The morning sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, and Satoru lounged lazily on a tree branch. The warmth seeped into his body, a rare moment of peace amid the chaos of Akatsuki's daily routine.
Step one complete, he thought, a satisfied smile on his face.
Step two... eh, I'll figure it out tomorrow.
His pale blue eyes narrowed contentedly.
Suddenly, a loud explosion shattered the tranquility.
"Bang!"
White smoke engulfed the area around the tree trunk, obscuring Satoru's figure.
From a safe distance, Deidara grinned smugly, hands busily shaping clay.
"Well, that's that," he said with a chuckle.
"Though I still don't get why they paired me with someone so utterly unartistic."
Deidara sneered, tossing another clay creation into the air.
"At least now I don't have to worry about him ruining the team dynamic, huh?"
"Your art?"
A calm voice came from behind him.
"It's terrible."
Deidara froze mid-motion, his black eyes widening in shock.
Impossible! I confirmed the explosion—there's no way he's behind me!
Whirling around, he hurled a lump of clay at the source of the voice.
"You dare insult my art?! Die in my masterpiece!"
To Deidara's utter disbelief, Satoru caught the clay mid-air with a casual flick of his wrist.
Pale blue eyes studied the object in his hand with curious amusement.
"Hmm... what's this?"
"Caught my detonator, huh?" Deidara sneered, trying to mask his surprise.
"Well, let's see you handle this!"
With a sharp hand seal, he activated the clay.
"Boom!"
Or so he thought.
When the smoke cleared, Satoru was standing unharmed, casually holding... a black feather?
"What's this?" he muttered, squinting at the feather in mock seriousness.
"Exploding Raven Feather Summoning?"
Deidara stared, his mouth agape.
His explosion had failed?
"How... how did you...?"
His mind raced. Did Satoru somehow analyze and counter his technique? No, that wasn't possible—they'd barely fought before.
"You—don't give my technique such a ridiculous name!" Deidara roared, his indignation snapping him out of his stupor.
"And what kind of unartistic taste is that, anyway?"
"Unartistic?" Satoru blinked, looking genuinely confused.
"I thought it was vivid and creative. It's... artistic, isn't it?"
Deidara's face flushed red with frustration.
"How could something so trivial be called art?" he shouted.
"Art is an explosion! Beauty in the blink of an eye!"
Satoru held his chin thoughtfully, nodding as if deeply considering Deidara's words.
"An explosion, huh? That's an interesting perspective."
He paused, his eyes glinting mischievously.
"But don't you think it's missing something?"
Deidara froze, caught off guard.
"Missing something?"
"Of course," Satoru replied matter-of-factly. "Art needs... surprise."
With that, the two launched into an intense discussion about the philosophy of art, temporarily forgetting the original reason for their confrontation.
Later that day, members of Akatsuki returned to the base after completing their assignments.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
A series of explosions rattled the area, sending sand and debris flying.
Two figures stumbled out of the smoke—Hidan and Sasori, both looking worse for wear.
"What the hell was that?!" Hidan bellowed, his scorched robe in tatters.
The usually stoic Sasori brushed soot off his puppet body, his narrowed eyes scanning the area.
"Who set this trap?"
Their gazes landed squarely on Deidara, who stood sheepishly nearby.
"It wasn't me!" Deidara blurted, throwing up his hands.
"But those are your clay bombs!" Hidan growled, pointing an accusatory finger.
Deidara stammered, trying to explain. "I... uh... was discussing art with the new guy earlier, but I swear I didn't set this one!"
The other Akatsuki members looked on, some chuckling at the spectacle.
"Figures," Kakuzu said with a smirk. "Amateurs."
But their amusement didn't last long. One by one, their eyes drifted toward Satoru, who was sitting nearby, completely unbothered.
"Hey, what's this?" Satoru muttered, picking up a piece of paper that had fallen in the commotion.
Pale blue eyes scanned the page, and his expression lit up.
"Oh, it's an Akatsuki application form."
As he read further, his gaze froze on one particular line.
"Height: 175 cm... scratched out and changed to 185 cm?"
He glanced up at Obito, who had just staggered into the room after stepping on yet another trap.
"So you're only 175?" Satoru asked with an innocent smile.
The room went silent.
Every eye turned toward Obito, whose shoulders stiffened under their scrutiny.
"..."
Obito said nothing, silently lying back down as if accepting his fate.
Meanwhile, Konan exchanged a glance with Pain, her expression unreadable.
What have we brought into this organization?
Pain sighed deeply.
"...Prepare for the next meeting," he muttered, walking away.
Across the room, Satoru stretched leisurely, enjoying the chaos he had unintentionally—or perhaps very intentionally—caused.
"Akatsuki's kind of fun," he murmured to himself.
His pale blue eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Let's see how long it takes them to realize."
To be continued...