When Deidara came to again, a flicker of confusion passed through his eyes. Then he realized—he was tied up. Beside him sat a severely damaged puppet.
And then, he realized that puppet was Sasori.
The [Sasori] kanji carved on the regeneration core was just too obvious. There was no way to ignore it, even if he tried.
Honestly? Kind of disappointing.
So that little red-haired brat wasn't Sasori's real body after all!
Sasori had been awake the whole time—or rather, he had never truly lost consciousness. A standalone regeneration core couldn't do anything by itself. Only after coming into contact with a puppet did it regain mobility. Unfortunately, the puppet was so busted up it couldn't do much either.
"Where is this place?" Deidara looked around. The architecture was lavish, clearly influenced by the Land of Earth's aesthetic.
"This could be your home… or your grave."
A voice suddenly rang out behind him, making Deidara jump. He turned around to find the same chiseled, almost sculptural pretty boy.
"Who the hell are you really? Can you stop talking to me in that creepy old geezer tone!" Deidara said, annoyed.
"He's the Third Tsuchikage—Ōnoki," Sasori said flatly.
"...Huh???" Deidara blinked. "Sasori, you too? What, is this some Transformation Jutsu?"
He leaned in and scrutinized the handsome man more closely.
Sasori replied, "Probably some kind of secret jutsu to extend lifespan or reverse aging."
"Tch~ That old man didn't look like this when he was young…" Deidara started to retort, then paused, a thought striking him.
"Wait, wait—Orochimaru has that jutsu where he swaps bodies… Don't tell me—you—you didn't…"
A look of pure horror dawned on Deidara's face. Who knows what bizarre mental image he had conjured up. His expression shifted rapidly like a painter's palette, grotesque and colorful all at once.
Ōnoki's voice dropped low and cold. "Deidara, I see the glint of moronic delusion in your eyes. Cease your foolish thoughts at once."
Hearing that, Deidara recoiled like a maiden protecting her chastity.
"You're not… like… lusting after my young, beautiful body, are you?"
For a brief moment, Ōnoki felt his brain buzz like someone had whacked it with a rock. He didn't want to waste another second on nonsense.
"Powerful shinobi altering their appearance is hardly rare. Enough of that. Deidara, you were once my student. So I'll give you a chance. If you return, I'm willing to forgive your past transgressions."
Deidara narrowed his eyes. "And if I refuse?"
Ōnoki gave a chilling smile and dragged both Deidara and Sasori deeper into the palace.
There stood a massive box—towering and ominous. On each of its four faces was a human visage, their seven orifices constantly seeping a deathly chill, as if every negative emotion in existence had been poured into it.
"Offer me a sweet sacrifice… and your every wish shall be granted…"
A whisper slithered into Deidara's mind, seductive yet sharp like a winter gale.
He and Sasori exchanged a glance—two twisted artists instinctively understanding each other without a word.
Sasori: "You heard that too?"
Deidara: "Mhm."
Sasori: "Ōnoki probably used this thing to regain his youth—and become handsome."
Deidara: "I was thinking the exact same thing!"
Before they could keep chatting, Ōnoki's smooth yet slightly eerie voice cut in.
"This is the Box of Ultimate Bliss. Deidara, if you refuse to return… I'll have no choice but to sacrifice you. Let your soul make its final contribution to the Land of Earth."
"You have three minutes to decide."
With that, he turned away and walked up to the box, murmuring something under his breath.
In the blink of an eye, the Box of Ultimate Bliss began to tremble. The faces carved on its surface grew more expressive—joy, rage, sorrow, and laughter flickering in eerie succession. Then, one of the faces broke away, revealing a gaping abyss behind it—dark as pitch, without end.
A dreadful aura burst forth. In that ink-like darkness, twisted silhouettes prowled—warped figures with grotesque expressions and warped limbs. Male? Female? Old? Young? Impossible to tell.
The moment they caught a glimpse of light from the outside, they surged forward like starving sharks scenting blood, howling and clawing in an attempt to escape.
But just as they neared the opening, an unseen force yanked them back. They slowly dissipated into the darkness once more.
"Those are human souls. That's what the box wants," Sasori murmured. Even as a puppet, a trace of dread crept into his voice.
"What?!" Deidara's reaction was even more dramatic. "Those are souls?!"
Faced with this horrifying scene, even a blood-stained killer like Sasori couldn't hide his fear. Deidara was practically gulping audibly, unsure if it was excitement or terror.
"What the hell is this freakshow box? How many souls has it devoured?!"
Based on the soul decay rate, density per cubic unit, and the time Ōnoki had held the box, Sasori made a rough estimate.
"Several hundred thousand. Possibly over a million."
"Even the death toll from all three Great Ninja Wars combined wouldn't match this!"
Deidara was still reeling from the number, but Sasori had noticed something even stranger—why had no one in the shinobi world paid real attention to this box? It was as if everyone had deliberately ignored it.
The Box of Ultimate Bliss destroyed the Land of Grass. Karin had been part of the Akatsuki. So why did every memory related to the box feel… negligible?
—Because Ōnoki made a wish.
His youth, his beauty, his power, the livable conditions across the Land of Earth—those were all things he had wished for.
He didn't want the box drawing attention. He wanted to lay low and build his strength in secret. So the box's information was suppressed.
He wanted total control over the Land of Earth. So every city bore his statue. Through them, he could monitor the people—or even descend into the statues from afar.
Demons aren't omnipotent. Sometimes, they act like clueless idiots who don't understand human language. And when they fail to grant impossible wishes, they do it in cruel, distorted ways.
"Time's up. What's your decision?" Ōnoki grabbed Deidara by the collar. If he even hinted at refusal, he'd be sacrificed on the spot.
Deidara nodded. But he made one request: spare Sasori's life.
Ōnoki gave a dry chuckle. "If only you showed that kind of sentiment around girls. With your looks and charm, you wouldn't still be single."
Deidara: "???" What's wrong with being single? I have my hands and mouth—what else do I need?
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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