A/N: I'm not positively sure if all of the facts are completely correct here, but I did my research. If I messed something up, think of it as slightly AU. I don't own Naruto, but I do own what I'm writing, the girl who makes an appearance in it...sorta. Oh! And beware spoilers. I've been very tired lately so if I happened to miss any typoes, please forgive me. Please follow through with the entire thing, the ending is friggen beautiful.
This one's for dbzfangirl9025. Enjoy!
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Fading Smoke
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"Life's only beautiful...because it's so fleeting, so transient."
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Art is indeed fleeting.
It's simple knowledge that nothing could ever last forever. Nothing. It's the way of the world, isn't it?
Erosion takes away the ground we walk on. Weather kills the plants who give us the air we rely on to breathe. Animals become extinct, artifacts will rot if left buried, the homes we live in are torn down by construction. Time steals the lives we live, slowly and eventually sending us all to this so-called "better place".
But as with everything else, death can be sped up.
A kunai is quite efficient.
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He surely isn't a normal child.
He, with his ecstatic blonde hair and strange way of speech, wanders aimlessly around the village of Iwagakure. When pedestrians shoot him the glares and stares he's just so used to, he shouts back at the top of his small lungs, "I am Deidara! Remember that name, un! 'Cos one day it will mean something! I swear it, un!"
He's only five years of age, with no family. His only 'friends' are the mouths on his hands.
Is that why they all shun his existence? Because he's different?
Where did he get the little demons from? The ones that grin manically back when he turns to his palms for answers? He can't escape their presence. When the boy sleeps at night he wonders if those monsters will try to devour him. When he asked them if they would ever try such a thing, his left hand frowned, and his right looked as though it was snickering. Deidara merely sneered back as evilly as he was able to. Such an innocent child's face shouldn't be used for such an expression.
Family is a foreign concept to him.
Kids, younger and older than himself, sometimes gather and complain about their Okaa-san's nagging or their Otou-san's negligence because of his shinobi work.
Arrogant! All of them arrogant fools!
A boy peeked over at Deidara once, narrowing his eyes. "Nah, you! What do you want?!"
"Arrogant!" Deidara screamed, clenching his fists in return. At five years, he was no match for this taller person, but he didn't care. No one little bit. "You're arrogant! Un!"
"Say that again, brat!" the dark-headed boy yelled back. "I dare you!"
His teeth grit and grinding painfully, Deidara opened his mouth, ready to shriek it once more. But something made him pause. He knew that these kids were all arrogant. And they outta know it. But even at his age, the lonely nomadic knew that they would never ever understand. They would not understand that a nagging Okaa-san and a negligent Otou-san was better than having none at all. They they should be ashamed of complaining about them and their love. That their Okaa-san nagged to make them better people, and their Otou-san was negligent because he had to support them. They were arrogant and ignorant and naïve.
So Deidara spat on the ground, his right hand doing the same, his left frowning again, and he stalked in the opposite direction. He heard a tiny voice call after him, saying, "W-Wait!"
Then that mean tone of the dark-headed boy. "Baka! Baka~! Scaredy baka!"
"Arrogant, un!"
And Deidara ran.
He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. The group pounded after him, infuriated at his insult. But in his mind, this had been no insult. It had been the severely harsh truth. Rage filled his heart, regret tainted his gasps, his eyes wide with subtle fear, and sadness mixed with determination pushed his feet onward.
He heard that girl calling out "Wait, wait!" at some point, but ignored it.
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That brat is alone.
He is pleasantly unaccepted.
Deidara did not escape those boys that day.
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He was no med-nin, no healer. And he didn't just mend himself like that. He's only human.
So trying to fix up his wrenched wrist, bruised and cut face, small missing patch of hair on the left side of his head, bloody nose, and overall sore body was pretty much in vain.
Deidara sat in an alley, back against the wall for whatever little security it offered, and spread out the stolen materials he'd gotten his teethed hands on. It's not like he had money to purchase anything or people he could ask. No one gave him a second glance.
He set the gauze to his far right, next to it smaller bandages, then the ointment tubes, and a rag he'd dampened at the public fountain. He sucked in a short breath, hissing at the sudden waves of aching that followed. Cautiously, he reached out for the rag and cleaned his wounds, doing his best to fix up his tiny, wrecked body.
Once everything that hurt was coated in a layer white cloth, the boy lied on his side, using his folded hands as a pillow. His long hair covered a good deal of his face, hiding his red cheeks and puffy eyes.
