If anyone had said to me in the beginning of my life that I would grow up to be a cow that knew more than he needed to know, I would have said the only appropriate thing that I could come up with. "Moo." It is the language of the cow. It is the only aspect of my life that never changes, and it is the one thing that I have more than anything else that is within my soul and heart. "Moo."

Funny, how you can awaken one morning to find yourself in a situation that never had been gone through by any other cow on this planet.

There was I, by the side of my favorite patch of grass. The sun was shining in the east, as it always does. My head bent, I lazily tongued the grass, the tangy, almost sweet flavor hitting my lips as it does every morning. My mouth chomped upon the sweetest of the blades, and I chewed, thoughtfully, mechanically. I would swallow, and perhaps bring it up and chew a second time, to take the entire flavor out of this particular batch of delicacy.

As is custom to a cow, I wandered about the pasture. If I wanted to poop, I pooped. If I felt like mooing, I would moo. I tipped my head to the other cows. They were content in their ways. It was a good time to be a cow. Soon, the farmer would come out, give me a brush, tell me I was a good cow, and then go on about his day. He was a good man. One of the only men I have ever met. I have seen others, not so good as he is. They came and took away my compatriots. I don't understand the human philosophy of war. War is unknown to animals. We kill when we are hungry or threatened, and we leave everything alone when we are not. As a cow, I need not kill. I merely eat grass, and it grows once again for me to eat it. It is a good life, the life of a cow.

Suddenly, from across the pasture, even from behind a clump of a bush, I spotted something that I had never seen. I spotted something interesting, even to a cow. Quickly, I made my way over before the others noticed. I wanted to be first to examine this interesting thing that had made its way into my pasture.

I bent my head over to examine this thing. The outcrop was shaped like grass. Blades reached to the sky, and they had a quiet sheen over them as though they were sprayed with glass, like a window. But, more amazing than this was the fact that what I was staring at…was yellow! Never in my days on this pasture had I ever seen something the color that this grass was.

Could it be that this was sickly grass? Could it be the start of a deadly grass disease? Or was it the tastiest grass on earth, and it grew only in this one, small patch? I couldn't say for sure. All I could tell was the scent of dirt and earth. I nuzzled the growing thing in front of me. It was soft, plump, like the first sprigs of a bush in spring. I sniffed appreciatively at it. After one more nuzzle, I bent low. I had to taste this new species, to see if it was edible. I had to know its flavor.

My mouth opened, engulfing a small amount. I chewed, my teeth going to work. Suddenly, the ground gave a tremendous heave, and this scream erupted from it, such as I had never known. I backed off, to give this yellow abomination some space. In front of me, a man emerged from the ground, shaking dirt and rock from his clothing as he pulled himself from the hole. I blinked in amazement. Men were growing like weeds now. What will they think of next?

Deidara's Story: Clay Hearts Molded

Chapter 11: Save Shizune! Explosion of the Heart!

Heaving a sigh, Deidara pulled himself to the edge of the small crater he had made. His hand immediately went to his head, to feel where the bovine had stripped him of a small portion of his locks. He grimaced. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that I lost only some hair, un." Turning to the cow, he smiled, waving a hand. "Thanks! I had fallen asleep, and you seem to have woken me up. Sorry about not being something tastier, un."

The cow blinked lazily at him, giving him a curt moo before turning to find other, tastier venues of food. Deidara gave a small chuckle before collapsing on his back. "Yeah, I know how you feel, un."

"Oy! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" A human voice giving vent to frustration brought him out of his momentary lull. Straightening, Deidara was staring straight into the deadly blade of a scythe being held not three inches from his eye. Blinking, he looked up, at the farmer clad in overalls and a straw hat. "Stranger, I don't know how you got to be here, but I'm gonna give you the count of three to come up with a really good explanation before this here scythe is straight in your skull. One…two…"

"I'm a shinobi of Iwa, un," Deidara said, feeling his chakra reserves. He had very little to spare. It had taken all of his chakra and strength to create a replacement jutsu and a small chakra shield of his own. Whoever had trapped him within the confines of that blue chakra shield, they had known what they were doing. They were pros…

"Iwa, huh?" The farmer started. Lifting the scythe, he stroked his chin. "Couple fella's from Iwa came to my farm not more than three months back. Took my best livestock and my son, to fight a war they said. I don't know nothin' about no wars, but I do know that my son was my only chance at keeping this farm going after I'm gone. I don't know if he's alive or dead now, and I feel that I won't ever know. So, stranger, I'm going to let you try again. Lie to me this time, but you better make it good."

