With the gentle whisper wind ruffling his short hair, tickling his forehead, Obito blinks open his eyes and jerks the moment the feeling of resting his cheek against a hardwood table comes rushing back to him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and sits back up, his back complaining when he does. There are sounds of birds calling from outside the window beside him, and Obito rubs his right cheek as he turns to look out of the transparent pane, wincing when his neck complains from having slept facing one direction for a period of time.

The moment is lost to him, as expected from anyone when waking up from an unexpected nap. Obito licks his lip, catching any saliva that might have leaked from his lips for pressing half his face against the table. The right side of his face feels numb, too.

A sudden moment of panic arises inside of him when he realizes he's not wearing his mask. He takes a deep breath and feels his heartbeat raise. But when Obito looks around, soaking in the scenery of a classroom around him, with classmates chattering with one another over their lunch boxes, Obito's panic dies as quickly as it raises.

No, it is all a dream. Obito is known for having strange, strange dreams. He's not even surprised that he had one just now. Standing up, Obito rubs his face again and shakes his head, trying to get the last of the lingering sleep from clouding his head.

What a silly dream, a world full of supernatural 'ninja' with powers that look like they came out of some superhero comic book.

Craning his neck, Obito peers over various students' shoulders, looking for someone but he cannot seem to remember who he is looking for. Shaking his head for acting dumb, he leaves his seat at the grumble of his stomach, searching for food.

There's a person - no, two people - coming to mind the moment he feels like he needs someone to rely on.

"Yo," the familiar voice fills his ears and he turns to find a rather worryingly pale boy sitting next to a significantly tanner boy. They might be identical twins, but rare times it is for people to be unable to tell one from the other.

Jozetsu's eyes wrinkle into a smile when he notices the red mark on Obito's cheek. He raises a hand, letting go of his sandwich, and pokes at his own cheek. "Fell asleep in class again?"

Obito raises his own hand to rub at the spot, the numbness having gone away but still evident enough to make Obito wince at the feeling. He sits down in front of the twins, feeling their gaze follow his movements. He scratches at the dried spit spot at the corner of his mouth when he feels it. "Yeah," he mumbles. "And I forgot to bring lunch."

"Tch," Dokuzetsu clicks his tongue and reaches into his lunch bag, grabbing a spare sandwich from it. "I was saving it for after-school, so you owe me for this one."

"Thanks, bud," Obito grins, taking the sandwich from Dokuzetsu's hand. "You always have my back against terrible canteen food."

As they eat, Obito sits in silence while the twins chatter among themselves. He doesn't really pay attention, but there are a few words that catch within his mind, which trigger a set of images in his mind. They flash behind his eyes and he blinks in confusion, looking up at his two friends.

"Are ya going to the café later? I heard they have a new menu," Jozetsu is saying through a mouthful of bread, not bothering to even push back in a stray piece of lettuce that slips out from his lips.

"No," Dokuzetsu grunts out, putting down his sandwich to talk. "I promised Principal Ōtsutsuki that I'd stay after school to help work on the art exhibition today."

"Art exhibition?" Obito pipes up.

"Yah," Jozetsu says cheerily.

"Have you been sleeping with your eyes open and your ears closed?" Dokuzetsu hisses. "We've been talking about this for weeks, now."

Obito frowns, the memory coming back to him in bits and pieces. "Ah, you're right," he says when his brain connects pieces of memories that seem to have been forged just at that moment. "Sorry. I've been... There's been a lot of things on my mind recently."

"I thought we've already established that it's not healthy for you to think, Tobi," Dokuzetsu scoffs.

"That's your brother," Obito grins, brushing off the insult. They fall back into a momentary silence as they try to eat, and Obito replays the earlier conversation in his mind.

An art exhibition? He feels as though he knows someone who's passionate about art... Rather passionate, actually, if he'd say so himself.

But there's something wrong with his knowledge. He searches his mind as to exactly why he thinks he knows someone from a completely different department than he is studying in, and the logical conclusion is that he shouldn't know anyone.

For some reason, Obito finds himself backtracking on his own life, a life he's supposedly have lived and shouldn't need confirmation on.