Don't cry...don't...please don't cry...stop it...!
Two big, swollen tears escaped his shut lids, spilling down his cheeks uncomfortably. A few blonde strands stuck to his warm skin, choking him. But Deidara just plain didn't care. His form curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. With short sleeves on his shirt, the night was cold.
He lied there, shivering, all night. His small form racked with shudders as he cried. All his short life, Deidara had tried to train himself not to do so. But when you've grown up with no one to love you, it tends to take a toll. What child his age has built up a solid emotional wall?
And the rain fell in a soft drizzle.
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At age seven and a half, Deidara has learned to fend for himself a little better.
When an adult turned to smack him for stealing, he'd dodge and kick their shin, then take off running. When a kid closer to his age raised a fist, he was sure to be the first to land a hit. Although he didn't make too solid of a fist, worried his hands would bite off his fingertips. Therefore, his punches weren't as effective as they could be, but it gave him more time to decided where to go from there.
He still doesn't have any friends.
But that's at the back of his mind lately.
Deidara has begun to awaken his kekkei genkai. His Bloodline Limit. Because for some reason, he discovered another mouth, similar to the ones on his palms, forming on his chest. It's tiny, about the size of his index fingernail. But it's alive enough to poke out a very tiny tongue. Deidara touched it once, and it nearly bit him. He wonders if there's a way to create a truce with the demons.
He's also found out that he once belonged to a Clan that used explosions in battle.
Why the hell they would do that is beyond him.
Explosions are stupid. They go boom and it's all over.
But...if it means he can belong...he's willing to give the techniques a shot. And the Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, Ōnoki, had been searching for a young person to tutor. Deidara figured it could work if he tried.
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"Stay away from that brat. He's trouble."
"It's filthy."
"Look at him! He's so...different!"
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Deidara pursed his lips, lifted a brow, narrowed one eye, and cocked his head to the side.
Ōnoki moaned, already sick of the kid.
"So...you're to be my apprentice," the Tsuchikage declared for the fifth time.
"Yes, un," Deidara replied, fidgeting.
The old man sighed, shaking his head. Why he had been given such a young apprentice was beyond him. But he had supposedly surpassed the other students in thinking skills and he was already awakening his kekkei genkai. That was a big feat for someone his age, and Ōnoki was secretly impressed.
What Deidara didn't tell his new teacher was that he was an orphan. In his mind, if the Tsuchikage-sama knew of this, the Iwagakure leader would treat him differently. And with determination in his eyes, Deidara knew he wanted to accomplish this as a 'normal' person.
At that thought, his right hand smirked, and his left scowled.
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He knew he was being followed.
But Deidara just plain didn't give a damn.
Footsteps sounded around the empty streets as the silhouette headed down it. His body ached as he entered his alley and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down it to a sitting position. Tsuchikage-sensei pushed him so hard! (Of course, what the child didn't know, was that Ōnoki gave up the training as soon as he knew Deidara's body was at it's limits.) Seriously, who forced an eight-ear-old to work that much?!
There was a soft shuffling sound, but Deidara ignored it, closing his eyes and sighing thickly. His finger twitched slightly, avoiding his lethal palms. The mouth on his chest, now the size of a small coin, gurgled and grinded its teeth. Deidara mentally told it to shut up. In response, a dribble of saliva slid down his stomach. Although he wanted to shudder, the boy was just too weary to move. His long, blonde bangs cast a shadow over his relaxed face.
The shuffling came again, quietly...then faded...then returned for a second or so..and stopped again.
There was a drawn out pause as Deidara half-listened for the sound. And for a while, nothing happened. That is, until, he heard the noise of knuckles against stone. Someone was knocking on his alleyway...
Limply, Deidara lifted his head, peeling open one blue eye.
He met a pair large, brown ones.
She was small, a little younger than himself, that much he could tell. What immediately caught his interest was her curled blonde hair.
No one in Iwagakure had blonde hair nowadays.
He was often teased for it.
...Was she?
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At nine, Deidara still wasn't improving as much as he should in his jutsu.
Instead, Ōnoki continuously found his apprentice doodling on his written assignments, and gazing at things that made no sense to the Tsuchikage whatsoever.