Deidara didn't even waste words. As quickly as the man's sentence ended, Deidara was up on his feet, kunai in hand. Two swipes and the scythe fell to the ground. Another quick motion, and Deidara was quickly behind and to the right, kunai at the man's throat. "Listen…I don't want to hurt you. I don't know anything about a war. Iwa is at peace, and has been, for years now. If someone from Iwa used a war for gain, than they shall be punished, un. But for now, I don't want trouble, and a scythe in my face really pisses me off, un."

The farmer gulped audibly as Deidara relaxed his pose, allowing the farmer to saunter away. Taking a breath, the farmer eyed Deidara up and down. "Well, I suppose if you were here to kill me, you would have done it. Obviously, you're a shinobi. No one without shinobi trainin' would have moved that fast." Reaching down, he picked up his scythe. "Reckon you best come on up to the house. Wife will have somethin' to eat I'm sure. She's a good cook. Probably chicken." The farmer turned, heading in the opposite direction of the road. Deidara glanced up the forlorn little dirt path to where a manor loomed in the distance. "Well, you comin' shinobi?" At the farmer's inquiry, Deidara nodded to the wind, walking behind the older man to where a small farmhouse loomed in the distance.

The farmhouse was small and cheerful. Small family heirlooms sat on the mantle and on the tables, and small candles and lamps created a cheery air. Sitting at the main dining table, Deidara felt out of place in the small dwelling. He was used to the Kage-Tower, and all the fineries that went with it. This was…plain. Ordinary. Not what an artist of his caliber would be living in at all.

The farmer sat opposite, eying him as Deidara's gaze roved about. "I can tell that you feel a little…misplaced there, shinobi. Tell me, how'd you end up in my cow field, huh?"

Deidara smiled, chuckling slightly as he turned to meet the man's gaze. "I was attacked on the road, a clever trap, un?"

"Oh?" The farmer's wife exclaimed, sitting down a large dish of roast chicken and tubers as she sat. "Did you get hurt at all?"

Deidara shook his head at the inquiry. "No. It was close. I've always had very good instincts and reflexes, un. I was able to create a mimic of myself, and I used a ground technique to get away at the last moment. Fortunately, whoever created the shield around me used a weaker shield at the base, un." He sniffed. "It was difficult, but I broke through it. I'm sorry that I ended up in your pasture. I meant no harm."

The farmer eyed him carefully, before breaking out in raucous laughter. "Bwahahaha! I like you, shinobi. Here, have some food. You're young. Young'uns are always hungry." The kindly old man pushed the food close, and Deidara pounced, heaping his plate high and tucking in. The food was simple, but delicious, and nourishing.

As the plate of food quickly sank, the farmer's wife tutted under her breath. "You poor thing. You must have been starving. Well, you just eat your fill."

Deidara mumbled hasty thanks as he continued to devour the meal. But a moment passed, and the meal was gone, Deidara belching slightly and pardoning himself. The old farmer laughed. "No need to apologize. That's just nature's way of saying that the meal was delicious…if I had eaten any, I'm sure I would agree. Now now, no need to apologize for that either. Tell me, shinobi. What will you do now?"

Deidara sighed, staring hard at the empty plate in front of him. "The lord of the manor down the road. I mean to go to his palace…and I'm going to kill him."

"You mean Lord Setama?" The farmer's wife stood up, staring levelly at Deidara. "That monster has taxed us all near to death. I have no love for that man."

"Aye," the old farmer agreed, sitting back in his chair. He took a small pipe from his pocket, talking as he lit up. "He's been nothing but trouble these past ten years or so. To see him go would be happiness on the land."

Deidara heard all, and more. He could see the pain in their eyes, and feel their emotion as a bitter taste in his own mouth. The wife sniffed at a handkerchief, turning her back. "Took all we had, he did. Nothing left. Nothing now…"

"You have your lives," Deidara said, standing. "Thank you for the meal. Nothing warms the heart more than the kindness of another." He gave them both a deep bow. "Do not worry, I will stop Setama and bring this all to an end, un?"

