Hey everybody, I'm here with my first SasoDei oneshot. This was written for my mother who recently lost her mother. My grandmother and I were never close and I barely remember what she looks like, but my mom is taking it hard. I wrote this for her because she's so awsome and loves the SasoDei pairing. I usually hate writing first person, but the story wouldn't have turned out well at all had I written it any other way. please tell me if I did okay or what I need to work on. This was ment to focus more on emotions than on surroundings, so it's not very detailed. Let me know how I did, constructive crits make my day, but any reviews are good, so here you go!
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters related to Naruto.
Sasori relieves to you a tragic love song . . . .
I guess you could say I loved him. I believe that would be wishful thinking though. The world is an awful place I know, and maybe what I had was the last of its kind. Maybe it was the last love going on this forsaken earth, or to a more realistic standpoint, maybe it was just a union of two lonely, jaded souls. I'll let you decide. I want to believe that what we had was real, and not just two dumb asses filling up some empty holes we had unknowingly drilled ourselves through our thoughts and deeds. Part of me knows that true love doesn't exist, while another more childish part thinks that I had lost something precious. I can't really say, but all I know is that it hurt like hell to have that amazing blue eye look at me without recognition.
I first saw him after my old partner, Orochimaru, fled from the organization I work for. The Akatsuki is a group of criminal ninjas in which once you join, you stay forever. You can't quit or run out, or Sir Leader will kill you. However unknown to all of us, the old snake had outside resources. He was able to run without so much as a scratch. I have a grudge against him for doing just that. I have a talent for holding grudges against people who manage to outdo me. It comes from my father's side, for both he and my grandmother inherited the skill of being able to stay angry at a person for a long, long time. While I was seething, Leader was furious, but in the meantime he decided I needed a new partner.
All the best subordinates were lined up before me. Usually it was Sir Leader that chose who you were to be partnered with, but he trusted my judgment. He knew me quite awhile, for I was one of the first members to join. While others had perished due to the extreme conditions of our assigned missions. I had remained through all the generations, so for that, my opinion was somewhat valued. He would be sure to have the final say on who I would be spending most of my time with.
I walked carefully down the row of subordinates Leader had chosen to be my potential partners. There were ten of them, each with a metal dog tag engraved with their names, and nothing more. In Akatsuki, you didn't need to know the life story of another. Fighting tactics and a name were all you got. It was like buying a piece of bread without knowing what was entirely in it. I didn't mind though, I trusted Leader to choose the right one for my artistic tastes.
I marched down the row of trainees, looking at their faces, though not really trying to see. I fingered their dog tags, looking with my usual stoic face of uncaring. Some were grotesquely hideous, and I knew they were out right away. Leader knew I strived for perfection, and he would never hear the end to my complaints if he were to partner me with a mutant. I quickly brushed by the taller ninja's. All of them held a certain lust in their eyes as I continued to walk along them, my eyes scanning their bodies and headbands.
I felt as if I was shopping for something I had wanted for a long time, but wasn't sure what. I still kept in mind that even if I chose one, Leader would end up making the final decision. One offered me a curt bow, and I thought to myself, Kissing ass, huh? I didn't return the gesture as I paced patiently by. I have always been proud of how easily I am able to mask my emotions, and it seemed to unnerve a few, as my face showed no signs of feeling, or caring. I had sculpted my face to seem unbelievably perfect, and that in itself proved I was far from human.
The man that bowed to me earlier shifted uneasily, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his uniformed pants. All of them wore the same uniform, a plain black vest, with a red shirt underneath. They all looked at me like they were dogs trapped in a pound, and I felt the satisfaction of being the all-powerful human who brought one of the beasts home to serve me. I felt a smirk play with the side of my lips. I have always loved power and dominance, which was why I joined this organization in the first place. Seeing these shinobi shift under my darkened gaze proved quite the treat. Then, I saw him.
He was standing in his correct line by the others, and I thought for sure I would have missed him had I not looked that way in the first place. He was however, not looking at me, but at the dog tag he was fiddling with. His light golden hair fell around his shoulders while most of the rest was tied back into a ponytail. I couldn't clearly see his face from the way his head was tilted, but I still felt drawn to him. It was like he was a magnet, and I wanted to see the rest of him that hid behind the sun-colored banner.
