"Tsunade-sama—can we have a word?"

"Tsunade-sama, why did you decide to spare Akasuna no Sasori?!"

"What are the reasons behind your decision—"

"What does this mean for Akasuna no Sasori? A chance to be redeemed? Reborn, even?"

Just as Tsunade was about to snap at them with the fury of a dragon stirred from its slumber, the last question made her pause, her eyes narrowed into slits as cameras flashed around her. Gruffly, she tugged the person—a male reporter in his twenties—to the side, saying, "Say that again."

He gulped, even though he was surrounded by people. "I-I asked you, Tsunade-sama, what does Akasuna no Sasori's sentence mean for him? Is it a chance to be redeemed and reborn?"

"Hmm..." Tsunade let go of his collar, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "Very well, I'll answer this one question for today." She took a moment to collect herself. The shitshow that had been Sasori's trial and sentencing hearing had drained a lot of energy out of her, and the snapping cameras and cacophony of voices weren't helping much. I seriously need a drink. Jiraiya still owes me one from the time I caught him spying in the women's baths. Again. Outwardly, she maintained a cool mask, musing, "Rebirth, huh? Yeah, I like the sound of that. It's obvious he's not the same man as he was before. He's changed." She started to walk off, but the man kept pace with her, so she added, "Sometimes people shouldn't get what they deserve." She said it very firmly, leaving no room for the reporter to argue or pester her for anymore questions. She wasn't entirely sure what compelled her to add the last bit—out on the frontlines, he was as good as dead, anyway.

The reporter stammered out, "T-Thank you, Tsunade-sama! The readers will..."

Tsunade stalked off, not particularly caring what Konoha's gossipy citizens would have like to see. Mostly hidden from view, her loyal guard followed her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Genma hastily apologize to a civilian for bumping into him before catching up to maintain formation. Where is that Deidara?

How troublesome it was that she had been held up by the press. The witnesses had left almost immediately to avoid being questioned relentlessly by those media hounds, Deidara among them.

I wonder how she's doing? Perhaps she cathartic. A pang of regret speared her heart for a second before she brushed it aside. No. She had made the right decision, combining the judgement of all of her councils to make a final verdict. Conscription had always been an alternative to imprisonment in Konoha's justice system, and being sent out to fight in the frontlines of a war was practically suicide. There. All three of her councils satisfied.

But from the daggers Koharu had been glaring at her earlier, she knew the collective satisfaction of the Three Councils was something that only existed in theory.

Finally, she found Deidara.

"Oi!" Tsunade marched up to the girl. "Deidara-san, you should probably hear this from my mouth before anyone else's. The gossip mill tends to get a lot of things wrong."

Deidara looked at her with a guarded expression. Truly, Tsunade couldn't fault the girl. "What is it, hm?" she said in the end, sounding both weary and wary.

When was the last time she slept? Tsunade briefly wondered before shaking the thought away. "About your partner, Sasori. He'll be moved to the detainment centre. Isolation ward. But they will allow two visitors before he departs." Then the Hokage spun on her heel, lifting up an arm in farewell. "Just thought you might want to know."

"... Thank you, Tsunade-sama," she heard Deidara mutter before she strolled out of earshot, the bitterness in the younger woman's voice evident. It made Tsunade crave that drink even more.

When she caught up Jiraiya and Kakuzu in the Hokage Tower, the first thing the latter said upon seeing her face was, "Jiraiya's paying."

The white-haired man snorted derisively. "At least you're sounding like your old self. You've been acting weird all day."

Tsunade groaned as she flopped onto the chair in their council's common room. "No talking. Just—sake. Now."

"Oh, no bar then?" Kakuzu got comfortable, too. "Even better. I hate those places."

"I'll get it for you, hime," Jiraiya offered, standing. "And you," he added to Kakuzu, "I'm guessing you got a new payout today? I can't think of any other reason for you to act like the cat that just swallowed the canary."

"Astute as ever, Jiraiya," was Kakuzu's clipped response.

Tsunade eyed him from across the table. "I couldn't picture you going with Jiraiya's idea of imprisonment. Figured you'd be too much of a hardass... What—did the old toad bribe you or something?"

Kakuzu met her stare. "Don't be ridiculous. Like I would even bother taking money from the likes of him. Who knows where it's been..."

Jiraiya returned moments later with four bottles of sake.

Tsunade instantly pulled three out of four bottles toward her, eyeing the two males opposite her. "Drink up boys," she said mockingly, gesturing to the single bottle she had left for them. "Make sure you get to your houses before sunrise."