A bag was suddenly thrown onto the table. Eying it, Deidara poked it suspiciously. The farmer smiled to himself. "Figured you had nothing on you, stranger. Take this. It isn't much, you understand, but it's all we have left. I dunno why I'm giving it to you, and I reckon I'll never understand. But something about you seems…trustworthy. So, take it and use it to your good health."

Deidara opened the small purse, woven with red and gold thread in the form of a raven, and a cacophony of coins fell out. He blinked at the small mound of money on the table, and he sniffed. Quickly, he collected the coinage, stuffing it back into the pouch. Turning, he went to the door, wiping his eyes as inconspicuously as possible.

The farmer started from his chair. "Stranger, take care. Don't die, please…"

"My name isn't stranger," the blonde returned. He opened the portal to the outside, where the sun was beginning to go down behind the Western Hills. "My name is Deidara, from Iwagakure, and I will have my revenge…"

The aforementioned Lord was busy in his own chambers, primping, flossing, brushing, and primping some more. The ceremony had to go off without a hitch. The nuptials had to look as legitimate as possible. Otherwise, his wouldn't be the supreme word, and he would have no heir to carry on his legacy.

"Setama-sama! Your bride to be is waiting for you down stairs. Shall I begin the ceremony?" His lieutenant was a good, honest soldier. Hopefully, he would stay that way…if he knew what was good for him.

Lord Setama sighed, turning from the full-length mirror he was involved with and staring at the Lieutenant with a keen eye. The man was dressed in a formal tuxedo and tie, though his military training gleamed through the disguise. Setama smiled to himself. "Yes, my Lieutenant. Let us proceed. Is everything in order, then?"

"Yes, my lord. The bride is ready, the priest from the Land of Fire is attending and at the altar. The guests from the surrounding countryside are here, and your soldiers are watching from the wings."

The man nodded. The priest from the Fire Country would add to the legitimacy. With that little action, another country would recognize him as a leader and ruler. "And the shinobi?" Lord Setama asked, with a slight hesitation. He needed things perfect, and the Red Hand dogs would interfere with that perfection.

"They have been told to retreat for now. They shall have no presence here," his Lieutenant said, with a smile.

Lord Setama smiled, nodding to himself once more. "Excellent. Well, my Lieutenant, shall we go down and join the guests for the party? After all, I AM the main event, so to speak." He made a guttural laugh deep in his throat as he and his soldier left the room, shutting the door loudly.

As silent as a wraith, a black shadow dripped from the ceiling and onto the floor, coalescing into a man's form. Slowly, Meechi picked his way through the room. With the bumbling idiot downstairs, he could go through the man's personal area in private, taking as much time as he wanted to nitpick everything with a fine-tooth comb.

Turning over furniture and then righting it once more so as not to be detected later, Meechi made quick work of the room and its belongings. Standing straight, the Red Hand shinobi sighed. "Nothing. Not a trace of a gold piece or a sign of any money. This man has less net-worth than most peasants do…"

Another black shadow floated in, this time materializing near to the short man. "Meechi-san, why do you do zees, yes? You must…"

"Stop using the accent, Lang. For the last time, you were born in the Land of Rice, same as I. I don't talk like that, and neither should you. Now…what is it you were going to tell me?"

The sneer and leer on the woman's face would have made a lesser man faint, but seeing as how Meechi was the leader of the group, Lang merely huffed her displeasure. "There's nothing here at all, Meechi. Nothing! This man is penniless. I don't even know how he can afford to feed his troops, much less keep this estate running."

Meechi nodded, taking another glance about the room. "I would think that someone of his stature would have money around this place somewhere. I don't know how he could keep a manor running without some sort of…"

"Meechi-san!" Lang's voice had suddenly reached a peak level of excitement. The short man quickly crossed the room, walking to the woman and what she held. "See? A key!" Indeed, it was a key. A smallish key. Bronze, hardly worth a second thought.

Meechi snorted. "So? I saw that key too, Lang. It's nothing. There is no safe here. There is no locked door that we haven't already looked in. It's nothing!"

Lang smiled. "Ah, but Meechi-san. What is a key but a implement to open a door?"

The man sighed at his lieutenant. "A key opens a door or a lock, Lang. It doesn't do anything else."

Suddenly, Lang began a small jig of triumph. "Oh Meechi-san, sometimes you're too stupid for your own good." She turned the key over, revealing a small piece of paper. "The stupid fool keeps a piece of paper on the other side of the key. Now, why do you think that is?"

