrating her whenever he found an opportunity. Deidara supposed that he found it humorous simply because she did not. Considering he had turned himself into a puppet, his caustic and cynical sense of humor fitted the madman. But she didn't have too much room to judge, especially since she had abandoned her village in favor of blowing things up.
But in her defence, it was art. Art was something that could not be confined or restrained, lest it explode. Literally, in Deidara's case.
"Congratulations, you're finally learning." Sasori glanced out the window to examine the night sky. "It's getting late. You should turn in for the night."
Right, she remembered with a small jolt. Puppets don't sleep. Which meant that she had the bed all to herself if Sasori was feeling kind. She couldn't believe that she had forgotten such a detail in her annoyance with their contractor.
It was late when Deidara got to sleep, and even later when she woke up. It was the early hours of the morning, not quite three o'clock yet.
Her hair fell loosely over her face as she sat up, her throat parched. She reached for the canteen on her bedside table, waking a little more when she saw Sasori sitting across the room. Somewhere during the night, he had taken the initiative to create a small, makeshift workshop using a desk, a coffee table, and a couch. He was working on one of his smaller puppets. The name eluded Deidara.
"Why are you up?" Sasori inquired without turning around.
"Thirsty. Not all of us are inorganic, un."
He clicked his tongue. Artificial tongue. Deidara couldn't be sure, and she could think of no reasonable or appropriate way to sate her curiousity.
"Get to sleep," he commanded, though not unkindly. "We have a long day ahead of us, tomorrow."
For once, Deidara didn't fight him, wriggling her body back inside the sheets, though not to the point where it would hinder her movement if enemy ninja were to attack. Then she plopped her head on the pillow and promptly fell asleep.
Silently, Sasori observed her rest from where he sat. In sleep, she looked almost ethereal. It was a shame that her crude behavior ruined her lovely visage. Had circumstances been different, he would have loved to turn her into one of his puppets.
When they returned from their mission to collect the money, the fat cat, as Deidara had described him, had had the audacity to grope her ass as they left the office.
He could see that she was this close to snapping and going on a murder spree. So, naturally, he took matters into his own hands.
When Deidara was not looking, too busy sulking or seething (she was very good at sulking and seething, especially when it came to insufferable idiots like their contractor), Sasori strung the fat cat up by the balls and left him to scream on the ceiling fan.
One genjutsu later and Kimura Toshio, with the last thing he had ever seen being Hiruko's admittedly unsightly visage, had died from a vending machine related accident according to all of his men. Pein would be none the wiser. Vending machines were very dangerous things, after all.
It pleased Sasori to see the wicked grin on Deidara's face. That eye of hers—the one she kept behind her canary's wing—was trained to see through genjutsu, and he had no doubt that she knew what he had done.
"You should have saved some for me," she said casually on their way back to base.
"That would have been unwise. There would be nothing left of the place if I had let you have your way."
"Tsk. You know me so well, Danna."
There was a beat.
"But thanks, un," she added reluctantly.
Sasori didn't reply. He didn't need to.
The mission before their last mission together was supposed to have been a simple one in some small no-name town.
All the village people had pooled in their money to hire the services of the Akatsuki in banishing an evil shapeshifting monster that terrorized their lands.
Deidara chose to interpret 'banishing' as 'exterminating', as did Sasori. If the monster was really as terrifying as the civilians made it sound, then the best course of action would obviously be to kill it. And maybe bring back its head on a pike.
She had to admit, the gory aspect of that image really got the blood thrumming in her veins. When you worked with explosions, gore was a rarity, because people were mostly vaporized.
In the end, it turned out that the shapeshifter was really just a really elaborate genjutsu that Deidara had seen through almost automatically.
A quick, clean mission with no bloodshed involved. There was no need to find the perpetrators. That was not their mission; their mission had been to banish the beast.
But when they were about to leave, the masterminds behind the genjutsu came to them. Likely with a death wish, Deidara thought wryly. Either that or they'd picked a bad time to be robbing the village while their genjutsu rendered the villagers helpless.