Kakuzu rolled his eyes while Jiraiya merely laughed, popping the bottle open.

"Deidara!"

Shoulders stiff, Deidara halted for the second time that day at the sound her name. She let Rin catch up to her, sagging slightly when the brown-haired woman's hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing.

"You left so fast," Rin's voice lowered into a sympathetic murmur. She breathed out a sigh, entwining her fingers with Deidara's and walking them both to the refugee centre. "I'm sorry, Deidara."

"I can't believe it," Deidara said hollowly, staring at the winding road ahead of them. Shaking her head, to turned to face Rin. "Where are the kids?" she asked, almost desperately. Tomorrow, he'd be going off to war.

It all came back to war, didn't it? She wanted to scream at the sky, the only thing stopping her from doing so Rin's firm grip.

"With Kakashi," Rin replied gently, unaware of the way Deidara's insides were folding up. Her eyes softened. Then, abruptly, she pulled Deidara into a hug that almost crushed her bones. "I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in her brown eyes.

They stayed there like that for a while, Deidara standing in silence while Rin tried to ease her sorrow. But the wounds cut deep, and the blood was still running, staining the canvas.

"I..." Deidara swallowed, squirming from Rin's grasp. She pulled back from her friend, getting a good look of her face. The tiredness, the underlying grief—was it a reflection of her own? "I have to go."

"What?" Rin blinked, confused. "Where are you going?"

Deidara backpedaled as she answered, "To Sasori!" The detainment centre, the isolation ward. She had to see him again. She broke into an awkward run, the organic part of her left leg aching with a vengenace as she did. But wait—

She skidded to a stop.

Where was the detainment centre?

"You seem lost, Deidara-san."

Who...? She turned to see a very fat man strolling toward her, his hands in his pants pockets. He had a kind, fatherly face, his expression one of curiosity. "You are...?"

"Ah! Where are my manners? You may call me Fatso."

Deidara deadpanned at him. Was he kidding? She wasn't in the mood for any jokes. 'Fatso' didn't seem to notice her irritation, talking even as she glared daggers at him.

"I was at the trial. I'm a reporter, you see, for the Leaf Gazette." He fished his card out of his pocket, beaming at her. Fatso reached for her hand, intending to tuck the card in her palm.

But she flinched away, her glare growing even more hateful. "What do you think you're doing, hm?" This guy... did he just want to interview me?! The idea of that sent an unfathomable anger thrumming through veins.

At last, Fatso seemed to understand her. "Ah..." He put the card back into his shirt pocket, raising his arms up in surrender. "I'm sorry. That was too forward of me—I tend to do that to any new people I meet. I have no intentions of interviewing you, Deidara-san. You just..." She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Seemed so lost."

Lost? Her face slackened. Well, yes, she supposed she was lost, considering that she truly had no idea where the detainment centre was. But she was close to Asuma's smithy; she could just go and ask him—

"Do you know where the detainment centre is?" she blurted out.

"Detainment centre?" Fatso stroked his second chin. "Depends which one you mean—there's the juvenile detainment centre, the one for petty criminals..."

"What about criminals who have bodies on their record, hm?" Deidara asked sardonically, her head starting to pound just from hearing his voice.

He caught on. "Ah! I see, I see... It's a bit further out from city central. Do you want me to take you there?" His face was one of genuine concern. "I'm Choji's uncle, by the way."

Oh. She could see the resemblance, though Choji wasn't nearly as fat as Fatso, especially after his time in the wilderness. "It's fine. Just give me the general direction, yeah."

He did, and she was on her way, giving a small wave goodbye before parting.

Fatso watched her go, sighing as he combed his slicked back hair with one large hand. There was something about Deidara—something about her that broke his heart. He couldn't quite place it, but...

His eyes lit up when he realized just what she reminded him of.

A bird with its wings clipped.

Swearing, Fatso ran after her, his huge belly bouncing up and down comically as he sprinted. "Wait, Deidara-san! Let me—" Her arm lashed out, but he caught it with surprising ease, aware of how frail her wrist seemed in his meaty hand. The Akimichi could not contain his surprise. Wasn't she supposed to be a taijutsu master? What had happened—

"Let go," she slurred, her eyes cloudy with pain. "Let go, you damn fatass!"