I let myself glide over to the boy, and he looked up with surprise and alarm as I stopped before him. I knew my face was hard and cold, but my insides felt as if they had been turned into warm soup. They sloshed around inside my frame as I stared into the visible pool of light grayish-blue. Now, I've never really been good at poetry, so I wont even try to describe what I felt when his lone eye met mine. Lets just say that I thought I would die right there on the spot, he looked so much like an angel.
I found myself scanning his entire face, all the other subordinates forgotten. His lips were small and feminine, while his skin was creamy, though nowhere near pale. It was a gorgeous contrast to his light blonde hair, that I could tell he didn't care much for. What really caught my interest though, was the mat of it hanging over the left side of his face. I uncaringly swept it away with the back of my hand, barely suppressing a gasp at the sight that lay underneath.
I let it fall again, and found a look of pure misery in the boy's face. For the first time in my long existence I felt regret for what I had done. It was cruel to do that to someone, who seemed so pure and innocent. Picking up his dog tag I found his name to be Deidara and quickly turned away. Making my way back down the row, I risked one last glance at the boy before exiting the room.
"Who do you think would be best for you?" Sir Leader asked me as I wandered to him; my mind still locked on the beautiful face of the boy named Deidara.
"I like the blonde one," I said as if pondering the question seriously. "What was his name, Deidara?"
"Ah, him," Leader hummed. He always had that hum that could calm the angriest of ninjas. Now don't get me wrong, very little of Sir Leader is pleasant, but the one thing that was, was when he hummed his words. "He's quite an interesting little fellow."
"I like him," I replied simply, though inside I was begging the silhouetted man to let me be near the boy. I wanted to touch him so badly, to run my fingers through his golden hair. I wondered briefly what he smelled like, and it took nearly all my self-control not to sniff the hand that had touched his hair. "I might be able to teach him a few things."
"I'll think about it, but the Kiri ninja seems better suited to your personality. Deidara is a little high strung," Leader observed. At that moment I made the terrible mistake of looking out into the row at the lone Kiri ninja. It was female, or so I thought, with greasy, gray hair, and a spotted complexion. No way was I going to be paired with that thing. Many normal people would call me shallow for only looking at the surface beauty, but that's the way I am and I will never change myself, especially after Deidara loved me for the way I was.
The next two weeks were torture as I awaited my new partner. I was unable to work correctly on my puppets. Their conditions were as perfect as usual, but I was paranoid to the point where I nearly polished a hole through one of my masterpieces when a tiny flake of dust landed. The result reminded me of what bleach did to the colors of one's shirt. I was also constantly annoyed by any disturbance, lashing out at anybody who spoke so much as one syllable to me. That beautiful face would not leave my mind and I so longed to see it again.
The only problem was the thing that lay beneath the hair. That treacherous thing that ruined an otherwise perfect face. The robotic work of it would have sent a mechanic into heaven just looking at it, but me as an artist thought it was a mistake. The problem was that whoever had drawn such flawless features, had used a felt-tipped pen, meaning it was unable to erase. Don't ask me why I think he was drawn with a pen, a pencil just seems too ordinary for someone so…so…pretty.
Anyway, the thing was a mechanical eye. No, not just an eye, but the whole left side of his head. It spanned to his temples; the only flesh I knew to be real was the ear. I didn't care though. As long as he kept the metal part hidden, I'd never cease to control my thoughts. My body was another story though. Rigorous training had taught me to master what my body did. Besides, taking advantage of other people was not my way. It was much more fun and challenging to win a person's trust, for when you dropped them they fell twice as hard. I was sure I'd have Deidara eating out of my hands by the time I was through, but I was so wrong.
I spent my days in waiting looking, pacing and running my hand through my hair. If that gorilla was my partner, I was going to be pissed. I turned the cable in my stomach restlessly; it offered me a way to relieve my stress. I stayed in Hiruko when outside my room, and stalked around, looking at my human puppets, making sure their skin was still chemically preserved, and none had started to rot.
It's a full time job worrying over if you'll see the boy that made you feel things you shouldn't again, and taking care of about two hundred ninety-eight puppets. So when Leader came to my room with a soft knock, I nearly collapsed with relief, only to be constricted by anticipation once more. I thought I could smell the stench of the disgusting gorilla-lady, that musty air that reminded me of sawdust. The damn things always got in your hair, and up your nose, and I was sure that woman's scent would be the same.
