Chapter Text
Deidara had spent enough time around other shinobi teams to figure out that the feelings he held towards his own partner were… not the standard.
It hadn’t always been like that. He’d denied it for a long while now, in fact. Continuously made excuses to explain away his feelings and behaviour.
He would refer to him as ‘danna’ out of respect, nothing more. Wasn’t that natural, normal to hold such a level of respect for one’s shinobi partner? It didn’t mean anything, nothing at all. I mean sure, he’d never referred to anyone else that way before, but things were different in the Akatsuki. It wasn’t exactly the standard.
Yet again, another excuse.
Of course, he thought of Sasori quite frequently, but wasn’t that natural too? They worked together every single day, travelled and lived together. So of course his image would be permanently ingrained in his mind, never leaving his thoughts for long. I mean, didn’t all shinobi think of their teammates constantly? It was part of the job, right?
And besides, most shinobi didn’t have partners who looked nearly as striking as Sasori did. It would be stranger for him not to think of him, surely.
I mean, it was true that his partner seldom left his puppet shell, almost never when they were on actual missions or in the company of others, though thoughts of his true form were never far from his mind despite how rare such glimpses could often be. And he would never admit just how much he looked forward to those fleeting moments when he would be able to see his Akatsuki partner’s true form.
And yes, he savoured any moments they had together, be it on missions or the downtimes between. It was better when they were alone, when they could talk about their art together freely, share their alternate views without needing to worry about what others may think. When Sasori felt comfortable enough to show his true self, and Deidara could block out the rest of the world entirely.
But it was only because he was a fellow artist. The only one he knew, the only person he could talk about his art to and have a proper discussion, a debate. Not be brushed off and ignored as he always was, heard out even if disagreed with. It didn’t mean anything, ultimately.
But again, he hid his own feelings. Lied to himself. And eventually, it reached the point at which he could no longer keep up his facade.
He wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened, when he finally found himself unable to keep up the lie, unable to keep pretending and blocking out his own feelings. Perhaps it had been the first time he had to save Sasori on a mission, pull him away from a dangerous situation by sweeping in to carry him off the battlefield upon a great clay bird. Or perhaps it had been much simpler than that, during a quiet moment they had shared, working together inside a makeshift cave workshop on a rainy day, discussing the other Akatsuki members and sharing details of their own pasts with each other. He didn’t remember, exactly.
Whenever exactly it had been, he had refused to lie to himself about his feelings for him ever since.
Still, he often wondered when it had all started – his feelings for Sasori. It would be all too simple for him to say it was when he had first laid eyes upon his true form, when he had first stepped out of Hiruko.
But even before that, he’d felt himself drawn to him, somehow. He’d known all along that Hiruko was not his true appearance – his trained artist’s eye could immediately detect the lack of human anatomy present within that puppet shell he always wore. The puppet could hardly be described as inviting, it’s creepy appearance and deep, gravelly voice designed to be off-putting, but even from the moment they’d been assigned as partners, Deidara found himself enjoying his company.
Sasori was completely different to any shinobi he’d worked with back in his own village, in every way. He was grumpy, impatient and had horrifically poor views on what true art entailed – and yet, Deidara enjoyed his company very much. There was never a dull moment when they had worked together, not even from the get go.
His personality was so different from Deidara’s own, perhaps even his polar opposite, and they often got on each other’s nerves, especially early on. However, whenever it came time for them to get serious, their synergy and teamwork was flawless, their fighting styles complementing each other’s seamlessly. Supposedly even Pain himself was surprised at the success of the new duo. Apparently Sasori’s previous teammate had a far less successful relationship with him.
Right – Orochimaru, that was his name. The mere mention of the snake sannin’s name could get a reaction out of Sasori, the way few things ever could. Hiruko’s tail would coil up with rage, or he would clench his eyebrows into a frown. For someone so intent on becoming as cold and emotionless as he possibly could, it was even more noticeably different to his usual demeanour. Sasori seemed to hate Orochimaru even more than Deidara hated Itachi.
The duo devoted much of their time to spying on Orochimaru, attempting to take him down. Deidara had never met the snake sannin himself, but found himself growing to dislike him merely from watching the affect his betrayal had on Sasori.
