A/N- okay, this is going to be a little hard to understand, but bear with me. I just wanted to post this. Thought it would be fun.

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What do you do, when everything seems to crumble, and you aren't sure where to turn? She wasn't sure either. If there was a God, he had to be laughing right now. He was the only possible being in existence who would even dare. She owned Satan, so his rights had gone out the window the day she had snapped on a shock collar. But God? Yeah, no way in her new realm of Hell she was even gone try to own God. That just wasn't right, even in her twisted mind.

Right, what's going on, ne? Well, our heroine is a spunky 20 year old girl with dyed neon orange hair the length of her shoulders, and stormy grey eyes. Standing at 5'6", she was a diminutive force to be reckoned with. Her temper was legendary, and tales of her rare moments of rage had spread from the Land of Water in the West to beyond the border of the Lands of Earth and Wind in the East, to the Land of Lightning in the North, and beyond. A force to be reckoned with indeed, and not even a ninja (Eh, Deidara, in this fic, was not killed by Sasuke and his own stupidity, but alive and well, and still working for the Akatsuki at the lovely age of 22.)

She was a thief, wily and cunning and stealthy, even with a neon notice board like her hair. Her targets varied widely, but always brought her tons of cash that she stocked away for emergencies. She didn't need riches. She lived for the theft, the challenge, and the journey from one place to another. She had one accomplice, an eleven year old girl, that she had saved from the white slave trade.

A little Japanese girl who could blend into towns and odd jobs better than a trained shinobi. Itsu was her name, and according to her name sake, she hid and hid well. She herself was Tsuyayaka, beautiful in her mother's eyes as the only daughter in a house full of boys. Really rough and tumble boys. So she knew a thing or two about fighting, and fighting well. And now……TO LE STORY!

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"Tsuya-sama! I'm back!", Itsu called from the front door as she came in out of the rain, her short hair dripping from the down pour. The small house she rented with her master in the dinky little town was silent and dark. But not cold, Itsu noticed. She closed the door, and then hung her cloak up on the hook her master had made for her short arms to reach. She paused as she stared at her tiny little hands. I want to do more, she thought, More for Shishou. But with these tiny hands, what can I do??

"You're home early, Itsu. Did something go wrong?", asked a soft voice from the doorway to the next room. Itsu looked up slowly, her eyes worshipful as she gazed at the woman she had deemed her savior. She shook her head back and forth, twisting her vision and sending water droplets everywhere.

" Iya. Everyone received an early day today. But I know for a fact that the package is arriving tonight. And there were rumors among the servants, Shishou. Bad ones.", she murmured, remembering the frightened whispers of the house's servant and domestics. Shinobi, dangerous S-class rouge shinobi. This job would be extraordinarily difficult. She twiddled her foot, afraid to tell her master, who's temper was horribly frightening when something went wrong.

"Oh?", her master asked, raising one fine brow in nonchalant askance.

"They say that the master of the house contracted S-class rouges to guard his precious trinkets. They are dangerous, and covered in blood, so the whispers go.", Itsu murmured, worried that if her master got hurt, no one would care for her anymore. And she knew master would view this as a challenge, meaning nothing would stop her from going now.

Her master tapped her chin in a thoughtful rhythm. Itsu could see the cogs turning and whirring inside her head, adapting plans and escape routes to incorporate the factor of S-class shinobi. This job would be difficult.

"Shishou? What will you do? May I help??", Itsu asked, praying her master said yes.

"Itsu, when does the shipment arrive?", he master asked, her eyes shadowed by her hair. The little girl gulped.

"Just after one, tonight. In Dock 8, and there are to be a least two extra platoons of guards, besides the shinobi. It'll arrive on a cargo freighter from the land of the Bear. Other than that, I could find out nothing." Itsu said, hanging her head, "Gomen, Shishou." Tsuya lifted a hand and waved it back and forth, as though she were dispelling the girl's words from the air.

"Iya, Iya. It's fine, Itsu. You did well child. The shinobi are not your fault. And you've already helped me immensely.", her master's response was airy, gently, and light. She was not disappointed.

"Now, you're soaking wet. I just drew a bath and it should be warm. Go.", her master ordered, and Itsu trotted happily up the hall towards a very welcome tub of hot water.