Ouch. "I'm trying to help you—" Fatso gasped when he saw blood dripping staining her green skirt, dripping into her shoe. "What the...?! You need a hospital, Deidara-san!" Without waiting a second longer, he lifted her skirt, though not too high as to preserve her modesty, searching for a wound. She'd mentioned losing her real leg in her interview, he remembered, staring at the metal leg. Just where did she lose it up to? She said something nasty that he didn't hear, pulling away from him and stumbling.

How long had she been fighting this injury?

"What are you doing?!"

Fatso fell backward with a thump, catching a glimpse of an outstretched fist as he fell. Shaken and dizzy, he got up to see Shikamaru standing protectively in front of her, panting.

"Shikamaru-shonen!" exclaimed Fatso, getting up. When Shikamaru moved threatening toward him, he raised his hands up. "You have the wrong idea—"

"Leave it, Shikamaru," Deidara said sharply. "Just leave it—both of you are getting in my way—ugh!" She winced as she jostled the tender flesh of her left leg, more blood spilling down the side of her metal limb.

Shikamaru frowned. "Deidara... You haven't been taking care of it, have you?"

She didn't answer.

Sighing, Shikamaru pinched the bridge of his nose. "What a drag. And I supposed Fatso-san stopped you from doing whatever crazy idea you have? Though he could have been less forward about it."

"My apologies, Deidara-san," Fatso said, ashamed. "I wasn't thinking. But you need to get that... that leg seen at once!"

"But Sasori—"

"Can wait," Shikamaru finished. "If you don't let us help you, I'm going to get Itachi. Seriously."

She glared at him through feverish haze. "Fine," she spat. "But not to the hospital—to Asuma's." The hospital will take too long.

Shikamaru conceded after sharing a glance with Fatso. "Fine. Fatso-san, you should go. The Leaf Gazette's bound to be a mess without you bossing them around."

Fatso straightened his tie. "Ahem, yes. Excellent idea, Shikamaru-shonen. But are you sure you can—?"

"Yes. Tell Choji I'll see him later."

Fatso disappeared down the path, and Shikamaru sighed, keeping Deidara steady by having her lean on him, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. He could feel the shame radiating off her in waves, her cheeks flushed from the cold as well as embarrassment. Embarrassment that she had to rely on some kid four years her junior because she'd been neglecting herself.

It scared him, he had to admit. Before all this, he hadn't known her very well. But she had always seemed so strong—unshakable. One of the pillars in their group, along with Itachi, Gai, Sasori, and Kakashi...

Now she could barely walk, her breathing ragged, her small frame shaking with each step.

Shikamaru had visited Asuma's only once on an errand for Fatso, but he still remembered the way. He knew that it was the bearded man who had fixed the prosthetic onto her leg, but he had his doubts. Surely, a hospital would be better...

He glanced at Deidara's bowed head. She was still coherent enough—and possibly strong enough; certainly stubborn enough—to be rid of him if she knew he changed course to the hospital.

So, with a small exasperated sigh, he decided that it was Asuma's or nothing.

"Shikamaru."

"... Hm?"

"Why are you helping me, hm?"

He pondered the question for a bit. Then, he said, "I guess it's probably because we're friends. Somehow."

She chuckled derisively. "Are we?"

"We could be," he countered. "And even if we weren't, it's the right thing to do."

A silence stretched between them for a while before she piped up again, sounding more solemn this time, which was impressive considering her leg was starting to bleed quite heavily now, making her woozy.

"Your father died, didn't he?"

Shikamaru stiffened. "Yeah. In the final battle."

She made a noise that he couldn't really place. "I suppose... grief is the price we pay for love, hm."

"It is, isn't it?" Shikamaru hummed, as if knives were stabbing his heart at the thought of his father smiling at him again. "He'll come back, you know."

"What?"

"Sasori. He's a supersoldier—or didn't you realize? With his skills, and his arm... It'll be hard for him to die, even out on the frontlines."

Asuma's workshop was right in front of them now. Shikamaru used his free shoulder to push the door open. A gust of wind from the outside sent papers flying, and a hassled Asuma cried out.

"I spent three hours organizing those!"

"Oh, good, you're here," Shikamaru talked over his complaining. "Thanks for not lingering at the courthouse, because that would have been troublesome."

"You damn brat," growled Asuma, pointing an accusing finger at Shikamaru. "You come in here once and think that you own the place—Deidara-san?" Swearing under his breath, Asuma helped Shikamaru hauled the woman over to an old, but clean bed. "Hitoshi's not here right now," Asuma said curtly. "He went out drinking with some others to try and prove himself, that idiot... Konohamaru's with his friends for a celebratory lunch... You!" He snapped a finger at Shikamaru. "You don't look like an utter moron. You'll be my assistant for today, here? Now," he glared at up Deidara, "care to explain why you've clearly been neglecting your leg?"

