Hi guys, I'm here with a new Sasodei multichap! I intend for it to be quite a ride, so hold on. XD And please, enjoy. *bows* For once I don't have much more to say than that! C'ept that there will be better humour eventually. But It's more like Humour/Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort. XD To play it safe I've put it under Romance/Drama, but let me know later on if you think it should be changed!

Summary(full): After ending up with amnesia prior to a violent accident, Deidara is taken in by Itachi to try and get his memories back. But when he finds out about the little 'project' they've been forced into, and the strange, dormant feelings he feels in the presence of a certain redhead, what will ensue? SasoDei.

Disclaimer: Kishimoto owns Naruto. I just resurrect the dead and have them fall in love. :D Oh wait-


"So, we usually encourage our patients to be close to the things that they used to love. But it seems as though you have no problem remembering most things you love, so it'll be the people you love that matter most." The pretty blonde told me. She was a psychiatrist for people with amnesia, and I'd gotten to know her pretty well in the time I'd been living here. This place that was as blank as my memory. She called me kid, and I knew her as 'Ino'. She wasn't much older than me, as she'd had a fast track study of mental health through her father and extended family that specialised in it. Twenty-four, she'd said she was. And I was nineteen.

I kicked my legs, watching them dangle from the hospital bed I sat on. She'd finished giving me my last physical before I left this place, and was telling me all the last things I needed to know. But her reasoning, or the hospital's, at least, didn't make any sense to me. How could I be around the people I loved, if I didn't know them? You could put me with anyone and I wouldn't know the difference. I'd learned that sometimes amnesia changed a person for good. Would I even think of them the same way again?

I looked up at the sound of the tatty plastic wheels from years of gliding abuse from lazy doctor's asses while she approached me with a clipboard and a pen. The sight of her fluorescent orange nail polish was slightly disturbing, but it gave me the itching sensation to…do something. A morbid destructiveness. I almost wanted to start ruining this pristine, white office. Make the furniture cover the bland white I'd been staring at.

"Sorry, kid. But I have to do this if you wanna get out of here." I rolled my eyes.

"Just do it." I shrugged, waiting for the onslaught of questions they'd ask a three year old.

"Name?"

"Deidara Iwa."

"Age."

"Nineteen."

"Your height the last time it was checked?" Her mouth curled up as she asked this one. She'd taken my height a little under an hour ago. And at my age, it's not like it was changing. It was embarrassing how she was taller than me though. She was pretty much the only person I paid attention to around here. I'd been dubbed 'the emo art kid', which I was pretty proud of. I didn't even have the equipment to make real art. "5'5.4 ft" I mumbled, irritated.

She scribbled something down before putting her ice blue eyes back on me. Her platinum blonde hair covered her eye, much like how my honey blonde hair did. She admitted she was 'inspired' by me, but at the time, I'd just thought she was probably sucking up to me to get on my good side and let it be. She snorted at one of the questions on the sheet. "Right. What colour was I wearing yesterday evening?"

"Blue."

"And the number of pencils I brought you yesterday?." I could tell she was somewhat ad-libbing or tweaking the questions a little.

"They weren't even good. Seven."

"Okay. I'm satisfied that your short-term memory is still in order…" Eyes glued to the clipboard, and writing something in her obscure, 'I'm-a-doctor-so-im-writing-shit-on-purpose-so-you-can't-read-it' scrawl, she began to change the tune of the questions a little.

"Deidara, what season is it?"

"Autumn."

"And what's your favourite?"

"This one."

She cocked her head to the side, a silent 'why'.
I grinned. There was one thing that would never leave me, as long as I lived. One thing I'd always thought, felt, believed. It was my very soul, and something I could depend on, even when I couldn't on my mind. Ironic, I suppose. "Because of the bonfires."

She nodded. "And what's your favourite subject." She spoke to me in question format, but it didn't sound like one, since we both knew what I was going to say.

"Art. Cause it's a bang." I nodded happily, my fingers tightening and my heels thumping at the bed behind me. The odd vibrating it caused in my ankle bones and the clinking sound that reached my ears helped sooth my restlessness.