If he were to dispose of Orochimaru himself, perhaps he would even be able to see Sasori smile. A true, genuine smile, not one of his smug little smirks he’d give after a shinobi proved weaker than his expectations, or he’d managed to snag a new powerful kekkai genkai for his puppet collection. A smile of affection, of warmth, of appreciation.
But it was a pointless endeavour. He knew that much. After all, Sasori was not human, to have simple emotions, reactions and feelings such as those. He had no warmth. He would never feel warmth, or affection.
Of all the people in the world he could have fallen for, he chose the single one who would never feel anything for him back. That was simply how it was, his poor stroke of luck.
Though Deidara knew he was far from attractive – not in the same league as the likes of Itachi, Konan or Sasori, far from it – he also knew that he was good-looking and powerful enough to be able to find himself a nice shinobi to settle down with should he ever want to.
Of course, being in the Akatsuki did complicate matters somewhat, but even then, they would run into non-shinobi on their missions all the time. He had plenty of time to meet others, should he want to. Chances are, the Akatsuki leadership would be none the wiser, and not care in the slightest if they even did find out. So long as he completed his missions without fail, that was all Pain seemed to care about. What the Akatsuki members did in their free time was entirely up to them.
But Deidara never cared to meet other shinobi. It was irrelevant to him. The only one he cared for was right in front of him, each day. Right before his eyes, and yet completely unattainable.
For Sasori was not a human. He only resembled one, acted as one. But deep down, he was simply a doll. Entirely constructed out of wood, humanity removed. Even if he looked human, seemed human, he wasn’t. He never would be, never could be, remaining a hollow shell of who he once was.
He’d freed himself of all his emotions and feelings, as he so often announced. To have such things made him weak, had only held him back. And Sasori wanted to dedicate himself entirely to his art. He had no room for anything else.
Perhaps he could admire such a mentality, even if it did go against everything he’d ever stood for. Deidara could never imagine himself doing such a thing – his emotions were what fuelled his art, what motivated him to keep on creating. But as always, they were polar opposites in so many ways.
Maybe it was that feeling of respect, then, which held him back. Which stopped him from ever telling Sasori how he truly felt. Or maybe it was the feeling of hopelessness, of knowing that ever if he did, he would only be met with disappointment, of confirmation that his feelings would forever remain unrequited. Or maybe he was simply a coward, who lacked the courage to be honest with himself for so long and who now lacked the courage to be honest with the only one he’d ever loved.
It didn’t matter, in the end, what held him back. The only thing that mattered is that he did. And that he never had the chance to reveal how he truly felt, before the end.
It had all happened so quickly. They’d been assigned a mission to capture the one-tail, who resided within the jinchuriki Kazekage of Sunagakure. It was Deidara’s first time visiting the Hidden Sand, which he knew to be the village from which Sasori originated. His partner did not seem keen to return, though he could relate to such a sentiment. He’d always hated assignments which positioned them too close to Iwagakure, his former home. It held bad memories for him. Perhaps it was the same for Sasori.
Though, perhaps not to such an extent. After all, Sasori didn’t really seem like the sentimental sort, the type to let himself be bogged down by feelings from a past long forgotten. He couldn’t quite imagine him letting his emotions get the better of him. That was something he would scold Deidara for doing.
The mission had begun without issue. Well, without too much issue. Sasori’s spy had allowed them to enter the village successfully, and Deidara had won his match against the jinchuriki without too much difficultly. Sure, it had cost him his arm, but that could be replaced. They’d completed their task, and successfully extracted the one tail.
It was later when things had started to fall apart. It had begun when Deidara had made the decision to fly off on his own, using the one-tail as bait to try and capture the nine-tails. Sasori had specifically warned him against doing so, told him not to be greedy and stick to their quota. But he hadn’t listened, of course. The challenge of capturing two jinchurikis was simply one which was far too appealing for him, a chance for him to prove himself, to gain the recognition he so desperately craved.
But flying out of that cave on his own, failing to heed Sasori’s warning, was one of his gravest mistakes. It was one which had cost him everything.
The copy ninja had blown off his other arm during the pursuit which followed, rendering him all but useless in a fight. He’d already brought less clay than he should have – another thing which Sasori had scolded him for. And this was another setback, one so great it forced him into hiding.
