Lemons

"Bitter Heart."
.

Tobi would continue with the Eye of the Moon plan.

Madara believed he had power over him? The fool was dead. Tobi had no intention of allowing a dead man control him. Tobi was well aware he was being used to carry out the other's dreams. But those dreams were now his dreams. It was only a matter of time before everyone would fall under his genjutsu. Only then could true peace exist.

Deidara had been an insignificant pawn in his path to universal domination. Now he did not think he could stomach that thought. Deidara was no tool, not anymore. Those pools of icy water struck him every time, never calm or quiet. His eyes said everything. Deidara was the manifestation of thrill, rage, and fervor. Tobi wanted it, all of it.

Maybe it started soon after his prime arrival at the Akatsuki base while he was dragged kicking and screaming in outrage. Out of all the members to join, he was the only one too display such strong revulsion after his defeat in combat. Beads of sweat trickling down the side of his young, rounded face, small chest heaving, and a blush on his cheeks like an episode of dawn. Deidara was a beautiful creature, even then. A rogue with such exotic blue eyes, as if gems filled with wonder and sublimity. He was so young, barely an adolescent. As if age was just a number, he carried such a boldness in him, such confidence in his art.

Tobi had watched from a safe distance away, ignored as usual by the organization, save for Zetsu. Back then, Tobi felt the pull. He tried to disregard it, believed he was successful in doing so, even. This was where he failed. Never realizing it, Tobi had begun to pay a considerable amount of attention to the terrorist.

It may have started well before they were assigned as partners, while Deidara and Sasori had been paired to work together. The puppet master had clearly been sickened by the other artist's ideals. Of course when they began accepting each other, Tobi began feeling prickles of green like the spikes of a juniper bush. That was fine, he could ignore that. However, soon the minor prickles began mutating to pokes, then jabs, and then they finally stabbed right through. The ridiculous jealousy was another hindrance to his plans, so it needed to be demolished. That was his decision, but the resentment never did go away. At least, not until Sasori had lost his 'eternal' life.

Or perhaps it all started when Deidara had first said 'Tobi'. Or when he lost his arm. Or his elbow. Tobi could fetch his elbow from the other dimension, where Kakashi had sent it, but that was a risky move. Or maybe it started when Deidara had gone into hysterics, screaming about art and explosions. Or when he glared vehemently at Itachi, hateful words pouring out his plump lips, yet eyes betraying him and his fascination for the Sharingan. Or when Tobi ultimately accepted the overwhelming aura of the man's proud, beating heart.

Tobi now had to make a wise decision. Should he choose to embrace these feelings for Deidara, or vanquish them and continue as if they never existed? He could not let this lone, weak boy bring him down. Deidara was no longer a catalyst; he was an obstacle. That was that. The bomber was a complication that needed removing.

Tobi stopped walking.

...This ache in my chest.

These wicked, bitter thoughts, ones he should be comfortable with, they were hurting him. Tobi let things get too far.

The other Akatsuki member must have noticed his lack of movement, because a vivid, blue eye was suddenly focused on him.

Tobi was cracking, slowly, day by day. If he didn't get his act together, the plan would be foiled and Deidara would grow suspicious. It would be the beginning of the end.

Despite having such profound desires, Tobi knew he was reaching dangerous territory. To yearn for Deidara would only shroud him in more hatred. Because hope, it did not exist.

Through the single hole, he silently gazed at Deidara's soft skin and brilliant eye. As if a fairy tale, a soft breeze chose the appropriate moment to gust the golden hair with a gentle force. How could such a ruthless, obstinate mercenary exhibit such delicate beauty?

This was not enough, it never would be enough. Tobi wanted more than glimpses and occasional touches. What he craved for was to wrap an arm around those smaller shoulders, whisper words of promises he intended to keep, and run his fingers through blond strands. Just a touch, skin on skin. Sometimes Tobi would skid his toes upon the other, revelling in the brief touch, as if a sin. It was a personal transgression, but he could not find himself to care. Yet this uncaring attitude made him care. The plan would be ruined. And once again, he couldn't care less if it meant having Deidara. It was the start of a cycle. He was confused and bitter.

