How to Survive as an Uchiha

An explosion blasted the gravel into the air, only to have it fall back down. The clattering sound resembled raindrops hitting the ground.

Kimimaro stared blankly at Deidara, who was pulling out another lump of clay from his bag.

There was a reason the two of them were together.

"Didn't you say you could blow him up?" Kimimaro pointed at Hiruko, who looked completely unscathed, and gave Deidara a stern look, as if accusing him of lying again.

"It would've worked on someone else," Deidara retorted indignantly. "If you're so capable, why don't you do it yourself?"

Kimimaro glanced back at Hiruko, who was slowly dragging itself toward them.

"Can't beat him," he admitted honestly. "We should just keep running. We're faster than him—if we get far enough, he won't be able to find us."

"You've said that before…" Although Deidara grumbled, his body obediently started running.

In no time, the two kids disappeared into the swirling dust.

Sasori watched the two figures retreat into the distance, calculating his next move.

The kid from Iwa didn't seem to have any special abilities. His skill with explosive clay was decent, but as a human puppet, he wasn't worth much.

The boy from Kiri, however, was excellent.

The Shikotsumyaku was an extraordinarily powerful bloodline limit, and the boy had been well-trained. His taijutsu exceeded the level of a genin, his reflexes were sharp, and he was adept at using his abilities.

Combined with the Iwa boy's support, the two had managed to hold him off until now.

Of course, the main reason was that he didn't want to damage the materials.

He hoped to acquire the Shikotsumyaku intact.

And these two kids—well, they were annoyingly good at running. It was as if they'd been chased since they were in the womb.

It's been four days now. That's about enough. Time to pick up the pace, Sasori thought.

The jonin from Suna would eventually catch up to him. No matter how well he knew the terrain, he was just one guy. He couldn't outrun them forever.

After that, the Fourth Kazekage himself might show up.

"Forget it. Damaged materials are better than none."

He decided to stop holding back.

He would acquire the Shikotsumyaku and then leave.

Hiruko suddenly picked up speed, and the sluggishness it had displayed earlier seemed to have been a mere illusion.

It kicked up even more sand and quickly closed the distance to Kimimaro.

"He's catching up again," Deidara said, recognizing the sound of Hiruko's approach.

While running, Deidara formed a one-handed seal and muttered a low chant.

In an instant, a massive explosion erupted behind them.

The shockwave propelled the two kids forward, and they skillfully used it to their advantage.

"Do you still have clay left?" Kimimaro asked.

"Almost out. Those landmine traps use up a lot of clay," Deidara replied calmly. "Don't worry. We're close to the destination now."

"I stole the most scrolls," Kimimaro reminded his temporary teammate. "If the Suna ninja ask, you need to admit it."

"Fine, fine," Deidara replied, annoyed. "You're so stingy!"

"Hmph."

Kimimaro thought to himself that if he hadn't decided not to stab Deidara with a bone spike when they first met, he wouldn't have teamed up with him at all.

This was a principle the Mizukage had taught him: If you can't kill someone, make them your ally.

Though he wasn't entirely sure what an "ally" was supposed to be. At the very least, it seemed to mean fighting together.

"Your ninjutsu isn't bad, but it's no match for my art," Sasori's voice echoed from above.

Deidara and Kimimaro dove left and right, rolling several times to dodge.

The spot where they had just been standing was struck by Hiruko, which landed like a meteor. The soft sand cushioned its landing, absorbing the impact.

But Sasori's chakra pressure was overwhelming for the two boys. The resulting shockwave was akin to a small explosion, sending them tumbling again.

Deidara, having rolled one extra time, immediately bounced to his feet. Pointing angrily at Hiruko, he shouted, "Don't casually throw around the word 'art'! You're degrading it!"

"Hmm?" Sasori, who had been about to attack, was intrigued by the boy's strong conviction.

"A brat like you, with such a strong belief in art? Interesting…" Sasori's voice grew lower. "Alright, I'll give you a chance. Tell me—what is your art?"

"Art is an explosion!" Deidara blurted out his catchphrase without hesitation.

But Sasori was disappointed.

