A/N: This is the first time I've ever written a trial scene, please go easy on me. I know things are not necessarily accurate, and I made sure it wasn't because an accurate trial would be pretty boring IMO.

It was a cold, cloudy winter morning when a frenzy of reporters arrived in front of the Konoha City Courthouse in a chaotic, yet organized mass, their feathers ruffled when led to stand behind metal barricades, the barriers forming a path to the entrance.

Shikamaru buried his nose into his scarf, tucking his hands in his pockets. He wore an armband around his right arm with the Leaf Gazette's insignia on it, signifying that he was here on behalf of the newspaper. Well, not exactly—but nobody cared that he was only present in their social circles because of a few strings that Choji's uncle had pulled.

It's a media madhouse out here, Shikamaru thought wryly.

Squashed against him was his best friend. "Brr!" Choji shuddered, his wide shoulders trembling. He, too, wore the same armband as Shikamaru. "It's freezing out here." He was quite a tall boy, towering over most of the journalists and reporters here, and this allowed him to have a good view of who was arriving. "I can barely see anyone."

"Not surprising," Shikamaru replied, his voice muffled by his grey scarf. He tapped the armband. "We're just here to make sure nothing happens to our friends. Then we'll be going to the witness stand with everyone else." He spoke quietly, just loud enough for Choji to hear.

Things were already uncertain and uneasy as it was—the last thing Shikamaru wanted was for them to be jumped by too-eager reporters.

"Nephew!" A beefy hand clapped Choji's shoulder and the boy startled, only to smile when he saw who it was.

"Hey, oji-san."

His uncle's plump face, previous holding a jolly countenance, changed into one of worry and solemnness. "Listen, Choji, I know today's going to be rough. For you, Shika," he nodded at the Nara, "and the rest of your survivor group. But you're strong. All of you. You'll get through it. And that Sasori fellow will be okay, too. I doubt they'll execute him, what, with all the witnesses testifying on his behalf."

"Thanks, oji-san."

It would have been better not to bring up the stakes. Shikamaru sighed when Choji's mood plummeted. Akimichi Fatso, while well-meaning, wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to comforting others. He chalked it up to it being that the man hadn't experienced anything traumatic enough to truly empathize with his nephew—and to Shikamaru, to an extent. Oblivious and jolly, even on this dark day, Fatso said his greetings to others in the same business that he knew, crows feet appearing on the corners of his piggy, beady eyes as he smiled with all of his teeth.

It sickened Shikamaru to know that the media were only showing up exploit the trial and have a field day with writing their next story. After everything they'd been through—the deaths, the tears, the sheer magnitude of the losses they had faced—

Shikamaru didn't even realize he was gritting his teeth until Choji prodded his shoulder.

The chubby boy, having packed on some more fat these past days, smiled at him. "I'm okay, Shika." He shifted, and, at first, Shikamaru tensed, thinking that Choji was going in for a hug.

But he didn't, merely staring over the heads of others to try and spot their group. For a brief moment, the world around him stopped and cracked, and Shikamaru found himself yearning for the touch of his parents—of his mother, who, on her best days, let him off a chore or two; of his father, who'd always loved him from a distance.

Shikamaru shivered, rubbing his arms.

He swore it was from the cold.

But he entertained the thought, What would my dad have done in this situation?

He never got the answer from anyone, his train of thought breaking when a single voice rose over the crowd, shouting excitedly, "Here they come!"

Leading the way were men wearing the uniform of the military police, their expressions indifferent as they escorted a certain red-haired man down the path.

Sasori's face was just as impassive as his guards, even when the people around him shot him venomous glares, some vehemently hurling verbal abuse at him. It surprised Shikamaru that nobody heckled the puppeteer for comments or interviews.

It was as if he was so utterly loathed that not even the media vultures wanted to peck at his bones.

The thought chilled the Nara to the bone. A surge of anger—anger almost irrational—on Sasori's behalf followed, and the only thing stopping him from lashing out was Choji's steady presence beside him. He settled for aggressively pulling down his scarf, revealing his scowling mouth to the reporters on the opposite barricade. Of course, they paid little attention to him, but that didn't matter.

Scathing words assaulted Sasori, but he merely continued on his path to the courthouse with little reaction.

"There he is—"

"Akasuna no Sasori. A murderer who painted the sands red."

"He looks so small. So young. How... disgustingly misleading."

"I can't imagine what the families of his victims are going through right now."

"Look at his arm! He really is a monster...!"

"It looks like it's from one of those creatures outside the walls, the ones that Konoha are trying to kill now—!"

