Chapter 17: Run Away No Jutsu

Konan

Earlier in the day, Konan had found herself up in the crumbled corner of the roof again. The wind blew around it in the same way it had previously, so that if she closed her eyes the illusion of perching on the side of a wild mountain returned. She laid a perimeter of paper butterflies to warn her if anyone approached before settling in to maintain this illusion for as long as possible. She liked it.

With her claws (No, just fingers. Where did that come from?) dug into the stone beneath her, Konan took deep breaths. Finding Hidan passed out this morning had initially helped her mood. She had thought, Good for him. I should ask how he came by this form of pain relief. But, as the hours passed and her periodic checking revealed that he was still unconscious, Konan began to suspect that something might be wrong with him. Dangerously wrong. Her fingers now gripped the stone even more tightly, and she forced her mind back to taking slow, calming breaths.

Of course, the word "dangerous" barely applied to Hidan. No form of physical harm could kill him, except perhaps the kind that involved literally destroying the physical bonds that made up his body. Mentally, he seemed to be very resilient. He had to be with that power. On the one hand, this was true. On the other hand, he had died before. It wasn't even very difficult for his enemy to do, conceptually almost absurdly simple. Konan wondered about this paradox as she again reminded her breathing to slow down and tried to loosen her jaw. A low growl slipped out before she managed this last.

It was possible. She had no idea what that woman had done to him, after all. Konan's claws dug into the stone again and she didn't bother stopping another low growl. If he had any lasting harm… The image of ripping long, painful gouges into skin felt very satisfying. Konan did not have any doubts that she would do exactly this if Hidan was harmed. Her hands tightened. Paper rustled.

She opened her eyes, dispelling the illusion. It was just a building. She was not the top predator of some wild paradise. Even so, she was the top predator inside. Konan stood up. It had been almost half an hour. It was time to check on Hidan.

She paused in the doorway to his room, alert for anything else. Hidan was lying with his arms stretched above his head in a yawning posture, which was distinctly not how she had left him. Some small motion drew her eye instantly. His fingers curled slowly. She rushed forward and sat next to him, placing her hand on the back of his neck and feeling with her fingers down the sides. His heartbeat was up. Was he awake?

She kneeled down next to his head, observed his breathing. Hidan's eyelids twitched, then slowly opened. He looked in her eyes with a drowsy look. "Hey."

Konan stared back, looking for any signs of lasting damage. "How do you feel?"

Hidan closed his eyes again, yawned. "Sleepy. Feels like I had a good nap. What time is it?"

Konan, as a ninja of the Village Hidden in the Rain, was of course an expert at telling time from the sun even through thick cloud layers. "It is around 2:30 in the afternoon."

Hidan opened his eyes wider and yawned, then raised himself up a little. "Shit. I don't usually sleep that long. What the fuck?"

Konan looked sharply back at him. "That's what I wish to know. What happened last night, Hidan?"

Hidan stopped, tilted his head. "Ummm…" Oh, crap. Konan rewound her memories back to his description of his memory problems. How strange…he only mentioned forgetting things he himself did. Perhaps his memory of events that happen to him is unaffected. That would be very good. Ignoring the low probability of something that specific, she waited for him to come up with whatever he could come up with.

"I remember there was this crying lady," he began. "That was weird as shit. Did you find out if she actually was a lady or not?"

Konan tilted her head quizzically. "What do you mean by that?"

Hidan sighed. "I didn't feel anything. Even after I heard her and I was paying attention to her, which helps me pick up the signals and shit, I didn't feel anything like crying. That's frickin' weird, which is why I was going over to find out what the fuck was happening."

Konan came to sit beside him. "Why does that make you question whether or not she was a woman?"

Hidan got a great idea and moved quicker than before, putting his head in her lap before she could resist. As he awkwardly rolled onto his back, taking care to lift his lower back clear of the bed before settling down gingerly to look up at her, he replied, "This isn't the first time I've been unable to get signals from people. It's only happened once before, but I'm pretty sure I know what causes it."

Konan lifted her hand slowly, lowered it, then decided to hell with it and curled her hand around Hidan's head to scratch around his ear. "Describe everything about this."

