Chapter 90 – My Art Is the Most Beautiful
Deidara didn't have much loyalty to Iwagakure, so taking him away wouldn't be difficult; all it would take was to appeal to his "art."
Fugaku had told Itachi: as long as you tell Deidara that the Sharingan is also a form of art, and challenge him to an artistic duel, he'll follow you.
Itachi believed this without question—his father's authority was absolute in his heart.
Of course, this path was also in line with the "original flow." In the Akatsuki's timeline, Itachi, Kisame Hoshigaki, and Sasori had been sent to recruit Deidara, and it was Itachi's Sharingan that defeated him, leading Deidara to join the organization.
Although Itachi no longer possessed the Mangekyō Sharingan, his body had been strengthened by the eye's power during its awakening. Compared to a normal Uchiha with a Three-Tomoe Sharingan, his abilities were far superior.
One night, Fugaku and Itachi had analyzed his power together. Their conclusion: Uchiha Itachi's strength currently stood above Elite Jōnin, just short of true Kage-level. He had already stepped onto that threshold.
Even without the divine genjutsu Tsukuyomi, the black flames of Amaterasu, or the defense of Susanoo, the Itachi of today could still overwhelm the current Deidara.
After all, this Deidara was far from his later self—many of his explosive creations hadn't even been invented yet.
At most, his strength was comparable to an Elite Jōnin. And even among Elite Jōnin, there were vast differences.
Just like the gap between Itachi, with his Three-Tomoe Sharingan, and Deidara.
---
The three—Itachi, Kisame, and Yakushi Nonō—climbed the rock platform and stood before a small stone house.
Deidara noticed them, but only glanced their way before ignoring them. His focus was on the clay in his hands, carefully shaping his latest inspiration: a giant bird.
That morning, he'd woken up and seen birds soaring outside his window. The thought struck him: If I mold a giant clay bird, couldn't it fly? Couldn't I soar through the skies on it?
To fly through the sky on his own clay creation—nothing could be more beautiful.
This was art. His art.
Once perfected, he'd ride his bird straight over Iwagakure to show that stubborn old man, Ōnoki, what real art was.
The Tsuchikage had banned him from entering the village, but flying above it didn't count as "entering," did it? Surely the sky wasn't part of the village's territory.
Part rebellion, part pride—that was how the idea of the clay bird was born.
"Who the hell are you? You're blocking my sunlight—get lost!"
Deidara scowled up at them, annoyed.
Kisame studied the blond boy: long hair falling naturally, tied into a short braid at the ends. His delicate face looked refined, but the foul mouth immediately broke the illusion.
He was Itachi's age—yet how different they seemed.
Kisame grumbled inwardly. Catching Yakushi Nonō's subtle wink, he realized she thought the same, and couldn't help but grin.
She still found him uncanny—like he wasn't really human at all, more like a shark-man from legend.
---
"We heard there was art here," Itachi said coolly, unfazed by the boy's rudeness. "So we came to see it for ourselves."
"Art?"
The word hit Deidara like lightning. His eyes widened.
"You… understand art too?"
"Of course," Itachi replied, his tone steady. "My Sharingan is art."
He activated his eyes, revealing the spinning crimson of the Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
"This is my kekkei genkai, the Sharingan. Tell me—how is it? Isn't it beautiful? I believe it is the most unique and perfect form of art in the world."
Something in those words struck a nerve. The excitement vanished from Deidara's face, replaced by a sneer.
"That? You call that art? Ridiculous. My explosions are art!"
He carefully set down the clay bird, then clapped his hands together. Spreading them wide, he muttered with manic delight:
"Boom! The fleeting beauty of an explosion—that is the truest, most powerful art!"
His smile stretched unnaturally, his voice rising with madness.
Kisame and Nonō exchanged a glance. This boy was exactly the unstable, obsessed genius the Hokage's intel had described.
Now it was up to Itachi.
---
"Then don't you think my Sharingan is also art?" Itachi asked calmly.
For a moment, Deidara hesitated. Rarely did he meet anyone who shared his view of art. He didn't want to reject that connection outright.
He rubbed his nose and said reluctantly, "Fine, yours can barely be considered art. But it's nothing compared to mine. My art… is the most beautiful in the world."
His voice carried conviction, almost madness.
Itachi's eyes gleamed faintly. "You say your explosions are the most beautiful? I don't believe it."
"You don't believe it?"
Deidara blinked, then suddenly grinned. "Ahh, I get it. You haven't seen my art, have you? Of course you wouldn't understand. But don't worry—I forgive you."
He stood, puffing out his chest. "Since you haven't seen it yet, I'll show you what true art looks like!"
Deidara dug a lump of clay from his pouch and placed it into his palm.
Itachi's gaze sharpened. Just as Fugaku's intel described, there was a mouth in Deidara's palm—teeth, tongue, and all. A grotesque tool for shaping explosive clay.
The mouth chewed, spat out white clay, and Deidara kneaded it eagerly into two lifelike spiders.
With a dramatic flourish, he tossed them to the ground. Forming a quick sequence of hand seals, he called out, "Watch closely!"
A puff of smoke erupted. The two spiders split into countless smaller ones, scuttling across the rocky ground. Soon they were crawling all around the three intruders, a swarm of tiny clay bombs waiting to detonate.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics