Disclaimer: I only own this story – Kishimoto owns Naruto and everything within it
A/N: Hey to any people reading this. I've had this up my sleeve for a very long time. Thought it was time for this story to face the cruel harsh world of fanfiction...
By the way, this story will be mostly told in present tense and first person. If it gets annoying or anything for me to either write or for people to read, I might change it. Please bear with me as I make the introduction. I hope this chappy isn't too confusing, because in my opinion, I think it's not totally clear. But then again, I've always been rather hard on myself...
I hope you nice people out there enjoy this. If not...well, your loss, I guess.
Warnings: This fanfiction may contain (mature?) material. The rating may go up later. This story contains: Profanity, Violence, Self-Harm, Attempted Suicide...etc. It may offend some people. Don't like, don't read.
Title:When Insanity Calls
SASORI POV
I crack open my eyes. I see a white ceiling. My throat is dry and I feel uncomfortably stiff.
Eyes shifting from side to side, I discover my room is painted entirely white. Horribly white.
I remember. Wattle Hill, Isadale Psychiatric Hospital. I was dumped here.
I turn my head to the right, squinting as a bright light slams through my eyes. Once they had adjusted, I realise it's a window. Outside I could see a garden, complete with a sea of green grass and cherry blossom trees.
"Ah, Sasori-san, you're awake," says a cheerful voice to my left.
I turn to the offender. A young woman in a typical nurse's uniform is smiling at me. She has shoulder length, black hair and a kind expression. She held a clipboard; holding information about me, no doubt.
"How are you feeling?" she asks as she walks over to my bed. She smells faintly of jasmine.
I merely stare at her through half-lidded eyes. My tongue prises through my dry lips and I lick them, still watching the nurse.
"Would you like anything, Sasori-san?" asks the nurse.
I consider asking for a blade to finish what I started.
Instead, I ask, "Can I have a glass of water?"
She nods and tells me to wait a minute. She walks out a door to in the furthest left corner of my room. She returns a few minutes later, holding what I wanted.
I slowly pull myself up into a sitting position. Feeling stiff, I move my pillow up and lean against it. The nurse hands me the glass of water. I hold it in both hands, watching the water quiver in the glass. Then I realise I'm the one trembling. I try to force my muscles to still, but they seem too nervous to listen to me. I bring the glass to my lips, pressing the cool glass against them. I take a small sip.
The nurse is still waiting, the same smile plastered across her lips. An unexplainable annoyance rises in me. I hate the way she's watching me, smiling at me. It was a look of understanding, of empathy.
It makes me feel sick. My stomach squirms and suddenly, I want her to get out.
"Are you finished Sasori-san?" asks the nurse. A vicious rage grows in me.
How can she be so happy? How can she act like everything is normal when she is taking care of a suicidal patient?
I hold the glass tightly, staring at the clear liquid.
"Get out," I say in a low voice.
I feel bitter satisfaction as her infuriating smile is wiped off.
"Sasori-san, is something wrong?" she asks, concern written on her face.
"Get out," I growl. I feel hatred towards her, just that look she's giving me. Like she knows what I'm going through, like she understands. She has no right to be here.
The nurse steps forward and I lose it. I hurl the glass of water at her.
"GET OUT!" I scream. The nurse quickly ducks and the glass smashes against the wall behind her.
Droplets of water splash on to the floor and broken glass. I grip the bed sheet so hard, my knuckles turn white. Whiter than my already porcelain-like skin.
The nurse gives me a nervous look before backing out of the room. My hold on the sheet slowly loosens. I notice I am shaking even more than before. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I shudder.
My eyes snap back open, darting to the broken glass on the floor. Excitement runs through me, my heart thudding, faster and faster. I throw back the bed sheets and almost ran to the glass. Stumbling in my eagerness, I fall to my knees barely centimetres from the largest shard.
Stretching out a trembling hand, I reach fervently for the shard.
Suddenly a warm hand grasps my thin wrist.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," commented a calm voice.
I whip my head around to glare at the person who was denying me of my prize. Another person with an annoyingly kind expression on his face looks me in the eye.
"Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" I hiss. I reach out for the shard again.
Quick as lightning, he steals the shard away from below my fingertips. I hold back a scream of frustration.
"Give it back," I say through gritted teeth.
He sighed. His fingers curl around the glass.
"I can't do that."
"Give it to me!" I snarl, launching myself at him.
I tackle him to the ground, blindly grabbing at his fist.
"Give. It. To. Me!" I howl.
Suddenly, I'm pulled back by an unseen force. My arms are grabbed and pulled behind me. I feel a painful jab in my upper left arm. Hot liquid sears through my veins.
Still struggling, I scream for the man to give me the glass. Suddenly, my body won't obey my will. I feel myself stop pushing against the restraint. Instead, I feel myself slumping and arms holding me up. Something pulls me to the bed and I try to tell them to let me go. They don't seem to hear.
Then, world blurs and darkness soars overhead, shutting me off from the world.
I wake to the sound of pattering rain. Opening my eyes, I remember what happened.
"Shit," I mumble. Now they're definitely not going to let me out.
I sit up and the world spins. I feel as though I'm about to lose consciousness. Groggily shaking my head, the world balances itself again. I turn my head to the window, puzzled to the sudden stop of rain.
In fact, the garden was spotless. And dry.
I can't remember where I am. Oh, wait. Isadale Psychiatric Hospital. Why am I here again?
I groan at my loss of memory. All I remember is a bloodied arm. And faint screaming. But that's all. Wait, I remember Grandma Chiyo. She was...wearing a purple scarf?
Suddenly, last night's events come flooding back. I remember Grandma Chiyo's frightened face and the car drive here.
Suicide. That's what I wanted to do. But why?
I frown. Hazy memories brush past. I had forgotten something. Mother and Father.
Flash! A puddle of crimson...
Flash! A pool of silky black hair...
Flash! A scream, echoing louder and louder...
My skin prickles. I stop thinking about it. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories away. They retreat into a dark corner. I tell myself I will never look there. I don't want to know or remember.
In the meantime, I had to get out of here. I think through my options. A grand escape? Maybe a blind charge through the building. Or just wait it out?
I decide to wait until they officially release me. I don't plan on coming back. I make a mental note to act normal.
Hearing footsteps click against the floor, I swiftly lay back down, pretending to be asleep.
I hear the door swing open and quiet footsteps approach me. They stop at my bed and I feel the presence. The person smells faintly of jasmine.
"I'm sorry for throwing the glass at you." I keep my eyes closed. Normal, think normal.
"That's okay Sasori-san. Don't worry about it," she replies. I can almost hear her smile.
"I'm not worrying. And don't smile so much. You'll get wrinkles."
"That was nice of you to tell me."
I can't tell if she were being sarcastic or not. I remain silent.
"Lunch is in five minutes," says the nurse.
"I'm not hungry," I immediately reply.
"That's what they all say. But it sure beats being fed through a tube."
I open my eyes. She is smiling at me.
"Do you really want to look like an 80 year old woman?"
She drops the smile, but the edge of her lips keeps twitching.
"Besides, it's a great time to meet the other patients."
Other patients?
I sit up again and slide off the edge of the bed. I see that the broken glass has been cleaned up. I glance at the nurse.
"How long was I out?"
"About three hours," she answers, cheerfully.
Suddenly, her watch starts beeping.
"Oh, I've got to go. I'm sure you can find your way around, Sasori-san. See you later!" the nurse calls as she walks out the door.
I stand there, not sure what to do. Then, outside the door, I caught sight of strange thing. It seemed to be a swirly, orange mask, the swirls concentrating onto the right eye. It is peering into the room, the rest of the object hidden behind the wall.
"Are you the new patient?" asks the mask, timidly.
Well look at that. The swirl-face speaks.
"Maybe."
The rest of the thing appears and by now, I suspect it's a patient. I look over him and notice he has black hair poking up from behind the mask. He is wearing a white shirt and plain, blue jeans.
"Hiya, I'm Tobi. What's your name?" the boy chirps.