"Aren't they Akatsuki?" one shinobi asked the big burly one at the front of the group—the leader.
"Sure don't look like Akatsuki to me, even with the cloaks," said another shinobi.
"A little boy and a woman," the leader scoffed, drawing his sword. "This will be easy."
It was a massacre.
It turned out Sasori didn't take to kindly to being called a little boy. The fact that Deidara, who was almost two decades his junior, had been referred to as a woman, was just rubbing salt into the wound. Of all the days that he chose not to wear Hiruko, it just had to be the day where a peabrain decided to commit suicide by insulting his height.
"Ne, little boy," Deidara had sniped during the battle. "Are you sure you can handle all the blood and gore?"
The kunoichi Sasori was fighting had been promptly reduced to bloody strips of flesh on the ground.
"Touchy," Deidara had commented.
"It's not... over... yet," the leader, now without any legs, croaked before dying.
It was most definitely over.
Or so Sasori thought. One blink and there was a kunai flying straight for his core, courtesy of a half-dead kunoichi. Another blink later and that kunai had been deflected by another.
Deidara was standing to the side, spinning her remaining kunai in one hand.
"I could have handled that," Sasori said pointedly, his ego not exactly ready to handle another beating. The throw had been sloppy and slow; he could have easily come out unharmed without Deidara to swoop in and save the day.
"Men have such fragile egos, un," Deidara snorted. "You could have handled it, yeah, but I could have, too. And I did. So there."
"Brat, you—"
"I'm your partner!" she reminded him fiercely. "And you looked stoned as hell, so I took the initiative and did what I had to. I'm your partner, Danna, I'm supposed to have your back, un."
"... Stoned?" His voice was flat. Then he blinked slowly. "Fine, I'll concede. You have my back. I have yours."
"Good," Deidara said. "Nice to know that we're on the same page for once."
And just because Sasori was feeling particularly irritable today, he added, "Even if your art is shit."
"Hrr, Danna!"
She might have let it slide had she seen the very minuscule smile on his face when he said it. Unfortunately, her back had been turned.
Sasori thought that she looked like a beautiful, vengeful spirit when she was angered. One with a shitty taste in all things artistic.
Deidara sat in silence as Kakuzu sewed her arm on.
Sasori was dead. She wasn't sure how, just that the old bat and the kunoichi with the ridiculously pink hair were the ones who had done it. She hadn't been there to witness his defeat.
Her stomach twisted.
"It's done." Kakuzu's voice broke through her thoughts.
Yes, it was done. And so was she.
"Deidara, this is your new partner, Tobi."
"Waaahh! Deidara-senpai is so pretty!"
Deidara stared in annoyance at the fool with the orange mask. But she couldn't help but wonder, Was this what Danna felt like when we first met?
"Aguamenti!"
Deidara spluttered and sat up, water dripping down her face and hair. "What the hell, un!"
"Ah, nice to see that you're awake."
Deidara's vision was blurry, but it got better when she blinked a few times. She vaguely noted that she had both eyes again. When her vision cleared, there was a boy with lavender hair sitting cross-legged across from her.
"Yo," he said, lifting an arm up in a sloppy salute. "The name's Trunks. And Pansy McPansypants here is Draco Malfoy."
Right. The demons. She remembered.
Draco Malfoy was young with pale blond hair and a sharp chin. From the way his hair stuck out, Deidara inferred that it had once been greased back. A rich boy used to being pampered, no doubt.
"I'm not a pansy!" Malfoy bleated.
Deidara begged to differ.
Trunks was more sturdily built than Malfoy, and he held himself in a way that not many children his age did. And his eyes...
A flicker of suspicion and alarm went through Deidara. This boy was not what he seemed to be.
"I'm the Prince of All Saiyans!" Trunks declared. "And your local dimension hopper and planet destroyer, but, hey, who actually keeps track?"
"Of course you are," Deidara said dryly. "And I'm an Uchiha."
Trunks grinned. "Oh, sister, I have at least five different ways to convince you..."
Malfoy balked.
