AN: A few years ago, I wrote this three-part oneshot OC/Deidara fanfic when I was a major fangirl of his. KB and I have read through it and we both agree that it's lacking in certain things. However, I decided to serve it to you guys on a silver platter. Have fun tearing it to shreds! :)

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only. And I would laugh my ass off if Kishimoto ever wrote something like this . . .

Obsession: Transient

It would've been too ambiguous to say that she loved him. No, she didn't hold any affection for the man, not in a romantic way. First off, she was too young to feel such things, especially for a man—a boy, really—who was two years her senior.

No, Isane did not love Deidara.

But . . . she did respect him.

Or more specifically, she respected his art.

Clay formed to perfection, so beautiful that even the most un-artistic people had to admire the blond's skill, only to be destroyed in a burst of fire, light, heat, and noise.

BOOM!

Yes, Isane admired his art like no other but the creator himself. She saw the true value of his art. For something so beautiful and precious to be admired, cherished, and loved . . . only for it to be taken away in an instant.

The tragedy of its loss was so realistic that Isane was surprised that something seemingly so simple was not truly appreciated by many others. All they saw was a destructive boy whose sanity clearly wasn't the best and likely never had been.

"He's crazy," they would say. "Children, don't go near him. He'll kill you with one of his bombs if you get too close."

And of course children being children—so young, foolish, and naïve—they would listen. All except Isane because she saw things for what they were.

The adults were afraid. Of the crazy blond boy and his art. What his art represented.

Isane supposed she could pardon the other kids. They really didn't understand what she did. How his art represented the truly fragile balance between life and death, and how sudden one's life could be taken away.

Perhaps that wasn't what he was going for. Isane had wondered that every now and then when she watched him work on his art from afar. Perhaps he just liked to watch the devastation the explosions brought to the world. She knew people could get a strange high from holding so much power and destruction in their control. She often felt the same with her lightning chakra and infusing it into her special kunai.

He did seem like a typical pyromaniac, except he used clay bombs instead of actual fire. Isane couldn't really figure out his reasons for making art unless if she asked him, and there was no way in hell she was doing that. Curious she may be, but she didn't like asking people questions. Besides, there was that old proverb about curiosity and the cat.

And Isane was too stubborn to depend on others for answers she believed she could discover herself. So she merely observed the blond from a distance, feeling no need to close it even as days turned into weeks and those weeks slowly became a month.

But of course he was bound to notice his little admirer eventually. He was a highly-trained shinobi after all, and she was only ten—she was not officially even a genin.

In fact, he had noticed her within the first few days of her observation. Deidara almost called it a crush since all she seemed to do was watch him, but he soon realized that it wasn't him she watched. At least not all the time.

No, she would always watch his art. Her bottle-green eyes widening slightly in interest every time he would detonate each clay creation. The only few times he secretly caught her watching him was when he would laze about for a while and contemplate his art and how he could improve it, because every true artist knew there was always room for improvement.

What seemed odd to him (other than the fact that he was apparently being stalked by a little girl) was that the strange brunette never showed any desire to approach him.

Didn't she want to know about him and his art? Ask him questions? It seemed he was the only one with questions.

Though to be honest, he liked the fact that she was watching, regardless of whether she approached him or not. It felt good to know that at least someone appreciated the true beauty of his art. Or at least that's what he assumed since she always watched his clay creations explode. The only possible way to know what she was really thinking would be to ask her.

A month later, he finally decided it was time to confront his strange little follower. And the girl's reaction was probably the most amusing he'd ever witnessed.

Isane wondered where the blond boy was upon arriving at the clearing where he usually practiced his art and finding it empty. She frowned at the barren training field for a moment before shrugging and plopping down on the ground, pulling out a kunai and concentrating on running her lightning chakra through the metal until it vibrated in her palm with a satisfying hum. Though she wasn't officially a genin yet, Isane still liked to train her abilities to the best she could with her limited knowledge.

"So you can wield lightning chakra? That's pretty rare, hm . . . Especially in this village."

The voice startled Isane so much that she lost control of her lighting chakra and without her concentration the chakra surged wildly and caused the kunai to explode in her hand. Isane yelped again, this time in pain as fragments of metal embedded themselves into her palm while the rest went flying into the woods around her.

As soon as she adjusted to the pain, Isane whirled around at the blond who was studying her with an amused smirk. "Must you sneak up on me?" she nearly snarled, but kept her tone cool.

He arched an eyebrow and snorted, chuckling at her indignant expression. "That's rich, kid. Me sneaking up on you? Hm, who's the one that's been spying on me for a whole month?"

Isane's cheeks immediately flushed red with the knowledge that he had known . . . Well, of course he'd have known! Isane scolded herself silently. He is a shinobi, after all. It would've been really sad if he couldn't detect someone as untrained as me.

"I just wanted to watch," she mumbled, refusing to apologize for something she felt absolutely no repentance for.

His blue eyes—correction, eye (his left was covered by one long golden bang) shone with amusement as he stared down at her. Isane shifted, uncomfortable at the intense scrutiny of the boy she had been watching for so long now.

Karma's a bitch, the brunette thought, looking up to meet his gaze with a stubbornness her aunty told her she'd inherited from her father. "What?" she snapped when he said nothing.

The boy's smirk widened into a grin at her feisty response, and he was reminded of himself whenever he was being lectured by his sensei. He surprised her when he knelt down in front of her and grabbed her injured hand, inspecting the wound. "It's not a good idea to leave those in there, kid," he informed, nodding at the metal fragments buried into the flesh of her hand. "Not unless you want to lose your hand."

She growled at him but didn't yank her hand away, choosing instead to glare at him with annoyance burning in her bright eyes. "Way to state the obvious, Blondie."

He rolled his eyes. "Use my name, kid. It's Deidara, hm."

Her eyes narrowed further until they resembled slits. "Then use my name, Deidara. It's Isane."

"Nice to finally put a name to my little stalker, hm."

"I'm not a stalker!" Isane snarled. She huffed at his skeptical look and finally yanked her hand away to cross her arms. "I was just a bit curious."

"Ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?" Deidara drawled as he stood, smirking smugly down at the irritated girl.

"Yeah, and satisfaction brought it back," she countered mulishly, unwilling to concede defeat.

The blond just shook his head, deciding to quit wasting time and get right to the point. "So care to tell me why you're following me around, Isane, hm?"

She huffed, "Like I said—simply curiosity." But at his arched eyebrow she reluctantly clarified, "About your art. I wanted to know why you always destroy it."

He stared down at her thoughtfully, though she wouldn't meet his gaze this time. Most likely out of embarrassment at having been caught. "Because true art is fleeting," he answered, wondering what she would say to that.

And her response did surprise him. Isane gazed up at him with a solemn look in her eyes. "Transient like life, right?" she asked with a seriousness not usually seen in children her age.

Deidara smiled, but it was a grim smile. "Yeah, like life, kid. That's art."

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped and his smile was once again that infuriating trademark smirk of his.

After that encounter, Isane was never far from Deidara's side, especially when he was working on his art. Unlike most shinobi his age, Deidara didn't really find the presence of a genin-in-training to be a nuisance. To him, Isane was like an apprentice. Eager to learn about his art, respecting it, and gradually him, and not just accepting his lessons without question like a fan would, but also shooting down some of them with her own theories.

The saying goes that a good teacher will teach his students, but the best teacher learns from them. And for a long time, Deidara and Isane's relationship was like that.

Until that day where Deidara made a decision that would change their lives forever.

AN: So . . . anyone want to run away screaming yet? No? Fine, but the next part may scare you away. Just you wait.

~amkay