Disclaimer: A Merry Christmas to All, and to all I don't own Naruto or World of Warcraft.

Here's the next installment of The Legend of Uzumaki Naruto!

A rush of hot air blew by Gaara's face. He stared out at the afternoon sky with his dull green eyes, bordered by vast black rings of sleeplessness, and thought. To those who knew him, it was not uncommon to find him in such a state. Ever since he had become Kazekage, nearly four months prior, after more than a year of blood and toil, he would often go out onto his balcony to think; and indeed, it was there on his balcony that he received many of his visitors. He did not get many visitors, however. Due to his reputation, no doubt, which though he had done quite a bit to rid himself of, still lingered like a rotten smell or a bloody stain. He knew that it would never fully fade, no matter what he did. But that didn't matter to him at the moment. In fact, it had become increasingly unimportant to him, as he settled into his role as Kazekage. He felt that so far he was doing an adequate job. He had already solved several economic problems: he had repealed a protective tariff that his father, the Fourth, had placed on goods specifically being imported from the local nomads (whom his father had apparently disputed with on many occasions); he had increased safety measures for merchants crossing the desert by mapping out more desirable routes, but had also increased the number of sentries along that route, to prevent enemies from taking advantage of it; and he was taking measures to slowly weed out the corruption of the bazaars in the poorer sections of the city, whereas his father had let them fester like gangrenous wounds.

His actions so far had been applauded by all sides; the people found a wider variety of goods, at cheaper prices, and that were restocked faster; the Council of Sunagakure found his methods fair and practical, for he made most decisions using an objective mind unhindered by emotions; and his closest friends and family were continually dazzled by how much he had changed.

Just four months ago, right after the Chuunin Exams, the Council had approached Gaara. They had offered him the position of Kazekage, albeit reluctantly, for after reviewing his actions in the past year, they could no longer say that someone was better. After the ceremony, Gaara had gone straight to work—not just to better the lives of his citizens, but also to help obliterate any and all myths about him.

He wanted to show them who he truly was. He wanted to show them that he deserved to be Kazekage, and that he would not fail in his duty to protect them. That was why he had sought the duty—because he felt he needed it. He needed to atone for what he had done, for the years of fear he had inflicted onto those he now considered as his loved ones, his precious people.

Baki-sensei had told him that so far, he was doing an admirable job.

Though Gaara accepted this praise, he would often wonder what Uzumaki Naruto thought.

For it was Naruto who had shown him this path; it was Naruto who had made him realize, by defeating him in battle, that there were far better things that killing and bloodlust in this world—things that he had never noticed, and yet had been always by his side. No—they were people, not things: his brother and sister, Temari and Kankuro. They were precious people, those who meant more to him than any other.

It stood to reason that he, of all people, should be able to see whether he was doing well or not. He would often wonder if he was truly gaining the respect and admiration of the people he desired it from or not. It could all be a façade, like that of Yashamaru, his murderous uncle. He did not want to think like that, however. It was a disturbing thought, one from his darker days. No, he would trust them. Naruto had shown him that people could be trusted. And he would trust them back; because that was what friends did.

He looked down on the city then. It was a bright and clear day, as hot as ever, but in his opinion it could not have been more beautiful. The sun reflected off the tanned stone of the thousands of buildings he could see below him, and the entire city looked like an oasis. The sight of the city once would have made his blood boil and his eyes narrow.

Now, it soothed his aches and warmed his heart, to see it at peace.

He wondered if that's how Uzumaki Naruto felt when he saw Konoha.

He smiled at a little, watching the city. It did not fade when he heard the light, almost silent footsteps behind him, and felt a familiar presence.

"Baki," he said, his voice still as soft as when he had returned from Konoha. Since then, nobody could ever remember Gaara raising his voice or adopting the ferocious growl he had used just before he'd kill someone.

"Kazekage-sama," the dark-skinned jounin said, bowing to the far younger man. Baki wore a standard issue Sand jounin vest, the color of sand, over a light grey jumpsuit; but to distinguish himself, he wore a hitai-ate with a veil that covered one eye, instead of the standard regulation one, which had no veil.

"How are you today?" Gaara asked, turning to look at the man, who had not risen from his bow.

It was a question that never ceased to throw Baki off—he did not ever believe he'd get used to Gaara asking him how he was. He had learned eventually to accept a simple greeting, though that had taken the better part of six months. Gaara had been asking him how he was around that same time, and ever since he had always been caught off guard by the question. For the first few months he had stuttered meaningless drivel, but now he stayed silent and thought out his response as carefully as one might formulate a plan of attack. Somewhere in his mind he realized that no matter how he responded Gaara wouldn't mind, but it had become natural for him to be wary of Gaara. He was not the only one, of course. Yura, another of Gaara's advisors, who next to Baki spent the most time with Gaara, was as frequently baffled by Gaara's attempts at small talk as Baki (it was a continuing joke among them). There were only two people (possibly four, if what Kankuro said was true) who had learned to deal with Gaara as one might a normal person. They were his brother and sister, Kankuro and Temari, and possibly two ramen chefs at a stand in the slums of the city whose names Baki did not know. He also remembered vaguely the pink-haired Leaf-nin spending some time with Gaara before he had become Kazekage, at the Chuunin Exams.

Finding no holes in his response, Baki replied as easily as possible, "I am well, Kazekage-sama. It is a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is," Gaara agreed, turning briefly away from Baki, and back to the horizon. Baki noticed the slight curvature of Gaara's lips, and felt himself beginning to smile as well. Temari had been right: though Gaara's smile was nothing like the searing grin of Uzumaki Naruto's, the boy responsible for Gaara's reformation, it was amazing in its own right; and one could not help but smile at it, especially if they had known Gaara beforehand.

"You have news?" Gaara then asked, turning his eyes as swiftly as a raptor sighting movement. Baki instinctively stiffened at the gesture, but melted a little after.

"Yes," he said. "You have visitors."

"Who?"

At this, Baki had to frown. It was not because he did not know, but it was because he was having trouble remembering how to pronounce their leader's name. It had been an odd sight to most of the staff in the Kazekage's Tower to see six men the size of toddlers walk in, covered in dust and smelling of sweat and the desert, and ask to speak with the leader of the village, as well as a boy named Sabaku no Gaara.

They had been quite surprised, obviously, to find out that they were one in the same.

