.
It's a long story, or one could categorize it as fragments. Like lots and lots of lines jumbled together, or you could think of it as big chunks of red and white tones.
If, and I mean if, I would like to tell this story in first person. You can think of it as a failed movie that mutilates itself late at night listening to a red and white screen.
Always yearned for that kind of man and woman story.
. .
When Scorpion was still very young, he was always particularly enamored of plants like the cherry tree. Growing up in the sand village, he could only be accompanied by cacti full of thorns, the so-called can not get the more cherished, whenever he went to Kiba to carry out the mission always like to pick down some already ripe cherries back to put in the vacant flower plate.
The sand country itself is a country that lacks water, if you waste precious resources to plant those useless plants will only aggravate the hard conditions. That's why the cherries Scorpion brought back every time were always slowly drying up and wilting by the window. Long time busy in the task of scorpion also have no time to care about these just weekdays have time to those who have died dry flat fruit thrown away.
Always repeating this action, always cherishing it and then throwing it away, he was never bothered.
Grandmother Chiyo told him that you go get used to something and you will never be surprised by it again. Even if it is ridiculous.
Scorpion remembered these words many years later, when he was no longer surrounded by those sharp cactus spines, but always stood by a beatnik with a sharp personality. One day Scorpion subconsciously answered the quote when his partner asked him why he thought of eternity as art, yet he couldn't remember who said it when his partner asked him who said it.
Who said it? Who said it?
He really couldn't remember.
Since then, that Deidara guy had always teased him about it. Scorpion looked at the guy thinking how nice it was to be young, his puppet body would rattle insistently when he moved his mouth, and over time getting tired of the sound he didn't like to talk.
Scorpion still think of their own cherries treasured when they were young, accompanied by a salty and sour feeling in the mouth. By all rights the golem should have nothing left, yet he still remembers the flavor. The personality was always upside down, and Deidara's noisy voice was absorbed into the golem shell like an echo going back and forth countless times. Scorpion's hearing began to fail as a result.
What to do, one always gets old.
. .
Scorpion sometimes dreamed and woke up with a habit of holding his right hand in his left. Deidara sleeps well Scorpion is the opposite, waking up in the middle of the night with cold wind makes Scorpion sad. No sense of touch his color weakness is also very serious, always see blocks of lifeblood. Deidara for that also used to praise him for having an artistic sense on rare occasions, that stupid kid was paranoid and had many, many character flaws. Scorpion, however, envied him; the guy was really young. He still had time for a lot of things.
When I was young, I used to fantasize about not growing up, and would cry every time I dreamed of walking down the road. It felt as if by marching continuously he would one day die. Even he wasn't sure why he feared death to the point of faith; the art he honored was stagnation.
But many years later, Scorpion wished to dream of the long, endless road. Then he would choose to go on it and keep going without turning. Unfortunately, many years later, he had no dreams and no sleep. Wanting what he couldn't get, but not being as aggravated about it as Deidara was.
Perhaps it was that nothing mattered anymore.
Scorpion looked at the ceiling when he got up in the middle of the night, in fact, he preferred to look at the sky if he had a choice. Higher and further away there were also rose-like clouds. Always living creatures. The night sky was different from the day, an object that was meant to be more beautiful but was not appreciated because of human sleep. Occasionally, late at night, the scorpion will be glad to be awake, and the rare good things are found by himself, that kind of leaping mood is the only constant temperament in the past few decades. As when I was a child, I would always be happy about the smallest things.
Jumping out of his room and walking down the road, he rambled on imagining he was coloring the world. Scorpion's world was never big, and what he loved was even confined to a small space.
The sour taste of cherries, mmm. It was the flavor of life that Scorpion loved.
Passing by the intersection sight unseen.
Scorpion was learning to walk sightlessly like Deidara at night, and he admonished himself to keep walking. The trees on the shady side of the road reassured Scorpion, and his golem reflected such dark light. In fact, Scorpion didn't like the sunlight by any stretch of the imagination, it was too harsh and tended to make Scorpion feel sore at the corners of his eyes. He didn't like the feeling, probably because he had always fallen out of favor with that taste himself a long, long time ago. He reached out to touch the chunks of life he saw, but thought someone was near due to his hallucinations.
