Author's note: look, complete fluff! well, sort of. this was inspired by the story "Kohona Academy" by its-dei-chan-un. i recomend this very entertaining story to anyone who's interested in au naruto stories.
this story is dedicated to thesepeopleareus, just to prove to her that i can write subtle things without any dialog. hope you appreciate it erin!
Disclaimer: if it was mine, do you think it would be called Naruto? certainly not. it would be called "Sasori" instead.
--kyra
If there was one thing Deidara and Sasori disagreed on, it was art. Sure, they both considered themselves artists, but that was all. Their respective forms of art had nothing else in common. Sasori's art was eternal, carefully sculpted into shapes that would never disintegrate or decay. Deidara's was the essence of ephemeral, more so even than sand castles or ice sculptures. The art was in the explosion, in achieving the perfect blast time and time again. Art was in the sculptures that imploded, that exploded, that spontaneously combusted… art was in the temporary, in the fleeting moment of perfection.
Sasori couldn't understand that. To him, Deidara's explosions were nothing more than tools, things to get the job done, not things to be admired in their own right. Neither understood the other, and if they argued, it was usually on the subject of art. The rest of the members got tired of the argument, but, as Konan pointed out, it was better that they argue about art than about life. Hearing Deidara and Sasori discuss life was not something people usually suffered through more than once.
On this occasion, it was no different. Deidara's bomb had gone off perfectly, obliterating the target in a matter of mere seconds, leaving the burning wreckage scattered across the ground. Everything was perfect and, in the split second of the zenith of the explosion, Deidara had been in artistic nirvana. He babbled about the perfection of the moment continuously, to the irritation of all the other Akatsuki, especially Sasori. Finally, the redhead, tired of listening to Deidara's gushing, shut him up with talk about his own art. Round and round the two went, one brandishing the perfection of the fleeting, the other that of the permanent. Finally, in an effort to shut them up, Sir Leader sent them outside, declaring a contest to see whose art was best. There would be, he warned, no sore losers. The two, both certain that their art would win, agreed, and the contest was scheduled to begin in three days.
Both of them worked feverishly for those three days, Sasori on a puppet more perfect and long-lasting than any before, Deidara on a bomb designed to explode with the maximum amount of power and heat. When the appointed day finally rolled around, the rest of Akatsuki came out to view what the two feuding artists had produced.
Sasori's puppet was much admired. Sir Leader even ordered Sasori to keep it for future use, something Sasori agreed to very readily. His eyes were triumphant; there was no way Deidara could produce something so good. But Deidara didn't seem worried, despite the fact that his own art was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Kisame posed the obvious question. Where was Deidara's contribution? At that, Deidara grinned his merry grin, drew out his bomb, and launched it with perfect aim onto Sasori's puppet.
Later, when the smoke had cleared and all that remained was the wreckage of Sasori's creation, everyone agreed that the true art of the day had been the look on Sasori's face as his partner destroyed his art, and the wink Deidara threw at him as they surveyed the smoldering remains. And, in Sir Leader's verdict, he proclaimed that art was in the eye of the beholder, and that the two were to please contain any flirting to their respective rooms. Deidara's face at those words marked the last of the true art of the day.