A/N Hey guys, this is the first fanfiction I'm uploading. Thanks for reading and I hope you will enjoy it :)
When Orochimaru was still in Akatsuki and operating as Sasori's partner, the puppeteer liked to ponder on how the colours making up the former Konoha ninja and his matched rather well. Orochimaru's were that of black, gold and purple. Black was like the shadows between the trees and the rocks, the darkness in the crevices which snakes often slither through. Purple and gold painted an ethereal-like aura around the man, giving him a look of what seemed like a mysterious royalty.
Sasori's own were red and brown. The red of his hair was like the blood his endless enemies-turned-victims shed over the twenty (almost thirty) years he'd lived; the brown of his irises the same shade of brown as the fine quality wood he carefully selected to construct his puppets. Red and brown gave the aura of a seemingly calm and composed man with a burning passion within his heart.
Black, purple and gold; red and brown, the five colours did not really mix that well on an artist's palette. But at least both were the auras of people who carried controlled strength and passion rather than an unrestrained explosion of energy.
In spite of various stereotypes that mysterious, quiet people like Sasori should be associated with the colour black, he didn't really like it all that much. Black represented death, or an everlasting darkness that seemed to have no escapes. He very much preferred his own ashen brown, carrying with it the long lives of rainforest trees. That didn't mean to say he hated the colour though.
Or at least not until his partner had forsaken him.
…
In the weeks after Orochimaru betrayed the organisation, Sasori frowned at the Akatsuki cloak he was made to wear in disdain. It was dyed black like the hair of that bastard he actually thought of as a partner, and looking at it only fuelled the rage lying somewhere deep inside his not-so-living body.
He was glad that the Akatsuki didn't have meetings where everyone was gathered together very often. Seeing a whole gathering of black cloaks, and more of them with black hair -that new addition Uchiha Itachi who called out the bastard his partner was- was going to make him puke metaphorical blood.
…
And then just when he was getting used to working alone with the nice peace and quiet (he tried desperately to ignore the black loneliness that was clawing at his heart like a black crow), he was called back to the Akatsuki's hideout to meet Leader-sama along with the Kisame and Itachi duo, where Leader was going to give them information on a potential Akatsuki recruit, aka Sasori's new partner.
As he was presented the file containing the potential recruit's information, the first thing Sasori observed meticulously was the photograph. One glimpse of the glaringly vibrant blonde hair and his eyebrows creased into a frown. It was not the dirty blonde that many Sunagakure people had, nor the platinum blonde of Konoha's Yamanaka Clan. Everything screamed loud, annoying and disturbingly happy. It was the one colour that Sasori avoided at all cost in his artwork. It didn't help that he was giving a very wide grin in the picture. It was a devious one, but a grin was a grin. Ninjas weren't supposed to be happy pills.
He tried to convince himself that after all, one's personality had no influence on their outer appearance and vice versa. Outer appearances were determined by genetics, whereas one's personality was nurtured by their environment. Not to mention that Konoha's own Yellow Flash had hair of around the same colour but was said to have a rather calm disposition that granted him the role of Hokage.
However, when he started reading the written description of the blonde, most of his hope that his new partner would not be annoying came crashing down on him. There, detailing Deidara's area of expertise, was the word explosives.
"He seems like the type to die young."
…
The sunset cast a warm glow of yellow against the wooden boards. Statues that reached the high ceiling stood proudly in armours, carrying their metal weapons. The light of the sunset made the statues gleam with quiet intimidation as it stood protectively over the lone figure wearing a teal kimono jacket secured by a grey sash.
Sasori scrutinised Deidara's hunched form with a frown. Yellow, bright blue, teal, grey and black. It was a contrasting yet interesting mix of colours painting just one individual. Teal, to Sasori, reflected depth and individualism. The young shinobi seemed to be a contradiction. He hummed silently. Maybe the blonde is more than what he seemed to be.
He still looked like a brat though.
(Sasori wasn't one to change his opinions that easily.)
