Some whack SasoDei thing.

Some whack SasoDei thing.

It’s been awhile. I’ve been stuck up here for months, though it’s felt like years. Not even very exciting… though I honestly don’t even know how I got here. I’ve killed millions, and kindness isn’t exactly something commonly seen with me. Do I deserve to be here?... I doubt it.



The red-haired male sits tiredly in his ‘room’ of sorts, mixed in among thousands of others, and just watches out a window at the beings passing by. All of them have wings of some sort, all colors, types, and sizes. Most of them have feathers, protruding out of their backs enabling them to move among the territory.

Not that Sasori really thought it strange. After all, he had a pair of his own. He would have thought them to be more demonic, like some of the ‘people’ he’s seen here. But no, his wings actually were that of almost a true angel, feathery and vast, wispy and beautiful. The only difference; their color gave them the appearance that they were drenched in black paint. They were a coal colour, but to him it doesn’t matter. He almost felt forgiven. But he knows that isn’t possible.

He’d begun to get lonely here, he knows no one. Except for Hidan and Kakuzu, hey, who knew Jashin wasn’t just a stupid lie? Then Hidan spouted some crap that Kakuzu got in for always aiding one of ‘Jashin-sama’s servants’.

That didn’t explain how HE ended up here.

And besides, the short male had never made proper acquaintance with either of them, nor did he possess the desire to do such. So the two were not much good to him.

Standing slowly, he glances at the wall where he had always imagined a clock to be. Time didn’t matter here. It was do what you want, when you want to. If night ever fell, he didn’t notice. There was no schedule to keep.

This is quite possibly the most boring place possible.
And Sasori couldn’t help but actually feel it. A strange combination of loneliness, boredom, and longing.

Longing for what you ask? Well that was what he just couldn’t put his previously artificial finger on.

What the hell does he want? He’s in heaven, so he has every material possession he’d ever need, which is why he never leaves his little room.

Yet he feels it all unnecessary.

He feels as though if he possessed this one thing, whatever on earth it was, he wouldn’t even need anything given to him here.

He just needs this ONE THING and he’d be satisfied.

If only he could find out what it was.

He allows himself to wander across the room and stand directly in front of the window, palms pressed on the sill as he gazes out at the vast sea of blue and white, the hideously stereotypical heaven he had hoped to never have to see. Painful to the eyes with its bright colors, he quickly turns away and again begins to mull over what he wants. No, not wants. NEEDS. NEEDS so much that it’s the only thing he even does or thinks about.

Every single moment of every single day would be like this.

He would pace the confined room for hours on end, none of the human requirements there to interrupt.

And all he would do is ponder. Nothing has ever puzzled him more than this.

Not the building of any of his puppets, as artistic and difficult as they are. Not the concoction of any of his poisons, despite their level of complexity.

NOTHING. Flat-out.

He stands in front of a wall and leans his cheek onto it gently, just as a support to hold his tired frame. As he presses his entire body onto it, he becomes limp and ends up sliding down the stone wall and onto the floor, murmuring to himself.

Perhaps today would be the day.

The day he finds out.

He decided to for once in his deathtime to leave his room. It won’t do him much good, will it? Most certainly not.

If anything it would worsen his situation. But what does it matter? Even if his longing is found out, it could never be realized. If he was allowed to have it, he would know what it is wouldn’t he?

That settled, he leaves, pounding his wings to lift himself upwards and soar lazily about.

He passes many people, people he never thought he’d see again. He resisted the desire to speak with them, knowing that though he was in heaven, forgiveness wasn’t optional.

And in his mind, as he glanced around, he felt as though every person he knows can’t even see him, they didn’t know he was there?

Did he want forgiveness?... No… not quite…

His family back?... Not it either…

Sasori strained his mind as he flew, gazing about at the millions of people that passed him by. He sighs a bit and lands on a nearby solidified cloud, somehow able to hold up the form of the maroon-haired angel.

He looks around longingly, hoping for any sign, any hint of what has made him ache so much ever since his un-timely death. Ever since he arrived at what he considered hell, when it’s meant to be just the opposite.

And then he glanced over to the gates. The massive gates that they hold as the entryway to what some would think of as bliss. They aren’t too far away, and proud screams can be heard from the group waiting in line to enter.

Out of curiosity Sasori jumps from his place and flies over to the gates, gazing through the bars to locate the yells.

And there he stands.

The tall, lithe male with long, gorgeous blonde hair shouting triumphantly, most of his words consisting of, ‘That damned Sharingan!’, ‘He feared!’, and ‘Art is a bang!’.

And Sasori sees it.

Sees what he has been missing and desiring this whole time.

That sunny disposition, the overly cocky grin, everything about the boy, Sasori has been dying after death for.

“Deidara…,” he mutters, going as close as he can, “Deidara!”

And with this, he surprises himself.

Never to anyone had he shown any more emotion than small bits of anger.

Never friendliness.

Never kindness.

Never love.

Yet here he is, making his way to someone he hasn’t seen for months as though it’s been decades, desperate just to see them up close.

The other male blinks and looks towards him as the line moves and he takes place at the front, a grin quickly plaguing his face, “Sasori no Danna, un? Is that you? Oh, Danna, it is, un!” He waves enthusiastically.

Sasori clutches his chest as he feels all the confusion and worry he’s endured lift off of him and just vanish, heart melting simply at the sound of the of the precious blonde’s voice, “You’ve found me here… oh Dei, you’ve found me here…”

Deidara’s happy shouts continue as he jumps and waves both arms about. Then he suddenly stops and blinks a bit, eyes widening and his knees buckle, causing him to fall to the ground as though he’s in some kind of pain.

Sasori looks on in horror as Deidara’s flesh begins to flake off of his body in bits that become nothing more than dust in the wind, as the muscles beneath melt into a pool of a vile green-and-violet liquid, as his bones and blood simply evaporate into the air.

Sasori looks about him, thrashing his head back and forth in sheer terror as everything around him is engulfed in nothing.

Not blackness, not the dark, not shadows.

Just… nothing.

He breathes shallowly and suppresses a yell when the two rotting corpses of his parents appear on either side of him, each one taking one of his arms into their grasp, their rotting skin peeling off of them and onto Sasori and the ground around them.

A frame appears before him, its face shadowed by a cloak.

Sasori struggles to escape, but to no avail as the figure raises it’s head.

Maniacal blue eyes look back at him, he can’t avert the gaze. Whether it’s hypnosis, fear, or fascination he doesn’t know.

A painfully familiar voice let’s out a menacing hiss and growls one thing he never wanted to hear, “Welcome to Hell, un…”



And now…. I look back on it. I think that maybe, where I am now… I deserve it. I do.

Forgiveness and love is too much to ask for someone like me.

I understand.

If where you are now, wherever that may be you can hear me, I love you Deidara.

But don’t worry about me. I may be arrogant thinking that you are, but nonetheless.

Just please… forget me.