Something filled Deidara with pure ecstasy.
It seemed that there was not much time left.
He was a ticking time bomb, ready to wreak havoc upon a kingdom of ruin and ashes.
The red-haired man stared down at Deidara, his hand lightly touching the boy's own. On the inside Deidara seethed; he wasn't prepared to fight this man, not to mention the crowd of innocents that surrounded them in the fountain square. It was a few degrees too hot for Deidara's taste as well, worsening the remnants of his fever.
"What's wrong? Never seen a suspicious hooded figure before?"
The humor did little to placate Deidara, but a reply never made it past his lips. With a stunned, simple look about him, he continued to stare up at the smirking man. He must have quite enjoyed hearing his own jape from the simper that delicately decorated his lips.
"Do you speak as well as you read?" he snapped, quickly retracting his hand.
Deidara's lips parted at last. "What is that supposed to imply, hm?"
"I just wanted to make sure I wasn't talking with an invalid," he spat back.
The anger radiated from his eyes, yet his face never lost its pale complexion. The way he looked rang peculiar in Deidara's mind; even in the most pleasant weather one would be subject to a reddened face back home, so it should have worked the same in a place as hot as Sundance. There was something very, very wrong with this man, though he supposed the fact that he could create fire from out of nowhere was reason enough to believe that.
"D-don't you have something better to do, hm?" Deidara said with a stutter.
The red-haired man looked around with a mockingly confused look on his face, then turned back to Deidara. "Oh no! I almost forgot, there was some artist I was supposed to meet right about now! It couldn't be you, though. I was informed he was of average intelligence, not a dimwitted gutter rat."
"Alright, I've had enough!" Deidara yelled, bolting up from his seat with his arms thrown in the air. "I have no time for your shit! Better company awaits me elsewhere, hmph!"
"Ohh, so he does speak the proper tongue," he said with a smirk. "Tell me, is this company you seek a professional assassin? Because I can do the work far more efficiently - and much, much cheaper."
Deidara pouted, and said, "He's My Prince, that's all. I'll find him eventually, hm."
"Astounding. In the meantime, you were talking about assassinating that man in the poster. That one?" he said, gesturing to the poster beyond them. "His name is Argento. He's one of the master merchants around the Northern Sands, and let me tell you right now that you will not be able to pull off killing him."
"Then I die trying!" Deidara said, taking a defiant stance.
"Then die trying with a few more years of experience under your belt, would you?" he said, his brown eyes filled with fire.
"Oh, I'll live to a hundred and beyond once I'm rid of you, you monster!" Deidara spat. He hadn't intended to get so heated, yet he found himself unable to refrain from unleashing his rage that had built up for over half a year.
Stunned, the red-haired man took a step backward. The look of puzzlement he wore lent the idea to Deidara that he didn't remember him, and who would have? By all rights, he should be dead. It wasn't per the norm that a boy would be set ablaze next to a prime kindling source, then emerge from the ashes like a phoenix being reborn.
The man recovered from his brief shock and gazed down at Deidara skeptically, then said, "I don't believe I've met you before. May I ask for your name?"
"You can. My name is Deidara. I want you to remember my name, hm!" Deidara said proudly, not fully realizing what a gift the man's ignorance was.
"Sasori. Charmed. Now come with me quietly, or I'll make you leave quietly," he said with a half-smile.
Deidara recoiled abruptly, his knuckles scraping across the fountain's edge. "No, I'm not coming with you! Go harass someone else, hmph!"
Sasori swiftly grabbed Deidara by his wrist, but he furrowed his brow when he took notice of the mouth on his left hand that gurgled frantically. Hesitantly, he poked the little pink tongue, which caused both the orifice and Deidara to quiver. Sasori examined both of his hands for a brief moment, occasionally shifting his gaze up to Deidara with a look of dubious curiosity.
"Born, or acquired?" Sasori asked with a low voice.
"Acquired. Now may I please go, hm?"
"That means you can't breed this then. A shame, really. I wonder why Orochimaru hasn't looked for a way to grab this for himself yet. Seems right up his alley," Sasori mused, not talking to anybody in particular.
"If you don't let me go, I'm gonna yell!" Deidara said in a panic, struggling to break free of his grip.
"You're not making a good case for yourself to be let go. In fact, you're only making yourself sound more desirable with every little protest," Sasori said, chuckling.
Deidara's breathing grew erratic, while little whines and moans of protest escaped his lips in lieu of words as Sasori's grip on him tightened. His hand mouths clamped at something to grab onto, but couldn't find a target. Lifeless eyes looked into his own; his blue orbs were full of life, hope, and little understanding of what true pain was like. The eyes that met his own, however, were cold, and had long given up any semblance of hope - they were eyes that had seen far too much to be so blind.
"Please, my uncle, he'll-"
"No, he won't," Sasori said, cutting him off.
"I didn't even say any-"
"I don't care, and he'll stop caring eventually too. Now come."
"Please!"
It was useless, though. Sasori had a resilience that was built up from years of practice with these sort of things, and Deidara was a meek, underfed boy from a secluded mountain. Onlookers probably would believe Sasori over Deidara if he chose to make a scene, with his well-kept hair and clean skin. Meanwhile, Deidara was already lightly-tanned from some time in the sun, his face, legs, and arms were smudged with dirt, and he had an unruly mane of hair that wildly blew about in the wind.
