Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Written for the livejournal community 50shinobi, where I claimed Deidara. This is written for prompt #1 'This is my way of the ninja'.

To him, it didn't really matter what Sasori said. He knew what art was, and it wasn't those lifeless puppets, dancing around to Sasori's silent song. Art was the fleeting moment, the explosion as everything came undone, and no one could convince him otherwise.

Still enjoying argueing, no, debating, with him--the chance of proving that he was right was too much of a temptation, and just thinking about seeing the redhead actually passionate about something was reason enough to endure jabs at his definition of art.

There was one thing he gained from these debates, and that was why Sasori believed that his definition so very much, what it actually meant to him. Deidara would never admit it, but it bothered him. He had no idea what it was to him, only that it was, in essence, his entire life, devoted to making art. But not even that was enough for him.

When Sasori died, the questions didn't stop. If anything, they increased, taunting him, bothering him at all times of the day until even Tobi's antics were a welcome relief.

And then, suddenly, he knew. It came to him while fighitng Itachi's younger brother, seeing those Sharingan eyes. He remembered Itachi and Kisame talking about the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki, and they mentioning a certain belief of his. He hadn't paid much attention then, but now--

As he prepared to go out in the biggest gesture of his art yet, he saw the Uchiha asking him why with those cursed Sharingan eyes, why would he do this.

He grinned manically, and silently answered--

'Because, this is my way of the ninja.'