Title: To give art a name
By: Alysilita
Summary: Was my art ever going to amount to anything significant? When all of these people were so blind, so ignorant to the sheer beauty of it, that they mockingly deemed it 'terrorism' or 'evil'?
A/N: Shippers don your goggles. I suppose it could be light SasoDei since I mention it but whether you can class it as that is entirely up to you. I like Deidara and, like Hidan, wish he was in it more. Anyway, on with the show.
Am I a bad person?
Depends on your idea of bad, I guess. After all, what you could consider bad, another may see it as just another grey area between the black and white blocks known as evil and good. 'Goodness', as far as I can see, is a construct based on personal belief and not one person is ever able to define this without the opinion of another contrasting and making way for some confusion.
Some people view the lines between good and evil as merely an obstacle, and some view it as a brick wall that once you cross over, you may never come back.
I am none of these people.
So am I a good person? Not by far, but I don't consider myself a bad person. Everything I've ever done is for one single purpose after all. I never intended to harm anybody, though I have to admit, it didn't and still does not bother me a single bit how many people I have harmed in the process. Everything I've done has always been to seek that higher purpose - to reach that blissful moment, where I can truly believe that I am an artist.
But people would still view me as a bad person, no matter what I say. And I don't blame them - if I was looking at myself from the outside, I would probably have the same judgements. Then again, nobody really understands the intentions of another, and this is the same case.
But this is besides the point, and I fear that I may not have the time to go into the grand debate of morality and ethics at this very moment.
The point is, you have to keep in mind that although my actions may not be deemed morally acceptable, they were never for nothing - they were never just 'harmless fun'. Everything I do, and did, is for a reason and that reason remains solid however you put it.
What am I? I'd like to believe that I am an artist, though there were moments where I began to question this. Was my art ever going to amount to anything significant? When all of these people were so blind, so ignorant to the sheer beauty of it, that they mockingly deemed it 'terrorism' or 'evil'? But no matter what other people believed, I held strong to my ideals and I still don't regret a thing - life is fleeting, so why have regret?
There have been many annoyances, not regrets, in my short but meaningful - I believe that it at least held some amount of meaning after all - life.
The man who ridiculed me - who openly mocked everything I stood for and believed, and despite all of this, had the sheer gall to emit the aura that he was the better one. Oh, how my fists clenched, and still admittedly do, just to hear his damned voice - so heavy with judgement and ignorance, it was dripping with it. And those eyes. They looked so damn sophisticated, he thought he was above the rest of us 'fools'. But I showed him in the end, by God, I showed him. I'm sure even he has to admit now that, I was rather impressive, to say the least.
And the 'artist', so strikingly opposite to me. It was a shock to see somebody other than myself so dedicated to the arts, that I still had to retain a certain amount of respect or him, even if his goals weren't what I would consider truly artistic. He could never truly understand my art, calling them 'silly pyrotechnics' and always acting like he was superior - above me. A lot of people did that. I believe that's where the nickname 'master' came from. It was not out of respect, but simply sarcasm. An act of bitterness.
Of course, we had moments where we could synchronise in complete and utter harmony. We were both artists, after all, so despite our differences in opinions we could still manage to understand the thought process of the other. These are the moments, where I truly felt grateful for having him there - surely, without that small notice of acknowledgement, as mocking as it was, I would have gone insane. He was bitter, he was full of resentment as was I though he did a brilliant job at hiding that, and he was passionate - believing everything he did was always for the same purpose.
Who else was I supposed to fall in love with?
Obviously, as I have said time and time over, true art is fleeting - and all good things must come to an end eventually. It was still a shock that his end had to come so soon. I knew that his end was uncontrollable, that we all have to stop ticking and run out one way or another, but for the one so obsessed with longevity and eternity to die so easily? It was almost an act of betrayal against me, aswell as his art. How dare he make me believe that I could find a familiar soul in him, only to betray his own morals so easily.
But I was simply grieving, for I could never say that I despised him - I just wanted an outlet, something to be angry at. I wanted to lash out onto the world at that moment, far more than I had ever longed before.
And as time went on, he was replaced - by an idiot, of all people - and time went by, and though I never forgot, I stopped crying at night when I reached over to him only to feel an empty space. I never stopped thinking of him, but I only thought of him in fondness. And with pride, as he would have wanted me to remember. 'Pity is wasted on me,' he would have said, 'Just another reminder of how pathetic humanity can truly be.'
I would have laughed just now - I can remember exactly how he'd say it. Voice as inflated as his ego. I can remember the exact tone, and where he'd pronounce certain words with more emphasis than others.
His replacement was nothing to brag about - I dare not call him my partner, only one person could ever have earned that title. Simply a pest, I believe, a waste of a shinobi. Everything he did set me on edge. It was a deliberate act to test me, I think. Or to torture me, to ridicule me. Whatever reason they had for putting me with him, I have no idea, but I despised this organization even more than I had before.
Alas, to rephrase myself yet again, all good things must come to an end eventually. And I dare say, I went out with a bang - quite literally. If nothing else, I made people take notice of me, though I doubt they ever truly understood the significance of it. Ignorance, sheer ignorance. I was almost glad to be away from it all.
I might have even been alive at this very moment, if it weren't for a certain somebody.
He was just like his brother, maybe even worse. Eyes so full of mocking, and arrogance, it made me feel physically sick to my stomach. All I regret, is that the one I hated the most, was not there to witness how I killed him.
However, I didn't go out like some snuffed candle, oh no. I made sure to leave my mark on this bitter chunk of rock of a planet. One that they will never forget, not in a lifetime. I'm sure it will be remembered for generations - a true act of artistry, to the finest point of meticulous detail. Of course, they won't remember it quite like that, but I'll be remembered. That's the important part.
So, what was I in the end?
A traitor? Harsh, but maybe. A criminal? I broke the law countless times, but that didn't bother me. A villain? Depends on how you look at the picture as a whole, I guess.
But maybe, just maybe, my purpose had been fulfilled after all - which means that my existence wasn't quite so meaningless.
A/N: Good, bad, terrible? Hm, it's up to you. I'm tired right now so mistakes will be fixed at a later date. As for now, thank you for reading!