A character study for Deidara featuring several aspects of being an Akatsuki he has to deal with. Though his past will be hinted at frequently there will never be anything concrete. I'm trying to focus on developing his character through the "present" each chapter is set in so while I have given him a past, it's very integrated with the fic's time setting. Each chapter will be their own standing oneshot and will be chronological.
Summary: Besides blowing things up, Deidara has an unusual habit, one that the others look down at him for, and he's been doing it for five years.
EDIT/I haven't edited anything of this fic. It's a very old work and doesn't accurately show my current writing style. However, I was quite fond of it once. For nostalgia's sake, then.
She has no grave, much less a tombstone to call her own. Yet, Iwagakure takes an almost masochistic pleasure in providing proof that a person did exist and, look, see that garish gravemarker? Yeah, here lies another rich, worthless civilian whose corpse wasn't even worth destroying for its weak body had no secrets to tell.
All Iwa-nin got was a stupid memorial, un, supposedly there to commemorate those oh-so brave shinobi who'd thrown their lives away for the sake of a village that just didn't care. It's nice to know that things rarely change here in the face of my rather hectic missing-nin life. Things like these old geezers' graves, and even the aforementioned memorial above, are forever eternal pieces of another hidden village left to rot, un.
Good. That only made it a number one candidate in my book to blow it up. Congratulations, Mosuke Hatori, you and your very dead friends are eligible to be part of one of many explosive moments in time that I call my 'art,' un—be proud. If only to be of some worth to Iwa, of course. I'll be sure to remember to incorporate that into my welcome party.
But that's not why I'm here. For now. Unfortunate, un. But I'll be back!
Satisfied with my parting vow, I continue on, not even sparing another glance at the cemetery I'd forever banished to the back depths of my mind. Until I had to leave my lovely old village again, un. Until then, Mosuke-saamaaa…!
I had all the time in the world. After today I was never coming back, un. Don't be stupid! It has nothing to do with Iwa Anbu trying to keep me away! Although they have tried. Really hard, un. Not that that's stopped me; I could come and go whenever I pleased!
But that's just the thing. I don't come back, every year, for my own pleasure. And definitely not 'whenever I pleased,' either. Everybody's got their own quirks and habits. And surely everyone had an annual ritual to complete, un! Mine's just a bit…unique compared to the others.
Others, being the Akatsuki members, un. Most of them don't understand why I do this every year. And I do mean every year. Sometimes even twice! But that was only the one time because the second visit to Iwa simply acted as a reminder to everyone in this hellhole that just because I always dropped in during the fall didn't mean I couldn't come any other time.
That unexpected appearance of mine during the wintertime celebrations? Yeah. It was their own damn fault—they brought it onto themselves. Honestly, they should be glad that I only come during autumn and not randomly throughout the year, un. Stupid Iwa-nins, don't you know that if you only had to expect me during the fall you wouldn't have to be on guard throughout the entire year, twenty-four-seven? I'd thought it would've been an obvious signal to Iwagakure—'Deidara always comes during the fall, so keep the village defenses up then, un!'
Did they really wanted my predictability to change? Did they really wanted me to become unpredictable? Damn, I knew my old village wasn't too bright, but they should've just taken my damn predictability as a godsend! Not that I believe in that crazy Jashin-kun or anything, but…what was that western phrase…'Don't look a gift horse in its mouth'…? Yeah! That's why they should never try to bar me from coming during autumn. Otherwise I'd get mad and things go…boom, un!
Bet it grates their nerves. They always know I come around this time, but they can never catch me. No way, un! I'm too awesome to be captured when I come willingly to Iwagakure. Like hell I'd be caught then!
But only a stupid Akatsuki would take all the time in the world in the village they betrayed. And I am no stupid Akatsuki, un. I'm not Tobi.Sure, I do have all this time to blow stuff up, especially since Sasori-danna allows it, but I'm not stupid, nor do I want to, un. I came here for only one thing, and it sure as hell wasn't to go around exploding people up. Yet.
As much fun as that sounds, I can't. Maybe later…? I think Iwa needs another lesson that no one can keep this missing-nin away! Slipping past the Anbu border guards was a bitch, after all. No petty chunnin-ranked border guarding this month, un! Not when it was so close to being my expected arrival date. Heh, I'm flattered.
Shame Iwa's so stupid, though. They should expect that I could come a bit earlier than my usual autumn date! Instead, they focus more defensive plans aimed towards late autumn and early winter. Un…do they really think I'd be interested in their little festivals anymore? It was just that one time! Then again, these days, Iwa's festivals deserved to be bombed.