"Did he kill one of them and take its arm?!"

"Monster."

Fatso had warned them about how the media would attempt to demonize Sasori, to play up his image as a heartless serial killer as much as possible. Shikamaru thought that he'd been ready for it. He'd been wrong.

How can Sasori stand this? the Nara asked silently. He wasn't vain enough to care about every detail of his own reputation, but if he was in Sasori's shoes—facing a possible death sentence, separated from his lover, isolated from society for more than a week, then heckled and hated by strangers that he had never met before—he would have imploded by now.

The fact that Sasori was able to keep a straight face throughout it all, even when the abuse doubled upon the arrival of the general public, was enough for him to have Shikamaru's respect forever.

As Sasori passed Shikamaru, his eyes flicked to over to his direction to meet his stare. Seconds later, Shikamaru could only see the back of his head.

"Who's that guy next to him?" Choji asked no one in particular.

Shikamaru fixed his gaze on the fidgety, dark-haired man walking a little behind Sasori. With all the men surrounding the puppeteer, he'd almost not noticed the little suited man.

"Attorney," he theorized. "Definitely the attorney."

"Huh." Choji was unimpressed. "He doesn't look like he really knows what he's doing... He's looking around the place like it's his first time at a courthouse."

Yes, Shikamaru had noticed, too. It was extremely likely that Sasori's attorney had been appointed by the Three Councils. And if things were as bullshit as Shikamaru thought it smelled like, the nervous man probably wasn't a very good one. A small, yet significant move to lower the chances of a good outcome coming from his shitshow.

Then the witnesses came, and Choji and Shikamaru craned their necks.

"There!" Choji lifted his arm as a red-haired woman wearing an appropriately elegant green frock emerged from one of the many black vehicles parked on the street. She had alluring purple eyes and stood with a straight posture, turning her challenging stare over the gathered people defiantly. "It's Kushina-san!" She was holding the hands of both Naruto and Karin, both of whom looked embarrassed that she was doing so. Naruto was dressed in a formal suit that he kept tugging the collar of, and Karin a black dress. It was quite a funny sight, seeing as Naruto was just a tad taller than Kushina and Karin was shorter than both.

As the Uzumaki family walked down the aisle, Kushina turned to where Shikamaru and Choji were standing, flashing a grin at them. They couldn't help smile back at the woman's inherently pleasant demeanor. Naruto glared when Shikamaru couldn't suppress a snicker at the monkey suit he was wearing.

"Excuse me," one female reporter said hastily, whipping out a pad and pencil. "What is your relation to—"

Kushina halted, scowling frostily at the journalist. "Hey. Back off, y'hear?"

Just those words were enough to send the woman scampering back, trying to make herself invisible in the crowd of chattering reporters and civilians.

Shikamaru chuckled despite himself, and Naruto beamed up (or, rather, down) at his mother.

"That was pretty cool, kaa-san!"

Kushina let go of his hand to ruffle his hair. "I try, kiddo. Now let's haul ass before they break down the barriers."

Behind the Uzumakis, a flood of other people were getting out of the cars, all of them dressed formally for the grim occasion.

Immediately, the media leaned over the barricades, shouting all sorts of requests for interviews or comments. Shikamaru and Choji were pushed forward by the crowd, despite the latter being one of the biggest people around.

"Can you give us your opinion on today's trial?"

"Do you believe that Akasuna no Sasori deserves to be executed?"

"Did he ever try to hurt any of you?"

"You—you, with the bun-hair! What happened to your nose? Was it him who—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Shikamaru snapped, worming his way through the frenetic mass of bodies. "GET BACK FROM THEM!" His outburst, followed by Choji forcefully pushing back against them, allowed the witnesses and others involved to hurry along. Tenten gave him a single nod before continuing on her way, catching up to where Daichi and Hikari were holding either hand of their mother's.

He quickly did a head count, satisfied that pretty much everyone was now nearing the courthouse. But who wasn't here? Who was straggling—

Ah.

Shikamaru inwardly fretted as Deidara walked down the lane, facing the front without looking at anyone else. In her pressed white shirt and high-waisted green skirt, she looked completely poised from here, but the bags under her eyes and the barely visible limp told a very different story.

It seemed that the media had picked up on that little detail, too.

No matter how she presented herself, her own body would always betray her. But the body was a reflection of the mind, thought Shikamaru; she had to be a mess.

"Miss! Miss! Over here!"

"Are you Akasuna no Sasori's rumored lover?"

"What is your true relation to him?"

"What kind of outcome are you expecting today, miss?"