He isn't from here, no. He moved to Tokyo because his grandparents decided it, or something. He thinks he was too young to understand how things work and the exact reason behind the move. He originally didn't like the move because it caused him to be separated from his best friends, but for some reason, he changed his mind about it.

Why? Obito's eyebrows furrows as he tries to recall, then almost flinches physically when he remembers. His best friend at the time, Hatake Kakashi, had been accused of causing Rin to commit suicide. He thinks he has a close relationship with Rin, but he for reason doesn't really know for sure.

Maybe he had a crush on her. He strangely doesn't remember, especially after that strange dream that is continuing to fade from his mind.

Obito swallows his bite of sandwich and looks up at Dokuzetsu, scrunching up his expression as if what he's about to say is paining him already. "The art exhibition... Can I help with it?"

Dokuzetsu almost chokes on his own food, his mouth hanging open as he watches his friend from across the table. "You?" Dokuzetsu frowns. "But you're a business student."

"So?" Obito waves his hand dismissively. "You're not an art student."

Dokuzetsu frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, but he nods stiffly once. "Fine, we could use the extra help anyway."

"Then why did you wave me away?" Obito laughs.

"Forget it," Dokuzetsu stands up, wolfing down the rest of his sandwich. "I'll be going first."

Obito watches him go, blinking dumbly. "What's up with him?" he asks Jozetsu when the grimmer twin is out of earshot. "Did I offend him, or something?"

"Nah," Jozetsu shakes his head, his dyed green hair bouncing. "Dunno what's going through his mind these days, but he ain't mad at you."

"Alright," Obito nods, watching the staircase where Dokuzetsu disappeared into.

"By the way, Tobi, why do you have a sudden interest in the art exhibition?" Jozetsu asks, genuinely curious. "You don't seem the type to be able to appreciate art, and actually, I think I remember that you said you don't even like it."

"Er," Obito scratches the back of his neck, suddenly finding himself unable to respond to Jozetsu, his brain telling him it's something that doesn't happen often.

As he searches for an appropriate response, Jozetsu eats his sandwich slowly and watches Obito with curious eyes. There's something gleaming behind his amber eyes, something that stirs a foreboding feeling inside of Obito; something that Obito realizes he's familiar with, but at the same time, he couldn't place a finger on it.

Why does he think the sick, twisting of his gut a familiar feeling? He frowns, lowering his hand.

"I just feel like it, I think," Obito says slowly. "I'm always cooped up in the classroom and refusing to join any school activities, so maybe I'd try this year."

"It's your last year, though," Jozetsu comments.

"Yes, it is," Obito nods. "Which is why I want to try this year."

"Oki-doki, Tobi!" Jozetsu grins wide, his signature grin. His voice is sing-song, too, which at the same time annoys Obito but sends a wave of strange nostalgia through his body.

He smiles at him because Obito thinks it's a good idea, but he makes sure the smile doesn't reach his eyes. Jozetsu physically looks like it pains him to smile the same smile back like he doesn't understand why he's doing it.

Obito has always been closer to the cheerier one of the two.

"I'll get back to class, now," Obito says, finishing his sandwich with a particularly wide bite and stands. "See you."

"Bye-bye!" Jozetsu's smile returns to his original one, the wide, shit-eating grin.

As he walks down the hall, he realizes he's not even paying attention to the area around him. Obito's just walking by using the subconsciousness he doesn't even realize he has. He's already standing at the front door by the time he notices. Obito glances at the classroom tag, taking note of it in case he breaks his autopilot again.

He knows he will not be able to find his way back if he's conscious.

Heading back to his own table, he gets stopped in his tracks on the way.

"Obito," his cousin - Itachi, his name is Itachi - raises a hand and shoves a book into his arms. "Sorry I took your textbook without asking, but I wrote down what they're testing on in there if you're interested."

Confusion clouds his expression until another memory sparks within him, causing him to become expressionless again. "Right," he says, flipping open the textbook and taking a look inside. It feels foreign in his hands, the contents inside fresh and new. But his own notes and the softness of the plastic-like textbook paper says otherwise. When he reads the words, he grimaces lightly at the knowledge that suddenly floods inside his brain.