And that was when he’d heard it first. The news of Sasori’s death, as he heard the enemy shinobi team discuss his partner’s demise. It took all his energy not to reveal himself then and there, throw himself into the fight and try to take down Sasori’s killers in one final stand. But he knew that would not achieve anything. It wasn’t exactly as if there was much he could do, as he was now. Without arms to fight with, to use his jutsu.
So… Sasori truly was dead, then?
Distracted, he soon found himself discovered by another team, who seemed to have come along on the mission along with the nine-tails and the two who’d taken down Sasori. He’d fought them off for a short while, to the best of his currently limited capability, before managing to detonate a clay clone and escape. Frustratingly, it was all he could do in his weakened state, but perhaps it was enough to convince them that he had been killed, allowing him the chance to live to fight another day.
Though, he wasn’t sure why he valued such a thing. After all, where was he to go now, that his partner had been taken down?
Deidara had never truly held any loyalty towards the Akatsuki. After all, it wasn’t even his choice to join in the first place. He’d been forced in against his will, a result of losing a bet against that insufferable Uchiha, a humiliating loss that had forced him into the rogue shinobi organisation.
He didn’t mind the missions, that much was true, but he couldn’t care less for their objectives, or whether they achieved them or not. To be honest, he didn’t even really know what they were trying to achieve. He didn’t pay attention to such things. So long as he could continue his art, that was enough for him. And the Akatsuki provided ample opportunity for him to work on his creations.
Still, had he the choice, he would much rather continue as he’d done before he’d joined the organisation. When he had the freedom to take on whichever job he chose to, could travel as he wished, and not have to deal with the presence of the Uchiha lingering over him wherever he went, a reminder of his own weakness.
No, when it came down to it, there was really only one thing which made the Akatsuki worthwhile, and that was Sasori. The one person who he’d ever thought could maybe, truly understand how he felt. A kindred spirit.
Perhaps he was simply projecting again. Sasori didn’t have the capacity for such things. Though, he did seem to truly care and have a passion for his art, it was different to the way he felt for it no matter how much he would think otherwise.
Sasori was not human. He wasn’t like him. And he would never feel like he did no matter how much he wished he would.
With Sasori gone, what would even happen to him? Deidara knew the Akatsuki rings held importance, and signified the wearer belonged to the organisation. If he were thinking straight, retrieving his own from the arm he’d lost should be his number one priority right now.
More to the point, what had happened to Sasori’s? How had he died? How could he even die? Deidara knew that even his immortal body had a weak spot, so supposedly his enemy had figured it out. But that would mean that the girl and the old woman had forced him to use his trump card, and he’d never fought using
himself before. So surely, that couldn’t be the case…
As he remained hidden within the bushes, two familiar figures came into view. The first was Zetsu, the strange humanoid plant-thing the Akatsuki employed as a spy. And the second was that insufferable kid, Tobi. The one who always hung around the Akatsuki for no particular reason, and seemed to take great pleasure in getting on Deidara’s nerves at every available opportunity.
Zetsu seemed to be scouring the battlefield, presumably looking for a trace of Deidara himself. Deidara knew it was probably wise to reveal himself now, if he ever wanted to see his arms again. Zetsu was often tasked with clean-up after missions, since he wasn’t strong enough of a fighter to complete them himself. Narrowing his eyes, Deidara could see one of his ripped-off arms in front of him, a glint of light revealing the ring still attached to the index finger.
“Found him! Or, a part of him.” Tobi ran over, picking up his arm and shaking it around childishly.
“Well, that makes two, I guess! So Deidara really did go and blow himself up in the end, I guess? I did always say he had it coming…”
Deidara gave a small frustrated grunt at Tobi’s comment, which he hoped hadn’t been too audible. Thankfully, neither seemed to have picked up on it. He stayed hidden in the bushes, listening to their conversation.
“Well, it seems you were right after all. What a shame, Kisame told me he was one of the stronger ones, too… At least he managed to capture his assigned jinchuriki before we lost him. And unlike with Orochimaru, we’ve managed to retrieve his ring, so perhaps we can find a replacement for him.”
Zetsu sounded somewhat bored, completely unaffected by Deidara’s supposed death, not that such a thing was entirely surprising to him. To be honest, Deidara hardly knew Zetsu himself, and they’d only spoken a couple of times. Such was the nature of the Akatsuki – they mostly stuck to their individual pairs and rarely met outside of the meetings.