As she was assaulted with questions, Deidara's expression twitched, her cool, collected facade slowly cracking to reveal the ugly scars.

Unfortunately, Shikamaru and Choji were too far away to protect her from the barrage. He cursed himself and Deidara's own lateness, fighting his way through the crowd to try and get to her before something bad happened.

"No comment," Deidara ground out, continuing her pace. Her prosthetic had significantly slowed her walking pace, and one particularly ruthless reporter managed blurt out one of the most stupid things that Shikamaru had ever had the displeasure of hearing.

"That scar beneath your face—I can see it just a little behind your hair—did he give it to you?"

Deidara whipped around lightning fast, her face contorting into a furious glare. "No. Comment," she seethed, her fingers reaching for clay pouches that weren't there.

"But—"

Shikamaru didn't have to save her after all.

"Ignore them, Deidara," a velvety voice sounded next to her ear, and an arm looped around hers. "Give them nothing. Watching them squirm in frustration is satisfying, no?"

Kagami? Deidara quirked an eyebrow at the Uchiha woman's arrival. This was the first time Kagami had appeared since she'd woken up, and she wasn't used to seeing the woman without a mask. Still, she offered a predatory smile to match Kagami's. "It is, yeah." Kagami's hawk-like gaze met her own, and an understanding passed between them.

Arm-in-arm, the two women went past the media hyenas without even batting an eyelash, their dresses—navy and green—flowing gently as they walked.

"It's time for us to join them," Shikamaru told Choji once the two women had disappeared into the building. "Everyone's accounted for." The two removed their armbands, Fatso leading them out of the crowd and directing them to a path to a side entrance.

The moment she saw Sasori's person seated at the front of the courtroom, her stomach lurched, a wave of nausea hitting her. I shouldn't have eaten such a big breakfast. Not when my stomach is still so small. Swallowing, Deidara pushed it down, suddenly aware of how her heart was pounding beneath her chest.

It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time she'd seen him. She wanted to talk to him, hold him, protect him from the accusing stares, the oppressing atmosphere, and the people who would not hesitate to sentence him to death if things went their way. But the only thing she could do was watch him from the witness gallery, which was positioned diagonally to face the back of the courtroom. It gave her a good view of his face, but she could not be satisfied.

Not when the last few days—the last few weeks; the last few months—had been absolute hell.

"I love you."

Her heart twisted painfully.

The urge to scream in frustration, to explode this entire city and erase the smug faces of the council members—it was there, but she quashed it as best as she could. The last thing everyone needed was more death. More blood spilled.

"Deidara."

An aged hand rested upon hers. Deidara tore her gaze away from Sasori's seemingly porcelain features to see Chiyo. The woman was seated on her left; Kagami (and wasn't she beautiful without that silly purple mask?) was on her right.

"Chiyo-baa..."

"Don't let them get to you," Chiyo told her, her eyes dark. "They want you to snap." She breathed out a sigh of frustration. "By now, the entire city knows about you—or, at least, think they do. Do not fulfill their expectations."

Deidara squeezed Chiyo's hand. "What do they say about me, hm?"

Chiyo snorted. "All sorts of ridiculous things. How he seduced you in Akatsuki, how you're nothing but a naive, innocent, abused little girl. And that's only a small part of it. Others think that you're his partner in crime who only got away with it because of your gender, or his mistress. Some even suspect that you're with a child and that it should be terminated as soon as possible."

"Really, now?" Deidara made a disgusted sound at how far-fetched some of those sounded. "Tch. They should just shut up, hm. They don't know the half of it." She gave Chiyo a look. "My public image... it won't affect my testimony, will it?"

"That is hard to say, my dear." Chiyo shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, reputation can mean everything, but so long as you deliver your statements in a calm, concise manner, it should be fine. Don't let your emotions overwhelm you. I know you're angry, Deidara," she added pointedly when the blonde opened her mouth to protest, "I am, too. There is no shame in admitting it. But those vultures will find anything to fault you on, so don't let them do that. Can you do that? If you can't, you might as well recant your testimony."

Deidara exhaled. "No, I can."

Chiyo smiled wearily. "Have faith, Deidara-shonen."

As the court filled up, Deidara tried her best to relax. They say justice is blind, don't they? She observed the hateful gazes of those around her, all of their loathing directed at the red-haired man seated in front of the Hokage's podium at the front of the room, his hands bound together with chakra-suppressing cuffs, one manacle larger than the other. He wore a red jumpsuit, Konoha's prison garb for extremely dangerous criminals. It was difficult not to let her faith in the justice system plummet. This entire thing had been a sham since the beginning, wired to work specifically against Sasori.

