Deidara
Deidara's eyes widened. Giant shuriken! It was coming right at him. Deidara saw its edge, gleaming (that isn't possible), slicing through the air, slicing through him…
He heard a voice, and blinked. The vision of the paper blade's razor-sharp edge slicing cleanly through his nose disappeared. The opposite was true of his heartbeat, which Deidara had not heard before. He heard it now, loud and clear.
Clay, his trusty steed, brought him back down to earth, where Deidara stumbled off his back and leaned against his side, swallowing to moisten his mouth. Deidara wrapped his arms around the bird. He knew Clay was under his control, so the bird could not have brought him down. He had brought himself down. He hugged his clay bird anyway. If I can't hug my own creation, what can I hug, hm?
Konan sat on a fallen branch, leaning forward with her chin on top of her folded fingers, watching him. Her head felt clear again, and she noticed easily how Deidara seemed to be quite scared, how he hugged his bird as if seeking comfort, how his hands trembled. She found it very odd. What could this strange behavior mean?
"Deidara," she called. He stopped petting his owl and stepped back, turning to face her. His face was slightly flushed; whether from embarrassment, exertion, or fear, it was impossible to say. Konan unclasped her fingers and stood up. "Why were you hugging your bird just now?"
Deidara glanced back at Clay. "I was thanking him, hm. I know I have control over him, so he didn't really do anything... but it still feels like it wasn't me who landed, it was him, hm."
Konan unmade the paper shuriken she had thrown at him. "And why did you feel the need to thank him for landing?"
Deidara shivered. He glanced back at his bird before trying to describe his experience. "Because I was scared, yeah. When it came at me, it was like time slowed down, yeah. I-I thought it was gleaming, like metal, even though paper can't do that. And then… I just froze… I... " He shivered again. Konan observed that his breathing was faster and harder than it had been before he tried to describe it, and his face was more flushed. They should stop.
She walked up and punched him lightly in the shoulder. She wondered how people of this world comforted and reassured each other outside of playful, friendly contexts. Until she learned that, this gesture would have to do.
Deidara blinked. What - huh? That was weird, yeah. Does that mean it's over?
Konan retrieved a nearby supply of water and snacks. He relaxed at the sight of them. Clay spread his wings, and the two of them sat down to eat in his shadow. Well, Deidara ate; Konan continued to watch him.
After Deidara finished a single small package of gummy fruit snacks, Konan spoke. "Why were you frightened?"
He stopped chewing. Why was I? "I guess…" he began. "I think… It was… the thing coming toward me?" He flipped his ponytail back. "Yeah, I think that was it. I couldn't really look away from the edge of it, yeah. It looked like it was shining, and I thought it was going to cut my nose off, yeah."
"How was this sight different from other sights, as when I threw a spear at you?"
Deidara shook his head. "That's different. It doesn't slice, and it wasn't spinning. I didn't see it the same, hm."
Konan made sure she had a good view of his face before asking, "What if I made a modified shuriken that looked exactly like a piece of shrapnel?"
Deidara winced and froze, as if in pain. She sighed. "As expected."
She wondered about him, and about his original. The clones had roughly similar circumstances as their originals, mostly. Nagato and Yahiko had met and learned from Jiraiya sensei. Hidan had been a young runaway.
She didn't know any specific details about Sasori or Kakuzu's life stories, but they viewed other people in a similar way as their originals, suggesting a similar history of interactions.
But here was Deidara. He had experienced warfare, obviously. His original had too, but they had interpreted it in completely separate ways. Original Deidara had a love of war and wished to use the battlefield as a stage to show off on.
Clone Deidara was damaged so that any reminder of the battlefield was enough to turn him away from the thought of hurting anyone or anything. Even if they had had similar events happen to them, Deidara and his original had plainly interpreted them differently, which meant that they did not really have the same experience.
Konan had a growing number of questions about how this clone phenomenon worked. Why did they absolutely have to have the same abilities as their originals, to the point of importing a god into a world he didn't belong in? Why were the rules governing their personalities more flexible than that? What were the rules, anyway?