He's not a straight A student, but he's also good enough to have a genius like Itachi to ask him for help.

"Thanks," Obito says, waving the textbook after closing it. He wants to sidestep Itachi and head back to his desk, the knowledge of having a test next period popping into his mind, but Itachi stops him again.

"Wait," he says, crossing his arms and positioning himself in front of Obito again. He leans his head down, stepping closer to Obito as if he has something he wants to say, but doesn't think he could. "They've been saying... They've been saying Orochimaru's back."

Obito frowns. "That doesn't concern me."

Itachi sighs, fidgeting. "Rumor has it Sasuke's been... dealing with him."

He frowns, a dark cloud coming over him. "I don't care," he says. "He's not my little brother. You deal with him."

Itachi's lips press into a thin line, but he doesn't otherwise show any displeasure at Obito's obvious indifference. "You're right," he says. "I just want him to be able to support himself. I didn't mean to push him this way."

"Then why not talk to him, hmm? You're just making matters worse by pretending you're his enemy," Obito says, already stepping away from Itachi and towards his desk. Itachi moves to follow him, standing next to Obito even when the other boy is disinterested and already sitting down to study.

"And what would you have me say? I need him to have a target to chase, that's the only way I can ensure he'll be able to take care of himself," Itachi mutters. "Things haven't been easy with mother out of town and father constantly only thinking he's in my shadow."

Obito sighs heavily, reaching for his notebook inside his book bag. He pulls it out and slaps it on the table, the noise causing Itachi to flinch. There's a reason why Itachi is afraid of him, even if Itachi is one of the most treasured pets of all teachers in the school.

"You know I can't help," Obito says.

"I know," Itachi whispers. "I just wanted at least someone to know."

"Why not Kisame?"

"I don't trust him with these things, even if he's a good friend," Itachi replies.

"You misplace your trust," Obito grins with a hint of malice.

"I know more than you think," Itachi smiles back, expression too blank for even Obito's all-seeing gaze to decipher.

He stands there for a moment, his hands in his pockets and watching Obito with something shimmering underneath the same onyx eyes the entire family has. It unnerves Obito, but at the same time, he couldn't react to it.

"Are you... dreaming, right now?" Itachi asks suddenly.

"What?" Obito blinks.

"Hm? Oh, nothing," Itachi says, as if he has forgotten he asked something in the first place, even though it isn't even half a second ago. "See ya."

Itachi takes his leave then, waving a little goodbye to his cousin. Obito doesn't see him out, still weirded out by the entire situation. He opens his notebook and scans through the pages, his own handwriting reminding him that he has been studying business and economy for coming three years now.

But as he flips through the pages, he notices there are doodles and words that seem out of place. Diagrams that are not charts, designs that have nothing to do with the graphs to calculate income and profit.

The words make little sense on their own, but Obito notices that if he compiles them together, they form the exact scene of his earlier dream. Wilderness mixed with technology, humans with powers.

Has he dreamed this dream before? It'd make sense for him to have, since while in the dreamscape, Obito felt at home and at ease, like he has lived like that for more than thirty years.

It felt like a story, too. Obito thinks he remembers the exact moment before he wakes up, as well. He takes his pen and opens a new page in his notebook, scribbling with his best artistic ability to draw what he remembers.

A bright, white scene, in the shape of a star with the moon at the tip.

He draws something else, too. A crude image of a person with long hair covering their left eye.

He doesn't even know if it's a female and male.

He doesn't have any colored pens, so he settles for only scribbling the eyes blue. He stares into them, his art a thousand miles away from the image he has in his mind.

Those eyes bore into him, and he closes his notes, opting to just study from his textbook. But try as he might, after permanently securing his foothold on the bridge between reality and fantasy, those eyes keep coming back to haunt him.

He doesn't think he does well in his test, but then again, he knows he's not a straight A student. Once the bell rings and school is over for the day, Obito grabs his books and the rest of whatever he thinks he needs and darts out of the classroom.

