A/N: Requested by and dedicated to Chanvre Vert, who wanted a fic about when Deidara and Kurotsuchi meet in chapter 513 ( not sure if this is what you wanted, but here you go.). I tried a different writing style for this one, and I'm not sure if I overdid it. Read, enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto
IMPORTANT: This fic alternates between present and flashbacks, so don't get confused.
It was him. And he was alive.
Perhaps she was dreaming again. Ever since he left-he haunted her subconscious nearly every night-she dreamed of that arrogant smirk, the blue eyes.
This dream certainly was different. For one, Akatsuchi wad in it, as was the Tsuchikage.
And why were his eyes so dark and soulless? Why was his body jerkily being pulled around by that man?
It wasn't a dream.
It was reality. Everything she had ever wished for, yet every nightmare she ever had.
Deidara. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to be here.
And just when she had started to numb her heart, he came and ripped it apart again.
She had to be completely sure, first, before she started to do anything.
She didn't trust herself to talk.
Long blonde hair? Soft and silky smooth, she knew. Check.
Slightly crazed blue eyes? How she had missed them. Check.
Suicidal qualities? He had always been a lunatic. Check.
But it still wasn't him.
"Deidara-nii?"
"I told you, I'm not even slightly related to you, Kurotsuchi. Get it right."
"Deidara-nii, we'll be best friends forever, right?"
"Best friends forever? What kind of crap have you been listening too?"
"Deidara-nii! Promise?"
Deidara glanced at the hopeful five year old. "Yes, Kurotsuchi. Best friends forever."
Not all promises were kept.
It was all Kurotsuchi could do from yelling out, and tell him how much she had missed him, and how she wanted, most of all, for him to come home. She didn't, of course. After all, it was he who had always drummed into her, shinobi are tough. They have to be cool.
She hated that rule.
His smirk. Always entrancing. And his smile-even more precious.
She knew it wasn't Deidara when he didn't even acknowledge her presence. He had always found time for her, no matter what, even when he was experimenting with his art. But now, his eyes swept over her like she was nothing, just another shinobi in his path.
And that was a knife to her heart.
They had been like siblings.
People always wondered why a relative of the Tsuchikage would bother being around a nobody like him. She didn't know why, really. She had met him when she was four, and he was six. And childhood bonds are hard to break.
Sometimes, she would tell visitors or newcomers to the village he was her brother. He hated it, which was all the more reason to do so.
And she loved him.
"Deidara-nii, why is that art?"
"Hm?"
"I said, why are your explosions art?"
Deidara looked at her in incredulously. "Have you been listening to the Tsuchikage? Is he trying to poison your mind too, un?"
"No! I'm just curious."
He got that slightly insane look in his eyes, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Art is an explosion. True beauty can only be fleeting, because that's the only kind that makes an impression, un. You don't take it for granted, and people want to see it. It's beautiful, un!"
Their conversation ended when he showed her a live demonstration, causing a few angry chuunin and an exasperated Tsuchikage.
The conversation was ingrained in her mind, though. And one fact was realized long after the conversation, after he had left.
Deidara was art, because he never said long. He was explosive a beautiful.
She wished he wasn't.
And when he shattered her heart, she picked up the pieces, only to have it incinerated.
Maybe her heart had been part of his art all along.
"What'cha looking at, Deidara-nii?"
"Hm."
"Dei-nii?"
"Don't you want to be in the clouds sometimes?"
"Huh?"
"Look how free the sky is. I bet nobody is ever judged there, un."
"I guess."
"Kurotsuchi?" His slanted eyes turn to face her.
"Yeah?"
"Never let them knock you down."
"Okay, Deidara."
He seemed like Deidara, though.
Even now, he was yelling at Gramps, telling him how he had no appreciation for art and that he was just an old bag of dust.
Just like she remembered him.
His birds were the same, too. Not-detailed and abstract. She would know, because she used to spend hours on end examining the clay bird he had left behind for her.
Was he Deidara, or not?
The month after he left was especially hard on her. Not only because there was a giant gaping hole in her heart, but it was accompanied by stares, directed at her.
And the whispers.
"Wow. Poor her."
"She deserves it. My mother had always said that Deidara would come to no good end. She must be pretty stupid."
"In my opinion, Deidara is worthless. He's so stupid. He was a freak, I'm glad he's gone."
The three kids left with black eyes, bruised legs, and an incurable fear of the Tsuchikage's granddaughter.
She guessed he was a zombie now. An imprint of the old Deidara, the real Deidara. Which was funny, seeing how passionate he was. Did zombies have feelings?
"What's wrong, now, Kurotsuchi?"
"Zombies."
"Zombies?"
"They live under my bed." She said in her matter of fact tone.
"What, un?"
"They do."
He sighed. "Well, goodnight then."
Her eyes widened." Please don't leave! They're gonna eat me!"
He inwardly rolls his eyes and bites back a sarcastic comment. She is only six. So instead, he says, "Don't worry. I'll protect you from the evil, people eating zombies, un. Happy?"
There's something ironic to this situation.
Who is this person, standing in front her eyes? She doesn't know who he is. She did, once, but now-
He is an older copy of the fourteen year old boy that had left so long ago, but what really matters is on the inside.
And she wonders if he even has a soul left, and if he can be Deidara like this, only half alive.
The night he left, she broke about all the rules of shinobi.
After he had destroyed part of the city, he started to fly away, with one lone figure chasing after him.
"Deidara-nii! Where are you going? Deidara!" she yelled.
"Kurotsuchi." A shinobi was gaining on her, trying to get her to stop. But she wouldn't.
"Deidara! Stop!"
She saw the mass of Iwa-nin chasing him, but it was hopeless. None of them could fly, like he could.
"Sayonara, you bunch of art-hating idiots!" he said as he zoomed to the sky.
"Deidara-nii..."Kurotsuchi cried. Her vision was blurry now, and her body heaving with sobs, but she kept running, until someone grabbed her by the shoulders. She didn't even try fighting anymore. They just watched as the twelve year olds head fell on the ground and her silent tears stained it like summer rain.
The question running through her head at that moment was not "Why did you leave?" but "Why didn't you take me with you?"
It's funny. For five years, she had been wishing to see him one last time.
Now, she just wanted this imposter to leave.
When she heard that he died, killed by some Leaf gennin, she showed absolutely no emotion at all. She had been in the Tsuchikage's office when the report came in. He had ushered her out after, claiming his back hurt too much. She had left without complaint.
On the inside, well...
She was twelve years again, unable to stop him from leaving. She wanted to cry, but shinobi do not cry. Sometimes, she hated being a shinobi.
She managed to get through the day without shedding a tear, but she broke down the minute she got home. At least he wasn't here now. He would scold her.
And after she woke up from a terrifying nightmare, she was struck with the most horrible thought.
She wanted him to be here, alive or not, right next to her, so she could snuggle into his solid body, feel his soft hair on her cheek, and pretend he was holding her after a nightmare.
One last time.
He wasn't Deidara at all. She finally figured that out. He was simply a puppet controlled by another being. The real one was long gone.
She knew this. She also knew that if the time came, she wouldn't be able to kill him.
Because no matter what, he was still her Deidara-nii.