But maybe I'm being biased. Festivals generally are a bang…just like my art! Just dumber. And duller. And…well, boring…er. Yes. Not that my birds are boring! I could take on those stupid puppeteers any day. Aaaand, not only that, but I could start a war, un! Between Suna and Iwa, I can start a war easy.
In my experience, or at least…according to Sasori-danna, Suna could care less about their alliance with Iwa. Their very shaky alliance, un. But target their puppeteers and you get very unhappy desert goers, un. They really like their puppeteers, even the civilian ones…Suna's a little funny that way.
You know what? I should visit again! That's right, twice this year! Just one last time, even if I swore this would be my last visit…Only, maybe I should come during the winter. Again. That should throw them off, un! Because there was just no way stupid puppeteers should come brighten up Iwa's day. They didn't deserve it. Any of it.
Would Sasori-danna be angry if I killed them, I wonder? But I know the answer immediately—of course he wouldn't. Why would Sasori-danna be angry with me, un? He's way better a shinobi and at puppet playing. Hell, even Sasori-danna's sad, misguided views on art are better than those other sad excuses of art those theater troupes carry around. Plus, no self-respecting puppeteers would dance around and make fools of themselves for the sake of Iwagakure. Especially if its to strengthen some stupid friendly ties that aren't actually that friendly, come to think about it.
Starting a war is sounding very appealing right now, un.
Somehow cheered at that thought, I felt like picking up my pace, and I did. It wasn't long until I finally reached my destination, and I felt even more cheered by the sight that greeted me.
Or, more correctly, what didn't greet me.
I was in the infamous Sector-C of Iwagakure, which was completely decimated when I ditched the village, and never fully recovered, un. Where once proud buildings of stone stood now was home to the slums of the village, the bane of its economy, the black mark in an otherwise successful village. The slums. Wonderful, wonderful slums of a failing village.
And I was the one to reduce this flourishing district into nothing more than straggling rubble. I feel so proud, un, that my art rendered the area completely worthless. Not even Sasori-danna's art can do what I did to Iwa.
Not even him.
He once claimed subtly was completely lost on me and that my stealth was on par with a Konoha genin on crack. He doesn't like going on missions with me, see.
Before being recruited and dragged to Headquarters by Itachi some years ago, I'd one more request before I was forced into dreadful purple nail polish and spats; I wanted to return briefly back home. That was when I made crazy ass plans to make a very cool missing-nin exist.
Akatsuki, of course, didn't believe for a moment that my request wasn't seeped in ulterior motives. And they were right…just not in the way they thought. Honestly, at that point, how could I make a run for it when I knew full well Akatsuki wasn't going to let me go after approaching me, un? And then after I was forced to explain why I wanted to return, they all stared at me as if I was…Tobi! Not like that dummy can understand art…none of them really understood why I'd want to go back—even if it's for 'revenge' or something stupid like that, un.
Which, I admit, kinda had something to do with my crazy ass, very cool missing-nin plans…
But was it really so much to ask if I could blow up a sector of Iwagakure before I leave with them to be inducted into their little organization? Apparently so.
What I think they thought what I was trying to do to was to 'escape' from them, via explosives. Hmph. And I'd heard Akatsuki was supposed to be smart, un. I wasn't going to ward them off with explosives! Especially not if I just told them so.
It was a waste of clay, anyway.
In any case, imagine my recruiters' surprise when I did carry out my promise and blew up a third of Iwagakure. But they shouldn't have! I would've done it again if stupid Itachi hadn't dragged me off. It was fun. Great fun. Remember Sector-C? It was my last 'fuck you' to those prissy higher ups that never appreciated me when I was a shinobi under their thumbs or when I was a mercenary for hire outside village walls. Outside, mind you, meaning: Look, but don't touch? They never did get it, but that wasn't why I made the place go kaboom. Truth be told, I had a feeling that was my last chance to show off that rebellious streak to Iwa before I'd be forgotten as that crazy genin kid who liked to make things blow up.
I was to become Akatsuki, after all. It was their own damn fault they demoted me for something completely out of my control. In Iwa's history books, I was listed as a genin when I really made chunnin months before I…un. Well, whatever. At the very least I was their most memorablegenin, a status which I didn't want at all.
Why would I want some stupid Iwa based status? I wanted everyone to forget Deidara of Iwa because Deidara of Iwa was dead! But Deidara ofAkatsuki wasn't. Nope! He was just born. And I wanted everyone to know it.