Not taking time to answer, Meechi snatched the piece of paper from the key, unrolling the small bundle and glaring at the piece of paper with a new-found contempt. "It's blank, Lang. Blank! You idiot! It's nothing but a worthless…"

"What does the stone country produce, Meechi-san?" Lang asked, turning and snuffing one of the candles glowing brightly in the room. It went out with a hiss.

"Copper…" he began.

"And?" Another candle sizzled.

"Tin, iron, and some clay products once in a while. Sometimes the occasional gem…"

Lang smiled. She walked to the last candle. "You're missing one thing, Meechi."

Meechi sighed. "Ok, please. Tell me what I'm missing, Lang."

Lang tittered, holding the last candle in her hands. "Phosphorescent stone, Meechi! Things that glow by night, things that you can use to light a path, to light your home, or…" With a flourish, she blew out the candle. From the other side of the room, a greenish glow issued forth. Meechi gasped, studying the paper.

The man smiled, chuckling low. Looking up at Lang crossing the room to be at his side, he pocketed the key. "You were always the smartest of us all, Lang."

"Thank you, Meechi-san," Lang said, bowing at the compliment.

The short shinobi threw his cloak on, taking the mini-map which glowed brightly in his hand in the darkness of the room, and giving his partner a smile. "Go ahead, Lang. Say it."

The woman smiled back. "Vee shall be reech, yesss? So very reech!"

From outside the complex, the Red Hand thugs could hear the going's on inside the manor. One of them, a burly man with a long scar across his face, sneered. "Stupid idiots. Havin' their liddle party, eh? We'll show them. Hahaha!"

Another, a stocky man with a long arm-reach and black jacket, merely sighed. "We're waiting for the signal, you dolt. Let's just wait for it." Around the camp, the other men nodded, polishing weapons and creating hand-signs. Creatures began sprouting about. Large lizards, a mouse, a couple of crocodiles. One man summoned a large hermit crab, which quickly snatched him up and stuck him in a small side-pocket of its shell.

With creatures created for the purpose, and weapons honed to deadly points, the Red Hand began the short trek to the outer wall of the mansion. Not a one of them noticed that they were one man short.

Wiping his kunai against the man's chest, Deidara glared at the back of the band as they left the clearing. "So stupid to leave your back turned." He had quickly surmised from the conversation that the whole thing was a trap within a trap. Setama had sought to kill him, and in turn, the Red Hand sought to take his holding from him. With this many Red Hand shinobi, it would be tough to gain access to the manor.

The blond smiled, fingering his kunai. "I guess I'll just have to kill them all then, yeah?"

Inside the courtyard, the guests were lined up in the make-shift aisles. Setama stood at the front next to a short man in a robe holding a large book. He smiled as the music began, signaling Shizune to step forward.

The brunette began her saunter out of the manor, taking a few steps into a waning sunlight. Next to her, Lang smiled, holding her arm as if walking her out herself. Through the corner of her mouth, she hissed, "remember, girly. You weel curtsy sooo neecly, yeess? You weel say 'I do' at thee correct time, and you weel keess your hus-band wheen you must. Orrr…" A kunai poked her back dangerously, and Shizune winced.

Before the other nobles had arrived, she had been made the guest of honor at the killing of the guards that had come with her. One by one, they had been stripped bare of their clothes, kicked to the ground, and made into target practice by Setama's own men. Lang had been there as well, that wicked smile plastered on her face. The men pleaded for them to stop, and Shizune was forced to watch as they were slaughtered mercilessly. Now, her entire family was in jeopardy. Setama had promised to eradicate them from the face of the earth if she didn't go through with this farce of a wedding.

Gulping, she continued to smile, her face a mask of radiance. Inside, her stomach heaved, and it was all she could do to force herself not to vomit on the spot. In front of her, Setama beamed. This was his day, after all. Not one person would dare to interrupt his day!

As Shizune reached the altar, Setama grabbed her by the arm, forcing her next to him. "You look radiant, my beautiful."

Shizune nodded thanks, wishing she could just stab the man in the throat. Turning to the front, the priest issued an all-quiet order, and began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to…"

"Blah blah blah, priesty. Can we get on with it?" Lang said, her mouth wording 'or else' directly after. The priest gulped, flipping through the pages.

Finding one that suited him, he nodded. "Right. Right…Do you, Lord Setama-sama, take Shizune-hime to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have, to hold…"

"Yes, I do."