It took a while for her to really trust Trunks' little ragtag group. Her body was still recovering, as Rei had apparently not fed in a while and could not heal her completely. So she spent a week with them. That week turned into a month. And then it somehow spiralled into two years on the road with them. Akatsuki could go suck a dick as far as she was concerned. No doubt that they all thought she was dead, if Tobi came through.
Most of the time, they traveled by air.
Trunks could fly with the help of what was known as chi, and Rei was able to summon blood wings. Deidara had her clay bird, which she shared with Malfoy, who was civillian in pretty much every way.
During the first year, Malfoy complained. A lot. Trunks knocked him out. A lot. Rei sighed. A lot.
Deidara threw her explosive clay at them. A lot. Mostly at Trunks, because he seemed to be virtually indestructible.
Deidara didn't know much about Rei, just that she was some sort of demon hybrid with a taste for humans. Kind of like Zetsu, only a lot more terrifying when she fed. Her jaw would unhinge and her face would deform until she consumed the human body whole. The upside was that she could heal. She was also Trunks' attendant.
Trunks was apparently a saiyan, some sort of alien from a different dimension (or so he claimed). From all the tricks he could perform, Deidara had a hard time not believing him. He was the real deal, even if he had a ridiculous name derived from underwear.
As for Malfoy, he was utterly human and utterly defenceless without his magic stick. Deidara couldn't even begin to comprehend why Trunks, who obviously called the shots in their ragtag gang, even let him stick around.
Two years passed by impossibly fast, and it was time to part ways after that. Trunks had a kingdom to return to, as did Malfoy and Rei. Malfoy, she had learned, was given to Trunks by his father in exchange for not destroying their planet.
Dads could be such huge dicks.
"Before we go," Trunks said, lifting a finger. "Remember that story I told you about? I planted some dragon balls here for you. Do whatever you want with them." Then he tossed her a necklace. "This will glow and heat up when you're near a dragon ball. Good luck."
Then they were gone.
Those two years felt like a dream.
Dragon balls, Deidara wrote on empty parchment as she sat in her hotel room late at night, a candle burning close in the dark. These are seven orbs, each of them orange with a certain amount of stars in them. Individually, they have no power (though one could injure or kill by launching one at high speeds), but gather all seven of them and a dragon will emerge to grant whatever you wish. Then the dragon balls will turn to stone for one year before they can be collected again.
Her lips twitched in vindictive amusement. Oh, how the Akatsuki would love to get their hands on such powerful artefacts.
She would guard this knowledge to the death. She glanced down at the paper once more before she held it to the candle, watching it burn. She memorized information best when she read it, so she had written down all of her recollections on that piece of parchment.
Deidara passed her hand through her hair—it was midnight black now. Her hairstyle was already a dead giveaway; something had to be changed. With luck, she'd be passed off as an emo teenager. Even if she was a twenty-one year old woman with a penchant for explosives.
When the paper was burnt to a crisp, Deidara blew out the candle, leaving the room in a suppressing darkness.
She encountered her first dragon ball three months later. There was some kind of festival going on at the town she was staying at, and since she was unwinding after an assassination mission, she headed down to where the festivities were taking place.
There was an auction going on at the village square, and when Deidara went over to investigate, the pendant sitting between her breasts began to warm.
One of the items being auctioned was a dragon ball. The auctioneer called it a lucky rock. The audience believed him wholeheartedly.
Idiots.
It took a whole lot of her pay, but she won it in the end. And stole back the money when the auction was over.
Such was the life of a missing-nin.
The second dragon ball was found a year later, between some rocks. It was a lucky find.
"What has my life come to?" Deidara sighed as she leaned against the wooden post, watching her soon-to-be victims exit the party.
Once they were far enough away, she exploded their carriage, immediately killing the occupants. The horse that had been pulling the vehicle whinnied in terror and took off in a random direction.
Stupid animal, she thought scathingly. There was a cliff in that direction, and if the mare didn't stop running, it would probably gallop off the cliff side and fall to its death.
She wouldn't have done anything about it had her pendant not glowed. She eyed the saddlebags for a moment before leaping after it.
