The strange scene before their eyes made everyone present drop their jaws in shock. No one understood how such a thing was even possible.
Only Ōnoki, staring at the vanished mountain and the flat land left in its place, could not calm the tremor in his chest.
"Deidara…"
"You actually… succeeded…"
His voice wavered, sounding both like he was questioning Deidara and questioning himself.
Fragments of old memories surged up — scenes of him teaching that rowdy, stubborn boy ninjutsu years ago.
"Old man, you talk too much. It's annoying."
"Can't you stop bragging about your Dust Release already? It's not that amazing. My art will definitely surpass your Dust Release in the future!"
In Ōnoki's memory, the young Deidara stood there with the Iwagakure forehead protector tied proudly across his brow, wearing the red-and-black Iwa combat uniform. The boy's eyes burned with arrogant confidence as he looked at him.
"You brat, you don't know anything!"
"My Dust Release was inherited from the Second Tsuchikage, Master Mū. It combines wind, earth, and fire — a technique greater than any ordinary bloodline limit!"
"This is Kekkei Tōta — a unique power in the entire shinobi world! It can disintegrate anything down to the atomic level!"
"Can your little clay do that?!"
Little Deidara turned his head away with an exaggerated huff.
"Tsk~ Atomic level, so what? You're just bullying me because you're old!"
"Just wait — I'll create an explosive ninjutsu like that someday!"
"Explosion art is the strongest!" he declared, pointing to the giant mountain on the border of Iwagakure.
"See that? That massive mountain!"
"One day, I'll make it disappear with my art — like erasing it with an eraser!"
His youthful arrogance made Ōnoki's forehead twitch. The old man smacked him on the head without hesitation.
"You arrogant brat! How could clay ever reach that level?!"
"You clearly didn't study properly at the Ninja Academy. All this nonsense you spout—!"
"Looks like you need to go back and train again!"
…
"Grandpa, where's Brother Deidara?"
A familiar voice snapped Ōnoki back to reality. He turned and saw his granddaughter, Kurotsuchi, staring at him with hopeful eyes.
Ōnoki lowered his head. He couldn't bring himself to answer.
Kuroiwa, the guard at the Iwa gate, approached them and spoke quietly.
"After Deidara blew up the mountain… he left."
Only then did Kurotsuchi truly register the empty horizon — the dark brown mountain that had always stood over Iwagakure was simply gone. And along with that realization came memories of childish promises.
"Sooner or later, I'm going to blow up that big guy blocking the view!"
"Idiot Brother Deidara, if that thing explodes, the debris will crush half the village."
'The explosion I'm talking about isn't some normal boom! It's high-level art — an explosion stronger than Grandpa's Dust Release!'
"What nonsense are you talking about…? Forget it, whatever makes you happy."
"If you ever plan to blow it up for real, warn me first. I'll tell Grandpa so we can evacuate everyone."
'Hey! Hey hey! You little brat! You can doubt me, but never doubt my art!'
"Oh yes, yes… I believe you…"
The old childhood conversation replayed painfully in her head as she stared at the empty space where the mountain had once been.
"Brother Deidara… isn't coming back?"
"He won't come back." Ōnoki's voice was hollow.
The younger Iwa shinobi, however, reacted very differently. They didn't share the old memories — only fear.
"That traitor must've planted more clay bombs around here!"
"Any Lightning-Style users? Use Lightning Release to neutralize the clay!!"
…
Two days later, Deidara sat atop his giant clay bird, flying toward Konoha. By his estimate, he'd arrive soon.
The journey should've taken just over a day, but he'd stopped midway — lost in hesitation.
He didn't know if Konoha would even accept him now. After all, even his own village had rejected him.
Would a village with no ties to him take him in?
He imagined the scene, and the picture in his mind only made his chest heavier.
He saw himself approaching Uchiha Hikaru — Konan's cherished person, Nagato's future brother-in-law — with Scorpion-grandpa and Hidan following behind him like executioners.
Uchiha Hikaru slapped the "pathetic Deidara" across the face twice, expression dripping with cold contempt.
"Yo yo~ Isn't this Iwagakure's Deidara? Why do you look so miserable after only a few days?"
"What's wrong? Life hit you too hard? Why crawl back to Konoha?"
Broken-down Deidara whimpered, "Iwagakure doesn't want me… will Konoha take me in?"
Hikaru stared at him like he was garbage.
"What, do you think Konoha is a charity home for discarded shinobi?"
"I need a reason to take in someone another village threw away."
Deidara sniffled. "But I… really have nowhere to go…"
Scorpion sneered, lips twisting.
"Hmph! Konoha is already protected by my eternal puppet body. Your little 'explosion art' is worthless here."
He made a dramatic thumbs-down motion.
Hidan grinned like a deranged priest.
"Oi, kid! If you're that desperate, join the Cult of Jashin! We need someone expendable. You look weak enough to fit right in~"
The barrage of imagined insults spiraled through his mind until he drifted numbly into Konoha. He passed through the gate in a daze, flashed his temporary entry pass, and stumbled inside.
A guard muttered, "Did this guy have a stomachache? Why's he so pale?"
Shen whispered, "Should I inform Lord Uchiha Hikaru? He's the one who approved Deidara's pass…"
…
Half an hour later, Deidara was slumped in a small Konoha tavern, already drunk and complaining loudly to the owner.
"Waaah! Can you understand—? Everyone in the village I grew up in thinks I'm a traitor!"
"Waaaah! I'm so sad! They say my explosion art is dangerous — that it's trash — that I'm basically committing terrorism!!"
The bald shopkeeper looked at the young man — barely an adult, drunk out of his mind — and sighed sympathetically. He patted Deidara's shoulder.
"Young man, I understand your pain. It's just the art of explosions. I get it. My son loves it."
Deidara's eyes lit up instantly.
"You understand?!"
"Of course!" the boss said confidently.
"It's fireworks — explosion art. Under the night sky, the sparks are so beautiful!"
"I don't know what kind of village you came from… but how could they lack this much aesthetic sense? Terrible!"
…
…
…
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