Found
T is for Thief
O O O
There were five very crucial things along their journey that Sakura had come to realize were truths. She had counted them all out in her head, and it had only taken her one night's stay in a small Earth Country hotel to do it.
One: The war was slowly but surely coming to a halt. It might even have been in its last stages. Not that she'd been able to observe it much, but the steady slowing of information trickling to her, the overall calmness settled in the people as they traveled further west, it was all pointing to this end.
Two: Konoha and all of her friends therein thought her to be dead. If they didn't, she would have seen or heard from them by now. She was soon to prove them wrong.
Three: All of her preconceived notions of villains, heroes, evil, good, and the line dividing these things had been crushed in the palm of one particularly animated antihero's hand. That hand had also eaten said notions, combined them with clay, made a pretty butterfly out of it, let the butterfly go, and then exploded it into a thousand pieces.
Four: She had been wearing this pair of underwear for way too long, washed or not.
Five: She hadn't thought she could ever fall in love again, as cliché as it sounded. Not after Sasuke, the war, so many, many deaths, or any of these other things orbiting her life like a deathly plague. But she had anyway, she knew, she could feel it, pervading every piece of her body and slipping silently under her senses. It had hit her at the last minute, this epiphany, and now it really was too late.
It didn't matter if she was in love with Deidara; it didn't matter if she would have done anything for him, that she had completely disregarded the fact that he'd killed, because hadn't she, also? It didn't matter that she'd completely disregarded the fact that he was once a part of the most dangerous organization in the world, because weren't there those who had feared her above all else, as well? It didn't matter that she'd completely disregarded the fact that he'd been bordering on the edge of psychosis, wallowing dangerously in the pools of mania, flirting all too seductively with the advances of insanity, because hadn't there been a time when she'd done the exact same thing?
People had the ability to change, and the human race was an infinitesimally driven species. Anything was possible, nothing was out of reach, and everything a person knew could turn around for the better or for the worst in the span of a minute.
And possibly the greatest thing about the human race is that they held the innate ability to adapt and assimilate.
Deidara had changed, and this much Sakura was certain of. She'd changed, too, and from what she could tell, Kisame had. They'd all benefited immensely from their meeting, no matter how rocky and rough first impressions had been.
He wasn't just the enemy anymore, and he wasn't just a killer. She would never be able to forgive him for what he had done, what she figured he'd never do again in the future, but that didn't mean that he didn't deserve another chance. They were mistakes on his part. Granted, they were terrible mistakes, but he'd suffered from them; he'd been delivered atonement, and she saw every day the impact of his past. It showed on his face, through his actions, through the way he spoke to her, other people, through the way he took her by the hand and smiled.
She was no one to judge him, but she'd be damned if she couldn't love him. There were dangers to being a shinobi—there were dangers to every career choice, as a matter of fact; there were abuses in every industry, and there was just no getting away from it—and this was one of them.
He was a good person. She wouldn't have fallen so hard for him if he wasn't, and that was why this situation was killing her. Her entire chest felt like it was going to implode on itself, because the time was looming nearer and nearer to when she'd have to say goodbye to him, and this time it was for good.
It had been difficult with Kisame, but she hadn't felt nearly the same for him as what she felt for Deidara. Parting with Deidara would be like…parting with a piece of her own life. If he wasn't with her, it felt odd: too quiet, too empty.
And that was why, when Deidara emerged from the bathroom, dressed, clean, his hair still damp from his warm shower, and brushing his teeth, Sakura burst into tears.
He blinked, obviously confused—she probably would be too—and tried to talk around the toothbrush and foam that lined his mouth. "What's wrong?" When she didn't answer, he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and touched her shoulder with his free hand. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head, tried to speak through her sobbing fit, and failed. She settled for clutching to his shirt, burying her face in his chest, her entire body shaking violently. Poor Deidara, poor her, poor everything. Here her world was again, breaking down and deteriorating for the second or third time around.
He pulled away from her only long enough to speed-rinse his mouth and toss his toothbrush in the sink, but he was back on the bed with her in less than a second, where she immediately crawled onto his lap like a small, lost child. And that was exactly what she was. She wasn't a virgin before Deidara, but she'd only actually been in love once before him, and that was with Sasuke. And look where that left her: Sasuke was dead, but even before that, he'd rejected and abandoned her. Now she was abandoning Deidara.
Actually, it was more of a mutual abandonment, but they were still leaving each other nonetheless.
He didn't talk, but she calmed down eventually, some three minutes or so later. He just stayed with rubbing her back, petting her head, threading fingers through the pink hair that she'd gained after washing out the dye.
When she did speak, he was focused only on her, and it made her heart absolutely ache. "I don't want to leave you."
The smile he gave her could very well have given her a strong case of the shakes again. He was so sad in that fleeting second, so helpless, but the expression melted away as soon as it had come. It changed instead to a slight frown, and he furrowed his brow. "You shouldn't make it so hard."
"Make it hard?" she demanded, squeaky-voiced and feeling significantly unthreatening. "What are you talking about?"
He pulled her full on top of him, and she found herself kissing him again, largely subconsciously. She was always finding herself doing things around him, new things, never rediscovering something or just reviewing.
When he broke the kiss, slowly, reluctantly, he brushed his lips over her temple. "I'm so glad I found you, Sakura."
"I found you," she corrected, leaning into him, closing her eyes, crying again, but quietly this time. He was a new experience in himself.
The moment when he pressed his smile against her cheek was, quite possibly, the most horrible and wonderful moment of Sakura's life. Horrible for the things she was about to live through, wonderful for the things she'd already lived through.
"I love being found," he said, almost inaudibly, and she couldn't help but kiss him again.
It was funny, in retrospect, how one event led to another, especially in direct relation to Sakura's life. There was a touch of irony to it, too. A war had dropped love into Sakura's lap, and alternately, this love had left her the bittersweet taste in her mouth that the war should have given her. Full circle, one complete cycle, everything was coming together so painfully, and Sakura almost thought she would really start believing in this cruel, infamous thing called fate.
So she wasn't surprised that tearful, almost-love confessions had led into unhurried touches, silent but heartfelt movements, skin on skin, and there was nothing shameful or guilty about it. For the first time, Sakura felt like she was at peace, like this was somewhere she was supposed to be. She wasn't doing someone a favor or acting out of impulse, she was doing this because she wanted to, they both wanted to, because it was, in essence, the ultimate form of connection, bonding, and it was as prolific a course of action in Sakura's mind as marrying him would be.
Deidara kept the mouths on his hands closed. He didn't use them to suck, nibble, or anything of the sort. He used his own mouth, though, pressing it to her own, to her neck, marking a path down her torso with soft kisses that barely tickled her. And when he was inside her, filling her, breathing heavily but holding back on the panting, Sakura couldn't not look at him, freshly washed blond hair falling in curtains over his shoulders. Even his eyelashes seemed endearing, whisper-soft against his cheeks, fluttering when a prick of pleasure made him wince. He caught her gaze once, and she looked away, embarrassed for some reason that he'd seen her watching him, but he'd taken her chin gently in one hand while the other steadied himself, palm planted flat against the mattress and his fingers curling into the sheets.
He'd kissed her and she came first, not long after that, a gentle shuddering, drawing her knees around his torso and arching slightly into him. He followed soon, and his hand dropped from her chin to ball into a fist on the bed, just above her head. He gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead heavily against her collarbone, and when all was said and done, he didn't pull off or out of her. They didn't fall asleep, but they lay like that, Sakura watching the ceiling fan spin slowly and Deidara watching the pulse in her neck thrum.
It would be a long time before they got up, cleaned themselves, and packed their belongings to leave. Deidara had "bought" a map along with a few other choice essentials, and he laid out said map for Sakura to see. He pointed out that they were just barely edging along the border of Grass, and also the place where they would be forced to part.
"I can take you as far as Grass's Southeastern border, but I can't step foot in Fire, yeah. It's too dangerous for me. It's been a long time, but I'm still recognized, especially in Fire and Sand."
She nodded and watched him ruefully as he rolled the map and replaced it in his pack. He handed Sakura her pack, stuffed to the brim with an extra change of clothes, spare kunai and shuriken, soap, shampoo and conditioner, and various other items. In addition to this, they'd both strapped all those small, hidden weapons to their bodies—kunai in the boots, shuriken at their hips, poison senbon strapped inside a protective wrap along their forearms. Deidara had a few months' supply of clay, and Sakura had restocked most of the must-haves of medical equipment.
They were ready to head out. Deidara had even readied the clay bird in a corn field a mile from the hotel.
With all their belongings together, the two set off, trekking in fifteen minutes' time to the patiently waiting bird. And once aboard, Sakura took the ample time to rest wearily against Deidara, arms around his waist, as he steered them right over Grass's unfortified borders and thick fields.
O O O
The very edge of Grass Country was coming into view with startling clarity, marked geographically by a large, green-tinted canyon. Vines spilled over the sides and moss grew lazily along the top, with intermittent sprinkles of flowers and tall grasses.
