Found
R is for Ramshackle
O O O
His head hurt, his groin hurt, his left shoulder hurt, his ego hurt… Deidara wondered what else he could add to the list.
The thieves had transported him—them?—from that demolished cave to some sort of base of operations consisting of a beat up, abandoned village. And although this was all fine and dandy, because he did not want to stay outside in the open air with more thieves, he had to wonder just what the hell they wanted with he and Sakura. They'd robbed them and humiliated them, and though they could have done worse—like rape Sakura, his mind supplied, or rape him, another desperate, squeaky portion of his brain offered—they honestly didn't have to go as far as they did.
Couldn't they have just killed them? Not that he would have let them—he and Sakura had been moments away from precious escape anyway. And to these fumbling retards, even if the both of them were sorely out of practice, he and Sakura were still like Goddamn magicians.
And Sakura, she was resourceful. Himself, not so much, but Sakura. Once she got over the drug pounding in her veins, she'd be able to devise a plan.
And he…
Well, he could blow stuff up. Which he'd be happy to do. Because as it turned out, he wasn't so well-off when it came to tactical planning.
Hell, just look at what had happened with Sakura. He hadn't even planned to meet up with Kisame, either, but he'd improvised.
Plan Capture Medic-nin, Heal Wounds, Keep as Personal Medic-nin, Maybe Sorta Kinda Revive a Small Portion of What Could Possibly Be Called Akatsuki had fallen to a horrible pile of fail. It had now, though not quite as regretfully as he maybe should have considered it, become plan Capture Medic-nin, Get an Erection at Every Possible Moment, Have Sex with Medic-nin, Dump Kisame off, Develop Feelings for Medic-nin, Break Medic-nin's Heart and Vice Versa.
And it was coming along fabulously. In the same way a mass genocide would come along.
Grunting, Deidara finally managed to roll onto his other side, the one that wasn't shooting pain up his body at every given second. He was hog-tied, to his dismay, which they must have done while he was unconscious, and he had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he had recently regained his senses, and now he was lying in a dark, mostly empty building with a dirt floor, which probably therefore stripped it of its "building" title, because fuck, didn't buildings usually have carpet? Or at least tile? Linoleum? Concrete, then! He'd take just about anything at this point, as long as it wasn't the dirt.
Dear Jesus, he was going soft in his old age.
Inwardly he cursed his early midlife crisis, while outwardly he called for Sakura.
And there was, as expected, no answer.
"Come on," he groaned, simultaneously spitting some straw out of his mouth. "I don't have time for games, yeah."
No answer.
He lifted his head and peered around, and with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could very clearly see that he was in some sort of small, round hut. And it was empty.
Well, fuck.
So now he was alone in a ramshackle old hut, he was in pain, he was hog-tied, and he had not the slightest idea where Sakura was.
He didn't know where Sakura was.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
And he had no clay left.
"Hopeless fucking fuck-headed fuck of a fucking fucked up fuck-situation. …Fuck!"
And someone was opening the door to the hut, shedding an unwarrantedly bright sliver of light across Deidara's heaving chest.
He tried to even his erratic breathing, stopped struggling, and feigned unconsciousness, even as heavy footsteps and the distinct smell of a rather large, rather sweaty man bent in front of him.
He looked him right in the face, and Deidara was able to peer at him from behind a curtain of blond eyelashes. The man was never the wiser of his sleeping façade.
Except when he hauled Deidara up by the hair and Deidara yelped out another sharp obscenity. After using "fuck" so much, he'd damn near wasted his entire lexicon of impacting swear words, which was a very sad state of affairs. And, maybe to keep his mind off of the obvious, he tried to think of a situation where he could slide "cunt" right up in there.
The man said not a word, though he cut the rope binding Deidara's ankles to his wrists and dragged the poor artist behind him in the dirt. Said poor artist tried valiantly not to trip. Because whenever he tripped, his hair was tugged on, and he could feel the strands being plucked out one by one. And as much as his hair had irritated him the past couple of months, he'd still rather keep it all intact, thanks very much.
He was tossed unceremoniously into the back of what looked like some sort of wagon-wheelbarrow hybrid, wherein several assumed bandits chewed tobacco and spat it out and grunted things better left unintelligible.