Scorpion wondered if he was really that empty. He thought as he sat on the edge of the boulder.
He thought of the words that he couldn't remember who said them, and of the red of the cherry dying and wilting. The red color turned him on, he told himself, yes that's it. Keep thinking about it.
Then Scorpion fell asleep.
In his dreams he dreamed of many, many cloths, five, six colors. He tsked his mouth and realized that the taste of cherries dying in his mouth hadn't gone away. He traversed through the different colors of cloth savoring the taste of the colors. Reds and yellows smashed together, mixing and crying. It was as if the chunks of life were going back and forth in front of him, and this time he reached out and seemed to touch something.
A soft texture.
In an instant Scorpion woke up again, sitting on the edge of the boulders just facing the sun.
What is that one? Scorpion quickly ducked back into his golem and touched the four walls of the glazed tiger. In an instant he came to a realization.
So that was a woman's face.
. .
A woman's face.
It was as if the cherries were tasseling and crying as they died, and the reddish-red was the color of the juice of those cherries as it fell to the ground of the sand country. Large swaths of cloth, five or six colors confused and dancing together.
The Scorpion's mind occasionally recalled these, the single hues always confusing him. So he killed, hoping to find three-dimensionality in it. It was a thought that fed his mind, and he saw the work as a form of entertainment.
So he was called a genius for this behavior.
Didara was a well-spoken man, and during breaks he liked to ask Scorpion irrelevant questions. Like have you ever been in love.
Sounding like an April Fool's joke, Deidara was partial to telling it for a long time. Scorpion always listened to him and then watched him laugh to himself.
[Actually, I made it all up to fool you, Uncle].
[Hmm.]
[Uncle you know what actually you're really not a likable character.]
[Hmm.]
It's just a matter of no one liking it, and it doesn't matter if no one misses it.
Scorpion thought about how he hadn't felt the taste of understanding in a long time, and he recalled thinking it was the scent of cherries. Then he recalled his dream.
Didara jumped to the conclusion that Scorpion didn't have a favorite and no one would ever like him. Because he was dull and emotionless.
Scorpion mumbled [hmm][hmm].
In fact, in his dreams, he had touched a woman's face. He actually had a bad memory, but he also always remembered the cherry red color. He thought it was the color of cherry drops falling to their death on the land of his homeland, but it was actually a living object.
It was a woman's hair color.
Scorpion seemed to be remembering the woman.
In a daze he always saw chunks of lifeblood actually realized the chunks had become organic shapes when he was awake one night. He seemed to see the corners of her mouth lift up to smile in front of him.
After that Scorpion began to keep imagining what the woman should sound like, or what she should look like. Maybe she had emerald green emerald eyes like pretty amber, or maybe she should have hair that was slightly red like cherries. The kiss should feel tart and sour.
The windows of the room were always left open, and Scorpion, who hid in the north, was usually alone when he thought of darkness and dawn.
On days when he is not on a mission Scorpion likes to sleepwalk, and when he sleepwalks he also holds his right hand in his left hand.
If this is the case, do you still feel lonely?
Scorpion remembered this sentence one day like he remembered the words of an unknown person, and as always he still didn't know who said it. His dream messy scattered a woman's scent, under the light veil there was a woman who would raise the corners of her mouth and smile at him.
The room to the north was cold and gloomy, Hiyori had assigned him to Scorpion because no one else wanted the room.
[Uncle is a wooden man so he won't feel the dampness]
Didara smiled innocently as he gave Scorpion the key to the room, and without a word Scorpion took the key and lived in it. Zero once praised him in front of the whole team for that.
[Scorpion has a great sense of solidarity].
In fact, he always got up at four in the winter mornings to scrub off the moss that had grown on his body. He always remembered Deidara's words.
[Uncle is a wooden man so he doesn't feel the dampness]
He had clearly seen it himself, all that green he hated. It was pungent to mix with his beloved red vision. But sometimes he actually saw red crawling all over his body when he woke up.
Scorpion was colorblind and couldn't tell red from green.
If that's the case, does it still feel lonely?