He thinks he hears someone calling after him as if to ask him a question, but he ignores it and heads down the stairs. The canteen is already bustling with people who want to get a snack before leaving school, or those waiting to have their extra curriculum activities started. More students pour down as the seconds go on and Obito has to push his way through the crowd to break into the schoolyard.

There are those who hang around the schoolyard, tossing a basketball toward one another. They're not officially playing a game, but still, they shout at Obito for running across their field, saying how the ball's going to hit his head if he forgets to bring his eyes out to public again.

Cutting through the schoolyard is the fastest way to head to the art department, anyway. And Obito, for some reason, trusts he has quick enough resources to be able to dodge any incoming balls thrown his way.

He makes it through the schoolyard no problem and is shocked to find Dokuzetsu already standing at the entrance of the art building.

"You look like you're running away from a murderer," Dokuzetsu comments, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really that eager to help out?"

"Hell yeah," Obito says, shifting his weight and making his schoolbag bounce in his hands.

"Right..." One half of the twins says slowly, watching him with his cold amber eyes. "Well, you'll be helping the artists. You're going to ask them if they need any extra equipment with displaying their artwork, or if they need help taking pictures for their handbook. They're also supposed to hand in their arts' descriptions."

"Oh, okay," Obito says. "Can I take a look around the art exhibition, first?"

Dokuzetsu stops what he's doing, which is taking out a piece of paper from his own pile. The paper is stuck in the middle of the stack and then yanked out in a harsh move. "Fine. Don't ruin anything in there. Some artworks are already on display but there aren't any restrictions around them yet."

"I'll be careful," Obito nods, taking the piece of paper when Dokuzetsu hands it to him. "You know I will."

"I don't know that," he hisses, then promptly leaves the area, leaving Obito alone.

The Uchiha just hopes he won't run into Principle Ōtsutuki while wandering around here. He doesn't really want to face the monster of a principal today - or any day.

Obito adjusts the strap of his bag and walks into the art exhibition, the piece of paper getting crumbled in his hand with the force of his grip. He looks around slowly, scanning his gaze over everything.

He pauses at a large display of three humanoid wooden sculptures, held up by strings above. The middle wooden sculpture looks as though it is the child of the two other sculptures. The three are positioned in a hug, their limbs still and cold, though the child looks content. Watching closely, Obito feels as though they might come to life at any second, moving to either tighten the embrace or let it go.

Eerie, but deep. Obito tries to look for a description but remembers that it's not complete yet, and he's supposed to actually collect the descriptions from the art students. He'll keep in mind to read this when he has the writing in hand.

Moving away, Obito heads over to the middle, noticing something white. He is immediately drawn to it and he scans the large collection made out of pure white clay.

They're mostly birds of prey, wings outstretched, frozen in action. They look familiar but there is no way he'd seen these anywhere. He doesn't stalk art blogs or art sites. He doesn't go out of his way to visit art museums, or even walk into one of the school's own displays.

Quite frankly, this is his first actual art experience.

He wants to reach out to stroke the soft white clay, but he remembers Dokuzetsu's warning and steels his arm by his side. As he continues to observe the still work, he overhears a couple of students next to him talk.

"That Deidara guy isn't really going to destroy all of this by the time the show begins, right?" a girl asks, leaning closer to a sculpture of a red kite wrapping its wings around a smaller yellow bird, looking like its nurturing it, protecting it. "These looks way too pretty to be destroyed. How can he have the heart to?"

"It's his art philosophy," her short-haired friend replies. "'Nothing lasts forever because life is fleeting.' Something like that. You remember? He likes explosion, too, and he had a huge fight with the school when they forbid him from using explosive clay on school grounds."

The girl lets out a long sigh. "But these birds look like they're in love! I don't want to see them burn."

"Er, love is fleeting?" her friend shrugs. "You won't do good complimenting his work. We all know he'll never be interested in you."

"Such a shame," the girl says, shaking her head. "He looks cute."

"Don't let him hear you saying that," her friend laughs. "He'd probably come running over and start yelling at you."

"Hotheadedness is cute!"

