No Need for Spoken Words

Author's Note: This was a one hour self-challenge to write on transition, though I am not certain of whether or not I managed to make the message clear. This is a one-shot, though I am considering extending it.

This story begins after Deidara blows himself up for the last time, but he does not die, and things diverge from there. I tried to mellow him down slightly as a result of his failing to become art and the impact of death finally hitting him after his brush with it. Ino, I believe, is normal enough.

Deidara felt nothing as the explosion shook him, beyond the pure joy and exultation of becoming a work of art. For an artist, there could be nothing greater than being a part of art's creation. He was lost in euphoria and barely felt any pain, though he was vaguely aware for that moment before he died that he was, in fact, dying. All he could think was that he had succeeded to making a lovely, though ephemeral, work.

After an indeterminable amount of time, he fell into a point between life and death, where he drifted in a half-dream over the endless boughs of time. He might have spent the rest of his existence that way, he thought, when he suddenly felt cold stone against his back. One eye opened quickly before closing to peer up at someone who looked like him. After doing it once more, he noticed that it was a female who had similar appearance to himself. If his sight had blurred any more, he might have thought that it was himself.

He would have waited a bit longer to regain his bearings before alerting her that he was conscious, but suddenly, there were two hands laid on his brow. He felt chakra running through him, urging his body to mend its wounds. Deidara's survival instincts surfaced, and he grabbed her wrist whilst pinning her with one blue eye. "Who are you, yeah?" His demand came out of his raw throat as something between a growl and a whisper. There was little menace in the tone, but it was slightly grating on the ears. As he waited for her to reply, he ran his tongue over her small hand to better gauge her character. A hand was a sure measure of a person, so Deidara often examined the hands of others to judge them. There was the initial flinch, but his grip was firm. Her scent was of pollen and fresh flowers, but she tasted of blood. She was a ninja, just as he was, as further evidenced by her hand, which was marred by calluses and healing scars.

The girl who looked like him was uncomfortable with the wet sensation along her hand. She tried again to pull away, but was unsuccessful. "I found you," she answered instead, keeping her gaze on his one visible eye.

Deidara's hold did not loosen. "Who are you, yeah?" he asked again, hoarsely.

The blonde girl started to become angry. She had done a good deed, but he was now acting suspicious. Her emotions showed in her words as she replied, in a louder voice than before, "I am Ino. I found you."

The sculptor scowled. "Do not say it like it is something to be proud of. You did not do me a favor, yeah." He could have been a passing work of art-- part of a beautiful thing which existed for merely a moment. Indeed, he would have died satisfied knowing that, but he had survived… because of her?

Her blue eyes flashed defiantly. "Too bad. I have already decided to take care of you until you are well."

Deidara was silent. Surprisingly, he found that he liked this silence. He had nearly died, and his partner was dead. Not to mention, his lungs hurt. He would not be able to talk at length, even if there were something to talk about. It was a weary world left to him by the dead.

"What is your name?" asked Ino.

The missing-nin turned away. "Deidara."

Most curiously, she repeated the name to herself as though it were very sweet.

They continued their pseudo-relationship for a few days. After Ino had healed her patient to a certain degree, Deidara requested clay. He pulled out his pouch and tossed what remained of his currency into her hand and sent her off to find him some of his medium. If he could not die as art, he wanted to continue creating it first. It would not matter what type she bought, though he had given her a list.

He did fear that she might run off and leave him, but he somehow knew that she would not. Although there was no shared blood between them-- he was certain of that-- Deidara found that he was somewhat fond of her. He had learned that she was fifteen years of age and had been on a mission when she found him near a decimated area. The deadline had been long past and she was probably declared missing while on mission, but she admitted that she could not leave him because he looked like her. To leave him to die, she said, would be like seeing another version of her left for death.

Such a reason!

He had laughed, laboriously forcing air to his healing lungs, when he learned why she was loathe to leave him. She was a child, really, compared to his seventeen years. She had never seen real problems. This kunoichi, this Ino, was a fool, but he also could not leave her. It was more than the fact that he was currently disabled. He could not deny that she did resemble him. Mayhap it was some form of narcissism, but he was more than somewhat attracted to her similarity, and to leave her would be to abandon himself.

He could not bear to do it.

"A storm is brewing," Ino noted one morning, even as she arranged flowers in an old jar.

Deidara looked up from the spider he was forming for a moment, meeting her blue eyes with his own gaze, before returning to his art. Storm clouds rolled in the distance, and he could just barely hear the sounds of thunder. Doubtless, the lightning bolts would begin hurling themselves soon. They were safe from the vengeance of nature while inside the cave. He found his eye involuntarily return to her, the one who was so much like him yet not, and wondered if he should speak. His mouth opened, but he closed it soon after. His lungs still hurt from the damage he had taken in such close proximity, so he did not.

He settled down to watch her arrange the wildflowers she had cut from the rest of the world. Those flowers belonged to only the two of them now. She had murdered the poor blossoms, ended their lives, for this passing pleasure it would give them. He let his lips curve up into a smile which told his emotions more easily than words could.

She noted it and returned his smile.

Deidara liked to watch her arrange flowers. Ikebana was an old art with many traditions, certainly, but he could not quite explain why he enjoyed watching her. It might have been the way her fingers would move confidently and carefully over the stems before moving up to caress a flower petal occasionally. His visible eye would move to her face, and she would give him a sly wink as she continued to touch the flowers, tenderly arranging them into a beautiful work of art. However, regardless of where her eyes were, she was aware of the flowers in her hands.

