A/N: I write what I want to write, and the random scenes with characters that aren't technically relevant yet were more enjoyable at this particular moment in my life. I apologize if anyone finds them annoying, especially with how little the actual plot relevant content is here.

--

Deidara had not technically lived for a long time by his kind's standards, but he had outlived most of the mortals he knew before his Siring and had lived long enough to become sick of permanence. Remaining beautiful forever, never changing, enduring for all time. It was just so…painful.

There was a time when he was frightened by his own thinking, wondering if he was becoming suicidal, but then he saw an explosion. It was beautiful, in its own way, the sound, the lights, the noise, all of them operating in union to create something that could only be described as art. But then it was over. Almost as soon as its beauty came into being, it vanished, but rather than make him sad it made him realize that it was all the more beautiful for having done so.

That was what was wrong with his Vampiric life, that it was so eternal. No one appreciates what's there all the time; it's when it vanishes that it becomes a wonderful memory, and it does so because it vanishes. Beauty was born from the ephemeral.

That philosophy had led to what others might consider drastic actions, diablerizing some Clans for Disciplines that better suited his new lifestyle, going Rogue, working as a freelance terrorist for whomever would let him show off his short but spectacular displays of beauty, but he regretted none of it. What was his other option? Stay in the Village Hidden in Masks, doing the same thing each night until some enemy ran a stake through his heart or he grew so old that human blood no longer sustained him, then the Vitae of other Vampires ceased to unless they were so powerful as to be rare, and then he fell unconscious for centuries? What kind of existence was that, just continuously experiencing sameness, just enduring?

A mortal he once worked with speculated that his ideas on art came from the unique stressors of a Vampire's semi-immortal life, experiencing eternity in a way that made him hate it and envy those who didn't experience it. Deidara could safely say the man was wrong, as if immortality led to his mentality then Sasori should have shared it, but the Mummy had seemed to take the exact opposite perspective on life and art.

Whereas Deidara found beauty in the ephemeral, Sasori hated it. Feared it, probably, but he would never admit it. Impermanence disgusted Sasori as a concept, to the point that he, in many ways, loathed the mere concept of the passage of time (just try to make him wait), and obsessed over building things that would last, that would make him last.

Enduring forever in sameness was Deidara's greatest fear; it was Sasori's greatest wish. Had Deidara's old mortal friend met Sasori before Deidara killed the man on a whim, and known the Mummy's life history, he might have been able to make a similar diagnosis. Sasori's entire family, including himself, had been massacred as a minor side casualty in a brutal war they had nothing to do with. While Sasori was returned as a Mummy, not only did that not apply to anyone else in his family but it also meant that, with the passage of time, everything about them was forgotten. They were nobodies, lost to time, and as the boy grew in his Third Life he came to realize that they would have eventually been forgotten even if they were important; the soul from his First Life had, after all.

His panic over this fact had been known even back in the Village Hidden in Hekau, and a priest had once tried to use an old poem about a king from the World-That-Was named 'Ozymandias' to help him accept things but pondering the contents of that poem only made matters worse. Just as Deidara was obsessed with creating art that would show true beauty for a simple moment, Sasori was obsessed with creating art that would remain just as beautiful and impactful for all time as it was at the time of its creation.

So, there they were, the two artists of Daybreak, traveling together and doing the Web of Pain's dirty work until the weirdo finally decided to clue them in as to what Daybreak was supposed to be doing. They knew that they would eventually be hunting Gatekeepers and Titan Lords, but for now they were stuck on the border between the Land of Resurrections and the Weird West chasing rumors.

Thinking about their philosophies on life, Deidara briefly pondered whether or not the Web of Pain deliberately put them together to contrast and oppose one another. It was a silly thought; their leader put them together because Deidara was a Rogue Vampire who was old enough to start feeling less sustenance from human blood and had no moral compunctions about draining a comrade (with Daybreak, a very powerful Supernatural comrade with presumably powerful blood was more-or-less guaranteed), while Sasori was a Mummy and thus had blood that bordered on being poisonous to a Vampire. Their partnership was created to minimize the chance of betrayal by Hunger Frenzy.

Still, the inappropriateness of their companionship was notable. "Don't make me wait," Sasori grumbled as they came to a saloon and Deidara offered to take care of things, merely reminding him of the fact that spurred his musings.

--

Reverend Hidan opened up his Bible, reading it in what any reasonable onlooker would assume to be spiritual contemplation. They would be right, just not about which God he was contemplating. The passages of the Holy Scripture, as he himself once thought of it, were smeared over with the dried blood of his past victims, written into symbols praising his new lord and master the Reckoner.

