The workshop of Akatsuki's only artist was small but had everything he needed for his craft: meathooks for draining corpses, a pair of operating tables for cleaning and carving his creations, a wooden desk, and a clutter of cabinets containing paraphernalia for poison and puppetry. The rocky walls were dimly lit by a candle chandelier. The room was cold and reeked of death and wood, hostile for a human environment. It fit Akasuna no Sasori's purposes superbly - it was his own artistic sanctuary.

Now, however, Sasori glared at the chaos he had carelessly allowed into his once-spotless workshop. Experiments and results of Orochimaru's twisted science littered the floor. Thankfully, the man didn't store his kidnapped children in here - now that would have been a real hassle to clean up - but these jars and bottles containing god-knows-what really weren't any better, as Sasori had no idea what to do with them. He debated for a moment if releasing children would have been a more convenient task. Eventually, he came to a conclusion: Orochimaru wasn't worth any kind of trouble, be it returning children or jars or lifting his damn pinky.

Sasori reached for the last jar on the shelf, descended from the stepladder, and cursed his old partner. Gritting his porcelain teeth, Sasori stamped down the anger threatening to crawl outside of his chest - or his core, he really wasn't so sure - and cleansed his workshop of Orochimaru's belongings.

In just a few days, Sasori's workshop was spick and span once more, devoid of any trace of Orochimaru having even been there in the first place. Once again, Akatsuki's one and only artist was back at his craft with a vengeance.

That was why, when Pein had summoned him to brief him along with Itachi and Kisame about their newest recruit, Sasori realized just how much he wanted to work alone. He had been perfectly fine on his own; before Orochimaru, Sasori had taken on villages and Kages for nine years under the Akatsuki without needing a partner to back him up. He was cunning, powerful, and independent - a partner had proven to be more of a liability at this point. Still, between him and Pein, Sasori was unfortunately the blind follower.

The more Sasori heard about his new partner, the more he dreaded meeting him: a twelve-year-old bomber from Iwagakure who apparently had three mouths. Sasori could only imagine how loud he would be - Sasori could have withstood the noise that came with explosions alone - but three mouths weren't exactly easy to handle, even if Sasori didn't have human eardrums anymore. The fact that he was working with a child didn't help, either.

That was why when they finally found Deidara, Sasori's determination to kill Orochimaru doubled all the more. Any trouble that Sasori and the Akatsuki would have to go through for a traitor simply wasn't worth it.

Deidara sat in the middle of a stone temple, awash under the hot Iwa sunset, his back turned to the three of them. Sasori couldn't see much from this point of view, but the kid appeared to be molding something. Maybe pottery. It was common for Iwa-nin to handle earthenware and the like; they specialized in earth techniques, after all.

Sasori rolled his eyes. He hated waiting, but he wasn't about to go out of his way to get this brat's attention.

Kisame, thankfully, spoke up after ages of dead silence. "Deidara-san, we are members of the Akatsuki. We have heard about your talent and would like to offer you a position in our organization."

There was a pregnant pause until Deidara finally turned to them. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue that Sasori had ever seen. If all else failed, Sasori would definitely harvest this brat's eyeballs, at the very least.

"The Akatsuki?" Deidara scoffed. "Sorry, but I don't know anything about it, and I frankly don't care. The only thing I want to do is focus on my art."

Sasori perked up and echoed the last word. Pein didn't mention anything about the kid being interested in art. Not that it was critical information, but…

Deidara flashed a mysterious smile in Sasori's direction before turning his back to them once more. Sasori glared at him inside of Hiruko, feeling inexplicably unnerved by the gesture.

"I make art with clay." Deidara continued to mold whatever he was working on, this time with hastened movements, as if he were excited to show them his creation. "Wanna see it?"

Kisame chuckled. "We've actually heard quite a lot about you, so you don't need to–"

"No."

Deidara held up what appeared to be a sculpture of a miniature spider - that's what he had been working on the whole time, apparently, and turned to them with a proud smile.

Sasori moved his chakra threads to make Hiruko scowl.

"That's your art?"

Deidara grinned back at him. "Doesn't look much on its own, does it? But..." he reared back, as if to throw the sculpture, and—

"Art is an explosion!"

They evaded the attack with ease, and waited for to Deidara hold up his pointer and middle finger - the signature hand seal that Pein warned them about. "Katsu!"

The clay burst into an impressive explosion that ripped a hole in the wall. The three of them emerged unscathed from the falling chunks of rock. Deidara had finally stood up to face them, this time with two different miniature clay sculptures in both hands. Unfortunately for him, he was staring right into Itachi's Sharingan - and before the battle had even begun, it was already over.

"Stupid eyes," Deidara muttered under his breath as he followed behind the trio, still sulky from losing to Itachi in just a second. His Akatsuki cloak was loosely draped over his native clothes. "How far is your hideout, anyway? Are we there yet?"

Sasori had never recalled a time when his patience was tested so frequently in a single day. It was the third time Deidara had asked the same question in the same hour. "Almost," he answered, "so just keep quiet and follow us."

"You Akatsuki guys sure love bossing people around, don't you? You, especially." Deidara picked up his pace so he was a few steps ahead of Sasori to turn around and look at him. "What are you, anyway? You're seriously not this ugly thing, aren't you?" He made a face. "I mean… nobody could be this hideous."

That did it for Sasori. Sasori swiped at the brat with Hiruko's tail with half the mind to seriously injure Deidara, but he dodged it just in the nick of time.

"Now, now, Sasori-san, let's not get your new partner poisoned right away," Kisame said lightheartedly. "Still have the other one, remember?"

Sasori reluctantly retracted his tail.

"You," Sasori growled, widening Hiruko's eyes menacingly at Deidara, "watch your mouth, before I shut it myself."

Deidara smirked contemptuously. "Oh yeah? You can't even be bothered to show me your real face."

Familiar anger sparked in Sasori's nonexistent guts. It was a phantom pain that he'd occasionally experience when he was frustrated with art, but ever since Orochimaru left, it had been appearing more frequently, and now he felt like he was on the verge of exploding. At this point, the possibility of Sasori murdering his new partner before he'd even claimed retribution over Orochimaru was getting more likely to occur with each dangerous second.

"You have no right to order me around, brat," Sasori spat, and his fingers trembled slightly for some reason, so the chakra threads used to push wind out of his puppet's mouth caused Hiruko to sound a little shaky.

"Well, guess I'm just not gonna listen to you, freak."

Before Sasori could even react at the insult, Itachi stepped in between them, eyes an icy, dispassionate red. Deidara's warm blue ones in turn widened with surprise.

"You're a part of us now, Deidara," Itachi said coolly. "Respect your comrades."

Deidara's features contorted ever so slightly with thinly veiled rage, mirroring Sasori just moments ago. In the end, however, Deidara simply huffed and crossed his arms like a chastised child.

"Fine." Deidara stomped back behind them to his original spot. "Lead the way then, freak."

"His name is Sasori," Kisame informed Deidara.

Deidara grunted. "Then lead the way, Master Sasori!"

Satisfaction bubbled up inside of Sasori. His name with an honorific didn't sound bad at all. All of the anger clouding his head a while ago seemed to evaporate when he heard Deidara utter his name with respect, albeit forcefully.

The trio continued on their journey back to Akatsuki's headquarters in blissful silence. Maybe Sasori just needed to be a bit more patient. If he could handle that, then perhaps he didn't have to turn Deidara into a puppet… just yet.