Well, she knew that this particular job wasn't going to be easy to begin with, but this was ridiculous! All her nice, neat, perfect plans had been tossed out the window. Competing with S-Class shinobi, yeah, that was an award wining idea. Still……it was a tempting thought. If she still managed the job, people wouldn't even trust shinobi to do just protection any more. And that would mean easier future jobs.

Tsuya continued to think as she walked into the kitchen, knowing Itsu would be hungry after her bath. She herself had the nibbles, so what could a little snack hurt? Many of her mother's maids had hated her for her ability to have shameless affairs with junk food and still retain a long and slender frame. What the maids hadn't known was the fact that fat never had time to stick to her because she was burning calories so fast just trying to keep up with her brothers, it was frightening.

Also, those silly women forgot that Tsuya was only twenty years old (Deidara is twenty-two in this story), and she had better metabolism than fifty and sixty year old crones like themselves. Tsuya snorted, remembering the short tempered women.

Her knife flashed with practiced ease as she swiftly cut up some fruit, out of season, but sold none the less. With a tired sigh, she washed the knife when she was finished, then pecked at some apples slices, still formulating her plan. As she dwindled away time, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what these shinobi would look like. God knew her love life had been obliterated the day she'd made it forcibly clear she wasn't going to marry some guy just because her parents said so. And then proceeded to hurt him very badly when he himself did not get the picture.

She had heard that she'd done plenty of damage with just her fists. Three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, his left leg broken in three different places, a completely shattered right knee cap, a broken nose, two black eyes, a split and puffy lip, eight out of ten fingers broken, and a fractured skull. And all she'd done was whack him around a little.

She smirked. Ok, so she'd whacked him around a lot. Not that he hadn't deserved it. With a shake of her head, she booted the thoughts of her would-be fiancé unceremoniously out of her mind. She had a heist to prepare for.

--

"I'm bored, un.", a mysterious blonde whined. BAM! The little bird in his hand disappeared in a small explosion. Whack! The blonde's head flew forward from the force of a blue-haired individual's strike.

"Hush, you fool.", the woman snapped. The blonde raised his head, rubbing an anime bump with an obvious pout on his lips.

"That hurt, Konan, yeah.", he whined, but didn't explode anything else as the ship moved slowly closer to the harbor with every passing moment. Instead, he took out a kunai and began twirling it around his index finger with a bored air, half hoping it would slip and nail Konan somewhere painful. He resisted the urge to snort, like that could happen.

"Deidara.", Leader rasped, "Can you see them?" Without answering, Deidara lifted his blonde bangs and pressed the focus on his scope. With two sharp 'Click's, a small group of armored guards, and a richly dressed man appeared in the line of his scope's sight. That, Deidara assumed, would be their employer. A quick scan of the area revealed no traps and no strange individuals in the shadows around the little group.

"Yeah. Thirteen armored guards. Swords, daggers, some chains, nothing big, yeah. And an ugly, fat, rich sludge ball in the middle, un. That's all.", he murmured, knowing Leader-sama would understand.

A gentle 'THUMP' announced the boat's arrival at the edge of the dock, the small hired crew scuttling around, eager to deliver their ninja cargo. A few in particular, the ones who'd made the mistake of hitting on Konan, would be particularly delighted to see the back of them. With a bored yawn, Deidara stood, and stretched, his mouths all opening wide to stretch unused jaws. Leader walked past him, carrying a small, bejeweled box in his hands.

He walked steadily down the gandplank, relaxed almost, while their little organization trickled after him, all stretching and yawning in boredom. The whole damn gang was here, and no one really understood why. The group slowly approached the party waiting a good fifty feet from the water's edge. As Leader-sama approached, the ugly thing that was paying them pulled out a large briefcase. He opened it, showing stacks of bills. Kakuzu whistled appreciatively.

"5,000,000. As agreed.", the little man sneered, and his voice made Deidara shudder. Slowly Leader-sama and the idiot faced off, and exchanged the little box for the briefcase at the exact same time.

"Our contract is terminated. We are no longer responsible for any goods transported to you.", Leader said, ending the deal.

"I accept those terms.", the little pudgy man replied.

"Oh, excellent. Best news I've heard all day.", a taunting female voice called out from the darkness. The two groups spun as one in time to see a black whip streak from the darkness, snatch the little box, and then disappear back into the shadows from whence is came. (A/N Corny, I know, but I found it funny. Eh heh heh…")

The armored guards began to run around in a huge uproar, until a slim figure in a hooded cloak appeared on the roof above their heads. The face of the thief was hidden by all of the shadows, and all even Deidara or Itachi could make out was a pale complexion, soft and full lips, and the evil smirk adorning them. He found it slightly attractive, really. She flicked two of her fingers in a salute.