Deidara knew that while she could travel at high speeds, she wasn't infallible. That horse might very well outrun her if she got too overconfident.
She flew through the trees, grunting when she landed on the back of the horse and pulled on its reins. It neighed but effectively stopped to try and buck her off.
Deidara hissed in annoyance, yanking at its mane. "Stop that!" Her voice was firm. "Stop, you stupid beast, un!"
Almost as if it was offended, the horse stopped and looked back at her to glare.
"Look, un. I'm just going to take this dragon ball and then you can go back to killing yourself."
Their gazes met.
Then the horse threw her off.
"Fuck, I hate you."
So it surprised absolutely no one when the mare became Deidara's companion.
The Fourth Shinobi War lasted all of two days and, in those long forty-eight hours, everything around Deidara had been flattened.
So she took her horse—Kurotsuki—by the reins and led her over the mountains and far away.
They picked up a dragon ball while they wandered the new land for a year. As she had no access to dyes during that year, Deidara's hair gradually faded from black to blonde again. She was rather relieved, if she had to be honest with herself.
Now if only Kurotsuki would stop chewing on it. Deidara knew that the insufferable mare was too smart to mistake it for hay.
Gods, she hated that horse.
One day, she was going to blow it up and laugh while she did it.
Deidara had not been with a man (or a woman) since she'd left the Akatsuki, and there was this distinctly uncomfortable feeling she got between her legs on her loneliest nights.
These were the times where she was extremely glad that she had two extra mouths on her palms.
Too bad Kurotsuki was a shameless voyuer. Deidara firmly believed that there was nothing more awkward than being peeped on by a horse while you were about to bring yourself to climax.
"Would you stop that!" Deidara hissed, her fingers twitching as she refrained from throwing some of her explosive clay at the mare. "Arrogant horse, un..."
Kurotsuki whinnied tauntingly.
"You're more annoying than Danna."
Kurotsuki looked about as confused as a horse could be.
"Right, I never told you about Danna, did I?" Deidara relaxed slightly, leaning against the tree. Her pants were unbuttoned, but the wind blowing across her belly helped to cool her body. "He was a puppeteer. And an insufferable idiot with no appreciation for true art, un. But he was there when nobody else was. And..." She paused, then scowled. "Now I'm talking to a horse. Wonderful, un."
Huffing, she hugged her knees, sullenly staring into the dark. He was better than Tobi ever was. At least he didn't start a war.
She'd been greatly insulted when she'd found out that Tobi was the reason why she her quest for the dragon balls had been halted. Deidara had protected Tobi, looked after him... despite his childish, naive behavior. And when she'd found out that it was all an act...
Chunks of mountain had rained across the northern lands.
"He's the reason why I'm searching for the dragon balls, un." With that, Deidara walked up the tree, ready to turn in for the night. At the base of the large sycamore, Kurotsuki whinnied solemnly.
A year later, Deidara found her fifth and sixth dragon ball in the same place, coincidentally. By intercepting a group of shinobi carrying valuable items, that is.
Earlier that week, Deidara had gotten a mission from a high paying client asking her disrupt a mission being carried out by Konoha shinobi.
"Deidara no Iwa!" one of them exclaimed.
"There is no Iwa, un," Deidara corrected, smirking.
Soon, they were but bloody chunks on the grass. The poor saps hadn't even been chuunin level. Konoha was being stretched if this was the sort of ninja they sent to protect such valuable items.
She pried open the crate they'd been carrying, eyes widening at the sight of the dragon balls, among other things. Deidara looked down at her pendant. With the rush of battle, she hadn't even realised that it'd been burning intensely. It almost seared her skin through her clothes.
Her journey was nearly over.
Deidara exhaled, relieved. Perhaps Kurotsuki would annoy Sasori more than her when he finally came back.
How many years has it been, anyway? she asked herself, doing the math in her head. Five. It's been five years since I last saw him. I wonder if he'll still recognise me?
There was a neigh and the clip-clop of hooves as Kurotsuki galloped toward her, sending a cloud of dust her way as the mare came to a halt. The dust irritated her eyes and made her cough, and Deidara sent a glare toward the animal, her glare intensifying when Kurotsuki's mouth got too close to her hair. Then horse began to chew on her ponytail.