A blonde eyebrow rose with boredom at Itachi's words.
"Akatsuki? It doesn't have anything to do with me." The blonde's voice was a smooth tenor.
"Go away, yeah. I'm trying to take in the art here."
Art? Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. Whether it was in genuine interest or apathetic amusement he did not know. The thought of a young brat playing with explosives made him doubt that he could perceive art.
"Why do I have to get stuck with the kid? He's definitely going to die young." Sasori grumbled in the gruff baritone of Hiruko, and he thought he could see the young boy cringe very slightly at the sound of his voice. Tch, brat.
Deidara's brows never lifted from the frown as Itachi and Kisame continued trying to convince him to join the Akatsuki. It seemed that the revolt of joining a group and being bound by its rules disgusted the blonde. Flighty and unpredictable were the first words that came to Sasori's mind, giving him the closest to a headache as possible for his puppet body.
"People hire me to blow things up, and I fulfil their requests with my sculptures. Hm!" The excitement starting to grow within the depths of the visible blue eye was apparent enough, the tension in the room increasing a few notches. Still, Sasori felt dread pulling his heart down into a sluggish marsh. Imagining the sight of exploding sculptures, of destroying art made the redhead want to slink down within Hiruko and sigh deeply.
"Sculptures?" Still, he couldn't help himself. There was that tinge of hope that perhaps the brat didn't really mean it. Or maybe it wasn't in the way he imagined. Who in the right mind explodes their creations?
The blonde's manic grin widened, pure insanity growing within his blue irises.
"Behold! This is the result of combining highly detailed line work and two-dimensional deformations! This is true art, hm!" Deidara's voice increased in intensity and volume with each word, the raw insanity behind his voice echoing off the wooden walls. Sasori winced at the sheer power behind the exclamation. (And of course, the words too.)
True art? There is no way-
"But that's not all! Though they start out as models, my art lives! My art breathes! My art explodes!"
Sasori's eye twitched as he sat within Hiruko. What the he-
"And in that short moment, it fulfils the vision of greatness that inspired me to shape it!"
Sasori's eye twitched faster. How is this greatne-
"That explosive instant is the only point which I consider to be true art!"
Sasori's eye wouldn't stop twitching now. Something bad had started growing deep within him the moment Deidara had started ranting about his art, and he had a feeling this is not going to end well.
"Because art is an explosion!"
It took all Sasori had not to lash out at the blonde with Hiruko's tail. The bad feeling growing within him grew to a peak, and the redhead could literally feel his almost non-existent patience pull taut. It was a good thing the blonde decided to stop there, if not Sasori might really have killed him.
He's young, he's ignorant, he knows nothing about art, he is not worth your rage. At least Sasori managed to calm himself down enough, so that when he replied all that was spoken in Hiruko's voice was-
"Damn, he's annoying." Sasori wasn't one to lose his composure easily, especially in the presence of others. It was something he took great pride in, and he wasn't going to let a young blonde brat change that.
"That's enough. I'll fight him." It seems that the blonde's mindless speech annoyed Itachi as well. From his few encounters with the Konoha ninja, Sasori knew that he wasn't one to initiate a fight that hastily.
The Konoha ninja that Orochimaru wanted. The Konoha ninja that the bastard betrayed the Akatsuki –and you- for. The Konoha ninja that was more significant than you-.
Sasori shifted his attention to the fight and focused on analysing Deidara's movements. After all, it was good to start getting to know his partner now, since the brat was most definitely going to be his new partner. His overinflated pride and pathetic excuse of art was no match for Itachi.
True enough, Itachi merely moved the slightest bit before coming to stand at the side. The three of them looked on with amusement as the blonde brat continued battling with the air and throwing his explosives (Sasori refused to call them sculptures, or worse art) around recklessly.
Kisame sniggered by his side, and Itachi merely looked on.
Foolish little brat with his head in the clouds. Nothing good was going to come out of this.
