• Deidara stood beside Sasori just hours ago. And now he was gone. Dead. He should be happy that his partner was gone.

    So why did he feel so empty?


    Deidara blinked and looked around him. It was dark, and he shook his head slightly. He must have been standing in the same spot for hours. He took one last look at Sasori’s scattered body and left. He vowed to get revenge.


    The next day Deidara got to the D-site early. He had one pouch full of his clay, while the other was empty. He cleaned up the entire area, including Sasori.

    He missed how they argued, he supposed. Sasori was the only one who would talk about art. Even if their views on it differed, it didn’t matter. They both loved art.


    The next day Deidara found himself drawn back. Why he felt the need, he didn’t know. Deidara stared at the body in front of him. It looked like a puzzle, just waiting to be solved.

    When he left, he kept one thing with him. He zipped Sasori’s heart into his side pouch, securing it effectively.


    Deidara settled himself next to Sasori’s now assembled body. The only two things missing was the red-head’s heart and his soul. He wondered why he missed the puppet.

    He certainly didn’t agree with his art. Look at what happened to the immortal. But he couldn’t bring himself to say I told you so.


    Deidara hugged the non-moving criminal. He didn’t know why. Maybe he really needed a hug. He knew that he missed the man. A lot.

    But he didn’t love him.


    Sasori filled up most of his days. Deidara thought about how often the two had been together. Missions, team meetings, dinner, sharing a room with childish bunk beds, taking walks, arguing 24/7….


    He smiled as he flew along on his giant bird. Sasori had never been a patient man. He he had always yelled at Deidara when he was late for anything. Missions, dinner, bed.

    It had been comforting. And then the idiot had to die on him. Didn’t Sasori know that without someone sane to be there, Deidara would be forever broken? Alone?


    The blond finally decided to take his revenge. He needed the people who killed his master dead. They would go to hell. They had to, for killing the puppet genius.


    Deidara prided himself on never once crying. He had his arms ripped off a couple of times each. Then sewn back on again. He had fallen off his birds a few times. He had crashed a few times. But he never cried.


    Deidara made a plan. For Sasori, he mused. He knew what his enemies could do; he would win or die trying.


    Deidara woke up the next day. He had camped out next to Sasori, and he knew what he had to do. He kept Sasori’s heart at the bottom of his left clay pouch.


    Deidara started work while flying. It always gave him a rush, and he smiled and put his hands in the air for a moment, behaving like a child. He lowered them and continued working.


    This was his greatest creation. Deidara stared at it proudly. It was a life-size model of Sasori, and he finished it off by taking off his own cloak and covering the clay model with it.


    The Sasori-bomb was made out of his finest clay. Most explosive, too. It had taken three large bags of it, but he didn’t care. He stuffed as much of his regular clay and other explosive things into his chest mouth.


    Finally he spotted the Leaf Village. He grinned and stood up on his bird. All of his loose clay was just about finished being chewed.


    He was close enough for the villagers to start worrying. They sent random ninjas to kill him, but he just urged the bird closer. He circled higher and higher, carefully holding the Sasori-bomb close.


    How Deidara wished he could have had more time to make another large bomb. That way he could have held onto one while tossing the other at the villagers directly. It would have been more deadly.


    The blond man finally decided to drop the bomb. He sent it careening towards the village tower. He went quickly to the heart of the village, putting his hands together in a familier sign. He pushed his bird faster, aiming downwards in a steep dive.


    Deidara finally cried. He let the tears flow for his master. He missed the red head so much. Nothing could change that.


    His last moments, his life didn’t flash before his eyes. It belonged to both him and his puppet master.

    The blond remembered the first time he had met Sasori. The red head was in his puppet, and he didn’t get why he was partnered with such an ugly man. But eventually he got to see the real Sasori. Kind of.

    Sasori had shown himself to Deidara three weeks after he had met the younger criminal. Deidara had been on a rant about art, and finally Sasori could take it no longer. He had tried to prove how art is eternal by showing his true body. Clothes on, of course.

    Another time. They were walking through the woods. Deidara had introduced flying after a little while of walking. He didn’t want to walk forever, and of course the red head agreed. It would take longer not to fly. Deidara could remember Sasori’s freaked out expression. It was hilarious.

    Going faster now. Sasori tried to cook. He ended up burning himself, and Deidara had to throw water onto him, and Sasori was mad for weeks. But Deidara made sure to do all of Sasori’s shifts for food.

    Flickering by. Swimming. Raiding. Talking. Arguing. Smiling. Grumbling. Pretending. Ignoring. Laughing.

    It all led up to Deidara’s death. He smiled through his tears for the last time and shouted his parting words.

    “For Sasori-sama, un! Katsu!”

    He was finally at peace.