The boy looked up into the sky, allowing the wind to whip his long, yellow hair to and fro. He sighed, noting the clouds that were beginning to gather. A rumble of thunder and a clap of lightning in the distance told him all he needed to know. He had always like thunder storms. There was something ethereal about them, the way that electricity flashed from the sky and burned all in its path. The way that thunder was able to send myriad creatures running for their lives. He smiled, looking into the distance. However, the lightning storms always brought rain, and that was something he had never truly liked. Rain always reminded him of tears...something that he had seen too much of in the past.

"It's going to rain, un," he said to himself, grumbling at the moisture that was already starting to fall.

"Deidara, come in! It's time for dinner!" His mother, a brown haired woman that looked twenty years older than she actually was, began to call. He turned, waving at her before turning around again. He sighed, looking down and opening his palms. His hands lay before him, openings in each, complete with teeth and a pink tongue that lolled out. They panted up at him from his dirty appendages, and he smiled, sighing slightly.

"Well, it's time for me to eat…and you to, un," he said. His hands began to drool in answer, and he smiled. If they weren't so useful for his artwork, they would have been a pain in the ass. However, for some reason, the mouths allowed him to manipulate brushes, chalk, and charcoal. He was able to make beautiful pieces of art, far beyond anything a boy of his age would have been able to do. Art was always something that had piqued his interest. However, he had been in a slump the past few months. Nothing he had created seemed good enough anymore. Nothing that he had drawn or painted or colored ever seemed real enough to keep. He had ended up crumpling each piece, leaving it on the ground or throwing it into the furnace.

"Deidara...I said now!" He cringed, turning back to face his mother who stood at the open door. He sighed once more, walking slowly towards the house as another lightning bolt split open the sky. He smiled as a small squirrel shot into the tree in his front yard, chittering angrily up into the sky.

He marched to the door, opening it and walking into the small room. A fireplace on one side brightened the dark space, while his mother on the other side brightened that area. He smiled, staring as his mother began putting food on the table. He went to the sink, washing his hands thoroughly. No matter how hard he tried, his hands never really did seem clean. He sighed, wiping them quickly on his pants as he went to sit down.

"So, what is it tonight, un?" he said. His mother glanced up at him, and a smile played on her lips.

"Tonight...well, tonight is special. I slaved all day to cook you a scrumptious meal of sukiyaki, so I hope you're hungry. Also, I have cake for dessert. Now...dig in." He smiled. That meal would be scrumptious. He quickly sat down, staring down at his plate consisting of miso noodles and beans. He smiled again, looking up into his mother's eyes.

"Looks great, un!" He quickly spooned himself a large portion, shoving it into his mouth. He let it roll on his tongue before quickly swallowing. He smiled again. "Delicious," he said. His mother smiled, and quietly began to pick at her food. They didn't have much money, and this was all she could afford. No one would hire a woman who had no husband, or whose child was...an abomination of man. He took another big bite, swallowing before he had a chance to taste the meager fare. It was better if you didn't taste it, anyways.

"So, how was school today?" His mother, a mask of love, looked at him. He looked down at his plate, staring at it before answering.

"…It was…ok, un," he said, rubbing a large bruise on his arm. His normal school day consisted of beatings, bruisings, and derisive name calling…and that was before his first class. Throughout the day, he could expect more of the same. No one wanted to be friends with the "freak with the hands". A tear rolled down his face as he scooped another spoonful and put it in his mouth. He tried to swallow, but it stuck in his throat. He gulped several times before it finally went down. His mother smiled, coming over and hugging her son before standing and taking her plate to the sink. There was an awkward silence between the two as Deidara remained staring at his plate. Suddenly, he broke the quiet.

"Mother…why is it that I have these hands again?" Deidara glanced at his hands, which were panting at him. To the best of his knowledge, he had had them his whole life. However, he knew that normal children, with normal parents, didn't have mouths on their hands. He had no idea why he was alone in that category. His mother smiled once again, turning with the answer that she had given him so many times before.

"Deidara, everything happens for a reason. You were given those hands because…because…," she started to say. Deidara, still looking at his hands, didn't notice the teardrop falling from her face. She walked over to him, kneeling down and grasping his hands in hers. She wasn't bothered by the mouths...seemingly the only one in the world who felt this way. It was because of this bond that Deidara had always been truly close to his mother.

"You were given those hands because...I wanted you to be special," she said. He looked up, and slowly smiled.

"Don't worry mom! One day, I will be the greatest artist anywhere, and we will have a ton of money…and life will be good, un!" He jumped up, grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. He busily scraped the remainder of the food into a tub, which they used to feed the pig that was outside. His mother sadly watched him, and went to his side, taking the plate from him.

"I will finish this, Deidara. Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed, alright?" Her heart tinged as Deidara nodded, slowly.

"I will, un." Turning, he made his way upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time as he always did. His mother watched him ascend the staircase, turning back. Tears dropped unchecked into the sink, and she stifled her moans of anguish with one arm. Composing herself quickly, she again went to cleaning the dishes, taking care with each one. It was a way to get her mind off of her son, off of what he was.

In his room, he took his clothes off, slipping on some loose fitting pajamas and crawling under his blanket. He glanced out the window as he slowly fed his hands some dirt. Another lightning bolt flashed down, striking the field a little ways off. A small brush fire began, but was quickly snuffed out by the sheets of rain that had begun to fall. The Earth is weeping, he thought to himself. His hands lapped up the dirt, taking in huge mouthfuls at a time. He always fed them at night, usually whatever he could find. They hungrily ate everything that he offered, so it didn't really matter what it was. Whether or not they gained nutrition from what they devoured, or if he gained anything from it, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that it made him feel better to feed them.

"One day, you stupid things are going to make me rich, un! Then, I will get back at all of them! Everyone who ever hurt me or mom. They'll see. One day, I'll come back to this village. I'll come back after I'm rich and buy all their stuff! I'll make them all my servants, and they'll have to do everything I tell them, un! I will be the greatest artist that ever was!" He swore to himself, allowing his hands to finish their meal. They licked their lips, smiling up at him. He smiled back, slipping under his blanket. He closed his eyes, and he made one more oath before slipping into unconciousness.

"I will be a great artist. Art is…a blast!"

A/N: Now begins the remake process of this story. I will probably find time to rewrite each chapter little by little. This is the remade chapter 1! Hope you enjoyed it. I will make a small note as to which chapters are remade. They will be here! All it will say is A/N: Redone. That's it! Ok, enjoy the rest of the show!

By the way, Sukiyaki is a Japanese dish consisting of beef, which is a high grade product in Japan. Not everyone uses beef, which is why you see more people using fish or chicken. Less costly. Therefore, it is a double negative. Not only is Deidara having expensive food, he isn't having the expensive ingredients in the food. Just a note!