I am so sorry I havn't updated for a while. Writers block is a terrible thing. So here is the next chapter (I rushed on it so it's not that great). Enjoy!
Characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Ideas belong to me.
"Are you ready to go?" Sasori asked Deidara as they stood a few feet outside of the town entrance. A cool spring breeze played through the air. "Yeah . . . un," he replied, his mind elsewhere. It was early in the morning, around 5 o'clock, and still dark. They wanted to depart with out any one knowing. "Alright, let's go then." Sasori was eager to set off.
They walked away from the town; from civilization; and the comfort of knowing there was protection. But Deidara knew he had someone now. Someone who would help him through the hard times . . . like those he used to know. It had been a week since he had met Sasori. He had found out a lot about him; but there was something he knew he was hiding. Deidara had told Sasori about his child hood and how he had lived in a homemade shelter for six years after his home had been destroyed. Sasori listened to him, and then told Deidara about his life when he was finished.
He had been a traveler before, but had stopped a few years ago. He wouldn't tell Deidara why, just that something bad had happened. When he was growing up he had lived in Sunagakure. "That's cool . . . un," Deidara stated when Sasori told him that.
They fell silent after a while. Deidara looked around at the land they were going through. It was nice and quiet. No one else was around. A light mist had gathered on the ground, hindering their visibility a little bit. As the sun finally started to rise in the East, a small range of mountains could be seen. The light brought out the muddy-red color of the stones. "What a wonderful work of art . . . un," Deidara sighed contentedly. Sasori averted his gaze from the path to the sunrise. "It is. But it only lasts for a few minutes. True art lasts forever." The blonde whipped his head around. "What are you talking about? Art is something that is fleeting. A beautiful display that dazzles the eye and is gone in the next second . . . un!" Sasori glared at him, his pale red eyes shimmering angrily. "You call that art? What's the point of killing something right when it's born? Like I said, true art is eternal. It never fades or rots." Deidara crossed his arms across his chest. "What ever . . . un."
They continued to walk; both slightly annoyed with the other. 'Well that was a great way to start,' Sasori thought to himself. A quiet voice reached his ears. "Sorry . . . un," Glancing at his traveling partner, Sasori smiled. "Why are you apologizing Deidara? You didn't do anything wrong." Deidara hesitated, "I apologized because I don't want one argument to make us mad at each other. Especially since we just started our journey . . . un."
Sasori said nothing, and Deidara knew he was fine with his explanation. "Sasori . . . un?" Deidara asked. "What?"
"What kind of art do you like . . . un?" he was curious to know. "I'm not going to tell you now, but you will find out in all in good time." Deidara hated it how Sasori was so mysterious. He just wanted to learn more about him. But he accepted the answer and stayed silent.