Scorpling Prolouge

PROLOGUE

It’d been a while since he’d been here last.

Deidara dismounted from his clay bird and stepped onto the grassy ground. He was on his way to visit his deceased master, his Danna, Sasori. Sasori had died a month earlier, in the old Akatsuki hideout that sat on the border of the Wind country and the River country, fighting his grandmother and a young chuunin from Konoha.

Deidara channeled the chakra to his feet and crossed the river to the busted entrance of the lair. He bristled angrily as he remembered what had destroyed the opening. The pink-haired chuunin from Konoha, Haruno Sakura, the one who had helped kill Sasori. She’d used her inhuman strength to smash the rock guarding the entrance to pieces.

Deidara’s eye adjusted as he stepped out of the bright sun and into the cool darkness of what was now Sasori’s tomb. Puppets lay in broken pieces everywhere, and Deidara was once again reminded of the fight that had occurred here. And it was all his fault.

Deidara was the one who had caught the Ichibi’s jinchuuriki, his assigned jinchuuriki. It had been Sasori who hadn’t caught his own yet. When the Kyuubi jinchuuriki had shown up, Deidara had shown off. He’d bag two jinchuuriki, he thought smugly. And with that, he flew off on his bird, leaving Sasori to fight the old hag from Suna and the kunoichi from Konoha. He regretted that decision deeply. His cockiness and his desire to be in the spotlight did this. Where had it gotten him? It had gotten his arm cut off, and what about Sasori....Sasori had died.

Tears pricked at the blonde nukenin’s eyes as he sidestepped another puppet. Because of his own foolishness, his partner, the only one he could ever call friend, was dead. If he had just waited, just stayed by Sasori’s side, then maybe Sasori would still be alive. There was even the off chance that they’d even bag the Kyuubi jinchuuriki. Besides, that’s why the Akatsuki works in pairs; to back one another up. And what had Deidara done? Left his partner to his death.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, he knew deep in his heart that it was. No matter that Sasori had an army of 10000 puppets at his disposal. No matter that he was a S-ranked nin, no matter that he was a brilliant fighter, the hard and cold fact was that none of this helped Sasori in his last fight. He was fighting against his grandmother, who had raised him, taken him in when his parents died, taught him the art of puppetry. Contrary to the popular belief that Shinobi were supposed to be cold, heartless, assassins, most had weaknesses. Sasori had a heart. Deidara knew that after years of serving as Sasori’s partner. The red haired puppet master from Suna had a heart, a heart that longed for his parents embrace, one last time.

He’d gotten the embrace, Deidara thought bitterly. And he paid the price. He died in his parents arms. Leaving Deidara alone.

“Why, un? Why? Wasn’t I good enough for him? What didn’t I have un? What couldn’t I do to save him from this cruel fate un?” Deidara thought shakily as he approached Sasori’s final resting place. He remembered when he’d come here after getting his arms sown back on by Kakuzu. How he’d wept over Sasori’s cold body, stared into those eyes that would never see again. How he had stayed there until dark, when Tobi came bounding in to see what was taking his senpai so long. How he had wiped his tears, barked at Tobi to get the hell out before he made art out of him. How he’d unsteadily gotten to his feet, whispered a promise of return to Sasori’s deaf ears, and then left.

This was the first time in about 3 weeks that he’d returned. He had had a mission with Tobi, and then a string of solo missions that had allowed him no time to come here to pay his respects. After making up an excuse, he’d flown down here, putting Tobi in Zetsu’s care, to see his Danna again.

Deidara was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see the puppet arm in his way. He tripped over it and landed face first in the dirt.

Groaning, he sat up, and was immediately greeted by a child’s laughter. He froze, a hand straying instinctively to his side, where his clay pouch was. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here, only himself and the dead puppet bodies. And yet, the clear tinkling laughter floated to him, from the sight where Sasori lay!

With a gasp, Deidara scrambled to his feet, running the rest of the way. If there was a child here, the parents would be near by. Pickpockets, most likely, come to use the remains of the puppets as ways to make money. “No one would desecrate Sasori’s resting grounds”, Deidara thought angrily as he sprinted towards the laughter. “I’ll kill them un!”

Deidara skidded to a stop as he arrived at where Sasori’s body was supposed to lay. Except, Sasori’s body wasn’t there. His mother’s and his father’s were there, untouched, but Sasori did not lay in their embrace. Deidara dropped to his knees as the source of the crying revealed itself.

Lying between the puppets of Sasori’s parents was a small naked male infant, with a tuft of bright red hair. The baby’s eyes were closed as he cooed to himself, but when he noticed that he wasn’t alone, he opened his eyes, making Deidara gasp. The baby had brown eyes, of a shade that Deidara knew belonged to only one person.

“Sasori no Danna....”

OWARI ~ END!