I stare at him. Wasn't he supposed to have a messed up disorder or something?
Tobi waits patiently.
"I'm Sasori. Akasuna Sasori," I finally say.
"Nice to meet you. Are you coming to lunch?" asks Tobi happily.
"...Yes." Why was everyone so happy? This is a mental institute, not a playgroup for teenagers.
"Do you need me to show you?" he asks eagerly.
"Unfortunately, yes," I mutter.
"Okay, Sasori-san!"
Tobi bounds away to the left of my door. I quickly walk out the door, about to follow him when I see an even stranger person than Tobi, walking in the direction Tobi went.
The person seems to be talking to himself. But what is even stranger is his appearance. He is half black and half white with green hair. I stare, wide-eyed as he walks past me, muttering to himself, his voice continuously changing from deep to placid.
The boy stops. He looks back over his white shoulder at me.
I stare back at him. He turns to face me.
"Hello," says the boy in a calm tone. "I heard there was a new patient around."
The boy's voice suddenly changes. "You look tasty."
What the hell?
"But I won't eat you," continues the boy. "Tsunade-sama said that it wasn't nice to eat people."
"I'm Zetsu." The voice has changed back into a placid tone.
"Akasuna Sasori."
Zetsu nods. "You might want to change clothes before you go to lunch."
He turns back to the direction of the lunch area and starts to talk to himself again.
"I still say I should eat Naruto for what he did yesterday," argues Zetsu.
"But then Tsunade-sama won't be very happy," responds Zetsu.
I stare before looking down at my clothes. I flush as I realise I'm wearing a hospital gown.
Flash
"You're what?!" I spin around to meet my grandmother angrily.
"I'm leaving you here until you get better," says Grandma Chiyo, calmly.
"You can't just leave me here!" I shout.
The receptionist stares at the scene. She picks up the phone and dials several numbers.
"You have no bloody right to just dump me in a mental institute!" I yell.
"What you did was very serious; I don't want it to happen again."
"No!" I make a break for the door.
Someone grabs my wrist and pulls it down, forcing me to bend forward. I feel a syringe jab my upper arm and a hot liquid threads through my veins.
I fall, my eyelids drooping. I vaguely see Grandma bend down to kiss me on the cheek.
Then I seemed to be watching the world underwater. I felt myself being carried up a case of stairs and dumped on a bed. I was barely aware of someone tugging off my clothes and dressing me in a hospital gown.
They tucked me in bed like a child. I couldn't move but I could hear them talking.
Suicide.
They were talking about suicide and how close I had come to achieving that. I felt a small surge of pride.
Then they left the room, cast it into darkness and left me laying there.
I hurry back into my white room, heading to the wardrobe. I grab a pair of worn jeans and a shirt. Looking around the room, I see no bathroom. That was obviously too risky for a suicidal patient. I close the door and curse when I find no lock. There was just no privacy for a suicidal patient. Talk about injustice.
With my back against the door, I tug off the hospital gown, tossing it on the floor. In shock, I realise I am not wearing anything under the gown. I feel my face burning with heat.
Who the hell undressed me last night?
Gritting my teeth, I quickly went back to the wardrobe to grab a pair of boxers.
"Sasori-san? I didn't realise I went too far..." Tobi's voice fades out.
"Shit!" I curse. Tobi appears to be frozen.
"Close your eyes and turn around!" I snap at Tobi, feeling my face go red.
"Y-yes!" Tobi spun around. "I'll wait outside, Sasori-san."
I heard him leave and close the door quickly. I pull on my boxers hastily and then my jeans. Tugging my shirt on, I notice the white gauze bandage wrapped around the length of my arm. There was also a white band encircling my right wrist. My name is on it.
Akasuna Sasori.
I shrug on a jacket to cover up the scars and avoid annoying questions. I open the door and find Tobi nervously waiting for me. I say nothing, though my face begins to heat up again. We stand there for a moment.
"I'm really sorry," squeaks Tobi.
"Forget it," I say gruffly. "Are you going to show me the way or not?"