"It is a group coming from the desert," Baki said. "A little man who calls himself Mekk…Mekcha…Mekkatorque leads them; he claims he is on a peacekeeping mission from Uzumaki Naruto, who has apparently returned to this world."

Gaara did not react to the news, at first glance. But Baki had known his new face long enough to notice the slight widening of the eyes, the almost parting of the mouth, and the slight upward twitching of the lips. Gaara was indeed surprised, in a good way.

"What kind of peacekeeping mission?"

"He says that he wishes to discuss that with you."

Gaara gave a soft nod. "Send them to my office, Baki. And inform Yura-san of the situation as well." He then swept past Baki before the man could blink, his blue and white robes billowing behind him.

"Of course, Kazekage-sama," he said, beginning to call his hands together and perform Shunshin no jutsu to return to the bottom floor as swiftly as possible.

"Call me Gaara, Baki. You were my teacher, it is only proper."

Baki faltered in the midst of his jutsu, looking back into the room, where Gaara was now seated as his desk. The young man had not looked at him, and was busy with some paperwork on the desk.

Baki stared at Gaara a moment, and then smiled, and even let out a small chuckle before he finished the jutsu and vanished in a whirl of sand.

"Of course, Gaara-sama."

"You're late."

Yura, jounin of the Sand, walked dazedly by the freshly slaughtered bodies of fifteen of his fellow jounin, towards the two black cloaked figures that stood before the entrance to the Sand. On both sides of him towered walls of sun-yellow stone, artificially sculpted by some of the most powerful shinobi of the past, to protect the city that lay behind them from even the greatest of attacks. Of course it didn't truly matter if they were there or not, if their enemy could attack from the inside.

Yura was a rather tall man, with a slim face bearing a small goatee and small black eyes. He wore a tan jounin vest, with a grey jumpsuit, and a standard issue Sand hitai-ate, from which a tuft of black hair shot at an angle across his right eye. He was dusty and covered in blood and gore, much of which was not his own. He let drop a kunai as he walked, drenched in blood and bearing bits of sliced bone and muscle.

Yura did not think he would be in such a situation, not before today.

He usually spent his days advising the new Kazekage—who in his personal opinion was doing quite a good job. Though originally, like many of the others, he had been skeptical of Gaara's ability—after all, he was the youngest Kage ever to have existed—he now regarded Gaara as something necessary for the village. The Yondaime Kazekage, Gaara's father, hadn't been the shining example of leadership.

Yura had been a member of the Kazekage's advising council for nearly four years, and he could honestly say that Gaara was doing far better than his father had—and he had only been in power for a few short months. He listened to advice. He used his advisors in every way possible—he trusted them with the affairs of the city to the highest degree; something that the Yondaime had not.

Perhaps, then, the Yondaime had been wiser than his son.

Yura had never intended for this to happen, to be sure. He had not even remembered such things until nearly half an hour ago, when his mind had been struck with a shocking pain. It had lasted for but a second, and after that second of thoughtless agony he had remembered.

It was a curious feeling, to suddenly realize that after supporting the Sand for many years, he would be the one to end up betraying it.

Curious indeed.

Earlier that afternoon, he had even met with the Kazekage briefly, to discuss a matter of security in the lower slums. Many merchants visiting the city were mugged or killed there, and rarely was there a shinobi around to do something about it. But Gaara had not begun their discussion the moment he had arrived. No, he had first asked how Yura's day and been. Yura's day, up until that point, had been fine. He had told Gaara so, and watched as the boy gave a small nod, and a little smile. Yura had smiled when Gaara had, for some odd reason, which he could no longer fathom. This was an almost daily ritual for them, he remembered. Ever since Gaara had been made Kazekage, and had begun spending more time with Yura, he had asked the jounin how his day had been. He never knew quite how to answer (a trait he shared with Baki). But he liked Gaara, so he answered to the best of his ability, even if it sounded strange and forced (though Gaara likely did not notice).

The discussion had gone well, and Gaara had let Yura do most of the talking regarding the plan. At the end, Gaara had agreed with Yura's proposal, though had amended it in a few ways, reducing its cost and possibly increasing its effectiveness, in a way that Yura had not thought of. He had departed feeling very good about himself. He had also departed thinking that Gaara was that much better for the Sand.

Yura did not think of himself as evil.

He knew he was a traitor; but that didn't bother him. He liked Gaara, and thought the young man an incredible benefit to the Sand; but he had no qualms in what he was going to be doing. It was an odd duality, as if somehow his conscience and feelings of righteousness had been blown out like a candle. He had served the Sand faithfully and had loved it and its people—which was odd, considering he was going to meet the men who would have it destroyed.

And even more odd, was that he didn't know quite what love meant anymore.

"Forgive me, Sasori-sama," he said, reaching the second figure—the short, horribly corpulent man dressed in black and red, whose eyes were just visible beneath the hat. They were small and cruel and shrunken, and had a strange glossy sheen to them.

The taller of the two whistled. "I didn't think he'd be so powerful, Sasori-danna. Look how many he killed…yeah!"

The fat one ignored the taller, and said to Yura, "You've done you're duty. The alarm will not be raised, I trust?"

"No," Yura said, swiftly shaking his head and bowing again. "I have removed all chances of it being raised. At this time, Kazekage-sama should be in his office."

"You still call him that?" snorted the wide one. "Even though you've betrayed him?"

"Forgive me," Yura said. "But I still have memories of the past—it is strange, I know that he will die, and I care nothing for it. Yet, I still call him Kazekage-sama. Perhaps it is habit?" He gave a little shrug, and looked away from the man, as if afraid his master would face him with angry eyes.

"Whatever," the corpulent one turned around and looked at the tall one, who was digging around inside his cloak. Yura could see, concealed just beneath the flowing black material, on the man's left side, a small white pouch. The man was digging around inside of it, and a moment later, it came out, clutching a small white lump of matter.

The man held it out in front of him, and Yura watched as it began to sink into his left hand. But that was not quite right. It was not sinking in, so much as being eaten.

For on the man's palm, there was a mouth, about the size of Yura's own; there were no lips, gleaming white teeth, and a writhing pink tongue.

Yura did not show surprise in seeing it. Why should he? One saw a lot of strange things, as a shinobi, and mouths upon someone's palms were not so strange in the grand scheme of things. Besides, he knew that as members of Akatsuki, these two were among the strongest shinobi in existence. As they were the best, they were allowed to have strange traits.