Hidan smiled and shuddered in pleasure. "There's not much to tell, really. Oh yes. The thing I mean, with once before, is Yes yes that, that is a good ring of cartilage to be tickling it's actually with one person before. Not a time, a person. If I can't get signals from someone, I can't, and that doesn't change. Earlobe?"

She obliged. "Ooh. Low-grade shit that leaves me wanting more. I love that sometimes. Yeah, um, you remember that demon kid? You remember how I had to figure out he was there and messing with us? Yeah, I don't get feelings from him either. I figured the most likely explanation is that it's because of the biggest difference, which is that he's a fucking demon, so I think being a demon causes that."

Konan kept tickling his earlobe with her thumb, and shifted her hand to scratch behind his ear with a pinkie. "If that's correct, the woman in the bar is a demon."

Hidan turned his head to bury his face in her stomach. "Yeah. I'm sorry for reflexively kicking her in the crotch. She's probably going to be mad and might come back now."

Konan patted his head. "That could be a very dangerous mistake, yes. But, I will be lenient with you this time. If she was unable to stop you from hurting her and was able to be hurt in the first place, it's unlikely she is as powerful as that boy is."

Hidan looked up and grinned. "Yeah! There are all kinds of demons in stories. Could all of them be real?" His eyes grew big. "That is the coolest research project ever."

Konan tapped her knuckles against his ear lightly. "Back to last night. So you remember reflexively kicking her in the genitals. A reflex is always a response to something. Why did you kick her? What did she do?" What are my chances of being able to render her limb from limb?

Hidan took her hand and held it as his face became totally blank. "I think she touched me…?"

Konan squeezed his hand. "Touched you how?" she asked patiently. "The demon boy was very invasive in his dealings with us, and you did not react. You don't dislike touching in general. What did she do that was different?"

Hidan frowned. He said, "I don't know. I just...I think… Did she even touch me? I think she did, but also didn't, and everything was weird. I don't know what the fuck happened!"

Some muscles in Konan's face tightened invisibly. What could he mean by that? What kind of touch could be remembered so poorly? Never mind that, how could he fail to remember anything that had inflicted so much pain? And it all comes full circle. She looked down at Hidan, and informed him in a gentle but firm voice that he'd better get comfortable. Hidan got a faint worried look on his face.

The interrogation began.

"Describe to me the full extent of your memory problems."

"Well, I told you some of it when we got me this awesome cloak. Sounds to me like you want a recap, so… Kakuzu has told me before that I seem to lose my memory of certain things. He says sometimes I say or do things that don't make any fucking sense or seem to him like something I wouldn't usually say. He asks me about them, even quoting me exactly, and I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. It sounds just as weird to me as it did to him. The funny thing is, sometimes after some interesting thing happens he gets this funny look in his face, and when I ask he says it's just like something I mentioned before. It made no sense and I didn't remember it then, but it makes perfect sense now. But there's no way I could have known about that shit."

"Are those the only things you fail to remember?"

"I think so. Well, actually, Kakuzu says that sometimes when a certain thing comes up I change the topic and get really evasive. I don't forget about it, but some things I try not to remember too much about. Does that count?"

"What things?"

"I don't have a list, like, memorized. Give me a sec." A minute or two later: "Well, I don't like hanging around religious people very much. I love talking about that shit, it's important, but it's different to be near it. I get a little shy about other's people holy things. I don't think I even know where a church is in this town, actually. I know there is one, but I almost don't want to know where it is. Umm…" 15 seconds later: "I got freaked out by an abstract painting once. It was all different colors mingling together so one end was some color and the other end was completely different and all the corners were completely different and there were spots of colors in there, but you couldn't see where anything changed." Hidan shivered from picturing it in his mind. "Don't ask me what colors were where. I don't want to look at it."

"How ironic. Your original was highly religious. Do you want to hear more about that?"

"Ummm…" Hidan put a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat again. "No?"

"You just said you enjoy talking about religion."

"That's different! I come from Other-Me and I still have a bunch of his personality and abilities and shit. Something super important like that, I probably still have some kind of connection to. Why do I need to hear more about it?" Hidan's tone started irritated and ended downright defiant. He crossed his arms and turned his head to look out at the room with a glare.