The weather, even, was practically ideal. It was overcast, but it was still warm when they flew close enough to the ground. It must have been a steady seventy degrees Fahrenheit. And still, despite the perfection of the day, a thick, smothering gloom lay fixedly over everything. As far as Deidara was concerned, the gods above could have descended right then, presented him with all of his previously pursued hopes and dreams—flawless precision in his art, absolute peace of mind, the promise of eternity and along with it supreme happiness, selfish things—on a silver platter, and he wouldn't bat an eyelash. What he wanted now was nothing the gods could give him; what he wanted now was nothing anybody could give him. He wanted what he couldn't have, desired, lusted, craved the thing that was most wont to slip through his fingers like water. His situation was such a romantic tragedy; his life was such a romantic tragedy.
There was never a time, Deidara realized, not once in his life, when he'd really won.
With a jerk at the clay bird's neck, he and Sakura began a steady, silent descent down, right on the other side of the canyon. The bird landed obediently and smoothly, lowering its belly to the ground to allow its passengers to disembark.
A veil of panic was quickly overtaking Deidara, kicking his adrenaline into gear and making his palms sweaty. This was it. This was it. This was what he'd foreseen from the beginning: Sakura's departure, leaving him alone, him never seeing her again, having to watch her walk away, this pain in his chest that was completely anticipated but it shouldn't have hurt this bad.
His mind was racing, desperate, fleeting thoughts running past him at a mile a minute. He wanted to grab her up in his arms and steal her away again, taking her someplace far away and safe. He wanted to hit something until his knuckles bled and the delicate phalanges in his fingers cracked and snapped and splintered like wood. He wanted to take all that clay he'd just bought and bring out the C3's, leveling forests and villages and greeting the sick satisfaction that would undoubtedly permeate his insides with a grim smile.
But instead, he watched Sakura, eyebrows drawn, jaw tight, as she adjusted her pack and straightened her shorts and skirt. This was it, he kept telling himself, repeating the phrase over and over again like a mantra. This was it, this was it, this was it.
His thoughts were still racing, coming together into a porridge of muddle and urgency. When she turned to him and smiled, gently, sadly, his heart abruptly backpedaled into the far wall of his ribcage. He wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for this. Neither of them were ready for this, no matter how much they thought to the contrary.
"Well," she began, looking down at her toes, scuffing the grass at her feet and rubbing her arm absently, "I should probably get moving. I'll be traveling well into the night if I want to get to Konohagakure before tomorrow afternoon."
He nodded, barely, the faintest hints of movement. He didn't like this. It felt too much like she was trying to offer closure, like she was trying to tie up all the loose ends, because Goddamn it, this was it.
"I--uh." She stopped herself short, looking back up at him, eyes so green and wide and frustrated, just like him. She didn't know what to do, but they both knew this was the end. This was where the curtains closed, the doors shut, the lights switched off. They'd taken their respective ropes, entwined them, and now they were at the end. Who knew how long it would take to undo all the knots? It certainly couldn't be done with a simple goodbye.
"Goodbye," she said, not missing a beat. She moved as if she were going to hug him, kiss him, maybe, but he didn't react to her at all, and so she kept to herself. He watched her swallow hard, lick her lips, nod, and then turn to go.
He couldn't find the presence of mind to say anything. Just say goodbye, Deidara, for fuck's sake! He was never going to see this woman again; she'd come into his life, touched everything within it, left a part of her with him that he'd never get rid of, and now she was leaving.
He watched her get farther and farther away, possibly still waiting for him to say goodbye, offer some form of valediction—any form of valediction—but still he said nothing. He was rooted to the spot. He hadn't even blinked. Thankfully, he was still breathing.
She started running, though no chakra was introduced. She was still hesitating, and he was still standing there, staring at her like a jackass, completely silent and falling apart at his very seams.
His heart gradually detached itself from his spinal column and moved back to its rightful place, where it proceeded to thump loudly and painfully, jarring each rib, pushing a lump into Deidara's throat, making his eyes water and his lips press together tighter. His toes dug into his sandals and his fingers into his palm, and when he bit the inside of his bottom lip so hard that it was honestly starting to hurt and possibly bleed, his legs decided to move.
The clay bird behind him raised its head lazily to stare at him, watching him sprint to where Sakura was still running at an awkward, unsure pace. His heart beat three times as fast as his feet thumped against the ground, and he gritted his teeth. Sakura finally realized that Deidara was behind her, and she stopped, turning to watch him run to her with a painfully hopeful expression on her face.
When he reached her, he was out of breath. He took heavy, dutiful steps toward her, panting, until he was close enough to throw his arms around her shoulders, pushing her head to his collarbone.
"Deidara?" she questioned, and her hands came up to grip his sides lightly.
He ran his hands from around her shoulders to ghosting along her arms, drifting to her elbows, touching her wrists, and when he knelt down on just one knee, something largely instinctual took over. His heart threatened to crawl up his esophagus and make a new home in the back of his throat, but he pushed all that aside, as well as removing his scope and staring up at Sakura.