His panic quickly turned to a resigned dread of the inevitable as Deidara relaxed his body to let Sasori drag him off to wherever he intended to go. Sasori's face grew placid, and almost kind as he saw Deidara lower his head in defeat. He examined his new partner, noting that he was not armed in the least - not even a kunai was hidden among his garb.
Some exceptional kid we have right here Sasori thought to himself. His lips pursed as he mulled over what to do about the unarmed civilian he was in the process of kidnapping.
"I was informed you could fight," Sasori said quietly.
"Oh yeah, that. I can, but I didn't think to bring anything to protect myself on a walk," Deidara said with a heave of his shoulders.
"Naive," Sasori rolled his eyes. "What kind of shinobi waltzes around a town that specializes in prostitution and alcohol without even so much as a kunai to protect themselves?"
Deidara stuttered, his face hot with embarrassment. "I-I do have all that stuff! It's all in my room where I've been staying! If you insist on kidnapping me for my amazing, super unique, totally artistic powers then you'll need to take me back there to fetch my gear, hmph!"
Sasori smirked. "Oh, that's not a problem. We can always get you new gear once we're settled in."
"But-but- agh! My clay! Don't you hear me, hm? I need to get my clay from that room, The Mother take your worthless kunai!" Deidara said in a huff.
Other people had started to stare, causing Sasori to withdraw away from the crowd with Deidara in tow. The little one struggled further still, desperate to be released from Sasori's firm grasp of his wrist. The puzzled group of people began to disperse once Sasori had fully taken Deidara into an alley behind what appeared to be a tavern, where the redhead removed his cloak and wrapped it around the smaller boy.
"Ah, um, thank you. But why did you let me go just now, hm?" Deidara asked as he traced his fingers over the cloak.
"Because back here I can kill you if you get too rowdy, and no one will bother us," Sasori said almost tauntingly.
Deidara almost whined, but the look in Sasori's eyes told him enough. There was little chance of him escaping now, and even if he did try to call for Roshi he would likely be dead by the time he arrived. Or worse. Sometimes his older brother had said that to him, that he may be killed, or worse. Deidara didn't know what could be worse than being killed, but the days when he could have asked his brother what he had meant by that had come to pass.
If his brother had been killed, was what had become of Deidara worse? Was this doomed to be his fate? When he looked into the bored eyes of Sasori, he couldn't know for sure if he was overthinking things.
"Argento - that was his name, wasn't it?" Sasori said, snapping Deidara out of his train of thought.
Deidara nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to kill him for the money, but I guess I won't be getting that chance."
Sasori cocked his head. "When did I outright forbid you to try? I only suggested you train a little before so you stood a fighting chance. Without me, that is."
"Oh? And what could you possibly do to help me kill a 'Master Merchant', hm?" Deidara asked, his words dripping with sarcasm as his fingers made air quotes at the words "Master Merchant".
"Poison him without anyone being able to detect it - or trace it back to us. I'll even let you keep all the money too, since I'm quite comfortable myself," Sasori said with a smile. It seemed Deidara had found a subject that Sasori was quite interested in, judging from the way his lifeless eyes lit up when he spoke of it.
"You'd really do that for me?" Deidara asked, but then furiously shook his head. "No, Argento's palace will burn by my own art. No need for anyone else's help, hm."
"Art?" Sasori said, his voice rife with enthusiasm.
Deidara's heart beat faster still from his interest. "The clay I use can be molded into creatures, objects, anything. And once I have it near my target - boom! They burst into flames in an explosion that my little creatures cause! It's really quite beautiful once you see it for yourself."
Sasori scrunched his nose, withholding a remark of disgust. "I see. So you want to kill Argento by setting his manor on fire, including any slaves, whores, or other innocents that may be inside?"
"Oh!" Deidara paused, taken aback by the point Sasori had made. "I didn't even think about that. I'm sure we can lure Argento away from them, right, hm?"
Sasori pointed toward where the wanted poster was. "Argento has been in hiding, and he's always heavily guarded within his home. The other slavers in the area have started to push back his hold on Sundance, and it's finally gotten to the point where he fears for his life. There is no way you'll be able to wrangle him away from his guards."
"So what do you suggest I do, hm?" Deidara asked.
"Aside from coming quietly with me, right?" Sasori asked, to which Deidara nodded. "Very well. I suggest you take up my offer of help. I don't extend my services very often anymore, but being that my new partner is a greenhorn I suppose a little charity work is acceptable."
"New partner?" Deidara asked with widened eyes.
"Why else do you think I would keep trying to get you to come with me? Look, it's no offense meant to you, but if it weren't for your Kinjutsu I would have given up trying to grab you when you first resisted me. You're not worth the trouble otherwise."
Deidara fell silent, unsure of how to reply to that. It seemed he wasn't worth much, as all of the men he had met in this past year made the point of telling him so, save for Roshi and Han. Yet these men couldn't seem to find some other "worthless" boy to latch onto in his stead. When that thought ran through his mind, Deidara lowered his head to conceal his smirk.
