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Thankfully, the school year had started on a Thursday, so the much-needed weekend came quickly. Sasori was happy to finally get the chance to sleep in. Waking up before 6 in the morning was so annoying. After he decided it was a reasonable time to wake up, which to him meant 11, he got ready and drove into the city.

The city was one of his least favorite places to go, other than the high school. It was always dirty, crowded, and loud. He would get a headache just from trying to push his way through the over-packed sidewalks. But deep inside the large mess of tall, dull skyscrapers and filthy people, was one of his personal sanctuaries. There were four museums that displayed his artwork, and this one in the city was the closest to where he lived. He would put himself through the pain of navigating through the crowds just to watch people look at his art. It made him feel important.

He walked inside the large, white building and went up to the third floor where his masterpiece, Hiruko, was displayed. There was a bench about thirty feet away from the exhibit, so he sat down. It was around noon. There weren't a lot of people in the museum. He knew more people came later on, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

He sat on that bench for almost two hours. In that time, twelve people had walked through the floor. Five of the people stopped to look at his work, but it wasn't any longer than a few seconds. It didn't help Sasori's mood at all. He knew maybe today just wasn't a good day or something like that, but that didn't make him feel any less depressed. He began to feel bored and tired so he leaned back on the wall behind the bench and closed his eyes.

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He woke up when he heard the sound of sneakers hitting the floor. He lazily opened his eyes, and saw a blur of blonde hair standing in front of his creation. For one second, he was excited that someone had seemed to take an interest in his work, but then he was annoyed when he figured out who it was.

Standing in front of his work was his 'favorite' student, Deidara. The teenage appeared to be studying the piece. Sasori didn't want to believe he was though, because he thought it would be impossible for the boy to comprehend any kind of art.

Suddenly Deidara seemed to be aware of the presence of someone else in the room. He turned around and was surprised to see his art teacher sitting on the bench looking like he had just woken up.

"What are you doing here, hmmm?" Deidara asked.

Sasori glared at him, "I'm admiring art work. What are you doing?"

Deidara looked back at the display, "Same, hmmm"

Sasori scoffed, "You don't know anything about art. How could you possibly hope to appreciate it?"

Deidara didn't respond to his teacher's comments and continued to stare at the piece in front of him.

Sasori felt annoyed when Deidara ignored him like that, "Well if you're so smart, what can you tell me about this?" He said, pointing to his own creation.

"It was made by an artist called 'Sasori of the Red Sand'," Deidara said without looking up, "He is also called 'Scorpion' sometimes. He was born in a village in the desert, hmmm. His parents were murdered when he was five. After that, he moved in with his grandmother, who was a famous artist. She taught him about how to make puppets. All of his creations have earth tones to reflect his old home in the desert. This was the second piece he made, 'The Battle Puppet: Hiruko'. I like it a lot, but I've always wanted to see his first creation. He made puppets of his parents, but they were only on display for a week before he had them removed from the gallery. They were just too precious to him to be on display, hmmm. I saw a picture of them once, and I think it's his best work. You can tell his really cared about those puppets because they were the closest thing he had to his parents."

When Deidara finished talking, Sasori was speechless. He was shocked to know that this boy knew so much about his life story. Every detail he stated was exactly right. He had worked for a long time to become a famous artist, but he didn't think there was anyone out there that appreciated his work enough memorize his past.

Deidara finally turned to the teacher, a mocking grin on his face, "You know it's really lame to sit here all day watching people look at your work."

Sasori's speechless face quickly turned into a glare, "Fuck off."

Deidara laughed, "What happened to your 'no bad language' policy?"

"We aren't in school so I can curse all I want, brat," Sasori said.

Deidara smiled, "Whatever you say, hmmm."

"When did you find out who I was?" He asked.

"I kinda figured it out yesterday," Deidara said, "Most people don't make puppets. It's a very rare form of art, hmmm. So when you said that's what you do, I thought maybe you could be the famous Sasori. I came here today to look at your art again, and when I saw you on that bench, I assumed I must have been correct. Why would you sit there all day watching people look at your art?"

Sasori shrugged, "I guess when I know people do in fact care about my work, it gives me confidence to work harder. Lately I've been doubting myself a lot."

Deidara frowned, "I don't think you need to be. I maybe not agree with the philosophy behind your work, but it's some of the most beautiful art I have ever seen. You should have more faith in yourself, hmmm."

Once again, Sasori felt stunned. All he ever wanted was for people to admire his art. Deidara saw the beauty and effort he had always hoped people would appreciate. As much as he hated himself for admitting it, despising that brat was getting a lot harder.

"Anyways," Deidara said, "I'm going to look at the rest of the museum. Do you want to join me? Maybe you'll be able to teach me a few things."

Sasori tried to push back any happiness he felt from that suggestion.

"Whatever you want to do," he said causally and followed the teenager to the next floor.

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