Their voices start to fade as they begin to move onto another exhibition, chattering along the way. Obito stares after them with a confused expression, walking over to the piece they were staring at with unsure footsteps.

Deidara... That name seems so unnervingly familiar to him, but he couldn't for his life remember having heard or known such a name.

How weird, he thinks, as he leans down to admire the details of the sculpture more closely. It indeed is a sculpture of two birds, one seemingly protecting the other. He tries again in vain to look for an artist's description to explain the meaning of the artwork, but like the earlier wooden sculptures, he remembers he's supposed to be collecting them.

Letting out a puff of air through his lips, Obito turns and begins to actually start his work. He hasn't loitered around too long, but he worries Dokuzetsu wouldn't agree to allow him to help anymore if he doesn't actually show effectiveness. He also doesn't want that grim man to talk bad about him to Principal Ōtsutuki, his name is black enough already.

He was quite the idiot while in the first few years of school. The whole incident with Kakashi and Rin sort of... fixed him physically and mentally, he supposes now that he recalls. It was the beginning of his footing with other of his friends here at school, anyway. Before he made friends with the head prefects Pein and Konan, Obito knew they were jotting down every single rule break he ever committed, even if it's as trivial as sitting down and his pant leg hiking up to reveal skin.

But of course, they're best of buds now.

Obito manages to find the way out of the exhibition with another exit, keeping in mind of what the girls said about Deidara. The name is just so familiar to him as if it fits perfectly on his tongue. He could feel its weight even if he's just thinking about it like it could spill past his lips at any moment and he'd be perfectly fine with it.

But he doesn't know a Deidara. Nor has he ever heard of a Deidara in school. He, in fact, doesn't remember the whole fighting incident with the said artist and the school. Has he been dreaming the whole time?

What kind of life is he living, if he couldn't even remember half the things he'd done and experienced? Has he really been living his life with a clouded mind and with his eyes closed? That's not possible. Everything that he makes himself remember... He knows they're real. They feel too real. Whatever he experienced has shaped him into the man he is today, there's no doubt about it.

Despite that... so did the dream. The dream felt real, too.

Clicking his tongue, Obito takes a sharp turn left as he follows the classroom tags, eventually finding the sculpting room of the art department. There sure are a lot of rooms for the art department... This school focuses more on its artistic talents than anything else. It's one of the more popular art schools in Tokyo, Obito remembers, most of its art students entered higher education and jobs later on in life.

Obito stops in front of the door, noticing it's already open. He grips the paper tighter, his hands having slipped into his pockets while he was walking over here. He peeks into the room, seeing a person leave through the back door and another person entering a room that Obito has no idea what is used for.

"You better stop talking like that, brat, or you'll find yourself unconscious within a pile of wooden puppets," the only person that hasn't moved is saying in the middle of the room, sitting in front of a wooden sculpture. The redhead is sanding the wood, blowing away the dust as he watches the surface closely.

He faces away from Obito, so he couldn't see his face, but his voice sounds irritated.

"Sure, whatever you say, my man," another voice comes from the room Obito saw someone walk into, so he assumes it's the same person. "I know you love me way too much to actually hurt me, hm."

"Don't be so full of yourself," the redhead scoffs, tossing the used sandpaper in his hand away and moves to grab a new sheet. "I'm not interested in your kind."

"I'm hurt, yeah," the same person replies, walking out of the room, carrying a large box of clay.

"I didn't know you had a heart to get hurt by," the redhead says matter-of-factly, despite it clearly being a joke. Wow, Obito thinks as he watches the back of the redhead with unimpressed eyes. Must be exciting to be that guy's friend.

He turns his gaze toward the person who exited the room, his breath stopping when he notices the long blonde hair. His heart surges up in his throat and the mental image of the blonde with blue eyes slips back into his mind, and for a moment Obito isn't standing in front of the sculpture room, he's in some wilderness.

The path he's walking on is worn with use and so he follows it. He hears footsteps behind him and he turns to see who it is.

It's the same blonde. The person looks unimpressed and flicks some hair away from their face, tucking some strands behind their ear. Obito continues to stare, forgetting to walk already.