"Deidara... That's your name, right? Look up, and tell me what you want to do," Sasori said, prompting Deidara to snap his head back up.
"I want to..." Deidara's voice trailed off. I want to go home was what he wanted to say, but "home" no longer existed. In its stead rested a pile of ashes and charred memories of a family that had shattered long ago. "Home" was wherever Roshi took him, and "home" was whatever he was allowed to have as a place to rest for the night.
The dusty streets of Sundance, however bright and lively they may be, were not where Deidara belonged. He was meant to be up high in the mountains, far away from the follies of the rest of the world. He yearned to walk in the rich evergreen and pinewood forests around the mountain valley with his brother again, but even his dreams would not give him such comfort. He longed for the vivid azure skies of midday, where his mother had pointed to the geese flying back home from their summer travels. His father would paint the fowls as they preened in gaggles around their home, and Deidara was comfortably in his mother's arms as his brother silently read a book that he had always promised to teach Deidara to read someday.
Yet all he saw was bright auburn and tawny browns and gold. There was nothing here he could latch onto in memory of his true home, but there was a slight chance to return one day. Perhaps Deidara would not return to Earth Country until he was twenty, fifty, or a hobbling eighty-year-old man. If his clay were here with him right now, he would have seen it fit to mount a bird right there in the alleyway and fly off into the skies forever. Let the Earth Mother decide his fate rather than some smug little redhead.
Deidara drew in a deep breath, and said, "I would like your assistance in the bounty hunt, hm."
Sasori seemed unamused. "When it's all said and done, you are to follow me back to my headquarters. No complaints, comments, or questions. Understood?"
Deidara grew pensive for a moment, then said, "Understood. And thank you, Mister Sasori."
"Please don't call me that, it makes me sound old," Sasori said with a groan.
"Um... Master Sasori... is that better, hm?" Deidara asked.
Sasori sighed. "Yeah, that'll do fine. Come on then, kiddo, let's go murder this man and collect the bounty so we can get home as soon as possible."
Deidara smiled. "Yes, Master Sasori, of course."
As the two returned to the bustling afternoon streets of Sundance, Deidara could only pray in silence that Sasori had not seen him cross his fingers behind his back. He would let Sasori follow him to assist with the bounty, but once he had the chance he would take off into the unknown - hopefully never to be heard from again.
-and-and-and-and-and-
The sun was so much warmer in the Wind Country that even as gusts kicked up dirt and the skirts of maidens the powerful gales did little to alleviate the overwhelming heat. Deidara had been walking all morning - with two different men, mind - and he didn't know how much longer he could take the unforgiving climate.
Sasori turned back to Deidara, who had been leading the way for the duo for the first thirty minutes of their mission. The pained look on Deidara's face told Sasori all he needed to know about his new partner's opinion of the desert. It was true; even the shade of the taller buildings was only a brief shield from the sun. Not to mention that summer was not far off, so it would only get more unbearable in the next couple of months.
"Stay with me now, Deidara. No one will help you if you faint," Sasori said with a smile that mocked him. Even though Deidara knew it was true; every man, woman, and child in Sundance was too caught up in their own lives to help him. Their shops needed keeping, their bakeries needed baking, and the tailors need not let their hands stray from their delicate work. There was little room in the day for random goodwill here, it seemed.
"We'll need to stop at the inn I'm staying at to grab my things if we want to make things go more quickly," Deidara said, pointing to Iyaya's inn a few blocks from where they stood.
"Why would we want to do that?" Sasori asked, his gaze fixated on Deidara.
"Why? Why do you think, hm?" Deidara retorted.
"I don't know," Sasori said with a shrug, leaning against an empty cart near the walkway for pedestrians. "I'm asking you. I want to know your reason."
"Because it'll be easier to grab things here while it's still quiet," Deidara said.
Sasori gave a single, firm nod. "Correct. Oh, that's right. I should mention that I'll be conducting an interview of my own while we hunt Argento. I just don't want to risk taking on a... less-than-worthy partner, despite what I've heard about you. No pressure."
"That's not a problem, hm," Deidara said through gritted teeth.
Sasori tapped his chin, a small smile on his lips. "So how would you escape if things go awry?"
They were at the door of the inn, but Sasori stood in between Deidara and his clay - and his escape plan. He swallowed a lump in his throat; Sasori's eyes would not leave him. It took all he had not to show a sign of fear, but he wanted nothing more than to have bolted down the hot paved road to the tavern Roshi was likely drinking in, crying for the help of his uncle.
Deidara reached for the door handle, but Sasori quickly held his arm between him and the entrance. "Answer the question, little brat."
"I don't know. Tunnels?" Deidara asked, trying his hardest to conceal his true intent.
"The Sunshade Catacombs are an option, yes. Not my first pick, but they're good for hiding in the shadows. I hope that we're the only ones doing so today, I guess," Sasori said with a nonchalant shrug.
With that, Sasori opened the door and gestured for Deidara to enter first, to which he happily obliged. The inn was as ornate and luscious as it had been the first night, but after Deidara had gotten word of what was truly going on behind the scenes the vibrant colors and jovial chatter amongst the streets almost seemed to invoke a feeling of melancholy in him.
Even the richly-colored, stained wooden steps with their carved railings and floral adornments of hibiscuses and tiger lilies practically had no effect on Deidara at this point. All he could think of was fire, blazes and the blood of his enemies. As he opened the door to his hotel room with Sasori who followed closely behind, the scent of vanilla, honey, and lavender that lingered from when he bathed with His Prince only a few feet away from him were still not enough to part Deidara with his dark thoughts.
Sasori walked ahead of him, and grabbed the pack that hung over the night table. he held it up to Deidara, who nodded eagerly. Sasori grabbed a few other tools that were scattered around, such as a few dozen kunai and a dusty scroll from a mahogany chair lined with blue silk off in the corner of the room. The redhead snapped his fingers, gesturing to a pile of green clothes that were left in a lump by Deidara's bed.
"Change into those, they're more suited for walking," Sasori commanded. Ever the obedient little one, Deidara immediately gathered the clothes into his arms and made his way into the washroom to change back into the attire Kabuto had so kindly provided for him.
As Deidara pulled the green coat over his mesh shirt, Sasori gave a single, brief knock on the door. The blond hurriedly grabbed the coat's ends together to makeshift a tie until he had his clay pack safely with him again. Deidara looked over his shoulder to see his reflection in the mirror; his hair was a tragic sight. It was matted, windblown, and already a tad dirty from the time he was outside. He looked like a common beggar rather than the king he had felt like when had he left this morning.
"Just a moment!" Deidara called out. The words must have fallen on deaf ears, for Sasori knocked once more with even more force.
"Grab anything you see that looks like it'll sell for a decent amount of money, brat!" Sasori called out from the other side of the door.
Deidara tied the cursed ribbon on his wrist around the bottom of his hair, leaving it in a loose ponytail. He looked far more the part of a Stone Village commoner than he ever had before, complete with the dirt smudges and matted locks. All it took was a little bit of grit and fire to turn him into the perfect image of a civilian.
Before he left the marble bathroom, Deidara made sure to grab the vial of oil that His Prince had used on him. Many other things were crammed into his pack, such as the soaps and rinses along with a few hand towels and a small jade egg that rested atop the blue granite counter. Deidara tousled his hair one final time, and with the room successfully pillaged by his own unweathered standards, he decided it was time to face Sasori once more.
There was a third, much more loud knock before Deidara could open the door. When he flung the carved mahogany door open, expecting the worst, he was faced with Sasori's calm stare. It didn't seem like he was mad at all, which left him more puzzled than if he had been seething. The peculiar way he could flip from one emotion to the next almost on cue, like a change of a record in a player, was what kept Deidara captivated by his self-appointed new partner.
Sasori dropped Deidara's clay pack into his limp arms without a word. Deidara lowered his head, his wild blond hair barely able to be constrained by the ribbon where it usually would have fallen over his face as he bowed. When he raised his head again, he saw that Sasori was making a similar face of disgust to the time when Deidara had foolishly asked him if he danced so many months ago. He felt his heart sink as Sasori continued to stare him down.
"Thank you, hm..." Deidara's lips quivered as he struggled out those words in a hoarse, weak voice. He didn't allow himself to look Sasori in the eye.
"Who taught you to bow to anyone who did even the smallest courtesy to you?" Sasori bluntly asked.
"I... it was my..." Deidara paused for a moment. He couldn't quite remember when he started doing that, but he certainly never bowed to thank his family very much - if he ever had. The more Deidara looked back on it, it seemed to him that he began the compulsion when Onoki took him in. He thought he was being spared, and that he should be grateful to be given the chance at a much better life than he had. What a foolish little boy he had been; any whimsy of childhood he had should have been buried in a pit along with his family that day.
Sasori heaved a sigh, putting his four fingers on his temple. "Look, I can get a good idea of why you started doing it. Just... promise me you'll be more sparing with your kindness. Treat it like a bank from now on - there has to be a point when you can't loan any more goodwill to some people."
"Okay..." Deidara forced a reply out of himself.
He knew Sasori was right, and that if he wanted to be able to defend himself at all, he needed to be far more aggressive than he was now. Even if it was all a farce - an act to put on for the world around him - Deidara swore that his journey would not end until he saw it fit.
The duo left the room torn-apart, plundered and combed of all its valuables. Deidara even managed to scoop up the garb His Prince had fashioned for him and stuffed it along with the sandals into the utility side of his pack, praying the kunai would not tear it.
When it was time to leave, Deidara was grabbed by his wrist with the firm grip of the much older man. Sasori led the younger boy out of the inn of jasper and lies, and back to the streets with his attention focused purely on the road ahead of them, while Deidara trudged behind him with a sour look upon his face.
Sasori paid his pout no heed, however, as he was even more determined than Deidara was to finish this job quickly so he could withdraw back into the confines of the basement in his house in River Country. He didn't forget his intention of restoring the home to a more palatable condition for a human to live, so he needed to make some arrangements in the week's worth of time he allowed this mission as well. He didn't care to inform Deidara of the time crunch or reason, however - it was far more fun to keep little surprises like that to himself until it was convenient to deliver the message.
"Is there an entrance to the uh... those tunnels you mentioned earlier? They had a name."