"Your new partner is here," Leader spoke to me as if he were delivering a bag of candy to starving children, though I knew very well he'd more likely laugh then feed them sweets. So why did my shadowy master sound as if he had solved world hunger? Then I knew why.
Deidara walked into the room, his hands crossed uncomfortably over his chest, looking around the room at my collection. He was just a beautiful as ever, with his hair tied up in that same careless ponytail, his lips still drawn downwards. I prayed I would get to see him smile before I got tired of him. My simple fascinations with humans never seemed to last; though I knew he'd make an amazing puppet when his usefulness to Leader ended.
"Good," I said with the best uninterested tone I have ever faked. I looked through my heavy-lidded eyes at my new partner. Never had I ever felt so happy, and light, though outside I knew it seemed I could care less. I felt like a farmer who had just been delivered a prized horse.
"Um…Hello…Yeah," Oh god when he spoke I thought I would melt on the outside, for my insides had been liquid ever since I first met him those weeks ago. His voice was like pure velvet to my ears, and it caressed me ever so gently.
"Huh," I grunted, before turning away to look at my armada of war puppets. I plucked a brown haired woman from one of the many shelves lining the room, and began to tease her arm with my fingers. Hopefully this would give the illusion of me being very busy, though I had no such thoughts.
"Take care of him," Leader directed at me, though I pretended not to pay attention. The door closed with a slam, and I was alone in the room with Deidara. I heard a squeak of a mattress, as the boy sat down timidly on my bed, soon to become ours.
"So you're a puppeteer, yeah?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, his expression still wary. I nodded, not bothering to speak. "Um… Sir Leader told me you make human puppets…and I was wondering if…maybe…you'd like me to save you some body parts on our next mission. I'm an artist, and my art is explosions, and there's usually a lot of spare limbs, and I thought…well…"
"I'd like that," I interrupted in a quiet whisper. That little offer to help me with my own art had done the trick. I had fallen hard without even knowing it, for real or not. I didn't know I was in way over my head. I had taken on a package I wasn't ready for, and I wish I'd known one day I'd pay for it. I just sat next to him in the least threatening manner I could manage. "So how old are you?" I asked in a tone that said I wasn't the type to deal with children.
"Seventeen, yeah," He replied, looking at me with a half smirk. I was disappointed, I won't lie, but I was patient, for I count years like you count days. I would have to wait until he turned eighteen to try and make any moves. That proved harder than expected, as I watched him grow even more beautiful with each passing day. He was annoying as hell though, with his constant chatter and unorthodox style of art.
I hadn't really paid attention when Leader warned me of his high-strung, happy-go-lucky attitude. He had a talent for talking about absolutely nothing for hours on end, and he had another little birth defect I had not been aware of. No, he wasn't inbred, (though I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case) but the boy had mouths on his hands. He used them for making bombs out of clay and chakra. Whenever I was trying to work, I'd hear that same disgusting slurping sound as those mouths devoured one piece of clay after another, and turning them into birds, spiders, and even giant centipedes.
The fact that these tiny creatures fascinated him, was enough to grab my attention as well. He loved the beauty and freedom of birds, and found spiders and other insects fascinating. I came into our room often to find him staring at a bug crawling across the floor or ceiling. His good eye always marveling at how the many legs pulled the tiny body across the hard floor. I stopped to look too, and found these little creatures to be an artist's hidden inspiration.
One creature in particular awed me, the desert scorpion. I had seen many growing up in a desert community, never really paying attention, but after Deidara had made me sit and watch a lone one crawling through the sand, I began to be intrigued by its design. The tiny claws on the front, and the arched tail on its backend gave me new ideas and upgrades to Hiruko. I have to thank him for that too.
He loved clay. Loved to play with it, mold it, dig for it, and throw it at my head when I stopped paying attention to his long rants about nothing. It was everywhere under his bed, and sometimes made its slimy way into the joints of my puppets. Of course I yelled at him for this on a regular basis, but that didn't mean my feelings for him disappeared. I had cast the allusion that I hated him, and in truth sometimes I did. Sometimes I wanted to rip his head off, and inject him with lethal venom, but my feelings never wavered. I could barely wait until he finally turned into a man. Days seemed like years, and I felt like I was wasting time, but something told me he wasn't ready yet.