The words became Scorpion's mental support as he wiped himself down in the winter, and it took a lot of courage to make himself into a puppet. Scorpion had always thought he was numb enough to withstand the departure of everyone around him.
The room was north-facing, which was just as well to fulfill Scorpion's desire to hide from the sun.
Only sometimes he would still walk out of the room and continue north, wouldn't it be colder in the winter up north. He'd heard it said once that if it was cold enough you could be frozen senseless and unaware of everything.
Despite already being senseless, Scorpion still wanted to be numb enough to know nothing.
Winter had always been associated with length in Kawanokuni, and night even more so.
Scorpion had plenty of time to count the cracks in the ceiling now, with the occasional spider crawling out of the corners. Scorpion shot them dead on the walls with poisoned needles. Over time when viewed from the door, Scorpion's room was unusually beautiful because of the reflection of the needles and awnings.
After one misstep, Deidara said [Uncle you are replicating the night].
It's not really that aesthetically pleasing, just trying not to get too bored when I'm awake alone. Just practicing Chippendale's throws.
Didara always liked to fantasize about being boring as being wonderful, he himself would just hallucinate in his boredom. That's the difference between people, and it doesn't really help to talk about change.
It is said that people remember the stories of this life before they die, and Scorpion thought to himself that he must have skipped that part then. If you don't even think about it when you're alive, how can you remember it when you're dead.
But it was still not enough, and that's why he woke up in the night counting the cracks in the ceiling while keeping his eyes open.
Left hand holding right hand.
Longing to remember what.
Unwilling to be alone.
Perhaps that could be the only thought the Scorpion had.
That's why one would think that even if one is colorblind, one must get up at four o'clock in the winter to clean the moss.
For one thing, the golem joints would have trouble moving as a result during a mission, which could easily affect the effectiveness of an attack. The second is that the scorpion is jealous of them. They had color, they had life.
Scorpion wasn't born a set in his ways, just after years. Life didn't even give him a chance to change. Afraid of death, so he transformed himself into a puppet to live even if he lost his senses. Afraid of those greens, but because of Deidara's words, he didn't dare refuse.
Dare not let others know his fear.
It was always a happy day when he thought of that woman, on a mission, losing sleep, or just plain missing her.
I don't know when Scorpion came to think of her as a spiritual individual being, only in theory it wasn't even a split personality. Maybe it was just the revival of a cerebellum that had been paralyzed for too long. The possibility of making a slight opening in one's life.
Keep going north, keep going north of the spirit. Whether or not he could see the plains Scorpion didn't know, whether or not he could paralyze himself Scorpion didn't know.
It just seemed to be like hearing a call to fantasize that I was in the north.
. .
Later later.
It seemed that the gods favored the scorpion's hard work of getting up every morning to scrub the moss, and the winter sun did come a little earlier. The spiders died on the ceiling, the wind from the north rapidly drying their bodies.
Scorpion fell asleep frequently, dreamed frequently, and touched her face frequently.
Then one morning he slept until dawn. For the first time he didn't watch the sun rise with his own eyes, and to see this scene he needed to sit on the roof of the house facing east. It was dangerous.
Woke up. Seemed to break out in a cold sweat and touched nothing but moss.
Didara rushes in and throws him an amber green gem. [Zero brought it back last time for everyone to play with, take one too, Uncle].
Scorpion took it, avoiding Deidara's palm. It was a pale green amber, a very expensive and rare variety. There would be no light in the north until after noon. The amber itself was surprisingly eerily shiny.
[What does Uncle think?]
[Eyes.]
[Hmm? What?]
[Eyes, but why only one?]
Scorpion likes to pester himself for a long time on pointless things, like how he likes to bend his right hand into a crescent shape and raise it above his head when he's working. Another example is that when you drink water you will definitely look at the sky. These tiresome things are placed in the mind, and over time they become as strong as night tea.
It makes one lose sleep.
Intermittent nerves come in good and bad, and he might just as well be thinking about that woman's good hair. No need to wonder if she was still alive, couldn't pursue it because he couldn't recall it.
Intuition told him that the woman might be dead.