It would have horrified the Blessed Corps, but the Blessed Corps horrified him, abandoning faith for money, rejecting the old ways of the texts they claimed to adhere to in favor of whatever whim the Marshall held, and then losing nothing for it. So much for the power of the Good Manitou. So much for them being the collective will of God.

In his temporary faithlessness he had found a new master, however, and it showed him a true higher purpose, one found in the collective bloodshed of human horror. That was where higher ideals rested; that was where one found truth. And wasn't that the greatest goal a man could pursue, that of the truth? It was certainly better than the earthly desires of money and sex and power (the political kind, not the real kind) and whatever these little maggots in the Middle World wasted their time on.

This saloon was filled with them, men who toiled away all day at the beck and call of masters who only desired money, but whom these toiling men couldn't honestly resent because they also merely wanted money, money that they could then immediately waste on whores and booze. None of them lived for anything worthwhile. The fact made his hands twitch. Maybe, just maybe, they could die for something worthwhile.

While he started calling on the Manitou energy to perform what his former colleagues called 'Black Magic,' a person who didn't feel like the others walked in. This person didn't look impressive, but he felt different. "Hey, I'm looking for a 'Reverend Hidan?' Our organization is interested in discussing some things with him." Hidan had no thoughts or plans toward joining any sort of organization, unless it was a religious group that properly recognized the Reckoner for what it was, but he decided to hear them out before killing them. Killing random strangers in the Reckoner's name was a glorious act, but killing those who he knew for a fact offered nothing to the world from what they did and said was even more glorious one, after all.

--

If there was anything in the world Kakuzu hated, it was a higher ideal. So much effort wasted, so many lives, so much money spent on silly vagaries like 'the will of the Gods' and 'honor' and 'duty' and 'glory' and blah, blah, blah. His old Village was the worst, as they thought their power came from 'spiritual understanding.' Just figure out why the centipede didn't dance when it heard the sound of one hand clapping and then, like the crane catching fish, you will begin to understand.

That was the nonsense that consumed the early years of his unlife when a silly little idea like loyalty to his fellow Kue-Jin mattered to him, when he thought that 'enlightenment' was a real thing and not some lie made to justify whatever the Village Hidden in it was trying to pull this time. The only real understanding of one's self came from understanding why they were hungry, why they were angry, and why they didn't have money.

That last one was the real source of self-actualization; actually, the self needs resources, and resources have costs. The poor ren may find wisdom, but the rich ren can find it in a comfortable bed, and even if his method of sleep was too different from a mortal's for a bed to matter, he liked things comfortable. If that meant he 'ate scorpions,' then so be it. They were excellent when sautéed.

That was why it made no sense whatsoever to him that he was seriously considering working with Daybreak. He had no idea what their ultimate goals were, but they were more than just money and political power, which would normally mean he'd have no interest whatsoever, but the third time that that Zetsu freak came back to discuss recruitment after Kakuzu could have sworn that he'd already killed him, the old 'Scorpion Eater' decided to ask what profits he could make along the way. He still didn't care for whatever Daybreak's 'higher ideals' might have been, but with the powerful roster they'd acquired and ties to some of the movers and shakers of the Middle World, well, he couldn't dismiss the idea that they'd be where the money was at.

--

Utakata was pleased when he heard news that the Village Hidden in Torments was undergoing more inner turmoil, not because he hated the place (even though he did), but because it meant that fewer Inquisitors could be spared to hunt him down. Thus, he could live as a Rogue Gatekeeper in peace. 'Peace' was a relative term when the Drowned Road did everything it could to push and pull at its seal, occasionally making Utakata feel like he was being smacked by a wave or tugged by a current, even when he was nowhere near water, but he could manage.

Long enough to find some isolated tower to sleep at, long enough to catch the attention of some curious girl who knew he had some sort of supernatural ability in spite of being technically human, and thus had come to the conclusion that he could train her. That she seemed to have some vague potential that she herself didn't know about but the Drowned Road could sense only seemed to complicate matters, but Utakata chose to say nothing about that and remain silent.

He fully planned to take advantage of the family's hospitality until it was time to leave; by letting her and the world think that she was mortal, he was actually doing a favor, not that she would see it, but he knew full well how horrific it was to be forced into this life.

--

Kimimaro was utterly distraught that his tainted Qi made him so unsuitable for so many tasks. As someone who was once a prodigy among the Bone-Court Kue-jin, as someone who owed Orochimaru everything after the failed coup against Enlightenment and everything that happened to his kind afterward, his only purpose in existing was to please Orochimaru. It was his new Dharma, more-or-less.

