#kagu.drabbles

[kagura4]

Tanjiro’s weird habit is putting Inosuke off. 

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[kagura4]

“This is a dangerous mission. We’re about to fight against an Upper Moon for the first time, and I want to be prepared.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“You’re so worried.”

“Of course I am.” Sabito sighs, dipping the brush in red powder. “Now stay still while I do your makeup.”

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[kagura4]

Title: “Choice” 

Nothing hit as hard when Sasori realized that he’d rather let Deidara stay as a human than preserve him as a puppet.

[kagura4]

It takes Lee a split second before he notices the guilt spreading across Gaara’s horrified face as he stares at the broken picture frame on the floor. Lee had invited Gaara to his apartment for a cup of tea - it was a polite gesture, and Gaara wanted to make amends, but things didn’t go as planned.

Lee stops Gaara as he tries to reach for the slivers with his bare hands. Gaara looks up at him, eyes riddled with guilt.

“Lee, I…” The words get strangled in Gaara’s throat. “I’m sorry.”

Lee is taken aback by the genuine sadness coming from Gaara. The way his voice shakes, the way his face contorts as if he is on the verge of tears - it takes Lee a while before it dawns on him. Gaara is guilty because he has broken something of Lee’s again. A broken picture frame may not be as grave as a shattered leg, but it brings up painful memories nonetheless - though Lee has long forgiven him, he understands how heavy Gaara must feel.

“It’s okay,” Lee says with a soft smile. He takes Gaara’s hands and levels his gaze with Gaara’s. “It can be fixed.”  

Lee knows that Gaara understands that he isn’t just talking about the picture frame. In Lee’s earnest eyes Gaara sees a spark of hope; the reassurance of forgiveness. In Lee, Gaara finds redemption.

Gaara nods slowly as he tries to calm down. “Yes…” He agrees in a murmur. “It can be fixed.” He echoes Lee until his eyes are clearer too, this time with determination.

Lee beams at him.

They pick up the pieces and replace the picture frame with a better one. Gaara bought Lee the sturdiest one that he could find - the one that would never break. When Lee looks at the picture frame, it’s a gentle reminder for him that nothing is ever truly destroyed; only changed, for better or worse.

[kagura4]

“If you could live anywhere you want, where would you want to be?” 

The other side of the workshop is silent, save for the clattering of wood and clay. 

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[kagura4]

Deidara runs the oiled brush across Sasori’s skin, imagining the goosebumps his Master would get if he could still feel.

He is gentle yet precise; he marks every spot as if it were a map that he’d memorized by heart, and doesn’t stop until Sasori is gleaming with wood varnish.  

Sasori’s joints clack as he stretches them and inspects Deidara’s work. He is bare and hollow, his entire body other than his face a mere imitation. He is painted in a convincingly healthy color, but the lines all over his body remind Deidara that he is no longer human; he has become one with his art.

Deidara longs to reach the same peak that Sasori currently stands on, but for now, he is content with watching him twirl as he makes sure of his eternality.

“Good?” Deidara asks.

“Aa.” 

[kagura4]

Gaara carries guilt with him everyday, like it’s a father’s gift that he has to hold onto at all times. Lee knows, though. It is the result of six assassination attempts when Gaara was too young to even know about the tailed beast in his body; too young to be betrayed by the only person who cared about him. It is the result of years of misunderstandings, of bloodshed, of loneliness. It is not his burden to carry, and yet the first thing that Gaara does in the morning is remember that he is his father’s son and that the whole village is counting on him.

There’s a war now, and seventeen-year-old Gaara relays a speech to a million shinobi like the words have been carved into his memory since birth. Lee watches as countless ninja, all from different villages, rally with Gaara to fight. It is incredible.

And here they are, lying next to each other in their private room, just for a little longer until they have to leave for the battlefield. Lee’s chin fits perfectly into the crook of Gaara’s shoulder; he knows this is meant to be, because this way his lips can brush against Gaara’s ear and whisper to him a good morning.

Gaara pulls him close. Before, he was hesitant of having anyone, much less the very person whom he’d sent to surgery, touch him. Now, Gaara welcomes Lee into his arms, into his life, as if he has finally reunited with a long-lost love.