Deidara sighed too. Crap, yeah. It's about that again? Was there any part of his life that wasn't broken, that wasn't warped? Was he going to be haunted forever? Could he never escape? "Sorry, hm."
Konan waved a hand. "It does not matter. Are you ready?"
Deidara turned around to glance at her. "Um, yeah, but -" Why doesn't it matter?
Konan stood up before he could ask. "Then let's go."
Deidara resolved to ask later, if he didn't figure out what she meant during their training session. He climbed back onto Clay's back, and took off racing through the trees.
Deidara had decided today was a good day to begin that training program he'd thought of, so he had spent a while flying with Clay through the woods. He had a much greater appreciation for the strength of thin branches, or at least the strength they seemed to have when they got tangled in your hair at high speed.
His ability to fly low was vastly improved, though he still couldn't fly low enough to dodge everything. He had spent an hour flying slowly as well, simply learning how to turn more quickly. He had a lot of questions now about his hairstyle. Either he had to avoid flying in forests, or his ponytails had to go. Why did he have this hairstyle if his original had been in battle, dodging weapons and things?
That was exactly the point when weapons began flying at him from multiple directions. Dei wasn't ashamed to admit he had crashed into a tree after the first 3. He considered it an achievement to have made it that far.
He credited his original with his lack of surprise when the barrage of weapons did not stop. He had hopped into Clay's talons and had the bird carry him up through the branches, until he was in the open air and could return to the owl's back.
The whole time, weapons embedded themselves shallowly in the owl's surprisingly durable clay, remaining for only a few seconds before they were torn out by passing branches. Deidara had also not been surprised when smaller weapons appeared in the mix, ones that Clay couldn't shield him from.
Dei didn't actually remember what he had done about those. His memories were a blur of thoughts; the actual battle had been mostly left to his instincts and reflexes. He remembered a strange and pleasant clarity.
He wished for that clarity again, and it came, in the form of a storm of giant needles. Deidara found the time while maneuvering to think about Konan's motives. As Clay reared up and flipped to shield Deidara with one wing, Dei thought, I wonder why she's helping me today, yeah.
Deidara threw a small spider to blast a giant shuriken out of the way, and leaped off of Clay's back. We got a pretty good explanation last night, and Hidan was sleeping all the way back. She can't talk to no one else but him, yeah, and I did ask her to help me while Hidan couldn't.
Deidara leaped over a swinging sharp-edged something, landed on the trunk of a tree, and ran up it. This must be fun for her, yeah.
It was. It was very fun. Konan found the time to think of how grateful she was that Yahiko and that boy were both taking up the healing arts and applying them to plants, and this thought did not cause her pain.
Deidara rejoined Clay on a high branch of the tree, beginning to breathe heavily. His legs were starting to feel something. It wasn't quite an ache; it was more pleasant than painful, just a deep feeling of warmth.
He felt his chakra flow surge. He grinned and took off racing again, zipping along a route he had already raced through, which was now cleared of all the branches and twigs he had hit the first time.
Konan ended the onslaught earlier than he had expected. Deidara landed on the far side of the lake and waited. Most of a minute later, she joined him, breathing heavily. "Oh, right, yeah. You spend a lot more chakra than I do, yeah?" he realized.
She nodded.
Deidara dismounted. "Wanna rest again?"
She accepted his offer, and they sat once more beneath Clay's spread wings. Deidara ran his fingers over the minor marks left by weapons and branches. They looked almost healed. "How'd Hidan cut all the way through, yeah?" he whispered.
"Wind chakra is very powerful," Konan answered. "He was very angry, so he would have used quite a lot of it. Don't piss him off that badly again if you value your life."
Deidara shivered. "I'm not going to, hm." He peered closely at the underside of Clay's wing, failing to see any marks now. "It's just incredible, yeah. Those giant shuriken could cut me in half, and they barely leave a dent in him.
If Hidan got mad at me and Clay wasn't around to block it, it might be like - Have you ever seen movies where someone gets cut up, but they look totally intact for a few seconds after because whatever cut them up was that sharp? Like that, yeah. I might not even notice, yeah."