He said not a word, because he was far too busy taking in the surroundings as the wagon-wheelbarrow—the wheelwagon? No, the wagonbarrow sounded better—continued on its merry way through the decrepit town. He memorized every rock, every tattered hut, every fork in the dusty road, imprinting a mental map into his brain. He only hoped that said mental map would very well stay put.
They reached their destination soon enough, what looked to be an abandoned prison.
The same sweaty, pig-like man that had dragged him into the wagonbarrow abruptly dragged his sorry ass right back out, and this time Deidara managed to keep his step up fine enough to not trip over every crag in the ground.
And in they went onto the front porch, through the rusty front door, traveling back, back, back into the bowels of what had appeared to be a small jailhouse on the outside. In all actuality, it was a massive penitentiary carved into the side of a mountain inside. Dozens of cells lined the rock walls, and the air steadily grew cooler the further they descended.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of attempting to memorize every twist and turn, the man opened up a cell and tossed Deidara in. He stumbled inside, banging his shoulder unnecessarily hard against the opposite rock wall. The man closed and locked the cell, and as he walked away with key in hand, Deidara felt his sanity slowly begin to slip away.
His head was throbbing, he was filthy from dirty and dried clay and hay that kept getting into unpleasant places, and he was alone. Utterly alone, and he had not the slightest idea where Sakura could be. Hell, she could be dead, even if he severely doubted this. That girl was tough as nails.
Then again, his suddenly overactive imagination supplied, there were far worse things than death.
Sighing, he slid down the wall, landing gently on his rump. He extended one leg before him and curled the other to his chest.
He could manage little more than a mumble. "This sucks, yeah."
For fuck's good sake, they were probably…probably raping her right now. Or doing something similarly cliché. Or maybe they were shoving bamboo chutes under her nails.
He shivered.
They could be pulling her hair out. Or slowly dripping hot wax on her skin. Or breaking each toe one by one!
Or! Or! Or they could be raping her while shoving bamboo chutes under her nails, pulling her hair out, dripping hot wax onto her, and breaking her toes!
Oh, the horror. Even if he was exaggerating, because what the fuck. She was probably just locked up somewhere, like him, and he was a stupid-ass for thinking otherwise.
The opium, though. The opium was a very real threat. Earth Country had quite a problem with it, what with constant trade and loose security, and he knew the addictive qualities. The dose they'd given Sakura had obviously been opium laced with some other focus-degrading drug, something relatively harmless when used all by its lonesome, he figured, but if they gave her any more, then he'd have a real problem on his hands. Withdrawals weren't fun; they really, really weren't.
He knocked the back of his skull against the wall behind him and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell had he gotten them into? If only he'd been flying the bird higher up. If only he hadn't insisted they leave in such a rush. If only he'd begged Kisame to stay. Hell, if only he hadn't kidnapped her in the first place.
…No, no, that wasn't right. He was glad he had. They'd been through the wringer more than a few times, and despite all that, he'd never regret their meeting.
He heard shifting from the cell directly beside his, even sharing adjacent bars, and holy shit. He hadn't even noticed the person's chakra presence.
But now that he did, now that he actually studied it, it held a familiar feel. Soft at the edges but filled with a certain spark that drove him absolutely mad in the best way possible.
He scrambled to the shared set of bars, peering around the iron at the heart-stoppingly recognizable lump in the nearest corner.
A head of frayed, dirty, pink hair rose slowly when he flared his chakra. He couldn't very well use his arms, and there was no way in hell he could fit a foot that far through, so he'd wake her this way.
"Sakura!"
Calling her name helped too, he supposed. But there was nothing like an electric wave of chakra in the morning.
"Sakura!"
Seriously, how stupid were these bandits? Why would they put them in cells right beside each other? It was like they wanted them to break out.
Finally, she pushed herself to a seated position. She wasn't up.
"Oh, Deidara. Hi."
He furrowed his brow. "'Hi'? All you can say is 'hi'?"
She glanced to the left for a second. "Well…yes? Are you alright?"
He sighed long and deep and rested his forehead against the bars, which were incredibly cold. "I am now."
"How cute."
He wasn't sure whether she was being sarcastic or not, but he growled anyway. "Just shut up. Just shut up and kiss me before I kill you."
And she did so, and the bars were thin enough so that they could barely touch, and without hands to use as leverage, Deidara was barely able to slip his tongue in for a quick taste. Not that she tasted like Heaven on Earth or anything, which reminded him, they really needed toothbrushes, but the closeness he felt acted delightfully in lieu of these downfalls.
She was able to fit her hands and arms, to a certain point, through the bars to touch his cheeks and his neck and then his chest, and she asked him if he was hurt anywhere, had they harmed him, if his head felt alright as he pressed kiss after kiss over every inch of her lips. They were quick pecks, barely a smidgen of the relief he felt, but it was enough, and he was eventually able to wrestle away the urge to tell her just how much he loved her. Again. Which so wasn't true, because he so totally didn't.
"Can you break out—" he started, but she cut him off when she busted the iron of those shared bars with a chakra-laden kick. The dust disturbed on the floor made him sneeze.
"Bless you. Now come here."
He pulled himself over to her side, and when he was able to collapse fully on top of her and bury his dirty nose into her dirty neck, it felt like heaven all over again. His shoulder was pressing into her arm, probably quite uncomfortably, but she would just have to deal with it, because this was all a new sort of experience for him.
She tugged the ropes off him, which looked easy from her angle.
"Where are you hurt?" she asked again, and he could feel the cool sensation of her readying her chakra. He loved it when she healed him. He'd never admit it aloud, but he did. Really.
"Head, yeah," he mumbled into her, not even bothering to move. She soothed the bruise there and the irritations caused by pulling his hair and he relaxed significantly.
"Anywhere else?"
"My—uh." He abruptly choked on his words. It was never this hard when he was being purposefully vulgar.
"Your what? Your butt?"
"No. It's my—"
"Oh, your—"
"Yeah."
"…Again?"
"Hey. Watch it."
She snorted, rolled her eyes, and prompted him to lay back. Which he did.
He remembered, as she unbuckled his pants and slid them past his hips, a time when he hadn't trusted her with this. He was sure she'd prevent any babies in his future. And now…
Well, now he could sit back and enjoy it.
She shot him a death glare. "Now's really not the time for an erection, Deidara."
"I wasn't gonna," he defended, frowning at her. "Oh ye of little faith."
She slipped a hand under his shorts, and there it was. Skin on skin. "I just don't trust your libido. At all."
"As well you shouldn't, yeah. Because neither do I."
He was back to relatively new status in no time, and that was when she busted out the front of the cell, enabling them to make their quick escape.
They walked through the stone halls, because sweet Jesus, it was a fucking maze in there.
Sakura scratched the back of her head. "Do you know how to get out of here?"
"I tried. I really did."
She scoffed. "And look where it got us."
He peered around a corner, and nothing but another long, winding, cold hallway met his gaze. "I didn't see you trying."
"I was inebriated!" she defended, but he didn't miss the guilty tone lying under her words. "It wasn't my fault if I couldn't focus."
He settled for continuing along their northerly route, even if it wasn't necessarily north. For all he knew they could have been traveling west, but it didn't matter at that time, because they were going "forward" instead of "backward," "left," or "right," and "forward" was the way out.
Vaguely, he recalled some of his academy days. "Never Endanger Shrimpy Whales," his teacher had told him, which was designed to help him remember his directions. There were various other versions, like "No Eagles Should Wail" and "Never Elope Sad Writers," but none was very convincing, and most got downright silly.
"Alright, I'm officially lost," Sakura admitted, pushing her filthy hair out of her filthy face.
"I've been lost for the past half hour, yeah," he complained, slumping his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Actually, for the past day. I hate this place. I hate this country. Why do you think I left in the first place?"
"Don't get snippy with me. It's not my fault we're in this."
"Well, it's not mine, if that's what you're insinuating, yeah."
She scoffed. "Fine, it's no one's fault, then. So what do we do now?"
"We keep walking," Deidara said simply, and he moved forward as if he had not a care in the world. Which was complete bullshit, but he willed himself to believe it in order to keep up his placid, collected front.
"What if we never get out? What if we starve to death? Or die of thirst?"
"Oh, come on. This place can't be that big."
But it was.
In fact, as far as Deidara was concerned, it was a fucking labyrinth. He half expected the Minotaur to start chasing them around.
Eventually, neither of them could figure out whether they'd traveled south last or not, and whether the left passage was actually west. And "Never Endanger Shrimpy Whales" did absolutely nothing for them at this point.
And there was a moment in that time when Deidara realized just how dangerous Sakura was when she was frustrated.