One day, the old man wandered up next to the child, who was observing a mountain landscape. The Hidden Stone was rather known for them, so it intrigued Ōnoki as to why Deidara was so fond of the view. Though not to say it wasn't beautiful. It was a line of three peaks, snow at the tips, with greenery cloaking their massive cliffs and slopes. Mist lingered halfway up them, adding to the dramatic scene. The sky was painted a deep cobalt, indicating it was midday.
Deidara sat on a rock nearby, hugging his knees to his body loosely, staring at the sight intently. A gentle breeze buffeted his irritatingly bright hair, tangling it.
Hands folded behind his back, Ōnoki walked up next to the rock and grunted. Deidara glanced over, lips parted a bit. "Tsuchikage-sensei?"
"Why aren't you training?"
"..."
When Ōnoki proceeded to await his answer, the boy groaned and dipped his chin, defeated. The village head smirked, turning his attention back to the valley that gave way to the mountains. "What do you see in this?"
"Hm?"
"I'm wondering how you could possible look at the same thing for so long, kodomo. No matter how lovely it is, I fail to understand your point of view."
Deidara tilted his head, grinning gradually. Ōnoki watched, interested, as the kid leaped to his feet, spreading out his arms toward the world. The old man tried his best to remember the last time he'd seen the boy smile like that. He was unable to.
"Tsuchikage-sensei!" Deidara laughed, still facing away. "Look at it! How could I not behold it for so long? Forever, even?! This here, this is art, un!"
"Art, huh?"
"Yeah!" he exclaimed, lowering his arms, but still allowing the strengthening wind to surround him as he perched up there. "Eternal, un. That is what art is. These mountains, they'll last for a long time, maybe even for eternity. Even if they change from fertile to in drought to volcanic, they'll still be there. That is the beauty of it, Tsuchikage-sensei, un! Eternal art is a way for a person, who has lived within so much reality, to take a break and know that something will never disappear. Like you, un!" he shouted, spinning around and pointing his index finger that the elder. "You're always so busy with whatever it is you do. But then you can remember Iwa! The people in it now will leave or pass on eventually, but this place will always be here so long as we protect it. The blood of our comrades will remain in the next generations. This entire world, Tsuchikage-sensei! This world is art because it's eternal, un!"
Deidara took a deep breath, gasping after his heartfelt speech.
Ōnoki chuckled to himself, amazed that a young thing like his apprentice could see the positive side in this forsaken world of shinobi.
What a foolish student.
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"When did you forsake yourselves?"
Ōnoki grits his teeth at this mere child. But Gaara brushes it off, rushing off to go after Sasuke, closely followed by his guards. He has heard that the young Kazekage had been dragged into a run-in with his former apprentice.
Those words echo in his head, all those years later. "Tsuchikage-sensei! Look at it!" And he does. Ōnoki takes a good look at this 'mere child' who has just proved one hell of a good point.
And Ōnoki wonders if his former apprentice's lost idea of a better world lives on in this Suna boy.
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"See you tomorrow, Tsuchikage-sensei!" Deidara called over his shoulder, running away from the old geezer. His footsteps pattered along the cobbled ground as he hurried excitedly uptown. Scornful adults cursed at him as he shoulders passed, and mean children cracked their joints. But every one of them knew they wouldn't be able to catch the troublemaker. He was much too fast; speed worked up from running all his life.
Soon enough, his legs led him out of the village lines, and up a hill along a path he himself had worn away. Once he finally reached his destination, his hands were on his knees as he claimed air into his lungs.
After he regained his composure, Deidara lifted his head to see her.
"Oi! Hey, training is done, un!"
On the rock he has sat upon for so many years, the one with the view of the mountains, perched a girl. She was cross-legged, leaned forward as she thought to herself. When she heard Deidara yell, she peered over and beamed at him. "'Bout time, baka!"
Her big brown eyes glinted with mischievousness, her curled blonde hair messy from the wind that always plagued this area.
"How was Tsuchikage-sama today?" she asked as he joined her on the rock.
He shrugged, cradling his chin on the back of his hand. "The usual. Telling me my style is stupid and saying to take a break from art, un."
"Eternal...," she huffed, giggling. "Now that's stupid. Art is fleeting, Deidara-kun."
"Nu-uh!"
They argue about this every day. But it's a friendly arguing.