Deidara of Akatsuki was the one to become a powerful shinobi. Deidara of Akatsuki was the one who snubbed and turned his back on Iwa, un, and not the other way around. Deidara of Akatsuki was a strong, S-Class Missing-nin, explosive expert, and lover of art, who doesn't take that Iwa shit. Deidara of Iwa was nothing more than a sniveling weakling who couldn't even handle the government's twisted machinations and broke down and criedwhen he was demoted.
Not for being stripped of his rank, not for being stripped of his power, un, but for realizing the symbolism behind that act. The fact that the government itself was trying to keep the whole ordeal hush hush and sweep the whole matter under the rug as if I were…as if I weren't a proud chunnin of Iwagakure!
No! Not me…not me. I'm not him anymore. He's dead. He's finished. I am Akatsuki now!
And just like that, my previous good mood smashed into Sasori-victim-bits.
This was why I kept resolving to stop coming every year. But I just kept coming and coming.I should have no ties with this place—I destroyed them long ago! When members were inducted they were supposed to break all ties with their village, but I just kept coming back for more!
I must be a masochist, un. That's the only explanation. Why else can't I get rid of this guilt?
I try, I really do try, every year to resolve past…issues. With Iwa. With her. But mostly with Iwa. How many bombs do I have to set off, how many more lives do I have to keep coming back to claim, if my stupid past won't stay that way—in the past? I passed it off for closure the first time I came back as Deidara of Akatsuki. So why do I keep coming back—why, un?
The others in…Akatsuki. They were confused about that, too, when I found myself coming back year after year. And I didn't even know why. I still don't know why, un.
No, that's a lie; I know why now. Hell, Sasori-danna knows why, too. Once, when he was really frustrated with me, more so than usual anyway, he demanded to know why I kept 'wallowing in my eternal denial' and why I wouldn't come to terms with my 'everlasting guilt.' It sickened him, he said, to know that I reeked of hypocrisy like this, to go against my very own beliefs and values that I advocated so strongly. I could barely hold up my end of our familiar art debates for weeks after that.
Actually, I could barely look at him for weeks after that, un.
When I started moping around Headquarters, feeling exhaustingly anemic, Sasori-danna confronted me and smacked me around a bit. To his surprise, even that couldn't get a rise out of me. I remember Akatsuki was unusually explosion-free during that Dark Time. In my impromptu depression I'd even missed my annual date with the Iwa locals. For some reason that made me feel even shittier. Somehow. At one point, even Kisame couldn't take my gloominess in good humor anymore and bluntly told me that even Tobi was being affected by my monthlies and go lay a local pretty boy thing.
I'm not a girl, damn it!
Sasori-danna finally couldn't ignore my listlessness any longer and dragged us off to Earth Country. An actual fricking mission, specially approved by Sir Leader, who'd told me to snap out of it and get a hold on myself. Only then may I return. After whatever petty issue of mine had been resolved enough, of course, so that my fighting wasn't being affected, and, damn it, Deidara, the fucking silence around here is becoming fucking uneasy and hurry and blow something up and make us all happy.
Sir Leader had found my explosions lacking while I was in my depressive funk. Well, sorry very much, un, Sir Leader sir, but what kind of S-Class organization's leader sends one of his missing-nins to his village of origin in a much unnecessarily stupid mission? Never mind the fact that I willingly went to Iwa every year anyways.
The kind that cares, he answered shortly.
Well, damn. That's missing-nin therapy for you, un. And he's still smug about being right. That a little explosions here and there to vent in my old village would do loads for lowering my stress level.
Sir Leader knows best, I guess. Than again, it's also a matter of convenience—I get restless a lot at all times of the day, and Iwais right there, so…
But Sasori-danna's the only one who really cares. He's awesome like that, un. Ever since then he's come with me to Earth Country, despite however long I take in preparing my annual 'Welcome Home, Deidara' party. Though, he doesn't come along solely for my comfort. What he really comes along for is to get his supply of special metals and minerals only found in Earth Country, and the occasional wood.
He thinks of my yearly antics in my home village as stupid, but unfortunately necessary. Remember, I'm restless, yeah? Well, in return, I'd cheerily point out the best spots to hit for his puppet materials, if only to piss off the local daimyo. I had been Iwa's explosive specialist, after all. And I had searched out the best spots in the country to gather my art supplies during my brief time as a mercenary, too.
Danna would always sneer at my friendly suggestions, when he knew full well I knew the terrain a hell lot better than him. Whenever we'd meet at our rendezvous point after our respective excursions, though, he'd sometimes even give me reluctant praise. He cherishes his puppets too much to not thank me…I think.