Konan decided this was a time where she needed to be cruel. As an added bonus, it would probably be really funny. She reached for a writing implement and produced a sheet of paper. On this she drew a symbol of Jashin large enough to take up the whole page. Then she shoved it in front of Hidan's eyes. He flinched and looked back towards her. She move the paper to follow him and suppressed a mischievous giggle as she pushed the paper down onto his face on a whim. His whole body jerked as he yelled. Konan no longer needed to suppress anything; it was a yell of pure discomfort and pain. She took the paper away, hid it behind herself. Hidan's face was contorted, muscles twitching like waves passing through his face. He whimpered and spent the next three minutes scrubbing his cheeks, brow, mouth, anywhere the symbol had touched.

Konan sat still, watching him and letting the pangs her conscience was sending roll through her. What was I doing? The avoidance was enough proof of a strange reaction to the symbol. I didn't need to do that. He said these things could invoke actual fear and pain. Did I think invoking that was funny? Yes, yes she had. And up until he yelled, it had been. His scrubbing was almost painful to watch. She continued to look.

Eventually Hidan opened his eyes and looked up at her, rubbing one cheek. Konan braced for him to ask her, "What the fuck was that for?!" She would not have an answer for him when he did. All she would be able to do was apologize. As she resigned herself and prepared an apology in her head, Hidan finished rubbing his cheek. Then he looked up at her. His expression bore no distrust or confusion. "Ugh. My face feels funny."

Konan blinked. "What?"

He repeated, "My face feels funny." Then he shivered. "I know, I know, who the fuck is afraid of colors, I should get my head checked, all that shit. Promise, it was just that one time. I haven't freaked out like that before or since. I'm cool with most shit. I can do whatever you need me to."

Konan stared down at him again. "Are you talking about your reaction to the painting with the colors?"

Hidan grew as confused as she was. "Yeah," he muttered. "Is something wrong?"

"What did we talk about after you mentioned the painting?"

"Did we?" Hidan blushed. "Aw shit. Fuck. Wait - is that a good thing? What did I forget? Did it tell you anything?"

Konan considered. "Yes. It did tell me something. After you mentioned the colors, I went back to the religious items. I found that strange because your original was highly religious. You demonstrated much stronger avoidance of the topic of his religion than any other, since you said you generally like to talk about religions, but you got angry and refused to talk about his. Then I drew the symbol of his religion on a sheet of paper and confronted you with it. You reacted as if it was causing you actual pain. It's why your face feels strange now. Then you seem to have forgotten about the entire subject of your original's religion ever being raised."

Hidan rubbed his cheek. "I'm getting kind of squirrelly just thinking of that. So what'd you learn?"

"It seems that discomfort is related to your memory problems, after all. If your discomfort is increased to a certain point, you protect yourself by getting rid of the memory of it."

Hidan stopped rubbing. "I hate Freud. Wait...that's another thing I'm getting uncomfortable about. What the fuck?"

"What is Freud?"

Hidan grimaced as if facing something deeply unpleasant. "Freud's this guy who came up with the idea of people having unconscious parts of our minds which hold onto things we can't or don't wanna deal with. And some other things, but I really don't want to think about him any more. What the fuck?"

Konan wondered aloud, "That is an important question. Where are your memories going in your mind when you 'forget' them?"

Hidan's arm, still up near his face, shot out to the side and hit her in the stomach. It was not a blow intended to seriously injure, but it was still a blow. Hidan froze and flushed. "Sorry…"

Konan relaxed. As soon as his arm had started moving she had tensed and now had one hand gripping his wrist and the other already having drawn a kunai. She took a few moments to collect herself and put it back. "No. The apologies are mine. I do know how to raise a question like that in my head, I simply did not take the necessary measure to avoid provoking you. At any rate, that was a much better reaction than forgetting. I would rather you allow that question to stay in your conscious mind as much as it can."

Hidan relaxed too. "Yeah. You shouldn't have to think of things all by yourself. I wanna help."

