Author's note: I don't know why I wrote this, I just felt like it.
This contains almost no Deidara, sorry
this does however contain a sorta spoiler, I think.
What we have here is a (really) short story about a village that gets destroyed by Deidara before he joins Akatsuki as told by one of the villagers
I absolutely hate spelling errors so if you see one please let me know
also I'm not a writer so this is mediocre at best, don't say I didn't warn you
as for the rating: I really had no idea, so K+ it is. I have this condition where I lack a backbone so I'm hoping this will also get less attention this way xp
disclaimer: Naruto at Kishimoto Masashi
edit: 'realize' is no longer spelled incorrectly
A beautiful end
This used to be a nameless village in the mountains.
But then they came here, to hide and to plot. We had no say in the matter, he was our ruler after all. I didn't know this nameless village had a ruler. Why anyone would bother with it is beyond me. Yet there they were, telling us what to do, stealing what is ours and claiming that we owe them.
Some families had left, I feel nothing for those cowards. Perhaps they left for different reasons, but I doubt that. They knew that this would happen and they didn't warn us. So much for friendship.
I guess we could have seen it coming as well. We all saw those people dressed as villagers even though we were all sure we had never seen them before. The ruler and his men assumed they were actual villagers while the real villagers just figured they were here for that so called ruler.
In our nameless village you had 'us' and 'them', those who were born here and those who weren't. We figured everyone thought like that, we believed they would deal with that ruler and leave us alone. How foolish those thoughts seem now, that ruler didn't leave us alone so why would his enemies?
I was in the forest when they finally attacked. My instincts told me to run away from the sound and the repulsive smell but I didn't. I ran back through the forest, getting cuts and bruises in the process.
My world was burning. The flames were hungrily eating everything we had built over generations. The smell of burning flesh was clear then and the screams of the dying filled the air.
Yet all I saw was him. He had long blond hair and only one striking blue eye was visible but that is not what caught my attention. My eyes were drawn to the mouths on his hands and the clay pieces they were making.
He was talking while he threw his clay bombs, I still wonder to whom. It couldn't be the people dying in front of him, they heard only their own screams. It couldn't have been his comrades either because they were clearly not listening. I edged closer even though I should have ran away. I wanted to hear what he was saying, I have always found it a shame when words are lost.
Art, he was talking about art. He called the destruction of my village art. My gaze went past him to my burning village. I didn't see anything beautiful, all I saw is my destroyed village.
Fine, he called this beautiful because it ended. Then I will rebuild it. This ending will be a new beginning and soon no one will remember his 'art'. All they will see is an ugly nameless village. They won't realize it's different from the nameless village that was there before.
I hope your end will be like this village's. I hope you will go down with a bang only to survive or even better to come alive again. There was a ninja that could do that, right?
If that were to happen to you your entire existence would become ugly from your point of view. Your life and death would become meaningless.
I would find that beautiful.