Most of the time, he doesn't even say anything, but the telltale sign of bulging scrolls stuffed in a sack tells me he'd been busy pillaging, and he was very much a happy-nin. That was enough for me, un.
As we developed a familiar routine around our Earth Country visits, Sasori-danna's way of expressing future gratitude, once he'd become quite familiar with just how great Earth resources really were combined with his puppetry, was to allow me longer lengths of time to remain in Iwagakure. As if I was a dog…or, or a child. Yeah, something like that, but I don't mind so much. Sasori-danna considered my continued trips to Iwa a very stupid thing, an essential no-man's land for me in particular, but he accepts it. He even understands it!
That didn't mean he never again brought up my masochistic guilt-complex. In fact, he brings up the topic way too frequently for my tastes. But his slow-in-coming looks of worried annoyance I know he'd shoot at me whenever he thought I wasn't looking as he'd shuffle away in Hiruko more than made up for it.
Because he knew, for all his outward irritation, that I went through self-imposed hell as I leapt over Iwa walls, even if my one masochistic habit seemed highly unnecessary, and highly troublesome, to everyone else. But he supports me in this. He doesn't berate me for being stupid—not on this issue. Mostly when it comes to my lack of self-preservation instincts, un, but not for my actual decision to continue this yearly habit of mine.
Heunderstandsme. And that is why Sasori no Danna has my eternal respect. Respect's an art, too, yeah? Even if I abhor eternity, I wouldn't give up this…thing we have between us that makes us seamless partners and, hell, even friends. I wouldn't give this up, even for that brief moment in time when the skies rip apart in explosions of red and orange, the thing I truly believe is art. But strangely enough…for Sasori-danna, it's worth it. It's worth it if this friendship lasts forever, damn it. And I really, really want it to.
So what if I'm a masochistic S-Class missing-nin with his priorities all mixed up, un.
So what if I can't completely sever ties with the village I scorn.
So what if there have only been two people in my entire miserable life that truly understood me, and one of them is beside me while the other one's dead.
So what if I ignore Sir Leader's old disapproval for continuing my trips to Iwa after that stupid mission he'd assigned, and the rest of the Akatsuki ignorantly thinks I'm indulging in petty continual revenge against Iwa by coming back year after year. So what?
I'm Deidara of Akatsuki, un! A damn good shinobi, but a terrible missing-nin. After all, according to that godawful status quo, a missing-nin shouldn't be doing what I've been doing for years now! Well, fuck that! Screw it, un! I'm my own person, and I've always been my own person. I'm not another nameless soldier a village can throw away on whim, and I sure as hell aren't the weakling I was when I left Iwagakure.
An individual. If only shinobi could be acknowledged as individuals…we can't be emotionless tools, un. Iwa was asking for the impossible! We can't be good little soldiers that march off to certain death—sacrifice—when we've given our all to villages that don't give a damn!
They scorned my family for our hands.
They scorned me for my destructive habits.
They scorned me for my individuality.
They didn't understand my art, they didn't understand me, and after all that they expected me to follow along with their manipulations like a loyal shinobi should? I am not a mindless pawn! I just didn't have the guts to acknowledge until it became nearly too late. I was extremely nationalistic once, too, un. But they tried to oppress me, and when they failed to mold me into the same caste as my fellow shinobi, they had the audacity to condemn my beliefs, my originality, my art, un!
I am an unorthodox shinobi. I make bombs on the spot. I fly when I travel. I am not ashamed of my freakish, disgusting hands. I am Deidara,and when I dared to realize this and dared to dream, they had the nerve to try to break me, to keep me silent.
Art is a bang, un. And on the day I left Iwagakure to become Deidara of Akatsuki, I showed all of them just that. I showed every fucking shinobi in that village that I was free—I smiled, I laughed…especially when I blew all those men, women and children up! I was no longer afraid because Iwa no longer had any hold on me, and though I was forced to shed my mercenary status for something even greater than I could have imagined at the time, even if I was forced into the job that I was slow to love, Iwagakure was dead to me.
That's right. I'm not Deidara of Iwa. He's dead. And no matter how many times I come to this cursed village, I can never become him again. Neither do I want to. Iwa has no hold on me, no power, no leash…
When I sneak into the village, I am an Akatsuki. I do not think of myself as an Iwa-nin—I am simply Deidara. An individual working with other individuals for a greater cause; a distant goal, yeah, but far greater than anything a mere village could wrangle up. I'm not hindered by the morals, rules, and regulations of a hidden village, nor am I condemned for my art. My values are my own as surely as I must wear this hideous shade of purple on my nails.