However, he began to enjoy touching the green amber to sleep, the nightly tea settling into the shape of a circular gauge in his mind. Drawing a circle he didn't know well, so he blindly assumed it was a woman's lip print.
Eyes.
But only one.
The beauty of the mutilation was hard to breathe.
Scorpion realized they were gone when he got up out of habit to rub the moss. It was only later while walking to the Land of Sand that he remembered that the organization had changed bases three days ago.
The new base was located in Kawanokuni, and Zero had graciously given each member a room facing south. The sunlight refracted down sweeping the gloom from Scorpion's face. Deidara was filled with dismay as she pushed open the door.
[You're actually quite good looking, Uncle].
Scorpion would have said thank you, only to suddenly trip over the formality. So he nodded his head and looked up grinning and described it as a smile.
Didara turned and ran, seemingly in shock.
Details are often unappreciated, yet when they are they are agonized over for a long time. Scorpion was still touching the inside of the golem as he imagined something by touching the inside of the golem after putting on the glazed amber. Deidara's gait was quick Scorpion dragging the massive golem naturally took a bit of effort so he couldn't think about anything else while he was exerting himself. Women, his dreams would usually be a blank slate, but when he thought of them his dreams began to be colorful again.
The sky was thick at night without a single star, perhaps the sandstorms in the Land of Sand had gotten a little worse.
Nighttime would be wide awake after a strenuous workout during the day, and Deidara's breath fell delicately on Scorpion's heart. There was a complex odor he didn't understand in the hole in the tree, and Scorpion looked at the sky, pitch black.
It was as if his eyes were closed.
He started to walk out of the golem, then slowly slowly opened his chest.
The woman's story. It must have been lost on him, he had been so excited about it that he thought he would never be hurt by it again.
Many years later he realized that forgetting the pain must also forget the fun. It was like a game, where winning hurt and losing hurt. The unspeakable choice seemed overwhelming.
Sleeping when blank, insomnia didn't have much of a side effect on Scorpion. When on a mission, even if he has insomnia, he is still more awake than Deidara. He just didn't like sitting alone in the corner against the north watching the black sky smother him as it slammed down.
He felt a tightness in his chest.
Looking for something to do for himself, Deidara rolled over. So the already subtle sound of breathing became even tinier, seemingly insulated from itself. Scorpion wasn't used to initiating, and so he didn't get very insistent on hearing those petal-like drifts of moaning.
He closed his eyes and realized that the world was a lot brighter than it had been when his eyes were open.
So he smiled, a real smile.
. .
The footprints were askew on the ground like painted torn fabric, pink from the morning sunlight. It was obvious Deidara felt good about this common sight in the sand country.
He saw the soft haired colored guy run ahead of him with a bounce in his step, before raising his face in a happy grin. Scorpion mistook the sunrise for a sunset, so he smothered his heart and tried to close his eyes.
The thick ink-like canvas then stretched out in an instant, and he saw the ink colors wrap around his heart like fireworks. This was followed by an oncoming scent of hair.
Scorpion opened his eyes again when Deidara had run far away and was waving to himself. The expression was so thick it was like black mixed with black in the night. Like the twisted image of cloth falling geometrically as it hovered in the air.
Scorpion walked over.
Deliberately ignoring what she had just seen, her green amber eyes.
The Sand Kingdom had a dry climate, so men and women preferred to wear black robes that were long enough to reach the ground. Over time those used garments became unusually heavy from drawing on the sand. In fact, there were both advantages and disadvantages, and Scorpion didn't feel very heavy when he changed into his glazed amber and walked later.
There were usually a lot of things that had a head start, like wanting an unprocessed tree root. Or making a new organ for Rurouni Tiger.
Maybe one wanted to see the woman again, or maybe one wanted to touch Deidara's face.
Things that weren't accomplished lost their meaning of existence, and one by one, Scorpion cleared them from his mind. So one morning, he found himself blank.
A very panicky feeling.
Like a night without the blackness mixing with the insecurity.
. .
As we approached the Land of Sand the weather was just about summer, and the sun shone down and the days began to stretch out like a bobbin. There was no end in sight. Scorpion walked in silence three paces behind Deidara diagonally so that he could clearly see the way the wind swept Deidara up. Like it was gently holding him in place.