I enter a large room painted in soft shades of blue. The ceiling – what a surprise – is white. Pictures of pink and yellow frangipanis hang on the walls. Several round dining tables were scattered across the room. A light breeze drifts in through large open windows, making the blue tablecloths flutter. Outside I can see the garden, an array of pink, green and light brown.
I thank Tobi and move to a table near a window. I sit down on one of the chairs and look out the window. I see a faint reflection of myself – a pale face with dishevelled red hair. And hollow eyes.
"I haven't seen you before, un," comments a voice.
"Akasuna Sasori," I say flatly, not bothering to look at the speaker. Maybe I should just wear a nametag?
"Not happy, un?" asks the person. I hear a chair scrape the floor and the person sit down.
I sigh and turn to the speaker. I stare. The person has long blonde hair, a long bang covering the left eye and a ponytail tied with a stiff, red ribbon on the top of his head. The person is dressed in three-quarter length black pants and a pale yellow shirt. Strangely, the person wears think, black gloves. The person looks normal enough – dare I say pretty - except for the fact that I can't figure out his or her gender.
"Are you a girl or boy?"
"I'm a boy!" cries the person indignantly.
I look closer. Oh, he does seem like a boy after all, he seems to be missing several girly parts.
"My mistake," I say nonchalantly.
"Damn right, your mistake, un!"
"Is it my fault you look like a girl?" I sneer. I cross my arms over my chest.
The boy turns away in a huff.
I sniff and turn back to the window.
"You're the new guy right?" asks yet another voice.
Frustrated, I sigh heavily.
"What do you want?" I snap turning again to face the source of the voice,
A young boy is standing there looking hurt. He has short blonde hair and cerulean eyes. He wears an orange jumpsuit and has strange scars on his face.
"That wasn't very nice. I was only trying to be friendly," pouts the boy.
"Do I look like I need your friendliness?" I ask irritably.
He ignores me. "What's your name? I'm Naruto."
"Grumpy, un," mutters the other blonde boy sourly.
"Don't tell me he thought you were a girl, Deidara," sniggers Naruto.
The blonde called Deidara scowls darkly.
"I've told you thousands of times to cut your hair. It's just too long for a girly looking guy like you," snorts Naruto.
"...I like my hair long," sulks Deidara. "Itachi has long hair too, un."
"Yeah, but he doesn't look as girly as you," retorts Naruto.
I watch the two blondes argue, wondering what on earth I had done to deserve this.
I watch as another person with long, dark brown hair walks past our table. Except this person look like a male. He sits at a table at the other end of the room, staring into space. I see that he has freakishly white eyes.
"That's Neji, un," says Deidara, interrupting my thoughts.
I turn to Deidara. "What's he here for?"
Naruto answers me. "Tried to kill his cousin, I think."
I glance out to Neji again. He looks the same, staring into space.
"He doesn't talk very much. He seems to like Naruto though. Can't see why, un," sniffs Deidara.
Naruto smacks Deidara over the head.
"Ow! You little- "
"Who's that?" I ask, cutting Deidara off. I nod to the hallway I came through.
I watch the redheaded boy look around the room. He's wearing black eyeliner around his eyes and has the kanji for love on his forehead.
"Who, Gaara?" asks Deidara. He grins smugly at Naruto who is rubbing his head with a scowl on his face.
"If you're talking about the redhead."
"You should stay away from him. He's, uh, not stable, un."
I raise an eyebrow. "Isn't that why we're all here?"
Deidara shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"He does strange things. I think he's a psychopath. He's insane – he claims to hear a voice telling him to kill people, un," whispers Deidara.
I frown. This place didn't seem so safe after all.
"What are you here for?" I ask the blondes. Safety has suddenly become a major issue.
"I'm a pyromaniac," says Deidara proudly.
"Pryomaniac?"
"Pyromaniac," corrects Deidara. "Means I like fire, explosions, that kind of thing. That's what I understand of it."
"That doesn't sound horrifyingly bad."
Deidara shrugs.
I turn to Naruto. He scratches the back of his head looking embarrassed.
"I've got a DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Violent split personality."
"Must be bad to land you in the loony bin."
