Shooting Straight II

Chapter 2

The Sand Village was exactly as Arrow remembered — hardly anything had changed in the long years he'd been gone; he took in the sight of the city, some semblance of nostalgia blooming in his chest, but it was quickly smothered as he focused on the task at hand. He pulled at the chakra within his system, enjoying the cooling sensation as it spread across his body, pooling behind his eyes as they morphed, the blue centre bleeding into the green, heightening his senses as his kekkei genkai flared to life.

Deidara went to work, using the mouth on his left hand to sculpt his clay into a small bird that he tossed to the ground — within seconds, it had enlarged, towering over the three cloaked individuals, waiting to be commanded.

"You can wait here, Sasori," Deidara spoke over his shoulder as he mounted the beast, moving over to make space as Arrow followed him up, sitting comfortably. "Leave it to us, we will attack from above."

"Don't make me wait too long, Deidara," Sasori replied directly to the blonde, knowing that Arrow was nothing if not punctual after having learnt the hard way.

Without another word said, the bird launched into the air, the wind stealing Deidara's hat. Arrow clutched his own, ensuring it did not leave him.

"So, One-Tail Shukaku's jinchuriki, Gaara of the desert, eh?" Deidara called over the wind, "He was once your friend, yes?"

"'Friend' is a strong word," Arrow scoffed, "I was raised by his father, the Fourth Kazekage - although raise is also a strong word. I was treated the same as Gaara's other siblings, but had no specific bond with Gaara himself."

"I wonder what he is like, then."

Arrow didn't respond this time, instead choosing to watch the village below as the sun began setting upon it. Deidara, not unaware of Arrow's unsocial nature, took to work scouting the guard posted to watch the sky. He chuckled, seeing only three stationed guards.

"I can't help but admire the architecture of this village — but I suppose that is what makes it worth destroying." Deidara hummed to himself as a grin spread across his face, his hand brandishing clay spiders and dropping them at each of the guard posts. Arrow watched with feigned interest as the spiders latched onto each guard's face.

"They're not weird — they're perfect. Sure enough, fools don't understand what art is all about. I'll have to show them, I suppose. True art—" Deidara's grin widened; "—is an explosion!"

Sure enough, each spider exploded, taking the guard's faces with them as they erupted into nothing more than smithereens. Arrow looked away from the sight, listening to Deidara's delighted laughter.

As they soared over the Kazekage's tower, both Akatsuki members stepped off the clay bird, landing atop the building.

"Infiltration successful," Deidara's voice was filled with glee, like a thrilled child. As he went to look over his shoulder at Arrow, the figure standing in front of him caught his eye.

"That's as far as you'll go."

Gaara's voice was gravelly and gruff as he spoke, arms crossed over his chest with an unimpressed expression as he took in the sight of the two enemies before him.

He looked different than Arrow had expected — he was taller, his skin fairer and his features softer; he had evidently matured, which was to be expected with his promotion to Kazekage. The news was unexpected when it reached Arrow's ears — he could hardly picture Gaara as anything other than the unstable, crazed mess he had last seen during the chunin exams.

Yet still, the man before him was none other than the junchuriki himself — the man he had been tasked with retrieving alive. He tried to avoid thinking of Temari's face when she would inevitably learn of Gaara's disappearance, worse if she were to learn it was at Arrow's hand. The unpleasant train of thought did nothing to deter him, though.