"Yeah, I can't wait until Sasori meets you. Then you can bother him. Or he'll skin you. Either way, it works out for me, un."
Deidara had been wrong. Kurotsuki never got to meet Sasori, because she died from a lung infection two years later, and the seventh dragon ball was still lost to her.
Deidara was alone again.
She wept bitterly before wiping her tears away with the sleeves of her white cloak. Stupid horse. How dare you make me feel like this. I'm glad you're dead. You've always been nothing but a nuisance. Just like Tobi, un. He was more tolerable than you, actually.
Even so, there was still a horse-sized hole in her heart.
It'd been a few months since Kurotsuki died, and winter had descended upon the Land of Fire.
Deidara sat in a moderately busy tea shop, enjoying the warmth as she studied the map laid out in front of her. There was a teapot sitting on the corner of the map, holding it down so that it didn't much fly off every time someone opened the door, allowing the winter wind to blow in.
There were many questions she had that couldn't be ignored, but could only be answered when she summoned the Eternal Dragon. Such as if she could bring two beings back to life with one wish. If so, she'd have Kurotsuki brought back as well.
Eternal Dragon, huh? she mused. Sasori would have loved the sound of that. He might have even tried to capture it and turn it into a puppet, just so he could have a creation to bare the namesake. It was funny how she was relying on something that was eternal to breathe meaning into her life again.
Explosions were fun, but they were even more fun when you could share it with someone. Even when that someone thought they were the shittiest thing to be invented since the toilet.
Working with Sasori had brought her a pleasure and satisfaction that had left her heart gaping with a very large hole when it had been torn away. The same thing had happened with Tobi, though that hole had healed a very long time ago. No masked men invaded her dreams, only a red-haired puppet.
"Would you like a refill?" The waitress approached her.
"No thanks, un." Deidara paused. "... Maybe just one more."
She was drinking her third cup of tea from the new pot when a woman with pink hair entered the establishment, looking like she'd gone a whole week without sleep. Deidara raised an eyebrow at her haggard appearance. This woman looked even younger than her!
And the pink hair—
Deidara nearly jolted when it clicked. This was the bitch that killed Sasori.
Deidara's hand tightened around her cup when the kunoichi seated herself at the table right beside her's.
Haruno Sakura. S-ranked Konoha-nin according to the bingo books. Tsunade of the Sannin's apprentice.
Then their gazes met, and recognition passed in Sakura's eyes.
"Deidara."
"Haruno."
"I didn't realize that you were still alive," Sakura said cautiously. "Sasuke—"
"Damn, that kid is still alive? He's like a cockroach, un. Hard to kill." She vaguely remembered calling something else a cockroach, too. Although, in hindsight, Hiruko had been a much nicer cockroach in Deidara's opinion.
Sakura bristled at Deidara's insult, but sighed raggedly. "Yes, he is. I know from experience."
Deidara's blue eyes lit up in curiosity. "Any connection to why you look so worn, Haruno?"
"I don't have anything to tell to an S-rank criminal."
"You've told me plenty already, un. Why stop now?"
Sakura stared at her. Then she got up and walked away, shoulders tensed. Deidara was glad. If she hadn't walked away, Deidara just might have killed her. Absently, she connected the dots between Sakura's appearance and the outbreak of a virus in the area she was staying in. She must have been sent here to stop the sickness. No wonder Sakura's tongue had slipped—Deidara doubted that she had had any nights of sleep since she arrived.
Yeah, well, Deidara thought, if a little irritably, She's not the only tired one around these parts.
All she needed was one more dragon ball.
Deidara peered down at her map, which showed her all the places that she had covered.
So why was it so damn hard, and why was she so damn tired?
Curtly, she folded up her map and left a tip on the table, nearly spilling tea as she jostled her way out of her seat.
No more wasting time. Sasori was waiting for her.
Was it coincidence, or did fate just like to screw around with her?
"You again?" Sakura cried when Deidara showed up at her temporary lodgings. "What do you want?"