She patted his head. "So it seems your memory is linked to two things: information you shouldn't have, and subjects that make you very uncomfortable. I can't be sure of anything now, but there's a possibility that the two could have further links to each other. Take this." She handed him a paper. "Anytime you have a disproportionate reaction, write down your best guess as to what caused that reaction. Write down some other things too to help you remember the whole situation. If you end up with an extensive or interesting list and we have the free time to go over it, tell me."

Hidan took it and turned to bury his face in her stomach again.

"That was a polite way of implying we should get up now, Hidan."

"Awww…" He looked up with pleading eyes, but not serious ones. He did get up and swing his feet over to the floor to avoid falling on his face after a few seconds. "You're so comfy though…"

Konan could still feel his warmth on her lap. As are you. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving just yet."

She stood and bent down to examine him. "How do you feel, physically?"

Sasori

Sasori returned to the base very shortly after 5:00. After closing the door behind him, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Whew. His heart was beating wildly, a feeling he was forced to admit to himself that he enjoyed. Just a little. That was probably normal considering that "ninja" sounded like a very active position, but it clashed with his lifestyle. He did not consider telling anyone else unless bluntly asked.

He checked that his contraband did not make any distinctive noise or bulge in his pocket, and headed to the kitchen. Even if they still hadn't gotten a fridge to keep food in, something about the room was intrinsically appealing. He thought that might have something to do with its two entryways. Less space to be trapped, just like his work space.

Sasori ran through everything he had just been through, putting it to words in case he ever decided to share it as a story. The thought that he might do that someday was also oddly enjoyable. It seemed he had more appreciation for the company of others than he thought. He wondered if he wanted to make any changes to the story for entertainment's sake, then decided against. The truth was enough.

It had all started around 3, when the manager stopped in his doorway. That was never good news, even when he was stopping in to tell you it was break time. My boss must be one of the most talented men in the world to ruin break time. This was, of course, not break time. Sasori only got two breaks in his day: one for lunch, and one if he requested it in such a way that the manager couldn't make up a reason to refuse. He'd immediately slipped on his invisible suit of protective armor and continued to do what he was doing without looking or making any sign that he had noticed the man. The one rule of jungle survival: never show weakness.

The manager attempted to counter this move with his own: loom menacingly in the hopes of overwhelming the prey's ability to mask their anxiety. Little did he know just how good Sasori's mask was, or how little anxiety Sasori felt. It wasn't because the manager seemed harmless in any way, it was just a general thing. Sometimes Sasori wondered if he wasn't missing out on the emotional highs people with high reactivity seemed to enjoy, but far more often he had reason to be grateful he missed out on the lows. It seemed as if he had been custom designed for this kind of job.

Seeing that his countermove wasn't working, the manager walked up to Sasori and loomed closer. He didn't have any way of getting his employees to cower that wasn't illegal, so this was the best he could do. Sasori knew from general experience that the man's frustration would escape confinement long before his anxiety did. It took a long 5 minutes, during which Sasori was happy to note that this had begun just as he started to work on something and while he was next to some drawers, so he was able to root around in the drawers and draw out the task, pretending to be productive while the manager just stood there like a statue early for its appointment with a pigeon.

Eventually the man couldn't take it any longer. "You, engineer," he snapped his fingers. "I have some questions for ya."

Sasori put some random thing back in the drawer and stood up, deliberately taking no notice of the snapping. "Yes?" he inquired.

The manager grunted. "You been sneaking away from your space, boy?"

"No. I have only taken my lunch break for today, with your approval."

The manager's eyes narrowed. "You been up to anything on that 'break'?"

Aside from secretly recording the sound of your voice so I can edit the recordings together into a compilation and post it on a comedy website? No, nothing at all. "Just eating."

"Nothing else, boy?"

Well, this is the first time I've skipped that in favor of going through your office. I hope I didn't miss any good moments. "Nothing else. Why do you ask?"

The manager puffed out his chest and fixed Sasori with a pointed glare. "Because I got two employees in this business, and only one of them has been out of my direct sight today."

Sasori put on his concerned face. "Oh, no. Did something happen?"

"Damn right! I come back to my office after your little 'lunch break' and find that someone seems to have been going through my desk! My private desk containing managerial papers. I didn't hear nothing from the burglar alarms, so my pool of suspects is runnin' mighty low."