One of his hands held his scope while his other held Sakura's hand gently, just by the fingers, though firmly. She watched him, waited, and he took a deep breath, then another, then another.
"Dei—"
"I—" He gaped out the word, taken aback by the raw sense of necessity zigzagging through his veins. His eyes never left hers, though she glanced from him to their joined hands once.
"What are—?"
"I need you to marry me." The words fell out of his mouth in a slur, a rush, a downpour of emotion that he had, up until now, generally kept under strict lock and key.
She looked like someone had just kicked her in the stomach. Likewise, Deidara's stomach dropped. Fast.
"I don't have a ring," he stated quickly, squeezing her fingers. He offered his scope to her and swallowed. "But I do have this. I, you know… It wasn't like I was planning to do this, you know?" He would have rubbed the back of his neck if both of his hands weren't currently occupied.
Gingerly, Sakura took his scope, holding it before her. She looked from it back to him, still on one cliché knee, several times.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, unsure what to do. It felt like the world was spinning on one unstable axis. "I—please marry me. Please. Anything for you to stay."
She broke on a sob, clenching the scope tight in her hand. "Oh, fuck."
Despite the circumstances, despite the fact that he felt worse than how he'd felt during his first ever hangover, he managed a small, weak laugh. "So…yes?"
"No."
The smile he'd once worn, certain she'd accepted him and that they were about to fly right the hell back to where they'd started, faded. The sensation of his heart pushing on his lungs came back, as well as the prick of tears in his eyes. He attributed this to allergies, though, because Grass Country tended to do that to him. "No?"
"I can't. I'm so sorry. I can't, Deidara."
The desperation was back, as well, though really, it had probably never left. He rose from his knee, dropping her hand in favor of threading his own hands into his hair and tugging hard. "You're blind, yeah. How are you not seeing this?"
She held the scope to her chest. "See what?"
"I can't just…leave you! You can't just leave me! We can't just leave each other, Sakura!"
"It's not like I want to!" she defended, tears falling down her cheeks at a steady rate. Her voice cracked and she sniffled. "But I don't have a choice."
"Bullshit you don't have a choice." He thumbed away a tear of frustration—allergies. He was allergic to some ragweed growing around here or something. "You always have a choice, yeah. That choice just never seems to work out in my favor."
"Don't do this, Deidara. Don't make it difficult."
"Well, look at the pot calling the kettle black," he snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I can't fucking win, can I?"
"Don't do this," she repeated, closing her eyes tight and still hugging the scope. "Please don't."
"You know what?" he said, and his voice had escalated to a steady shout. All of the hurt was slowly festering into anger, clouding over his head and making him feel restless. He paced in front of her. "Forget I said anything, yeah. Forget I asked you to marry me. Forget I asked you to spend your life with me."
"How can I forget that?" Her voice was soft, slightly defeated.
"Forget that I—that I offered you, no, asked you, wanted you, to be with me until we die. Just forget it!"
"I won't!"
He whirled on her, fists clenched. "Then why won't you just marry me?"
"I just can't!" she cried, looking him full in the face. "It would kill us both in the end!"
"I'm not afraid of death if I'm with you, Sakura!" He almost regretted the words as soon as he'd said them, because that very confession was what forced Sakura to weep. And besides that, he wasn't usually one to convey his emotions so clearly. It was almost a blow to his ego. He continued, much softer, "I don't know why you can't understand that."
She mumbled something incoherent, and he waited for her to regain her breath before asking her to repeat herself.
"I love you," she said, wiping her eyes. "I said I love you. You have no idea how much I love you. I want to marry you, but I can't."
He stared at her for a moment, feeling the anger ebb back into sorrow, and his arms hung heavy at his sides. "Don't lie to me," he whispered, and he was glad that she didn't hear it.
"I'm sorry," Sakura said, her voice quiet and sounding strangled. "I'm not going to forget you or anything you've said. I promise you, Deidara. I won't. I don't care if you forget about me or get over me or whatever, but I can't do that with you."
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Kisame's words were suddenly filling his brain, making him want to just grab her and run away. Again. "Don't go after her," he'd said, but Kisame hadn't known how hard it would be for him not to. All he wanted to do was chase Sakura to the ends of the Earth.
"I'm going to keep my eyes closed, yeah," Deidara finally said. "When I open them again, you'd better be gone. If you're not, I'm taking you." He paused for a moment, letting the statement sink in. "And I'm not going to let you go this time."
He counted to thirty-five in his head, trying hard to concentrate more on the numbers than on Sakura's quick footsteps. A faint flare of chakra told him that she'd began to run faster, that she was finally gone.
He opened his eyes and stared at the empty space before him. From behind him, he could hear the clay bird approaching slowly, waiting for him to turn around and mount it.
"This is it," Deidara said, and he pulled a handful of clay from his bag.