My Self Allocated Drabble Challenge:
Pondering
He had hated him.
He had hated him so much.
He had hated him to a degree words couldn't ever describe the loathing.
The brat should be honoured- his last moments had been beautiful, and he had died artistically, with the creator himself. He even didn't know why he had bothered to show his ultimate technique- the most beautiful artistic display possible- to that disrespectful arrogant Uchiha pest (who he, even though dead, despised with every fibre of his being). Maybe because he had just wanted to kill him, and get revenge. Maybe because he wanted to show him, to prove him wrong.
But, why did he even care what the Uchiha thought? Deidara frowned, if that was possible, as all that was left of the ex-Akatsuki member was a soul.
Uchiha.
The word alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. All four of them. Deidara idly wondered how the young Uchiha must have felt, to be defeated so awesomely. He remembered that widening on eyes, the fear flickering in them, his mouth opening in shock and terror.
I wonder how many people have seen that terror on a Uchiha's face, hmm? How many people have had the opportunity to witness that fear, to be able to feel that superiority, to kill a Uchiha. To destroy another Sharingan.
No... Not just another Sharingan- the last Sharingan. The 'last' Uchiha.
Deidara scoffed. Obviously, Konoha shinobi lacked the basic skill called 'counting'. There's a difference between the numbers one and two- unfortunately, Leaf ninja were unable to comprehend that due to their thick skulls and pitiful education.
Ever since he had joined the Akatsuki, Deidara had dreamt how it would feel to kill Itachi. He imagined Itachi begging, down on his knees, for Deidara's mercy. Then, Deidara would say something cool, like, "You've always considered yourself so much better, haven't you? So much better than me, than everyone else. Well, U-chi-ha," Deidara would draw out the syllables, punctuating each one with a jab, "I'm going to kill you. Go rot in hell."
So that's why, even though never given the opportunity to kill the raven himself, it didn't feel as good as he thought it would be. Maybe, he hadn't hated Itachi as much as he thought he had.
No.
No.
He had hated Itachi- and still did. Oh, what he would give to have a chance, no matter how small, to kill the bastard, or his sibling.
Maybe, maybe it didn't feel quite as amazing because it was Itachi's little brother. Yes, that must be it. Yet, Deidara couldn't help but feel a thread of guilt, worming its way into his literally nonexistent heart.
I suppose, Deidara concluded, it's because goes against my artistic beliefs to hate something so beautiful, so perfect, so... fleeting.
Just like Sasuke's life.
I know, this sucks. But, please review! I would really appreciate it. I might even write a sequel! Also, advice welcome. Even in the form of flames.