Deidara never feels out of place when he's with this girl. Both of them deal with the jeering at their eccentric blonde hair together, enduring life. She has no Kaa-san either; she does have an Otou-san. But he doesn't care about her, that bastard. Deidara has never seen him, but he certainly hates him. She doesn't, though. And what's great about this girl, who's name she won't tell, is that she has accepted the fact that Deidara is different. In fact, she has the ability to joke with him about his bizarre Bloodline Limit - the one no one seems to share with him. Once, she poked the lips of his left hand, and high-fived his right hand so hard that the mouth on it snarled. Deidara had never laughed so hard in his life (mostly 'cause Righty deserved it.)
Deidara hasn't told her about the third demon growing on his chest yet. He's scared. Not only of her reaction, but also of it. The thing was two inches across now, with a tongue long enough to disturb his shirt.
"But you have to admit," he smiled, "you hope right now would be eternal, un."
She frowned, peeking at him. The accusation had caught her off guard. But after a minute: "I suppose so..."
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Round brown eyes fill with un-shed tears.
Her Otou-san glares back coldly.
The image of her dead Okaa-san's glassy stare fill her mind.
The village boys point and laugh at her bright hair.
The village girls whisper and turn their backs.
But Deidara-kun just looks back at her as she hides behind the corner to his alleyway after she'd followed him home one day. And Deidara-kun...smiles.
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"I hate this!"
"Shut up."
"But I do, un!"
The girl lifted a brow, shaking her head disapprovingly. "You need to learn how to like your kekkei genkai. Otherwise you won't be able to master it properly." Deidara put on a pouting expression, lifting his hands so he could examine them. Her breath caught a bit as his right hand's tongue stuck out, trying to lick Deidara's face. The blonde boy yelped and shook his wrist, while his left hand pursed it's lips.
"I hate these things, too, un!" he yowled, seething.
They were practicing their skills in foothills, about two and half miles from Iwa. It was late afternoon, warm and sticky out. Deidara was up for going through all he'd learned in front of his partner, but was having difficulty.
She stood from her spot on the dusty ground, brushing off her typical shinobi-styled pants. Her red shirt had a gray splotch on it from her earlier turn of practice. The nameless child stepped toward her friend, reaching out with both hands, and taking it, steering clear of the palm that bite. His eyes got real wide as Deidara's face snapped in front of her's, surprised. Her brown eyes narrowed some, and she bite her lip, thinking of where to start. "You need to like your jutsu. A Bloodline Limit is something to be proud of." She thought more, her glinting gaze turning to a delighted twinkle. "I know! You need to make fighting fun!"
"How is fighting fun?" Deidara growled.
The fair girl smirked. "How about a catchphrase?"
"A what?"
"When you make your clay explode, it's rather boring," she shrugged. "You make a seal and boom goes the clay, then it's all over. Try shouting something! Like...I dunno, maybe scream about your art obsession!"
"It's no obsession, un!"
"Is so! Now give it a try!"
Deidara knitted his eyebrows. "But...what do I say?"
The girl tilted her head, curls falling from her shoulders. "Hmm... How about...explosions are art! No, that's dumb... Art is... Art is a-"
"Bang?"
"That's it!" the nameless girl simpered, clenching her hands tighter. "Art is a bang! Now try that!"
Deidara puffed out his cheeks, unsure of what she was getting at, but went along with it anyway. He reached into the pouch that he kept at his hip, his left hand chewing on some of the white clay. Deidara waited a second, and out popped a lump of the stuff. Quickly but intricately, he created a tiny sculpture; the shape of a bird. He then lifted it to the sky, tossing it, and the bird flapped its wings as his chakra set it flying. The girl already had her ears plugged and one eye closed. Deidara made the seal, hesitating, before shrieking, "Art is...a bang!"
With that, the bird shook and burst into fire and smoke, leaving the blue sky streaked with color. And within moments, it was all over. It saddened, Deidara. This was not his idea of true art, and it was getting to him. But the catchphrase idea had left a nice effect in truth. He snickered.
"Not bad..."
"Missing something."
"Is not, un!"
"Is, too!" the girl retorted. "You need something more, Deidara-kun..."
Deidara rolled his blue eyes. "I'm hungry, let's go steal something to eat and settle in for the night!"
The nameless kid scowled, but chased after him as he scampered off, laughing.
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At thirteen, going on fourteen, Deidara had learned how to tolerate his Bloodline Limit.
His new best friend, that brown-eyed girl, could beat him at any game they played and every practice battle they engaged in. With her own kekkei genkai mastered now, a genjutsu called Husuigan, she had surpassed him. Not that he cared.