I am Akatsuki. And Deidara of Iwa is dead here.
And when Iwagakure prepares for my yearly autumn arrival in the only way they know how, it is with triumph that I best them all. That rush of satisfaction, as I leave volatile parting gifts, is all so that I can taste a sliver of that freedom I felt when I blew a third of Iwa up. No Anbu can stop me, the government is helpless against me, and Rokudaime Tsuchikage sure as hell isn't getting rid of me anytime soon.
And though my legendary status in Iwagakure is as sweet as exploding newly developed clay, it was the smallest and silliest of culture shocks that gave me the most pleasure thus far, oddly enough. But Sasori-danna thinks my strangeness quaint, so I don't think too much of it.
All foreigners who plan to stay for a long time are warned of this as they're integrated into Iwa society. Tourists learn of this, only to laugh it off as superstition. Adults uneasily acknowledge this, but tend to ignore it. And the shinobi are terrified of this because they most assuredly know it to be true.
But it is the children, un, that gives me the most pleasure, since they're the only ones to actually say this aloud. They're the only ones with the guts, un, which is why civilian, genin, or otherwise, they're the most amusing. I love children…the only naïve things left of this world…
Don't piss Deidara off or he'll blow you up.
It's official. It's practically set in stone. No pun intended, too.
I am Iwa no Bakemono.
The Monster of Iwa.
I've accomplished what I set out to do by working with Akatsuki. The one thing I wanted more than anything else from my old village, the thing I would only accept from them now, something I've been working my ass off for ever since I'd left those bastards.
The acknowledgment that I was no longer one of them. The knowledge that Deidara of Iwa didn't exist at all anymore. The infamy I'd gained under the Akatsuki name. The identity I'd carved out myself, not as a stupid shinobi who'd blindly given his village his all, but as an individual being that is alive and passionately so, emotions and all. Consequently, birds are to be feared in Iwa.
I'm not a soldier, heartlessly sacrificed for the sake of a village. Not even a true shinobi, which was simply impossible as humans aren't meantto be forced into that image. But a person. A goddamn human being. With dreams and fears like any other civilian. Not a tool because tools are cast away the moment they turn useless. And I am not useless. I'm not useless.
I know I'm being used. I know my worth as a shinobi is weighed by my skills. I know that Sir Leader doesn't give two shits who I am as long as his subordinate, Deidara, fights for him. I know all this. I'm not stupid, and I know my ideas are an idealist's dream.
But I also know that it was virtually impossible to be like this within the confines of a hidden village, to feel what I feel everyday as an Akatsuki. And if betraying my comrades and living a life where everyone's nearly your enemy and thinks you're scum, I don't care! Better to die knowing that your life served a purpose, that it wasn't worthless, that it accounted for nothing in the eyes of a village who truly, in every sense of the word, used you.
If I manage to live long enough to see the fulfillment of Akatsuki's dream, at least I can say that my life left a mark on the world. That my life counted for something, and that my accomplishments attributed to something tangible than some fucked up shinobi philosophy where you serve your village and nothing else, where your only reward is to just die.
Good little shinobi train to protect their village, their Kage. Loyalty is ingrained in them from the moment they're drafted to die. After serving the village, what then, un? What would've happened to me if I hadn't escaped from Iwa then? What would've happened if Akatsuki hadn't seem my budding worth? I'd been trapped, like…like some shinobi rat.
There is no God out there, like the Jashin-kun Hidan so passionately believes in, no higher being to grant you wishes. You have a transient life, and the moment you pick up that kunai in arms for your village you're dead. You mean nothing for the village because you then become nothing more than a number. 'Team 17 report here—oh, your explosive specialist died? Here, have another! Three'll even out the team, un!'
Goddamnit…that's what they did to her.
And once they've died…there is nothing for them. And ultimately, they've essential done nothing for the village because there's always going to be someone bigger and better. And thus another wasted shinobi life.
Why do people condemn missing-nin? Is it so hard to understand why so many shinobi defect their homes, where they've been bred to serve nothing but the village? It's because the system's that screwed up, un. Let those good little shinobi deny it all they want—they'll be dead anyway and no one will care.
But I am a valued member of Akatsuki. And I'm doing a damn good job serving it to the fullest! I am being used, an inevitability I can't avoid simply because of my profession, but when I die, I'll do so with a smirk and laugh. Because my life was not spent uselessly, and I choose my own damn fate, un. I chose my death, and I chose my life.