“Oooh! Oooh! Can you let me choose who we recruit? Since, you know, they’re going to be my new partner and all? I want to choose someone with a really fun jutsu! Can I, can I, can I?”
Tobi was circling around Zetsu, buzzing with energy. Now that Deidara looked more closely, he could see Sasori’s old ring was now gleaming around his left thumb, silver contrasting against his black glove. Deidara winced at the sight – it felt so incredibly wrong to him. Proof without a doubt that his partner was indeed gone for good.
But this could not be how it ended, could it? No. He wouldn’t let it. Sasori always said he would live forever, that he was eternal, immortal. His flame couldn’t go out so simply, his life be so fleeting, Deidara wouldn’t let it.
What were even his options, now? He had no interest or care in returning to the Akatsuki, and most thought him to be dead. He could continue to lay low for the rest of his life, but he would forever be alone, until the end came.
Or, he could take matters into his own hands.
Even without arms, he had trained enough so he could sculpt some basic sculptures with only his mouth. Sure, they weren’t nearly as artistic as the ones he formed with his hands, not nearly as beautiful, but they were functional enough as to not leave him completely defenceless. With this in mind, he travelled back to the cave in which he’d left Sasori, where he’d made that fateful decision which had sealed both of their fates.
It hadn’t taken him long to identify Sasori’s body, even in the midst of the hundreds of fallen puppets which surrounded him. There had been some which he’d never even seen before mixed within the fallen. He wondered how long it had taken Zetsu and Tobi to find him, considering he doubted they’d ever seen his true face.
But in the centre, locked in the embrace of two puppets he’d never seen before, Sasori lay, face down into the ground. Deidara pushed him up with his legs, as softly as he could. Sasori looked at peace, he thought. Expression softly startled, though difficult to read as ever. He was splattered with what looked like blood, pierced through his heart by sharp blades. There was a crack on his face, as if he had been punched with extreme force, but it did nothing to detract from his beauty even now.
Deidara could do nothing except stare at him with sadness for a moment. He’d been too late. Too late to save him, too late to protect him, and too late to tell him how much he truly meant to him.
But this couldn’t be the way things would end, could it? He wouldn’t let it, not ever.
As he sat beside him, in that quiet, abandoned graveyard of puppets, he tried to think of his options. He wasn’t a medical ninja, didn’t even have the slightest idea how such things worked. Not to mention, Sasori wasn’t even human to begin with, and he’d been dead for several hours now.
There were jutsu which allowed the caster to sacrifice their own life for another, he knew. But he never had interest in learning such a thing – what was the point, exactly? Staring at Sasori now, he almost wished that he had. But there was no use dwelling on the past.
But perhaps… there was another option available to him. It was a long shot, a crazy, reckless idea even for him. A plan so unlikely to work, it almost wasn’t even worth trying at all. But what did he even have to lose at this point?
If Sasori were alive now, he would surely kill him for even thinking such a thing, let alone suggesting it. After all, what he was suggesting was nothing less than begging for assistance from his greatest enemy. It was perhaps the worst plan he’d ever conceived, and he’d thought of plenty of failed plans in the past. But he was desperate and out of ideas, and it was the only option he had if he ever wanted to see his partner again.
And so, gritting his teeth, he pulled the bleeding core out of Sasori’s lifeless puppet body, forming a clay bird to carry him and Sasori’s core towards his new destination. He held antidotes to the poison which Sasori brewed on him at all times, so he did not have to worry about accidentally poisoning himself, though attempting to carry such an object with no arms was admittedly a struggle. He hurled off what remained of his Akatsuki cloak, too, leaving it behind with the rest of Sasori’s fallen puppets, part of an era of his, of their lives which had now passed by.
Sasori had spoken in passing of a meeting that was to occur between him and a ‘Kabuto Yakushi’ on Tenshi Bridge. Kabuto was working for him as a spy, under the influence of a mind control jutsu which Sasori had developed, reporting Orochimaru’s movements to him as part of Sasori’s efforts to take him down. Every so often they would meet so Sasori could receive updates on the snake sannin.
