Infiltration: Part 1
Microfic by Sarehptar
The assassination had been a messy one; had hardly gone as smoothly as it should have, though not because of anyone in particular. That wasn't what Rei-sama would want to hear of course, so Deidara would take the blame. He always did--it made them so much more forgiving. He was the young one, the inexperienced one. Rei was always going easy when it came to him. The pale Iwa-nin fidgeted along the cool wooden bench. S-ranked easy sometimes left scars.
The hit should have been simple; child's play. The target had been a Kunoichi for Heaven's sake and a Chuunin at that... He massaged his temples with deft fingers--not so much from a headache as from the need to keep his hands busy. The mission would have gone over perfectly, but they'd been ambushed earlier by a full ANBU platoon. The battle had been ridiculously long and taxing; even Sasori had been drained of Chakra. He shook his head without ceasing the repetitive circles his fingertips were tracing. If he'd been full of clay the platoon would have never stood a chance. He chuckled slightly. Deidara, the notoriously unprepared ninja. They'd managed to get away of course, something he couldn't say for the ANBU. There'd be widows weeping somewhere in a few days.
By all means, they should have given it at least a day before moving on to complete the mission, but time, in this case, had been a luxury ungranted. That woman knew things she wasn't supposed to know, and if she thought to disclose them... Hnh, he let that train of thought die. The rush had put them in a very bad place--he hardly had enough clay left for a spider, and Chakra? One shot, maybe. He'd left Sasori in the woods mending his puppets and gone to finish the mission himself. That was commonly how it worked with them: the Scorpion drew so much attention that almost every infiltration mission fell on the pale and (almost) inconspicuous Iwa nin.
If the woman had been a good ninja, following her would have loads of fun--he loved the way they all stiffened, walked at a brisk pace, darted glares from the corners of their eyes without turning... However, the Kunoichi seemed fairly oblivious, and Deidara had to work hard to keep himself from yawning in boredom. Her house was plain but comfortable--he could see the blooming plants through her wide kitchen window. Night didn't fall soon enough.
The target may have been oblivious, but she didn't have a death wish. He knew it was too much to hope for an open window. She sat, short dark hair spilling around her face like a black halo, at her dining room table. Pictures--she was putting together a scrapbook. With a grunt akin to pain, the straw-haired Akatsuki member summoned the last vestiges of his Chakra and sent a tiny clay spider through the barest crack in the window sill. The creature should have had enough Chakra to strike her dead, provided it reached a vital area. Unfortunately, it never had a chance. It scaled her chair, and spindly legs grasping the cloth of her flack jacket, made its slow way across her chest. The words of detonation burned on the edge of his tongue, but he forced them back--a bad choice. The female chuunin spotted the clay figurine and did something very unninja-like.
"SPIDER!" Realizing his plan had just been thoroughly endangered, Deidara detonated the insect at the same moment her hand flew out to brush the offending bug away. The explosion was tiny, almost soundless from where he was standing, but he could see the spray of blood as it dashed like reverse rain across the silvery window. The immediate howl of agony that followed crushed any lingering hope that the mission was completed.
Swiftly, thoughtlessly, he gave into the murderous instincts that had gained him his place in an S-ranked band. He felt his fist shatter the glass, adding his blood to her own. His sandaled feet splashed into the mess on the floor, inches from where she lie, whimpering and clutching the stump of her hand. The pain was clouding her vision, but she must have seen him--the barest of inaudible gasps made her throat expand, in time to meet cold, dark steel of his kunai. She shuddered once, spilling crimson drops onto his pale knuckles, and fell back, eyes wide and lips fluttering, forming words that ended in her severed vocal cords.
Mission accomplished.
Fatigue washed over him, and he resisted the sudden urge to lie down next to the bleeding corpse and sleep. The explosion would have attracted attention; he vaulted out the window, avoiding the jagged red edges of the glass. There'd be people flocking here immediately, and he didn't have enough Chakra -any Chakra- to make a quick get away. Best not to be prowling the streets or woods covered in blood... He slipped the scarred headband off his forehead and tucked it away; delicately he bent and took off his bloodied sandals, and skillfully tossed them behind her flowering bushes. Stately, slowly, as if he knew nothing about what had just happened, the pale artist turned away from the window.
"Mommy?" The voice inside the house was quiet, unsure. "Mommy? MOMMY!" He heard the light form collapse; he heard the delicate scrape of clothed knees across the sanguine floor. His footsteps never faltered.
"MOMMY!"
Continued as Infiltration: Part 2