The Ninja World appeared calm and undisturbed.
To ordinary people, everything seed peaceful—but to those with discerning eyes, invisible undercurrents were already stirring beneath the surface.
Umbrella Base, Land of Wind.
Today, a rather talkative young man arrived.
"Deidara! Why are you so noisy?"
"I told you to observe more and speak less!"
The one scolding him was a middle-aged man who looked to be around forty. He wore a gray work uniform stained with dust, along with a yellow plastic hard hat perched firmly on his head.
He was reprimanding the young man standing before him.
This man was not a shinobi—but he was the second-in-command of the entire base.
Just yesterday, Umbrella had received a ssage from headquarters: a talented young man from the Akatsuki had been dispatched here for training. That young man was the overly curious fellow in front of him now.
And that young man was Deidara.
After being persuaded by Nagato, Deidara had grown increasingly impatient—especially when he heard about the so-called Mushroom Bomb. He couldn't wait to learn more.
He had already removed his Akatsuki cloak and even changed his hairstyle.
There were many shinobi stationed at this base, but most of them didn't recognize Deidara. Even those who did could no longer associate him with his forr appearance.
"Uncle Hirata," Deidara asked eagerly, eyes burning with excitent,
"When can I learn about the Mushroom Bomb?"
Uncle Hirata looked at the young man—soone even younger than his own son—and spoke slowly.
"Deidara… shouldn't soone your age be striving to beco a famous shinobi or martial expert?"
"Isn't life at headquarters comfortable enough?"
"Why co to this godforsaken place to suffer?"
His tone was earnest.
Hirata knew very well that Deidara was a powerful shinobi. That was precisely what puzzled him—soone with such strength could easily make a na for himself elsewhere. Why would he choose to stay in a demolition departnt like this?
This place specialized in explosive research. Day after day, it was nothing but calculations, materials, and repeated experints. To most young people, it was unbearably dull.
As for the Mushroom Bomb Deidara kept ntioning, Hirata was familiar with it as well. That project was still purely theoretical. Even if research progressed smoothly, it would take several years before anything concrete could be produced.
Yet Deidara's response caught him completely off guard.
"Uncle Hirata, how can researching art be boring?"
Deidara's voice carried unmistakable fanaticism.
He genuinely loved this place.
In his eyes, the people here weren't rely researchers—they were artists. Explosion artists.
To be surrounded by so many like-minded individuals made this base feel like a holy land. Though he had only been here for a single day, Deidara had already learned techniques that could further enhance his abilities.
But what he wanted most was still the Mushroom Bomb.
He had asked many people, yet no one was willing—or authorized—to explain it to him.
With no other choice, he finally sought out Uncle Hirata, the man truly in charge of technical matters. While the base commander handled administration, all research and developnt ultimately fell under Hirata's authority.
"Oh?"
"You think this is art?"
Hirata was genuinely surprised.
Even he had never viewed his work from such a perspective.
Looking at Deidara now, he could tell—this young man didn't just enjoy explosions.
He worshiped them.
In that mont, Hirata suddenly understood why Umbrella—and the Akatsuki—had sent Deidara here.
He truly was a rare talent.
That said… his ideology still needed refinent.
"Deidara," Hirata said seriously,
"any path must be walked step by step. You can't jump straight into sothing as advanced as the Mushroom Bomb."
"From today onward, you'll learn the basics—with ."
Hirata looked at Deidara with clear approval.
He believed this young man could one day inherit his work.
Their demolition departnt was no less important than chanical manufacturing. Given ti, perhaps Deidara could even surpass him.
Maybe he should introduce Deidara to his old friends next ti…
When was the last ti they had a drink together?
…
Before long, Deidara's painful yet joyful life officially began.
Everything here felt both unfamiliar and torturous—yet exhilarating.
It reminded him of the days when he had first begun studying explosion ninjutsu.
"Deidara," Hirata said sternly,
"if you want to go further, you must start from the fundantals!"