"Yeah, it is I guess. I can't control it, so it's kinda dangerous." Naruto pulls a face. "Deidara here hasn't seen me change yet. He's only been here two months."
"Better two months than 2 years, un,"
"Two years?" I ask incredulously.
"Yeah. It's not that bad, seriously." Naruto gives a half-smile.
"You misunderstood me. My chances of getting out are currently next to minus one," I say miserably.
"Why are you here, un?" asks Deidara curiously.
"I am apparently suicidal," I say shortly. I don't elaborate.
They don't push the matter. There is silence among us. I turn to look out the window again.
I hear a chair scrape the floor and footsteps walking away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Naruto wave to Deidara as he moves to another table.
I zone out from the rest of the room, everything fades to a distant blur.
I watch the cherry blossom trees, wondering vaguely why they were considered safe for a mental institute. Someone could easily impale themselves on one of the spindly branches. Or choke on a handful of flowers. I hear a clatter next to me. I snap out of my daze and turn to glare at the person who disturbed me.
A black haired boy is standing next to me, calmly setting out glasses and cutlery from a trolley behind him. Plastic glasses and cutlery. It looks as if there are three places. He sets out three plates of food, before taking the trolley away.
I stare at the food. It didn't look very appetizing, more like mushy goo. I pick up a plastic fork and poke it experimentally, just in case it's alive. It wobbles slightly.
"Do you mind if I eat here today?" asks a monotonous voice.
I start. It's the black haired boy. I didn't hear him coming.
Deidara waves a 'no'.
The boy looks to me. I look over him closely. His long black hair is tied back simply, his face somewhat handsome. He wears a half-sleeved fishnet under a loose black shirt and long black pants.
"Hi," he offers.
"Akasuna Sasori." I don't bother to be polite.
"Uchiha Itachi," he replies, scrutinizing me with coal black eyes. I notice they seem to have a red tinge to them.
"So when's the funeral?" I sneer at his outfit.
"How soon can you die?" he retorts.
"Now that's a great thing to say to a suicidal patient," I snort.
"Are you now?" Itachi looks interested.
I curse under my breath.
Deidara spoke up. "He is, un!"
Itachi tilts his head. "How so?"
Deidara shrugs. "He didn't say how, un." He starts to eat his food slowly.
Itachi eyes me. "Going to share?"
I give him a dark glare in reply. I face my food and copy Deidara until my plate is empty.
After lunch, we are told that group therapy will be in half an hour. Until then, we are free to do as we like. Well, as free as you can be in a mental institute.
Still in the cafeteria, I move listlessly to a sliding glass door. Most of the other patients move back down the hall to their rooms. I open it and to my surprise, nobody stops me. I walk outside, feeling a light breeze catch my hair, ruffling it.
I move to a cherry blossom tree near a brick wall that seems to encircle the place. It sits on a gentle hill that is littered with cherry blossom petals. I lay down on the green grass to the right of the tree, arms behind my neck.
I stare up, pink cherry blossoms framed with the azure sky.
Life wasn't actually so bad like this, I contemplate.
I close my eyes, enjoying the silence.
I stare at the man in charge of the group therapy. He is standing inside the room with the sign saying 'Group Therapy.' It's the same man who stole my shard of glass.
This time though, my mind is not full of rage and I can study him properly. He has dark brown hair, pulled back into a spiky ponytail. His annoyingly kind expression is set in place and I see that he has a long scar across his nose. His clip-on name tag reads Umino Iruka.
Pin-on nametags are dangerous too, I guess. Some patient hell-bent on suicide might snatch it away and stick it into their throat. And if they miss the artery, they could always hope to die of tetanus.
Or maybe somebody had stolen a pin-on nametag and swiped it across Iruka's nose.
Iruka gestures to the circle of chairs where some people are already situated.
"Welcome, Sasori-san," smiles Iruka.
"Don't smile," I tell him as I walk past.
I choose a chair on the far side of the room, shooting dark looks at anyone who looks like they're about to sit next to me.
Unfortunately, this doesn't deter an annoying blonde by the name of Deidara.