The person notices before they even got close, and Obito yearns to be just a little closer to see their expression just a little better.

He sees their mouth open to talk, but Obito couldn't hear anything because he's standing back in front of the room.

Swallowing audibly, Obito enters the room without really announcing his presence. The two art students don't seem to notice him, still chattering among themselves.

"I can't believe you, hm," the blonde says, his voice so deep yet his hair so long. What is even happening?

"Um," Obito speaks up finally, already standing so close to the two artists that they jump at the sound of his voice. "Excuse me..."

"What the fuck?" the blonde shouts, dropping a handful of clay back into the box he'd carried out earlier. "Who the shit are you, yeah?"

"Um," Obito blinks at the blonde, taking in the dirtied hands and the equally dirty apron, and the awkward grunting speech pattern. "I'm Uchiha Obito."

"What are you doing here?" the redhead asks in the same monotone voice. He's still sanding his work.

"I'm here to help... I'm supposed to collect your artists' descriptions and write down any requests you might need for your artworks' display..." Obito says, unsure, as he glances back and forth between the two young artists.

"Right..." the blonde watches him with narrowed eyes, and it's then that Obito realizes he has those same blue eyes. Those stunning blue eyes. The blue eyes that hold such mystery and intense emotions. Obito tries to smile at the artist but feels as though the gaze is judging him.

He recalls his crude drawing, and he winces at the thought. Maybe not think of it when he's surrounded by artistically talented people, where their 'doodles' are better than anything he spends five hours on.

But the face he saw in his dream, and just now in that weird vision... There's no doubt about it. But...

"You're a guy?" Obito blurts out.

"What are you - of course I'm a guy, hm!" the blonde flushes, waving his arm. He clicks his tongue, casting a blazing glance at his fellow art student before directing that same furious gaze onto Obito. "You better fucking remember that, yeah."

The heat in his eyes is so comforting even though he's sure this fiery blonde can kill him if he tried. He's seen this before. He's always the receiving side of his anger... he's always the one enticing the anger.

"Who are you?" Obito asks.

"Jeez, are you for real?" the artist shakes his head, crossing his arms now. "Basuto Deidara, I'm pretty famous, yeah."

"Infamous," the redhead speaks up, throwing away another piece of sandpaper. He stands, but he doesn't reach even Obito's shoulders. The redhead holds out his hand, small and soft for someone who's working rough work with wood. "Suzuki Sasori, or you can call me Sasori of the Red Sand. Everyone does."

Obito takes his hand, shaking it. He still looks dazed as Deidara's name bounces around his head. Deidara. The name... It stirs something within him that Obito doesn't understand.

"No one does, hm," Deidara whispers, an unamused tone in his voice. "He just calls himself that."

"Shut your mouth, or else your life is really going to be 'fleeting' like your art," Sasori snaps, turning from the scene and heading toward a desk.

"Blah blah blah, yeah," Deidara sneers after him, waving a fist.

Obito just stands there, like the dumb person he is. Deidara watches him for a moment before walking off, also heading toward a desk. He ferts for a second, wondering why the two artists had just left him without saying another thing until he realizes they're both rifling through their bags and grabbing what he presumes is their statements for their artworks.

Sasori heads back first since Deidara is struggling more with trying not to make his bag dirty. "My statements," he clarifies Obito's original assumption. "All four should be in there."

"Thanks," Obito nods, grabbing the stack of paper and carries it with the piece of paper Dokuzetsu gave him.

"I'll need extra lights for this one," Sasori continues, jabbing his thumb toward the sculpture he had been sanding when Obito entered the room. "And more fish wires for my first piece. It's older than the rest and I can tell it's not going to last for a day with just that amount of wires they have right now."

"Okay," Obito says, fishing into his messenger bag and grabbing a pen. He scribbles down Sasori's request on the same piece of paper. "Lights and fish wires, got it."

Sasori nods to confirm then heads to sit back down, continuing his sanding work.

Obito turns to watch Deidara, using the time to study him. His dream seems very realistic now that he can see the actual person.

