Chapter 40: Haku

"What a poor country."

"I heard some big-shot tycoon named Gato rules this place. Why don't we relieve him of his ill-gotten gains for the organization? We've got four days to kill anyway," Deidara suggested.

"It's not that simple, Deidara."

Sasori glanced at him, his tone carrying a trace of warning.

"These tycoons are different from the usual rogue-nin or wanderer groups we deal with. Their connections are deeply entwined with political leaders, nobles, and even daimyo. If you kill one of them, their assets will simply fall into the hands of their collaborators."

"And if you target them, you risk earning the ire of all their allies. With their vast networks and resources, the level of danger could rival that of a bounty issued by the Five Great Shinobi Nations."

Deidara paused, digesting Sasori's words. He realized Sasori was right. In the shinobi world, daimyo and nobles still held significant power. Even the appointment of Kage had to be reported to them, albeit as a mere formality. This alone demonstrated their lofty status.

After spending another day preparing clay explosives, Deidara felt satisfied with his progress and decided to stroll through the streets. However, the town had little to offer—a few stalls selling farm produce and simple food. As for jewelry, trinkets, or entertainment? Forget it. In a place this impoverished, anything beyond basic necessities was a luxury.

Bored, Deidara wandered out of town, ambling aimlessly until—

Hmm?

The sharp sound of senbon piercing wood caught his attention. He followed the noise and discovered a long-haired beauty, only slightly younger than himself, practicing senbon throws in a grassy field.

Wait… isn't that Haku?

Deidara observed for a moment before it clicked. This person was stunningly beautiful—but was it really a guy?

"Who's there?"

Haku turned toward him, his voice soft despite the questioning tone.

"Ah, sorry!"

"Did I disturb you?" Deidara emerged from behind the tree, his eyes instinctively drawn to Haku's neck, trying to spot an Adam's apple.

Perhaps feeling the intensity of Deidara's gaze, Haku shrank back slightly, his high-collared outfit frustratingly concealing the evidence.

"Who are you?" Haku asked cautiously. His posture suggested vigilance, unsurprising given Deidara's distinctive black cloak adorned with red clouds—an unmistakable marker of an infamous organization.

"I'm Deidara."

Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, Deidara smiled.

"Just passing by. I heard the sound of your senbon practice and got curious."

To his surprise, Haku's guarded expression softened, and he even offered a shy, gentle smile.

"Forgive my poor skills. I must become stronger—I have someone I must protect."

"Eh? Why are you looking at me like that?" Haku tilted his head, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Deidara stroked his chin and blurted out the question of the century:

"I'm wondering—are you a guy or a girl?"

"Wha—?!"

Haku's hands flew to his mouth, clearly caught off guard. His face flushed as he stammered, "Who asks something like that out of the blue?!"

Haku's embarrassed expression was almost too much, making him look so delicate and endearing that Deidara had to resist the urge to laugh.

"I'm really curious. Can you tell me?" Deidara pressed, his tone earnest.

Seeing that Deidara wasn't joking, Haku fidgeted awkwardly. Perhaps sensing that this strange person wouldn't relent without an answer, Haku hesitated before speaking:

"I'm—"

"Haku!"

A gruff male voice interrupted. Emerging from the trees was a shirtless man with white bandages wrapped around his mouth, a massive sword strapped to his back.

Zabuza Momochi, former member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist and second wielder of the Executioner's Blade. Having defected from Kirigakure after a failed assassination attempt on the Fourth Mizukage, Zabuza was a man of contradictions—cold and ruthless on the surface, yet hiding a softer side.

"Who are you?" Zabuza growled, gripping his blade as he eyed Deidara warily. Known as the Demon of the Hidden Mist, Zabuza didn't take chances with strangers, especially not suspicious ones.

Deidara scowled at the man. 

Great, now he's ruined my chance of solving the mystery of the century. Do you even realize the sin you've committed, Zabuza?

"Answer me, brat, or my blade will cut you in half!" Zabuza threatened, his killing intent palpable.

Deidara sighed, resigning himself to the situation. He couldn't deny Zabuza's strength—it would be more beneficial to recruit him.

"Well, Zabuza, I've heard of you. Here's a chance to join our organization."

Zabuza snorted, unimpressed. "A brat like you recruiting me? Do you even know who you're talking to?"

At only thirteen years old, Deidara's offer sounded ludicrous to someone like Zabuza.

"Guess I'll have to beat some sense into you," Deidara muttered, his hands diving into his clay pouches.

"Big talk!" Zabuza charged, swinging his massive blade with ease.

Years ago, Deidara might've struggled against someone of Zabuza's caliber. But now, a mere Elite Jonin wasn't much of a threat unless they had the advantage of surprise or a hard counter to his style.

"C2: Raptor!"

A pack of clay raptors, each the size of a person, materialized and lunged at Zabuza.

"What the hell are these things?"

Zabuza frowned, slicing through one of the white creatures with ease.

"Is that it? Just some fragile little tricks?"

Deidara smirked. "You haven't seen anything yet."

"Art is an explosion!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The surviving raptors detonated in a chain of fiery blasts, forcing Zabuza to retreat, now covered in dust and slightly singed.

Deidara grinned. "How do you like my art, eh?"

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