Four things before you begin reading:

1) Everything in this story is purely my imagination and is not the actual story how Masashi Kishimoto intended it.

2) Another chapter is to follow this one, so don't just think that this is all I've written.

3) Please leave reviews, it helps a lot! ..But please be constructive...don't flame no matter how much you hate it.

4) I hope you enjoy!

Deidara couldn't believe it. His mind just couldn't process the thought. An Uchiha…Sasuke Uchiha had defeated him. Was it even possible? Was he truly going to die? After all these years of believing his art was superior…was he just being foolish? As he stared into the emotionless eyes of his opponent, his hatred was forced up to its boiling point, and he screamed with an uncontrollable rage.

"DAMN YOU! YOU'RE JUST LIKE YOUR BROTHER!" He roared, digging his nails into the soft earth beneath him. "Those eyes….they're not true art! How can you defeat my masterpiece with those goddamned eyes?" Sasuke said nothing, but narrowed his eyes, which faded back from the Sharingan to their original lifeless black. "….Can you say nothing? Do you think so highly of yourself that you believe me not worthy of speaking to?" Deidara growled, snorting with contempt and laughing bitterly. "You Uchihas are so full of yourselves!"

"You sure speak foolishly for someone who is about to be killed." Sasuke said at last, looking down his nose at Deidara, who, despite his pitiful condition, was struggling to his feet, glaring intensely at his enemy.

"I'm not going to die here…You won't kill me…" Deidara sneered, his legs shaking upon the effort of standing. His arms hung limp and useless at his sides, the pain of using them too much to bear.

"Can you afford to take that chance?" Sasuke challenged, taking a confident step forward. Deidara flinched despite himself, and no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was never going to be beaten, the truth was inevitable. The great artist had finally been brought down.

"Don't take another step closer….!" The artist yelled, taking a hesitant step backwards. His knees buckled beneath him and caused him to stumble painfully back onto the ground.

"You talk tough, but you're just a big coward…" Sasuke taunted. He glared at Deidara and smirked with triumph. That's when Deidara saw it. Those eyes….those eyes that had haunted him for years on end. Those eyes that had torn him apart from the inside out since his childhood….they were before him once more. The eyes of a killer thirsting for blood, and Deidara was a victim to them once again. He cried out at the realization, and at that moment his past came rushing back to his memory, fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday.

At first all he could see was blood. On the walls, the ground, on his hands, and the air reeked of death. He was running, eyes streaming with tears of terror, disbelief, and panic, trying to shake the violent scene out of his mind. They were dead…each of them, gone, just like that. No matter how hard he tried to forget, his mind was still tainted with that horrifying image. The glazed over eyes of a dead man gazing up at him, its face frozen in a last scream of shock, the blood still oozing from its torn open neck.

Then the image changed, and Deidara was no longer running, but he was sitting calmly in his home on the floor, flipping through a book and frowning with boredom. He was rather young, at least 10 years old, and his long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. He sighed, throwing the book aside and flopping down on the ground. He reached for the bookshelf in search of literature that might satisfy him. He had already read most of the books in his house at least once, and before long, he had outgrown the books that his parents bought for him and went through his parent's collection of novels instead.

"Deidara? What…what are you DOING here?" A voice shrieked, rushing into the room in a fuss. It was a tall, attractive, blonde woman, her hair reaching down as far as the back of her legs. It was none other than Deidara's mother, who stormed up to the young Deidara and grabbed his arm. "I thought that you went to the academy hours ago! Your final exam was today!" she yelled shrilly, pulling the stubborn boy to his feet.

"I didn't want to take the final exam, so I came home." He explained, frowning. "I don't see what the big deal is."

His mother shook his shoulders vigorously, narrowing her eyes and growling threateningly, "Just wait until your father hears about this…." She pulled him through the house by his arm, shaking her head. "Maybe there's still time…you better hope that they haven't started the test yet…" she huffed, dragging Deidara through the streets towards the academy building.

Deidara pushed and fought to pull his mother's hand off of him. "Let go! I'm not going back there!" he screamed stubbornly, pulling in the opposite direction. Finally, just steps from the academy, Deidara was able to squirm free of her grasp, and he darted away as fast as he could. Turning his head to look back at his fuming mother, he smirked and held up his hand, the mouth on it sticking out its tongue mockingly.

"DEIDARA, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" She screamed viciously, taking off after him, drawing the attention of everyone near her.

Deidara ran faster still, laughing to himself and making a straight line for the village gates. Once he was outside of those walls, there was no limit to where he could hide, and he didn't have to follow the village's stupid rules.