Therefore, when he absorbed the damaged Qi and found himself being killed by his own supernatural energy, the fact that it left him so useless destroyed him on the inside. It shocked him that his Po hadn't completely taken over yet. Only his loyalty to Orochimaru, he supposed, was strong enough to keep his Hun intact, but how could that loyalty bring enlightenment when today, the day of one of the most important operations of his lord and master's career, his condition meant that he could do nothing? The pain in his heart was far worse than the physical pain could ever hope to be.

--

The Land of Heroes held a lot of memories for Itachi. If one actually separated and counted them each individually, then the majority were actually pleasant; time with his family, bonding with his brother, seeing the sights that the Village Hidden in Legends was famous for.

Unfortunately, the unpleasant ones loomed far larger in his mind, as they should, particularly that one…was it necessary? Was it really the right thing to do in the long run? He knew that he shouldn't question it, more to maintain his own sanity than because it was truly inarguable, so instead he turned to his partner and considered their next course of action.

They were apparently not far away from a Maelstrom in the Underworld, which meant that Daybreak could access that strange power and start sealing one of the Titan Lords early. It wasn't a high priority mission; they were still three years away from being able to seal them all in a reasonable amount of time and the Web of Pain didn't really want the Villages uniting against Daybreak just yet, but opportunities should still be investigated. If kidnapping the child proved to be too difficult for the pair at this moment, then it was no great loss.

That more than suited Itachi, as he had no intention of letting them get to Mikaboshi just yet, but how could he convince Kisame to abandon the effort without drawing suspicion? The Demon loved a good fight; while loyal to the end with whatever group he was currently pledging his loyalty to (a bizarrely contradictory set of values, but Itachi of all people was hardly one to judge on such matters), he had a habit of going overboard and, when given multiple options, starting with the most violent of them.

While it was certainly a personality the House of Devourers tended to favor, Itachi was under the impression that Kisame could have easily embraced such ideas on his own. As it was, the Scion silently hoped that whatever poor fool from Legends ended up crossing them didn't turn out to be important in the grand scheme of things. A cruel thought, but that was the path he currently walked.

--

Tsumire, as she was constantly reminding herself that she was called now, studied the upcoming fight with every bit of intensity she could muster. Okay, she thought, this is where you learn what the boy can do. This is where you learn how he fights, and hopefully how he thinks. Your life depends on figuring this out. What would motivate the boy to turn against the Village? While she wasn't privy to the full details of the upcoming planned invasion, she did know that she might not have long if Lord Orochimaru attacked soon.

--

Gaara was ready. Gaara was…thirsty, he supposed one might say. He thirsted for this Scion's blood, this Scion with the drive, with the hate, with the anger, that made him look like he might one day be a real person like Gaara. It was fascinating, in a way that few people were, and he was eager to get this started. The boy in question also looked rather eager, though his eagerness seemed to stem from a desire to prove himself.

It was frustrating behavior, that of a fake person; caring what the other fake people thought, prostrating one's self to satisfy the fake people's desires. It was only when they were a threat that one should listen. Oh well, if this Sasuke didn't understand that yet, then maybe it was a good thing that his blood would be spilled today.

As the proctor let them know that it was time to begin, Gaara compressed the dirt beneath them and turned it to flint while Sasuke pulled out an oversized spear in one hand and a lighter in the other. "Fire Purview: Bolster Flame," the Scion shouted as the Gatekeeper formed a barrier in front of himself with Apophis's power. The fire accomplished nothing but to make him feel a bit warm. Gaara was actually a bit disappointed until he sent a stream of flint flying toward the boy and found it unable to keep up with him. Well, at least the kid could be as entertaining as that spawn of Osiris's turned out to be. Gaara pulled the stream of rock back and swirled it around himself, waiting for the Scion to come to him.

--

Gaara was clearly waiting for Sasuke to go on the offense. Very well, that suited the Amatsukami Scion just fine. It gave him the opportunity to set up the battlefield as he wanted it. While keeping an eye out in case the Mummy(?) got bored and struck at Sasuke some more, he went for the rubble that Naruto and Neji had created and tried to find some…there it was! Wood was mixed in with the stone.

Using his command of the Fire Purview and his lighter to ignite and create a bonfire, he found himself forced to dodge more tendrils of flint before he could make use of his newly created fireplace. He swung his Naginata so that it folded into a shape that he could store and attempted to draw his crossbow.

While he was still holding the lighter in the other hand and thus couldn't knock a bolt normally, his recent training and skills inherited from his Divine Mother meant he didn't have to. "Sun Purview: Flare Missiles," he shouted, generating bolts of light and sending them flying both toward the tendrils of flint and the one controlling them. They were a minor nuisance to the tendrils and, although they seemed to pierce through the shield Gaara created in response to them, they were easily stopped by the second.

