Hey! Sorry, I died and was brought back to life. I'm starting a new story. Please forgive me if some things are wrong, for they could be just for me. So... Sit back and enjoy! I know you may not recognize some of the names, because I've made them up since these characters did not exist that I know of. And if the name is from another manga/anime, it is because I thought it fit. I own nothing. Thanks!
A loud crash sounded among the hallways of the small hurt.
"What makes you think he is doing anything with his life like this?" Roared the tall man. "He should be in some kind of academy! Not messing with play-dough!"
"He is not messing with play-dough, Dear." Argued the slim feminine figure. Both adults had thin, sunflower-colored hair. The male was tall and muscular, while the female was short and frail.
"Than tell me what to call that excuse of schooling he is messing with!" Sel slammed one fist on the table. "Izumi, our son is wasting time and money on such an idiotic thing!"
Izumi looked her husband in the eyes. "Deidara is not wasting his time on this. We should support him." Her sky-blue eyes scanned her husband's pale green orbs for a flicker of doubt in his harsh words. But to no avail, they stayed firm on his belief.
Sel stood up. His open hand raised into the air and made contact with Izumi's cheek, sending her back a few steps. A red outline of Sel's hand clearly marked her face.
Deidara watched in horror as his father brought his hand up once more. "Father! No!" He yelled, running towards the taller figure. He felt the hand slam into his own jaw as he made contact with the floor. He cried out in pain and scrambled to his feet, his hands slipping on the wooden surface.
Deidara ran out the door of the hut, holding one side of his face as he scrabbled across the icy roads and through the snow to his master's house.
Crimson blood dripped onto once white snow as the young blonde knocked on a door. It slowly creaked open and an elderly man stood in it's frame.
"M-Master Ling," Deidara stammered.
Ling quickly pulled his student out of the cold and into his warm house. Ling was wealthy enough to afford a nice house, unlike Deidara, who could afford only a dumpy hut. The elderly man's hazel eyes locked on Deidara's wound.
Deidara never forgot the moment his master's hands locked around his shoulders and pulled him into the house for the rest of the ten years he would stay there. Deidara was only nine when he had left his home and his parents behind. Ever since the moment he had been hit, he murmured something behind every few sentences. His master did not like him saying the word 'um', so Deidara muttered 'un' or 'yeah'.
But this wasn't, nor would it be, the last of his troubles. After just two years of training and living with Ling, he became ill.
Deidara slowly tip-toed around the corner, holding a glass of slightly warm water and a small bottle of medicine that his master was supposed to take. Deidara lowered himself to his knees as he held out the two items for Ling. The white-haired elder only looked weakly at Deidara before smiling.
"Deidara." He addressed. "You have been an amazing student to me and an amazing friend. I hope you have learned from me the skills you need to further teach yourself." Ling's voice quavered and trembled as he spoke. "I am sorry." Ling's eyes slowly closed.
"No!" Deidara cried, throwing the glass cup aside. It made contact with the floor and shattered, glass and water spilling into a small puddle. Deidara quickly uncapped the bottle and spilled few tablets of the white pills into his palm before opening his master's mouth and dumping them inside. "Swallow... Please, un!" He exclaimed as tears began to streak down his face. "Please!"
Deidara fell back onto his knees; a thick, blond lock of his hair covering one eye. An eerie silence coated the entire house. Deidara's eyes gradually moved to a window near his master's bed. He watched raindrops streak down the smooth glass surface. It seemed as if the sky was weeping for the loss of a truly amazing artist, also.
After what seemed like hours of watching rain pelt the window, Deidara knew the task that lay ahead of him. He slowly stood and moved across the room to a small cabinet sitting in the corner. He pulled the top drawer open and grabbed a long, black paper stick with a small, wooden bulb at the end. Deidara grabbed the packet of matches that lay in the drawer, also, and went back to Ling's side.
After pulling loose a match from the packet and swiping it down the black strip on the back, Deidara brought the eager flame on the end of the match to the paper stick in his left hand. The bulb on the end caught fire almost immediately, and Deidara blew the match out.
"Master Ling, I respect your noble and humble actions and your many words of wisdom. I thank you for sheltering me in your home and taking care of me. I thank you most of all for the training you gave me in working with my chakra and clay. You shall always be remembered and respected for the rest of time. Now it is your time," A tear streaked down the blond's face as the words streamed off his tongue. "Now it is your time to rest and make your final journey as an artist to the sky." And with that, Deidara set the long stick across his master's chest.
His clothes caught fire and Deidara sunk to his knees, bowing with his eyes closed. Only the roar of flames could be heard as his master was cremated.
Nothing would ever prepare young Deidara for the time when the shrouded criminals entered his house and almost killed him in the act.