Iwagakure, Tsuchikage Building.
Ōnoki was frantically searching for something in his office. After a long while, he floated upward, one hand supporting his aching back.
He extended his arm and tossed a brass key to Deidara, who had just been released from prison and was now reporting in.
"This is the key to the archives. The technical documents on Ninjutsu refinement have been unsealed for you. As for anything else, if you see documents with a seal, don't touch them. Those are still classified. Understood?"
Ōnoki spoke seriously, clearly worried Deidara would do something reckless again and cause another headache.
Deidara raised a hand, caught the key, and stuffed it into his ninja tool pouch with a sigh. "Got it. I'm not some clueless idiot, hmm!"
Then, he pulled out a scroll and tossed it to Ōnoki. "Here's the training method for the 'Explosive Mouth.'"
Clap!
Ōnoki caught the scroll, opened it, and scanned the contents. His eyes widened in amazement. This brat really had imagination. The body-modification method he'd created was something most people wouldn't dare consider—completely reckless.
But if it worked, it was incredibly powerful. Deidara himself was proof—his Exploding Clay had become exponentially more practical in battle.
Brilliant brain, terrible personality…
Ōnoki looked at the unkempt Deidara and sighed again. He had the disposition of a complete scoundrel!
With a wave of his hand, Ōnoki dismissed him. This traitorous disciple was truly a headache—impossible to discipline properly.
Deidara didn't care in the slightest. He casually walked out of the Tsuchikage's office and headed to the entrance of the dust-covered archive room.
This was Iwagakure's highest-security archive. Inside were countless Ninjutsu, secret techniques, Ninja World histories, rare records—you name it.
Naturally, the defense level here was extreme. Just walking down the corridor, Deidara could feel at least a dozen hostile gazes aimed at him from the shadows!
Once he reached the door, it was even more intense. A few of those gazes felt like invisible knives scraping across his neck.
One wrong move, and they'd swarm in to kill him without hesitation.
This was the elite security of Iwagakure's top archive.
Deidara had no plans to challenge them. These were experienced Anbu, and though he could handle a dozen of them in combat, provoking them here was pointless and exhausting.
So, he calmly pulled out the brass key and a certificate with Ōnoki's seal and displayed them clearly.
Once confirmed, the majority of the hidden presences retreated like receding tides.
Still, one or two eyes remained—standard procedure. Even with clearance, at least two Anbu were always assigned to monitor every person who entered the reading room.
Deidara inserted the key. As the door opened, a wave of black Jutsu marks flashed across the frame—likely part of a defensive formation.
It made sense. A regular door couldn't possibly guard something this valuable. Only advanced Ninjutsu formations would do the job. Anyone trying to force entry would probably be trapped or killed instantly.
Deidara entered smoothly. His eyes lit up.
He immediately noticed an entire section—ten whole rows of shelves—dedicated to explosion-related techniques.
To Deidara, this was like a 30-year-old virgin stepping into a women-only paradise. His eyes went bloodshot with excitement as he dove straight in, quickly browsing categories and burying himself in study.
With a mind sharpened by two lifetimes, Deidara's comprehension ability was far beyond even genius-level ninja.
Most of these documents would appear as cryptic gibberish to ordinary ninja. Deidara, on the other hand, could commit them to memory after a single glance.
The second read would cement the understanding. The third would allow him to deduce hidden principles and applications—thanks to his background in his previous life as an ammunition and explosives expert.
Rather than feeling tedious, these scrolls were fascinating.
The combination of different-world theories and chakra-based bomb-making was utterly captivating.
This blend of deep interest and rare talent made Deidara the explosion-obsessed maniac he was.
He read like a fish in water—devouring document after document with unhinged intensity.
He didn't bother trying to fully understand everything right away. His goal was to memorize as much as possible in these seven days—his photographic memory would take care of the rest later.
The two Anbu watching him witnessed something surreal.
Deidara was flipping pages at inhuman speed—averaging one second per page, maybe two at most.
The two masked observers exchanged glances of disbelief. What was this guy even doing?
If he was reading, it was too fast. But if he wasn't, why was he even here?
Still, they said nothing. Their orders were to monitor, not question.
So Deidara flipped on, and time flowed like a river—moonrise to sunset.
For the full seven days, Deidara was completely immersed—often forgetting to eat or sleep.
Worried he might collapse, the two Anbu took it upon themselves to feed him—prying open his mouth and feeding him by hand.
If not for their intervention, Deidara might have passed out from starvation.
In this strange but effective routine, seven days passed in the blink of an eye.
"Deidara, your reading time is up. You can't remain here any longer." One of the Anbu gently tapped his shoulder.
He did it carefully—after all, Deidara had barely slept, and a harsh tap might have sent him into shock.
"Time's up? Got it, hmm." Deidara turned around and nodded.
His face was ghostly pale, eyes sunken with heavy dark circles. He looked like a corpse.
The Anbu frowned, concerned he might collapse on the spot. "Do you need assistance walking back?"
Deidara waved lazily. "No need."
The Anbu was about to insist—but then something caught his eye.
Deidara brought his index and middle fingers together.
Shadow Clone Jutsu hand seal!
Though originally a Konoha technique, Shadow Clone Jutsu had spread across the Great Nations during the Second Ninja World War. Each village had collected and developed variants.
But that wasn't the shocking part.
What stunned the Anbu was the realization that this Deidara… had been a Shadow Clone all along!
For seven days, it had been a clone flipping pages—and they hadn't even noticed.
"No, don't—if you release it now, the feedback—!"
The Anbu's words came too late.
Deidara muttered, "Dispel!"
Somewhere on the outskirts of Iwagakure, a terrible, inhuman scream erupted.
Those who heard it felt sorrow. Those who saw it felt horror. No one knew what kind of torment could produce such an ungodly cry.
Inside the archive, the Anbu's hand froze midair.
These kids nowadays… they're insane.
To dare to absorb seven days of fatigue and mental overload in one burst—something even hardened Anbu would never try.
Meanwhile, in a tiny shack on the village's edge, Deidara collapsed to the floor, holding his head in agony.
Seven days of accumulated stress and sleep deprivation hit him like a tsunami.
If not for his strengthened soul from living two lives, he might've died on the spot.
Even so, it overwhelmed him. He passed out immediately.
Two days later, Deidara woke up from his coma.
He groaned, propped himself up slowly, thoughts still hazy. Hours passed before he could process everything he had absorbed.
Then, suddenly, he covered his face, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
And then—it happened.
"Hahahahahaha—"
A maniacal Uchiha-style laugh rang through the air.
"I've finally cracked it! C3 Number 18—and even more bomb types—here I come!!"
End of the Chapter.