Deidara tilted his head upwards to look at the sky, and the cogs turned in his mind as he played out all possible scenarios that could come up. He could poison him as well, maybe start a fire by pure accident with him in the building, or maybe he could even turn the bodyguards against him. The most important thing was that Deidara was able to fly away.
He closed his eyes and deeply exhaled as his right hand groped at the mound of stiffened clay in the pouch. The little mouth on his hand merrily went to work on molding a bird suitable for a mount, for he would need it soon, and the clay was much harder to work with than it was two days ago.
Sasori gestured to a nook in between two run-down buildings and guided Deidara to a wooden door that snapped in half the moment Sasori attempted to release the latch. As Sasori fussed about with the rest of the plank door, Deidara discretely opened the right side of his pouch under a rain gutter that dripped water from a washbasin in an apartment above them.
It was crucial to prepare for such an escape early, as his captor had already begun tugging him into the underground passage. "The Sundance Catacombs, that was the name. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer a bit of silence while we walk through a tunnel full of murderers."
Deidara gave a silent nod, while he casually folded his clay about in his palm, as not to raise Sasori's justified suspicion. Thank the Earth Mother and the Stars that he had moistened it enough to easily use again.
-and-and-and-and-and-
The damp air of the Catacombs made it harder for Deidara to breathe. Instead of the cool dampness of the stone houses back in his home country, the heat suffocated him relentlessly as he trotted along after Sasori.
"When...?" Deidara panted. Sasori turned around and silently placed a finger to his lips, ushering him to stay quiet.
A killer would have been a welcome sight for Deidara. Anything to put him out of his misery in these stuffy catacombs.
The red tiles were barely cool beneath Deidara's scantily-covered feet. He debated tossing his sandals a few paces back, but Sasori wasn't willing to stop for anything aside from a piss break or two - and even that was up for debate.
His jacket was little more than a cloth millstone around his torso, and his hair was drenched with sweat. He didn't know a fool mad enough to hide down here and wait for innocent folk to mug, and as they passed by the stone statues of lions and griffins that lined the halls in various stages of decay, he didn't think such a fool had existed here for a long time.
Suddenly, Deidara heard what sounded like squeals of young girls, plus the shrieking of an infant. They were awfully close from how they echoed throughout the halls.
When they approached a fork in the catacombs, Sasori swiftly pulled Deidara in the opposite hallway of the cries. Deidara didn't protest, for he knew with as loud as they were it would be suicide to stay in proximity to such loud noises in case a mugger did decide to turn up. Sasori pulled a kunai out of his coat sleeve, holding it out flat to Deidara.
He scrunched his nose, unsure of why he was handing the knife to him. He certainly had enough to get by for now, but as he gently set the kunai in his right hand he felt he had a grasp of what Sasori intended.
"If they're more than a minute away, come back to where I am. I won't leave this spot." Deidara was about to object, but Sasori held his hand in front of his face. "Don't argue with me, Deidara. You'll be putting them out of their misery, as well as keeping our route secure."
"It sounds like they have a baby," Deidara whispered.
Sasori gave him a blank stare. "So? A lot of people have babies. Many men and women would've given anything to have had such a merciful angel as you spare them a life of turmoil and pain."
Deidara could feel his hand tremble as he gripped the kunai as firmly as he was able. As if his body were on autopilot, his feet carried him down the hall and away from Sasori, towards the two women and the baby that he was tasked to silence.
The coos and cries softened as Deidara approached the two women. They were shrouded in cloaks, much like he was. A nearby torch illuminated their dark skin, which caused the golden jewelry that adorned their wrists and necks to glisten in the flickering light. The sapphires and amethyst gems sparkled as the light danced about the two girls, their silent gaze fixated on the boy with the knife clutched to his chest. They did not gasp when they saw him, nor cry or yell in fear. The stood silent, almost defiantly awaiting the moment he plunged his kunai into one of their hearts.
The slightly shorter girl, with green eyes and a face full of freckles, held the placated baby close to her while her eyes never left Deidara. "Did he send you here? The pig is quite quick today." The taller girl spat at Deidara's feet, her dark eyes filled with malice.
Deidara could barely keep a hold on the knife, but he weakly said, "I'm sorry..."
"You will take Argento back a message from us. We want to tell him-" the taller girl was interrupted by Deidara letting out an audible gasp. He dropped the knife to his feet, for he knew now that there was no need for it. The two girls looked confused momentarily, but remained quiet. Deidara gathered his composure, then took a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn't do to get over-excited.
"I don't want to kill you. I'm sorry for frightening you," Deidara said as he bowed his head to show his deference. To hell with Sasori's advice to be less respectful; respect was likely the reason he was still alive.
"You are a confusing one, boy," the shorter girl said.
"What I mean is that it's Argento I'm after. You girls know him?" Deidara asked, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.
"What did he do to you? Kill mama? Rape sister? Why is he worth killing to you?" the dark-eyed girl asked.
Deidara eyed the baby in the smaller girl's arms, quietly sleeping amid the discourse. "Is that where he came from? Argento?" Deidara gestured to the bundle in the girl's arms.
She lowered her head, holding her child ever closer. "I am shamed now. No man will take me, only slavers."