...That's really smart, actually. Set up a decoy target that someone would be expected to go for first before realizing it was a decoy, and make the decoy something highly complex that only you understand so they can't put it back in order. If the decoy being disorganized activated some kind of trap around the real thing, that could be a very good tactic… "That's terrible. Is anything important missing? Do I need to look for information to help you rebuild some files?"

The manager nodded grimly. "I noticed a certain very important document was missing, and I do think you can help me rebuild my records. Starting with returning that document!"

Oh, crap. The integrity of Sasori's mask provided a secondary layer of shielding after his anxiety spiked, giving him time to get under control. He's not smart enough to notice anything's out of order. He's just lucky enough to be keeping track of the one paper that looked vaguely interesting to me. I knew this. I thought that exact thought when I was in there, but I didn't follow it. I screwed up. Sasori made up something on the fly, not knowing whether or not it might get him in further trouble. "If you think the document was misplaced somewhere around here, I'd be happy to help you look. I just need to know what was on it. I keep some records of my own about how repairs proceeded, and it would take some time to read each piece of paper all the way through to see if it's yours or mine. What should I be looking for?"

The manager's face twisted in a strange way for a short moment. Sasori sighed internally. Just as planned. They were both in uncharted waters here, they would both have to make things up on the fly. Sasori was close to sure that he was better at this than his boss was. As long as that was true, and as long as he didn't make any more stupid mistakes, he was nearly in the clear.

The manager twisted and spluttered. Looks like I was right. The man took a few seconds before spitting, "Did you just ask to know what was on my confidential papers, boy?!"

Sasori replied, as smoothly as melted ice cream, "No. I only asked if it had some distinctive title, or an unusual font, or if it has long paragraphs on it. None of my papers have a title, or are typed, or have long written passages. I could tell if it was not mine at a glance, without reading a word."

The manager opened and closed his mouth in angry silence. He knew as well as Sasori did that his paper had sections on it with very large, eye-catching titles having to do with the accounts of the shop and his personal accounts. Sasori would not have noticed a thing if it did not. The man had the freakin' name of his personal bank, which had nothing to do with their business whatsoever, right at the top. Ka-ching.

Sasori took the opportunity to weigh his options. His boss thought he had the paper, and probably wouldn't have calmed down even if he had been able to produce bulletproof evidence he did not. Even if he had been able to produce such evidence, it would have changed not a damn thing. That was kind of freeing, in a way. When everything one does produces the same outcome, one can do anything they want with no fear of punishment. Inevitability.

The likely outcome could take one of two forms: the manager would either fire him, or he would not. Worse fates like legal action were out of the question. Sasori evaluated the odds of each outcome. If he fires me while I have something he wants, he both loses his chance to get it back and frees me to maybe pursue legal action against him since he can't punish me anymore. If he's smart enough to realize any part of this, he won't fire me. But is he smart enough, that is the question.

If he doesn't fire me, he has every opportunity to make my life a living hell. I'll become the new chew toy instead of the front-desk lady. I'm not sure about what he can do to stop me or threaten me if I decide to quit. Quitting isn't a justification for retaliation, and I don't think he's brave enough to try anything in real life even if he knew I had one. On the other hand, I actually like my job and don't want to quit. Crap. What are my options?

The manager stormed off, unable to think of a response. Sasori hadn't said anything incriminating, and he couldn't reveal his reason for keeping Sasori from helping without incriminating himself first. Once the door slammed, Sasori was unable to stop himself from smiling. This too was freeing. He had already set everything in motion. What outcome would appear, he had no control over. The options-evaluating could be done at his leisure. Sasori bent down to his work again, and completed the last two things he had to do in thirty seconds. Much as he had wanted to delay the man earlier, he simply could not resist doing his actual job.

Sasori made an extra effort to hurry up so he could get out in decent time. He wondered what exactly had happened last night, and supposed he was curious about Hidan and his condition. A sharp pain in his finger interrupted this thought. What the hell? I don't usually do that. As he rubbed the pinched finger that he had foolishly allowed to get in the way, he heard the manager's chair creak as he shifted inside his office. Sasori realized he was keeping an ear out for his boss' activities. Why am I keeping an ear out for him? The next second the chair creaked as the man stood up, and Sasori felt his heart take a wild leap. He picked up his tools and set to work again, suddenly aware that his desire to get home fast had nothing to do with anything outside the shop.