“Just once,” Lee had told him, “let me carry your burdens.”

send me a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble for a pairing! 

[kagura4]

“I don’t like your ex,” Deidara said, rolling his eyes. “Orochimaru’s not my ex,” Sasori hissed. “Ex doesn’t just mean ex-significant other. He’s your ex-partner, too.” Sasori’s lips formed a straight line. “True,” he muttered. Deidara perked up cheerfully as an idea occured to him. “Let’s kill him,” he told Sasori, bright blue eyes twinkling with murder and mischief. Sasori’s lips curved into a rare, wicked smile. “Good idea.” It was moments like these that made Sasori think Deidara wasn't such a bad partner.

[kagura4]

reincarnation AU;

When Deidara sees him again - uniformed and donning a Sunagakure forehead protector as if he were proudly representing his village - Deidara is taken aback by the bewildered look that Sasori gives him; not because he was hoping that Sasori would remember him, but because Sasori is once again human, and for the first time Deidara can really see how different he is like this. Pale skin marred by battle scars, eyebags revealing the artist’s dedication - indeed, he was Sasori of the Red Sand - but the one who’d age to be a human, not a puppet.  

Sasori’s expression darkened into a suspicious glare. “Who are you?”

Deidara couldn’t help but smirk and held up both hands. “I just wanted to see you,” he said, straight to the point.

Sasori stayed alert, and Deidara sensed a kunai covertly being drawn. “Do I know you?”

“We used to be partners.”

Sasori’s eyes widened, almost as if he were ashamed. “Did we collaborate before or something? I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

Deidara smiled bitterly and resisted the urge to break into laughter. Oh, how ironic this was. Six years of being together, and Sasori died before him twice in a single lifetime, despite being the one who always bragged about immortality.

Six years of art and bickering and passion - and Sasori can’t remember.

“Never mind,” Deidara said, and with his hands still in the air, turned around slowly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sasori said when Deidara reached for the doorknob.  

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Deidara answered. “I’m just happy that I saw you again. Have a good life, hm.”

[kagura4]

A tiny clay butterfly hovered over the pile of twigs and with a burst into flames, successfully igniting a bonfire. The noise caused the forest around them to shiver ever so slightly—squirrels scampered home, birds retreated to their nests���it was a small explosion, yet it made its existence very impactful, particularly on the rudely awakened Sasori.

Sasori glared at Deidara, who was preparing their dinner for the night. “Are you actually incapable of staying remotely silent?”

“No, I can be silent if I want,” Deidara answered, showing Sasori a skewered rabbit that he’d caught with a kunai. “See?”

Sasori was unimpressed, and after much contemplation, decided that he wasn’t in the mood to argue with Deidara right now. The fact that Deidara thrived in seeking attention through his tasteless mediums was already burnt into his memory anyway.

As if to calm Sasori down, the forest whispered a soft song in the passing wind that swayed the greenery around them. He had only been human again for a few days, and though it came with its difficulties, especially with how Deidara threatened to rupture his eardrums every single day with his explosions—Sasori quietly admitted to himself how much he had missed feeling temperature, particularly the cold. The Suna weather was extremely humid during the day, but Sasori remembered looking forward to the cool desert wind that usually went by during the evening. He’d nestle himself in his blankets as the wind seeped in, sending him pleasant goosebumps…

“I hope you’re enjoying the wind, Master,” Deidara said, dryly, “because it’s killing our bonfire.”

“Just make another one,” Sasori replied disinterestedly, wrapped in his own thoughts.

“Heh, you won’t get grumpy because I’ll make a noise?”

Sasori muttered something in response. Without bothering to clarify Sasori’s answer, Deidara created another butterfly with nimble fingertips, and detonated it. Sasori watched as its death sparked a flame, and their bonfire was reborn.

“Beautiful,” Deidara whispered, as the clay dispersed into a little firework. “Just like life.”

Sasori found himself almost agreeing to it. As he reflected over the past, he realized just how transient pleasure was. A fond memory lasted as long as a passing wind.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Deidara said, as if reading into Sasori’s thoughts, but was actually pertaining to their bonfire.