The man closed the hand a bit, and Yura heard the gnashing of teeth as the hand-mouth chewed the white substance like gum for a moment. When he next opened his palm, the white substance had returned, but it was now a perfectly sculpted figurine of a bird with folded wings and head out. It was far from life-like, possessing a particularly artificial artistic flair that resembled something drawn in a manga. But it was smooth and looked like it had taken quite a long time to create.

The man tossed it into the air, and formed a seal with his right hand.

The figuring exploded in a cloud of white smoke, which encompassed both black-cloaked men within a blink. But in the wildly unpredictable winds of the desert, it was soon blown away, revealing the taller of the Akatsuki members standing atop a much larger version of the figurine he had just created.

But this time, it moved, turning its head with the swiftness of a bird's, to look at Yura, who flinched back in surprise at the sudden movement.

The taller man had also removed his hat. Underneath was a feminine, smooth-looking face, topped by long blonde hair tied into a topknot in the back, and a long fringe that obscured his left eye. A Hidden Stone hitai-ate, marred across the middle, was tied to his head.

"Do you like it, Sand-san? This is my special art project…yeah," the man said, smirking at Yura.

"Just shut up and go, Deidara," said the fat one, in a snarl. "The sight of what you consider art bothers me quite a bit. I don't want to have to look at it longer than need be."

"Sorry, Sasori-danna…yeah," the man, Deidara, said with a cheeky smile. "Then I'll just go and fetch the Ichibi, shall I?"

"Do it, quickly."

Deidara gave a salute. "Yes sir!" The model bird that he now stood on suddenly began to flap its wings, and at once took to the air, moving so fluidly that despite its looks, it might have been a real bird. It rose high into the sky, disappearing into some clouds, but moving in the direction of the Kazekage's Tower.

'I suppose it's unfortunate,' Yura thought, as he stood next to his master. 'He is a good person, but he was unfortunate enough to have the demon Shukaku sealed into him. Perhaps he was destined to be their victim. It doesn't matter, anyways. They'll find a new Kazekage.' Oddly, Yura felt nothing for his former leader, who was going to die.

Well maybe pity, but it was a fleeting feeling and gone by the time the summoned bird was out of sight.

The room that Mekkatorque entered was large and circular, flooded with afternoon light from the great window opposite the door. Before this great window was a desk, made of a light wood and long enough to appear imposing. Sitting behind the desk in a large, red chair that only added to his importance was a very young man, perhaps Naruto's age. He had crimson red hair and pale green eyes, with dark bags beneath them to show a serious lack of sleep. But contrary to this, he appeared calm and resolute and affixed Mekkatorque with eyes showing peace. The High Tinker was heartened by this fact.

"Come in," the young man said, standing to meet the old gnome and walking around his desk in a show of politeness. Mekkatorque did so, closing the door behind and walking briskly on his tiny legs up to Gaara. He at once gave a bow, having learned it custom by Naruto to bow for greeting rather than shaking hands.

"I am High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque, King of the Gnomes."

Gaara gave a bow as well, comparatively as deep. "I am Gaara, Godaime Kazekage of the Hidden Sand." Though the word "gnome" struck him as odd, he did not comment on it.

"And friend of Uzumaki Naruto," said Mekkatorque, looking up and smiling. "I was rather surprised to hear that. I don't believe Naruto knows of your position."

"He has returned?" Gaara asked, gesturing for the gnome to sit at one of the large chairs before his desk. Mekkatorque thanked him and easily lifted himself into the seat, while Gaara took his own seat behind the desk.

"Indeed," the old gnome said, smiling heartily. "I take it then, he has not seen you?"

"No," said Gaara. "He hasn't."

"Understandable. Having returned to his world, which he has been away from for more than a year, must have been on his mind. No doubt he wanted to see his home before his friend, yes?"

Gaara stared at the gnome a moment. "We are not friends."

"Why do you say that?"

"The last time we met," said Gaara, calmly, "we were enemies."

"He seems to think differently since," said Mekkatorque. "It was, after all, he who told me of you. He called you a friend, and spoke very highly of you. Do you not think of him as a friend?"

Gaara didn't answer. It was strange conversation to begin with, and he didn't know if he could put his thoughts into words. No, when he thought about it, he didn't think of Naruto as a friend. He thought of the blonde as something more—closer perhaps—someone to be admired, to look ahead to. Naruto had made such an impact upon his life. They had not met since that time they had fought; the last image of Naruto, etched into Gaara's mind forever, was that face of his, as he crawled towards Gaara. And those eyes of his.

Eyes that Gaara wanted himself to have someday.

Eyes full of life.

Mekkatorque seemed to sense Gaara's predicament, and reacted accordingly. "But, as pleasant as talk of Naruto is, that is not the reason I came. There is something that I must explain, and it might take some time to do so. Do you have much time?"

"I have enough to hear you speak," said Gaara, giving the gnome a tiny smile.

"Excellent."

Mekkatorque's tale was not quite long, but filled to the brim with knowledge that Gaara quite needed to know. He learned of a brief history of this other world that Naruto had spent so much time in, and what its current state of affairs was. He learned of the New Alliance that Naruto had created through much blood and pain. He then learned of the portal, far to the west of the village, well out of way from any trading routes—the portal that had allowed Naruto to return, and that would allow anyone to travel to and fro between the worlds.

"While I am well aware that it is already in a place that most would not access, I would think it better for both of us if there was some sort of settlement protecting it. This would be of no cost to you, of course. I would provide materials and men, I was simply asking your permission, as it is technically within your territory. And should you decide that entering into this alliance is worth your while, it could also become the bridge of trade between the two worlds for your village. Of course, if you decide to decline, then we would not build any such settlement and when not in use, we would close the portal." He peered at Gaara cautiously. The young man had made no movement, and showed no signs of disagreement or agreement. His face was a freshly washed chalk-slate; blank of everything save the features it had come with.

"Am I to understand that Konoha will be entering into this Alliance as well?" Gaara finally asked.

"Quite possible. I know that another representative of our world, as well as Naruto, will no doubt attempt to convince the leader of that village to join. Whether she will or not, I have no idea."

Gaara nodded. "This is not a matter that I can simply choose to accept at this point. You understand that I must speak with my advisors, as well as the Council, before I can authorize such a large-scale operation—that is concerning the Alliance. I find myself agreeing with it and its cause, but I cannot be impulsive in this matter. I must also speak with Konoha about it—they are one of our allies, and hence must be told. But I can give you permission to protect this portal of yours. I would not advise you to begin construction—for; it will take time for me to convince others of the benefits of this deal. In the mean time, I shall send a team to help protect it, and oversee it."