"I have not seen any movies, and I have no wish to." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. She had enough on her mind without trying to cram a whole world in there.
Deidara saw that she was going to be resting for some time. He brushed his ponytail out of the way needlessly. "So, about last night, yeah."
She smiled. Of course he would want to ask. She'd been expecting it. "You may ask, but be warned: there are some questions I will not answer."
That's fine, hm. "So, hm, does Hidan really need to drink blood like vampires do? And there are other people who need to do that? And you're, um, like that?"
Konan said, "Yes, yes, and not quite." She formed paper claws and showed them to Deidara. "I do not need to drink blood as he does." She looked down at their tips. Their tips curved back, with little jags that would wound even something that managed to escape. The claws were highly efficient killing tools.
"But I am dangerous. It was not wrong of Yahiko to ask about me in the same way," she murmured softly. The claws weren't dangerous on their own; they were only tools. But they were tools she hadn't consciously invented, which begged the question: Why did such lethal features wait in her mind, needing only the proper mood to be manifested as parts of her body? If she could be revealed for what she truly was, her body reshaped according to her real nature, what kind of monstrous creature would she look like?
Deidara silently digested that. He swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry throat, and then remembered something that had been said. "Maybe..." he began. "Maybe not in body, but in mind?"
Konan shrugged. That was one of the questions she wasn't going to answer. It was too much like the questions she already asked of herself.
Deidara sighed. "I don't get it, though." He shook his head. "The whole reason the vampires are angry is because of Jashin sama, but he's not a Jashinist! They're mad at him for being a Jashinist, and you talk about him like he's the best example of all Jashinists, but he's not one. I don't get it, yeah."
Konan dissolved her paper claws. Something tight in her throat relaxed when they were gone. "His original was. You're right - it is not fair for him to have inherited this hatred from his original. He has to take the burden of things he's never done, things he hasn't even been. But regardless of how fair it is, that's what he must do."
"This is so weird, yeah," Deidara continued. "What about… I don't know, anyone else? Why do none of us have originals that are so...so…"
"Different from you," Konan finished.
Deidara blinked. "Yeah. Why is he different and we aren't?"
Konan looked sideways at him. "That is not true." She sat up and oriented herself toward him. "Hidan is the only one whose original has been clearly described, who you can hold up for a clear view of the differences. You and the others are different, very much so. However, I don't talk about it, and it doesn't make such a difference in how I interact with you. You don't see it clearly."
Deidara thought about what he did know of his original. Hmm. If he was the sort of guy who'd blow up whole villages, yeah - Dei's mouth moistened - then he must have been really different from me. He'd say completely different things than I'd say, he'd act different, you couldn't act or speak or even look the same way around him probably. "You're right, yeah. I've been trying not to think about it."
"Neither have I," Konan whispered.
Deidara guessed now was a good time to be quiet. He guessed correctly.
The water of the lake whispered quietly as a few scraps of wind made it through the trees, making it lap softly on the dirt. Deidara watched a fallen leaf on the ground not far from him which had as many holes as it had leaf material remaining. He remembered something interesting.
"Hey, have you ever thought about nets, hm?"
"Nets?"
"Yeah, hm. They're the only thing where, if you tear them, they actually have less holes than they started with."
Konan tilted her head. "Good point."
Deidara smiled. "I don't remember where I read that, yeah."
They sat in silence. The distant chirping of a bird caught Konan's attention. Her insides did not feel right, listening to it sing so happily. When did a shinobi ever sit and listen so leisurely, without expectation? She had done so a long time ago, back when they still used the building Jiraiya sensei had housed them in. Back then, they had been children playing at being ninja. She bit her lower lip.
A few more minutes passed, and then she could take no more. Without warning, she shot to her feet, lifting Clay's wing above her head as she did so. "I will return," she told a startled Deidara. "Your maneuvering among trees needs work. Continue."
Deidara held his startled position until he couldn't hear her. He listened for anything that could have caused this. The only thing he heard was a bird singing somewhere, and it sounded happy.