"You brushed past me at the market," Deidara began, getting straight to the point. "I didn't notice it back at the tea shop because I was sitting close to the fire, but..." She pulled her pendant out of the space between her shirt and her jacket. "You have something I'm looking for, Haruno, and I'm not leaving without it."
Sakura pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the pendant's design. "I think I know what you're talking about."
"Then give it here, un."
"Not until I know what you're planning on doing with it! This isn't some take-over-the-world device, is it?"
"For fuck's sake!" Deidara snapped, snarling. "It's not! And what I need it for is none of your business. Now hand. It. Over."
Sakura lifted her chin defiantly. "No."
So Deidara punched her in the face.
Humiliating, Deidara silently thought as she set her nose with a hiss. The fucking pink-haired bitch had broken it and it had fucking hurt. And now she was turning into Hidan. Wonderful.
Despite herself, Deidara had left Sakura unconscious in her lodgings (which was quite literally a cabin). Sakura wasn't a priority—Sasori was. And since she had ended his life, the decision to let her keep living or not belonged to Sasori.
Her knuckles were white from how hard she was holding the final dragon ball—the four star ball—as well as how cold it was outside. The rest of the dragon balls and her belongings were sealed in a storage scroll.
She'd waited eight years for this. She refused to wait any longer.
Deidara trudged through the snow slower than she would have liked. Then, in a secluded area, she removed the rest of the dragon balls from their safekeeping. The orange orbs fell onto the snow with nary a sound, and Deidara arranged them in a hasty circle.
It was time.
Eight long years and it all came down to this.
"Rise, Eternal Dragon, and hear the wish of your summoner!"
In the snow, the balls began to pulse, glowing a brighter orange than ever. With the wariness that came from being an explosions specialist, Deidara took a step back, her gaze sharp.
The sky began to darken.
"Choji, look!" Ino pointed up at the sky, her brows furrowed as dark clouds began to form.
"A storm?" Shikamaru muttered as Choji and Ino observed the clouds with horrified awe. "No way... it has to be some kind of jutsu."
In the Aburame compound, the hive began to buzz restlessly. The Aburames stared up at the sky, suspicious.
Deidara cried out in shock and backflipped further away as a green lightning bolt emerged from the balls with a loud thunder. The lightning continued to crackle and hiss. Then it disappeared, and the balls began to pulse yellow, the pulses becoming increasingly intense until an ambiguous shape started to form, reaching up high into the air.
Deidara crossed her arms in front of her face, the long white sleeves of her cloak flapping in the wind the summoning had conjured.
Then the dragon appeared. Deidara, who had closed her eyes, slowly opened them, her pale blue orbs widening as she took in the dragon for the first time.
This thing could flatten the entire village from the sheer size alone, she thought numbly. So this is the Eternal Dragon...
"I am the Eternal Dragon, Shenlong," the dragon boomed, its voice echoing in Deidara's head. "Speak your wish, and I shall grant it."
Deidara clenched her fists in determination. "Eternal Dragon!" she shouted, tilting her head skyward. "I wish for the one known as Sasori to be brought back to life, and the horse Kurotsuki to live again, as well!"
Her heart was pounding in her chest as she spoke her wish. Eight years of running around, surviving, and being pestered by an arrogant horse and it all came down to this one moment.
"I cannot grant that wish."
Deidara's heart dropped to her stomach. "What?" she said hoarsely. "And why the hell not, un?!" Forget respect, this dragon was going to pay for scamming away eight years of her life.
"The one you call Sasori has no body for his soul to return to. If I were to grant your wish, he would be but an aimless, wandering soul. I cannot allow that to happen, as it would upset the balance of the world."
Deidara was still thinking of what to say next when the dragon continued, "However, if the one known as Kurotsuki is removed from the confines of the wish, it will be within my power to provide Sasori a new body as well as return his soul."
"I... Yes!" Her breathing quickened. "That will do, dragon, un! Create for Sasori a new body, and return his soul to it!"
"Very well." The dragon's ruby red eyes glowed momentarily. "Your wish has been granted. Fare you well."