"Of course," said Mekkatorque, nodding his little head. "You are a remarkably accepting leader, Lord Gaara. Not many would support a cause they know little about. Why so easily?"

"If Uzumaki Naruto supports it," said Gaara, looking at the gnome passively. "Then I have no doubt it is a good one. I…trust him."

Mekkatorque nodded softly. "I am glad—but Naruto hardly factors into this situation. There are many things that could happen, that could put your village in danger due to the backlash. You must be willing to–"

"I am," said Gaara, swiftly. "And in the end, I still support it. I know what may happen. But I also know how I might react to those consequences. I will do anything to protect my people, and this village. But, I have learned that trust can do much, and that is why I accept it so easily. I know that Uzumaki Naruto would not accept anything that would endanger this world. I have confidence in him."

Mekkatorque paused, looking at the young Kazekage, and then gave a little chuckle. He hopped from his chair. "He is a remarkable boy, isn't he? He inspires such trust in so many." The old gnome gave a shake of his head. "But I am glad that you are not doing something this impulsive. You have as much time as you like to decide, and as much time to discuss with your allies and advisors. This will affect your entire world, Lord Gaara—you are right to think that it is not an easy decision, regardless of what you yourself think."

Mekkatorque then bowed again to the man. "If I perhaps might have your leave. I will discuss this with my companions and return to the portal as soon as I can. There is much to do, for both of us!"

"There is," Gaara agreed.

"Should you see Naruto before I, give him my regards. Such a good friend, he is, don't you think?"

"I…" Gaara began. He did not know quite why he stopped. But he found, under the old gnome's smile, he could not help but answer:

"Yes," he said, and gave a little smile.

Mekkatorque nodded. "I will have no doubt that I will see you again. Goodbye, Lord Gaara."

Gaara stood. He too bowed, and gave another small smile, which had Mekkatorque beaming at its sight. Gaara then led Mekkatorque to the door and saw him off down the hall. The sight of the gnome cheerily walking away would stay with Gaara for quite a while afterwards. He returned to his desk, briefly wondering what had happened to Yura. Did he know of the situation? He would call the man later, but now he wished to think.

He glanced outside, at the beautiful city, and thought of the people within it.

People he would do anything to protect. Yes, he thought, he had made the right decision. He would support this alliance, and fight for the village to accept it. It would be their protection, and with it he would give them a life they had never previously had before. He would learn about it, and discuss it, and report it to his people. But this village was theirs as much as his, and though he trusted Naruto in his decision, his people would make the final choice.

And that would be the right choice.

His eyes lingered upon the village and the beauty it represented. Then, as he turned, he spotted something in his peripheral vision, high in the cloudy blue sky. A bird—a large, white one that Gaara had never seen before in his village, flew gracefully across the sky. It would occasionally disappear into a patch of clouds, and was making its way steadily towards him. He stared at it for a moment, and felt a strange feeling come over him. It felt like a stone had dropped into his stomach, and as he watched the bird, getting closer and closer to his tower, the stone seemed to grow larger and heavier. His eyes narrowed, and he turned, beginning to undo his white Kazekage robes. He did it with swift, hurried motions, revealing beneath a solid red outfit. He walked towards the door, taking with him as he left the office a large gourd, the size of an adult man, which rested beside it.

For the first time in his life, he knew absolutely that something was wrong.

Deidara smiled slightly in excitement when a dark red dot appeared on the top of the tower below him. He had been circling it for a few minutes, deciding how he should enter. Already he had slain a few guards around its perimeter, using little bits of his clay. It was such a wonderful feeling! He shivered every time he heard the sound of his art becoming dust—whether it was a small bang or a tumultuous boom. He had no idea how anybody could not enjoy it.

It was one reason he didn't understand his partner Sasori. How could anyone want art to immortalize something? It was unnatural. Nothing was immortal. Hence, how could art do something like that? Art was supposed to show the fleetingness of time and life. It should only last as long as thefeeling that it represented did.

And as he watched his target take his place upon the roof, he felt a surge of life throughout his limbs. This, he knew, was going to be fun. He almost attacked then and there, not wanting that feeling he held to go to waste.

He guided his bird downwards. There was no point in hiding or escaping at this point. Besides, he was confident—yet another feeling he knew he had to put into this next set—that he could take on a young boy, who had yet to fully grow into his boots and britches as Kazekage, of all things. He brushed aside the fringe that covered his left eye—but rather than a left eye being there, there was a small, rectangular device with a shiny glass lens set within, like a camera—it was an ocular enhancement device, something he had had implanted long ago to help him see his target better from the sky. So, long before a normal man could see Gaara's face, Deidara was staring at it with a hungry passion.

Oh yes, he thought. This would be fun.

"So you noticed me, yeah?" he shouted down to Gaara, laughing.

Gaara stared up at him, coldly. "There are no birds like that here. What do you want?"

Deidara smiled, reaching into his cloak and one of the large bags full of his special clay. From it he plucked two models he had created in transit, ready to greet this young jinchuuriki. He held them out with a flourish, his smile growing wider.

"I'm surprised nobody's told you. I'm here to capture you. You don't need to know more than that…yeah!"

'Akatsuki, then,' thought Gaara, with a dark frown. Of course he had heard of the rogue group—Jiraiya had come and gone ages ago, telling the Sand about them and their apparent goals. To capture the bijuu, some of which resided within the bodies of shinobi.

These were called jinchuuriki. Like Naruto and Gaara.

"How about we get this show on the road!" Deidara thrust his figurines into the air, and moments after they left his hand they burst into clouds of smoke. A fraction of a second later they appeared again, one the size of a small dog—a crane-like bird with a long neck and long, thin wings; the other the size of a large horse—a frightening-looking beast with three long heads, large bat-like wings, and a long, whipping tail. The crane shot towards Gaara like a bullet, tucking its wings to its side and stretching its neck out as far as it could go.

Gaara swept a hand up. The large gourd upon his back suddenly released from its top a large stream of sand, which gathered in front of Gaara forming a perfectly rectangular shield, about a foot thick. The crane swerved, attempting to duck under, but Gaara's sand reacted in turn, and converged around it.

But the other beast did not head for Gaara; instead it began to circle around the Kazekage's tower, flapping slowly and never takings its three heads off Gaara.

