Pretty like a girl, they had called him. Big pretty eyes. Long silky hair.
They took his left eye with a long needle, slow and painful. Oh how he had screamed, only fourteen years old.
It got in his eye socket too. Dribbling down his face, his mouth, down his throat.
At the time he wondered why they thought he had the information they wanted. It was only with age that he learned that they had never believed him to have it in the first place. They just didn't care.
They didn't have anyone else, and he was an enemy.

Sasori had reached out to push the thick bangs out of Deidara's face, to touch him if only with the puppet limbs, but the younger shinobi had thrown himself backwards and away.
"Deidara," Sasori had clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
The next time Deidara held still, his remaining eye screwed shut and teeth clenched tight.
"Let me see," the puppet master said, almost gentle.
"Sasori-danna…"
"Let me see how much is left so I know how much can be done."
Deidara's blue eye opened and stared at the face of the puppet inside of which he knew Sasori was, somewhere, untouchable.