Akatsuki Rainbow: Red (Sasori x Deidara)

Chapter 7: Mortality

The infiltration of the sand went well. Sasori and Deidara packed up with the eyebrow-less jinchuuriki and made their way to the rendezvous point. It was in a cave, barred by a huge rock, which Sasori thought was extremely obvious  but did the job of blocking an entrance well enough. The extraction of the one-tailed went just about as well as expected. Sore legs from stiffly standing in the same position for days and an intense need to use the facilities for Deidara; another half a week of boredom for Sasori. 

When it was all over, Deidara spent an hour outside in the water, trying to bathe away the dirt and sweat. Then, he went right back inside to prepare more clay to add to the remaining half inside his bag. Sasori was making a few adjustments to Hiruko, and that was when Deidara decided to pipe up and ask about Orochimaru. The whole reason he even thought about it was totally not because his Danna mentioned about 400 times over during the last week that Orochimaru would have done a better job. 

As it turns out, Orochimaru was really just a creepy pervert. Deidara understood how Itachi was incredibly handsome, and definitely shouldn't need to settle for an old man that likes little kids. However, when it came to what people can do with their tongues, Orochimaru has Deidara beat, hands down and no puns intended. He's heard stories of how Orochimaru was basically a snake at some point, and the tongue was the one thing to prove it. 

The most interesting thing is; Orochimaru's attempt at Itachi's body had not been successful, but he had been successful in attempting. That gave him a few more points over Deidara, who never managed to do much else besides get caught in a genjutsu against Itachi. Deidara huffed after his Danna finished telling the story, and continued shoving chakra-infused clay into his pouch. What a stupid idiot Orochimaru must have been, being so talented and wasting all that time pining over someone he knew he couldn't get, then wasting enough time trying to go for it anyway and still failing miserably. Deidara tsk-ed and sat down on Gaara's dead body, letting out a sigh of relief. Losing that left arm had not been fun. 

It wasn't long until Kakashi's team burst through the rock to find the artful couple sitting around, waiting to be confronted so they can get back home. Deidara laughed some, poked fun at Naruto some, ignored his Danna's glare that was obvious through Hiruko some, and flew right out of the cave with Gaara's corpse in tow. 

Sasori huffed, crossed his arms, and moved his facial muscles into a frown. Couldn't Deidara have carried both of them out of there, and then blown the place up? No, Deidara was looking to see some action with both Jinchuurikis, dead and alive. He sighed, and turned to face the remaining team members. Clearly, every one in the Sand has heard of Sasori, so the remaining two members of Team Kakashi and his grandmother should be his opponents. Deidara should have an easy fight, and an easy time getting back to the base. However, when Sasori really took a good look at his opponents, he realized that there were only two of them. 

He also realized that they seemed to be the useless half of the team, and were there only for plot development. Why did he always get the boring jobs? He huffed and let them attack, gauging the girl's power. Hiruko would not be enough to defeat his grandmother anyway, but it served useful enough for testing the girl. Sasori was surprised; it must have been her who broke the rock. She was strong but not the fastest, nor the brightest. He huffed when he almost got her cornered, but his grandmother's puppet jutsu's saved her. What a hypocritical hag, he thought, Shaming me for using humans as puppets, and then turning around and doing the exact same thing with someone who is still alive! 

Sasori was doing extremely well, until his grandmother summoned those two scrolls. Why, out of all the scrolls in the world, did it have to be the ones he never wanted to set sight upon again? He thought he had tucked those puppets away, a mistake of his past he should have never made, but apparently she had found them and added them to her collection. It's what I get, Sasori rolled his eyes manually, for being an idiot years ago. He thought he was over it, over his family-ships, over his past, and over his parents. However, the two puppets with their hands intertwined served as a constant painful reminder, that they followed him everywhere he went. 

He tried, as hard as he could, to find a way to defeat his grandmother without destroying his first creations, but he was blinded by the intensity of battle, and his grandmother was expertly using them as shields. Puppets aren't supposed to have feelings, but Sasori could not stamp out the dread. He wanted to get rid of the girl for being such a nuisance, but his grandmother was always in the way. He tried, as hard as he could, to find a way to kill the girl without destroying his parents, but he couldn't. 

In the end, as his blades were broken and his arms disconnected, Sasori has nothing left to defend himself from the last attack of his parents. He had a last blade on this right arm, but deep inside, he knew he couldn't use it. He shook his head and smiled as the girl landed a sucker punch straight on the better side of his face. She wanted to know about Orochimaru, and Inner Sasori shrugged. He never liked Orochimaru much, or disliked him much. He supposed, now that Deidara was the replacement, a snake pales in comparison to the sun. 

As he closed his eyes, he could still see the little sparks from Deidara's firework butterfly right before Team Kakashi came charging in. Sasori didn't understand killing something as soon as it was created, but he agrees with Deidara on two points. Sasori always knew he was mortal. Sasori always knew everything was mortal, and he had a great amount of envy and admiration for the idiot blonde for being able to accept that, as if it was the most basic fact of the universe. Sasori could also agree that art was the most peaceful thing to him. Not the use of it, but the creation of it. Never before had he felt more at peace than in the arms of his parents.