"What are you doing?"

Oh, that voice. Not nearly as sonorous as his own, but it was there. Tobi's dark as night, his as bright as day. The resonant tone caressed not the air, but the skies themselves. Like the velvet of clouds, he spoke with the unexpected smoothness from an irregular texture. Deidara was the personification of the wild blue yonder. He was untouchable.

Tobi didn't say anything, frowning behind his mask. Drowning in sorrow once again, it seemed. He would never have Deidara. That was – that was fine. He was fine. If only he could stop his breaths from shaking.

Deidara was an obstacle.

These feelings did not exist.

Deidara was an obstacle.

It was a mantra.

Knowing his comrade would never see it, Tobi wore a grim smile.

The arsonist had his hands on his hips, furrowing his brows together. Tobi's chest clenched when he heard him ask, "Tobi?"

It hurt because Deidara sounded worried, not just confused or annoyed. The boy wasn't supposed to care; he was making this harder for him.

This pain was different. It was not the pain of having your loved ones ripped apart from you. It wasn't from betrayal. This was the wound he would have to suffer, one that screamed at him time and time again. It will never be yours. There is no hope.

And this is when he realized his fury was stacking, stone by stone. But he was Tobi, an Uchiha destined to surpass Madara himself, so he remained calm. By shoving away the raging fire into the back of his mind, he could continue his performance. So he did,

"Ah – ha, sorry, sorry! I'm just tired and thirsty," Tobi laughed, but even to him, it sounded dry... hollow. He was no idiot, nor was Deidara. Tobi knew he was breaking, and soon, Deidara would too.

"You sure sound like it, hm," Deidara sighed, focusing his attention back on the the forest trail, "For once I agree with you, we should find a place to eat."

"Oh! I just remembered! I've been here before, senpai! There's a kind, old man who sells wonderful drinks just up ahead! They're so good it makes me dizzy!"

"We're not getting drunk, Tobi!"

The older man threw an arm over Deidara's shoulders, shaking his head, "No, no. He makes juices and flavoured milk! Boy, oh boy, I'm already getting thirstier. Hmm, unless you want some sake. It's okay if you do, senpai. Sometimes – ."

"Shut up!" Deidara shoved Tobi away from him, "And get your stupid hands off me!"

"But, senpai – ."

"I said shut up!"

Tobi found leisure in how authoritative and assertive Deidara was towards him. It was somehow humorous, because behind that swirly, orange mask, Tobi held true power over the man. What he loved the most was that this was the boy's essence. He could care less about who you were - in his eye, those who appreciated his art deserved his respect. Even if Deidara were to find out about his identity – and nothing got out of hand – Deidara would still look at Tobi the same way. Perhaps that was why he grew more addicted to his senpai with each passing day. The mercenary treated everyone the same, no matter their strength.

One day, his confidence would get him killed.

Would Tobi watch him die and see him escape from this hell? Did Tobi want to meet him in the new world he would create? Or keep him here, in this loathsome place?

To protect.

The taste of blackberries lingered on his tongue.

The dark haired man sat outside on the grass, head tilted up to stare into the clear skies. Deidara's eye twitched. Tobi's right leg was stretched out, foot rocking side to side in irregular patterns. It was such a minor, miniscule, completely unimportant detail to notice, but it pissed him off! Everything about Tobi was aggravating. From the stupid, swirly, orange mask, to the pale toes slipping out of his sandals – all of it got under his skin. Pricking and prodding under his skin, like a sculptor who was using metal tools to etch in finer details.

"Would senpai teach Tobi how to make art?" he spoke, voice cracking through their silence and startling Deidara.

Tobi wanted to do something artistic? The question was so out of the blue, it shocked even him, the master of, ahem, "surprises".

Deidara would like to see the twerp become enlightened by the allure of detonation. If not that extreme, maybe even simply creation and expression. It was always nice to see someone respect artistic form, whether it be explosive or not.