"You'd better be able to run, because we're not exactly going to go out quietly." Her fist was through the nearest wall. And then the next. And the next, and the next, until finally, thankfully, Deidara recognized the shattered remains of the front desk.
Sakura was exhausted. She leaned heavily against a nearby wall, closing her eyes.
"Let's rest for a minute," she said, and Deidara agreed.
Their resting, however, consisted not so much of resting as it did sliding down the nearest wall and to the floor together, heads pressed together, and with Deidara taking her left hand firmly in his own.
"Holy shit," he breathed, staring up at the poorly lit ceiling.
"Yeah," she said, though her voice was more of an echo of his than something solid.
He turned his head half toward her, and he pulled their joined hands into his own lap. "You okay? I never got to ask, yeah. What did they do to you?"
She laughed gently, then, letting her head droop against first her chest and then falling to his shoulder. "Probably not much worse than they did to you."
"Well, all they did to me was pull my hair and shove me around a bit."
"Mm, same here. Then again, I can't remember half of it. Though I suppose that's a good thing."
"Any idea what they might have wanted, yeah?"
She chortled bitterly. "Company? Hell, I don't know. Maybe we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Sure, but then why not kill us directly after? Or let us go? It's not adding up that they'd want to keep us around--"
He should have noticed it. She should have noticed it. They both should have noticed it. But they didn't, and because they hadn't, the splinter of an arrow being set and then released was almost deafening.
And they should have been faster. This was what shinobi specialized in, quick reflexes and even quicker wits. But they were tired, they both were so, so tired, and they thought they were safe, and maybe just thinking something wasn't quite enough lately.
Our of sheer reflex, both he and Sakura hopped up, quite intent on hauling ass out of harm's way, but Sakura fell sideways suddenly, and Deidara almost didn't catch her. But because he had, maybe, maybe that was what ignited the spark of adrenaline, maybe, maybe that was what prompted him to trip the closest thief so that he was flat on his ass, and then infuse chakra into a stomp that was crushing the man's skull against the rock floor. A mixture of dark-colored blood and pinkish tissue haloed the corpse's head.
Two more thieves started backing out of the door, readying more arrows, steadying more swords, holding more daggers between fingers. They were a talented bunch, these guys—he had to give them at least that.
But he was thirty times the prowess any ten men here, and they'd taken advantage of their streak of dumb luck earlier by capturing he and Sakura.
Now, however…
Now Deidara was an Akatsuki again. Now Deidara was fighting for equal parts pleasure and survival. Now Deidara was parading a smile that defied whatever anguish and anxiety was making his ribcage feel like it was about to cave in.
Now he was tossing the girl with an arrow in her side over his shoulder and stepping onto the dead man's back.
"I'd love to stay and find out just what, exactly, you had in mind," he spoke, and the place where the Akatsuki ring had once been on his finger felt starkly exposed, "but I'm afraid you all just sicken me far too much, yeah."
He managed to sprint past the multitude of thieves crowding at the door, a number that had increased alarmingly in the past few moments, no more than a blur in their peripheral vision.
Once in the open air, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, which was pretty damn fast, he had to say so himself. The thieves were like fucking cockroaches in a colony, though; he'd pass one group only to dart straight through another.
And Sakura was bleeding onto his shoulder, making him feel sick. It was like history repeating itself, almost, and he could barely, barely make out Tobi's face and voice. It had been so long since he'd been hit by a tragedy like this. He didn't want it happening again.
The vaguely medically informed portion of his brain—this was a small, small part, as Deidara was an artist, not a doctor—was hoping against all things that Sakura was merely suffering a flesh wound. It was a possibility that she'd just collapsed from exhaustion—things like arrows to the ribs and crushing walls could do that to a person—or that she'd gone into shock from the pain.
He hoped it was exhaustion.
Speaking of which, his calves were shrieking at him to stop, but he promptly told them to fuck off by speeding up. There were no more men at his tail, as far as he could tell, but that didn't mean he was going to quit his path anytime soon.
For good measure, however, he did hang a sharp right when he came upon a very small river. He continued along the bank until he spotted a tree that doubled over across the thin body of water, allowing perfect access to the other side.
He took this wonderful opportunity, and he was across at the opposite bank in a matter of moments. Slick pebbles and grainy mud met his sandals, and twice he almost slipped, but the prospect of hiding out in that foxhole just ahead was far too tempting.