For the first and only time in his life, Sasori became aware after a few more jolts of awareness that he was doing sloppy work. He did not like doing sloppy work. This isn't worth it. I have keys, I lock up my own space at night, I'll come back really late and do a proper job when he isn't here. The manager's steps were heavy and frenzied sounding. Sasori realized he technically had an hour left. His boss could begin the punishment now. Sasori found himself seriously considering praying at Konan's feet as strings flew out, gathering all his things without taking up time he was irrationally convinced he didn't have. What am I doing, and why? I already considered the possibility that he would make my work life hellish. Why would him doing that now instead of tomorrow make any difference? Could he do something worse today that wouldn't happen tomorrow? How bad could anything be to make me feel like this? Regardless, Konan had made such casual mentions of death and murder. It was likely some of his instincts had been inherited from a world where people literally tried to kill him.

That was how Sasori rationalized that it made perfect sense for him to be slipping out the door at a pace that nearly made him trip over the waist-high bicycle that stood in plain sight outside, almost glowing in the sunlight. He swallowed the self-recrimations in favor of scanning his surroundings for any reason why there was a child's bicycle outside his place of work. No way some kid left it here. I'm not near any houses. What the hell is going on?

There was nothing. Sasori caught himself breathing hard, looking frantic (by his standards) and thinking with a tone of voice he had never known himself to employ. I...I'm getting paranoid. There was no sign of danger. There was nothing but bicycle tracks in the dirt. They seemed unusually shallow. Maybe somebody walked it here? He gave that thought the consideration it was due as a reasonable alternative, then tossed it in the trash. There were no footprints. Besides, now that he was making some effort to calm down and look more closely, he could see that this bicycle was broken. Its chain kinked in a way that could not allow it to move, and the front wheel was bent. It would have had to be driven here. There were no car tracks either.

There was a limit to how much Sasori could calm down. Just as soon as he reached that limit, the sound of the inside door to his work space slamming sent his heart into overdrive again. Sasori reached out and grabbed the bicycle, holding it to his side with both hands as he ran. He had no idea if the small window in his space was enough for the manager to see him do this. A few seconds later, as he leaped over a fallen branch with a grace that made this ninja idea seem quite plausible, he remembered to be grateful that this bicycle was small enough for him to do this.

At precisely 5:00, Sasori wiped the bicycle clean with a corner of his shirt as he caught his breath in his little garage. The oily sheen from his hands on its frame made his shirt damp. It would have to do. He dried his hands on his pants and lifted the bicycle again, carrying it to a relatively sheltered corner. There he stood it up on its stand, leaning it against the table for extra support. Then he left, closing up the garage and promising that he would return later and do something for it.

Now, in the kitchen, Sasori sat and caught his breath. Yes, it would make one hell of a story. Although, telling it would involve revealing just how not-calm he could get, which sounded like a death blow to his dignity. Let's table that for now. He had a bicycle with a broken wheel to attend to. This was no time to be crying over his pride.

Hidan walked in to check on him. He seemed as if he had not suffered for a single second in the past week. Hangover? What hangover? Sasori didn't have the energy to ask anything just yet, so he remained sitting and listened with half an ear to Hidan chattering on about his great ideas for the rooms and how he'd looked up where he would get stuff and how Konan would help and on and on and on. The background chatter was nice, somehow, which was why Sasori went along with Hidan pulling him to his feet by the arm and dragging him to the first training room so Hidan could chatter with arm gestures. The arm gestures seemed a little hypnotic. Sasori wondered if that was strange. He didn't care, it was pleasant.

After some time of this, Hidan was finally spent. He turned to Sasori, did not detect any hint of irritation, and considered himself highly successful. Their time together was interrupted by Hidan's stomach growling, compelling him to go and investigate this disturbance to his internal environment. Sasori leaned against the wall and tried to picture what Hidan had been trying to illustrate for him. He continued leaning like this until Deidara burst in and dragged him by the arm to hear "super interesting news about last night, yeah!"