Just as he took a running jump to make a classy escape through the border, he ran head-on into a man, sending both of them crashing to the ground. The young artist rubbed his head and glared at the person who had stopped him, yelling furiously. "Hey! What's the big id-"He suddenly stopped as he realized exactly who he had run into, swallowing hard and looking up nervously into the man's face.

The man had a strong, gentle look about him, and had golden hair that hung down slightly below his shoulders. "H-Hello father…." Deidara stammered, staring pitifully into his father's confused blue eyes.

"Deidara…what…? Aren't you supposed to be in school right now…?" Deidara's father asked, pushing himself to his feet and then helping Deidara back onto his.

Deidara looked down at the ground, trailing his foot in the dirt guiltily. "Well….I…I didn't want to go to school today…" he muttered.

His father sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "….you can't keep doing that….I won't have you expelled from this academy too…." He said sternly, folding his arms and staring down at his son.

Deidara nodded, unable to respond to his father out of shame. This wasn't the first time that he had to be scolded for skipping school. In fact, it was just one of many dozen times. The first academy that he attended was just on the outskirts of the village, and Deidara loathed it more than anything. All the other students there hated him, and he hated them just as much for what they did to him.

He tried to mind his own business in the corner of the classroom, attempting to hide the mouths on his hands, but no matter what he did to keep quiet, the other students would shove him around day after day. They kicked him, mocked him, and what enraged him the most was how they ridiculed his passion for art. Oh, how it made him furious… His parents had always encouraged his artwork despite the fact that they didn't quite understand it, but not everyone was as sympathetic as Deidara's parents.

Before long, he began skipping school to stay home where his art could be appreciated. Besides, nothing in school interested him anymore; the lessons were just too easy for him.

To Deidara's great pleasure, he was expelled from the first school for his constant absences and refusal to participate, but his parents managed to find a solution to that quickly by finding him a new school that would accept him.

"THERE you are! Can you believe this?" Deidara's mother cried after catching up with the two of them. She glared down at Deidara, and then looked up at her husband, yelling once again, "This is the tenth time this month! I won't stand for it anymore!"

Deidara looked up at his mother, shrinking away when she glowered at him, and then stared at his father, hoping for him to come to his aid.

Deidara's father said nothing, but shook his head with disappointment, resting his face in his palm and muttering something inaudible.

"…Do you realize what this means? Our son….yes, YOUR son's final exam is TODAY." The angry woman growled, waiting for her husband's reaction.

Immediately the man's posture stiffened and he bellowed in disbelief. "What? Of all days, Deidara….you have to be a pain in the ass today? Good god…If we're lucky you'll still make it for the test!" Deidara's father grabbed the boy by his shoulders and began guiding him hastily toward his school.

When they finally arrived, much to Deidara's dismay, the exams were just about through, but they reluctantly agreed to carry on with Deidara's assessment despite his tardiness. Waiting at the door of the academy was none other than Deidara's teacher, his arms folded crossly. Deidara's sensei sighed deeply and waved Deidara's parents away.

Deidara's teacher was rather tall and lanky with short black hair, and most of the time, Hiroshi-sensei wore a broad, joyful smile on his face. However, on this particular day, Hiroshi was obviously not smiling.

"So…what's your excuse this time, Deidara?" He interrogated, guiding Deidara down a hallway to the test room.

"….Rogue ninja attack?" Deidara offered, smiling innocently up at his teacher.

"Sorry. You used that last week." His sensei replied, laughing despite himself.

"How about….A super secret mission?"


"….Saving kittens from a fire?"

"That was yesterday's excuse."


Now both of the young men were smiling as they walked down the corridor, laughing softly as they approached the test room.

Although Deidara loathed the experience of the ninja academy, he enjoyed learning from Hiroshi-sensei because of his teacher's laid back personality, and also because he was the only person that Deidara knew, besides his parents, who could tolerate Deidara's vision of art.

"Hey…Hiroshi-sensei?" Deidara looked up at his teacher in hopes of a response. His teacher acknowledged the question with a quick grunt and a glance in Deidara's direction, his stern eyes not corresponding with his smiling face. "…Do you think my art is…stupid? Be honest…" Deidara asked at last, choking out the words with very much difficulty.