So Gaara attacked. Thrusting out a hand, Gaara sent a long tendril of sand at Deidara. The bird that the Stone-nin stood on floated up, avoiding the tendril, and Deidara laughed, making a seal. The three-headed monster suddenly moved, faster than Gaara would have believed, and shot towards him.

Gaara swept the shield of Sand containing the captured crane across to face the three-headed beast. More Sand flowed from his gourd into the shield, making it stronger and thicker, and thus enabling it to absorb the considerable impact from the second figurine.

Deidara smiled.

"Art's the bomb!"

Gaara's world exploded.

The crane tucked and crushed within Gaara's sand shield responded to its creator's command by suddenly detonating with the force of four or five explosive notes. It blew apart the shield at the same instant the other figurine flapped its wings in and exploded as well—though much more violently. It ripped across the silent air and completely obliterated what little was on the roof of the tower, while throwing Gaara off his feet and then off the edge of the building. If it hadn't been for his final layers of defense—the unconsciously reacting sand that had plagued him all his life, as well as the second skin that he always wore, he would have been defeated right then. But perhaps that was what Deidara had intended, because he swept down as soon as Gaara began to fall, ready to catch the unconscious boy.

Unfortunately, Gaara had not yet lost consciousness. Even with the explosion ringing like a booming bell in his ears, he had enough sense to stop his fall with his sand, creating a small platform for him to stand on. He looked up, seeing Deidara frowning at him.

"Damn," the Akatsuki member muttered, reaching into his cloak to retrieve more clay. He had been expecting the last attack to be the final one. Now he had lost the element of surprise, and Gaara knew what his clay could do. The young Kazekage wouldn't make that mistake again.

When the ringing faded, Gaara stood and crossed his arms. He looked up towards Deidara again, his pale eyes with those dark rings boring into Deidara's single blue. The hardened Akatsuki member could not repress a slight shudder, in seeing those eyes.

A shudder of excitement.

"This is…" Deidara grinned, "starting to get really fun…yeah."

He thrust two more figurines into the air, which became animated as a pair of hawks, which flew towards Gaara in speedy, twisting arcs. Gaara raised his hands, making his sand platform rise swiftly up, to Deidara's level. He then thrust out one, towards the former Stone-nin. Two tendrils of sand burst from his gourd and curled around his body, forming two tubes. Gaara's eyes narrowed.

'Sabaku Juurensha!'

The sand coils burst apart, suddenly flinging a hail of small pellets of super-compressed sand as fast and deadly as kunai. Deidara's mount dove beneath the cloud of bullets, while his two previous art projects flew upwards towards Gaara, beneath his platform. In another moment they had been sliced apart, and were falling away from the young Kazekage; two blades of sand receded into the platform, while Gaara stared steadily at Deidara, as if he had not noticed the previous threat.

The Akatsuki member snarled. He guided his bird away from the tower, out towards the city. He gathered several small bits of clay into his left palm, letting the mouth upon his palm take it in and reshape it. With his right, he held out an already formed figurine—that of a fearsome looking creature with a lion's head and body, but a scorpion's tail, bat-like wings, and small horns above each ear. When it sprang to life, Deidara sent it at Gaara again. Gaara did not move.

And so the creature did. It flew below Gaara, straight towards the window of the Kazekage's tower. Deidara gave a triumphant yell as the figurine crashed through the window, and he made the seal for it to detonate.

But it did not.

Instead of a near-shattering boom, which would have completely destroyed the entire floor of the tower and hopefully cause it to collapse, there was but a muffled groaning sound. Instead of lots of light and sound and hopefully lots of death as well, there was nothing. For a moment, Deidara was left with a feeling of complete dissatisfaction. His Christmas presents had turned out to be coal. His art had been called mediocre. He hadn't gotten that kunai set he had been admiring so for his birthday.

He looked at Gaara, who stood, as silent and unmoving as ever. Arms crossed, his gaze forward. But a moment later, Deidara recognized that something was not right about the boy. It was not that he was keeping perfectly still—but it was that he was suddenly without his gourd. It was compounded by the fact that a second later, a figure appeared in the broken window. There stood Gaara, with his gourd, a smoking sphere of sand hovering behind him.

Deidara scowled at the boy. He looked at the Gaara that faced him, suddenly realizing what he had done. A Sand clone, and the use of Kawarimi no jutsu to quickly escape before Deidara had been able to notice. And obviously, he had used that special sand that had kept him safe from Deidara's first attack to smother the explosion. Deidara glared at the hovering orb, which began to dissipate and return to Gaara's gourd. He narrowed his eye.

Gaara then stepped back onto his platform, which had flown down to greet him. The sand clone vanished into the platform, and as soon as Gaara was fully on it, it shot towards Deidara. Gaara raised his arms into the air suddenly, his eyes never leaving Deidara.

The desert suddenly came alive, in a surging geyser of sand. From the edges of the village, where the desert began, to the very streets below, sand responded to Gaara's call, flowing up towards him like a many monstrous snakes or flowing sky dragons. Deidara's eye widened, and he guided his mount as far away from the Kazekage as he could. The swirling mass of sand, like a rain cloud full to bursting, hovered above Gaara, waiting for his order.

Below the raging battle, the people of the sand gazed skywards, amazed by the sudden gathering of sand above them. Those with the best eyes could see the two figures, hovering in mid-air, and some could even recognize one as their Kazekage.

Below the tower, there were two such people—Temari of the Sand, and her brother, Kankuro. They knew their youngest brother's form anywhere; and they too knew the sight of the black-cloaked man. They had heard the same news from Jiraiya. So Akatsuki had arrived.

"What is going on?" a voice asked, behind them.

Baki was there, but it had not been him who had spoke. Behind him was a group of extremely small people. At the head of them, a small, white-haired man wearing green goggles stood, and it was he who had spoken.

"Who is—" Kankuro began, but Temari stopped him with a look.

"Gaara-sama is up there? Who is that with him?" asked Baki, looking to Temari.

"Akatsuki," she said, returning her gaze to the fight. "We were unprepared. I didn't think they'd be attacking by now."

"Damn," grunted Baki.

"Who the devil is Akatsuki?" Mekkatorque piped.