Going back to the farmer analogies, I felt like a farmer who had received a prized colt, and was waiting for it to grow up to be a racehorse. If I were to approach him at this time, I knew the extent of my yearning would scare him. He might have even attacked me thinking he was defending his innocence. Again to remind you, taking advantage of someone is just wrong. Either you do it the hard way or not at all.
That's the way my father and grandmother taught me. You just felt more pride and dominance when you struggled for something, especially when you got it at the end. Even if I was to misuse Deidara, I'd never have had the boy completely. It had been a long known fact between us that I was the stronger one and could get away with it, but I wouldn't accept him as mine until I had his emotions too, and he thought of himself as only belonging to me.
I wanted to be in his every thought, and become his obsession. Sure I'd let him take a few greedy sips from the cup only to let him get addicted, but then I'd deny him. Watching his cherubic face twist with lust and longing would excite me the most, and would eventually lead to his being one of my collection. I used this same technique on many a shattered soul. I made them believe that I was the one for them, then strike. He would have been my greatest work of art, had I not fell so hard.
Finally the day came when I felt I could safely approach him with my affection. We were sent on a mission to a small village, with no chain of operating ninjas. We were to pick up more business agreements from yet another potential client. I wondered how I should go about confessing my compiled list of emotions. Another useful talent I have is to put what I'm feeling into a list, so that I am able to observe a particular one without doing anything drastic. I take pride in my control and all the training I put myself through to become as hard as the world itself.
I was calmly looking at my mental list, sitting on the windowsill looking out over the tiny town. I had left Hiruko so I could stargaze. I was able to see through Hiruko's eyes, but they were like sunglasses, and I wanted to see the glowing orbs clearly. Like Deidara loved clay, I loved stars. They were always there shining, to me in the ultimate eternity.
Then he sat next to me, scooting closer than necessary. I looked at him, and my mental list was burned to crisps right there. His visible eye as a deeper gray than usual, illuminated by the damn moon. Why did that stupid ball of cheese in the sky want me to go in deeper than I intended to?
"Danna," He pleaded. Yes, the little bastard pleaded with me, his gorgeous face inches from mine. I stared for a moment, my mouth open a little. I always imagined me going to him, not the other way around. My plan was working, but at that moment, I had forgotten entirely about my whole need to hurt and manipulate this man. I wanted to touch him, and be with him. My simple fancy that started out as a tiny kitten, had turned into an enormous lion, in what I guess you could call love, if you even believe in it after the hell our world has fallen into.
"Yes?" I asked, my voice on the verge of shaking. Then I felt the soft contact of his lips against mine. I was able to feel simply because of the network of chakra I had placed in myself. It had taken me awhile to totally copy the human nervous system into my new puppet body, but I had managed. It's a weakness not to feel the terrain beneath your feet, or smell the sweat of an attacking assassin. I had made sure that I had no visible weaknesses.
His lips were so soft and gentle as they began to caress mine. I didn't respond for a moment I was so shocked, and I felt him tense, as if he thought I didn't return his feelings. I felt the soft contact break, and I quickly buried my hands in his hair, pulling him back into me. I kissed him hard, opening my mouth and letting him in. His body relaxed, and I continued to nuzzle his lips with my own.
That night we slept in the same bed, entwined in each other's arms. It was as far as the both of us were willing to go at the moment. Neither he nor I was ready to expose ourselves in that sinful act. We both slept peacefully, and I awoke to blonde. His face was buried deep in my chest, while his long hair rested in a silky sheet over my eyes. I blew it off through my lips, finally being able to smell the earthly, metallic scent of clay. His breaths were deep and even, as he huddled even closer to me.
For once I found myself smiling, knowing that things would never be the same between us. I knew he'd still piss me off, and we'd still have our heated arguments over what art really was, but now I knew what we had underneath that. He was no longer a boy, and he was free to be mine, no longer restrained by the rules of childhood. I began to gently run my fingers through his hair, lovingly almost. (Again, this is for you people who believe in the myth called love.)