"Adieu!", she called, before doing a back flip back into the darkness, her steps dying away into the night. And in the wake of those foot steps: utter chaos.

"Stop him!", their former employer howled, "He's getting away!!" Pein, as he counted out the bills in the suitcase, proceeded to shrug.

"No longer our problem.", he said, never looking at the now devastated man. Deidara smothered a chuckle. All in all, that girl couldn't have planned it better if she'd tried.

--

Lucky, lucky, lucky! Really, that was too easy. They'd concluded the deal, terminated the contract, and WHOOSH, she'd swooped in, gotten the prize….and gotten away. And if Kanryu Takeda wasn't the ugliest man Tsuya had ever seen, she'd mercifully forgotten what the other man looked like. He didn't walk, he waddled, dragged down by his rolls and folds of fat that strained behind ridiculously expensive silk clothing. Clothing that was chosen poorly, at that.

The man was short, even for Tsuya, with his belly wider than he was tall. His skin was sallow, and had a yellowish tinge that bespoke of kidney problems. His black eyes were small, and had the pig-like quality of being beady and short sighted. His nose was scrunched, looking like it had been broken a few times; Tsuya would have loved to have added to those numbers, but she wasn't a fool.

His clothing had been mismatched in cut, and the colors all horribly wrong. Either he dressed himself, or his Master of the Wardrobe needed a change of profession. Who put light pink, spring green, and pumpkin orange together, honestly?

Those shinobi, however, were top notch. As to why Kanryu had hired all of them, when two or three would have sufficed, was a mystery she couldn't be bothered to contemplate. Hell, the rich were always excessive, if she recalled her past right. She'd just be grateful that she didn't have eight or nine of 'em on her trail right now, in hot pursuit. Lucky couldn't even begin to describe tonight.

With a gentle push, Tsuya took to the rooftops, jumping from one to the next with practiced ease. Shinobi weren't the only ones who could do it! After a twenty minuet span, Tsuya dropped down onto her own roof, then slid in through the unused chimney.

Itsu sat curled up in a white winged-back chair, asleep, waiting for her master's return. Tsuya shook her head. Silly girl. Then she turned around and applied pressure to one of the floor boards, then hid the little box in the safe hidden beneath the floor.

Her prize safely stored, Tsuya stretched, and then picked Itsu up, and carried her into the bedroom they shared. She placed the little girl on her futon and covered her, before turning to the closet and changing into a tank top and pajama pants. She tousled her hair royally and practiced sleepy looks in the mirror. Perfect. And with that, Tsuya slipped into bed.

--

The next morning, Deidara wandered through town, glad to have ditched Tobi, even if only for a few hours. The whole town was abuzz with the story of last night's theft. Not that he truly cared. It was funny, actually.

He'd been looking at the same pottery stall for twenty minuets when a flash of eye burning color caught his eye. Neon orange hair. Wait, what?! Deidara looked again, and this time his eyes registered the hair, and the face it went with.

She sat on a tall legged stool, half of her obscured by a canvas, with a table of paints spread out next to her. He watched as she lifted a small brush, dipped it into what looked like black paint, and went back to work. His curiosity piqued, Deidara circled around so that he was ten feet behind her, looking over her shoulder as she painted. It was a striking image of the market stalls before her, with all the people in it. Him too!

He studied his image, unconsciously coming closer. Finally, when he was close enough to rest his chin on her shoulder, he spoke, startling her.

"My nose isn't that big, un."

"YIPE!", she cried, whirling around in a halo of orange, to fall off the stool in a small cloud of dust. Deidara snickered, enjoying her slowly reddening expression, and the view up her knee length skirt. Finally, he offered a hand, feeling remorseful at the disappearance of her lacy green thong.

Much to his surprise, she didn't take his hand. Instead she shot to her feet and beamed him across the face with what could only be described as a devastating right hook. He could have sworn that more than one part of his face snapped under the force of her blow. S-class criminal he was, but that punch sent him sprawling into the dust on his ass, nursing a severe bloody nose.