Did Tobi want to learn how to blow things up? Or to make sculptures? Neither one was happening, not anytime soon. If the brat ever got his hands on even a baby C1, Deidara would have to clean up whatever sticky situation Tobi would throw them in. The guy was a klutz, and that was putting it lightly. Imagine a gorilla given freedom in a ceramic shop. Just think about it for a minute. Now, add a horrendously destructive bomb into the mix. Deidara would never allow his art to be manhandled by a kid! Explosions needed to be performed with grace and not haphazardly like Tobi was bound to do.

Although Deidara kind of liked the thought of Tobi producing art, the idea was more laughable than plausible. The guy never took anything seriously, nor did he ever truly appreciate the addictive beauty art was. He'd mess up. Any clay in his hands would turn to waste. Tobi was a disappointment, after all.

The bomber smirked, thinking he'd humour the poor guy, "Maybe later."

Tobi said nothing, evoking a still silence, one that felt cold and dead. It dropped something down his gut. When did anything ever feel cold with Tobi around? The guy was a walking ball of sunshine! Something must have happened. Deidara was about to break the silence, but Tobi beat him to it,

"Okay, senpai," he said.

That was it? No yelling in gratitude or complaining with impatience? A mundane "okay"? Something was clearly wrong with Tobi today. He was quiet for a change, moody even. Deidara could practically see the dark cloud hovering over Tobi's head, for crying out loud! Maybe he missed Zetsu or something.

Deidara glanced at his cloaked figure, eyeing the filled cup at his side. He hadn't even taken a sip of his drink yet. Wasn't he whining about thirst only an hour ago? He huffed, "I thought you said you were thirsty, hm!"

Tobi jolted, flailing his arms, "Ah! I'm so sorry senpai!"

Of course, the idiot had to dramatize everything for no reason. Deidara watched as he calmed down, hands lowering and head turned away. Tobi whispered, "The truth is..."

The truth? Deidara's eye glowed alongside his curiosity, what truth? Hell, he'd be the biggest liar – between every rogue shinobi out there – if he said he didn't want to know about the mysteries of Tobi. All of the other members in the Akatsuki had their secrets, but none hid theirs as much the man behind the swirly, orange mask did. Deidara licked his lips.

"The truth is..." Tobi had repeated, trailing off and twiddling his thumbs, "Is..."

Come on, come on, just spill it out all ready! Maybe Tobi had a hideous face and was shy, so he didn't want to lift up his mask to drink. Or maybe he was nearing his death day because of some side effect to a super rare bloodline. Maybe Tobi had amnesia. The possibilities were endless! Deidara wasn't stupid; their leader wouldn't accept anyone into the Akatsuki unless they were worthy and would provide aid. Tobi had to be useful. Sure, the guy could morph underground and sometimes through trees, but Zetsu could as well. Tobi probably had some amazing jutsu that could only be used once, like the C0. But day by day, Deidara was beginning to throw away these ideas. Tobi proved to be more incompetent on every passing mission. How many times had Deidara saved his life? He'd lost count. If he wasn't there to save his sorry ass, Tobi would be a goner.

Tired of waiting for an answer, Deidara edged closer to his partner, "Well? What is it?"

Tobi inhaled, then cried out, "The truth is – ! I – I! I don't like lemon juice, it's too sour! I'm so, so, sorry senpai! I knew I should have asked for water, but you wanted lemonade so I thought I would get some too!"

That was bugging him? Damn it all, Deidara was really hoping for something more intelligent. Maybe Tobi really was just an idiot.

No surprise.

A bit peeved, Deidara sighed, "Sour drinks are good. They wake up your taste buds, hm."

"Gross, senpai. I like sweets," Tobi shook his head, mask jiggling, "Lemons are bitter."

Deidara would admit, there was some truth to that. The peel of the lemon was foul and tough to penetrate. Without argument, the peel was the worst part of a lemon, but it was also the most important. It served as protection for the nourishing – albeit sour – juices inside. He sipped the tangy drink, gazing at the shaggy, raven locks on top of that annoying head. If something was bitter, Deidara said,

"Then add sugar."