Above, Gaara attacked. The cloud of sand exploded into life, hundreds of demonic grasping claws reaching out to grab and crush Deidara atop his little bird. His mount sped backwards while he readied another group of models to employ against the young Kazekage. In his hand now appeared one reptile with flitting, dragonfly-like wings, and one large bird resembling the one he stood on; but he did not immediately bring them to life. No, he needed to get closer, and somehow avoid that annoying shield that seemed to always gather around the boy. It would be pointless to waste more clay testing out his theory—which was that the sand in the boy's gourd was different from the sand he was now using to attack. He could vaguely sense something off about that sand, whenever it was summoned, and he figured that it had something to do with the demon that inhabited the boy—the cursed priest Shukaku.

He weaved through a forest of claw-like appendages, and as he went beneath the giant sand cloud, it began to descend towards him. It opened like the maw of some great monster, attempting to swallow him whole. He thrust one of his two figurines into the air, giving it life and sending it up into the devouring sand. The bird became gigantic, even bigger than his own mount, and flew straight into the open cavern. As soon as it struck a barrier, the innermost wall, it burst in an immense explosion, ripping the cloud apart for a moment and destroying many of the claws that were attempting to grab the Akatsuki member.

With a triumphant grin, Deidara sent his other figurine out in front of him. Upon wings that flittered a hundred times a minute the reptile, about as big as a large dog, shot towards Gaara. He remained solid as a statue, with arms crossed and eyes piercing. The model buzzed straight into the barrier of sand that suddenly surrounded Gaara in the time it would take one to blink. But it did not explode, and instead continued to grasp, clawing at the wall in a vain attempt to get through. Deidara soared beneath Gaara, suddenly flinging out his right hand and beginning to make a seal.

Gaara's gourd suddenly burst, and the red-haired young man thrust a hand downwards. Before Deidara could move away, a glob of sand the size of a man's body wrapped itself around Deidara's right arm.

'Sabaku Kyuu!'

Gaara clenched his open fist in fierce, violent manner, and the glob of sand suddenly compressed with such violent force that Deidara's arm was crushed into a rail-thin rod of bone, meat, and blood. The Akatsuki member screamed in agony, writhing and attempting to wrench his ruined arm away from the bloody prison that held it. His mount dove downwards, taking with it all but Deidara's right arm. The wound spewed a fountain of blood, staining the white surface of his perfect figurine.

Gaara didn't bat an eye. He had seen so much blood in his life that it no longer mattered to him. This man was an enemy, and he would deal with enemies in the way they were supposed to be dealt with.

Deidara clutched the bleeding stump in agony, his eye furiously boring into Gaara's lifeless, corpse-skin green ones, even as he reached into his cloak. But from it he now pulled a small vial of dark green liquid, cursing more violently than a sailor, which he upended into his mouth and then tossed away. The pain immediately began to fade, and the bleeding suddenly stopped. Smoke began to rise from the wound, and Deidara now felt the need to grin as Gaara's mask broke into a look of surprise; watching as Deidara's right arm began to grow back. Spears of bone emerged from the stump, whereupon muscle, blood vessels, nerves and finally flesh began to grow upon them, eventually becoming a whole arm.

'What is that?' Gaara thought. 'No such medicine should exist…'

But even before this process had completed, Deidara was already moving. His mount had taken him far away from Gaara and his mass of sand; he needed to think up another plan, and quick. He had only two potions containing troll's blood, and he didn't want to use the other one for as long as possible. And he could not continue this foolish of attacking and being attacked—he was not made of clay, and soon it would run out.

'It's a good thing I stocked up on this stuff before we left,' he thought. 'It would suck to run out around now, especially when this is getting so fun.' He glanced around him. He had a few tricks yet he could employ, but one specific one came to him just then. He grinned.

Reaching into one of his pouches, he removed a large chunk of his remaining clay, and let his hand devour it. When it was regurgitated, it had become the model of what was clearly a winged dragon.

"We must aid him," said Mekkatorque, glancing at the others.

"How can we?" said Baki. "There is little we can do now. We have to trust Gaara-sama. He has the ability to defeat this man."

"Of that I have no doubt," said Mekkatorque. "But you forget what I think both Lord Gaara and his opponent know—that Lord Gaara is not the only target in this situation."

It was Temari who realized what he was saying first. She looked up. "Shit! We need to get everyone out of here now!"

"What do you—" said Kankuro, frowning.

"Now, dammit! Now!" screamed Temari, looking desperately around her.

Deidara thrust his figurine into the air. It became the biggest of his creations yet—a fully-grown Azerothian dragon, with spines jutting from every corner of its body, and its mouth opened and roaring soundlessly. It beat two great bat-like wings, hovering beside Deidara and his mount. Deidara lifted a hand, his blue eye cold and narrow, and held it out for Gaara to see, the thumb turned down.

The dragon dove, and did not rise. Gaara's eyes widened, and he fell with it, the floating dune falling with him. The dragon streaked straight towards the streets below, flapping its great wings and opening its mouth as if to sound the demise of those below. Gaara's hand shot out, and in a great rolling wave the sand went, spilling down in a ferocious flood towards the ground. Gaara was faster—the sand slammed into an invisible ground, a hundred feet above the normal one, at the exact moment the dragon came.

This time, the world truly did explode. In flash of light as bright as the sun and a sound that traveled for hundreds of miles in each direction, the dragon detonated in a burst of power that should have vaporized everything below and around.

But it did not. The massive sand barrier that Gaara had conjured took every bit of the blast, sparing everyone below.

For Gaara, holding up the sand became a hundred times more unbearable; it felt like his arms would be pulled from his sockets, and it felt that every bit of his chakra had been expelled from his body. But still he held on. Tremors wracked his body and arms, which soon become numb. Blood pounded in his temples, and sound raged through his ears, clouding his thoughts. Weakening him.

But still he held on.

The explosion sent such a shockwave that the windows of the Kazekage's tower, on every level and every side, shattered completely. It rippled through the city, causing the citizens to gaze up, from the streets, and out of the windows of their homes, in horror and awe of the mighty plume of fire that had arisen in the sky above their fair village. Though they would not know for sure who had saved them until later, they all felt they knew.

Even those who did not know him felt they knew.

Below the great barrier of sand, Gaara's precious people stood in awe of their friend, brother, and leader's abilities. Kankuro was less astounded by Gaara's powers, for he knew more about them than any other, and more by his sheer force of will. He had saved them all, in that instant. For Kankuro, it simply made true all that Gaara had been seeking to accomplish. With this astounding feat, he had shown the world the lengths he would go to save his village.