Sasori
Sasori sat on the reception desk. Laurie sat beside him. He had just finished telling her what Kakuzu had told him. "Which is why I chanced coming here today," he finished.
Laurie looked out the front windows. "Good day to chance that."
There was nothing special for her to be looking at. Nothing was outside. She did not have a shinobi's sense for significant events happening. Yet, they both felt that today was different. It was quiet. Too quiet. They sat in tense silence, waiting for something.
Sasori's cellphone rang. He realized he had been waiting for it to. I really need to ask her more about how this works. I'm not used to being psychic. "Hello?"
"Hello." Itachi's voice was forcibly calm. "May I ask what I am looking at?"
"That depends. What are you looking at?"
"A car that appears to have crashed itself on a pile of bicycles."
Sasori's eyes widened. His gut complained as if it had been punched. "Oh no, they didn't…"
He heard sounds on Itachi's end. After a few minutes, Itachi said, "I missed the accident, but someone at the scene says the man inside was not fatally wounded. He was middle-aged, with mostly brown hair and scars on his left hand. He's in the hospital. All I am looking at is the wreckage, which nobody can untangle."
Sasori turned on speakerphone and put it on the desk between himself and Laurie. "Itachi, I have no idea how to explain what happened. I have no idea how they found out about my boss. I didn't even ask for this. I did not organize this in any way. I swear that all I did was leave the ones I fixed over the weekend by the entrance to the park. I didn't…" He put his face in his hands. Oh my god. A car plowing into a crowd of small, fragile… "Itachi, what kind of car was it?"
"I know little about cars," Itachi apologized. "It's just one of the regular cars that anyone may drive. It is a larger model, one you would see families with."
Sasori whimpered. Oh god. "I…" Did I cause this?
Laurie glanced between him and the phone. What should she do? What could she do? What was wrong? "Um, does this have something to do with bicycles?" she asked.
"I am looking at a car run aground on a reef of bicycles right now," Itachi summarized. "Do you two know a middle-aged man with brownish hair and scars on his left hand?"
She gasped. "That's our boss!"
"How are they?" Sasori asked. He couldn't quite keep the distress out of his voice. "The bicycles? How are they?"
Itachi sighed. "If I was someone else, I would be expressing extreme levels of disbelief right now. 'What the fuck' or similar sayings might be appropriate. Perhaps 'What the hell is going on.' Hmm… No, that wouldn't do.
All I can really imagine using is 'What the fuck,'" Itachi mused aloud while doing something. "They are very tangled together. This is probably why they're in such good condition. I see crushed handlebars and bent wheels. Would you mind telling me why you asked?"
Sasori tried to, but found that he was too emotional to speak. Why would they do this for me? Is it even for me? Hidan said they don't really feel, so it must just be because I can do things… But he couldn't believe that. He shook his head at Laurie.
"Sorry," she murmured at the phone. "He can't talk right now."
Itachi sighed again, verging into a groan. "I believe my day is over. Goodbye." He ended the call.
Sasori tried to take a deep breath, found he couldn't, and settled for trying not to sob. "So many…" he whispered.
Laurie patted him on the shoulder. "You're worried about them."
Sasori nodded. "I need to go look. To be there." He stood, holding himself up on the desk until the wobbling stopped. "You can come, if you want."
Laurie did want. Together, they went out to the back lot where Sasori parked his motorcycle. He geared up, waited until Laurie was sitting securely with her hands wrapped around his abdomen, then turned on the engine. The motorcycle came to life with a low rumble. Sasori looked down at it.
It was built for sturdiness and reliability, with wide wheels and a thick frame. The handlebars and seat were black, and the frame a dark red. It reminded him of a horse. He leaned down over the bars. "If there was any planning put into this, and you know about it, take me there," he ordered.
Sasori saw and felt nothing unusual during his ride. The only thing that struck him was how smooth it was. He felt and leaned into subtle dips, taking turns as smoothly as if he was on a flying steed. Is this how Deidara feels? The turns were random, and Sasori had trouble believing he would get anywhere, but at least he was going to enjoy the ride.