"When is your birthday?"

"May 5th."

"The high school you went to…?"

"Iwagakuen."

"Do you remember any electives you took?"

"No."

"And, any family?"

"No, Ino. You know I don't remember anyone."

After a pause, and some more chicken scratch, she pushed off of the bed, somehow avoiding getting her ridiculous five inch heel stuck in the bed frame, and returned to the desk. I leaned back on the bed, the clicking no longer satiating my hunger for freedom.

"Well, there's still the holes in your memory. You remember basic things. Some details about yourself, such as birth. Though you don't remember your family or birthplace, or any birthday in particular. You remember what school you went to, but not what you studied, or anyone from it. We can obtain academic information for you, or have a friend fill them in. The only preference you remember from before the accident that caused your amnesia is that…you're somewhat a pyromaniac…And you love art. That's right, yeah? But you're not forgetting anything you're taking in as of now, and your motor skills and speech are still perfectly fine. Hopefully because of the nature of your amnesia your memories will return to you, through the method that I mentioned earlier. Fortunately you're old enough to live without a guardian, or parent, so I've arranged for your friend to take you home to live with him. He visited you while you were in the coma, so you'll get to meet him soon. Stick close to him, and he'll be trying to fill in the blank spaces, and encouraging you to remember things for yourself. Keep in mind that you'll be having weekly appointments, mid-week at noon, and I'm going to supply both you, and your friend with journals that I want you to fill in of any thoughts or feelings, whatever that you feel are important, that I'll be looking at. I'll give you an example sheet, but I wanna see some creativity in that so-called artist's brain of yours, okay?" She handed the items mentioned to me during her little speech, and then left with a little intern that had told her my 'friend' was here to collect me. Moments later, I was following her though the pallid hallways that had made me stir-crazy all these months.

The window's were translucent, and thick with shatter-proof glass, so we couldn't really see out of them properly, but the sunlight still streamed defiantly through, lighting the only hall in the place. Which was, funnily enough, the lowest-security place that I had lived in. Rapidly, as we got further into the building, and the loud, single repetitive sound of Ino's clanking shoes hitting tile began to get drowned out by the buzz of human motion, my restlessness died, instead curling up into a disgusting, compressed ball of tight dread rotting in my stomach. I wasn't born yesterday. Simulated interactions with people, and having to learn a lot of simple things again, like using traditional Japanese chopsticks again, and western cutlery, and table manners, and etiquette, and all that crap; In the back of my mind I knew it'd be nothing like that. What if this person didn't like me? What if I was actually a total douche, or boring? What if I'd been a douche before, and now I was a saint? What if I didn't like my 'friend'? I'd be stuck living with them if I wanted a place to stay. And who's to say they were really my friend? They could be some sick stalker that just claimed to know me. They could be the person that caused my accident. All I'd been told was that I was found at the bottom of some kind of Cliffside. What the hell I'd be doing near one of those was questionable. But I couldn't exactly say it didn't sound like me…After all, I didn't know me.

"Watch it ki-" She started as I collided with the back of her. She'd stopped in front of a big door, as translucent as those windows. Only one side of the door was open, and true, un-filtered sunlight danced through it and tried to find purchase in the fluorescent room. From the sociable expression on her face, I could tell it was my new roommate through the left side of the door that I couldn't see from my place on the right of her. Suddenly, the dread intensified, and I didn't want to leave this place at all.

"Dei, meet your friend Itachi."

Realising I was being a pansy, and that the world needed to be re-introduced to my essence of art, I stepped forward swiftly, putting myself in the line sight of 'Itachi'. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but either way, I was shocked.

