The smoke from the explosion had not yet cleared when Itachi leaped from its epicenter, seemingly unharmed. Deidara was startled for a moment, then a confident smirk spread across his face. "Not dead yet? You've got some skill! But that's as far as you go! Hmmph!"

As Itachi landed, a giant clay centipede erupted from the ground beneath his feet, its segments wrapping around him, binding him tightly to the spot.

"Heh, now you have nowhere to run!" Seeing Itachi completely under his control, Deidara taunted him with a relaxed air. "For all your arrogance, this is all you amount to. How disappointing!"

He formed a seal with one hand, leaning forward. "It's over! Hmph!"

Deidara opened his mouth, about to shout the command to detonate, but Itachi's calm voice stopped him cold. "Deidara, perhaps you should take a closer look at your own situation."

"Huh?"

Staring into Itachi's scarlet, mysterious eyes, Deidara suddenly understood. The next moment, he found that the clay centipede was not wrapped around Itachi, but around himself.

"This… how is this possible?!" If Itachi had not broken the illusion, Deidara would have likely died without ever realizing the truth.

Hoshigaki Kisame chuckled. "Hehehe… that was a close call. I've never seen what someone looks like when they self-destruct."

From within his puppet, Sasori of the Red Sand added dryly, "As expected. I knew this brat would die an early death."

The clay centipede on his body dissolved back into the earth. Deidara, covered in a cold sweat, was in shock. "An illusion? Damn it, when did he…?"

Kisame explained, "From the very beginning, of course. The moment you looked at Itachi's Sharingan, you were already caught."

Deidara was silent. He hadn't expected his opponent to be so powerful. In front of this man, he was nothing more than a toy.

At that moment, a ray of light from the setting sun pierced through the hole in the cave wall. Deidara looked over and saw Itachi's figure, silhouetted against the dazzling light, standing as still and perfect as a painting.

Deidara was stunned.

"So… beautiful."

Could it be… is this what art truly is?

For the first time in his life, Deidara questioned his own artistic philosophy.

"No! That's not right!"

Snapping back to his senses, Deidara covered his head in frustration and laughed at his own weakness. "I was actually mesmerized by someone else's technique. That is art? You must be kidding! I will not admit it. Art is the beauty of a fleeting moment! Hmph!"

A black robe with red clouds was thrown at his feet.

Kisame waved a dismissive hand. "Kid, you lose. As we agreed, you will now join the Akatsuki."

"Fine, fine! I accept my loss!"

Deidara picked up the cloak and slung it around his shoulders. "Let me make one thing clear! I will never give up my pursuit of true art! Hmph!"

Sasori replied, "Do as you wish. Just be sure to complete the tasks assigned by the organization. And for the record, your so-called art is boring. True art is eternal." The puppet master waved his hand, tossing a ring to Deidara. Deidara caught it and opened his palm. It was a simple ring, engraved with the character for "Blue."

"Tsk! What do you know?" Deidara had no desire to argue with Sasori. He slipped the ring onto his finger, then glared at Itachi. "Don't worry, I'll remember you! From now on, I swear I will never fall for your illusion again! Hmph!"

Uchiha Itachi replied, his voice even, "Now that you are a member of our organization, I do not think I will have a reason to use my illusions on you again. Unless, of course, you are looking for trouble."

Unconvinced, Deidara immediately shot back, "What did you say?! Are you looking for another fight?"

"That's enough, kid!" Sasori rolled his eyes at him. "You and I are a team now. It's time for us to go on our mission."

At the same time, within Uchiha Madara's secret base, a subtle change was occurring. Ever since his eyes had grown back, Madara had become more and more restless. It was dreadfully boring to stay at home all the time, letting his subordinates carry out his grand plans. Fortunately, his son Shiro was with him. Otherwise, he likely would have left immediately, even though his strength had not yet returned to its peak.

"Father," Shiro asked one day, his tone innocent but his question profound, "you always ask the nannies to go out and work on your plans, all so that one day, everyone in the world will enter a perfect dream. Will I be in that dream too?"

"Of course, my good boy," Madara nodded, his voice full of love.

"Then can you please not let me fall asleep? The people in my dreams are nice, but they aren't real. I don't want to become like that."

"Silly child," Madara chuckled. "In your dream, everyone around you will be kind to you. You can do anything you wish."

"But this is my life right now. Why should I dream of nothingness? Maybe one day, I would wake up from that dream. Isn't it more pleasant to hold you in my arms every day, here in reality?"

"That is.....?"

Shiro's words struck Madara with the force of a blow, leaving him momentarily stunned. The boy was right. It was true. The reality of his past had been a great disappointment, a source of endless pain. But now, since Shiro's arrival, he had been truly, undeniably happy. Sometimes, he even felt that his current life was the illusion, for it was too perfect, too full of a joy he had long since forgotten.

Why pursue a false happiness, he thought, when a real one already exists right here?

In that moment, Madara's grand, world-altering goal suddenly, and subtly, began to change.