The next day he flew above me on his giant clay bird, pure happiness alight on his face. I followed him with Hiruko's eyes, I too finding delight in his freedom. I no longer wanted to own him, for part of his beauty came with his windblown hair, and his thoughts of riding the sky. His freedom was what gave him the face of an angel. We came from two totally deferent worlds, and yet we still found each other. He needed open space, room to spread his wings and sunshine, while I was perfectly content to stay in the dark, surrounded by the lifeless eyes of my puppets. Darkness was my sanctuary, and light was his.
Our relationship continued to progress, us getting closer and closer. Almost to the point where we needed to be together. The others had no idea of our bond, and that suited the both of us just fine. We slept in the same bed, always making sure we were touching. I felt so warm next to him, and he didn't even mind my wooden body, as he held me close. Some nights he'd sing to me an old love song of a man and woman who looked longingly from across a huge river. It had nothing to do with our relationship, but the melody always soothed me, and every night I'd go to sleep with even deeper feelings.
He was always happy to be near me, and compared to the other Akatsuki members, was warm in nature. Now, I'm not saying he was kind in the least. If anything he was one of the most sadistic freaks I've ever met. If you looked at him the wrong way he'd kill you literally, but with me he was more gentle an open. He told me of how his father abused his mother, forcing her to be intimate with him, and brutally beating her. How she looked at him like he was the cause for her pain, and how she had slipped some poison in his lunch when he was twelve had always hurt him. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately for his mother, his father had smelled the toxin and proceeded to batter her with the handle of a nearby kunai. I told him the story of how my parents died, and in a desperate attempt to be with them, turned their corpses into puppets.
Eventually my feelings grew so strong that I ended up proposing to him. It wasn't the traditional way of asking some one to marry you, but he said yes and I swear the room got a little lighter. That night we sat on our bed, not in a usual wedding standard, if you could call it a wedding. It was just us promising one to the other. No rings, no cake, no priest and no guests. It was our secret truce to share these feelings with only each other. Then we did the traditional kiss, but this time I asked if he was ready to go further. He said yes again, and so the deed was done. I won't go into detail, because those things belonged to Deidara and myself.
Life was well and good for awhile. Well, as good as life got for criminals. We continued our secret affair, the others clueless to our actions, and my feelings for the man growing more. Deidara's feelings for me rivaled my own for him. Being with him, and making my art was two things I lived for. To escape from the fact I lived in a hell on earth. Then again, all earth is hell. The way we delicately touched one another, and divulged in this supposed crime was a heaven nether of us deserved. I didn't care, and soon I could care less about the eye that had bothered me before. It became part of him, and I frequently pushed that lock of hair away to brush my lips against the cool metal.
Then it happened. It started gradually. He began to forget things, like where he put a pack of kunai, or where he put the soap in the bathroom. At first I thought it was him being ditzy and I scolded him frequently. He became frustrated and insisted that something was wrong. He began to forget the faces of the other Akatsuki members, Hidan going first, then Zetsu shortly after. That was when I got concerned, for Hidan and Zetsu are two faces you don't forget easily.
I took him to Leader, and found out the news that would cause my whole world to implode on me. Deidara had a disease that was causing his brain to shut down and it wouldn't be long until he died from his condition. Leader couldn't do anything and ordered me to bring him back when he lost all memories. We agreed to come back when the time was right, and left for our room.
Deidara had other plans though, as soon as the door was open, he bolted out of sight. I thought briefly of leaving him alone, but I needed to be near him. Running after him, I found him only five minutes later sitting alone on a rock. His arms were folded across his chest, tears threatening to spill over.
"I don't want to forget you, yeah," He whispered not looking at me. That's all that was said, for in that instant I took him in my arms and kissed him softly. He broke down when the contact lessened, and buried his face in my neck. "I don't want to forget you." His eyes were clouded with the memories he was soon to lose.
We slept even closer together that night, and though I knew Deidara would leave me someday, I never thought it'd be so soon. I held him close as if this were our last night together, letting the smell of his hair imprint itself in my mind. I hardly slept as I watched him, wondering that with every breath he took, a part of our life was lost.
When he woke up, I had the strange urge to cook for him. My mother, never having any daughters, had wanted to pass on her mother's recipes to her child. So much to my father and grandmother's dismay, I became quite the chef when it came to cooking dumplings. Luckily our rooms at the time were much like apartments, and had their own little bathrooms and kitchens. Nobody had to watch me throw away my dignity for a partner I claimed to hate.