The world around her slowed as Sasori materialized in front of the dragon, Akatsuki cloak billowing around his form, eyes closed. He looked mostly the same, but Deidara could have sworn he was taller, if only a little. The puppet he had been occupying must not have had the same height measurements as his organic body.
Sasori's eyes snapped open. They were the same shade of brown as the puppet's, but there was warmth to them. Or, as teenage-Deidara would have put it, not so stoned.
But the woman standing before him was no longer nineteen. She'd filled out a little more in certain places and her face was more narrow, having lost the remnants of the baby fat that came with youth. Sasori blinked. How long has it been?
The dragon balls rose into the air and Deidara's gaze snapped upward, Sasori's brown eyes following. Then, with flourish, each ball flew to seven different ends of the world, never to be seen again.
For Deidara, years of work had simply vanished, but the result was standing right in front of her. Slowly, uncertainly, she took a step toward him. Then another. And another, until she was standing nose to nose with him. The extra height on his natural body meant that they were now the same height.
"Hey, Danna," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I sacrificed eight years and a horse for you, un. You'd better be damn grateful, or—" She shuddered as she suppressed a sob that threatened to escape from her throat. "I think I might blow you up. And then waste another eight years bringing you back again. Maybe I'll get another horse on the way."
"Eight years?" Sasori's voice was music to her ears. Then it grew flat. "Why would do that? Waste eight years of your life for me? Deidara, you fool."
She let out a harsh laugh, lifting the long sleeve of her cloak to her face. Probably to wipe some stray tears away. She hated to cry, especially in front of others. "Eight years and I'm still a fool to you?! The feeling's mutual, yeah, especially with your terrible interpretation of art."
"That's all art really is, though, isn't it? An interpretation." He lifted his arms and wrapped them around her lithe body. Warm. She was so warm. When was the last time he had felt such a thing? This was truly amazing.
Deidara sniffed as she hugged him back. "I never thought the day that I'd hear you say that would come, un. What happened to eternity? Does that mean you finally agree? That ephemeral art is the superior one, un?"
"Of course not."
She snorted at that, the sound wet.
Sasori lifted one arm and whacked her gently on the head. "Eternity and ephemerality are one and the same. There are fleeting moments which can last for an eternity."
"Is this one of them, Danna?"
"Yes," he replied honestly. "It is. Thank you, Deidara."
"What for, un?"
Sasori smiled. "Many things. But mostly loving me enough to waste away for eight years of your life and a horse."
"Who says I love you, Danna? I think you're getting overconfident now that you're alive again, un."
He pulled back from her, unimpressed. Really, Deidara?
"Oh, fine," Deidara groused. "Eight years is a pretty long time, I concede, un. Might as well love you, too." She paused. "Also, you missed a war."
"What," he deadpanned.
"Yeah, un! I have so much to tell you..."
Side by side, the two walked through the snow and back to the village, Sasori listening with infinite patience to Deidara's tales. She told him of the dimensional travelers, of Prince Trunks, Rei the butler, and the bratty but loosely enslaved Draco Malfoy. How Rei was a more demonic Zetsu in disguise, and that while Trunks looked like a child, he was actually over two hundred years old and counting. Kurotsuki came next. From the way she made it sound, the horse sounded like a complete pain in the ass, and Sasori would have probably ended up skinning it alive had the mare made it this far.
Sasori snorted when Deidara told him of how Kurotsuki had bucked her off during the first few days of their partnership. He made a scathing remark when he found out what Tobi had orchestrated. His face showed nothing but awe and interest when she gave him her account of the dragon's appearance.
But most of all, he laughed when Deidara recalled to him how she had punched the pink-haired kunoichi in the face.
Deidara stared at him as he chortled.
"Danna... I didn't know you could laugh, un."
He flicked her nose. "Don't be stupid. Everyone laughs."
"Not you."
"Yes, well..." Sasori paused. "You can thank the kunoichi with the ridiculous hair for that."
"Eh?!" Deidara was outraged. "Danna, are you okay up there? She killed you."
