A/N: Yay, Deidara! So, this is my latest ficcy. It will be a very dark and angsty romance fic with the coupling of Sakura/Deidara. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Simple as that.

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No matter how deep his voice, or how powerful he had become, they would always seem to find fault in the same way.

‘Is that a man, or a woman?’

Ordinarily, they wouldn’t live long enough to find out. Not because he particularly cared for their opinions, but because his art demanded such things from him, and he was all-too willing to sacrifice a few nobodies for the sake of art.

Art wasn’t supposed to last, for what was art but a look into the soul; a look into humanity itself. Art, like life, was a bang: here in an instant, and gone in a flash.

So, their words mattered little if he could simply use the fools as part of his larger canvas. He had been hearing these things since boyhood, so why start to care now, when the words were spewing from the mouths of useless strangers? Even when his teammates made offhand comments, it mattered little. Aside from Sasori-sama, and that idiot Tobi, he rarely saw any of them in the first place. Tobi knew better than to emasculate him, and underneath that hideous puppet, Sasori had been just as beautiful as Deidara.

Beautiful. Androgynous. Effeminate.

Deidara wasn’t effeminate, but he had been called all kinds of baser words that meant the same exact thing, growing up. Being a pretty boy came with a price, and no matter how you behaved, if you didn’t fit the mold, there were bound to be whispers behind your back.

Lies. Giggles.

Gossip passed around from peer to peer as they watched you with sneering lips and narrowed eyes. Perhaps it was because they were jealous of his abilities? It didn’t help that he had mouths on his hands…

At the age of seven, when that man had mistaken him for a young girl, Deidara received his first taste of how grotesque humanity could be…and how art could be created from something painful.

His back and palms pressed into the soil of the rocky, muddy plains outside of the village, he struggled against the larger man, fighting to keep on the light summer clothing his mother had dressed him in that morning.

A sharp, unexplainable pain was growing on the palms of his hands until he thought he might pass out. But he couldn’t. He had to keep fighting this man off. Maybe someone would come if he could keep him away long enough. Maybe. He had tried to tell the man he was a boy, but the man laughed a hollow, lust-filled laugh, grasping at the openings of Deidara’s shirt. His hands fumbled clumsily in his sick anticipation. He kept on laughing as Deidara screamed out in pain from a sudden tearing in his palms. It was as though some sharp-toothed creature was biting trough the skin.

He didn’t really remember much after that; he could remember bits and flashes, and sensations, but there was nothing much left to the memory but blood and dirt. In one moment, the slightly salty feel of dirt entering into a foreign opening on his hands was increasing the pain. The next, he could faintly remember a crumbling, tiny little bird-like shape.

The next thing he knew, there was an explosion and the man was without his face while Deidara had managed to retain his innocence.

Trembling, and still feeling the burning sensation of the bleeding mouths on his palms, he attempted to close his shirt back up; it was the only thing the man had managed to remove before meeting his strange, bloody fate. He didn’t know, at the time, why this had happened…but he was grateful. In fact, he almost felt…giddy.

A smile stretched across his tiny mouth as he relished in the punishment the disgusting man had received. In a way, the blood and dirt were almost beautiful; a macabre creation that he had created, spontaneously, out of a situation full of pain and fear. His parents, being artisans of the village when not taking missions, had told him time and time again that art was an expression of emotions, and the best work came from those emotions that took on a darker shade. Being a small boy, he never really understood what they meant, but amidst the tribulation over the wicked man, and the screaming pain in his torn-open palms, he thought he was starting to understand.

The palms were both a blessing and a curse; though his powers increased exponentially, the teasing from his peers increased as well. It wasn’t enough that his mother kept his silky blonde hair long, like a girl, but now he had large, toothy mouths forever etched and hungry on his palms.

Not having any friends to spend his childhood with, Deidara took to experimenting with those fierce little creatures, which seemed to have a life all their own. He found that feeding them real food was a bad idea, but different types of dirt worked well, even though they made his hands ache. It was when he tried clay that they finally reacted painlessly, and spit out replicas of creatures that didn’t crumble like their mud counterparts would.

If he thought of a shape, the mouths could form it and spit it out. After infusing chakra, he found that he could even control his little creations by giving them ‘life.’

Yet how to make them explode, like before?

The training he received in the academy made short work of deducing that. Occasionally, a strong emotion would set them off, but it was always guess work as to when it would happen. Finally, desperate and annoyed, he tried a few words. It was ‘katsu’ that did the trick. How annoyingly simple, and yet invigoratingly encouraging.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone when Deidara left Iwagakure. Other than his parents, he had hated the other villagers; they were bland people, who couldn’t see beyond simple things in life. The name of their country was appropriate; they were all annoyingly down to earth. Deidara needed more excitement in his life. He needed something flashy; something that went off like a bang.

That extra flash and excitement was found in Akatsuki, where the blights on his hands were treated as the true masterpieces he knew them to be. He was, ironically, partnered with another artist, and together they traveled the various lands, doing the bidding of their mysterious leader. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but Sasori-sama was more powerful than Deidara. After all, the missing-nin of Iwagakure was still just a young boy, while his partner was a more seasoned artist and shinobi.