"I want to cook you dumplings," I said simply. The look of shock on his face was priceless.
"You cook?" He asked, his eyebrows raising in confusion. "I thought you didn't need to eat."
"I don't but you do," I pointed out. "My mother coached me a long time ago, I want to try at least once without her yelling in my ear."
"So I'm your guinea pig, yeah?" He frowned at me, as I rolled over to meet his gaze.
"If you see it that way," I pushed myself up, and began to boil the water on our little oven. When the last of my dumplings were complete, I let them cool in a bowl before handing them to Deidara. I handed him some wooden chopsticks, and sat beside him expectantly.
"You sure you're not trying to kill me off right now?" He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.
"No, now eat," I ordered, glaring at him. He sighed, as if reasoning with himself that it seemed I knew what I was doing when folding the meat into the little packets of dough. He ate the first one, and instantly began shoving more into his awaiting mouth. "Wow, you'd make a good cook, Danna," He smiled at me, before letting the top of his head press against my shoulder. I took the plate from his hands, and set it down on the floor. We both laid down again, holding each other for what seemed like the last, though looking back everything felt like a last.
His condition continued to deteriorate. He soon forgot everyone's names except my own, and where everything was in our hideout. He cried when he forgot how to brush his hair, and when he couldn't bathe on his own anymore. I took over those tasks, whispering comforting words in his ear as I brushed his hair back and helped him to wash. Though as he continued to lose more and more of his memory, he never forgot me. I seemed to be the one thing stable in his new unfamiliar world.
The other members looked at him as if he were something getting in the way with their generic motives. I remember I nearly decapitated Hidan when he found it funny Deidara forgot how to eat. Itachi only looked emotionlessly at the confused and sick man, though I thought I saw something behind his red eyes. Deidara had been unusually close to the leaf ninja, due to his consistent nature, and the Uchiha gave Kisame a death glare when the shark ninja made a wise crack about Deidara forgetting how to pee on his own.
It wasn't funny though. It was anything but funny. The person I had yearned to get for so long was losing himself and there was nothing I could do. I could only be there for him when he began to lose words, his sentences becoming slow and deliberate. It ceased the talking, and though his prattling annoyed me, I missed it now it was gone. He clung to me now more than ever, but I couldn't let myself take advantage of him. His eye was scared as he woke up not knowing where he was, whimpering and clinging to my cloak as we continued to share a bed.
I began to think he wouldn't forget me, for he was stubbornly refusing to relinquish our memories to the sickness that ravaged him. He knew what bothered me and kept still, as I let the washcloth run up and down his back, and when I brushed his hair for him. I foolishly thought that whatever it was we had was stronger than any sickness, and that he'd die remembering only me if nothing else. I knew I'd turn him into a puppet once he died, but I couldn't look at the tools that I needed. I couldn't face the fact that my angel was dying. I was sure this was punishment when he finally asked me,
"Hello Sir, who are you?"
"My name is, Sasori," I replied, my voice hard. "I'm going to take care of you for awhile."
"Okay," He smiled that beautiful smile, and I felt all was lost. It was time to take him to Leader. He'd forgotten everything. I had to brush his hair first, for I wanted him to look his best even when he died. Picking it up, I untangled all the knots. His hair began to shine just as it always did, and when I was done, I clutched a nearby mirror and let him see his face.
He smiled happily, letting his fingers trace his reflection. It took all I had not to hug him from behind and bury my face in his neck. I so badly wanted to kiss his soft lips, and gently stroke his hair. I wanted to remind him of how beautiful he was, for he looked at his reflection as if it was a different person gazing back at him.
"The person…in…this… picture is beautiful," He struggled with each word, as if they were lubricated with soap and slipping out of his grasp.
"That's you, Deidara," I reminded him gently. "That's your reflection." I spoke as if it were to a child, and in this state he was like a child. His smile suddenly faded and his visible eye turned hard. He turned the mirror away so the glass faced his lap.
