Chapter 1

The wooden planks in the room shuttered with every paced step. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Mahogany boots thudded to a stop.

"This is the third time, Deidara!" The scolded nineteen year old glanced up from his prison of a chair. His sky-blue eyes gazed reproachfully into the auburn ones of the man standing in front of him. The two held a smothering glace, before the elder of the two growled and turned to the village official behind them. Stepping close, he uttered, "I'll be sure to reprimand him sir," He threw another menacing look at the defiant teen. "He'll get what he deserves." The official stared at the two men, his mouth set in an iron frown.

"So be it." He thundered, gathering his armor, and trudging heavily toward the shabby exit. "This has been your LAST warning, Akasuna." With that, the small shop's door slammed shut, shaking all the walls. The air in the room remained stagnant and sharp, the shop's old sounds of wear creaking around the two. Neither of them wanted to speak of their current state. A long intake of breath. Deidara glanced up, his face worried.

"Sasori..." The man standing ran a hand through his fiery red locks, a sigh escaping out of his bent torso. The redhead slowly shuffled to a table with small tools and sawdust littering it's top.

"Its Sasori NO DANNA..." he sat down, "...to you." The teen's heart sank, and his blue eyes glanced down. He sighed as well, feeling the atmosphere of the room pulling on his shoulders. He knew how bad things were. That's why he tried to steal in the first place. He lifted his arm and released the few coins in his hand. They spun, clinked on the surface of the table. Deidara sighed. He glanced around the room, taking in all of his master's work. Delicate, intricate works of art, assembled in many fashions, strings attached. Sasori considered his puppets and dolls "art". When deidara had first heard him say it, he laughed right in his face.

"You make dolls for a living? HA! How in the world is that ART?" The exuberant fourteen year old couldn't believe it. "Dolls!" The twenty-nine year old man growled, closing his shop's front door.

"Listen, brat. I'm saving you from those filthy streets! You take a liking to art, and I need an apprentice." His warm, chocolate eyes deadpanned as he watched the blonde hair of the boy fly this way and that as he ran about the gallery. "This is my art- creating life from my mediums that will live on forever!" The man actually had a sparkle in his eye for a moment. " My beautiful works are all unique, and each will be appreciated for years to come!" A smile appeared on his usually blank face. "That is what art is! Eternal! Even to this day," he gestured to his puppets," My grandmother's art has been living on through me." Deidara had stopped running around, and had planted himself in a wooden chair across the room. Sasori glanced at him, prepared to speak more, when the younger cut him off.

"BORING." The man's hand directly made contact with his face.

"Brat..."

He swallowed hard. Over the years, they'd grown quite close, even to first-name standards. Sasori had spent countless evenings trying to teach the reckless teen how to do his craft, but Deidara could never do it. Usually the sessions would begin fairly, and slowly progress into frustration, yelling, the breaking of wood, and screaming, silence and then ultimately laughter. Mostly just Sasori's jests at his red-faced blubbering student. Deidara looked at his stressed master. Tonight was not one of those nights.

"Danna..." Sasori's head lifted a bit, signifying his half-hearted attention. Deidara bit down his nerves. "We can't go on like this...can we?" Sales had been nearly nonexistent and Sasori knew it. They both did. The economy had taken it's heavy toll. The town's people could barely afford essentials, let alone decorations and trinkets. Sasori sighed, lifting himself out of the chair. He walked toward the front door, and locked it tightly.

"I don't know." Was his stale reply. He was well aware that their leader was new, and that -hopefully - the economy would pick itself back up again, now that the country's income drains were dead. He just didn't know how long they'd be stuck where they were until that miracle finally occurred. His stomach clenched tightly, and the man turned around to face his young...whatever he was. Sasori had taken Deidara in because he felt bad for the boy. Sasori knew the blonde would be perfect - he could see the spark of ambition in his blue eyes. The kid was definitely a brat, but nonetheless a good worker. They had grown a bond over the past five years, and now Deidara wasn't just a legacy anymore (however great a legacy he would have been with his lack of talent). He was more like family - something Sasori didn't have. Even Sasori's title of "Master", "Danna", had become more of a sentiment than anything. His dark, bored-looking eyes met Deidara's vibrant blue ones, and a knot formed in the man's stomach. Deidara was fidgeting, his worry increasing. Sasori's silence was becoming eerie. The room's atmosphere seemed heavier. The blonde stood, his long blonde hair flowing left and right.

"What's wrong...Danna?" The redhead sighed heavily, fighting with himself. He reached a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache approaching. Sighing again, Sasori began,

"As you know..." he swallowed, hoping the teen wouldn't blow up on him. "The princess is now queen, and the castle is in need of a new, fresh staff to ensure no connections with the previous reign. Deidara listened to his master's dwindling voice, his nerves building up again. "The royal court has requested for young, healthy, educated villagers to be sent for possible positions." Deidara's brain felt like mush, so he lowered himself back into the chair. Sasori turned, leaning against his work table, not wanting to look his apprentice in the face. "We can't live like this. You're right." The redhead closed his eyes. "I've brought you up well, and you are educated..." Deidara's eyes widened. "I signed you up to go work in the castle. They are coming to get you in the morning..." The room wa silent, and Sasori felt as if he had just kicked the boy he found all those years ago right back out into the dirty world. Deidara stood, his face straight and hard. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his explosive anger in check (he was notorious for blowing up). Sasori turned to look his friend in the face.

"You're young, Dei. You have your whole life ahead of you. That is a much better place to be living in at the moment, and I have faith they'll accept you." The man placed his hand on the teen's slumped shoulders. "Please...just listen to your master for once." Deidara met eyes with his teacher. They were hollow and dark. For a split second, he even thought he saw a glint of wetness.

"Danna can't cry..." His mind knew better.

"Yup. I've got no tear ducts." The young Dei pouted at his teacher. The grown man stared lethargically back at the kid, his brown eyes dormant and bored looking. "Never have cried, never will." With that, he turned away from the boy, and started back on stitching his hand shut after another of Dei's "explosions".

The teen watched as his makeshift family member removed his hand, and slowly began to climb up their rickety staircase. His heart clenched. "What about you?" Sasori stopped. Deidara ran to the foot of the stairs. "Danna...you can't live this way either..." The blonde's ears perked at the sound of his master's heartless chuckle.

"I'm used to this shit, Deidara. I'll survive, don't worry." Deidara didn't move as he watched his master-friend-father-family disappear into creaky darkness.

"In the morning..." His voice sounded quite empty as it bounced off everything in the room. The teen ran a hand through his long hair and his foreign legs brought him to the small, dusty window above their tool cabinet. His eyes automatically fell on the castle in the distance upon a hill. It's white walls glittered from it's surrounding torchlight. Hie eyes glittered just the same. "So beautiful..."His mind wandered for the rest for the night.

"Why did Sasori keep me around this long anyway...? I can't make puppets..." "Will she be pretty...?" "Will she be ugly?" "What "job"will i get?" "Hopefully not a soldier..." "I could make them art!" "No...they probably don't need it..." "Please don't make me a soldier..."

The teen fell into sleep where he was: his favorite chair in his makeshift home. His thoughts had finally gone silent for the night.