In particular, he noticed Deidara’s expression—like he’d just swallowed sothing foul—and countless guesses flashed through Ōnoki’s mind.
But before he could speak, Deidara blurted out first.
"Old man, send them all back!"
"I already said it—I’m not here to cause trouble. I ca back to Iwagakure!"
"No matter what I say, these idiots won’t believe . You’d better manage your own people!"
Hearing this, Ōnoki glanced down at the hundreds of Iwa-nin who had gathered. Every one of them wore a fierce expression, glaring at Deidara with hostility.
"What are you shouting about, brat!? You think Iwagakure is your ho that you can co and go from whenever you like? You betrayed the village, and still you act so arrogant—walking back in openly like this! Do you think being a ninja is child’s play!?"
"That’s right! You brat—back then you blew up things all day long! Just because you blew up the ceiling of my house in the middle of the night, I was hospitalized for three months! Why did you co back now!?"
"And you say the Ninja Association canceled your bounty—how co none of us heard of that? Is this true? I’m a registered Jonin with the Association! I checked the wanted list yesterday—your na, Deidara, is still on it!"
"Lord Tsuchikage, please restrain this wicked disciple of yours and lock him in Iwagakure’s prison! A man without the Will of Stone has no right to return here!"
Hundreds of Iwa-nin raised their voices, demanding Ōnoki capture this traitor imdiately.
For a mont, Ōnoki truly didn’t know what to do.
He had imagined all kinds of possibilities—but never that Deidara would co back wishing to return to Iwagakure.
Especially given Deidara’s personality. As airheaded as he was with explosions, he never lied. He was always blunt, speaking exactly what he thought.
But now the crowd had escalated it to the level of "Will of Stone," and Ōnoki couldn’t easily oppose it.
After all, the Will of Stone was a concept handed down from the First Tsuchikage—core doctrine for training village shinobi. As Tsuchikage, how could he openly violate it?
Helpless, he sighed and floated higher into the air so the Iwa-nin below couldn’t see his expression. He rose to Deidara’s altitude and deliberately cleared his throat.
"Cough, cough!"
"Deidara, you wicked disciple—do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Iwagakure is a large family—a collective. You once defected and beca a missing-nin. Your cri is unforgivable. However, considering that you express the desire to return..."
"As long as you surrender, I will spare your life."
Ōnoki’s righteous declaration imdiately made the Iwa-nin cheer below.
They, of course, couldn’t see the frantic winks, subtle hand seals, and Anbu sign language Ōnoki was using behind his back—standard covert communication that the Iwa Anbu used regularly.
Ōnoki even felt a spark of pride. Good thing I made Kurotsuchi teach Deidara Anbu sign language... it finally ca in handy!
Unfortunately, Deidara had absolutely no idea what the old man was doing. He took all the gestures as provocation. His face flushed red with anger.
"You old bastard! You want to surrender so you can ’spare my life’!?"
"You’re already halfway in the grave—what the hell are you bragging about!?"
"You stand there pretending to be righteous? You think I want to co back!?"
"You’re even making faces at ! What’s with that smug old-man expression!?"
"I’d rather NOT return to this damned Iwagakure!"
After shouting, Deidara turned sharply, ready to leave.
Ōnoki panicked instantly.
You brat! Why can’t you follow the script!? Didn’t I tell Kurotsuchi to teach you Anbu sign language? How do you not understand even THIS much!?
Ah... what a coincidence.
Back then, Kurotsuchi was still a kid and only knew a little herself.
And Deidara... well...
Explosions > studying.
Whatever he learned went in one ear and out the other.
Rembering it? Impossible.
Seeing Deidara trying to "escape," the Iwa-nin began shouting again:
"Lord Tsuchikage, he’s trying to flee! Capture him!"
"We will NEVER allow a traitor to roam free!"
"Evil must be punished!"
"Lord Tsuchikage—do it!!"
Cornered without a better option, Ōnoki had to act. If Deidara left now, he might never return.
He brought his hands together—thumbs and fingertips touching—aiming his palms toward the clay bird beneath Deidara’s feet.
"Brat! Don’t you dare run!"
He shouted, but his real thoughts were completely different:
Deidara, co back already. If you need to talk, we can talk nicely!
Deidara suddenly paused mid-flight.
He rembered how calculating the old man normally was.
Could those gestures earlier have been... hints?
But when he turned to look—
He saw the glowing white cube forming in Ōnoki’s palms, aid straight at him.
Instant fury.
"FUCK YOU, old bastard!"
"I thought maybe you were hinting at sothing with all that stupid gesturing!"
"But the mont I look back—you use Dust Release on !?"
"What a waste of my brain cells! Those cells are for ART!!"
Ōnoki froze, utterly speechless.
Below him, the Iwa-nin gleefully fueled the fire.
"You deserve it! You think that exploding-brain of yours can understand sign language? You never learned it!"
"That’s right! You’re a hypocrite! So narcissistic! You really think Iwagakure can’t live without you!?"
"So funny—are you that desperate for love? You even mistook Lord Tsuchikage’s scolding for so hidden ssage? What are you, an ORPHAN?"
The word orphan stabbed straight into Deidara’s heart.
His breathing stuttered.
His chest tightened sharply.
His heartbeat stumbled painfully.
Ōnoki exploded with rage at the Iwa-nin below.
"Shut your mouths! No matter what he is, he is still MY disciple—Ōnoki’s disciple! It’s not your place to insult him!"
"And you have NO RIGHT to blasphe his father—who once served as Captain #1 of the Iwagakure Demolition Corps, sacrificing his life for this village!"
"This is a violation of the Will of Stone!"
Deidara froze.
And in that instant—
he suddenly understood everything.
The old man actually... wanted him back.
Even if he didn’t understand the gestures, he understood the words.
He really did.
But he also understood—
This place wasn’t ant for him anymore.
Even if he loved this village deeply...
he could never forget his father.
As a child, he molded clay into small animals and sent them soaring into the night sky—detonating them into bright, beautiful fireworks.
He wanted to show his father.
But his father was gone.
No one remained to appreciate his "art," except himself.
No one rembered the crude, abstract, adorable little clay creations—
or the fireworks burned into his mory.
He never understood why his father, who gave everything for this village, was forgotten.
So afterward, he blew up fireworks in the night sky again and again—
Just like his father once did.
He wanted to share that beauty with others.
He wanted them to rember those who sacrificed themselves.
But all he received were curses, disgust, rejection.
Dad... were they really worth protecting? I... I don’t know...
But I’m tired. This place isn’t for ... (｡•́︿•̀｡)
...
...
...
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