Deidara breathed out a sigh of frustration. "A lot of things. I swear, it won't happen again, yeah."

Asuma ran his hand through his coarse hair, frowning and walking backward to where the sink and soap were. "Right, the trial..." He turned his back to her to wash his hands. "I get it, kid. Love makes you do crazy things." He toweled his hands off. "But that is not an excuse to forget to take care of yourself. Don't do it again."

She crossed her arms petulantly. "Stop that. You sound like my aunt, hm. And like I said, it won't happen again." An awkward pause. "Sorry for the inconvenience," she added gruffly, turning her gaze downward at her blood-soaked skirt.

"What do you need me to do?" drawled Shikamaru from the background.

"You'll do what I damn well tell you to!" The Nara cringed when Asuma barked at him. "Ugh, sorry. It's been a rough day. I need a smoke. Then a drink. And then probably another smoke."

Shikamaru grimaced. "I know the feeling."

"Lie back," Asuma instructed, Deidara following with some discomfort. His hand glowed with chakra to numb the area. "This is probably going to be worse than last time."

"Ugh."

"You brought it on yourself, kid."

"I know. It's the part that I hate the most, hm."

If only Sasori could see her now, she mused. He'd be disgusted at her ineptness. Her mind had been so wrapped up on things in the past week that she had completely forgotten to tend to her leg as per Asuma's instructions. The nightmares hadn't helped either—tall, looming monsters, snapping jaws, bodies of her loved ones shredded into ribbons—

Asuma glanced up momentarily when she shivered.

There was an odd feeling as the prosthetic was removed entirely from her leg.

"I've been developing a new type of limb for a while now," Asuma said, his voice more muted than before. "It should be better for you."

"How much?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a heartless bastard. You can pay me back the price I'll mark it as when you get settled and have an income."

"... Thank you, Asuma-san," Deidara mumbled, a pang of guilt striking her heart.

Her new leg was of similar design to her bloodied old one. It was completely mechanical in nature, with miniature cogs and gears visible on certain parts of the leg.

"You should have gotten this treated at the hospital," Asuma remarked, observing the raw flesh that was now in his line of sight. Shikamaru was pointedly glancing away from them, Deidara's skirt hiked up far too high for his palate. "I can disinfect it the traditional non-chakra way and bandage it, but it would be easier and less painful for you if you just went to the hospital..."

"You can't heal flesh? I thought you had medical ninjutsu at your disposal, yeah."

"Very limited. The most advanced thing I can do is the numbing agent. If you want healers, then you know where to find them."

"Not here?" Shikamaru sniped for the sake of boredom more than anything else.

"Pass me the bandages and some alcohol and cotton buds," was all Asuma said in response, his eyebrow cocked in mild amusement. Kid was a snarky wisecrack, but he was still better than Hitoshi.

Shikamaru passed the items to him not even thirty seconds later.

"Not bad, Nara. Hitoshi's been with me for more than a week now and he still has trouble locating all my shit."

"I'm not Hitoshi, Asuma-san. I'm affronted that you would even compare me to the likes of him..." Now Shikamaru was pulling Asuma's leg for whatever reason, but the bearded man didn't really mind.

"It's an insult to his higher intelligence, hm," Deidara quipped from the bed, wincing slightly when she felt a foreign object dab at her torn flesh. She couldn't feel the pain, but she could very much imagine it. It would have felt just like the time Suigetsu and Juugo did the same. What happened to those two anyway? Nobody's told me anything about them. Did they even follow us to Konoha? If they had, they would probably be in similar situations to Neji. And if that was so, why hadn't anybody mentioned them? Did anyone outside of her and Itachi even know they existed?

"Good thing is that it won't need stitches. There were just a lot of cuts," Asuma informed her, "I'm going to wrap it up now. This is going to feel weird."

"Got it, yeah."

It did feel weird, and Deidara was glad for Asuma being considerate enough to give her a warning. It was over soon, and Deidara looked down to see that almost her entire thigh had been wrapped with layers of gauze.

"What I'm using won't require any surgery," Asuma said, adjusting the leg. Again, the sounds of clockwork and gears eased her mind and soul. "Hey, Shikamaru—can you guess how it works?"

"Suction technology." Shikamaru only had to glance at it once.