Her dark eyes were stretched wide now, fixated upwards at the black sky. She was leaned back on her fingers, legs propped up. Deidara himself was next to her, one arm resting on a leg, also in a relaxed position.
It was the Tsuchikage's date of birth. And although his mentor hated the idea and was against it completely, Iwagakure was holding a celebration. Ōnoki was hauled up in his office, huffing like a baby. Deidara thought it was amusing. In festivity for the special day, until late that night, fireworks would be shot off over the village. His friend, the nameless girl, was excited. He didn't even want to go until she pulled him by the arm.
Now...he was kind of glad he had.
The fireworks were loud and annoying, so bright and colorful. But they were anything but eternal, and faded into smoke like his jutsu. He would have left to his alley had she not been there, entranced.
So Deidara stayed, putting up with the show with the most invisible of smiles on his half-hidden face.
That night was a great one.
At one point, the girl had taken a band she'd had and tied her hair up on her head, in a ponytail that sat at the very top of her like a beacon. It looked horrendous, but it was funny. At another time, Deidara stood and pretended to be Tsuchikage-sensei, talking in a gruff voice and walking around all important-like, rambling about being old.
The girl pulled the brown hair-tie off, the one she'd tied her hair up with, and flung it at his face with spot-on aim.
But when the party was coming to an end, the best part happened.
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Deidara smiles that night, when the nameless girl has left to her own place, and he in his alley.
He can still feel the place where she had kissed his cheek.
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"Hold still."
"OW! OW OW OW UN!"
"Wimp!"
Deidara clenched his jaw, sweating, back rigid.
Why? Why did she have to know?
That stupid mouth on his chest had decided to make itself known. As huge as it was now, after the years it grasped to mature, it was able to bite a hole in his uniform and slurp out its ugly tongue. The girl had screamed, stumbling back in shock. Deidara almost had a heart attack.
Now, the girl was holding him against a wall in his alley, telling him to stay still.
This person...she was so...willing to accept him for who he was... Deidara didn't understand. After all she'd been through, why was she so kind? Sure, she could be violent and stubborn, but she had her moments where she was nicest person ever. She...cared. She actually gave more than a damn about him. It left him confused...but...happy.
"Quit squirming! I know it hurts, but you have to let me finish!"
"I'm trying, un!"
Shirt off, he felt exposed to the evening air and embarrassed. But the girl didn't seem too worried about it. In her hand was a sharp needle and thick, wiry thread that she'd stolen from a med-nin's stash.
In other words, she was doing something about the demon that dwelled by his heart.
He hated to admit it, but it hurt. That needle was dangerous and big and was painful as it entered his skin. Little by little, she was able to sew up the lips of the mouth, leaving it struggling to undo the binds. His flesh was ripping slightly, and at one point, Deidara whimpered pitifully. The girl just put an arm around him, holding his body close. After about an hour, the demon gave up, ceased its gargling and hissing, and seemed to sleep.
"Don't you untie that now," she whispered to him after a while longer. "Perhaps it will stop growing from here on." With that piece of advice, she sat up and pulled out some clean cloth, wiping away the blood that had been coughed up by the mouth earlier, and from the small tears in his strained stitches.
"I wonder if it can mold clay, like my hands," Deidara murmured, exhausted and still feeling the sting of the wire. "I bet it makes one hell of an explosion, un."
She glowered at him. "Well, you certainly aren't trying it."
"Don't worry."
She set her hands in her lap, leaning back on her heels with an expressionless face. Deidara, once he'd caught his breath, took a look at her. Her blonde curls were pulled up in that goofy ponytail that sat at the very top of her head. She had a tiny red stain on her cheek from the incident with the demon spitting it up at her. Her brown eyes narrowed and fingers folded into a ball, she seemed distraught.
Deidara, suddenly felt guilty, tentatively reached out a hand, using the back of it to wipe away the stain. She blinked, gaze snapping up to meet his. He offered her a sheepish grin.
"...I'm sorry..."
She sighed, shoulders slumping. "...I know, Deidara-kun."
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Deidara looks in the mirror.
These Akatsuki thugs aren't going to let him leave, are they?
Damn that Itachi...
He wonders for a brief moment what the heck he's doing in a place like this.
But instead of worrying about such a stupid thing, the young man pulls out a brown hair-tie. He stares at it a moment, blankly, as it dangles from his fingers. Finally, he shakes his head, and grabs a handful of of his thick, long, irritatingly blonde hair, and ties it into a goofy ponytail at the very top of his head.