Sasori and Deidara get blasted

Sasori had a day off. Well, he actually didn't, but he never did. That had never stopped him from taking the occasional one every few months. He now sat on an isolated bench, chewing on some sticks of whatever had been around his kitchen just to keep from being bored. He wondered why he took days off like this. The occasional few hours off was fine, but he had never figured out what other people did to use up a whole day. Why did he even bother? He supposed it was the principle of the thing, not that he had any idea what that principle was.

The last bite of the current stick of celery was flabby and did not crunch at all. He started a new one. If he had been capable of doing so, he still probably wouldn't have wondered why he even stayed at his current job. Then again, maybe he would have. It would take several years to discover it, but he was full of surprises. Sasori did not have any surprises for himself at this time, so he sat and wondered what to do.

Of course, there was the classic staycation, where he sat on a comfy couch at home and read a book or something. That was always his first attempt at an activity, and it worked for maybe an hour and a half before he always ended up cutting sticks of celery and hitting the streets from sheer boredom. Been there, tried that.

Next came what he was currently doing, which was sitting around and trying to find something interesting to look at in his environment. This was more difficult than the average Joe would have thought. For one thing, Sasori was very mechanically oriented. That meant his attention would be best focused on something mechanical, which was exactly what he was busy not doing. Why did he put himself through this torture? Sometimes Sasori wondered if there was something else he was looking for. Something that might swoop in and capture his interest against his will, kidnap it to a faraway land full of magic and adventure. In other words, he wondered if he was looking to meet anybody. Yeah, what were the odds of that.

He tried to people watch, but nobody was doing anything besides walking around and talking in tones he couldn't hear over the road noise. He tried to road watch instead. A shiny, new, cheap car was cruising in from his left at faster than the speed limit, and in the distance Sasori saw a beat up junker moving towards him at significantly slower than the speed limit. No other vehicles were around. Sasori mentally classified each one and tried to imagine what sort of maintenance problems they had, how long they had been on the road, that sort of thing. His hand touched empty plastic. He looked down rather than look like a blind man feeling around for the last piece.

There was the sound of screeching. Sasori's head jerked up in time to see the junker skid through the intersection. It had either teleported or accelerated faster than that make of car was physically capable of doing. The new car had not, and now turned to its right, the same way the junker was skidding. Classic rookie mistake. The turning and braking was too extreme for any car to control, so the new car skidded slightly instead of stopping. Whoever was in there was damn lucky that they had turned so extremely as they had. Sasori was in position to see the driver's side door fly open and somebody leap out, rolling down the slight slope and away to safety just as their car was smashed on the road above.

Sasori started, but did not get up from his seat. That right there was an action-movie performance. He did not think any further in this line but instead hmmmm'd in respect. That was somebody with good reflexes. Then the cars exploded.

This time he jumped straight up. Before Sasori was aware of his actions, he was leaping the last few feet to reach the lucky roller, thankfully already on his feet and running away. They both fell to the ground as the blast wave shook the ground and set their ears ringing. Something went flying. Sasori fell back and scrunched his eyes shut, did not move for several seconds. Thanks to his red hair, the runner noticed this before he saw the blood pooling beneath Sasori's head.

Sasori woke up with a splitting headache from the noise. His vision fuzzed around the edges as the wailing droned on, and on, and on. It was so painful that Sasori could not breathe. The pain froze every muscle he could tense, holding his lungs still in their cage. He struggled to draw breath, but it was impossible. His vision was fuzzing and darkening, and Sasori was thinking with what was left of his mind that he had never prepared a will, when mercy came. Wads of something soft, stuffed into his ears. The wailing sounded like it was coming from underwater, and Sasori was able to draw small breaths. His headache no longer split.

He opened his eyes when the terrible sound finally left. The runner looked down on him from above, and decided to remove the wads. The distant echo of the wailing made Sasori wince, but it faded quickly. Sasori opened his eyes again and looked around. He was lying on his back, his head in the runner's lap and the rest of his body on a bench identical to the one at which he had been sitting just prior. How much time had passed?

"You okay?" the runner asked. His hair was streaked with red, his shirt too. Sasori wondered who had plucked the glass out.

"Alive," Sasori replied.