Indeed, it was art, but he only enjoyed watching it because she did it so very well. An artist could not help but appreciate another artist, and it was always a pleasure to see a skilled person work. He considered the notion, but could not deny that there was another reason: mayhap it was because she was the one doing it. Deidara watched as Ino ran a knuckle gently over a pale flower with five wide petals which he did not know the name of. Unbidden, a thought came to his mind. "I try to say that I love you, but the words die in my mouth every time."

It left a bitter taste on his tongue. He turned back to the clay he was molding into the form of a bird and crushed it completely to begin anew.

It was raining when they left the cave together for the first time. There was no regal, splendid sun emerging from the dark sky to greet them, nor were there any creatures out in the forest. There was only rain and more rain. They stood at the entrance of the cave, looking out at the foggy surroundings. It seemed dismal.

Suddenly, there was a pause in the fall. Slowly, silence came upon them, and the world was no longer in mourning for a few moments. The weather seemed to be holding, though the clouds still threatened rain, but at this period between time, there was a hollow for him to fill. Using chakra and his hands, Deidara quickly made his companion a rose out of his dwindling supply of clay and presented it to her.

Ino rewarded him with a toothy smile, obvious in its pleasure. Unfortunately, her words seemed to defy it. "Real roses," she remarked as she watched the rain suddenly begin to fall once more, "are more beautiful."

The rose, held together by chakra, exploded in her hand as its creator lost control.

"But," she continued with a mischievous look, "things as simple as falling rain and clay roses can still make one feel emotion." She took his hand in hers. "Simple things can rouse the strongest of emotions…" Ino leaned towards him and whispered the last words hotly against his ear. "…such as elation."

Deidara wondered if he should hug her, but Ino had already begun to move down the road. He caught up with her shortly. Now that his body had healed, he was nearly back up to par regarding speed and other such things. "Do not leave me behind, yeah!" he reprimanded her sharply, only to be answered with a half-mocking, tinkling laugh.

They raced each other down the road, behaving like two normal siblings. They were not ninja for that path to the nearest village, but two children. For those minutes, they were unacquainted with the harsh world of the ninja, unacquainted with blood or battle, unacquainted with reality. It all returned when they neared at the gates of the small town ahead and noted a ninja prowling about the perimeter.

A guard stopped Ino on her way into the village by placing a hand on her arm. "Random checks. Halt and identify yourself."

Ino smiled disarmingly. "Hana. I am from Rice Country with my cousin." She lied with such ease.

Deidara was displeased to note that he was possessive of her company enough to feel mild vexation that she was being touched by another person.

The guard seemed satisfied with her answer. "Welcome to Mizumizawa."

However, the guard was not the only one ready to welcome Deidara.

"Welcome back, Deidara," greeted a man in a black cloak. There were red clouds decorating it.

Ino was determined to break free from the stifling confines of the endless halls in the Akatsuki hideout. It was her first day here, thanks to Deidara's insistence that she come along, and she had gotten lost quickly. She veered back the way she come and stepped into another hall, just in time to see a strange scene.

"Do not worry! It is okay to cry!" declared the orange-masked person excitedly as he tried to follow the sculptor.

Deidara turned around and kicked the door to his room closed. "I do not cry, yeah!" he shouted irately through the door.

After the masked person had left, Ino went to knock on Deidara's door. It swung open after a few moments.

"Why are you still here, yeah?" demanded Deidara when he saw who his caller was. It was strangely reminiscent of their first conversation, but his voice was not as grating.

Ino decided that she liked his normal voice. "Curiosity, I suppose, or love." The sudden widening of his visible eye made her wonder if she should have added the last bit. She did love him, though she was uncertain of whether it was some twisted form of narcissism, the cliché romantic love, or simply a love bred from similarity and familiarity. What she did know was that when the last flower, wherever it was in the world, began to wilt, she would be willing to be beside Deidara by any means necessary and ready to comfort him whether by tears or laughter.

He said nothing.

By listening, Ino knew that Deidara had not such quiet behavior before his near-death from which she had rescued him from simply because he looked like herself. It did show that brushes with death tended to change people, but she felt that it was unhealthy for him to continue his despondency. "Let us go outside and watch the sky," she suggested with a smile.

Deidara followed her with a wooden expression.

It was a desolate evening they found, even with muted colors streaking after the dying sun. The light was becoming dimmer every moment, and there were no wild creatures about. Even the wind had ceased to be, though it had blown fitfully only hours earlier, proven by the torn, ragged leaves which were scattered on the ground beneath what were now still trees. The world seemed silent, but that only meant that there was more room for them.

Ino and Deidara laid themselves on the ground, listening to each other breathing, the dripping of some leftover rain which had collected on a leaf, and the sound of their heart's melodies playing against each other. They dreamed, wide-awake, under the sky as the colors gave way to somber black. Soon, they were alone, except for each other, under distant stars which had come out to speckle the sky.

The blonde female pointed up at the sky with a single digit, gesturing to one of the many stars in the wide expanse. "When you need me, you will find me there."

He nodded.

Oh, they were young, they were heedless. They saw each other, but did not see themselves properly. They were already in each other not only because of similar appearance, but also because they cared. If they looked far enough, they would have found each other in themselves. Oblivious, the two ninja slept together under the stars, apart but feeling close since they knew that there was someone else under the same sky.

When morning came, with the air cool and calm in the light of the new day, Deidara could not find the words he wanted to say. He did not say anything. Instead, he took her hand in his own.

He suspected that Ino understood, anyways.