He enjoyed it a lot less when the motorized bike slowed to a stop in front of a horrible scene. Sasori paled, and his stomach made unhappy movements. "Oh god," he said yet again as he hopped off the bike without turning it off. "Oh, no."
Laurie fiddled with the handlebars as she had seen him do, but without the benefit of looking at them. She, too, could only stare. She fumbled more and more frantically without looking away until she finally made it turn off. Then she joined Sasori in staring at the carnage.
Bicycles surrounded the car on three sides. Some had been thrown all the way to the side of the road, minus a tire or seat, and those were the lucky ones. Sasori couldn't get a good look at how many frames were trapped underneath the large vehicle's heavy tires, but he was sure he saw some broken parts scattered beneath its body. In front of the car, thin frames bent around strong ones.
Thick mountain-bike tires had left dirt marks on clean bells. Chains broke and wrapped around other chains, and the whole assemblage was ready to shed leather and fabric scraps at the lightest touch. Sasori heard the metal and plastic screeching in his mind.
He told Laurie, "Look," when she joined him. His eyes roved over the pile. He knew what he was looking for, even if he couldn't concentrate well enough to think about it coherently. He hoped he wouldn't find it.
He found it.
He took Laurie's hand and pointed. "There's… There's the one...with the broken chain." He didn't see any white streamers or tricycle parts in the mix, thank the gods.
Laurie raised her hand and pointed. "Is that a kid's bike?" It was.
They don't grow up, Sasori rationalized. They can't. It's just like any other bike here. But he couldn't stop his stupid biased human brain from sending bad signals to his intestines, so he was forced to turn away. Breathing heavily, Sasori returned to his motorcycle.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus. He failed. Only one thought made it through his spinning head, and Sasori did not have enough focus left to recognize it as a bad one. He reached for his phone and selected a number from his contacts without really being aware of it.
"Get over here," he distantly heard himself mumble. He then heard himself give the name of the street he was on. How can anyone be that calm and collected? he wondered. Whoever that is saying that must be a very brave person. Or a nutball.
Laurie did not say anything, but only remained silent, looking over the twisted wreckage and glancing at Sasori sometimes. Condolences or any kind of reassurance would be insulting in this situation. The only right thing to do was lend dignity to the scene by seeing it and not turning away. So she did not turn away.
Time passed like that before another large, heavy vehicle arrived at the scene. Sasori looked up frantically, his heart in his throat, but saw it slowing to a stop. It stopped at a very respectable distance, and Hidan and Kakuzu got out.
Kakuzu nearly carried Hidan to them, as Hidan seemed incapable of even holding himself up. He was wincing continuously by the time Sasori could talk to him. "What the hell happened here?" Kakuzu demanded.
"Why?" Sasori asked at almost the same moment. "Why did this happen?"
Laurie looked around, lost for something to do. Kakuzu searched for someone to glare at. Hidan winced and snapped, "No fucking clue! Fuck! Fuck, I feel like everything in my entire fucking body is fucking shattered, and it doesn't fucking hurt. Shit! Why doesn't it?! Driving me up the fucking wall!"
"But do you feel anything else?" Sasori pressed. "Anything motivating? A reason why?"
"No!" Hidan growled. "I might be missing it 'cause I'm irritated as fuck, but I'm not getting squat."
Sasori couldn't believe that. No. That can't be true. He glanced at some of the bikes thrown to the side. It can't happen like that. Nothing can motivate anyone to do something like this, except for some very great feeling. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!" Hidan gathered the courage to flex his arm, and cried out in outrage at the lack of pain resulting from this action. "Gah! Seriou-fucking-sly, what the fuck?!"
Sasori shook his head. W-wait… He doesn't feel pain. No pain. No fear. Is it really such a big deal when there's no fear or pain? He still couldn't believe it. He could know that they felt no pain as much as he wanted, but he was never going to believe it.
His stupid biased human brain simply wouldn't accept a vision of being crashed into and broken that did not include pain and fear. Sasori put a hand over his eyes and breathed fast and hard. C-calm down. Calm down. Think straight. Think! Think!