"Hello, un!" he says happily, plopping down on my right.
Crap. He seems to be in an obnoxiously happy mood.
I don't answer, sending out what I hope to be waves of hostility. I glare at my shoes.
"Hello," says a dull voice.
I look up. "What do you want?"
Instantly, I'm wary. It's Gaara standing in front of me.
Gaara looks mildly confused at my tone. "Nothing much..."
"Whatever."
"...But Mother wants to know if you were the one screaming this morning," continues Gaara.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Deidara sitting rigidly, casting nervous glances at me and Gaara. I am somewhat embarrassed at the 'screaming' part.
"Maybe. Yes."
Gaara pauses. He seems to be thinking deeply.
"In that case, she wants your blood dripping through my fingers, your mangled limbs in my room and your head mounted at the end of my bed," recited Gaara in a bored tone.
"What the hell?" I say, leaning away from the eyeliner-wearing freak.
"Wait. Oh, and she also wants me to use the rest of your blood in my next bath."
Deidara lets out a small, nervous noise. It sounded dangerously like a chuckle.
Gaara turns to him. "Mother says not to laugh or you'll be the victim instead of him."
Deidara gives a small whimper. His hands grip the chair tightly, as if Gaara is about to rip him in half.
Gaara turns back to me, an eerie smile breaking out on his face.
I can't figure out if I should be frightened or happy at the smile.
Luckily, he sees more people come in and he himself moves to find a seat.
I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. I hear Deidara do the same similarly.
"I told you so, un!" says Deidara, voice slightly shaking.
"Told me what? I'm not scared." I seem to have regained my calm.
"You don't care that he might suddenly rip you from limb to limb because a non-existent voice tells him to?!" Deidara almost shrieks.
"I'm a suicidal patient. I supposedly want to die," I remind him calmly. Though that might be kinda painful...
"Fine, you're officially crazy, un," says Deidara in disgust.
"Wow. Official. I thought I already was. Being in a mental institute and all that," I say mildly.
"That was just a premonition, un," replies Deidara. "Now it's official. And I think you'll be here for a long time, un."
"Well, you think wrong," I retort. "I have no plans of staying here."
"Hmph."
The buzz of chatter takes over until Iruka comes to the circle from the door.
"Hello everybody," greets Iruka.
Mumbled replies are voiced.
"Today we have a new person with us," says Iruka. "I'd like to introduce Akasuna Sasori."
I sink in my seat. Damn, this is embarrassing.
"We've met!" pipes a happy voice. I recognise Naruto's voice.
"That's great," says Iruka. "Why don't we all introduce ourselves? Start with your name and something you like."
Iruka looks around for a starting volunteer. Nobody looks interested.
"Neji-san? Why don't you start?"
Neji turns his freakishly white eyes to me. I wonder if he's blind.
"I'm Hyuuga Neji. I am not blind," says Neji, boredom ringing in his voice.
Iruka frowns slightly. "Why don't you tell us something you like?"
"I'd like to see my cousin dead."
"Don't say that Neji," scolds Iruka. "Is there anything else you like?"
Neji half shrugs. Iruka sighs. "Next."
A black haired boy shifts in his seat. He looks strangely like Itachi. He even wears black clothing, albeit with a dark blue jacket. I can't help but think his hair looks rather like a bird.
"Uchiha Sasuke. I hate my brother," says Sasuke, face as hard as stone.
I guess they're brothers then.
"Something you like," reprimands Iruka.
Sasuke shrugs. "Tomatoes?"
"Great." Iruka seems happy that someone is contributing properly. "Next."
"I'm Zetsu," says the boy I met earlier. "I like...plants."
Iruka nods. "Next."
"Sabaku Gaara. Mother gives her greetings too."
Zetsu looks at Gaara with interest. "Is she still hungry?"
"Yes. But I'm not obeying her today."
"Anything you like? Something appropriate please," says Iruka.
"...Blood."
"Appropriate, please," says Iruka in an annoyed tone.
"...Sand."
"Er...very nice, Gaara-san." Iruka gives a strained smile.
"Is it my turn Iruka-san?" asks Tobi eagerly.