His right hands nips and pulls a lock.
His left hand simply frowns, as it always seems to do.
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"There's no way in hell you're going alone!"
"I'm fourteen! I'm older than you! I can take care of myself!"
"I don't care, I'm coming, too!"
"I have more experience in situations like this!"
"I'm stronger than you are in battle!"
"I-...whatever! But you're still not coming!" Deidara growled, crossing his arms.
The nameless girl clenched her jaw, unwavering. "You have no authority over me." Her lip stuck out for extra emphasis. They glared at each other for a long time, Deidara on the brink of getting angry, the petite lady ready to whack him over the head. But neither moved so much as an inch. And for a quite a period, too.
"No," Deidara declared harshly, straightening his spine and lowering his fists. "You're not coming on this mission. It's A-Rank, and I don't want you getting injured. Besides. Tsuchikage-sensei only wants me and a select team. You have to stay-"
Crack.
Deidara, eyes wide, found himself whipped at his side. His bangs, grown longer now, wafted before his blue eye, and he spotted a single gray strand amass with the blonde. The scouter on his other eye rattled, almost painfully as it screwed with the reddened vision. His jaw agape ever so slightly, the older boy turned to the girl.
She was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. A curl fell in over her forehead as she shivered, shaking the hand she had slapped him with. "I'm going. You can't stop me, baka." She spat that last word.
Recovered somewhat, Deidara regained his dignity, adjusted his metal scope, and deadpanned himself. In an even voice, a tone that had deepened over the years, he said, "You have to stay behind."
With that, he moved around, back shunning the only real friend he'd ever had, and stalked off into the shadows of the late evening. And although he didn't noticed it, his hands were buried in his pockets, gripped so tightly that neither demon could try and bite.
That female friend of his didn't care.
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'I've noticed you for so long...ever since you were barely tall enough to reach a tabletop. When the bullies came to beat you, I'd try and help. But I was too young, too weak. So I wanted to train. I didn't know you, but I wanted to get stronger so I could help you.'
A single, shining tear slips from the brown-eyed girl.
'That day, when the mean boys caught you, I worked up the courage to follow you home. What I wasn't expecting was the alley you resided in. I was so scared...but I managed to make myself known. You were so tired...but you...smiled.'
A mask comes across her face, hiding her feminine emotions that she hates so very much.
'I've accepted you, and you've accepted me. I think that over these years we've spent, I've grown...rather fond of you. You and your dumb grin and creepy hands and foolish idea of eternity.'
Wind smacks her full force as she leaps forward.
'But I've got something to tell you, Deidara-kun... I've never had a true name. My Otou-san always called me brat and my Okaa-san died when I was very little. If I ever had a name, I don't remember it. But you...you have a name, Deidara-kun! And you can take that name of yours so far!'
She smirks to herself.
'I'm sorry I could never give you a name to call me by, Deidara-kun. But I hope I was able you give you something more. Like my friendship. Because you gave me the same thing. You gave me your smile.'
Her Hisuigan creeps in activation, her brown eyes constricting into pale blue pinpricks.
'Thank you, Deidara-kun...'
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Deidara swallowed a gulp of air, a little tired from the chakra it had taken to create such large birds of clay. Careful as not to detonate it, the ninja climbed abroad one stealthily, addressing the other two shinobi who have joined him on the mission. Both were more experienced men than him, but they respected his judgement nonetheless. After all, the Tsuchikage of Iwagakure had put his faith in him.
The apprentice of the head gave his orders, telling the two member of the Explosions Corps to give each other a wide spacing as not to interfere with other's styles. Deidara, like the others, would be scouting, spotting the enemy from above, and dropping his bombs.
They nodded in understanding and took off North. Deidara went at an angle, encouraging the wings to flap Northeast. The world spiraled below him dizzily. He held tightly, forcing enough chakra at his feet to survive a hurricane and still be standing on the thing.
Nervousness mixed with eagerness made his skin tingle. But Deidara ignored it, a wide grin spreading at his face.
The only things he had to concentrate on now were blocking the argument between him and her from his mind, and accomplishing this A-Rank.
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"Art is...a bang!"
Smoke rose from the mountainside, a sight that saddened Deidara. He was doing a fine job of ruining his favorite view of the range by burning the greenery. But this was his job, after all.