"This…is…not…me," He fought for the few words he still had. "I…am…not…Deidara. He'd…remember." With that, he threw the mirror against the wall, where the glass broke with a loud crash. He then screamed with rage into his arms. I didn't dare touch him. Now with his mind going he was far more violent and dangerous, and at times his eyes were clouded with death and anger. If given the chance Deidara would have killed me. I scared him just by being there, and when Deidara was scared he was angery. I wanted to cry, but years of training had helped me forget how.
We were sent on a mission, that I knew was extermination. Leader had been fond of Deidara and was letting him die as a ninja should in battle. I couldn't touch him anymore, for he didn't understand, and we no longer shared the same bed. The way I longingly looked at him made the man uncomfortable, and he often shifted away from me. I had to stop hurting myself, but I knew this had to be done.
We were being sent into a group of ninjas. I was ordered not to protect Deidara, and to let him die the way he had wanted to, with a bang. Though as we fought in the fray with kunai and puppets, he was so...so much like a zombie. He didn't understand what was happening and the once proud, undefeatable Iwa ninja was wandering around aimlessly, his eye hooded, his mouth lax and open. Shaking as I fought next to him, he looked to me with dead eyes. I ignored all orders and stood before him. These weren't strong ninjas, but Deidara's brain had gotten to the point where he could barely walk effectively. The paths were always curved, and he often ran into things due to his loss of vision.
I didn't care what Leader did to me, I protected him. The ninjas weren't a match for me, but one launched a surprise water dragon attack. I only looked in horror at the beast approaching me. I knew it wouldn't kill me, but it was going to hurt like hell. I turned momentarily to see Deidara staring at me, as if he didn't care I was going to be hurt. He didn't even seem to be looking at me at all. I turned, and braced myself. I grit my teeth and gasped as I was knocked away not by the dragon, but by Deidara's shoulder. It hit him full force, and he was knocked to the ground, blood pouring from a fatal wound.
The rest of the fight was a blur of red for me. After I got up from the ground, I knew I had lost it. I killed every one of the shinobi, their blood flowing on the ground. I heard myself laugh as a man begged for his life. Impaling all of them and injecting some with my legendary three days to die poison, was what distracted me from the pain I knew I was in for.
One of the reasons for me being so solitary is that I tend to forge bonds that are too deep for my own good. It hurts to lose someone, but for me it's like I'm being crushed by two blue whales while sitting in a tub full of boiling vinegar with open wounds. My parent's death was what threw me into insanity. I knew I couldn't take anymore after this. There is only so much loss one can take before they do something stupid.
I remember holding him while he looked up at me, breathing heavily. For a moment his eyes remained blank, then they softened. He slowly reached up and let his palm rest on my cheek. I want to believe he remembered everything in that moment, but I can never truly say. He was so weak, and his breaths were becoming feeble. I remember his thumb tracing my lips and nose, as if he were trying to draw my face into his dying brain. He smiled, while the blood dribbled from the corners of his lips.
I began to sing to him as he used to do for me. It wasn't the song of the man and woman who wasted time with their simple yearning. It was about us, the light and the shadow that, through all hell, found each other only to be separated once more. I felt the earth and all its voices raise with mine in its last love song. The last of this power was fading away, as we were being drawn apart. I never had sang that song before, but the words came to me, as if someone else was singing our story through me.
Maybe what I had was real. Maybe the last of what humans call love was given to two jaded souls who never deserved it. That in itself proved how unfair God or whoever runs things was. I continued my song, saying good-bye. I was able to touch him now as he looked at me. I kissed his forehead and lips, before placing my hand over his.
This was the last of its kind, our little planet's last serenade to an emotion that people search for their whole lives. Now as I tell my story to you, I have to believe that it was real. I have to believe that Deidara remembered everything when he pushed me out of the way of that attack. I know that I did love him, but never could say so to his face. The emotion you humans call love is just as deadly as it is beautiful. I wish I could have followed him into death.
And so I relieve to you the last love story of our forsaken world. My last love song to the other half of me.
Though, that's just for you people who believe in love.
"Remember that the road to healing winds through pain, anguish, sickness and many tears." – Amanda Ford
"Remember that the road to healing winds through pain, anguish, sickness and many tears." – Amanda Ford
What do you think, I hope it wasn't corny or anything. Don't review out of pity though, review because you think theres a way I could improve this particular story. Thanks for getting this far!
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