He had thought he'd encountered a kindred spirit, but this kid was just a child with no real understanding of art.

In this world, there was no one who could truly compete with him in the realm of art.

In the end, only loneliness could accompany him.

"How dull. The Demolitions Unit is nothing but barbarians. To think I assumed you understood art." Hiruko's tail rose menacingly. "Art is eternal beauty. My puppet techniques are the perfect blend of art and craftsmanship. Ordinary people can never comprehend the magnificence of my creations."

"You don't get it. True beauty in art lies in the fleeting moment, the ultimate peak of that instant. Only explosions can capture that!" Deidara, despite knowing he couldn't win, refused to compromise his artistic stance and shouted with all his might.

"Is that so? You've gone astray. I've changed my mind—I'll preserve your consciousness so you can understand the true essence of art."

"Kill me if you want, but I will never give up on my art!"

Kimimaro, who had been prepared for battle, was bewildered as he watched the two of them chat.

What were they talking about?

What were they doing?

Why did it look more and more like the two of them were on the same side?

Bones began to protrude from his body.

So that's how it is… It all makes sense now. I've failed to live up to Yagura-sama's expectations.

Unwillingness filled his heart. The Mizukage needed him so much, and yet here he was, about to die in this place.

But in the face of life and death, this was the moment to fully embody his resolve!

He launched himself toward Deidara.

More detestable than a powerful foe was a deceiver.

Hiruko's tail intercepted him, sweeping him back to where he started.

Bones emerged from Kimimaro's arms as he crossed them to block the tail, which failed to penetrate his defenses.

Mid-air, he twisted to land steadily, sliding backward with the force.

His gaze was filled with disappointment.

"Don't rush to die," Sasori said.

There was still plenty of time.

This Iwa brat had fully piqued his interest.

---

The navigator from Suna was walking far too slowly, and Masashi was growing increasingly impatient.

The men of the Land of Wind—weren't they supposed to move as swiftly as the wind itself?

To truly know someone, you had to recognize their chakra first.

He wasn't sure if other sensory ninjas had this habit, but he always remembered people by their chakra.

To truly know someone, you had to recognize their chakra first.

In the world of shinobi, everyone could use transformation jutsu. Faces and even genders could be fake, but chakra? Chakra was an honest fellow.

The familiar chakra belonged to Deidara and Kimimaro.

And there was another one—a less familiar presence. He knew the chakra but hadn't seen its owner in person.

It belonged to the troublemaker he had slapped away earlier. No, he couldn't be called a mere troublemaker anymore. Now, he was a murderer.

Unless, of course, he hadn't harmed any Konoha ninjas. In that case, he'd still just be a troublemaker.

Judging by the quality and volume of his chakra, it was fitting to label him Kage-level.

Masashi stopped in his tracks and casually grabbed the guide by the arm.

"Masashi-sama?" The Suna ninja tensed up, assuming the worst.

It wasn't the potential appearance of the murderer that made him nervous, but the infamous unpredictability of the White Ghost standing beside him. Considering he wasn't a Konoha ninja, if a fight broke out, he figured he'd be the first casualty, just to set the mood.

Oblivious to the inner turmoil of the guide, Masashi fixed him with a serious look and said: "I've located the enemy. Stay here, don't move. I'll be right back."

"Understood, Masashi-sama. Take your time, I'll wait right here!" The Suna ninja's face lit up with joy.

Thank goodness, it wasn't happening here. He had been scared for no reason.

Masashi nodded, and in the next instant, vanished in a blur.

He had activated his Lightning-Style Body Flicker.

Now, this speed was more like it.

The desert's scenery was monotonous, the surroundings barely changing, but the chakra signatures were rapidly approaching.

Before long, three black dots appeared in his line of sight.

He activated his Sharingan.

The sight of Hiruko, the puppet, came into view. Its design was too distinctive—sure enough, it was Sasori.

In the original timeline, this puppet was easily destroyed by Sakura.

But in truth, it was a human puppet, Sasori's first human puppet known to the public.

Through the Sharingan, he clearly saw two distinct chakras within the puppet. No doubt about it, this was indeed a human puppet, capable of using the ninjutsu its original owner had mastered.