Someone powerful wanted him dead.

Deidara's gaze met with one of the Konoha Council members before she turned away.

The Three Councils had their own galleries. By far, the largest council was the Civilian Council assembled on the right hand side of the courtroom, diagonally facing the Hokage's podium in a reflection of the witness gallery. Deidara could see Haruno Mebuki sitting in the front row of the Civilian Council, her face completely neutral.

Justice is blind? Yeah right. They don't want him to win. They've spent the last week making him into a monster. All the odds are stacked up against him, but...

The members of the Hokage's Council took their seats in the gallery closest to where the Hokage would be seated very soon. It was a small council, made up of only three members, including the Fifth Hokage herself—Jiraiya of the Sannin and...

Deidara raised an eyebrow at the man sitting on the further right of the podium. He was wearing a cowl that covered most of his face; she could only make out his glowing green eyes. Black sclera? Weird.

"His name is Kakuzu."

She turned to look at Kagami. "What?"

"That's what you wondering, wasn't it? 'Who's that guy'?" Kagami smiled, the gesture a little sad. "It's written all over your face."

"Is it really?" Almost self-consciously, she lifted her fingers to her lips. "Damn."

"Try and make yourself a blank canvas when you go up," the Uchiha woman advised. "Everybody will be watching."

Deidara nodded absently. A blank canvas, huh? Somehow... I don't think it'll be that difficult. The old Deidara would have probably sworn and loudly declared that there should be nothing to hide. But the old Deidara—she had had art, her loved ones, and special bonds; things that had made her life vivid and colorful. Now she had none of that—her art was ruined forever; she could hardly see in one eye and move her fingers properly, let alone mold her clay into expressive shapes—she'd lost more than she would have ever thought in her short lifetime of nineteen, almost twenty years. Izumi, Shisui, Obito—

She swallowed a growing lump in her throat.

And now, if the general public got their way, Sasori would be gone, too.

Right now... it was as if she were a blank canvas, all the lines and colors washed from the page. Nothing but remnants of hues in the frayed corners where Rin, Itachi, Daichi, and all the precious people she had left were tucked away. Blackened spaces where burn marks and scars adorned her body.

"Where is she?" someone sitting behind Deidara—Sakura?—muttered. "Shishou..."

But Sakura need not have worried. Not even a second later, the Hokage made her entrance, escorted by her trusted guard. Tsunade—Lady Tsunade, Deidara corrected herself—was wearing the ever symbolic Hokage's hat and robes, a far cry from the hassled Head of Hospital Deidara had been first introduced to; her presence immediately turned the loud talking into hushed whispers. Without even sparing her citizens a glance, the woman sat down at the podium.

The courtroom doors closed with a resounding bang, shutting out reporters who hadn't gotten inside in time.

"Tsunade," Kakuzu said in lieu of greeting. "You missed your cue."

"Hime," said Jiraiya, grinning. "Exciting case we have today, don't we?"

"Hmph." The Hokage steepled her fingers. "We'll see, Jiraiya."

The final council, the Konoha Council, had their gallery wedged between the Civilian Council and the Hokage's Council. It was made up of three members as well, two old men and an equally aged woman. They seemed to be displeased at Tsunade's slight tardiness.

Probably can't wait to sink their claws into Danna, Deidara thought sardonically, watching the old woman's fingers tap the table impatiently. Out of all the Councils, she had the least trust in the Konoha Council. Something about them... just didn't sit well with her.

"All rise. The Court of Konoha is now in session, the Honorable Lady Tsunade presiding," the court officer standing beside the Hokage's podium droned. He looked annoyed at something, his eye twitching as he quickly glanced up at the Hokage, as if to make sure she was actually there.

"Normally, the Hokage arrives with notice after he says that," Kagami said quietly. Gleefully.

The first sign that this was going to be a circus.

Deidara felt exhausted already, and it hardly begun.

"Case number 4097: Akasuna no Sasori vs. The People," the Hokage began. "The purpose of these proceedings will be to determine the most appropriate action taken against Akasuna no Sasori for his crimes against humanity, specifically the violent assassination of diplomat Agawa Arashi his ten-man ANBU guard. I would like to remind the Three Councils that although the final verdict rests with me, you are all responsible for Akasuna no Sasori's fate. You are to view all provided evidence and testimonies impartially and make your decisions based upon the facts. Remember that this is very much included as a matter of life or death, so treat it as such."

Despite the Hokage's firm, no-nonsense tone, people in the public gallery still sneered hatefully at the back of Sasori's head—and, to some extent, his attorney's.