Asuma nodded while Deidara quirked an eyebrow. "Bingo. You really are a genius, aren't you? I should replace Hitoshi's dumb ass with yours."

The boy twitched. "No thanks. And don't say it like that."

The fitting was more uncomfortable than before, despite Asuma's claim of no surgery required, and Deidara actually let out a surprised gasp when the suction cup wrapped around the bandaged stump of her leg. The inside was... soft, giving the wearer more comfort than the previous design.

"Is this removable?" she asked.

"It is. All you have to do is..."

In the backdrop, Shikamaru leaned against a wooden post as Asuma went through the removal and cleaning procedure with Deidara, the blonde nodding every few seconds. He observed her quietly, eyes sharp. He was well aware that she would probably not appreciate him treating her like a bird with a broken wing, but Shikamaru couldn't help when an idea formulated in his mind. If Deidara wanted to get better, what she needed was stability. Right now, her life was practically being tossed around in a particularly cruel washing machine. What she needed first... is a house and a stable source of income. A job.

As Shikamaru's brain spewed out all sorts of options, Deidara stood up, eyes rounder than usual as she looked down at her metal foot, tapping it up and down.

"How do you like it?" inquired Asuma.

"It's better than the last one, yeah," she answered truthfully, a small smile appearing on her lips. She slipped her shoe on, astounded by the amount of control she had over the limb. Of course, it was thanks to the chakra pathways running through her system and the new limb, but still... "Thank you. Again, hm," she added awkwardly. Her skirt was still blood-stained, but that wasn't a problem. She didn't care, anyway—it wasn't like she could expect Asuma of all people to provide her with spare clothes.

She wouldn't forget his kindness. The stump of her leg sitting comfortably in the artificial socket, Deidara walked comfortably over to the door before pausing. "I'll pay you back, Asuma-san, as soon as I get the money, hm. And Shikamaru," she nodded once at the Nara's direction, "thanks."

"Good luck, kid," Asuma called after her.

Once Deidara was gone, Shikamaru straightened, heading for the door as well.

"Wait."

Shikamaru tossed Asuma a questioning glance. "What?" This is such a drag... What does he want now?

Grinning a little sheepishly, Asuma grabbed a dusty worker's apron hanging on a nearby post. "Could you help around a bit? I'll even pay you."

"What." It wasn't a question this time. "No thanks..."

Dammit! Well, it's not like I ever go there anyway... "I'll give you my membership to the Leaf Shogi Club!"

"... Deal."

It turned out that she had to take a taxi to the detainment centre, the building too far from her original location. She used the minimal stipend all refugees got for each week to pay for the ride, exiting the horse-pulled compartment without a single glance back. Vehicles were expensive things, and the public transport of the city still largely relied on animals labor to function.

The receptionist at the lobby glanced up from her notes. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, where's the isolation ward? Specifically the one where Akasuna no Sasori is being kept in." Deidara kept her voice even and polite, even when the receptionist's face twisted into one of obvious disgust.

"Another visitor?" the woman inquired frostily.

"Yeah." A cold wind seemed to blow around them.

"Hmph." With thinly veiled disdain and disapproval, the receptionist gave her the directions to his cell, and Deidara left her as soon as the woman reluctantly handed her a visitor's pass to hand around her neck, the color of the plastic card emergency-red.

When she got to the wing where Sasori was being kept, she was stopped by some guards for inspection.

"Seems legit," one guard said the other. "But you'll have to wait in the hall for a bit. We can't have two visitors at the same time—I'm sure the old lady will be out in a bit."

So Deidara sat, bouncing her leg up and down impatiently. Another visitor? An old lady? There could only be one person who matched those descriptions. So Chiyo-baa got here first. The old lady was certainly efficient with her time, wasn't she? Then again, she probably hadn't needed to stop by at Asuma's to get a replacement leg.

After what seemed like an age, the door in front of her opened, and Chiyo ambled out, her arms behind her back. The old woman's eyes widened a bit at the sight of her before she smiled. "He's waiting," she said vaguely. "Make use of the time you have with him—they won't let you stay longer than an hour."

Only an hour? She tried not to look too disappointed, lest she seem ungrateful, instead mustering up a smile for Chiyo. "Thank you, Chiyo-baa-sama. I will, hm." Before Chiyo left, Deidara couldn't help but blurt out, as she stared at the imposing metal door in front of her, "How could this happen?" Of course, she knew how, but...