His approach did not go unnoticed by the three individuals present.

The happiest among them was Deidara. To him, this meant his artistic journey could continue.

This enemy was utterly insane—completely deranged!

The two had debated for ages, but neither had managed to convince the other.

The reason? The other guy's logic was watertight—a hardcore devotee of his twisted beliefs!

Sasori shared Deidara's view on this matter.

At this point, he genuinely didn't want to kill this iwa child anymore. He couldn't even bring himself to turn the boy into a human puppet.

This kid was serious about art—not just dabbling in it!

Even though he had taken a wrong turn, his dedication, his pure love for art, was genuine. Sasori acknowledged that.

Such a person, with such a mindset, was the perfect companion for his pursuit of eternal art.

Turning him into a human puppet would only rob him of the ability to further explore the world of art. As a senior on the artistic path, he had no qualms about guiding a true seeker like this. He wanted to see even greater possibilities.

He was not alone in his path.

This world, with all its trivial and boring aspects, found meaning only through art.

---

When Masashi arrived at the scene, he was met with an incredibly bizarre sight.

"You cling to your ridiculous ideas because no one in Iwa understands art. You're blindly groping in the dark in that wasteland. Come with me! I'll teach you!" Sasori's tone was deadly serious.

But he had not ignored Masashi; rather, his confidence in his own strength and his love for art made him unwilling to leave just yet.

Finding a prodigy like this was no easy task.

"Not a chance! Don't look down on me just because I'm young!" Deidara snapped. "Eternity means stagnation. How can something stagnant stir the soul?"

"..."

Why were these two having a philosophical debate now?

This wasn't at all what he had anticipated…

His gaze shifted to the side, where Kimimaro sat on the ground, sulking with a pouty expression.

The scene was undeniably strange and completely offbeat, but Masashi was a man of the world. Using the intelligence he had gathered, he pieced the puzzle together in his mind, roughly reconstructing the events leading up to this point.

"Sasori, I expected no less from you," he sighed. "Enough chatter. You're not taking this kid today."

"Oh?" Sasori turned Hiruko to face him. "White Ghost—I've heard of you."

"Then you have my sympathies," Masashi smirked. "Is there anything in this world, besides the art you revere, that brings you solace?"

"Solace?" Sasori's tone dripped with disdain. "This child is unique, as I suspected. I will take him with me."

"And what would you do with him?" Masashi recalled the original timeline's dynamics between the two. "Your views on art couldn't be more different."

"The fact that he has the heart for it is enough. With passion, anything is possible."

"You're not trying to snatch him away from the Tsuchikage, are you?"

"The Tsuchikage isn't fit to teach him."

"Is that so?" Masashi's gaze flicked to the nostalgic Akatsuki cloak on Hiruko. "The great Sasori of the Red Sand, reduced to joining a little group like Akatsuki. Do you, trapped in your idealism, still have what it takes to train a disciple?"

Akatsuki—it was essentially a gathering place for all the chūnibyō of the ninja world. Without a sufficient degree of delusion, even entering the group would leave one unable to find anyone to talk to.

Under the black robes adorned with red clouds, each member embodied high-coldness, viciousness, cruelty, and violence, all in pursuit of a rainbow after the storm.

It was an unparalleled hub for idealists.

Sasori's life had been devoid of warmth.

He lost his parents too young to fully experience their love. Without addressing the darker parts of his nature, the rigid system of Suna had shaped his withdrawn and lonely personality, leading to a gradual distortion. Only through killing and cruelty could he find a sliver of solace, which gave rise to his obsession with eternal beauty.

Whether or not it was tragic, Suna's education system was certainly flawed.

But Sasori had never entirely detached from his emotions. Even as a puppet, his soul remained warm.

There were too many ninjas like him in the shinobi world.

Children who lost their loved ones bore unimaginable pain. When their twisted personalities were neither understood nor treated with kindness, they lost touch with their humanity.

It was this kind of world that gave rise to Akatsuki.

And this kind of world gave rise to the current Obito.

"I think I understand your intentions," Masashi said, forming a seal with his hands. "But I'll say it again—no one leaves here with him. And those you've taken must be returned."