Freedom…God, everything amounts to nothing without it.
Maybe Akatsuki is similar to a hidden village. In many ways, it is. Each of its members serve as part of a whole, and it falls on each of us to make it work. Ironically, hidden villages function that way, but we are not blindly devoted. We are not mere tools to be cast off and forgotten in an instant. We are Akatsuki. And we will damn well leave a mark on this world because we're not an insignificant village with only a Kage to their name.
We are individuals and we will die as individuals. In a way, each of us are art. Us ragtag group of missing-nins somehow managing to pull off this crazy scheme together. We broke out of the endless, eternal cycle controlling the hidden villages. We won't simply be raised only to die a martyr's death. Who the hell would want that, un? Our lives are going to be brief, but brilliant, and we'll force the villages to acknowledge us simply by existing! What regular shinobi can claim that?
Art is something that blossoms for an instant before withering away. It's a beauty that lasts for a moment. To me, the essence of art is explosions.
And that is how I force Iwagakure to acknowledge my existence. By making it blow up. Yearly.
But I still haven't done what I came here for…I think I have the 'therapy' part done. Thinking so hard always exhausts me because then I have to think about Iwagakure and why I left—things I want to leave be.
What's bringing me back, un? I can't stand the village, and my annual visits are dangerously close to becoming a habit, although scaring the shit out of Iwa-nin are always fun. But I think…I want to stop, un.
But to do that I really do need to sever all ties, and as far as I'm concerned I've already blown up the freaks who made my life hell here. Shame, un. So what…?
I know, of course. Frustratingly enough, even in my conscious thought I'm not very forthcoming. Coincidently, I go through this whole familiar process pretty much every year. Sad, but…what can I do?
Shrugging a little helplessly, I stood up; I hadn't realized I'd sat in my inner musings, but it was of little consequence.
Sasori-danna was in front of me.
"Deidara," Sasori impatiently drawled in Hiruko's gravely voice, "why haven't you caused a ruckus yet?"
An easy grin fell on my lips. "Sasori no danna, have some faith in me, un. I was too busy, but if you want to leave right now…"
"No," he said bluntly. "The last time you did that you destroyed Hiruko."
"But, Sasori-danna! Watching the results of hastily made art is a glorious thing, and if it brought about Hiruko's death than it didn't live in vain!"
Although it surely shouldn't have been possible, Sasori managed to make Hiruko's carved and permanent scowl even fiercer. Danna's scary. "If you define your reckless abandon with experimentation more as 'art' than the trash you usually make then you're even stupider than I thought. Are you trying to piss me off?"
"You salvaged Hiruko though, un! You've built him even stronger than before."
"Exactly, Deidara," Sasori hissed. "Salvaged. It took me months just to make him battle ready."
"But with the trees Ipointed out to you, Hiruko is as 'eternally beautiful' as ever."
"Do not mock Hiruko, Deidara. Or I'll kill you. And why haven't you destroyed anything yet? Hmph. Since you've somehow restrained yourself this year, it must mean you tire of your art and are ready to believe in mine."
I squawked in indignation. "It isn't just my art—it is art. It's the only art out there, Sasori-danna! An eternity of dust isn't nearly as flattering as you make it out to be, un!"
"Art is only something you can cherish and maintain with care. Your foolish definition of art never even lasts enough to be appreciated."
"That isn't true," I protested. "Iwa-nins appreciate it enough to cheer for it every year. Like fireworks, un! And I'm not going to let them down, danna!"
"You're delusional. The 'cheering' you hear is the sounds of their screams as you greet them," he intoned, seemingly bored with the conversation already. "Furthermore, your insistence on coming here every fall has made their defenses predictably fortified and yet you won't come at any other time."
It's with a pout and triple blown raspberries that I acknowledge his words. "I still think it's a great welcome."
"And just what are you planning to add to your own welcome party, Deidara?" If Sasori hadn't managed to sound as sarcastic as possible, his puppet's sheer deadpan expression more than made up for it.
My grin broadened. He took it as a bad sign; it was.
"Sasori-danna?" I said innocently. "You know that formula that I haven't used so far?"
Even though nothing broke through Hiruko's stoic exterior, his voice held something akin to mild horror. "You wouldn't…"
Gleefully, I added, rather unnecessarily, "It's the batch made with that weird phosphorus stuff. Remember, we filched it on our last mission?"
"Deidara…"
"What? There's no reason not to use it—"
"You intend to use the very same…untested clay made from something that would've killed Itachi if he were a lesser shinobi?"