Baki had never seen such a display of power in his life; he had seen Gaara's lesser displays quite a few times, but nothing of this magnitude. He thought that the shadow he was now cast in was not the shadow of Gaara' attack, but of Gaara himself. He had become so powerful.

Temari felt shivers of fear throughout her body—not fear for her own life, but fear for her brother's. Though amazed by the sight, she was more concerned with Gaara's ability to keep up with the Akatsuki member. This would have drained him quite a bit, and right now, it was certain that Deidara would be putting into action his second plan of attack.

Mekkatorque came to the same conclusion.

'I think I know precisely why,' Mekkatorque thought, 'this world appeals to me so much. To create such people as this—ah, my friend. You have inspired me yet again.'

Gaara was not able to relax a moment. As the explosion faded into sound and smoke, Deidara appeared, flying straight at Gaara. From his hand flew a long-necked crane with two pairs of wings. It flew faster than any before it, streaking straight for Gaara. Gaara did not even try to defend—weakened from his previous technique, and knowing that his ultimate defense would rise up to defend him regardless, he spent a moment to rest. He spent every moment of it gazing on his city, hoping that he had saved all of it. He then looked to the side, meeting Deidara's eye once more, and noticing the frightening glint it now held.

He turned to face the attack. The bird was now ten feet away, and unimpeded, would have reached him in three more seconds.

But encounter an impediment it did.

Streaking from below, a mere five feet from Gaara's floating, hunched form came a beam of electric blue light, which blasted apart the incoming explosive.

Deidara did not have time to scream in fury, for in another moment a second beam had sliced his own mount in two, He stumbled back, as it began to fall, as if surprised that his manufactured model could perish in such a way. He recovered his wits a second later and leapt from his perch, reaching into his pouch to gather more clay for another mount.

"Now Lord Gaara! Hit him now!" A voice called from below, which despite the mechanical distortion, Gaara knew almost instantly. But when he looked down to see the old gnome, he could not. For instead of a gnome there was a massive, vaguely humanoid machine atop his artificial, floating desert-shield. It was a deep blue in color, about nine feet tall, and one of its arms, which resembled little more than a tube, was raised and spewing smoke towards Deidara. It resembled a suit of foreign armor for a giant, when in fact it bore one of the smallest humanoid creatures in any world.

Gaara's body reacted then as swiftly as his sand barrier to the gnome's command; he thrust out his hands, preparing a technique that had been inspired by an enemy he had fought some time ago.

'Sabaku no Sawarabi!'

The floating desert suddenly rose up, and the surface began to shift and almost bubble like boiling water. Deidara, clutching a new figurine in his hand and ready to summon it, suddenly found himself face to face with Mekkatorque's machine suit, staring directly into the goggle-covered eyes of the High Tinker. The suit's other arm, which resembled the head of a large hammer, thrust out in a blur and slammed into Deidara's stomach. The Akatsuki member threw up blood, blasted away from the giant suit, his mount uncreated. He then twisted, mid-air, to see the floating mass of sand rise up towards him in the form of a thousand spiky, coiling protrusions, like a forest of vines and thorns.

Deidara cried out in surprise and fury as he vanished into the sand forest. His cries were gone as soon as he.

Before Mekkatorque could join him, a small mass of sand came up beneath him, stopping his fall. He rose up gradually then, to join Gaara by his side. The young Kazekage gasped and wheezed, but seemed more at ease now.

"Well done, Lord Gaara," Mekkatorque said, grinning beneath the plexi-glass shield that covered the cockpit.

Gaara awarded him with a smile that was larger than normal, which many would have killed to see.

But it vanished, when the sand forest exploded.

Deidara emerged, astride a gigantic owl, his single eye glaring murderously towards the two. His body was perfectly unharmed, save for a few rips and tears in his cloak. Deidara threw two models into the air, summoning them both. They both became dragonflies, streaking towards the two leaders, while Deidara himself flew backwards.

Mekkatorque raised his right arm, and so did his suit—from it he fired a blue beam of light, a laser strong enough to cut steel, which cut in half one of the figurines, while the other dodged down and up to avoid the blast. It continued its flight, now nearly fifteen feet away, weaving expertly away from Mekkatorque's laser. A moment later, perhaps, Mekkatorque would have gotten it; but that same moment two blurs appeared from below Mekkatorque's sand platform.

A winged snake model leapt up and coiled itself around the gnome king's attacking arm, while another coiled around his right leg. Both exploded before Mekkatorque could think of an appropriate response, and his suit's right arm and right leg were suddenly destroyed. Unable to hold his balance, he fell to the side and off the platform.

The dragonfly flew unimpeded, striking Gaara's sand barrier and exploding.

Deidara let out a ringing, cold laugh, which Gaara could hear from behind the barrier. He did not know quite why for a moment, before a flicker of movement right before his eye caught his attention.

There was a moth, pure ghostly white and fluttering noiselessly next to his face.

His eyes widened, and though he jerked away enough to avoid being slain, it was not enough for much else. The moth burst apart in a surprisingly large bang, and everything went black for the young Kazekage.

The sand fell like rain.

Temari and Kankuro stared up, their faces mirroring the same look of striking terror. They did not even bother to cover their eyes, as the sand from Gaara's summoning fell towards them like a summer rain.

The sky, though blue, now seemed dark and grey, as the rain fell.

"NO!" Temari roared, as she saw Gaara begin to fall, landing upon Deidara's owl. She lifted her fan from its strap on her back, and flipped it open. Baki grabbed her.

"Don't waste your chakra," he said, softly. "It won't reach him."

Temari closed her eyes, willing the sand to stop its flight. Willing Gaara to come back. She looked up again, and felt tears gather—tears that would remain unshed for a while.

Yet, tears that had been gathering for a good deal of time.

"My king!"

"Your highness!" cried several gnomes, staring up as Mekkatorque's suit fell with a resounding crash to the earth bursting apart. They reached it to find him still within, alive and unharmed. The cockpit door opened, and he leapt out, his eyes wide and desperate. He looked up.

…And saw Deidara's owl flying off into the distance. 'No,' he thought. 'This can't be.' How could he have been so foolish! He had underestimated his opponent, and that had cost him Gaara's safety! And now the boy was gone, captured. He looked to his subordinates.

"Do any of you have a mechanostrider? We must pursue them!"

They all nodded. The group of gnomes took small capsules from pouches around their belts, crushing them in their fists and then running through a few hand seals.

'Summoning: Mechanostrider!'

