Prologue

This is an AU taking place in the U.S. and is Deidara-centric for a good portion of it. It has been a long while since I've watched Naruto (and even longer since I've actually decided to try to write a chaptered story). I will give warning, I am not the best writer out there (I'm more of an artist in all honesty ;)) and there is a … 80% chance I won't finish this (even though I have at least 70% of the plot written down.) since I'm going to be MIA after August and I can not write that fast XD

But since I do like writing, and I haven't really written a fan fiction yet for my favorite ship- here's my try! Characters may be OOC (most likely they are actually haha) but I hope you enjoy my little story.

He was born at a poor house, four older siblings and he came out screaming like a maniac- like he knew what the future would hold for him. His tiny little hands held onto his mother finger with terrifying strength and 9 times out of ten? He refused to release her hand. He cried whenever his mother was away from him. His father though? That little boy hated his father with a burning passion, refused to stay still when the man touched him and cried with a vengeance when he was stuck alone with the man.

It started early on, the strange occurrences around the babe. Lights would flicker or blow out, things would mysteriously vanish, his father catching horrible colds or odd allergies for a temporarily amount of time. The man thought for sure the babe was cursed, going as far as bringing a priest to the room so that she can exorcise the demon from the child. At the tender age of two the babe found himself sitting at the steps of an orphanage. No note, just a babe crying in the drizzling rain.

He was nameless for the first five years of his life after that, often referred to as Curse or Daemon. His first name was Felix, sharp and proud like the boy wasn't. The name gave him confidence, made him think of a phoenix. He started having an odd fascination with fire after discovering the mythical flaming birds.

When he was ten the orphanage caught fire, the boy being blamed but no proof actually existing. After that the boy only wore long sleeved shirts and made sure to cut a hole in the lower part of his sleeve so he can fit his thumb through the hole. He never showed his palm to anyone after that.

His second name was Regis. It came with a new orphanage where he quickly became the leader, beating any child who dared to call him Cursed, or Pyromaniac, or Daemon or whatever other forsaken name others came up with. He took to his longer frame, stronger body like a duck to water, showing off any scars he received from his quarrels with the older boy like the battle wounds they were. He no longer needed the name Felix to make him feel stronger, he was at the peak of his strength- a proud flame… a King.

At twelve he started growing his blonde hair out, tucking it in a bun when it started growing too long. Most of the orphanage boys gave him a wide berth, a few still tried their luck and even less interacted with him as friends normally would- though he would never call any of them friends. Thirteen is when things actually started happening, he took off his long sleeved shirts, his fingerless gloves and would stretch his hands out for the world to see.

Sometimes, there would be nothing, other times people might see the hint of this glow, of some foreign type of energy just dancing in his palms but when they take a second look its gone. He'd smirk at those people, flaunting his hands in such a mocking manner before he abandoned them to pay attention to something else.

Once a man walked up on him, when he was sitting in an alley palms facing a small garbage can, a pulse of energy racing between the two objects. The man yelled, asked what the fuck he was doing and Regis freaked, spinning around just as the sparks left his palm. It took ten minutes of this horrid screeching before the blackened corpse collapsed on the ground. The boy just stood there frozen, hands shaking and- and-

His third name was Shinigami, he ran away from the orphanage and never returned. First few years of street life were harsh on him. He was once again the bottom of the food chain, scrambling to get ahead in any possible way he could. After the first year he took to mugging, holding a knife close to his chest with his blue glaring as he whispered threatening words and demanded all valuables. He probably stabbed at least fourteen people- five of them he knows for sure are dead.

At sixteen he left the streets, found a shabby little apartment building, lied about his age and promised to pay extra if the manager would let him stay. But, whilst he was off the streets he kept the same way of life. Hiding in the alleyways and threatening passerbys. He tried his hand at robbing stores twice, first time being successful without using the spark that lies in his hands. The second time ended up with the building going up in flames, half of Shinigami's face a land of horrid scar tissue and his right eye uselessly blank.

It took weeks for him to brave the outdoors again, and even then he hid in the shadows with his hands shaking. Whenever he braved the sun a hand often would reach up and cup the right side of his face, hiding away the scar tissue- his eye. And eventually- eventually he came up with a solution, hair always falling on the right side of his face and hiding the tragedy that was it.

So he didn't do robberies. Not anymore. At seventeen he changed his name again- Deidara this time. He also started looking into medicine, the healing arts. There was pain, a lot of pain. Agonizing, torturous pain as he attempted to mend his own skin- mend the wounds across his face. It took a lot of attempts, mistakes, agonizing pains as things went wrong and wrong again.

At nineteen he was Iwa, he left the city he grew up in and started playing in a new business. He had killed over 20 people in his muggings and the second robbery attempt and- he felt like he was heartless enough. Heartless enough to take up a gun, steal a life and make a small fortune all by the name of Deidara.

He still lived in a run down apartment, still hid in the shadows, still would flicker that life in his palms and just smile. Everything was the same, yet was not the same.

Especially when the war broke out on the West and the East hid away from that chaos but yet was so close to falling into that war as well.

Especially when the things that went bump in the night roared and demanded all and any attention.