In front of me stood a boy, although a considerable few inches taller than me, youthful looking and clearly not the pervert I had imagined would be taking me with them. He had glossy, noir hair, tinted brown I could see from the sunlight, the bangs falling into his bright red eyes, framed with girly-looking lashes, and lined with the longest stress-lines I'd ever seen. His expression managed to be both bored looking, yet cordial, as he watched me in return. He seemed…very serene. I'd say regal, but he also looked like the type to soak up compliments instead of have them go over his head, so I'd refrain from enlarging that ego I was sure he had any further. He was dressed in a simple black band T-shirt, wearing a matching cardigan , sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off a leather wristband adorned with red, white-lined clouds. I didn't know why, but my unease seemed to settle slightly as I noticed it. He was in slim, navy jeans, and black canvas shoes, and his nails were painted violet. I'd never seen a guy wear nail polish inside here, even though practically all the women did. I guessed it was another one of those realities I was going to have to get used to. After a moment of sizing each other up, he grew bored, raising a slim eyebrow at me. I almost scowled. I'm the one who didn't remember him, why did I have to start the re-introduction?

"Hey." I nervously chuckled, scratching the back of my head and nodding my as I remembered to lean into a little bow. "Sorry I don't remember you or anything….And I'm sure you know, but I'm Deidara."

I had to blink twice to believe it, but his lips had curled up into a smirk. I'd been starting to think that they couldn't move. "I know. And I'm Itachi. I'm nineteen, too. You'll be living with me, my mother, my little brother, and…..his friend. Who 'doesn't live with us, but merely has a whole set of clothes for the majority of nights he spends with us.'" I didn't bother to hide rubbing my eye when the smirk grew devious.

After a little more light introduction, I was discharged from the hospital and half way home in a suave car, so sleek and quiet it reminded me of a panther. This guy liked his black, I noted. Even the windows were tinted. But he hadn't said anything when I wound the window down, so I assumed I was in the clear.

I eyed the radio a couple of times, my urge to fidget returning. I'd had enough silence for a while, but Itachi didn't seem to mind it at all. It wasn't exactly awkward, which I found strange. To me, this meant that subconsciously I was used to hearing nothing from him. However, I was sweating on the inside. Pressure to behave in a way that he was accustomed to was making me unable to stand myself. I could almost feel the sweat forming on my brow.

Suddenly, the interior of the car sprang to life with a hushed resonance. It startled me, but at the same time it was quiet, enough so that I was more soothed by the sound than off-put. From my peripheral vision I watched his hand replace itself on the wheel, having missed him actually turning the radio on. I'd had little opinion of the music Ino brought me; she was into Pop, which had no appeal at all. But I felt compelled to still, and listen to the lyrics that intertwined with the slightly whimsical audio. Once again, I'd been surprised in Itachi, not that I knew why.

'Remember to breathe, because it'll take your breath away,'

"This is your type of music, then, Itachi-san?" Once again it was I who had to break the ice. I figured he should cut me some slack, but I suppose turning on the radio had been his silent was of saying 'relax'.

He shook his head, his expression scarcely changing. He inclined his head towards me slightly, bangs fluid and moving with him, almost a mind of their own. "Not exactly. I'm more into new wave and electronic sort of stuff."

"Is that not what that is?" I asked.

He cocked his head to the side as if listening. "Yes."

I waited for him to add more, and yet no such thing happened. What on earth was he trying to say? From that little smile on his face, I imagined he was trying to be difficult. Either than or he enjoyed annoying me. I scowled.

'Remember to live, 'cause you're gonna be thrilled to death,'

I realised that Itachi was only one of many people I was going to meet, and that it wasn't worth being haggard over. I hopped they weren't all closet jerks like this one. Then again, he wasn't a closet anything. Unless he was a pervert. And why him out of everyone that may have visited? From what Ino had said, there was no way to contact my parents. Not through school, my friends, or by any other means. Who was to know if they existed?

Did that mean I hadn't had contact with them before my accident? If so, why? Why was it that I'd forgotten things, and nobody would or could give me answers?

The thought was isolating. And maddening. Thrust back into the convoluted real world, with music, people I had no idea how to interact with, and objects and places I'd never known before that could have seemed like home in my last lifetime. That's what I dubbed the time I couldn't remember. A lifetime. I couldn't feel my memory coming back anytime soon, and in the event it never came back, I'd have to start appreciating this to keep me sane. Many people would die to be able to live again, give up a lifetime in return for another. The only thing that haunted me was wondering if I was one of them. The advice I'd give them, is that waking up in a hospital to a world with not one face in it you know, is a very pitiful thing indeed. Which reminded me.

