Art is Murder
(#34 Puppeteer)
Summary: She'd never seen anything like it. And she couldn't explain why it moved her as much as it did.
Characters: Tenten and Kankurou
Word Count: 850
His middle finger dipped ever-so-slightly and pointer finger raised somewhat. The wooden thing launched forward at the enemy. Tenten watched, drunkenly entranced, as it attacked, pulling weapons from nowhere coated with more poison than she'd ever laid eyes on. One by one, the enemy dropped to the floor. The greenery mess blurred with blue chakra strings, dark crimson blood, and heavy screams. Everything seemed magical…Well, magical in a perverse sort of way.
As the last one fell to the ground, his cry dying in his mouth, Tenten had to work hard to stifle the overpowering urge bubbling within her to clap.
The puppeteer wheeled on her. "What were you dong?" he hissed furiously.
"I…" Tenten struggled to respond, but couldn't quite find the voice to speak. Her heart was pounding and her breath seemed caught in her throat. There was definitely something perversely wrong with her.
In obvious irritation, the puppeteer turned his back to her and went about returning the puppets back inside his summoning scrolls.
He had a right to be angry, she knew. He'd had to handle the enemy all on his own just because all she could do was stand there and gawk as he wielded his puppets. "I'm sorry." Tenten uttered quickly and quietly.
Sorry was not a word she was fond of using, but knew when she had to use it.
He turned his head to stare at her coldly.
Although, even though she rarely used it, some people still could not be placated with the word. "I just…" Tenten bit her lip, "This is gonna sound stupid, but I've never seen anything like that. It was artistic."
He scoffed. "That wasn't artistic. That was just murder."
He was right, she supposed; it was nothing but the usual everyday murder. Still…She looked wistfully at the puppets, almost wishing they would come back to life.
Just then he laughed. A low deep laugh that seemed to begin from deep inside his gut. "You're serious."
Tenten blushed. "Oh, forget it." She snapped, thoroughly annoyed. "I don't know why I opened my big mouth anyway."
As Kankurou of the sand sealed away his last puppet, he seemed to contemplate her seriously. His dark eyes appeared to look right at her. Not at her body or at her face, but right at her very core. It was more than a little unsettling. She surmised it would've been more unsettling if he looked like he had a few minutes ago, but now his customary hood had fallen and his purple paint was smeared, mixed with blood spatter and dirt. There was definitely no trace of the elegant puppet wielder she'd been previously entranced by.
"If you like, when we get back to Suna, I'll show you real art." He said calmly, almost as if in passing.
"You shouldn't invite me to things you will later regret. I have a habit of taking up invitations offered only for courtesy's sake." She informed him matter-of-factly. She'd had way too many experiences where she seemingly showed up unwanted. Saying things to be nice was an art that eluded her. She couldn't and wouldn't do it, nor could she figure out when it was being used by others. A flaw in her social dynamics, she figured.
He chuckled again – lighter this time. "In my family, we never do anything to be nice. Everything we say is exactly what we mean. It's too frustrating to be polite with people you don't care for. It's just not worth it. Hell, it's just to frustrating to even be polite to people you do care for."
Tenten smiled. Oh, she was liking him better already. "Alright."
xXxXx
His definition of art proved interesting enough.
His view on art proved to be a puppet show itself. Sans murder and blood.
The puppeteers moved their life-size dolls with great skill, while the puppeteers themselves blended into the background. The puppets looked almost human and the story was certainly enticing. She found herself thoroughly enraptured by the bunraku theatre.(1)
"Well?" Kankurou asked her when it was over.
Tenten drew her hands up behind her head and stared up at the starry night sky. The frost in the air bit at her cheeks sending shivers through her body. "Well," she mused, "it was really interesting, very cool, the puppets well built, the story expertly portrayed, the puppet movements fluid…It was definitely art."
He smiled at her in obvious skepticism, "But?"
She remembered the way Karasu, Kuroari, and Sanshōuo (2) moved. The way his fingers seemed to barely move, but really moved quite a lot. The way the enemies fell and the swirl of colors that fell across the landscape.
The blood.
The death.
The screams.
The horror.
"But," she continued, "It's got nothing on your act." She grinned at the puppeteer.
"You're nuts." He laughed. "Completely insane."
"Oh, yeah. Definitely." She conceded.
A/N:It came out a little peculiar I think, but all in all, I find I rather like this one. The title of this one keeps reminding me of Deidara which really makes me want to change the title. I'm not even sure I rather like the title...
(1) If my theater teacher is to be believed, bunraku theatre is a Japanese form of theatre that uses life-size puppets.
(2) Karasu "The Crow" His first puppet
Kuroari "Black Ant" His second puppet, used to kill Sakon and Udon during the Sasuke retrieval arc
And if wikipedia is to be believed, Sanshōuo is "Salamander". His third puppet which he pulls out during his fight with Sasori.