Hiroshi stopped walking and sighed deeply, resting his hand on Deidara's head. "Stupid? Of course not! Now…is your art unique? Now we have a different answer... Stupid and unique are two totally different things. Just look around this village and you'll see all sorts of people who claim to be superior, whether it be with their jutsu, their fighting style, or whatever the hell they say is best. When I compare those people to you, I see something that others don't. Your jutsu are special, Deidara. No one else could match that artistry… You're very intelligent, and you should value that skill, not question it." He ruffled Deidara's hair and smiled as he opened the doors to the assessment room, urging Deidara inside before slowly walking away.

The young artist swallowed hard and made his way little by little to the center of the room, turning to face his superiors.

"You're late." One of the three observed, drumming his fingers impatiently on his desk.

Deidara could do nothing but mutter a quick and shameful apology before another man spoke.

"We won't tolerate any disappointments today, Deidara. Now, first, please demonstrate the art of transformation."

"Too easy…" Deidara thought, making a quick hand seal and transforming into the first thing that came to his mind, which was his teacher, Hiroshi. "Can I leave now?" Deidara mumbled, transforming back to his original self and folding his arms.

"Not yet…we haven't even gotten started…" the first of the three hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Deidara smirked at the challenge and proceeded to tackle each and every trial thrown at him. He completed the clone jutsu with ease, struck the center of every target each time when practicing with kunai and shuriken, and by doing so, stunned the instructors into silence.

"There is one last test for you to complete…" The third finally spoke up after fumbling with his brush and writing something sloppily down on the paper in front of him. "You must-"

'Yeah, yeah I know…" Deidara stopped him midway, "Demonstrate a jutsu that I have prepared in advance and it can't be something I learned in school…I've taken this test before…"

"…Very well…" the man growled, folding his arms, "..Show us what you've been working on..Since you apparently know everything.."

The young man smirked and eagerly reached into his pack full of clay, taking out a handful and holding it high in the air. "This jutsu I have developed on my own…by combining the beauty of art and the destruction required to win battles…I have created an all new form of artwork…Behold!" Deidara clamped his hand shut for a moment, then released his fist into an open hand. Now, instead of a glob of clay, there was a mold in the precise shape of a bird resting on his palm. "It is not only appealing to the eye…but it can also explode, and in doing so, it reaches its full potential! My art does not just sit on a shelf and wither as it ages…it stays beautiful even through death…" the passionate artist concluded, lowering his hand and staring into the eyes of his evaluators, patiently awaiting a response.

"….Very strange boy.." one of them whispered.

"Yes…strange indeed…." Another replied skeptically.

Deidara's anger began to rise and he grinded his teeth together at the insult, throwing the art at a nearby target in the corner of the room. "Just watch! I can prove it to you!" he yelled, forming a hand seal hastily and closing his eyes, thinking. Although Deidara sounded confident, inwardly, he had his misgivings about the art he was about to demonstrate. He had only tested the jutsu once, and it had happened completely by accident. Deidara had meant to make the clay creature move, almost like a puppet master jutsu, but because he lacked experience in that field, Deidara used a dangerous amount of chakra on the clay, causing a devastating explosion that reduced a portion of the land to a crater in the earth. Luckily though, Deidara was smart enough to practice this deep in the woods of his village, and no one but him was injured.

Despite his many uncertainties about his new jutsu, Deidara completed the jutsu with an emission of chakra after a quick glare at his superiors.

There was a bright flash of light, an earth-rattling boom, and in half a second, the target on which the clay bird perched was reduced to rubble, as well as a majority of the targets around it.

Deidara opened his eyes and sighed quietly with relief, turning around and facing the critics with a triumphant smirk. "Now do you respect my art?" he began, raising a hand in the air, displaying the mouth on it shamelessly. "You fools ramble on and on of your superiority…but it is because of your stupidity that you are too blind to see the secrets that lie all around you…Look beyond this village and you will see a world in which my art can be displayed on..a canvas that I may paint to any image! Your jutsu may last one battle…whereas mine can leave a legacy for a lifetime!" Deidara finished, his chest heaving with the growing amount of strain on his breathing as his anger came to a boil.

"The boy is mad!" one of the men cried, his hand still resting on his heart from the sudden shock of the explosion.

"Completely insane!" another added, rising out of his chair.

"Sanity is for the fools who are afraid to take chances!" Deidara roared back. "If being insane is the only way I may carry out my passion, then insane I will be!" With that, the infuriated artist reached into his pack and pulled out a handful of clay, molding it into a spider before tossing it onto the desk of his frightened teachers.

Then, without another word, Deidara fled from the room and completed the art with a hand seal. The last thing Deidara heard was a scream and an explosion before he ran for his life.