He slowed to a stop, and what he had once thought to be a foxhole was actually a rather large cave. One of the many reasons why he hated Earth Country. There were fucking caves everywhere. And in the caves, horrid creatures that often tasted like crap.
He hated camping.
He set Sakura down, though, absently aware of the change of scenery, panting heavily. A field mouse dared cross his vision, and he stepped on it with his heel angrily.
Finally able to rest and think for a moment, he pressed his forehead, sweaty and hot, against Sakura's much cooler upper arm. He allowed only a momentary cry of frustration before he set to trying to rouse Sakura.
She was still breathing, though a little slower and a little deeper, and for this he was massively, massively grateful.
"This can't go on," he said in a sort of tired, whiny voice. "You've gotta go home, Sakura. You can't keep scaring me like this, yeah."
Even if it was the first time she'd ever really been in a life-threatening situation around him.
"As much as I hate to say it," he admitted, "we really can't--"
"Shut up."
He would have fallen full upon her if an arrow wasn't currently sticking out of her side. "Can you heal yourself?"
She didn't even try to sit up, though she was gritting her teeth and occasionally wincing. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. "Fuck this hurts."
"Yeah, I realize that, but can you?"
"Probably not completely—ah, shit, fucking bandits—but enough to stop the bleeding." She opened her eyes, then, and when she did the tears fell, and she locked her gaze with his.
He felt like whimpering. "I wish they would have shot me instead." He pulled at his hair in aggravation. "I wish I could have seen that coming before, yeah."
"And I wish you'd shut the fuck up and help me get this arrow out. Can you do that, Deidara?"
He nodded.
"Do you remember when I pulled that kunai out of your neck a while back?" she asked, and he nodded again. "Good," she continued. "It's like that, except as I heal around it, you pull out the arrow. That way I don't lose as much blood."
"Not that it's going to make a difference." He rubbed his blood-soaked shoulder, frowning.
"Are you hurt, too?"
"No, that's yours."
"Oh."
And with that he took a firm grip on the arrow, she put both green-lit hands to her afflicted side, and she pulled in one quick stroke and she gasped but healed it up anyway.
He grimaced and tossed the arrow aside, and she sighed.
"So where are we?" she asked.
"A foxhole," he said, flicking away an ant, where it promptly attempted to trudge out of the field mouse's goopy puddle of blood. "But we're not at that colony, and we're safe, and that's all that matters."
She snorted. "I hate your country. Have I told you that recently?"
"Join the club. We've still got a ways to go, but from what I can remember, everything's pretty industrialized from here on out, yeah. Mostly mining towns and cities built around oil refineries. Did I ever tell you that the Land of Earth is very ecologically rich?"
"I should start calling you Professor Deidara. You sound like my geography instructor."
"Bah." He laid himself down beside her, flicking away yet another ant. Except this time, there was chakra in the flick, so the ant was sent careening off against the back wall of the cave-slash-foxhole. At least there were no dangerous animals inhabiting the place.
"It's true. It's endearing, though."
"It damn well better be. I was going to be a historian when I was a kid. I actually started taking some courses for it."
"So that's where it came from. I was under the impression that you were just worldly."
"You're such a damn nag. Anyway, as you can see, that plan fell to hell."
Sakura was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the complexities of Professor Deidara, head of the National Historian Society in the Land of Earth and founder of Iwagakure's very first natural history museum.
Finally, she sighed. "I can see a connection between art and history, so it's not all that difficult to wrap my head around."
"Don't think too much into it, yeah. It's complicated." He folded his arms under his chin. "Bad memories and wrong turns all the way through."
She shrugged, but he noticed that she winced directly afterwards. "We've all made mistakes. Some are just more prominent than others, I guess."
"How noble of you."
"You're getting my sympathy, and you're damn lucky you're even getting that."
"That's not all I'm getting…"
"What was that, you little—?"
"I said I hope you aren't particularly fond of animals, yeah."
"Why?"
He flicked away another ant, this time disconnecting its thorax from its abdomen on accident. "Because the death toll is up to one field mouse and three ants."
It was then that she noticed the bloodied body of the field mouse, and the revulsion on her face was tangible. "Deidara, you sick little man!"
He grinned. "Deidara? Who is this Deidara you speak of, yeah? Is there someone else I should know of, Keiko?"
The revulsion faded into annoyance. "Don't play games with me."
He flicked an ant at her.
"Deidara!"
"Makoto, yeah. My name's Makoto."