Usually, Deidara would come along to said meetings. After all, he and Sasori would always complete their missions together, it was simply how the Akatsuki did things. But for some reason, Sasori was adamant that he keep well away from their next meeting, insisting he handled it alone. Deidara wasn’t sure his reasoning for such a thing, but he couldn’t help but feel insulted by it. Did Sasori think he was too weak to look after himself? Or too stupid to follow along with the topics of discussion?
Either way, it was irrelevant now. Sasori was gone, and Deidara remained. And now, the meeting on Tenshi Bridge provided him with the opportunity he needed to put his plan into motion. The final chance he had to see Sasori again.
Until the day of the meeting came, Deidara bided his time. He restocked his clay, and practised sculpting without the use of his hands. Keeping himself hidden was surprisingly straightforward, considering as far as everyone knew, he was dead. Granted, even when he was openly part of the Akatsuki, there were large swathes of the shinobi world within which he was never recognised.
The meeting on Tenshi Bridge had him feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He’d met Orochimaru before – he’d had the odd skirmish with him during the years he’d been partnered with Sasori, though it was Sasori who did most of the fighting. He’d always been assigned to watch from the skies, ordered not to get involved unless absolutely necessary, something which had always frustrated him.
Sasori was always trying to keep him out of the more difficult, more dangerous fights. He was stronger than Deidara was, Deidara openly admitted that. And yet, he’d been the first of them to fall, to an old woman and a little girl at that. It simply didn’t make any sense.
However, it was the very same skirmishes they’d had with Orochimaru which had given him the idea for the plan he was now attempting to carry out. During one of their fights, Orochimaru had used a rare jutsu to counter Sasori’s human puppets – one which could resurrect the dead, edo tensei. He had resurrected the Third Kazekage to fight against Sasori’s puppet equivalent, the edo tensei reincarnation proving far stronger than Sasori’s puppet. Deidara had to fly down to assist to ensure the puppet master had escaped from that fight with his life.
It was many years ago now, since that fight. Back then, the Kazekage had broken out of Orochimaru’s control, unable to be fully controlled. The reincarnation had not lasted especially long, either. But Orochimaru had become more competent at the jutsu since then, he remembered Sasori mention.
If there was anyone who stood even the slightest chance of bringing Sasori back, it would be Orochimaru.
The idea did admittedly weigh on his mind. If Orochimaru were to resurrect Sasori, he’d be reduced to a puppet in his service. But really, was that any different to their lives in the Akatsuki? Maybe Sasori was right all along, they were all just puppets in the end…
And besides, his desire to see his partner burned too strongly. He would worry about such things later. So long as they had each other again, that was the most important thing, wasn’t it?
Once the time of the meeting in Tenshi Bridge arrived, Deidara made sure to arrive with plenty of time to spare. Sasori hated to be kept waiting, after all. He would insist on making sure the two of them arrived early to any meeting they ever had, and complained bitterly whenever Deidara dragged his feet. When he’d been alive, Deidara had found it a rather infuriating habit, but now, it was only endearing to him. It was strange, the way perspectives would shift with changing events.
But to his surprise, he wasn’t the only one who’d come along to the meeting on the bridge – he could detect the presence of another shinobi team nearby. One had taken on the appearance of Sasori’s Hiruko puppet, and was seemingly attempting to contact Kabuto in Sasori’s place. He soon realised, to his horror, that the team who’d arrived were the same as the ones he and Sasori had encountered back in the Land of Wind. Did this mean that Sasori had given that girl his intel on Orochimaru? That he’d trusted them… before him?
He watched silently, keeping his distance. There was no point revealing himself now, nothing he could do against a full team of shinobi in his current state, even if he wasn’t completely defenceless. He could hear the noise of a battle, signalling things had turned sour. It wasn’t of great surprise to him, considering what he’d remembered of the nine-tails jinchuriki. Deidara also knew he wasn’t in fit state to return, especially if, as he’d suspected, considering the commotion he could hear even from such a distance away, that the jinchuriki had entered the fray.
There wasn’t much point in getting involved now, anyway. No, Deidara bided his time patiently, until the Konoha team were all fully distracted, to make his move. He now knew the location of Orochimaru’s hideout, and managed to sneak his way in. It was now or never.
Contrary to the beliefs of his partner, and most of the Akatsuki, Deidara could be extremely stealthy when he wanted to be. He just never had any desire to be. But now, he made himself quiet as a mouse as he moved silently through Orochimaru’s lair, attempting to locate his targets.