The priest blinked. "I wasn't finished. I need to finish. This part is very important…"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Meechi said, appearing suddenly in a puff of smoke. "We have what we came for." With a swift upward thrust, he ran the man through with a small sword, kicking the old priest off and watching him crash to the ground. The guests gasped at the sudden outburst and killing, some screaming in panic.

Setama glared. "What in Kami's name do you think you are doing? We had a deal!"

Meechi chuckled, holding the sword point to Setama's chest. "Deal's off. This is Red Hand territory now."

Behind him, Lang scaled the wall of the manor as only a shinobi can, seemingly running vertically up the smooth brick. Landing on the rampart, she threw kunai at the two guards who were taken unaware, delighting in the spray of blood as the two crumpled to the stones. Standing, she released her smoke bombs, watching the blue tendrils lick the air as they began to spiral upwards. "So eet begeens, yes?"

On the ground, the Red Hand shinobi smiled. The tall one with the scar pounded his fist together. "Alright boys! That's the signal! Let's go!" With cheers and howls, the Red Hand army scaled the walls, jumping to the top. From both sides, guards rushed in, wielding spears and swords, small knives and bolo's. The Red Hand were not top-notch shinobi, but even slightly skilled opponents with shinobi training and jutsu's were more than a match for trained soldiers with weapons.

As the guards fought on the ramparts, more guards rushed in from the manor, being met by Red Hand shinobi within the grounds. In all the confusion, Setama grabbed at Shizune's arm, rushing her into the manor. Behind him, three guards shut the door, bolting it. "That won't hold long," Setama yelled, turning to the manor proper. "Panic room, basement floor. Let's go." The three soldiers saluted, marching swiftly after Setama's fleeing floor, Shizune gasping for breath at the rate they were fleeing.

Outside, the green grass was bathed in blood. A few shinobi had been taken down by thrown spears and shot by arrows. The toll on the side of the guards was staggering. The remainder of the guards knew they were not fighting for profit anymore. They were fighting for their very lives! The shinobi crowded the men back into a corner, forcing many to retreat into the barracks and inner-sanctum of the manor. In small groups the guards were fighting the shinobi in hand-to-hand combat, but around the area, low-level jutsu's were being used.

Suddenly, as the guards fought against incredible odds, their Lieutenant stepped out into the field. The man, his moustache brimming with anger, took his sword from its sheath, stepping forward and dealing a shinobi a deadly stab to the sternum. Another Red Hand soldier turned, making hand-signs. "You're dead!"

The Lieutenant laughed. His left hand went to his chest, and his right went to his side, sword extended. A good forty feet lay between the two, and the shinobi smiled as he completed his jutsu. "Katon: Kyuufunka no jutsu!" A small stream of fire erupted from the ground, growing in magnitude until it rose far above both men's heads. The top of the stream arced, circling back around and slamming into the Lieutenant with the force of a truck. The shinobi smiled, clapping his hands as the technique ended and all that was left was a small patch of scorched earth.

"Thinking you have won before being certain is a costly mistake…" a voice from behind him said. The Red Hand shinobi turned, but too late. The Lieutenant's right hand came around in a steady arc, slicing the shinobi's head from his body. Following the swing, his left hand still at his chest, he smiled. "Kamisorikiri!" As the sword continued the follow through, a mighty wind cleft from it, speeding towards a group of shinobi who had just popped over the wall.

Their cries mingled with gurgles as the wind slashed through them. In less than an instant, it was over. Slowly, the men crumpled to their knees, and as geysers of crimson erupted from numerous cuts on their bodies, the men lay on the blood-soaked earth, eyes clouding over. The Lieutenant smiled to himself. Chakra erupted from his feet as he launched himself bodily at another small group of Red Hand shinobi. "You will all die!"

Deidara watched from the wall as the two groups raged on. He snorted. "Well, it saves me from having to fight all of them, yeah?" he said under his breath. A hand grasped his shoulder and twisted him about. A large man with a scimitar glared at him, and in the moment, Deidara had been caught off-guard. The scimitar crashed down, and Deidara had no time to react…as the man screamed and toppled over the edge of the buttress. Blinking, Deidara took a quick look to the right, where a woman smiled at him, winking.

"Deidara. Long time no see. How you doing?"

The blond smiled, sighing with relief. "Eesama-chan. I'm glad to see you, yeah?"

