Deidara went back to his room and smashed his fist against his desk. He barely noticed the pain that soared through his forearm. Even if Sasori was now dead, it still annoyed him greatly that the redhead was the reason he could no longer use Itachi to do the deed. If only there was some way to just get rid of him…completely.
He withdrew his fist and shook it, still oblivious to the redness that now spread across his knuckles. He was grinning now, because Sasori had looked positively at a loss back there. Deidara had won. But I can win more, he thought.
And Deidara didn't know it, but Sasori had been correct about one thing: that something inside Deidara had changed, and was now on its way to consume him. When one experienced hard times—and Deidara had had no shortage of those, what with the intrusion of Akatsuki into his life at a tender age, and Sasori's sexual games—they came back hardened, tougher, more resilient. Usually it was a good thing, because it meant that you were better prepared for future hard events, but for Deidara, it meant he was morphing into something…wrong.
Deidara nudged off his shoes and threw himself back on his bed, sighing, his arms outspread. He arched his back a little and felt a comforting crack. It was odd, but he felt happy knowing that now he had another assignment. Other than to seduce the crap out of Hidan of course.
No loss, no loss, he thought. It was only Hidan who was losing. His resistance was admirable, yet ultimately futile, because Deidara was one hundred percent certain that the Jashinist will keel.
Itachi stood there silently, processing the conversation he had just overheard. He had originally planned to step out when Deidara's distinct blonde hair swished into sight. Itachi had listened to his footsteps. He heard them pause outside Sasori's room, which no one had bothered to clear out yet, even though it still stunk of ashes. Kisame had had the courtesy to give it a little bit of a wash, because the flecks of ash had been floating around the room for days and was starting to infest the rest of the Lair. Itachi wondered for a moment if it seemed disrespectful, but then he realized Sasori probably didn't care much, considering he was—
"Itachi Uchiha," someone hissed. "I know you're there,"
Of course I'm here, Itachi thought. It's my room. But he walked out anyway and, without turning his head, looked sideways down the hall. Sasori's semi-transparent ghost was actually frightening in the gloom. If Itachi wasn't Itachi, he would have turned and run away. Recoil at least. But he had been the one brought along Sasori's death, and ironically it made him more resistant to Sasori's …remnants. The redhead's right cheek was hollow, and he looked broken, just like one of his own puppets. Itachi felt an ounce of regret, and even felt a little bit guilty. But then he recalled that there was actually some truth to Deidara's story, even though the second time round it wasn't actually rape.
Sasori stared at him. If looks could kill, Itachi might've been permanently crippled in many places. There was a definite crackle of hatred in the dusky air between the two, but Sasori was the sole generator. Itachi was looking back expressionlessly, not oblivious to the charge in the air. He was undeterred, but he wasn't stupid. The two allowed silence to seep in. Then Sasori spoke up.
"I know you heard he and I talking,"
Even in death, he sounded imposing. He was unable to do anything, touch anything in the physical world, but there was a steely firmness in his voice. Itachi had noticed it when he was talking to Deidara…and he'd also noticed that it dropped significantly as the conversation proceeded.
"So what do you think of your little, innocent brat now?" Sasori went on, obviously trying to sound calm. Itachi said nothing again. The story of Deidara exploiting his skills and power had allowed Kisame to make a few quips when Itachi least expected it, and it had annoyed him to some extent, but he offered no reaction. Even Zetsu and Pein had said something at some point. Black Zetsu of course had wasted no time to comment on Itachi's sudden gullibility. Even Kakuzu said nothing, probably out of respect for the Uchiha. So…what did he think of Deidara? Did he hate him? Or did he just not care? After all, he had little remorse for killing to begin with. Why should Sasori be any different?
"He sounds different," Itachi said, changing the direction of the conversation. Sasori had been attacking Itachi before, basically telling him what an idiot he was for falling for Deidara's act, but now Itachi was trying to bring Sasori to agreements with him. Kind of like a truce.
Sasori's eyes relaxed. "I suppose," he said, easing back to his usual doleful stupor. He didn't want to admit that he felt threatened and even jealous of the sudden growth in Deidara, so he said no more.
Itachi waited a moment, thinking to himself.
"I should not have killed you,"
Sasori snorted.
"Not for the reason that you were innocent," Itachi said. "For sure, you were guilty of something. If it was not for that, Deidara would never have cooked this up,"
Sasori's gaze intensified again. His eye socket had sunk a bit, and he looked horrifying to the normal person.
"But for the reason that he is now someone he should not be," Itachi continued. He didn't know what he was saying. He sounded like he—
"You care about his wellbeing?" Sasori spat. "He is no relation of yours. You've grown soft, Itachi,"
Itachi's eyelids lowered. "Perhaps I have,"
Sasori was slightly surprised by this show of vulnerability, but he continued.
"I admit," he said, the acid in his voice ebbing away. "That he is becoming somewhat of a threat,"
"Is this not what Akatsuki is about? Perhaps we can use this new emergence of power to our advantage,"
"Pein will not allow such petty techniques,"
"Then what do you propose?" Itachi asked, unsure of what his answer was going to be. Sasori sniffed haughtily and gave Itachi the same looks he gave Deidara so often when he thought the Iwa nin was asking a dumb question.
"We have to stop him... of course,"