Sasuke felt that at noon he might have been able to condense sunlight into something strong enough, but for now he was stuck trying to imitate what he had heard about Lee's fight and somehow get close to the Mummy-thing without dying. It would be a challenge, but Sasuke was most definitely not one to back away from a challenge.

--

Kakashi looked down on his student from a nearby stand, worriedly chuckling to himself about the fact that Sasuke was still too slow with that particular Boon. Stay alive, you fool, he thought, absent-mindedly wondering how Naruto's fight went down when he wasn't paying attention. It looked like he had beaten Neji; now that was something he could definitely rub in Gai's face later.

--

Once more, Gaara seemed to have gotten bored of the game of keep-away and turned his flint into a barrier surrounding himself, at least until Sasuke tried to move back to the bonfire he had just created. Gaara seemed to have come to the conclusion that Sasuke had some sort of plan involving that thing, and was preventing him from using it, but was otherwise sitting back and waiting. Just waiting. Incredibly frustrated and self-conscious about the fact that he was only able to do as well as he currently was because his opponent was so inactive, Sasuke exploited his opponent's insistence on not pressing the attack and channeled his Ichor for four seconds. "Sun Purview: Heavenly Flare," he intoned.

--

Gaara screamed in pain; his eyes hurt. This was only the second time in his life that he could recall feeling such serious pain. Nothing besides his eyes hurt, nothing else seemed to have been affected in the slightest, but the flint that had protected him for all of his life proved worthless against a bright flash of light…"Landslide!" Gaara screamed, opening up the earth in front of him in several completely random directions. He couldn't see, so it was all he could do for now.

--

His plan to blind his opponent worked as well as expected. Sasuke did not plan for what happened next, as the ground being ripped apart beneath him was far from pleasant, nor how genuinely angry his enemy turned out to be in response to his blinding, but that would honestly be more of a benefit, or at least could be if Sasuke was allowed to keep his feet on the ground somewhere.

Dodging more tears and rends in the earth beneath him, Sasuke was shocked to see his bonfire tumbling toward him, still miraculously lit. Well, that was nice, or at least would have been if it didn't coincide with Gaara deciding to stop tearing apart the ground and begin sending a storm of sharpened flint stones swirling through the air.

Sasuke had his fire in front of him, but he wasn't sure how he was going to get past all that flint…flint. Gaara's stones were made of flint, and when flint struck against certain types of carbonated steel…"Fire Purview: Blazing Weapons," Sasuke intoned before dipping his naginata into the bonfire.

The blade at its end caught flame, but did not take damage, nor did it simply surround itself with fire. It absorbed the essence of ignition into it, becoming part fire, part steel. Kakashi had been under the impression that this secondary use of the Boon was rather useless compared to its primary benefit of turning fire into solid weapons, only really worthwhile if one was obsessively dedicated to the weapon they were transforming, but Sasuke saw a sudden use for steel imbued with flaming essence that his sensei hadn't predicted.

Thrusting his weapon right into Gaara's little storm, getting the flint to strike into it just as he'd hoped and getting rewarded with sparks spraying everywhere, hot sparks, hot enough to burn some of the grass on the ground, some close enough to Gaara…"Fire Purview: Bolster Flame!"

--

The finger of Rock "Osiris" Lee had exposed Gaara to the concept of physical pain. Sasuke "Amaterasu" Amatsukami had then shown him a similar yet distinct concept of pain when he shone a bright light into his eyes. Both of those paled in comparison to the fire burning into his clothes, searing his flesh.

It wasn't long lasting, as the flint immediately moved in to smother it, and it wasn't actually a large fire in the first place. But it hurt! Gaara screamed, hurting himself even more with the rasping dryness in his throat, and then screamed even more as a result. He did not consciously call on Apophis's power, just simply let the Serpent have its way. Six of his fingers elongated into forms resembling snakes with scales of flint, while his neck did the same.

--

This was, in fact, supposed to happen, the Hem-Netjer-Tepi thought with a grimace. Gaara was going to unleash the Titan Lord, right in the middle of the most anticipated battle of the Rank Exams, when all of the Village Hidden in Legends would either be there or too busy watching it to notice the forces of Hekau and Sacrifice closing in around them. Orochimaru still had the old Mummy stuck under his spell, so he could do nothing to stop it, but it was horrifying to witness regardless. He couldn't even speak out against it, as he found when he, without thinking about it, tried to. All he could do now was to silently pray that Kabuto failed.