He shrugged. "If she hadn't, somebody else would have."
Deidara shot him a sideways glance. "Danna... you're crazy."
"So are you," Sasori retorted. "Wasting eight years of your life for mine. Idiot brat."
"Hey, you could be a little more grateful, un!" Deidara jabbed a thumb at her chest. "Why don't you kiss me or something? Instead of insulting my intelligence, un."
Sasori raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you want?"
"I... Yeah, I mean, why not?" She looked away, slightly embarrassed. Deidara nearly shouted when Sasori pulled her in toward him, their noses touching.
"Is this better?" he asked, expression unchanging. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"I—"
"We should adopt a horse."
"WHAT?!"
A kiss silenced her.
Kurotsuki nickered as he stood for the first time, his legs wobbling beneath his body. His mother, Kurokuri, whinnied joyfully as her son began to try his best to gallop, ignoring the protests of the horse-doctor that had come over to oversee his birth. Kurotsuki sniffed at the orange flowers in the field, sneezing when he inhaled too much pollen. Beside the horse-doctor, Sasori shook his head in exasperation.
There was a little house not too far away from the field. Out on the veranda, a woman sat on a porch swing, a hot cup of tea in her hands. Deidara sighed in bliss as she indulged in the hot drink, watching her husband and the horse-doctor try to wrangle Kurotsuki junior.
The horse-doctor shrieked in alarm when Sasori used his chakra threads to reel the little foal back to him. Deidara chuckled, lifting the cup to her mouth again. The horse-doctor began to shout something at the red-haired man, but it was clear that Sasori couldn't care less about what the bespectacled man was expounding.
"I'll get your wife!" the horse-doctor threatened, but Sasori remained unimpressed.
"Go ahead. She'll only ever take my side."
The horse-doctor spluttered. "I-I—"
Sasori shook his head. "You should know better than to bring a pregnant woman into such matters. For a doctor, your bedside manner is abhorrent."
"I'm not a real doctor—"
"Ah, off you go then."
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!"
Deidara laughed out loud as Sasori grabbed the horse-doctor with his chakra threads and very politely escorted him out of the field, slamming the gate behind him. The horse-doctor groused before stomping away from the property, heading back to his clinic in town, which was just a ten minute walk down the road away.
"That's the third one this month, Danna," Deidara commented as she walked out to the field to join her husband, the orange flowers tickling her ankles. She hadn't started showing yet, though the bump would appear soon enough. She smirked. "Though I'm surprised he lasted this long, un."
"You're not the only one," Sasori answered dryly. "I think I might be getting soft. The consequences of peacetime."
Kurotsuki nickered again, and Deidara ran a palm over the foal's head, careful not to lick the little animal.
"It's not that bad," she said. "It could be worse, un." Deidara took him by the hand and led him back to the house. "We're going to need another horse-doctor."
"I'm aware. But I'm not in the mood for dealing with more insufferable idiots who think they know best because of a framed paper on their wall." Sasori had read enough about horses to rival the knowledge of equine veterinarians. But theory was one thing, and practice was another, hence why they had hired horse-doctors for birthing affairs. But now that it meant putting up with morons, Sasori would gladly oversee the next horse birth by himself.
"Trust me, I'm not in the mood for that shit either, un." She gave him a smile. "By the way, what's for dinner?"
"Cooking lessons," Sasori retorted as they reached the porch.
"Don't be ridiculous, un," Deidara said flippantly. "I want the house to be still standing at the end of the night."
Sasori said something about tossing explosive clay in the wok in reply, and Deidara laughed, closing the door behind them.
In the fields, Kurotsuki whinnied, tossing his mane as he returned to his mother.
A/N: In my defence, they were going to adopt kangaroos before I decided on horses. Kangaroos. I've also never watched or read Naruto, so please cut me a little slack for butchering characters. There was just such a severe lack of fem!Deidara (like, holy, the lack is CRIMINAL) that I had to contribute.
Also, I changed the timeline a little bit. Like when the Fourth Shinobi War takes place. Because I'm not too sure about timeline of events, kek. Everything else should be the same, though.