Kushina, seated among the general public, glared at the people closest to her, cowing them into a fearful silence.

If Tsunade was aware of this, she easily ignored it, fixing her stare on Sasori. "Akasuna no Sasori. The following charges have been substantiated by evidence and judicially approved: eleven accounts of murder, eleven accounts of torture, and two accounts of unlawful harmful force."

It took all of Deidara's willpower not to stand up and scream bullshit. Just last week, Sasori's known crimes against Konoha tallied to only one man. Now it was thirteen?

"Calm yourself," Chiyo muttered without looking at her. "The warriors in this room can feel your fury. Keep at it and the civilians will, too. It will unsettle them."

The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Slightly.

"Charges are distinguished as follows: the murders of Agawa Arashi, Chinen Tomoko, Edogawa Shinji, Enoshima Koushi, Fujimoto Saiki..."

It was here that Sasori finally reacted, his head jerking as he abruptly glanced skyward at Tsunade's imposing figure instead of staring blankly at the middle section of the podium. It him then—the dark, empty sensation swirling in his chest as the names of his Konoha victims were listed; the contemptuous gazes of the all the people who had come to see him condemned to either life imprisonment or death, most hoping for the latter.

It had seemed like so long ago. Like another part of his life which he had left behind an eternity back. Until very recently, there wasn't a day that had gone by without him thinking of the atrocities he had committed in the name of his Emperor—all of which had just been numbers in the most detached way possible. Statistics. A quota fulfilled or a name crossed off the list.

"... Tamura Ryuunosuke, and the assault of two Konoha concubines, Nishi Noriko and Obata Kazue."

Sasori had the vaguest memories of their faces. They'd been pretty—it'd been part of the reason why he had spared them. And they hadn't fought to protect their master like the ANBU guard had, so he'd left them alone. He remembered considering turning them into human puppets to preserve their pretty faces, but he'd never turned to that path in the end. Perhaps, in another world, he might have.

The Three Councils watched him intently, a certain member of the Konoha Council especially. What was that look on his face? she wondered. A monster like him couldn't possibly feel guilty about this. So... sad. Remorseful. The woman gripped the table. It's an act, isn't it? Self-pity, maybe? She lifted her chin to eyeball Deidara, who was sitting in the opposite witness gallery. Koharu Utatane smiled a little to herself. After this was over, she was certain that that woman would never see her lover again. Danzo gave her a strange look that she ignored. She knew that he fully supported her anyway—there was no point in questioning his loyalty at this point. All she wanted was just to see Sasori's head on a platter. His death means that you will lose the last remaining family member you have as well... Chiyo.

A heavy hush fell over the courtroom when the charges and their distinguished counterparts had been read. Tsunade ploughed on, "Akasuna no Sasori. You have been made aware of the charges against you. What have you got to say about them? Do you deny them?" She narrowed her eyes when he didn't answer. "Speak! Silence is not within your rights, Akasuna no Sasori. You will speak, or the court will hold you in contempt."

Sasori stirred in his seat, his chains clinking quietly. His so-called attorney was practically shaking in his seat, almost reduced to tears by Tsunade's commanding, unforgiving tone. Pathetic. "I deny nothing, Your Honor."

Deidara had known this was coming. It didn't make the sinking feeling she'd had since the sun rose over the hills feel any less heavy. She'd already accepted that this would happen; their only chance now was in the sentencing hearing.

Tsunade leaned back in her seat, nodding slowly. "Very well. Seeing as the Accused has denied none of his charges, he is hereby declared guilty of all of them." Her gaze darkened and she inched forward again, seeming to glare at all of them in the room, as if they, too, were guilty of heinous crimes. Many squirmed uncomfortably underneath her glower. "From this moment on, the Accused will be referred to as the Convicted. As the Honorable Hokage, I declare this trial resolved."

There were loud murmurs at that, journalists scribbling away on their notepads, which seemed to have an unlimited supply of paper, or scrolls for the more old-fashioned ones. The only anomaly was Akimichi Fatso, who had his tongue sticking out from between his lips and a pencil tucked behind his ear as he tapped away on a shiny typewriter that sat on his wide lap.

"Now," said Tsunade, and the Three Councils suddenly seemed to grow more menacing, "the sentencing hearing may begin."

A/N: Like I said, my first ever trial scene and I'm splitting it into two parts. I took inspiration from two authors: SwanofWar and SnowHawk7, so you may find similarities between this scene and some of theirs.

Also... have my eyes deceived me, or have we hit 200k words on FF?