Artist’s Muse: A Deidara Sakura Story
Part One: Artist’s Obsession


A huge canvas occupies most of my room. Everything else is paints and brushes. I have no bed. Who needs sleep when you have art, hmm?
I sit on the floor staring at the canvas day and night. The canvas is empty, untouched. I have an image in my mind. My master, Sasori, laughs at my image. He explains to me that every artist gets this image in their minds. The maiden of the cherry blossoms, he calls her. No one has ever created her in art.
I hesitate to start her without a model. I feel that drawing her from my mind will ruin her. I must find a model like her. Sasori- Danna laughs even more at this. He says I should forget about this image.
But how can I forget, Hmm? How can I forget hair of a light pink swaying in the air, Hmm? How can I forget emerald eyes shining with sorrow, Hmm?
Oh, I know of her sorrow. In my mind, she speaks silently to me about it. How she longs go out from space been confined to. She has been confined to our hearts, minds, and souls. She longs to break free. She longs to be...Human.
For now I can only touch the canvas where she is supposed to be, tracing her lovely face. I can only dream of her in my arms, alive.
I now find her irritated at me. She scowls and frowns in my mind, urging me to deliver her from her bonds. Alas, I can't paint her. I am useless to her now. I like the thousands of artists before me will attempt but shall not prevail. Yet she haunts my mind and will not let me be.
I eat little now and look like a blonde crow. Deidara the blonde crow, hmm? I survive on coffee concoctions and sheer madness. I haven't looked into a mirror for 2 months but I am sure my eyes are red and my face a macabre.
Even Sasori-Danna is worried about me. This disproves my theory of him being an ignoramus.
My body itches to draw again. My nose longs to smell fresh paint again. They urge me to forget her. My spirit and heart remain reluctantly faithful.
She is now screaming and crying hysterically, begging me. I am convinced of my insanity for I see her everywhere. In time she will fade, cursing me and waiting for her next victim. She throws tantrums and screams. My heart is breaking to see her lovely face in this shape. But still, she is beautiful.
I now refuse to eat and survive on coffee and cigarettes. My long blonde hair now hangs limp across my lean frame. I look and feel like a damsel in distress. Sasori would make such remarks about my masculinity.
I haven’t gone outside in weeks either. I pace continuously in my room wish for an answer. Finally I drop to my knees in desperation. I wring my hands recklessly.
“Well this proves you have lost it.” a voice said behind me.
I turned around to see Sasori-Danna smirking at me.
“Well at least you haven’t lost your hearing too.” Sasori said while looking at me with amusement.
“How long have you been here, hmm?” I said looking at him with hate.
“I have been here since you have begun pacing like moron. But I must say, have you gone in to a religious cult like Hidan and started praying? Or has your sanity abandoned you in favor of Her?” he said, grinning. I avoided his question and in turned asked him another one.
“What the hell are you doing here, Sasori-Danna, Hmm?” I asked avoiding his hazel eyes.
“I am checking on you. I wanted to make sure you haven’t become vain and convinced you’re the meaning of art and thus, blown your self up. But it seems you have not bid my warning. I told you to block her from your mind.” he said.
“What the hell you do know, hmm? You don’t see her crying and screaming to be painted or be sculpted. She deserves praise and all she gets is isolation and ignorance! You see her clear as day but I still can’t draw her! She has experienced this from thousands of artists but her hopes are broken down! I feel helpless!” I say while pacing.
Sasori grabs my arm and I am forced to look in to his eyes.
“I once had her in my mind. But she left me. And she will leave you. You love her, but she only cares to be released. She is a temptress. Do you think she remembers all the artists she had deceived? Of course not! Now stop fooling your self and go outside!” he says, gripping my arm tighter.
I am forced to oblige. Sasori seems to be in a foul mood so I trudge to the bathroom. Before I go out of the bathroom I stare into the mirror and see my former self.
I try to smile and see a smirk coming out. Her screams are still there, but I try to ignore them.
I lock the door and depart for the Monet café. We live in a neighborhood or a slum. We are all bohemians, artists in despair and poverty. Society looks down at us as inhumane. I walk as all the people I know turn to look at me. They smile happily and whisper.
I walk to the café. The waitresses there are models. They are the muses for the artists. I smile to Ino who I had painted as Amateratsu, Shinto goddess of the sun. Her bright blue eyes twinkle as she gives me a wave.
I sit down and order a drink and some soup. My throat rejoices as I eat. I see a guy talking with Ino to be a model for nymph. Then I hear crash as a new waitress slips and falls.
Pink hair and emerald eyes stare at me. The screaming stops. And the maiden in my mind smiles, for the first time in I think for hundreds of years. And I smile too.