And thankfully, it wasn’t long before he came face to face with those whom he sought.
Kabuto was the first to move, lunging forward and clutching hold of him, kunai lifted to his throat. And Orochimaru stood right in front of him, an expression of intrigue and amusement on his snake-like face. Watching in the back was another figure who he did not recognise, but who looked unpleasantly familiar, eyes unmistakably marking him as an Uchiha.
“This brat is one of the Akatsuki, Lord Orochimaru. Sasori’s partner. I can’t believe he was stupid enough to come right to us, but I suppose that makes our job easier. Should I kill him?”
Kabuto was pressing his kunai blade into his neck, causing beads of blood to form. Deidara wondered if it was poisoned, like all of Sasori’s were.
Orochimaru was gazing directly at him, meeting his eyes and sizing him up, not speaking a word. It was unnerving.
“Please! I’m not a member of the Akatsuki any more, un. I left, can’t you see? No Akatsuki cloak, no ring.” He looked up frantically, though Kabuto continued to look towards him with a fierce suspicion.
There was still no response, so Deidara continued.
“I came to you to ask for your help, un. I just, I want to see Sasori again, and I thought, with your Edo Tensei, you could bring him back to life, right?” He pleaded desperately, meeting Orochimaru’s unmoving eyes.
“Hmm… And why exactly would I listen to you? Honestly, I was quite glad when I’d heard the news about Sasori. The leaf ninja did me a favour, getting rid of that miserable puppet…”
Kabuto smirked and dug his blade deeper into Deidara’s throat. He was obviously only waiting for Orochimaru’s signal now to finish him off.
“If you bring back Sasori, I’ll do anything you ask. We’ll have more information on the Akatsuki than you could ever hope to acquire! And Sasori has spies everywhere, un. We could help you take down the rest of the Akatsuki members if you wanted to. And I have a rare kekkai genkai too. You want rare and powerful vessels to transfer into, right? Well… you could take over my body next, if you wanted to.”
Deidara hesitated before the last part. He hated the thought of becoming a vessel for Orochimaru, losing his freedom and playing a part in helping him achieve immortality. But he hated the idea of never seeing Sasori again ever more, and he was desperate. He needed to convince him somehow.
“I already have my next vessel secured, I’m afraid.”
Orochimaru gestured towards the boy who was lingering in the shadows behind. Now Deidara could get a better look at him, he was without a doubt the brother Itachi Uchiha had mentioned to him before. He bore a strong resemblance to him, enough to make Deidara grimace as he was reminded of his defeat at Itachi’s hands once more.
And that’s when he remembered, he still had another card he could play.
“Wait! I-I know how to defeat the Sharingan! I know how to counter and defeat Itachi Uchiha!” Deidara blurted out quickly.
But it had done the trick, since Orochimaru seemed genuinely surprised at this revelation, even if his reaction was not as great as Deidara had hoped.
“Oh, so perhaps you aren’t quite as useless as you look. Still, that’s of no use to me now, since I have an Uchiha of my own, as you can see.”
“Wait!” The Uchiha boy unexpectedly chimed in, walking towards Deidara and looking him up and down.
“You know how to defeat Itachi? Then, that means, you know him? You worked with him, and you can tell me where he is.”
Deidara nodded quickly and without thinking too hard.
“I do, un. I’ve been training for years to take him down! There’s no one I hate more in this world!”
It was only after he spoke that he realised that perhaps saying such a thing to Itachi’s own brother was not the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it seemed to have done the trick, because he could see the Uchiha’s demeanour shift. Could it be that Itachi’s own brother despised him as much as Deidara did?
“Please. Bring back Sasori, and I’ll help you however I can. You have my word. I’ve cut off all ties to the Akatsuki, and as you can see I’m in no position to fight back. All I ask is that you let me see him once more, and I promise that both of us will serve you loyally. You were Sasori’s former partner, so you know how skilled he is. With the two of us on your side, we can be of great help to you.”
The Uchiha now turned to face Orochimaru.
“Let him live. I want him to train me to fight the Sharingan so I can take on Itachi. And I’m sure you can find a use for him and that Sasori, too. Unless you’re afraid they might pose a threat to you?”
Orochimaru twisted his face into a smile.
“As you wish. Perhaps this could be quite interesting, after all...”