Hirata patiently taught him the basics of explosive manufacturing.
Truthfully, Deidara already knew all of this.
With chakra alone, he could create bombs far more powerful than ordinary explosives.
Yet now, he listened quietly—enduring Hirata's scolding and instruction without complaint.
Hirata studied him carefully before speaking again.
"I can tell that you truly love this field. And you already possess extensive knowledge in it."
"I must admit—shinobi are indeed terrifying existences."
"And chakra…"
"…is nothing short of a miraculous energy, capable of turning decay into wonder."
"But here, you cannot rely on chakra."
Hirata's voice was calm but firm.
"I don't understand chakra," he continued, "but I do know that it follows laws of mutual restraint. This field of study is vast and profound. If you want to go further, you must first build a solid foundation. Do you understand?"
He looked at Deidara patiently.
This young man possessed extraordinary talent, but he was still too deeply influenced by the mindset of a shinobi. If one day Deidara could truly integrate his accumulated knowledge with chakra—rather than depend on it blindly—he might reach a height even Hirata himself could not imagine.
Perhaps he could even open an entirely new path.
But before reaching that level, over-reliance on chakra would only limit him.
Deidara nodded, though his understanding was still incomplete.
"I see… more or less."
"Very good," Hirata said with satisfaction. "Next, I'll show you a project we developed jointly with another departnt."
He paused, then announced proudly:
"The Western Wind Delivery Project."
"I'll let you see what we can achieve—without chakra."
Hirata's confidence was unmistakable.
Deidara blinked.
Another strange na—just like Mushroom Bomb. Western Wind Delivery? He didn't understand it at all.
But that didn't matter.
He would see it for himself.
Over the past few days of instruction, Deidara had gradually discovered his own shortcomings. He had also co to realize that the Mushroom Bomb was sothing far beyond his current reach.
Yet instead of frustration, he felt excitent.
This unfamiliar knowledge rekindled the feeling he'd had back when he first began studying explosion ninjutsu—diligent research, repeated practice, and constant breakthroughs.
His clay bombs were vulnerable to Lightning Release.
But the things created here?
Heh—Lightning Release would only make them even more magnificent.
Though he hadn't yet witnessed anything more powerful than his own techniques, this new knowledge had already allowed him to draw connections and deepen his understanding.
And now, a project with an even grander na lay before him.
The fact that Uncle Hirata valued it so highly made one thing clear—this was no trivial undertaking.
Here, Deidara had learned an important rule:
The stranger the na, the more extraordinary the result.
He really had to thank the Leader.
Without the Leader's guidance, he would never have ended up here.
Deidara followed Hirata out of the building.
The environnt at the base was strict and orderly, but there was one benefit—periodic vacations to the Oasis, with all expenses reimbursed by the Akatsuki.
They walked down a long street. Along the way, Hirata gathered several more people. Eventually, they arrived at an airfield.
Before long, Deidara—brimming with curiosity—boarded the aircraft.
He was no stranger to flight, but this was his first ti riding in a plane.
It was far more stable… and far more comfortable than he'd expected.
Looking out the window, the endless desert slowly retreated beneath them. Occasionally, patches of erald green appeared in the distance—that was the Oasis.
Not long after, they arrived at a small town.
The population was sparse, but the defenses were tight.
Through his perception alone, Deidara could sense the presence of multiple jōnin.
This place was clearly no ordinary town.
His anticipation only grew.
The settlent was built directly into the mountain rather than spread out like a normal residential area. At a glance, he could see many people wearing white and gray uniforms moving about.
"Co on, Deidara," Hirata said, unable to hide his excitent.
"I'll take you to et an old friend."
He grabbed Deidara by the arm and headed toward one of the buildings, drawing envious looks from several colleagues along the way.
As they entered, Deidara froze.
His pupils shrank.
That figure ahead—
Why did he look so familiar?
…Why did he look so much like Sasori?
(End of Chapter)
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