"Itachi…You visited me in hospital?" Neither one of us said so, but he knew I knew he could sense the silent "What happened to me?" that hung in the air.

'Remember to scream because you're gonna be lost for words,'

"We…You were found at the bottom of a Cliffside." He answered. The answer seemed rehearsed, although he'd substituted it for a different sentence halfway through.

" I know that already!" I snapped. "'we'? Whose we?" I demanded.

"Deidara, I don't know. Your friends-our friends, were worried, that's all." He murmured to me, as though he head a headache and was trying to quieten me without self-inflicting pain. Or like I was a child causing a scene.

'Reverie whisper in my ear,'

"Who are they….? And when do I get to meet them?" I realised the car had parked into a driveway, of a home that looked only slightly larger than the average one I'd seen on TV. The house was quaint, and very oriental, surrounded by cherry-blossom trees I imagined looking gorgeous in spring, and picturesque in winter. So much was I dazzled by the two-story house, small koi ponds either side of the trees, that I forgot my question for a moment, whisked away into my next transitory thought.

'My imagination's taking me away.'

Both out of the car, I heard the motorized click of the car lock and turned to be greeted by an even more languid looking Itachi, leaning against the roof of his car, chin rested on the makeshift pillow of his arms. "Tomorrow. Like Ino said, we have to give them all journals too. Besides, it's a school day."

Of course, he was correct. Today was mid week, Suiyobi. Wednesday. But we were nineteen years of age. I was under the impression we'd finished high school.

"Don't look so gormless. Ever heard of college?" He asked condescendingly.

"How the hell am I supposed to go to college when I don't remember anything!" I asked incredulously as we made our way towards the front door of his home.

He scoffed, before revising his early statement. "Well, I wouldn't call it a school. We're just a bunch of over and underachievers with lots of free time spliced into a prototype performing arts academy."

"Academy?"

"No, more like building in which we actually end up with degrees in lunacy for being guinea pigs."

"Eh?" I cocked my head to the side. This was similar to the little stunt he'd pulled in the car. I had to wonder if this guy was even talking to me. Maybe I was one of the more sane people in this world, which didn't help in calming my suspicions that he was actually never my friend but just some creepy guy that was taking me home to molest me. But I was intrigued. Performing arts? Sounded like fun. "I take it you don't like this thing, whatever it is."

Pushing the front door aside, a sliding, plain and panelled with dark oak colour, a genuinely soft expression formed on his face. Or, at least I could tell he was much more fond of this place than his words let on. "This is our second year of the project. It's from fifteen to twenty-three, but there are only three age groups."

While he spoke, I stumbled in, half taking in the dark looking room, and the absence of anybody else, but more enthralled to be hearing someone telling me things about my life, rather than being asked the same monotonous questions. Maybe I hadn't lived as badly as I'd imagined.

He began to ascend a set of stairs, the polished-looking floor cool against my feet as I followed his beckoning hand. "Tell me more."

"Well, first is fifteen to seventeen, second is eighteen to twenty, and third is twenty one to three. We have two practical exams; one mid-year, where we choose groups within our classes. This one mixes with theory, as we have to write our own script and our own stage directions, as well as create our own costumes. However, another division is in charge of lights, media and background, but we give them requests for what we wish."

He'd no need to flick on a light, as it turns out he had a large window, equipped with a balcony. The light that flooded though the door swathed the room in sunlight, and although his bedroom's general colour was dangerously close to white, it was a more war, creamy colour. The floor was wooden, shiny like the room we'd walked though, but the walls were milky, adorned with all kinds of fascinating things, posters, a katana of all things, which I hoped was for decorative purposes only, a shelf of many novels, and trophies, and many objects adorn with a symbol of a red and white fan that appeared very often. If I'd been paying attention correctly, I would have seen that the mark engraved into one of the foundation panels that kept the house up. Red and black were also prominent colours in his room, the furniture varying between the three complimentary shades.