That night, Sasori and Deidara ate their dinner miraculously in silence.  

[kagura4]

Kisame. It’s Kisame who called out his name, who brought him to shelter, who watched over him in his sleep. Sometimes Itachi forgets that he actually has a partner - someone who’s supposed to be looking out for him.

“You’re running a fever,” Kisame informs him. “We should stop by somewhere you can rest.”

send me a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble for a pairing! 

[kagura4]

Sasori liked taking baths in the dark. It was a simple luxury that Deidara wanted to spoil him with. So he prepared the tub until it was a hot, simmering temperature, settling into the porcelain white, floating with the bed of roses that he had personally handpicked for Sasori. Deidara had bought a bath bomb called Red Sand that was perfect for the occasion, but he decided to save it for another time. Sasori came back home, still not quite used to his human body, because he looked pale and sweaty and exhausted. He saw Deidara, who winked at him from the tub, considered him for a moment before he undressed and beelined for the shower. He padded wetly to the tub, naked, and gently sunk into the heavenly sea that Deidara had made just for him. Their bodies collided and the water bobbed as Sasori collapsed on top of him. Deidara was underwater for a moment, but Sasori pulled him back albeit with a struggle, and he gasped for air quite seductively. “Mm, was that on purpose?” Deidara asked, tracing the million-dollar features of Sasori’s face through wet lashes. He presseed their bodies close so gooseflesh bloomed across their skin. Deidara grinned inwardly at the thought of finally goading physical reactions out of Sasori. Sasori leaned in further until their noses were touching and the water on his bangs was dripping on Deidara’s cheeks. His gaze trailed down to Deidara’s lips and before he can close in for the kill, his prey hunted him first, and tugged him underwater. They kissed with their eyes closed underwater, and every so often Deidara would angle his body so his thighs would touch Sasori’s cock. Sasori broke the kiss when he started getting hard, a pulling them above the water and grabbed Deidara’s chin. “You,” Sasori said, and even Deidara couldn’t tell if he was trying to impose himself, but it came across as a languid whisper. Sasori’s eyes were heavy from a night of poor sleep, which wasn’t helping him achieve his desired aura, either. “Me,” Deidara echoed back, losing himself in the color of Sasori’s eyes. They were a soft, brown color, resembling dull wood. It reminded Deidara of a puppet’s unfinished joints. Sasori nudged him against the wall and latched onto Deidara’s neck. He pressed soft kisses on the curves of Deidara’s shoulders, like he was lighting up every dark corner of Deidara’s world. It was the opposite, really: without Deidara, Sasori would have stayed in the darkness forever, alone. Deidara cooed for his touch, aching, longing. He wanted nothing more but to drown in the feel of Sasori’s lips against his body. It was Deidara’s idea of luxury, and Sasori spoiled him from head to toe.

[kagura4]

“Akasuna no Sasori, huh…”

Obito couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. Here lied a dead man who had dedicated nearly his entire life to achieve immortality; the man who prided himself as a master puppeteer, only to be used as a pawn of a bigger stage than he could possibly conceive by the true string-puller of the Akatsuki. Here lied Akasuna no Sasori, certainly mortal and still ever human, caged in the lifeless embrace of two puppets created in his parents’ likeness, lying in a pool of black sand.

For a moment, Obito felt a distant echo of emotion that he recognized as pity. He had long since discarded it, but there was something delicate, even childlike about Sasori, that evoked such a feeling.

“You can still dream in the afterlife,” Obito reassured the dead puppeteer as he stooped down to his corpse. With comically cautious movements, Obito pulled the ring out of Sasori’s artificial thumb and slid it into his pocket. He wouldn’t need that anymore.

“Thank you, Sasori-senpai,” Obito said in Tobi’s cheery voice as he walked away from the ruins of the Akatsuki base. “It was nice to meet you."  

send me a prompt and i’ll write you a prompt for a pairing! 

[kagura4]

Sasori was one of the last people Deidara would picture keeping flowers on his desk. It took Deidara a split second to remember that the man must be keeping them for poison, not because he found a strange fixation with their eternal beauty or whatever.