He looked at the pile. Don't think of them. Think of the car. He looked it over, noticing what make it was, its color, what damage it had taken. The car. It still had bikes trapped beneath its thick tires.
"Kakuzu." I can think. Oh, thank somebody, I can think. "I'm actually really glad you're here," Sasori said. He hadn't thought of this before; it was just lucky accident that Kakuzu happened to be with Hidan when Sasori called. What would Hidan have done if he'd gotten here alone? He can hardly even move. That was a stupid decision to call him here.
Kakuzu had long since settled on glaring at Sasori. "Why?' he growled.
"Because you're the only one who can get that car off of them," Sasori told him. "Use your tentacles and pull it back. I'll try to pull anything beneath it out of the way."
Kakuzu glared harder. "Only if you promise me an explanation."
Sasori sighed. "Yeah, it's time I promised everyone an explanation. You, Itachi… Everyone." I haven't said anything to anyone except for Hidan. Why? But of course Sasori didn't have time to ponder his personal issues at this time.
Kakuzu accepted this and went to work, channeling chakra into the stitches on his left arm. He still shivered at the sight of them wriggling around, but he was getting better at hiding it. The idea of doing this in front of so many people made his stomach turn over, but he told himself to stop being such a wuss.
He made about half of the stitches on his forearm unravel, making a large enough gap for larger, thicker threads to emerge. He wasn't willing to unravel any more stitches than that. Would his forearm just come off? What about his bones? Did he have bones in there? He couldn't remember if he had ever been X-rayed.
These questions were horribly uncomfortable. Kakuzu decided to ignore them and focus on his threads. He wrapped a band of them beneath the front bumper, another two over the front and top of the vehicle, and another, thinner band behind it for stability.
Meanwhile, Sasori was flicking his fingers out and rescuing severed parts from underneath. Then, he turned to Kakuzu and lifted his hand, palm up. Kakuzu nodded and lifted the front bumper, making sure to keep the vehicle from sliding backward.
Laurie, determined to be of some use, stepped forward and began to delicately tug apart handlebars and spokes. Sasori did the same for the formerly trapped bicycles before lifting them into the air and setting them down gently at the side of the road.
Torn scraps from handlebar wrappings and seat covers littered the ground. Kakuzu allowed the car to roll backward, slowly, until he could set it down without crushing anything.
With the car out of the way, Sasori joined Laurie in attempting to unravel the tangled bikes at the center of the wreck. She was no longer making any headway, and after trying every bicycle he could reach, neither did he.
Sasori determined that the only thing to do would involve taking the bicycles apart.
Better to do it in a controlled, purposeful way than to go at them with a blowtorch at random, he consoled himself. "I need to go back," he told Laurie and Kakuzu. "These things need disassembling."
Hidan groaned loudly and frustratedly. Kakuzu had lain him down on his back next to the motorcycle. He had to admit the warm pavement was warm and therefore nice, but the unshakeable conviction that his body was shattered to pieces was still pissing him off and the flat surface did not help. "And what about me?"
"It's the same place, so I'll take you," Sasori offered. "Laurie, see what you can do for the ones I got free. What condition are they in? That sort of thing."
He got on his motorcycle, and Kakuzu helped load Hidan onto the seat behind him. Hidan refused to have his arms positioned for him and wrapped them around Sasori's abdomen himself. "I'm not useless," he griped.
"If he felt it he'd know. It's really that strong. I'm not some wimp! If it hurt, I'd be more able to move, but it doesn't fucking hurt! Feels like I might only be about to be in massive pain any second now, and that's a shit ton worse. It's a stupid fucking brain trick! Assholes."
Sasori sighed and tried not to move. "Yep, illusions sure are a pain." He made sure to give his motorcycle an appreciative pat on the center of the handlebars before starting the engine. He hadn't known where the accident was, yet he'd made it, and it was safer to be more thankful than less.
If it was just luck, gratitude won't hurt, and nobody's going to laugh at me in these circumstances.
Hidan whimpered in greatest unhappiness as they drove off. "I haven't caught shit the whole time I've been here, except for the mind trick. What was I even called for?"