"What the hell have you been up to, Deidara!? It's a blood bath down there!" A large man appeared on his right, scanning the ground.

Deidara nodded. "Hai, Hiran. It is. I believe that the Red Hand decided to crash this party, un."

"Hai," said another shinobi, who approached the ledge to gaze down at the courtyard. "A lot of Lord's have lost their lives already." The man's wooden fingers ticked nervously against his thigh.

"Deko…" Deidara grimaced at the wooden clicking sounds. It always reminded him of Bushio.

Eesama sighed. "Well, what do we do?"

"We don't do anything," Deidara said matter-of-factly, standing up and brushing himself off. "I was going to kill all of these bastards anyway. Turns out that they are doing me a favor."

"Deidara! Listen to yourself!" Deko shouted in his face, grabbing his shoulder and punctuating each word with a shake. "These are people! They aren't animals!" He released the blond, backing up a foot or two and taking a deep breath. "Besides, you're supposed to be protecting the wedding party."

"I don't have time to explain…" Deidara began, taking a kunai and a small ball of clay from his pocket. "Just know that I'm sorry. I can't be bothered by this right now. I have one duty, and it's to get to Shizune-hime and make sure she's safe."

Eesama smiled, almost chuckling, and gave the man's shoulder a squeeze. "She must mean a good deal to you."

Deidara didn't answer, merely shrugged the hand off. "It's personal, un?"

Eesama made an 'I-give-up' gesture, taking a few steps back herself. "Whatever, Deidara."

"That still doesn't solve this crisis," Deko reinstated, turning back to the courtyard full of death and mayhem. Eesama came to stand next to him, as did Hiran.

"Those shinobi are Red Hand, un? Seems to me that they are the enemy here." Deidara had walked a few steps to the right, gazing down at the door to the manor. His right hand flashed, sending a clay creation flying. "I'm going after Setama. He's mine!" He didn't give an explanation, merely jumped over the side of the wall. The distance may have been well over 5 stories, but he landed with the grace of a crane, taking off from his point of contact as his clay pigeon smashed into the door, exploding it into bits and opening a portal into the manor.

Half a field away from the open door, however, the young Lieutenant stepped in his way. His sword flashed in the failing light, and he smiled. "You go no farther, shinobi." He made a swish as four other guards fell into place behind him. "You should have stayed dead!" Deidara grimaced as his hand strove for more clay.

"Deidara!" Deko suddenly appeared behind him, his hands at his sides. "I have no idea why we're fighting these men as well. But you've never been one to go wrong. I'm with you. We're with you. Now go. I've got these guys." Another set of wooden hands came forth from the joint where his elbow would have been. These twisted around, a long blade jutting from each appendage. His arms were now half again as long, a clear fourth nothing but slashing, cutting, dangerous looking metal.

The Lieutenant smiled even wider. "You both are going to die! Men! Fan out and kill them both!" He chuckled as his men widened out, encircling the two shinobi. Deidara thought for a moment about staying to help Deko when the other man pushed at him.

"I said get going, Deidara! Now!"

It was all the encouragement he needed. Taking a quick feint to the right, Deidara dodged to the left. Deko countered a soldier's spear with his longsword, cleaving the man's face in two as he parried another. A trapdoor in his chest opened, firing senbon at the Lieutenant, who expertly deflected them all. However, the lull in his concentration allowed Deidara to slip by, and he sprinted across the remaining distance, bolting through the doorframe and down into the manor.

The Lieutenant sneered at the shinobi in front of him, and Deko returned with a smirk. The mustachioed man saluted with his sword, and as Deko did the same with his, he snorted. "I salute the man who is about to die here."

Deko winked. "Same to you, buddy."

But Deidara could think of nothing else. His friends from Iwagakure could handle themselves. He had to find Shizune-hime at all costs. Before it was too late!

Next Time: As the war rages outside, Deidara slips through the manor, his mind on Shizune. However, the Red Hand shinobi have no intention on letting him do as he wants. He finds that he'll have to fight his way into the manor, one room at a time.

Next Chapter: Deidara Vs. Lang!

A/N: Sorry for the long wait time on the chapters. This one took a while, and I've been typing slowly on and on. Again, sorry for the delay yall. My other stories are pretty much on hold now, as well.

Katon: Kyuufunka no jutsu – Fire Style: Sudden Eruption Technique

Kamisorikiri: Razor Slice