Deidara watched her face grow weary and sullen, a look he surely wore himself many a time in a life that felt like a dream now more than reality. If he could escape it, why not them? Why not every slave in Sundance? Why not every slave in Wind Country? What was stopping him from burning every slaver in the damned world alive right this very minute?
His enraged trail of thoughts was stopped when he looked down to the kunai at his feet. It was only Sasori who intended to stop him, to capture him, to enslave him. There was only authority that he wished to answer to, and he would see it every day in the mirror. He was his own master, and his own God who held his personal set of commandments. And for Deidara, the first rule he lived by would always be that all he deemed evil must burn.
Deidara held out his hand, at an angle of course, as not to frighten the girls. "Come with me," he said, his face serene despite the thoughts of fire. "I want to destroy all of the slavers in the world, and it's Argento's time now. You may go wherever you like after, I'll make sure you have plenty of money. You may follow me or leave, and I will not fault you."
"You speak sweetly, but we are just chambermaids. We are no warriors," the taller girl said after a long pause, her expression softened.
"I need chambermaids every bit as much as warriors. Unless you want to leave, of course," Deidara said.
"Forgive me, but you don't seem like a conqueror. You look but a boy, and I see no army behind you," the green-eyed girl said.
Deidara's face grew red from embarrassment, "Building an army takes time, you know."
"And so does living. I suppose if you wanted to give a try to kill the pig in his house of whores, he's back where we came from, that way," the dark-eyed girl said, gesturing over to the hallway behind them.
"Wait... it's not that way?" Deidara asked, pointing to the hall behind him where Sasori awaited him.
"Not if you don't want to end up beyond Sundance, little boy," she said.
His heartbeat wildly in his chest, so intense that the mouth on his chest wriggled with each jagged breath he took. Sasori tricked him, even after all of the tears and pleas, it still wasn't enough for him. He had been right all along; Sasori was a monster. A liar, a bad man, and someone he needed to rid himself of as soon as possible. He had his clay now, so it was possible. Sasori would rue the day he set his home aflame, and his retribution would come sooner than he thought. Deidara would bring him Et Godt Farvel.
"I want you to follow me, if not for loyalty, for your lives. For your child's life. What lies beyond me is too fierce an opponent even for myself," Deidara said in the same benevolent, saccharine voice he used before. It was hard to force himself to speak in a mannerism he was not comfortable in, but it certainly got others to listen.
The two girls looked to each other in silence before the green-eyed girl gave a knowing nod, her babe clutched to her breast. They turned to Deidara, and picked the kunai off of the floor and held it out to Deidara. "Cut your leg, M'lord. Look like you failed to kill us."
Deidara obediently took the kunai out of the taller girls hand, then gashed his leg with the sharpened tip with all the courage he could muster. The pain was sharp and burned his calf more than he had pictured it would. Deidara let out a low groan from the pain, but he held on to his composure the best that he could for the two girls. With a weak cry, Deidara jammed the blood-coated kunai into the red-tiled wall.
The brown-eyed girl cocked her head. "M'lord is okay?"
Deidara nodded, unsure of if he truly was. He couldn't falter here; not so close to his grand escape. All he needed to do was get the innocent servants out of the manor, and then set the place afire. The bodyguards could perish along with Argento, for those who would protect evil must die along with it.
Deidara grasped an outstretched hand the taller girl offered him, and he hobbled along the catacombs with the support of his new chambermaids.
-and-and-and-and-and-
The world was a cyclone in his eyes. He could barely see as Kanako and Meisa aided their lord along to the trap door in the kitchen of Argento's hideout.
The brown-eyed girl had introduced herself not long after their departure as Kanako, and the green-eyed maid with the babe in her arms was her younger sister, Meisa. Meisa had been taken by Argento as a whore for his pleasure, but as it became obvious that she was with child, Argento put her to work in the kitchen as a scullery maid. Kanako had personally worked as a chambermaid for Argento, but once Meisa's son was born they knew that they had to make their escape. Argento was not kind to male bastards, as a genuine heir was not something a bride of his was able to provide for him - from the first to the sixth wife, none would prove a fruitful womb.
"M'lord needs rest before he kills Argento," Meisa said as she balanced holding Deidara's left side and her own baby.
"I also suggest sparing the bodyguards less loyal to Argento, they may prove useful if we get attacked in our travels," Kanako suggested, hoisting Deidara back up as he began to slip from their hold.
Deidara wailed from the sudden movement; his leg had not stopped burning since he gashed it, and it seemed to be getting worse. It felt like it was spreading through his body, as well. Had the knife been rusted? No, it had been polished clean when Sasori handed it to him. He tried to think of what could be wrong, but his leg hurt too much to focus on anything but the pain.
"Your leg, M'lord..." Meisa muttered, looking at Deidara's backside.
"Keep moving, sister. M'lord promises to kill all slavers, and if he fails he will die. Either way, we cannot lose, so just help him to the kitchen." Kanako shook her head, as she had already peered behind Deidara to get a glimpse of his injured leg.
Meisa gripped her babe tighter. "But sister, his leg... it's purple..."
"Meisa." Kanako's voice was as hard as stone as she chided her sister. "To the kitchen, and no more."