Tobi was a rather poor replacement in Deidara’s eyes. Why did Zetsu get to shirk his ‘good boy’ onto Deidara? Hadn’t Deidara proved himself a worthy member of Akatsuki? The masked ‘boy’ was positively stupid, ungrateful, and a poor excuse for an Akatsuki member. Deidara despised him.

Yet there was something good about Tobi; the idiot never complained when Deidara went off on his own to pursue certain…needs. Like the good boy he was, Tobi obeyed Deidara’s request that he, “keep your distance, hm?”

The red light districts were where Deidara found comfort for his restless mind. Here, the women didn’t care if you were prettier than them, so long as you had enough money. For a little extra, you could do just about whatever you wanted to them, just short of killing them; in some places, you could even do that.

You could make them say whatever you wanted to, dress however you wanted them to, and do things to you that no decent woman would readily agree to. If they made the mistake of confusing him for a woman at first glance, he would make them pay for the offense once they were alone. You couldn’t tell Deidara that this wasn’t art in itself; sex, especially when it was a beautifully painful mess, was art. No matter how much he roughed them up, he made sure they felt that explosion too; otherwise, the piece of artwork simply wasn’t complete.

Some would argue that the more you got it, the less you desired it. It could become so routine for some, after all. This wasn’t the case for Deidara; even he knew deep down that it was more about being dominant, and in control, rather than just sex. Of course, rape was pointless. Where was the beauty in that? It was easier to bribe the women; when they saw the cash, they were all too willing to lie on their backs and let him slip between their warm, soft thighs. Then, he could make them scream, cry, beg, moan, whimper…Anything. He was in control until, ultimately, it ended with that bang he so craved in his artistic endeavors.

It was never anyone but a common whore. It couldn’t be. Perhaps he could justify it by saying he was making something artistic out of something ugly, but it didn’t need to be justified. No one knew where Deidara went because they had no need to check up on him; Deidara was a loyal Akatsuki member, after all.

That was why he found his attraction to her so jarring. Sure, she was a beautiful girl, but the same could be said about any of the whores he’d been with. Yet who could resist her flawless, white-as-the-moon skin? Or her eyes, which looked like emeralds encased in a flutter of thick, feathery lashes. Being with her would be like taking something already beautiful, and making it nearly perfect. The idea was maddening in itself, and he almost wished he’d never made the connection. Almost. The rest of himself was very pleased indeed, because it gave him a reason to act on it. Art was also meant to be a challenge; what more could you say about a living piece of art that belonged to the enemy?

For the first day or so, he reasoned with himself that it was bad to mix business with pleasure. After all, she was their target, and soon to be their captive and bargaining chip. The Kyuubi would come for his teammate, and then they would have the nine-tails. She was also the girl who had killed Sasori-sama with the help of that old Sunagakure hag, so why couldn’t he stop imagining what it might feel like to run his hands across her stomach? Feel her scratch her nails down his back?

Watching her was beginning to be torture, and adding that idiot Tobi into the mix made it downright frustrating. Between trying to get her off his mind in all the wrong ways, and attempting to keep Tobi from getting himself noticed, Deidara was positive he was about to go insane. He could only imagine what it would be like after they finally escaped with her. Collecting information on her from a distance was far different from being alone with her.

Well, not entirely alone, Tobi would be there. Of course, Tobi could be sent away…

He gave his blonde head a shake, trying to stop himself from letting his imagination run away with him again. Instead, he focused on her directly, instead of on what his minds eye wanted to see. She was leaving her house now, and it looked like she was making her way towards the woods. His current knowledge of Konohagakure told him that she was likely approaching the training grounds.

Good. It would be much easier to steal her away if she was away from everyone else.

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It seemed like every day was a nice day in Konohagakure. The fire country was a warm place nearly all-year round, and snow was a rarity. Sakura could think of no other place she wanted to be but right here in her home village. The air was fresh, the people friendly, and the economy was stable; she always knew that, despite the painful situations she had been put through the past few years, she was a lucky girl. After all, not every other shinobi village was as well off as Konohagakure.

Today was her day off from training with Tsunade, and like a true kunoichi, she was using it to train by herself. It seemed like everyone else was on a mission except for herself. It was maddening, almost, if she let herself think about it too much. No matter how strong she became, and no matter how close to rivaling the Hokage’s medicals skills she was, they always saw her as weak little Sakura-chan. She could prove them wrong left and right, but that wouldn’t change things. The very woman giving the missions was her own master, the Hokage herself. If Tsunade-sama couldn’t take her seriously enough, than whom else would?

It made her too angry to think about these things. So, instead of stewing, she took in a breath of fresh air and began a jog towards the forest training grounds. When they really needed her, they would take her along, she reasoned. It wasn’t as though she were missing out on a mission that involved Sasuke, or the Akatsuki. Worrying about it was just silly, now that she thought about it.