I sat down on his bed, a little uncomfortable, though I still wanted to hear more about this 'place', for lack of better word. It sounded like a project, if anything.

"And the second one?" I asked him as he padded over from a closet I'd scarcely noticed from the other side of the room and seated himself in a lotus position on his bed.

"The second is a production put on by our entire class at the end of the year, and not separately. However, this proves difficult, with only twenty of us, some having to play more than one part. We all became friends when we chose to work together for the first half, if you're wondering. This year, we've already performed our 'sequel', to the first, since it was so popular in our first year."

I nodded. "So we're all…actors? Or, learning to act?"

"Leaning to perform. We do other things, too. In fact, we have a whole class dedicated to music, one to drama, and one to costume. The reason it starts from fifteen is that they recruit people from nearby schools to attend part time, in the first group. Most of us are chosen and don't have much say in the matter, but you're one of the ones that came of their own accord."

Even though I could sense there was little more he could add at this point, my thirst to know more still hadn't been quenched. "Do you have any pictures?" I asked.

His unusual coloured eyes rolled to the ceiling, contemplating. "I have one." He mumbled, disappearing into his closet and pulling out a photo frame. He was cautious as he returned to me, sitting close enough so that I could easily see over his shoulder from where I was sitting if I turned.

"What on earth happened to the glass?" I asked. It was cracked, though not shattered, reminding me of a tree in the manner that individual cracks branched out, making it slightly difficult to see what was underneath in places.

"I dropped it." He answered quickly. Choosing to dismiss this, I peered down closer at the image.

There was a picture, with eleven of us-me included, all dressed in plain-black clothing and various levels of costume makeup. We all varied in appearance significantly. A guy with skin that looked a ghoulish blue grinned with the sharpest teeth I ever remember seeing, a pair of twins, one painted black, and one white stood to the side, chests pressed together. A small, cheerful looking boy who resembled Itachi a little, even with slight wrinkles under his one visible red eye. A tanned guy with tattoos on his face that made it seem as though his face was held together by stitching, was scowling at an albino with bright magenta eyes and a cheeky smirk, and a small girl with blue hair holding a paper-crane was standing next to a tall ginger boy with many piercings, her head resting on his shoulder. I was off to the bottom left of the picture where the crack seemed to have begun; one of the shortest and wedged in-between Itachi and an even more solemn-looking redhead. Despite that, his irises were a warm, chocolaty colour, and our shoulders brushed one another teasingly as if good friends. My heart jumped slightly as I tried to memorize these faces, silently apologizing in my head for ever forgetting them.

"And this, is our group?" Looking at him for conformation. He nodded, his eyes trained on the cracks which could so easily be made into fragments, should the frame be mishandled any further. Part of me questioned why he hadn't removed it, but my own penchant for discord kept me from asking.

"What are we called?" I wondered allowed.

I hadn't expected it to be too mind-blowing, maybe named after a colour, or a number. I assumed we were allowed some freedom while choosing names, but then I imagined it would have to parallel the other group somewhat. But little did I know I would soon fall in love with the word he uttered, once again. So what if it was for a second time? I would learn to love this second life I'd been given, while hunting for my old. Which also meant playing along with what he and Ino said.

With a devious smirk, he responded.

"Akatsuki."

'And remember to laugh 'cause you're living in a crazy world,
Where you'll never guess what could happen next.'


And that's a wrap on our little 'prologue'! Let the games begin indeed.

Btw, this whole 'project' idea is completely my own, so it might be a little confusing. Feel free to ask if you didn't understand Itachi's explanation, although it should become clearer in later chapters anyway...It seems to be a running theme for me to put Deidara in stranger's cars...and then living with them. -_-' (see other SasoDei)

'Hermit-revolution', don't kill me, but there might still be some spelling mistakes. XD

And thank you for reading, I'm handing out delicious introductory marshmallows of Sasodei doom to reviewers. :D