Deidara flickered in and out of consciousness while Meisa and Kanako carried him to the end of the catacombs. He snapped back to the waking world when they carried him up the short ladder, but soon fell back to sleep once he was laid down on a mat in a small pantry.
When Deidara woke briefly, only Meisa was there, with her little one in a washbasin that was fashioned into a bassinet. She splashed cool water on him, to which Deidara let out a sigh. He had been burning with a reinvigorated fever, though he was thankful for the dreamless sleep it brought.
He groped around for his clay pack, but found it was not around his waist any longer. The garments were much lighter, as well. The flashes of gold and deep blue let him know that they had rummaged through his pack in his sleep.
"It has been but half an hour, M'lord. Kanako has gone to fetch some of the more kind servants, as well as a maegi. For your leg." Meisa held a mason jar of iced milk to his lips, which he drank with little protest. The sweet, cold drink soothed the fire in his body.
Deidara tried to say something, but his throat was too hot. He tried to point to his clay pack but his arms were as heavy as stones at his sides. It dawned on Deidara that the fever had overtaken him, and soon enough both the room and Meisa became a blur again as he gave in to unconsciousness. Deidara had no choice but to accept that it could possibly be the last time he woke.
There were no flashes of nightmares or raging ghosts that greeted Deidara as he dreamed, but rather the voice of his mother. The real one, as she had been in her waking life. The crackling hearth echoed throughout his mind as his mother softly whispered one of his favorite bedtime stories to him, all while he heard the wind howl outside.
"There were once six brothers, all by one mother. She loved them all dearly, though only Baelerion the big, ferocious dragon would ever be allowed to fly with her.
"Yet the other five brothers never fared quite as well as Baelerion, each one did rather remarkable things in their own right."
As if on cue, Deidara heard his mother's words echo. "And remember, my babe, you do not have to be as Baelerion was to be great. Remember that, sweet one."
"Zephyr, the hawk with feathers of white and blue, would match the winds in speed. Eros, the white dove, would bring peace to his mother's vengeful tirades. Onyx, the black wolf, betrayed his mother, and Baelerion protected her as he always would, until the bitter end. And Vulcan, the ghastly beast with a face that almost melted off of him, was not fit to walk with the mother, so she mercifully killed him when he was but a babe.
"Yet Red, a second dragon and the sixth brother, often was ignored by their mother. Baelerion's scales were pure white, and he had eyes so blue they seemed to contain the sky. Red, on the other hand, was a typical red-scaled dragon, with plain crimson eyes and a far smaller body than his brother. His fires burned ever brighter, though his mother would find out too late.
"Eros was kind and peaceful, but the mother spoiled him, and as he was raised like a delicate flower, he was crushed as one.
"Zephyr was a more tragic loss. An arrow to the heart, as the mother took back her home on his back. It almost cost her life, and her sanity.
"Yet when the darkness came to take their mother, Baelerion protected her until his last, though it was not enough. As the birds and Baelerion fell, Red was all his mother had for comfort and safety.
"It was not enough, as you know.
"One afternoon, a cold winter snowfall had graced the ruined kingdom of old. Red found his mother laying on the floor with her eyes closed, still, dead.
"He tried to wake her up, or to revive her. It was no use. Red let out a monstrous cry, one that perfectly captured the pain and grief that his mother had endured all of her life.
"And Red flew off, alone, and never to return.
"Goodnight, sleep tight, Deidara."
"Deidara."
"Deidara?"
"Deidara!"
His eyes shot open as he gasped in air, his lungs filled to the brim with oxygen. It was dark where he lay, but he could visibly see the bright red hair and brown eyes full of worry before him.
Sasori pressed a cold cloth onto Deidara's head., to which he flinched from the chill. His body convulsed while Sasori examined him, but it only took a moment for Deidara to realize that he was moving as well as he always had. The rest seemed to have done the trick, or possibly the iced milk. It didn't matter either way to a boy who had gotten his body back to normal.
Deidara wriggled his left arm out of the blanket he was swaddled in, grasping once more for his clay pack. "My clay... my..."
Deidara couldn't finish once he started wheezing, to which Sasori held a cloth to his mouth and patted his back until the hacking fit stopped. The cloth was lightly dotted with blood and phlegm as Sasori drew it back and tossed it into a nearby basin. He looked visibly upset, pained even. It wasn't anything like the man he had spent the better part of the day with.
"Two girls told me what happened. Meisa and Kanako, I think they were called. Nice girls. Your new servants, they said? That's an impressive feat, Deidara. Recruiting others on unfounded promises isn't particularly easy. Good job, little partner."
Deidara looked over to a short stool, where his clay pack was propped next to a few empty vials and mason jars. "My... clay..."
His voice was still too hoarse to thoroughly communicate what he wanted. He wanted his clay pressed between his fingers, to mold and to birth new life from art; he had no skill for the written word to take note of his dream, but he could create the six brothers as he imagined them when his mother had told him that story. He could continue her legacy when he couldn't cling to her memories that faded by the day.
Sasori seemed to understand Deidara's awkward babbling and reached for the pack, then placed it by Deidara's side with the pouches unzipped. He gently tucked him in once more, then pressed a fresh cold compress onto the nape of his neck. Deidara shivered at the sensation of the icy water as it dripped down his shoulders and spine.