Fire crackled, screams of victims pounded in the ears of the three assault artists, that smoke choked the sky, and ashes rained from the heavens. Deidara's bird gave an artificial squawk as they did a dip in midair, growing closer to the ground.
The boy, who had today become a man, squinted through the black soot to see if he could spot any more potential 'bad guys'. What he saw was quite different.
In all of the heat and handicap of failed vision, one of the Explosion Corps members had gotten himself lost. Deidara's visible blue eyes widened as he desperately tried to back up the bird. An ember whizzed by as another boom sounded, grazing and singing his cheek. He hissed softly as intense flame shot up before him.
Suddenly, that missing-in-action shinobi was there, riding on a similar flying creature Deidara had made for him to ride upon. The ninja's eyes filled fear, and Deidara lost sight of him. But that was at the back of his mind as he readied himself to jump.
In a heap of green ninja uniform, long blonde hair, and weary body, Deidara slammed into the stony ground. He rolled down the mountainside for a ways as the two clay birds collided. An enormous explosion erupted, rattling the ground. Pebbles landed on his back as Deidara covered his head for protection. He felt the searing flames fly above, only a short ways over his helpless form. His scope clattered off of his face; as it did so, Deidara watched the single gray strand sizzle away.
When it passed, Deidara slit open his eyes, the hearing in his ears temporarily missing. Shapes in the smoke came into view, and panic gripped his throat. His left hand scowled, his right began to chatter. The demon on his chest twitched.
Immediately, he reached into the pouch at his hip, digging for clay. His hands chewed madly as Deidara got to his feet. He swayed a little, still discombobulated, as the spiders crawled from his mouths into his palms. He threw them, screaming nonsense, somewhere in the sentence mentioning art.
Deidara faced the other direction as the bombs went off, and he felt hair get in his mouth. He spat, turning back around. Dead bodies littered the ground once the smog cleared. Deidara gasped for breath, holding his aching side, still feeling the fresh burn on his cheek.
There was a moment.
It was one of those moments where the world slows down and goes mute. When everything becomes irrelevant and far away.
Everything but the main focus.
A survivor stands from behind, grabbing a kunai and taking aim at the Iwa brat. He can't dodge, can't even turn around to see it be thrown in time.
Deidara's jaw unhinges in disbelief when he hears the shriek of a familiar voice. And the blood-curdling noise of pierced flesh.
A stray clay spider skirted quickly towards the attacker, attaching itself and instantly killing the enemy. Deidara, spun around, eyes large and glazed over. He reached out, catching the girl that fell into his arms. It took a second to process that he'd dropped to his knees. He was hugging the body close to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. That panic subsided into horror.
"Deidara-kun..." It was a whisper, barely audible.
Slowly, stiffly, he shifted a tiny bit to a more comfortable position, to make sure she wasn't in as much pain. A bloodied blonde curl cast over her forehead again. Her brown eyes were glassy and half-closed.
"Why...?"
He didn't dare touch the kunai embedded in her back, aimed for the center, for her heart.
"...Why...?"
He felt blood that had escaped her lips trickle down his own neck. This time, he shuddered.
"Why?!" he screamed. "I told you to stay behind, un!"
The girl in his arms shook weakly, murmuring, "You almost died, you idiot... Besides...I told you I wasn't...letting you go alone..."
"Why?" Deidara gaped, squeezing hard. "You're stronger than I am."
"You know...," she chuckled hoarsely. "I said once...that you were missing something...to your catchphrase..."
He felt his stomach hollow. "Huh?"
"You remember," she mused, lifting her arm limply. "...'Art is a bang' just doesn't...work..." She was interrupted by a coughing fit. Deidara grimaced as more sticky liquid pooled down his neck. "I think...I know what you could try..."
He wanted to thank her, to tell her everything would be alright. His muscles were numb. He wanted to make her happy. So he muttered a gentle, "Let's hear it then, un."
She laughed, which sounded bubbly do to her clogging lungs. "Art is a bang...katsu!" Two fingers touched his cheek, right where his burn stung. She wiped away the ash that smeared it.
"Interesting..."
"I know it's silly...," she breathed. "But...I like the ring to it...don't you...?"
Deidara smiled sadly, embracing her. The girl's chakra was fading rapidly. "Yeah."
He couldn't see it, but her brown eyes slid shut, and she, too, smiled sorrowfully. With her last breath, she uttered one last thing. "I do wish that art was indeed...eternal. Then...maybe we could have had a future, Deidara-kun..."
