XII

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Arc XII Chapter 4

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Explosions raged on in the sky above Sunagakure. The battle between their domestic explosive expert Deidara and the red haired Gaara, Kazekage and protector of the Sunagakure, had commenced. The two clashed amidst a storm of ballista bolts saturating the air. The village stood at Gaara's side. The village fought Deidara with all its might, even when in vain. They failed spectacularly, a myriad of missing tags exploding all around him. They desperately tried to down his flying clay bird with all the fire power at their disposal. So far, success hadn't graced them.

Deidara dodged the incoming bolts and tags with ease, skilfully navigating through the skies of Sunagakure. The explosions illuminated the cold night, and so did Deidara's infallible art. Detonations saturated the sky. His creations and chakra set the sky ablaze.

Yet Gaara's impenetrable defence stood. The Kazekage floated above the ground on his bed of sand. His sand defended him, shielding him against Deidara's attacks. Clay met his sand. Sand prevailed. The Kazekage defended his village and home with unyielding determination. The boy controlled the flow of sand with precision, his demeanour calm and resolute, his iconic gourd on his back. He had come a long way since the last time they had met. Would it be enough, though?

The desert winds intensified, carrying with them the golden sand of the desert. The final stage was set.

“... ... ...” Asami observed from her chair. The battle raged on, with both sides seemingly equally matched. Tobi and his straightened back provided her with a suitable sitting location. They had received some undue visitors. They didn't last long, their corpses littering the sand. Thanks to Sasori's efforts, she hadn’t needed to lift even a single finger.

“Aargh”, Tobi grunted, complaining. “Asami-senpai, could you please ...”

Her glare shut him up. “Silence, Tobi, chairs don't talk. They sit still.”

“But ... But ... But ...”

Asami dismissed his complaints with a wave of her hand. “No buts. And now continue playing chair, Tobi. The role befits you. Anyway, do you think our explosive artist will prevail, Sasori? He appears to be ... hard pressed, unless I am mistaken.”

“Hmm ...”, Sasori pondered his words carefully. “Hard to tell ... I told him to take plenty of clay ... I always suspected that he would die young, but the day his art fails him hasn't come yet. Deidara still holds the upper hand. He holds the initiative. He is on the attack. The Kazekage, meanwhile, is primarily on the defensive.”

Asami stroked her chin. “So far ...”

“Not to mention, Deidara still has his trump card up his sleeves”, Sasori grumbled.

“We will see ... We will see ...” Asami conceded.

Time proved the puppet master correct. Deidara’s trump card changed the tide of battöe, bestowing victory upon him. Deidara targeted the village, taking Sunagakure hostage. It was a devious trick, one of the more underhanded sort. The Kazekage had no choice but to protect the village. His sand aided him, shielding the village below against the full might of Deidara's art. The boy succeeded. The village survived, but the price he paid was steep. His sand, his chakra were spread thin. He weakened, compromised his defence in order to save the village. That was his end.

Deidara eventually returned, the captured Kazekage still alive, albeit unconscious, tightly gripped by the talons of his clay bird.

...

...

...

“...” Sasori grumbled from below, from the ground. “Took you long enough, Deidara. Are you finally finished?”

Deidara grinned. “Don't worry, Master Sasori, Asami, I have him. We can leave now.”

“...” Sasori approved despite his grumbling, “Was about time, Deidara. I hate waiting.”

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Dammit! Kankuro gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. Crow. Black Ant. Salamander. His puppets lay broken, defeated, destroyed in the sand, their limbs thrown all over the place. He had faced Sasori, the legendary Sasori of the Red Sand, mythical master puppeteer, genius craftsman, creator of countless puppets, and now member of Akatsuki and sworn enemy of Sunagakure.

Kankuro lost, soundly defeated by the old master. He had been toyed with. He was played from the very beginning. He never stood a chance. Sasori created his puppets. He knew their tricks. He knew their strengths. He knew their weaknesses inside out.

Sasori's tail of steel danced through the air, each blade laced with deadly violet venom.

Kankuro narrowed his eyes. Sasori had got him. His tail grazed his chest. Though a small nick, yet it was enough to spell his doom. The venom performed its evil deed, destroying his body and eroding his spirit.

Sasori chuckled, the utter contempt and dismissive tone in his voice apparent. He hardly considered him even remotely his equal. He was the master. He a mere student. “Your puppetry skills are commendable, boy, and yet your age, your lack of experience fails you. A real shame that you have chosen to die here today, yet I feel generous, boy. You have entertained me. Thus, I will grant you three more days to live. Three more days before my poison will end you. Enjoy your gift.” Sasori and his enigmatic companions left, disappearing amidst the wide sand. They were four in total. Sasori. The man who had attacked Gaara. Another man with an orange mask. And an unknown girl, her face concealed behind her straw hat. Three men. One girl. Two known enemies. Two unknown enemies.

“...” Kankuro's eyes closed, his breathing slowing, his vision blurring, his consciousness fading, left alone in the unforgiving desert to die.

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Night had arrived, and they halted, taking refuge around a crackling bonfire.

The fight had taken a toll on Deidara. It cost him his left arm and plenty of chakra. He was tired, Sasori less so. But Deidara needed a pause. He needed some sleep to replenish his strengt, especially considering what was about to come. According to Pain, the sealing ceremony was expected to last three days and three nights straight. Everyone should be thus well rested. Because even the slightest misstep was dangerous.

Deidara was thus sleeping. So was Tobi. Sasori was doing Sasori things, staring at the fire, which finally allowed her to act under the cover of the night.

Unseen by anyone, Asami approached Gaara, the unconscious jinchuuriki. Not out of a sense of pity, but rather due to curiosity. His body ... was leaking chakra. Minuscule amounts admittedly, but still ... The lingering trace of chakra was noticeable, tickling her sense, even when her companions failed to notice the leak. The chakra was wild ... Raw ... Different ... Different from normal chakra. Different from human chakra. The chakra was calling her, inviting her, luring her.

Asami heeded its suave call. Here she was. Her hand touched his cold, lifeless shell. Her sharingan activated, awakening on its own.

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Darkness. Darkness. Darkness everywhere, no matter where her eyes wandered. Asami was surrounded by the depths of darkness, yet where there was darkness, there was also light. A dull, dim light loomed at the horizon. The sound of grinding sand, the soft whistle of wind entered her ears. Sand covered the ground and ancient murals lined the way. The atmosphere was heavy. The place felt like a prison.

Where was she?

A massive gate emerged before her, a pair of baleful yellow eyes fixed on her from behind the bars. The thing addressed her, his high pitched voice running through the air. “Who are you, human child, to enter my realm?”

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