The footprints scattered messily.
Scorpion wondered if he would one day have an embrace like that. He tsked his mouth as the wind and sand fishtailed.
Saying words that would not be acknowledged for a long time led to silence and no more words. And so the distant bystander assumes he is cold and dull.
Scorpion looked at Deidara's back, huddled in the glazed amber he was a full half a body shorter than Deidara. From the angle of looking up the other man seemed so upright, in fact standing up himself he was even taller than the brat.
Angles can sometimes be true.
The further one traveled into the land of sand, the sweltering sands began to multiply as well. Nighttime simply made it impossible to sleep anymore, and unfortunately even Deidara wasn't immune this time. The soft color of her hair turned blood red after splashing the night. The cave was also a lingering sandy mess.
The entrance to the cave was so small that it looked like a skylight, looking past the many facets of the lopsided, flaky sky.
Didara sat up and leaned against Scorpion:
[Uncle, it's a lot like those original thousand books in your room. Hmmm]
[Maybe.]
[Well, Uncle. Do you think our footprints will follow us?"]
[Sometimes when I fall asleep I see a blur of white in the distance.]
[The road in my dreams is soft like cotton candy, and I don't feel any pain when I walk on it].
[I don't have shoes in the dream, though.]
[I probably haven't worn shoes since I was a kid. The first time I ever wore shoes was when my father bought me ninja shoes when I graduated from Shinobi school that year].
[I didn't realize that my feet still hurt just as much when I wore shoes.]
[Turns out it's because the feet have adapted to the shapes of those little rocks, diamond shaped squares and triangles, just no round ones].
Scorpion tsked his mouth out of habit as he listened, and Deidara opened those irregularly round eyes.
The skylight slowly seeped in unidentified colors, the bitter taste tumbling and swirling in the taste buds. Deidara's dreams seemed to be three-dimensional and multidimensional; Scorpion's were cloth, silk. Plane and inorganic, but one could let oneself die if necessary.
The woman, it seemed, was faded into oblivion. It was only when the walk was dull that the luster flooded between Scorpion's fingers. Scorpion wondered if that was also a white country that existed in the distance, without dust but with a path like cotton candy. It wouldn't hurt to walk on it.
Scorpion nudged Deidara who was leaning in:
[Hey kid.]
[Hmm. Don't disturb my uncle when I'm asleep. Hmm.]
Fool.
Scorpion grinned and nudged him again.
There was no reflection this time, and Scorpion knew that he wasn't asleep. The child against his body rested his head on the neck of his collar, spreading his breath calmly.
Pretty white place with no path of small rocks. Bare feet running lost shoes bouncing behind them.
It was a poem, the poem of the young that scorpions cannot understand.
[Kid.]
[I used to love watching sunsets when I didn't have a golem.]
[There were very few eagles to be seen in the center of the Sand Country Square in those days. The feathers were dull in color, and many children made hats out of them, the ornate, cold-temperature kind].
[Later I was taught to make golems and I stayed in my room. Watching from a very small skylight]
[Eventually one day, even the skylight there, was stacked with failed golem models.]
Scorpion took a breath.
Putting his hand on his chest and closing his eyes, in blackness he imagined there was a faraway place. And the vague glowing place that survived his fingertips. The sands of the Sand Kingdom flattened out in the dead of night, and the moon only appeared for less than an hour a day.
That was what made it extra bright.
[And then what happened?]
Didara switched his furry head to face what appeared to be north. Scorpion couldn't quite figure it out.
[And then, you couldn't see the sky. Couldn't see the sunset either]
[Was there no more?]
[Uh-huh.]
[Uncle], Deidara sat up, [To be honest this story is strange.]
But it's its own story then.
Much more fragile than dreams that have no beginning or end. Scorpion gathered Deidara into his arms.
[Let me touch your face, brat].
The sun rose. The skylight became bright and blinding.
Didara's face was different from the one he resembled, a resilient, living organism. It was also different from the face in the dream, the one that was so soft and unreal that it shattered open.
Unfinished