A/U; This is just a completely random one-shot I came up with that describes what I think it might have been like for Deidara in Iwa, before the Akatsuki came into the picture. Love it; hate it. Reviews are adored.
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He didn't mean to.
It wasn't supposed to happen.
It wasn't him.
It was the hands.
At first he ignored them, but they would not be ignored.
He tried to hide them, but they tended to stand out.
He tried to drown them, but they refused to die.
Life with them was unbearable.
The first time they ever acted, it was on their own. He had been molding clay, and they swallowed it. Moments later they spat out a perfectly shaped bird.
It exploded.
His mother had been in the room.
One down—three left.
The neighbors had heard the explosion and came running.
Blood was everywhere, and a twisted expression of shock and fear dominated his face.
Nobody blamed him.
He was ashamed.
At the funeral, he wore gloves.
He wished he had thought to wear a mask, to avoid the disappointed faces.
Seishi clung to his arm, despite his efforts to shake her off. She buried her face in his chest, refusing to look at the distorted body of their mother.
Karei and Katsu were wary; they didn't know whether to avoid or comfort him. In the end, they chose the former. Let he and Seishi be alone, they decided, and that was what they did.
The siblings stood together, parentless, and watched as their mother was lowered into the earth.
Seishi cried and turned away, as close to her elder brother as possible.
Deidara pretended that it was not his mother that was dead, but someone else's.
Even so, it was not enough to numb the pain.
Not to mention, the guilt.
It seemed as though they just could not be pleased with taking just one life.
They lusted for blood just as badly as he lusted for death.
But Seishi would not let him speak of such things.
She would hear none of it.
But he didn't care.
It had happened again, and this time it was his fault.
His squad was scheduled for training that day.
He made the mistake of showing up.
He couldn't have known.
He didn't mean to.
He didn't ask for this!
He placed his palms warily on the earth as he crouched, waiting for the opportune moment to attack.
It was an accident.
He didn't know.
It wasn't supposed to happen.
Karei was in combat with Katsu. They forgot about him.
He lunged, not paying any mind to what it was the hands were doing.
They spat something out.
Blood.
Screams.
He stared at the hands, numerous urges flooding through him.
He wanted to kill them, which meant he had to kill himself.
He wanted to scream and cry and run to hide where no one else could be hurt.
When the smoke cleared, he saw them.
Three down—one left.
His hands were covered in their blood.
He rushed to the hospital.
Nobody blamed him.
A week later he received an invitation, of sorts.
The group was called Akatsuki.
They wanted him.
Word sure as hell traveled quickly.
He met with a redheaded male, outside of the village, and they spoke.
Deidara didn't know what to do.
He had to leave—he had lost everyone but Seishi, and he refused to let them kill her as well.
A week later, Seishi went on her first mission that required her to leave the village.
He was there to see her off, and when they hugged, the hands bit her.
She bled, and still had the scar.
That was all that had to be done.
That was as far as he could let them go.
He would never let them hurt anyone he loved ever again.
He decided not to love anyone ever again, because the hands didn't want it.
He left for Akatsuki.
Two days after his disappearance, Seishi returned from her mission to find her house empty, and her brother ranked as a Nuke-nin.
She found a note on her bed, written in his messy script.
He went away to join some organization—he never said any name—and wasn't going to come back. He didn't want to hurt her like he had everyone else.
The entire village blamed him for everything.
His little sister never did.