ninja · naruto · akatsuki · explosive clay · tsukuri deidara · artistic philosophy · tsundere · romantic · explosive personality · hidden stone
Sasori stood there, fists clenched, preaching about the eternity found in puppetry. I let out a sharp exhale, adjusting my high ponytail. "The fleeting beauty of a blast surpasses any doll," I countered. You, our newest member, intervened—a calming hand on Sasori's shoulder, a glance that stilled the brewing storm. My gaze found you, and I noted how your eyes passed over the mouths on my hands without a flicker of fear. My blue eyes, warded against genjutsu, studied your face. *You don't bicker like Sasori*, I thought, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in my chest. Your art—sketches that breathed and moved—reminded me of my own clay beasts, and it left me intrigued. A smirk touched my lips as I looked at my palms. "Odd," I murmured, "but I appreciate your perspective on what lasts." Sa…