"Well then," I continued cheerfully, "it's a good thing that Itachi can replace himself so quickly, un. I'm sure that burning phosphorus on skin is very painful if it drove my subordinate to immediate suicide. It looked almost as painful as Amaterasu, as I surely would've learned had Itachi actually been hit with some of it."
At the last thought, I snickered; I so loved to antagonize Itachi. Even if he'd been hit with some of my experiments accidentally, he wouldn't have been allowed to use something as fatal as Amaterasu anyways. Not just because I'm another member, but because Itachi's going bat-shit blind—no sense in making it worse.
I grinned at that thought.
But Sasori only sneered. "You lose a valuable subordinate because you tried attacking Itachi, and then you praise him for it?"
"I'm not as dependent on my subordinates as you are, un," I pointed out smugly.
"And if I'm not mistaken," he drawled, "you lost yet another subordinate by poisoning him. I'm still trying to figure out how you managed to produce such a potent poison, Deidara."
"So am I, Sasori-danna," I admitted, and he was definitely glaring at me for my sheepishness, I could tell. "But the batch I want to use is of the poisonous kind, Phosphorus Style, un!"
Eying me speculatively, Sasori-danna's sudden interest was tangible. "And how," he said slowly, as if trying to play off his curiosity, but he couldn't fool me, "does that work exactly?"
"That's what I want to find out," I chirped. "So, are you going to let me play with my art, un, or not?"
"…If you die now before you're able to make poison for Sandaime Kazekage, then I'll be the one to kill you. I'm going to make you into a puppet, Deidara!" Sasori threatened.
"Deal, un! But if I don't die then you have to admit—in writing!—that you think my art is real art, too! Oh, oh—! And you also have to admit that you admire and enjoy my art, too, Sasori-danna!"
"Deidara…"
"Writing, un!" I loudly said, already pulling out a suspiciously petite drawstring pouch. "You promised, Sasori-danna! You promised!"
Immediately, he stabbed me where I stood with Hiruko's tail, but I was already up in the air, cackling. "I promise no such thing," Sasori said furiously, and I could hear puppet teeth grind into one another.
I cackled again, distancing myself even further with another beat of my bird's wings. This was what I was born to do—fly through the sky and drop potentially cataclysmic bombs below.
Art is a bang. And the ensuing hissing yelling clouds that erupted with the usual hazy red and orange smoke was completely worth dabbling in explosives outside of chakra and clay alone.
True to Sasori-danna's word, the cheering began. In the form of screams. Life was good.
Life was even better, I realized suddenly as I was chased by Anbu Black Ops, because I'd forgotten to mention to Sasori-danna that this formula actually was previously tested. And so I wouldn't die since I already knew what would happen if I exploded this supposedly 'untested' clay. My next grin almost split my face.
Days later, when we finally reached Headquarters, it still hurt to smile.
Unfortunately, it also hurt to walk, talk, and eat, too, un. Sasori-danna had figured out rather quickly that the bet was null from the start. Which was bad since we had to go through some mountains to get back home, and that definitely didn't help his mood none. Hiruko-chan doesn't like mountains.
Sasori-danna is rather impatient for a near immortal. And he especially hated it whenever I was the one making him wait.
He'd been waiting for me to die, it seems.
Flattering that he'd consider me puppet material; there was nothing more he loved than his puppetry. However, I rather liked living and breathing, thanks. At least he wasn't tooangry—Sasori-danna actually looked pretty happy for someone who'd just seen and liked my trashyart.
Obviously, he was happy that poison that potent was effectively his now, but he could have at least complimented me for it, un! The poison looked that much better delivered through a clay bird medium! He liked my art! A lot! He was really impressed with my performance. I know he was!
But I never got any of that in writing, un. I was sad when we'd reached our hideout with nothing to show for my injuries.
"Waah! Sasori no danna's so mean to me, un," I mock-sobbed piteously to my good friend Kisame. Itachi was, thankfully, not part of our welcoming committee. Not that danna cared much; he rolled his eyes at my dramatics, and shuffled past Kisame without a greeting. Howboorish, danna.
Kisame poked me with a friendly sneer. "You should have known better, Deidara. What'd you do this time…blow up Sasori-san?" Over his shoulder, he jeered, "Hey, Sasori-san! Did he blow you up again?"
Sasori's answering glare made Kisame bark with laughter.
"Hey!" I shrilled, bouncing on my feet. "I didn't blow up danna, un! It was just the one time!"
"Deidara," Sasori hissed. "Did you forget already? Prepare it for me or I'll kill you."
Sasori-danna shuffled out of sight, an irate air to him that made Kisame look bemused. He turned to me, grinning. "Just how many times did he threaten you now?"
"Un…five since we left Iwa. Sasori no danna's really mean!"
"Uhuh. And did he threaten to make you into a puppet again?"
I sniffed pathetically. "Kisame!"
Chuckling, Kisame patted me on the head like a child and I pouted at him for it. "So, just what could the great Sasori of the Red Sands want from a crazy Iwa-nin?"
Plastering a smile on my face, I ignored the inadvertent reference to Iwa. "Muu…Sasori-danna won't admit how much he liked my newest art, un. I tested out my poisonous clay on Iwa and now danna wants the poison without the clay!" I sniffed. "What a waste!"
His smile turned wry. "I never would have believed Sasori-san would be reduced to getting poison from you. He's actually interested, eh?"
"Yup!" I chirped, 180 turnabout attitude at full blast. "Thought danna would've liked seeing that batch than the one I almost got on Itachi."
"Damn. So that's why Itachi-san looked pissed."
Perking up, I exclaimed, "You mean I actually got some on him?"
"No, brat. But I suggest you don't try it again. Itachi-san's a pain in the ass when he wants to be."
Laughing, I waved away his concerns. Not that they were too sincere; Kisame was grinning again, sharp teeth all exposed.
"Did you finally do what you've wanted to do this year?" Kisame looked thoughtful now, and there was only a slight sneer on his face. But then, there's always a sneer on his face, so I wasn't too bothered. I froze at his question, though, at the insinuation behind it, until I remembered something else.
Kisame already knew.
I relaxed. I'd forgotten about that.
Kisame's the only other Akatsuki who knows remotely why I even go back every year. He just never brought it up—until now, obviously. He must be curious. I have been going for five years now…
My smile dropped. "No," I admitted slowly. "I was a coward again…un."
He sighed. "Meh. Coward or not, did you at least have some fun? I haven't seen Sasori-san look this distracted in awhile. It must have been quite the explosion to make the bastard this eager."
Feeling a quip in my throat, most likely at danna's expense, I felt my mood rise as I started to recount my trip. Kisame responded here and there, seemingly genuinely interested; it must've been because I've never used a poison component in my clay before.
That's what I like about Kisame. He's the only one I can have a real conversation with around here, un.
But he's not Sasori-danna. Sasori-danna, with his eloquent silences and subtleties in his posture that I really need to pay attention to catch, or even the slight nuances of Hiruko's expression. Sasori-danna, with his caustic words and searing replies. All his impatience and short temper. I don't see Sasori-danna himself much anymore…he likes Hiruko too much, un.
I don't seehim anymore.
At one point I must have trailed off in my speech because now Kisame had an amused expression.
"W-what?" I said. Missing-nins don't stutter, but he was starting to stare at me.
Suddenly, his blank face was overcome by a grin. Another grin. A sly grin. He knows something, un! But what? What, what?
"What?" I demanded. I squinted suspiciously at him when he didn't reply, his cheerful leer his only answer.
"Maa, maa, Deidara-kun…" I was instantly on alert; a Kisame playful enough to add an honorific to my name was an occasion that was far and in between but never a good thing. "…Since when are you so taken with Sasori-san, hm?"
What?!
"What!" I squawked out for the third time today. "I'm not—! Kisame!"
Snickering, he patted me on the head again. I met this action with a scowl instead of the pout from earlier.
"But seriously, kid, don't get so hung up on Sasori-san." The former Kiri-nin was grimacing now. "That guy…he'd cut you off quicker than you can gawk at another one of your explosions. You're a liability to him."
"I know."
"You know the risks, Deidara," Kisame warned. "Don't get too close. You won't like how the story ends."
"I know." I grinned. "I'm not stupid, Kisame. I know Akatsuki owns my ass, and Sasori no Danna is a bastard, yeah, but I like him. I can't help it, I like him."
"Have it your way," he shrugged, "but don't be surprised when the guy up and leaves you to die on a mission. It's Sasori-san's way. I don't want to come back and find out you're dead because you were stupid enough to fall behind, all right, kid?"
"Oh, you'll know when I'm dead, un," I replied. "If I'm going to die, I'll do it with a bang. Look to the skies, yeah?"
Past and present tense will be changed accordingly, but it'll never consistently stay in one tense. It may be aggravating, but what I'm going for in each chapter is a mesh of streaming thoughts because each chapter is an introspective piece of Deidara's head. Next chapter is titled "Worth" which is over 10000 words, unedited.