He skinnied his arm back out of the blanket and thrust it into the pack that contained his clay. He pulled out a large mound, a rather reckless amount for something he needed to conserve as much of as possible. Nevertheless, he set to work on the creation of his mind's eye; even Sasori's gentle prying could not tear him away from his work. Eventually, the older man sighed soundlessly, resigned to letting his fellow artist take off with his newest masterpiece.
Sasori sat idly for some time before he peered over Deidara's shoulder to take a look at what he was working on. It was a bird, and it looked to be a very delicately crafted one so far. Funny, Sasori thought, there was a boy I vaguely recall not long ago that sat in a crude manner and sculpted birds.
The last Sasori - or rightfully anyone - had ever heard of him, he had set that boy ablaze. Perhaps, maybe in the slightest chance, the boy had a twin brother.
"Deidara..." Sasori uttered amidst the little grunts of the working artist and the silence that swallowed the room.
Deidara slapped and folded little pieces of clay around, then looked behind him to respond. "I'm almost finished, I just need to make the details on the last one. Okay, hm?"
He gave a nod of approval. "Quick work, and not bad for a rushed job. Are they going to be used as explosives in case we fail to poison Argento?"
"No, not these ones. They're going to stay as regular sculptures."
"I see. And will you have enough clay after we're done here?"
"Is that any of your business, hm?" Deidara snarled.
"When all this is finished, I want a lift back to River Country. That's all I wanted to say." Sasori then stood up and walked over to the stool. He delicately picked up a small, empty vial and held it up to Deidara.
"I'll be doing the poisoning myself, by the way. It seems I can't even trust you to not die by a measly kunai, and I'm sadly all out of antidotes." Sasori shook the vial in Deidara's face before setting it back on the stool.
He had believed that he was immortal, as all children did. His family may have died, but he still stood. Han may have vanished, yet he still stood. And he would have stood alone, yet a little prick of a poisoned kunai was enough to kill him. His face grew hot, through embarrassment or fever, he did not know. He kicked himself in his mind; he should have seen that coming. As he hunched over his clay with the man that almost killed him twice over by his side, Deidara wondered if he could never learn to not be the fool he had always known himself to be.
Sasori sighed. "At least your leg is fine. You weren't stupid enough to sever a vein, so you should make a full recovery in a few hours."
Deidara's lip quivered. Unsure of how to respond, he only lowered his head. He knew that one day when he was able to assassinate someone on his own, he needed to face them with fire in his eyes. Not tears.
Yet that didn't stop them from welling up in his eyes. Be it from frustration, fever or fatigue, Deidara buried his face into the dirt floor with his sculptures in his arms. His muffled cries drew no attention, and neither Meisa or Kanako rushed to tend to him.
Yet Sasori, with his body as hard as his soul, embraced him in their stead.
-and-and-and-and-and-
A little girl with a bowl cut of an umber hue walked steadily down the hallway of the morgue. She had failed, and she knew not why it needed to be done. But it was not done, and her grandfather still concocted a plan to have the event transpire.
Kurotsuchi opened the door to the coroner's lab, where her grandfather and her father awaited alongside him. They turned to her with soft eyes that did not see the next Tsuchikage, but a little girl. A princess of stone and coal.
Her eyes darted over to the four blanketed sheets that covered individual tables. Her hands quivered as they did that very night, though she dared not to say such a thing. It was her fault that she failed, but why must she succeed in doing such a thing?
"Show me," Kurotsuchi said as she held back the trembling in her throat.
"Daughter, it would be best if we just explained-"
"I said show me. I am the next Tsuchikage, and I must be as hard and as tough as the earth itself. Grandpa, why did this have to happen? Why?"
"It's not me that did this to these poor men, Gran'daughter. You have to accept the truth of it all," Onoki said in the gentle voice he saved for only her.
"Father, you've gotta-"
"Daughter." Kitsuchi's gaze was stern, his massive frame shadowed over her like a mountain.
"Two men with their faces singed off, one with gouged eyes, one with a throat that was slit like a barbarian did the deed. Three of them had their legs severed." The coroner spoke up amid their argument, which caused the room to fall silent.
"He... really did that to these men? We saw them every day, he always waved, even though they never waved back..." Kurotsuchi said in an attempt to reason with the bloodied evidence before her.
Onoki shook his head. "No, little one. Don't try and understand a monster's reasons, there ain't no use in it."
"That means we have to kill him then, doesn't it?" Kurotsuchi said with a pout.
Onoki gave a firm nod. "That much is true, my Gran'daughter. The beast had a birthday coming up in a moon 'n' a half, didn't he?"
"May Fifth..." Kurotsuchi muttered.
"Then why don't we give the beastly boy a nice birthday gift. A shining silver dagger, and a brave man to plunge it through his heart."
As the coroner held up a jewel-encrusted dagger, the twinkle of the silver in the laboratory lights almost sparked a hint of gold in Kurotsuchi's eyes. She took it as an omen, as one would do, and prayed that the bravest men in their country happened to be busy for the next few months.
-and-and-and-and-and-