There's no way he could dream up Deidara, though. This person is way too unique and out of his mind to be his creation, that's for sure. But then how did he get into his dream?

Obito frowns. Maybe he has just heard of Deidara because of that fighting incident, that could be it. He stops thinking when Deidara heads toward him, handing him a thin stack of papers just like Sasori has. He doesn't bother with explaining what it is, though, even though Obito has already picked up on what it is.

He accepts it and puts it underneath Sasori's.

"I'll need a projector, hm," Deidara says, handing him another item. "Play this."

Obito takes the CD case. It's transparent, and the CD inside is the classic silver with nothing printed on it. He shoves it in his bag.

His job is essentially finished, and it's obvious the two artists aren't expecting him to stay any longer and won't keep him company. He opens his mouth and closes it again like a useless fish, just staring at Deidara who's already returned to his work, kneading clay.

Obito presses his lips into a thin line, taking leave even though there's a feeling inside of him that makes him want to tell Deidara about his dream, or dreams. There's also a more logical side of him that tells him the blonde will think him crazy if he actually does.

So he leaves the room. The rest of the art students are easy to find, but he honestly doesn't really care about them at the moment, despite it being his work. He leans against a wall after he's a couple of rooms away from the sculpting room, filtering through the stacks of paper he received.

'Mama and Papa,' reads the first one from Sasori. He assumes this is what the sculpture he saw is called. He scans the description.

'To my parents. They're still alive within me, even though I am dead.'

How... emotional. Obito frowns, looking through the rest of the description. It's just explaining his work progress and material usage. Not interesting for someone who doesn't really care about art.

He shoves Sasori's stack into his back, neatly, mind you, and sifts through Deidara's, feeling a little guilty for doing this.

He seems like a nice enough guy, right? Just nice enough to the point where Obito already feels an affinity toward him, it doesn't matter if they just met.

'Red Kite.'

Obito swallows hard. That's the name of the art piece he saw the two girls looking at, right? It has to be. Strange. Its name is exactly the same meaning of his nickname Tobi...

'It wasn't meant to be.'

Obito stops himself from reading more, the first sentence already making him wince. He shoves the rest of the papers into his back, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.

Behind his eyelids and within the darkness, he could see a water droplet fall and scatter his supposedly blind gaze. His eyes see more, noticing movements and glowing auras like he has never seen before, yet so familiar with. He turns yet again, feeling movement behind him.

It's Deidara.

He wants to open his mouth to speak, but he cannot utter a sound. In his mind, Deidara raises a hand and points toward something, so naturally, Obito turns to see what he is gesturing toward.

A small town bustling with people. He returns his gaze to Deidara, watching him pull out one of the clay sculptures he makes, but this isn't the usual kind of animal Obito knows. In fact, he doesn't even know if it's an animal at all.

Before anything else happens, though, Obito blacks out again, returning to his own world. It's silent, save for the echo of water.

A world... where humans have powers that seem so supernatural it must come out of a comic book... He chuckles despite himself, realizing he sounds exactly like those anime people love watching. It has never suited his taste, but he'd probably be a main character if he keeps up this act.

Obito feels he's back at school, leaning against the wall, but his eyes remain closed. Why does he dream of this world where humans are ninjas with superpowers? What is the purpose?

He opens his eyes and stares down at his hand, feeling a thin fabric like he's wearing a glove, but he is not. He clenches his hand into a fist, then releases it again.

It's just his skin, right?

A world of superpowered ninjas. He lets that sit in his mind a little while longer. There's just no way. When he turns, he doesn't see anything more, just the school hallway. The art building isn't very populated, that or the art students just rarely come out of their rooms. He understands. They have a huge workload, and with the show coming up very soon, they need to polish up their work.

Obito turns and gazes over his shoulder, staring at the door he came from. He remembers Deidara's back, wearing his apron on top of a striped shirt. His golden hair tied back in a casual manner but enough to keep out of his face. His features are softer than the ones he sees within his dreams, or visions, and he finds he likes the real Deidara way more.

Smiling to himself, he turns and heads down the hallway. There's still more artists' statements and requests to collect.