"I'll come with you,' hissed Temari, appearing at Mekkatorque's side. Her face was flushed with rage, and her eyes narrowed in the direction of the village entrance. "He's my brother, and I—"

"I need no more reason than that," said Mekkatorque. "Let's go."

Temari nodded, and turned to locate Kankuro.

But the young man was gone.

"Where did Kankuro go?" she asked, looking to Baki.

The man frowned, and glanced about as well. "I thought he was here…"

"What took you?" the fat Akatsuki member asked in his muffled, dispassionate voice.

"Dammit! That bastard didn't say there'd be gnomes in there…yeah! I nearly got killed 'cause one of them decided to try and be a hero and attack me! I lost an arm in there, too, to this little shit!" He kicked Gaara's limp body. "God, if I hadn't stored some clay in it before he ripped it off, I might not have won."

"Fascinating," his partner said, sounding everything to the contrary. "Let's go. I'm already sick of this place."

"Gladly," grumbled Deidara. "We'd better get out of here quick; a bunch of those bastards are probably going to follow us."

"Let them," said the fat one. "I'll be able to break four hundred in my collection, if they do."

"Yeah, but," snapped Deidara, "that bastard wants us back as quick as possible, to extract the bijuu. Let's just get out of here, fast!"

His partner and so-called master was already shuffling away, ignoring the man. Deidara followed, cursing silently under his breath.

The village was nearly out of sight when a voice called out to them.

"Stop! Let him go!"

Deidara frowned, turning back. Sasori had stopped, but did not turn. A young man, dressed entirely in black, stood behind them. He clutched three scrolls in his hands, gripping each with enough force to crumple them. His eyes were black as his outfit and narrowed into glinting onyx daggers.

"Let him go," he said again, now almost a whisper.

Deidara scowled. "Come and get him if you wan—"

"Just leave, Deidara. I'll deal with him myself."

Sasori had turned; Kankuro shivered slightly under the gaze of the emotionless, squinted and glossy eyes of the Akatsuki member. But it took a glance at Gaara's body to rekindle his fury in a heartbeat. He flipped open his three scrolls.

And Akasuna no Sasori stood, and waited.

"How's he doing, Tenzo?"

"Yamato, Kakashi-senpai. He's doing well—haven't you been watching?"

"A little," Kakashi said, tucking the small orange book back into a pouch on his vest.

They were looking out across the training field, where Naruto was. He stood at the edge of a small river that Yamato had created several minutes previous, using a simple water jutsu. The boy was soaked, and looked to be in a bad-temper, but had not stopped in his efforts. He was performing a training exercise neither had seen before—the blonde was attempting to hold a sphere of water between his hands, using only the Kyuubi's chakra. It had been since he had started a seemingly useless and impossible task. Nearly every time he did it, the water would bubble and boil and begin to evaporate, making it far more difficult to hold onto. That didn't stop the boy from trying, however, and it was a good way of controlling chakra. Yamato had ordered him to do something else after he had knocked himself out for the third time in his tree climbing exercise.

"Do you intend to teach him, after this," Yamato asked, "the elemental-recombination technique?"

Kakashi nodded. "From what I've seen, he already knows it to a degree, he just doesn't know that. He's never had any formal training in it in his life. There is an even better reason for teaching it, however. You'll find that out later."

Yamato nodded. His hand was still stretched out in the same fashion as before, and still the same kanji—"seat"—was written on his palm. It was becoming easier to control the demon's chakra, ever so slightly, every few hours of every day of their training. It was already three days into it. Naruto was learning quickly, as Kakashi had promised. He suspected that it would take but another weak or so, and Naruto would be able to learn the special training technique Kakashi had promised him.

"Kakashi-san!"

The voice broke into both Yamato and Naruto's thoughts, and Naruto dropped a globule of heated water onto his crotch. He yelled out in surprise and pain, turning to glare murderously at whoever had disturbed him.

With his shaggy black hair and the small bandage that perpetually covered his nose and cheeks, was Hagane Kotetsu, one of Tsunade's personal assistants. He had a despairing look on his face.

"What is it, Kotetsu?" asked Kakashi, noting the young man's worried eyes.

"Tsunade-sama has asked for you and Naruto-kun. You have a mission, a very important one."

Now Naruto was listening as well. "A mission?"

Kotetsu nodded.

"To the Sand. They need our help—their Kazekage has been captured by Akatsuki."

Done.

Hope the battle was okay. I tried to make it differ from the manga, so you guys wouldn't just get a boring repeat, but it sort of ended up in the same way…sorry.

But enough of that. Not much else to say other than…

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY WINTER VEIL!

Hope everyone enjoys their holidays, and since this is the season for giving and sharing, would you guys mind sharing your opinions with me in the form of a review? At least it doesn't cost anything…except time…but that's overrated anyways.

Hope you guys get lots of loot and enjoy your time with your families.

Seeya next week!

General Grievous

Merry Christmas/Channukah/Kwanza/Atheist-Day-of-Presents-and-Togetherness!

-Noz

Scroll of Seals

Sabaku Juurensha (Desert Hail of Bullets): Fires bullets made of sand at opponent, very deadly if they strike.

Special Clay- Clay of an unknown mix, created by Deidara, that when doused with his chakra can either act as a remote bomb that he exploded when he wishes it to, or he can make explode on impact with another object. He can control the forms of the clay using mouths on the palms of his hand.

Sabaku Sawarabi (Desert Seedling Fern): Using Sand from around him, Gaara can create a forest of deadly spikes that impale and kill any caught in them. Inspired by Kaguya Kimimaro's Sawarabi no Mai (Dance of the Seedling Ferns).

Summon: Mechanostrider: Uses oil as a medium instead of blood. Summons mechanical mounts that only the gnomes can use: Mechanostriders.

Bingo Book

Deidara (Akatsuki)(S-Class)(Boss): Member of Akatsuki, and an extremely powerful opponent formerly from the Hidden Stone, Deidara is one of the most ruthless ninja in the world. He possesses a powerful but unknown ability to mix and charge special clay that he develops himself to come to life and eventually explode, according to his wishes. He possesses a warped view of art—he believes it a fleeting, instantaneous beauty that cannot be captured forever. He believes true beauty lasts for a moment; and then it is destroyed, when the feeling of beauty vanishes. Art can only last as long as the feeling does, and he believes that nothing can be eternal. He is incredibly skilled and dexterous, and can defeat most opponents before they realize his ability. He is partnered with Sasori in his Akatsuki cell.