Iruka smiles and nods.
"Hi! I'm Tobi. We met before remember? When I...er..." Tobi breaks off looking embarrassed.
I'm sure my own face is burning.
"...er...I...took you to the cafeteria!" says Tobi, finally finding something not remotely embarrassing. "I like my teddy bear!"
There are several snickers at this.
Deidara nudges me. "Hey, why are you blushing, un?"
I scowl at him.
"Next!"
"Hey! I'm Uzumaki Naruto! We talked in the cafeteria. I like...practical jokes, I guess." Naruto smiles widely at me.
"I will eat you one day," threatens Zetsu. "My flower still hasn't gone back to her normal colour."
Iruka smiles fondly at Naruto. "Next."
"Deidara, un," says Deidara.
"And you like?" prompted Iruka.
"Art!" says Deidara enthusiastically.
"Really?" I ask, a little surprised. I didn't think we'd have anything in common.
"Yep! Art is a bang, un!"
"Right..." I trail off.
"I'll show you after this! You'll love it, un!" exclaims Deidara excitedly
Somehow, I don't think I will.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Deidara-san," says Iruka.
"What? Why not?" whines Deidara.
"The last time you created an explosion was a complete disaster."
Deidara's face fell. Then it became an expression of glee.
"Tsunade-sama got so mad, un!" says Deidara.
Iruka shakes his head. "Not to mention the cost of repairing the wall."
Deidara giggles happily.
Iruka nods. "Your turn."
"Akasuna Sasori. I like art too."
Iruka mutters something under his breath.
"You like art?" Deidara perks back up.
"Yes. I like my puppets."
Deidara snorts. "Puppets? What kind of messed up art is that, un?"
I glare daggers at him. "Minimal damage art. Lasts longer too."
Deidara scowls. "Art isn't meant to stick around. It's supposed to be a fleeting beauty, something that only ever happens once, un."
"Then who's going to enjoy it? It's meant to last all of eternity. True art is something that endures the trial of time and is left for the future to enjoy," I argue.
"That's stupid. Anyone can do that, un. It's boring art."
"It's better than blowing shit up, brat."
"It's not blowing shit up! It's blowing beauty up! As a true artist, I make things even more beautiful. And I'm not a brat, un!"
"Why the hell would anyone blow beauty up?" I sneer. "It's already beautiful."
"To make it even more beautiful, dumbass."
"But then it's not there anymore, brat."
"I'm not a brat, un! You're younger than me, idiot!
I bristle with anger. I absolutely cannot be younger than this idiot. I refuse!
"I'm older than you, brat," I growl.
"You look like you're 14, un," was the smug reply.
"What?! I'm 16!" I protest.
"You're what, un?!" Deidara looks shocked.
I look around the room. Most of the people look mildly surprised.
Oh, come on. I mean, I don't look that young do I?
"Why do you look all so surprised?" I snap irritably.
"You don't look 16," says Tobi solemnly.
"Well screw that," I retort.
Silence. Awkward silence.
"Well...time is almost up," says Iruka finally. "Does anyone else want to say anything?"
"Yes." I try to shoot a glare at everyone at the same time. Rather difficult when there are eight people. "How old is everyone else?"
"I'm 15!" says Tobi.
"13," says Naruto.
"16," says Zetsu, unconcernedly.
"14," says Neji.
Sasuke glares at me. "You sat next to my brother at lunch, didn't you?!"
I ignore him.
"13," says Gaara, indifferently.
"Sasuke-san is 13!" Tobi said helpfully.
Sasuke glares darkly at Tobi.
I turn expectantly to Deidara. He does not look happy. I smirk.
"...15...un," he eventually says grudgingly.
I let my smirk widen in a nasty smile.
"...Well, it looks like you'll be brat from now on."
A/N: So how was the first chappy? I have great plans for this thing...
Will update when in the mood. Already have second chapter but lacks motivation to edit and post. The woes of being a procrastinator.
Please review, it would make me very happy! (You are concerned for my happiness aren't you? Maybe just a little??) Suggestions are greatly appreciated.