It was enough. The runner grinned widely. "Did you see me jump just in time, yeah?" he whispered. "How'd I look? Freakin' stunning, yeah?"

Sasori stared blankly. Oh gods, the runner was an overenthusiastic kid. He continued to smile brightly, even more so after looking up at the wrecks that were still on fire, that could have been his funeral pyre. His blue eyes shone with glee. Sasori wondered now if the glass had been plucked out. He moved the fingers on his right hand, found that they still worked. Sasori lifted his hand, tried to point out the bloody streaks in the kid's hair.

The kid saw and looked down. "What?" he asked obliviously. For some reason he could not specify, Sasori did not feel like speaking was a good idea, so he pulled the kid's blond ponytail. "Ow," the kid muttered, rescuing his ponytail and looking at it closely enough to see the streaks. "Oh! Don't worry, hm. One of the ambulance people insisted on looking at me, got all the glass out. You shielded me from the worst, anyway, yeah."

The kid smiled brightly at Sasori now. "I'm Deidara," he offered. "That was so cool, yeah! I didn't even see you, then you were running toward me, then you kind of rolled over me when the blast happened and took most of it. That was so heroic, yeah! Who are you, some kind of hero?"

Sasori was well aware of the dangers associated with moving one's head after a major trauma, so he gave a thumbs down.

"Oh, that makes it cooler!" Deidara exclaimed. "Do you have a car around here? I could drive you home if you wrote it down, hm."

Sasori gave him a disbelieving glare, but in the end was forced to relent.

.

He felt much better after arriving home. The soft jolts of his car as he lay in the backseat had loosened up his neck muscles, so Sasori could be fairly sure that he was not going to die from basic movements. He was aware of how sneaky internal decapitation could be, so he avoided moving his head to the sides, but otherwise all seemed to be well. The rest of his body was fully intact too, with no major wounds or fractures to be felt.

As soon as they were safely inside and away from prying eyes, he slapped Deidara alongside the face. "Ow!" the blond idiot yelped. "What was that for, huh?!"

"You just barely jumped clear of your own funeral pyre," Sasori informed him. How could anyone be so dense? "You were about to die."

"Yeah, but I didn't, hm. My reflexes were good enough to handle it, I was fine, yeah," the blond idiot retorted. He crossed his arms and looked at Sasori as if Sasori was punishing him unfairly.

"You would have burned to a crisp in your shiny, new car," Sasori stated with his flattest tone of voice. Before Deidara could say anything, he continued, "It doesn't matter who was at fault, it doesn't matter what you did or didn't do wrong. Nothing matters to the dead anymore. If you'd like to keep your sense of anything intact, avoid doing that."

Deidara pushed his hair back in annoyance. "You just said I didn't do anything!"

Sasori clarified, "I was saying that if you died, no amount of innocence would change that. But in the future, if you want to reduce your chances of vaporizing, you should not carry around explosives in your car."

"What- "

"Cars don't explode like that in real life, not unless they're helped to." Sasori walked into the living room as he said this, returning with his work coat that clearly showed he worked for the only auto repair shop in town.

"Um," Deidara raised a finger to point out, "It was a science project, hm."

"Then you are bad at science," Sasori deadpanned. "Highly unstable science projects are performed in a lab, under full shielding. The only reason for using something so unstable is in an experiment. Explosives that see the light of day are designed to be very stable unless they're exposed to just the right trigger, which is usually not force or heat, despite what you see in movies."

The blond's eyes twitched. "It maybe wasn't a science project yet," he admitted. "I was going to show it off and suggest it as one."

"That's even worse. If you hadn't been hit, it probably would have been set off by some clumsy classmate of yours."

"..."

Sasori wondered why he cared.

"I'm going into the military after I finish school, hm," the blond exclaimed.

"Make sure you learn how to properly mess with explosives while you're there, don't get anyone killed, and don't die," Sasori instructed.

"Why the fuck do you care, hm? You're not my dad or anything!"

"..."

The kid was right. Why was he concerned?

"About my dad... how's my car going to be?"

Sasori did not shake his head no, but instead narrowed his eyes at the stupid kid even further.

"Oh, crap."

Sasori patted him on his thick blond head.

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