Chiyo caught the underlying question. "I don't know. All I am certain of is that I can't stand this. But what can we do?" Her voice betrayed her weary heart, and Deidara felt the atmosphere plummet to an all-time low.

Yes, what could they do? Nothing would reverse the Hokage's decision, especially considering how much backlash she was sure to get from her citizens for letting him off considerably easy. If they pushed her, Tsunade might just revoke Sasori's punishment out of spite and replace it with a new, even worse one.

"I'm sorry, Deidara."

"... I'm sorry, too."

Deidara wasn't sure how long Chiyo had been gone for when she finally wrapped her hand around the door handle, the cold metal kissing the stitched-up lips of her hand. Then she pushed it down, and the door clicked open.

The room was unsurprisingly blank, with only white walls and a simple bed with a thin blanket and pillow decorating the interior. Sasori sat on the edge of the bed with his back facing her. He had changed into different clothes, a simple black shirt and pants that didn't denote any sort of allegiance. They looked old, she noticed. Hand-me-downs from a charity, she supposed.

Almost timidly, she called out to him, closing the door behind her, "Danna?"

What happened next was a blur to her. He turned around, her name on his lips, and she all but jumped onto the bed and hugged him from behind. He let her hold him, and they stayed there for a while, simply enjoying each other's silent company.

"Deidara." Sasori pushed her arms away, and they both lay down on the bed, sharing the pillow. Again, they stayed, the shallow space between their faces allowing them to regard one another.

He looked mostly the same as she had last seen him, possibly even physically healthier. His skin no longer had a sickly pallor to it, and his muscles were more filled out—the only indication that he had even gone through what he had experienced the past nearly two weeks was he tired countenance. Dark circles had formed around his eyes; he looked as if he hadn't slept properly for a long time.

"I missed you," Deidara murmured, touching her forehead to his and squeezing her eyes shut.

He closed his eyes, too. "It's been too long," he agreed before he scowled. "I was hoping that the first time I'd see you since the explosion wouldn't be in the courtroom." Unfortunately, not even he himself had known where Konoha had kept him before his trial—it had probably been somewhere underground.

"I love you, too, you know." His eyes snapped open at that, pupils dilating in brief surprise. Deidara blinked at him languidly, contentedly, almost. "I—I never got to say it back." Her voice became mock-accusing, trying to draw his attention away from the growing blush that was spreading over her cheeks. "You didn't let me, yeah."

Tranquil amusement rolled off him in waves. "You've said it now, haven't you, brat?" That was enough for him. Just... knowing that she felt the same way was enough. The bed shifted as he moved to lie flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah." A shadow of a smile graced her lips. "I think I could keep saying it forever, hm. 'I love you'." She entwined her fingers with his. "What happened—after I passed out?"

"I carried you back," Sasori started. "I had to take you out of camp to stem the bleeding, and Sakura took over from there. We traveled nonstop to Konoha that day, and made it the next day. I was arrested almost immediately outside the city gates, and a riot practically broke out. Masami-san took the brunt of it."

"Konohamaru told me," Deidara interjected. "About Masami-san. I almost regret punching her now."

That was news to him. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you really?"

"You didn't know?" She grinned genuinely for the first time in ages. "I guess it makes sense—it was the day that you almost got... turned..." she trailed off, her brow lowering. "I was terrified, hm. And angry. I knocked her tooth out."

No words of cliche concern or sympathy came from him. For that, she was grateful. She didn't want him to try and justify her actions—they'd been unacceptable—and she was glad that he did not try to condemn her either. His simple, pensive silence placated her immensely.

"What happened to the rest of them?" Sasori asked suddenly. "Our friends, comrades. I'm afraid I wasn't exactly in a position to find out," he added caustically, earning an equally scornful snort from Deidara.

"We all got settled into the refugee centre—well, most of us, hm. I've been told Shizune owns several properties here, and Sakura's family is in a similar situation. Konohamaru's living with his uncle, and Hitoshi actually managed to get an apprenticeship under him." Though he might be losing it to Shikamaru soon, if he hasn't careful. She talked idly about the situations of each individual member, only getting a little excited when she brought up Naruto's family situation, which was bizarre, to put it politely. The blond boy had a backstory worthy of a dramatic novel.

"Of course the Uzumaki brat discovered his estranged mother," Sasori remarked. "I think I'd honestly be disappointed if nothing life-changing happened to him upon his arrival to this shitty country."