It was only a short distance to the training grounds her team used, and she arrived there in good time, only being stopped by a few talkative villagers. Now alone, she began to stretch out before beginning her training. Sometimes, she wondered what the point was, since an enemy wasn’t likely to let her stop and stretch before a big fight. It had become a habit, of course, by now, and trying to break it seemed rather frivolous.

Crack

It was just as she was whipping out a kunai that she heard the noise, and stopped dead in her tracks. Up a little ways, she had distinctly heard the sound of a twig snapping. Judging by how heavy the sound seemed to be, she didn’t think it was an animal. Rather, it sounded like the deliberate crunch someone would make when they wanted to be noticed. Had someone followed her back here? The feeling that someone was watching her practice annoyed her, but it annoyed her even more that they were purposely distracting her.

There was only one person currently in the village that would be stupid enough to spy on her.

“Ino-pig, if you want to train with me, then stop lurking around!”

Silence. Sakura sighed, irritably. Just what was Ino playing at? This wasn’t funny…

Crunch

Fine. She could play this game, too. At once, Sakura moved forward, concealing herself in the thicket of trees as she searched for Ino. The blonde wouldn’t be getting the upper hand with Sakura. Lately, the two girls had been training together, but Ino had been known to occasionally hide on Sakura in order to try and see techniques Ino thought Sakura was keeping from her. Yamanaka was such a brainless girl. If Sakura was keeping techniques secret from her, they certainly weren’t something the blonde could do herself.

Sakura grinned at the thought as she hid behind a thicket of bushes. Ahead, she heard another deliberate series of crunches. It sounded like Ino was walking way now. Good. That meant Sakura could sneak up behind her and-

“AHHH!” She screamed out as a hand clasped on her shoulder. She whirled around in time to find none other than Ino standing there, looking at her with an amused smirk on her face.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t an enemy, Billboard-Brow,” she laughed, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Sakura scowled for a moment, before her expression melted into a grin as well. As annoying as Ino might be, she was still Sakura’s best friend, and really the only person she’d been able to train with over the past few days, besides Tsunade-sama. Together, the girls would practice medical jutsus as well as other ninja techniques, and then gossip about the boys in their lives. It was nice having another girl to talk to, even if it was Ino-pig.

“Whatever,” Sakura blew her off. “I don’t know why you had to go sneaking around. Why’d you make me follow you all the way out here?”

Ino raised an eyebrow at Sakura’s question, unsure of what the other girl meant.

“What’re you talking about? I’ve been following you, not the other way around.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. Come on, she wasn’t that stupid! Besides, what was the point of fooling around anymore?

“Ino, I heard you walking around out here, that’s why I followed you. You were doing it on purpose.”

Again, Ino gave her a look of confusion. “Sakura, I told you…I followed you out this way.”

Sakura would have continued insisting, were it not for the sincere look on Ino’s face. Well, if it wasn’t Ino, than who was it? It didn’t sound like an animal…

Boom!

The next thing she knew, there was a blinding flash and the two girls had been blown apart in the heat of the blast. Several feet away from Ino, Sakura attempted to sit up, but found it difficult at best. Her body stung with the pain of tiny bits of rock that had struck her during the explosion, and the burns she had received. Groaning, she forced her burning arms to hold up her body so she could see the damage beyond the limited view of lying on the ground.

There was still dust in the air, but enough of it had settled for her to see that Ino was lying up ahead, motionless. Sakura knew she had to get up. This was an enemy, and they were out for the kill. She had to do something not only for Ino and herself, but the village as well.

“Geez, girls talk too much, yeah,” a voice whined from behind her, and Sakura’s eyes widened, before narrowing. She forced some chakra into her legs and back, so that she could force herself to get on her feet.

“Do you really think you should be moving? I got you pretty good, yeah,” the enemy further mused, and she could imagine a triumphant smirk on his face. Whoever he was, he was confident, because he made no move to strike her down as she finally managed to get unsteadily back on her feet.

Everything was spinning, but Sakura had to stand up to him, and stop him in whatever he was doing. Even if it cost her life, she would have to defend Konohagakure. Spinning almost drunkenly on her heel, she tried to keep her balance as she looked up at their attacker.

Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, he looked like Ino might have looked if the Yamanaka clan had that son they had always wanted. If she weren’t still reeling from the close proximity of the blast, she would have made a smart-ass comment right before barreling a powerful fist into his chest.

Instead, she stumbled forward and coughed up some blood, her fist barely even felt by Deidara as it connected haphazardly into his stomach.

Sakura faded in and out of what happened next. One minute he had her chin in one hand, and using his other to hold open her lidded, dilated left eye. He muttered something about overdoing it, to which Sakura responded by feebly attempting to get away, only to find herself being carried away the next time she briefly regained consciousness.

The last thing she could remember was the wind against her face as they ran through the trees, and her captor yelling a command to someone nearby. So there was more than one. In her current state, Sakura found that she couldn’t find the energy to care. Her eyes rolled back once more, and she was lost to the inky darkness.