She wheezed, sighed, and lay still.
Deidara's heart skipped a beat, then seemed to pause as he tightened his grip on the cold, cold body of his one and only true friend.
And he cried, that day, eyes stinging from the smokey tears, for the friend he had truly loved.
.
.
The village burned.
It burned for all of the pain, the anger he felt. It burned because of the people who had hurt him and the girl; for vengeance. His chest knotted with rage.
The smoke, the explosions, the art. He watched as Iwa experienced the pain he had felt all his life.
For the hair he'd never cut because he had no tools, for every blow he'd received by mean adults and children, for the alley he'd been left in like a piece of litter, for the shear loneliness.
But mostly for the girl who they all rejected, pointed fingers at, disgraced along with him.
The one who lay dead on the battle field, with a frozen smile on her face.
Ōnoki looked on with disapproval as Deidara flew by on his clay bird, laughing down at the helpless people. He felt an empty pit in his belly, knowing the boy he had almost raised, the one who had called him sensei, was officially gone. And he sheds a tear for Deidara's pain that he feels within the burning fires.
And a new determination fills his eyes as his apprentice's mad, mad laughter lingers about the scarred mountain ranges of Iwagakure; the ones a naïve child had once loved so much.
.
.
There is no way art could ever be eternal.
That brat realizes it now.
The one who is trouble, who is different. The one who has endangered us all. The terrorist. The mere boy who has lost his only friend, the only person he truly loved.
But even that brat realizes that even the most powerful thing known to man, love, does not last an eternity.
It's ripped away eventually, one way or another.
A kunai is quite efficient.
.
.
"Eternal."
"Fleeting, un."
"Eternal, brat."
"I'll say it again," Deidara stopped walking, crossing his arms, "art is indeed fleeting, Danna. And don't call me that."
Sasori halted as well, glaring at his partner through the fake eyes of the puppet he resided within. "Art is something a person can admire for as long as they feel the need to appreciate it for. If it disappears, it is no longer art. It couldn't be if it doesn't even exist."
Deidara gave him an unreadable look, lifting his right hand and dipping it into the pouch he always kept ready. It seemed to cackle before chomping on some clay. Sasori frowned, as did the brat's left hand. The former Suna puppeteer watched, half-interested as Deidara lifted his arm into the arm, a clay bird perched on his fingertips. His lips curled into a smirk behind his long, blonde hair.
"Sasori no Danna, look at it!" Deidara insisted, visible eye twinkling. "This here is a perfect example, un! If this bird were alive, it would eventually die from either unnatural or natural causes. Either way, it would pass on to a dimension humans refer to as 'a better place'. After all, it's simple knowledge that nothing could ever last forever, un. Even mountains cannot remain on Earth for all eternity. They go from fertile, to in drought, and even wither away from erosion. Animals go extinct, homes are destroyed, plants are killed. Men and women alike perish, un. No matter how strong a person gets, even stronger than myself, they will die in the most unexpected of ways. Do you see, Danna?" Deidara lifted a brow at him. "There is no such thing as 'eternal'."
Sasori has no answer. For some reason, he's intrigued by this kid. He's only sixteen. They were paired as partners by the leader of Akatsuki two months ago and he already hated the brat. But he was...interesting, to say the least. Especially the way he used a brown tie to put his irritatingly bright hair into a goofy ponytail that sat atop his head like a beacon. Why he did such a thing was beyond the older figure.
So, Sasori waits for the boy to continue.
Deidara's eye grows wide, almost sadistic. There is something else in there, though. Sasori can't decipher it. Longing? Sadness? Maybe.
The bird that sits on his fingers spreads it's petite wings and flaps upwards. Deidara grins. "Life is only beautiful, Danna, because it is fleeting. Nothing lasts forever. Not life, not love."
Sasori frowns at that, wondering where the brat ever got such a notion.
Deidara laughs to himself, for whatever reason. The bird is high above them now, a safe distance. His hand forms a basic seal as he says something under his breath. "Art is a bang..."
The bird spirals, and Sasori gets one good look at it before it explodes. Those coal black eyes he'd seen before really aren't black. When the sun hits them just right, the black turns to a deep, milky brown.
"KATSU!"
And as the rain falls in a soft drizzle, Deidara's grin fades, as does the remaining smoke.
.
.
.
.
"Fine art is the beauty of that single fleeting moment of explosion."
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.
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~Finish~
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