"You lecherous pervert!", she screeched, raising her fists to hit him again. With a yelp, he scrambled up and out of the way. There went his dignity. She threw another punch at him, and another, forcing him to back away across the square amid the laughter of the early morning shoppers. With a sharp move, he caught her wrists in his hands. Really tiny and dainty wrists, he noticed.

"Calm down, un! There was no need for violence.", his voice was slightly nasally from all the blood blocking his sinus passages. Her grey eyes narrowed dangerously as she stood on tip-toe to yell in his face.

"You're a damned pervert, and you deserve what you got! And more, as soon as you let go of my wrists, damn it.", She snarled, struggling with surprising strength. Deidara's eyebrows shot up.

"Easy, Princess, un.", he said, suddenly aware of all the passersby who were stopping to watch the show. He gave them all a sheepish look as he started to drag her away.

"Lady troubles, yeah. What can you do?" Some of the men in the crowd nodded sympathetically and the crowed slowly dispersed as he pulled her down a quiet alley where she finally wiggled free enough to slap him, -HARD, he might add- before he caught hold of her wrists again. She geared up to give him another taste of the rough edge of her tongue.

"LADY TROUBLES! I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!! HOW DARE YO-", she started when he cut her off the only way he could. He slammed his lips on hers, grateful for the silence that gave his poor ears a reprieve.

She was still as stone in his arms, and just as yielding, but her lips were warm and soft, and Deidara was intrigued despite himself. Slowly, he pulled back to give her a cocky smirk.

"Y'know, Princess, I like you better with your mouth shut." He quipped, but she didn't move, her eyes thrown wide and her body rigid as stone. He released her wrists and waved one hand in front of her eyes, the mouth on his palm wiggling it's tongue at her in an attempt to get a reaction.

Nothing. She didn't even blink at the strange sight of mouths on his hands.

"Hey, Princess, you ok, yeah?" Her eyes finally flickered, then met his in a blank stare.

"What…the…FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR??", she screamed, pegging him with a stinging slap.

His face snapped to the side sharply, and his neck cracked. Jeez, he thought, his face smarting, 'Where the hell'd she learn to be so damn violent? Her temper'd best Konan's.' He grabbed her wrists again, not really hearing her screaming and ranting. She was actually kinda cute when she was angry. But, she wasn't much Deidara's type. He noted that her face was smeared with blood from his nose. He smirked. They probably both looked a sight with her messed up hair, mutinous expression, dusty and misplaced clothes, and slightly puffy lips from his kiss.

Some how, he doubted he looked any better. He realized that she'd finally stopped screaming, and was panting, her chest heaving as she gulped down great mouthfuls of air.

"Oi, Princess, since this is kinda your fault, you got a place I can wash the blood off at least, un?", he asked. Her next expression clearly stated: HELL NO. He shrugged.

"Fine then, yeah. We can both walk out of here looking like we just had a thorough romp." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, fully enjoying the crimson staining her cheeks as she took in both his appearance and her own.

"God-fucking-dammit.", she cursed. He cocked his head to the side, liking that fact that she did the not so lady-like thing of cursing. And she had one hell of a punch. Maybe she was his type after all. Now, if only she had a body to back it all up, and if she could cook, which he doubted. Women seemed unable to cook these days.

He gave her a swift once over. Small chest, baggy clothes, no hips as far as he could see, but her face wasn't bad. And she was kinda short. Her head just barely reached his shoulder. He did like the hair, though. He really liked the hair. Even with the weird color, it smelled like jasmine flowers. One of the few flowers he liked at all.

She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out the back of the alley, away from the market.

"You owe me a new canvas, dammit! I suppose I can salvage the paints and brushes. But that canvas is probably ruined now!", she continued to grumble and growl and she led him through the more rural part of town to stop in front of a middle sized house, painted a pleasant off white color, with midnight blue porch and railings.

"Come on.", she snarled, pulling him up the steps and through the big front door into a warm and well lit hall. He glanced down at his cloak and fought the urge to curse. It was covered in blood and paint and dust. And so was he.

"I might need a bath, un." She looked back at him, and began to curse fluently.

"(So little eyes are not scarred forever, I must censor these words.)

-very long bleep that drowns out words that would burn a sailor's ears.-

"Grrrrr…fine." Deidara smirked. Gotta love that feminine temper.

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E/N- I know, I know. Hard to follow, but I hope it was at least fun to read! Adieu!! disappears in a puff of smoke