The next few minutes passed with white explosions –that was something unusual-, overconfident screams and shouts, Kisame's sniggers and Itachi's almost inaudible tsks. Finally, Itachi breathed a sigh of relief, and said as calmly as he could,
"You should look at yourself first."
The young brat, totally clueless, looked down to see his own clay caterpillar wrapped around his body. Blue eyes widened with shock and disbelief at his loss, his once overconfident voice lost in intangible sputters.
"Wait, what? Is this genjutsu? But I didn't even realise…"
Didn't anyone teach the brat not to underestimate his opponents before even knowing what their abilities are?
Sasori remained defiantly silent and Kisame took to the task of explaining how he was caught in Itachi's trap gleefully. The redhead cast a side glance at the stoic Uchiha, noting a faint expression of relief on his face.
Sasori watched on as Deidara turned to look at Itachi with hatred and disbelief laced with awe. Blue eyes widened as the consequences of his defeat finally registered in the post-genjutsu induced haze of his mind, and he let out a loud scream of frustration that sent the crows on the nearby trees cawing away.
So it seems that loudness, explosiveness, recklessness and foolishness were not all that made up the Iwa ninja. The stupid brat had to have a flair for the melodramatic, and he was stuck with it until Deidara died.
(He definitely wasn't going to die before the brat.)
...
A man who looked in his late twenties stood before him, slightly behind Orochimaru. Hair the shade of pale, washed out yellow was tied neatly back into a single ponytail reaching halfway down his back. His light blue eyes were sharp and calculative, and Sasori doubted him immediately.
"This is one of my spies from Konoha, Yamanaka Hiroshi." Orochimaru's lips were curved in a slight smile. Sasori thought he saw a sinister glint behind golden eyes, but he dismissed it as his partner's normal expression.
There was a small part of him that was calling for him to proceed with caution, but Orochimaru had been his partner for five years and was someone that he had grown to trust. The Yamanaka was a different matter though. All signs of expressions in his eyes hint at an ulterior motive.
"Why is he here?" Sasori said plainly, ashen brown eyes devoid of his feelings of distrust. He had a slight inkling that the Yamanaka was to be their guide for the next information gathering mission in Konoha, but something told him that there was more than that. Orochimaru was from Konoha and should know the village as well as this Yamanaka here. There was no need for a guide.
"Ah, he is to be your guide for the upcoming mission." Sasori's eyes narrowed at 'your', and Orochimaru's smirk widened. Sasori remained silent, prompting Orochimaru to go on.
"I have other matters to attend to, matters regarding my personal research on immortality," his voice softened to a mere hiss at the word immortality, and Sasori found that his attention drawn to the word.
"As we both know, Sasori, research matters for our immortality is very important, isn't it?" The redhead nodded slowly in agreement. Orochimaru had let him in on the various details of his plan to attain immortality, and it was one that required very intense research. Sasori personally did not see himself doing something of that scale, but it hardly mattered to him as he had already achieved his goal.
"So dear Hiroshi here-"
"Is he trustworthy?" The Yamanaka did not say anything, merely smirked in response. It made Sasori even more wary of him.
"Oh Sasori-kun, you and your lack of trust in people." Orochimaru chuckled. At Sasori's lack of response, Orochimaru continued. "He has worked for me for quite a while. You can put your trust in him."
It was only then that Yamanaka Hiroshi stepped forward, smirk dissolved into an amicable smile.
"Sasori-sama, I assure you of my loyalty towards Orochimaru-sama. While we probably didn't start off on a good note, I am sure we will work well together." His voice was smooth and confident, blue eyes remained relatively distanced. Sasori didn't trust him any more despite his partner's reassurance, but if he was Orochimaru's subordinate there was little to no chance that he was stronger than Sasori himself.
If Yamanaka were to do anything out of sorts, he would be on his guard.
It was a pity that while he was on his guard against Yamanaka Hiroshi, he did not proceed with the same amount of caution when it came to his partner.