Jump Ship

Untitled Part 1

Notes:

My gift for paigyloli on Tumblr, as part of the Akatsuki gift exchange.

(I didn't know your AO3 handle, feel free to shoot me a message so I can gift this to you.)

I hope you like! I took your prompts 'anything with Sasori' and 'something like red string of fate, or soulmate', and welp, here we are. Sorry, it's a bit late!!!

Deidara really, really hates the Edo Tensei.

Because Deidara had died, he had lived, and died, exactly how he always wanted to. Existing in a single moment, more beautiful than anything this mockery of life could create. Sure, it might be marginally better, now that he's free of Tobi-Madara-Obito-whatever's control, but it still sucks.

Tobi stole his death from him, his most beautiful creation. His masterpiece. He stole it, and forced Deidara into a cold, unfeeling, empty bastardization of everything he believes in.

Deidara really hates Tobi. Sure, he hadn't liked him much before, but now? Now, there aren't words to describe just how much Deidara wants to murder him. Even if the thought of allying with Konoha shinobi kills him, he'll do it. He'll do anything to increase his chances of going toe to toe with the masked bastard. Deidara wants to make him beg for death.

Sasori is his partner again. It's not a surprising development. Most of the former Akatsuki—the ones who switched sides—had been kept together. Naruto might be convinced there's good in them, but that doesn't mean there's any trust between the Allied Shinobi Forces and Naruto's group of undead missing nins. Deidara thinks it's funny, in some weird, twisted way, that even in death, he's still stuck with Sasori.

They work well together, years of relying on each other, and only each other, pay off. They could be soulmates, well, assuming Deidara had ever seen his mark reflected across Sasori's chest. The delicate interweaving lattice, intersected with small shapes that could have been scorpions for all Deidara knew, had never been anywhere on Sasori's vessel. Deidara knows, he's seen Sasori naked enough times.

At thirteen Deidara had torn the mark open, cutting into his chest without a second thought, creating his most beautiful work of art. It was only fitting for him, after all, to tear apart the one thing on his body that never changed.

It made coming into his new vessel a shock, because, while his jutsu is gone, his soulmark lays flat over his heart. Deidara guesses that makes sense, in some bizarre, twisted way. He's a soul inhabiting a paper husk, Sasori hadn't come back as a puppet. Instead, he came back as the shadow of flesh and blood he was, before he started experimenting.