"Hah! Just months ago, he was picking fights with Kisame." Deidara's chest rumbled in amusement. "You saw how he was yesterday—calm and... inspiring. Every bit the Fourth Hokage's son should be." She breathed out a small sigh. "But I don't want to talk about Naruto, hm. I'm so... tired." Tired was an understatement. She wanted right now nothing more than to nap beside her love, but she knew that she would roused from her slumber before she would get to fully enjoy it. And how could she savor her time with him anyway, if she were asleep? So she sufficed by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close, burying her face in his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat.

Knowing that she might not ever experience this again... it was killing her. She hated how powerless she felt—how powerless she truly was, despite everything. So what if she could make things explode? So what if she could take down men more than twice her side, even with her new handicap? In the end... it meant nothing.

"I love you," she muttered into the fabric of his shirt, as if it could save them from everything. And, in a way, it was an escape. Right now, she felt like tomorrow would never come. Deidara felt him move, and how solid he felt was a comfort. She wasn't dreaming anymore—this was real. "I love you so damn much, yeah." The back of her eyes burned with oncoming tears—tears of bitterness, resentment, and... a temporary satisfaction. They continued to burn even as he moved his mouth over hers. He was on top of her now, his hands wrapped around her wrists as he continued to kiss her, as they both lost themselves to euphoria, knowing that they would be parting tomorrow.

She was felt so small, underneath his larger frame. He hadn't noticed the sheer size different between them now—they were about the same height, but she was so... scrawny now. All that hell had taken a toll on her body, one that could only be reversed with care and time. Sasori pulled them up into a sitting position, and she made a satisfied sound, wrapping her legs around his waist, so that she was practically sitting on his lap. She was so light, he thought almost dizzily, unhealthily so. He wanted her to get better—he hoped that she would, even when he was gone.

"Deidara?" he uttered when her mouth finally left his.

"Hm?" Her eyes were half-lidded with contentedness. "Danna... can we...?"

He muttered his consent into her lips, one hand—the Zetsu one—undoing the ribbon that kept the top layer of her hair up, the other placed on her warm back.

Before the hour was up, they had given themselves to one another, tracing each other's scars and listening to the stories those battle wounds had to tell. The lashes on his back, the burn marks on her arms; the black stitches embedded in her arm and hand, the hollowness of his white Zetsu arm—a reflection of the trials they had faced and overcome.

Their allocated time together was burned into the back of their minds. They gave themselves just under a minute to get dressed again, and Deidara had just finished doing the top button of her shirt when knuckles rapped on the door.

"Your hour is up. Come out from there."

Gingerly, Deidara stood, patting down the front of her skirt. "I'll be out." She turned to Sasori, smiling sadly. "Danna? Don't die out there, yeah."

"I won't," he said solemnly. "I'll come back to you, Deidara."

"You'd better..." she trailed off, her back facing him as she wiped the first of her tears away. "I love you." She gasped lightly when she felt him hug her from behind, just like she had done to him when their hour had just been beginning. Deidara relaxed in his arms.

"Thank you."

"Hm?" She tilted her head upward, blinking at him curiously.

He kissed her chastely. "For loving me."

Then Sasori let her go, just moments before the guard knocked again.

She disappeared as quickly as she arrived, the door closing with a loud slam! and leaving the room feeling emptier than ever.

It was always darkest before dawn, and Sasori found that the phrase rang true as he was escorted through the city, a cloak bearing the symbol of ANBU forces wrapped around his body. His hood was over his head, blocking out the sights of citizens eyeing him warily from their apartments, houses, or front porches, as if they expected him to snap at any moment. They knew who he was—knew what he had done.

He lifted his chin, his view of the gates in the horizon momentarily blurred by the billowing white cloud that escaped from between his frigid lips. There was no snow on this wintry morning, but the chill remained in the air.

His four ANBU escorts—soon to be fellow comrades—did their jobs without even speaking a word to him, or to each other. He supposed that silence was something ingrained into Konoha's esteemed military. It was something that he wouldn't be complaining about, at any rate.

They approached the gate, Sasori's horse snorting and shaking its mane as Konoha began to awaken, people peering out from their windows to see what was happening outside.

Behind the hills, the sun began to rise, painting the sky pink and blue.

The people manning the gates opened it, the two metal barriers in the walls rolling upward at the same time. Beyond Sasori was a tunnel through the concrete walls of Konoha, a passage to the outside world.

He could only hoped that all the monsters had been purged by now.

At the thought of them, his boneless Zetsu arm twitched in anticipation.

Only when the gates had fully risen did they continue onward, slowly. It was then that Sasori became aware of a gathering, large presence behind them, their chakra levels spiking at different rates.

"Wait!"

Frantic, fast footfalls reached his ears and he turned to see all of his comrades from the wilderness—his friends and family—moving toward him, some of them panting hard. Deidara led the way, her fringe blowing in the wind, revealing flashes of her clouded left eye. She looked disheveled, wearing the clothes which she had been dressed in since yesterday, a cloak draped over her shoulders haphazardly to ward away the cold. Even as he felt the ANBU around him growing annoyed, Sasori didn't have his horse move forward, simply letting Deidara walk toward him with purpose, admiring the view behind her as he did so.

So many people.

All for him.

Itachi's solemn face was barely visible in the crowd, but Sasori spotted him anyway, the Uchiha giving him a knowing glance. He was carrying Izuna in his arms, the baby blearily glancing up at the sky and the people around him.

The ANBU tensed as Sasori slid off his horse, the chakra-suppressing manacles on his wrists more feeling more constricting than ever.

She didn't speak, merely embracing him tightly. He returned the gesture with equal force, his hand dipping into the inside of his cloak and fumbling around in his pocket for a moment. How could I have forgotten? Sasori fished out the device that Chiyo had given him during his last visit, a souvenir from his days as the Royal Assassin of Suna; he briefly wondered how she had gotten her hands on it.

It wasn't something he didn't need, but...

As Deidara reluctantly pulled away, Sasori brushed her hair to the side, lifting the eye-scope between them. She glanced at it curiously.

"For you," he said, gently fixing the eye-scope to the left side of her face. "Keep working on your art... Deidara." His lips curled into a smile as he observed the awed, shocked expression on her face, leaning forward slightly to kiss her.

"Of course," she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Of course I will, Danna."

"Good." Another kiss. "I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about who you truly are."

She hugged him again, squeezing his frame gratefully, unwilling to be without him for too long before he left Konoha—possibly for good.

"You'll come back, yeah?" You said you would.

Regretfully, Sasori tore himself from her, missing her warmth. "Always."

Seconds later, he was mounting his horse, snapping the reins to get it to move forward, his ANBU guard moving along with him.

As he reached the end of the tunnel, he turned back for the last time. Then he went on, on the path that led him toward the sunrise. Until next time, Deidara.

He had disappeared from view when Deidara felt a hand, knotted with age, land upon her shoulder. "Come," murmured Chiyo. "Let us go, Deidara." Deidara hesitated, staring at the gate in front of her one last time before letting Chiyo lead her away, surrounded by friends and family.

Slowly, the sun rose.

Kakuzu glanced upward as the bag of coins—gold coins—landed on the table in front of him. Seconds later, the bag had disappeared into his cloak.

"I'm curious, Uchiha..." Kakuzu stared intently at the man in front of him. "What exactly possessed you to bribe a member of the Council?" He spoke lowly, but clearly, so that nobody but he would ever hear. The men around them were all too drunk to be paying any attention to them anyway.

Itachi blinked slowly at Kakuzu, unaffected. "Because they deserve a chance to be happy."

"Hmph. Fool of you, but I can't exactly complain." Kakuzu's chair screeched against the wooden floor as he stood. "I hope I never see your face again, Uchiha, for both our sakes."

Itachi let him leave. He was about to leave as well when a woman that entered right after Kakuzu's exit made him freeze, her face morphing into Izumi's for a second. Then she disappeared into the crowd, and Itachi moved toward the door.

They deserve a chance to be happy.

His boots landing on the dirt, Itachi glanced up at the clouds, which threatened to rain.

Izumi...

"Hey." Itachi turned around at the sound of Sasuke's voice, a smile ghosting his lips. Sasuke frowned at that.

"You followed me," Itachi said simply. "I had a feeling..."

"I had the same feeling when you dropped off my nephew with Rin." Sasuke leaned against the side of the building. "You said you were going to get dango."

"Apparently, they don't serve dango at this establishment," replied Itachi, mildly. Sasuke unstuck himself from the wall to walk side by side with Itachi. "Come, otouto—let's go home."

A/N: Part IV was always going to be short—this chapter marks the end of Part IV. It took a while to get out, but it's here now. I probably won't be able to post another chapter for a while. School starts next week, and I have things to prepare for. Don't even get me started on when it ACTUALLY starts. I'll likely be busy very often. So this is the last update for this month, definitely, except for maybe an interlude.